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The day was hot and dry, while the merciless Texas heat beamed down on the desert ground. No cars passed by, no people were in sight, and there was no poor soul to prey on. Luda May, Uncle Monty, and Thomas were all in the house, waiting for Charlie to come back. He always goes out on patrols around town to try and find some roadkill on the road, victims to drag home, and people to slaughter like animals. The sun was shining high above the land, and the day almost seemed peaceful if not for the family lurking around.
A call through the radio sounded out in the family house, indicating that dinner was on its way. Charlie had found some poor scraps of some young folk on the blazing hot road of Texas and needed Thomas to get ready to haul their asses inside. Knowing how Charlie was, he probably roughed them up and didn't even try to seem like a genuine sheriff. Considering how long he's been doing this, keeping up the act was no fun. He liked showing up as the town sheriff only to rain hell on them and give them a sneak peek of the carnage they'd endure.
The sound of tires rolling on the dry, crusty land was a tall-tale alert that Charlie was back home. And he came home with guests. The guests in question looked like they'd seen better days. Bloody, beaten, and scared shitless. Charlie couldn't give a damn. Kicking open the door and making sure he had his shotgun, Charlie spat on the ground before slamming the car door behind him. Not even offering the guests any words, he walked inside the large house to retrieve Thomas. All with a sick smile of glee.
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