Fiends

1

Willy had left the window pane for last. Now it was done. He stepped backward, careful to keep his bare feet from landing on pine cones, and looked at it.

Great. Real class. Best damn shack in Wisconsin.

And he didn’t look to bad, himself, in the window’s reflection. A little bony, but what the hell?

‘What a fuckin’ stud,’ he muttered.

Then he whipped his putty knife at a dead, barkless poplar far across the clearing. It struck blade-first, glanced off, and disappeared into the thick undergrowth near the tree. Turning, he hurled the putty can high toward the lake. It plopped into the lily pads just beyond the shore.

He picked up a red bandanna and wiped the sweat off his face. A mosquito lit on his arm. He watched it for a moment, then rolled it under his fingertip until it disintegrated into a red smear.

‘That’ll teach you, y’little turd.’

He went into the one-room shack. It still smelled of mildew, but what could you expect from a place that’d been boarded up for three years? Besides, he’d be gone tomorrow.

The mattress in the corner was cluttered. He tossed his handcuffs onto a table in the middle of the room, set his flashlight and pocket knife on the floor, and sprawled backward.

A piece of paper crunched softly as his head pushed it against the mattress. He raised his head and picked up the paper.

It was brown with age. Creases from many foldings obliterated some of the lines.

Holding it above his face, he read the headline:

NORTH GLEN GIRL RAPED, KIDNAPPING FOILED

Foiled, all right. Thanks to that fucking neighbor.

Fix her wagon.

Taking care of that snoopy old bag would be kicks. He looked forward to it.

But not as much as he looked forward to Martha.

Marty.

She’d only been fifteen, way back then. Fifteen and cute and fresh and a virgin.

She had changed a lot since that morning ten years ago when he’d nailed her.

But not her address.

2

After the curtain slid shut and the lights came on in the movie theater, Dan let out a sigh of relief.

‘Unimpressed?’ Marty asked.

‘It was better than a hangover, but just barely.’

‘That good?’ Grinning, she pulled her hand away from him and stood up. It felt good to get out of the seat. Straining upward on tiptoes, she enjoyed the luxury of stretching her muscles. ‘Hope the second show is better.’

‘Couldn’t be worse. Hungry?’

‘For what?’

‘How does popcorn sound?’

‘Popcorn. Sounds great.' Turning around, she scanned the people in the rear part of the theater. She had spent most of her twenty-five years in North Glen, and knew most of the faces.

‘You want the butter flavoring?’ Dan asked.

‘But of course.’

‘What size Pepsi?’

‘Medium.’

‘For an extra twenty-five cents, you can get a large.’

She laughed and said, ‘Medium will be…’ Her voice stopped dead as the man near the back of the theater smiled at her and she suddenly recognized him. She sat down fast and scooted low in her seat until the back of her head was against the cushion. She propped her knees against the sticky metal of the seat in front of her. She folded her arms across her belly.

‘What’s wrong?’ Dan asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘You sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Okay. I’ll be right back.’

She grabbed Dan’s arm. ‘No. Wait. Don’t go.’

He frowned and looked worried. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Do you think we could just leave?’

‘You don’t want to see the second show?’

‘I’m not… I feel sort of icky.’

‘We can go.’

‘You won’t mind missing it?’ she asked.

‘Hell, we can always rent it from Blockbuster if we really want to see the thing. We can leave.’

Dan got to his feet and Marty followed him, sidestepping carefully, trying not to tread on feet, tumble over knees, or bump into heads along the row in front. At the aisle, she took Dan’s arm and looked down so she wouldn’t have to see that face again.

She kept her eyes fixed on her sandals and the carpet until Dan pushed open the door and they entered the lobby. The lobby lights seemed very bright. Fighting the impulse to look behind her, she hurried with Dan to the exit doors.

‘Wait,’ she said, and took off her yellow pullover sweater. ‘Won’t need this outside.’

Dan pushed open the door. The chilly air from the theater followed them outside until the door shut. Then the muggy night settled over them.

Marty took hold of Dan’s hand. They walked down the block and round the corner. Dan’s old Ford was squeezed into a stretch of the curb between two driveways. He opened the passenger door for Marty.

She climbed in. The air inside was stifling. While Dan walked to the other side; she rolled down the window.

‘I’ll have the air-conditioning going in a minute,’ he said as he dropped into the driver’s seat.

‘Yeah, right. Mother Nature’s air-conditioning.’

‘The best kind. Doesn’t deplete the stratosphere.’

Marty managed to smile.

When the car was moving, a warm breeze came in through the window. Marty let her arm hang outside and leaned against the door to feel the air’s calm touch. ‘It’s a beautiful night,’ she said. ‘I love it when it’s hot like this. Makes the night seem so… friendly. Sort of friendly and quiet.’

‘And romantic,’ Dan suggested.

‘Why don’t we go somewhere?’

‘Do you feel up to it?’

‘I think so,’ she said.

‘Where to. My place?’

‘Nah.This is too beautiful a night to be cooped up.’

‘Cooped up?’ He put an arm around her shoulders and reached down to her breast. ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’

Marty moaned at the gentle pressure of his hand.

‘I hate bras,’ he said.

‘They come off.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t wear them at all.’

‘My parents.’

‘I know. Your parents. Christ. You’re twenty-five.’

‘Am I?’

‘You oughta get a place of your own.’

‘So I hear.’

‘It isn’t normal.’

‘So you keep telling me. And like I keep telling you, I don’t see any reason to move out. I like it there. They like having me. And I don’t see any reason to find a place for myself until I’m ready to start a family of my own,’

‘Is that a proposal?’ Dan asked, not sounding especially amused. ‘This is my proposal - let’s go to the lake.’

‘Okay, okay.’

Outside town, the road had no lights but Dan drove fast as if he knew every twist and curve and bump, and he was taking them by instinct.

‘The air-conditioning works really good out here,’ Marty said. ‘Open your vent?’ Dan suggested.

Marty opened it. A warm breeze rushed suddenly up her legs and under her skirt. She kicked off her sandals. The floor mat was gritty under her bare feet.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Dan said.

‘Anything you want.’

‘What was bothering you at the show?’

The question hit her like a blow to the stomach. She wanted to double over and hold herself.

‘You weren’t sick, were you?’

‘Not really.’

‘You were scared. That’s why you wanted to get out so fast. Something scared the hell out of you. What was it?’

Marty turned her face away and gazed out of the open window. Her arms felt cold. She rubbed them, trying to get rid of the goosebumps.

‘Tell me.’

‘I saw this guy.’

‘Who?’

‘Someone I used to know.’

‘You saw him during intermission?’

‘He was sitting near the back.’

‘An old boyfriend?’

She shook her head.

‘Was he an old boyfriend?’ Dan repeated.

She looked at him. His eyes were on the road and the rearview mirror. He hadn’t seen her silent answer. ‘No’ she said. ‘Not a boyfriend. I don’t think I want to talk about it, okay?’

‘Fine,’ he muttered.

‘I’ll tell you sometime,’ she said quietly. ‘But not now, okay?’

‘Fine. I just wondered if it might be him in the car that’s following us.’

Marty groaned. She twisted round and looked out of the rear window. She could see nothing except the curving two-lane road, most of it hidden in shadows cast by the tall forest on both sides. ‘Where?’ she asked.

‘About fifty yards back. No headlights.’

She kept studying the road behind them. And finally she noticed a dark shape against the lighter darkness of the blacktop, moving along like a low, hunching shadow.

3

Near Gribsby, four hundred miles above North Glen, a young man paced the end of a creaking pier.

‘About time, huh?’ he heard.

He looked toward the shore and saw Tina. She stopped beneath a light, waved, and ran up the pier to meet him. ‘Whew!’ she said. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever get away. Relatives can be such a pain in the butt, you know that?’

‘I know that, Brad said. ‘The good Lord willing, we’ll never be relatives.’

‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘I know.’ He held out his arms. Tina stepped into them and he kissed the tip of her nose.

‘Lousy aim,’ she said.

He kissed her mouth. Her lips were warm and open, dry at first, then slippery. He moved his hands on her back, feeling her ribs through the soft thickness of the old sweatshirt that was far too big for her. The sleeves were cut off. He stroked her bare upper arms and slipped his hands into the sleeve holes and rubbed her shoulders. Tina hugged him more tightly.

‘I could stay like this forever,’ she said.

‘We wouldn’t get much fishing in.’

‘Creep.’

‘Ready to go?’

‘Nope.’

‘Yep.’ He kissed her forehead, then pushed her away. ‘Climb aboard.’ Squatting, he gripped the gunwale and held the boat steady while Tina boarded.

‘It’s a beautiful night,’ she said. ‘Get a load of that moon.’

He watched Tina instead. She stood on the deck with her bare feet apart, her hands on her hips, smiling as she looked from the full moon to the bright path it made on the lake.

‘Isn’t it something?’ she said.

‘You’re something.’ Brad climbed onto the deck. ‘You look like a pirate.’

‘Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.’

‘Except for your fanny.’ He patted it.

‘What’s about my fanny?’

He stepped back and inspected it, frowning thoughtfully like an artist examining the lines of a statue. ‘Nothing is wrong with it… exactly.’

‘Oh, thank you.’

‘But it’s not the fanny of a pirate. They’ve got big, broad butts. Yours is much to graceful and delicate.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I’ll just have to grin and bear it.’

‘Bare it?’

The way she smiled made Brad pull her close, holding her lightly, kissing her, finally pushing his hand down the back of her jeans and feeling the cool smooth skin of her buttocks.

Tina squeezed him tightly, and let go.

‘Shouldn’t we be shoving off?’ she asked.

‘Should we?’ he murmured against the warm curve of her neck. ‘The fishies are waiting.’

‘Very true. Thanks for reminding me.’

He let her go. Together, they untied the mooring lines. Then Brad turned on the ignition key and pressed the starter button. The twin inboard motors thundered into life. Tina came up beside him. He gave her a swat on the rump.

‘If you break it, you buy it.’

‘How much?’ he asked.

She held onto him as the boat lunged forward. ‘You probably can’t afford it,’ she said.

The bow lifted above the waves.

‘You’re forgetting, I’m a wealthy man.’

‘Right. Your dad owns a bait shop.’

‘There are different kinds of wealth,’ he said, grinning.

‘You’re wealthy in worms.’

‘How about ten bucks? Is that enough?’

‘Plenty.’ She smiled up at him. ‘You get a discount ’cause I love you so much.’

Brad put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Have I wished you happy birthday yet?’ he asked.

‘No. What’re you waiting for?’

‘Happy birthday. The big seventeen.’

‘Yeah. I’m ancient.’

Brad throttled down. The roar of the motors diminished to a sputtering whisper and the boat slowed, its bow slowly lowering into the waves. ‘Time for your party,’ he said, and killed the motors.

‘We’ll let her drift for a while.’ He lifted Tina onto the pilot’s seat. ‘Just sit tight on your priceless fanny.’

‘Ten bucks isn’t priceless.’

‘Right back,’ he said, and went below. In the galley, he opened his ice chest. Two glasses were tucked into the crushed ice along with two bottles of champagne. He left one bottle behind and hurried topside. Tina grinned. ‘Hey! Champagne?’

‘Happy birthday.’

‘Shouldn’t you have a towel to wrap round the bottle? They always have towels.’

‘A towel, a towel. Good idea. Hold these.’ He gave the bottle and glasses to Tina, then rushed below and found a beach towel. It was still damp and smelled of sun tan oil. He tucked it under his arm and picked up a flat, gift-wrapped box. As he reached the top of the steps, he heard a pop. A cork shot past his ear. It thumped the window. ‘Almost gotcha!’ Tina blurted.

‘Good thing you missed.’

‘Yeah?’

‘How far can you swim?’

‘Far. Very far.’ She scanned the shores. The nearest was at least a quarter mile away. ‘I could make it,’ she said.

‘This wouldn’t.’ He tossed the gift sideways. Tina gasped, but he snatched it out of the air with his other hand.

‘What if you’d missed?' Tina asked.

‘I never miss.’

‘But what if?’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’

‘I would’ve dived in after it. There’s no way I’d let this get away. No way in the world.’

‘It’s something pretty good, huh?’

‘It’s something wonderful.’

‘Gonna give it to me?’

‘Later. First, we’ve got to toast the birthday girl.’

4

‘Why would he want to follow you?’ Dan asked without looking away from the dark, twisting road.

‘I don’t know,’ Marty said.

‘You’d better tell me. I’ve got to figure out how to handle this.’

‘Can you lose him?’

‘Maybe. For tonight. But he can always go after you tomorrow. He can wait around till he finds you alone. Do you want that?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then tell me what he wants.’

‘I don’t know what he wants. I testified against him once. He went to prison.’

‘What did he do?’

‘Never mind.’

‘Thanks for all the information. At least we know one thing; if it is your friend back there, he probably doesn’t plan to shake your hand.’

‘That’s for sure.’ She looked out of the rear window and gazed down the road, searching the shadows.

‘I’ll take you to my place,’ Dan said.

‘No, not your place.’

‘I’ve got a gun.’

‘No!’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘You want to shoot him? That’d be great.’

Dan glanced at her, smiled with one side of his head. ‘It might not come to shooting.’

‘But it might.’

‘In that case, may the better aim win.’

A few minutes later, he slowed down in front of his house. ‘Keep driving,’ Marty said. If you get your gun, someone might end up getting killed.’

‘Damn right.’

‘Keep driving, or you can just let me out and I’ll take my chances walking home.’

He made a snorty sound, then muttered, ‘I just hope your friend isn’t armed.’

Two hundred yards farther, he swung the car sharply onto the narrow road leading to Wilson Lake.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘I’ve got a little plan.’

‘Dan?’

‘Nothing to worry about.’ He looked at her and grinned. ‘Dan’s plans never fail. What does this guy look like?’

‘Let’s go to the police.’

‘I can take care of it He slowed down and peered into the rearview mirror until the other car turned. ‘He’s following us, okay.’

‘Dan!’

‘Don’t worry, everything’s fine. How about getting me a flashlight?’ He pointed to the glove compartment. Marty opened it, took out the flashlight and snapped the compartment shut.

The flashlight had a ribbed metal casing.

Near the shore, the road widened into a parking lot. Dan steered onto its hard dirt. As he cruised past several dark cars with couples inside, he kicked off his sneakers, reached down and pulled off his socks.

‘Going for a swim?’ Marty asked.

‘You never know.’ He stopped beside a pickup truck and cut the engine. ‘Place is sure crowded tonight.’ He slipped his bare feet back into his sneakers and stuffed one of his socks into his pants pocket. ‘Okay, lets go.’

‘Go where?’

‘Out there. For a walk. Too many people around here, even if they are too busy to see anything. Hand me the light, honey.’

She gave it to him, shouldered open her door, and stepped onto the dirt of the lot. The ground felt nice and cool under her feet. But she put her sandals on, anyway, feeling too vulnerable without them. For a moment, she even considered putting her sweater back on, though the night was balmy and her clothes were sticking to her back and buttocks.

‘Shall we take a stroll along the shore?’ Dan asked.

‘Are you kidding?’

‘No.’ He looked over his shoulder. Following his glance, Marty saw the dark car turn slowly onto the parking lot. ‘Let’s go,’ Dan whispered, and pulled her hand. ‘Don’t look back. We don’t want your friend to know we’re onto him.’

At the edge of the lake, Dan turned on the flashlight.

‘What’s that for?’

‘To see where we’re going.’

‘There’s plenty of moonlight.’

‘Your friend has to see where we’re going, too.’

‘Could you stop calling him that. My friend? He isn’t my friend.’

‘If you say so.’

She pulled her hand away. It was wet. She wiped it on her skirt. ‘What if he’s got a knife?’ she asked.

‘That’ll be his tough luck.’

‘I like your confidence.’

‘No, you don’t.’ He led her onto a path. To their left, down a steep grassy slope, the water lapped against the shore. The woods pressed close on their side, forcing them to walk single file. They had to duck under low branches.

‘Couldn’t ask for a better place,’ Dan said.

‘To hide?’

Dan chuckled, then swung the flashlight so its beam swept across the water. ‘Think he saw that?’

‘How could he miss it?’

Dan turned off the flashlight and began to unscrew its base. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘Taking it apart.’

‘Nice,’ she muttered.

‘Here, let’s get into these bushes.’ He dropped two batteries into his palm and pushed Marty. ‘You get over there behind that tree.’

‘Where’ll you be?’

‘Right here.’

‘Dan-'

‘I’ll just have a chat with this guy. What’d you say his name is?’

‘Willy. You aren’t going to do something stupid, are you?’

‘Me?’ He laughed and patted her back. ‘Get over there and hide, and don’t make a sound. If things get out of hand, try and sneak back to the car. I left the keys under the front seat.’

‘Whatever you have in mind… ’

‘Over there. Hurry.’

Marty hesitated. Dan took a quick step toward her, so she turned away. She stepped through the underbrush, feeling its damp leaves cling to her legs, until she came to a birch tree. She crouched behind it to wait, but couldn’t see Dan. So she stood up and leaned against the trunk to watch.

Dan was busy doing something with the flashlight and sock. Dropping the batteries into the sock. Knotting it.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Marty heard nothing but the usual summer sounds of crickets and frogs.

Without a sound, Dan stepped into the path. His right hand, down at his side, swung upward. The flashlight glinted moon like the broad blade of a knife as it plunged upward into the man’s belly.

5

Something shiny swept up out of the darkness. Willy slashed at it with his knife, but missed. A cold, numbing force crushed his breath. His arms dropped. His knees hit the shoreline path. Dirt and gravel scraped his hands. He tried to gasp, ‘Shit!’ but couldn’t. No air.

No fucking air at all.

6

From behind the tree, Marty saw Dan kick one of the arms. It collapsed, and Willy fell face down.

‘Roll over,’ Dan said, barely loud enough for Marty to hear. After giving the command, he waited a second. Willy didn’t move except to squirm on the ground. ‘I said to roll over.’

The gasping shape still didn’t do it.

Dan swung the sock with the batteries in its toe. He whipped it against Willy’s shoulder. It made a dull thump, and Willy cried out. ‘Now, roll over.’

This time, Willy obeyed.

‘Why were you following us?’

Willy gasped something that Marty couldn’t make out.

‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere,’ Dan said. He walked around to Willy’s side and knelt down to look him in the face. ‘God, you’re an ugly asshole. Why were you following us?’

Willy raised his head, but only for a moment because Dan pushed it back down with the bottom edge of the flashlight. ‘Don’t move.’

‘You’re gonna…’

‘I’m gonna what?’

Marty couldn’t quite hear the answer.

‘Is that so?’ Dan smashed the head of the flashlight against Willy’s face.

‘I’m gonna cut off your…’

Dan stuck the bottom edge of the flashlight under Willy’s nose. ‘Sharp, isn’t it? If I ever run into you again, I’ll put your nose where the batteries go.’ From the squeal of pain, Marty thought he was already doing it. ‘You understand?’

Willy muttered something.

Then shrieked.

Then, sobbing, said, ‘I understand.’

‘Good. Very good.’ Dan stood up, wiping the edge of the flashlight on his pants. ‘Just remember, okay?’ He whirled the sock until the weighted toe picked up momentum, then crashed it against Willy’s head. ‘Good night, now,’ he said. Willy looked unconscious. ‘Come on, Marty. Time to go.’

She stepped out from behind the tree, shaking.

‘That should give Willy some second thoughts,’ Dan said.

‘You bastard,’ Marty said. ‘You didn’t have to… torture him!’

‘I wanted him to get the message.’

‘God, Dan…’

‘You think I liked doing that?’

She gazed at his face. It was pale in the moonlight. Reaching up, she brushed his messy hair away from his eyes. His forehead was hot and damp under her fingertips. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I think you liked it. A lot.’

Dan made a sound that was almost like a laugh.

A nasty laugh.

Then he untied the knot from his sock and dumped the batteries into his hand. He slipped them into the metal cylinder and screwed the bottom into place over them. With his thumb, he flicked the switch. Nothing happened. ‘Look at that,’ he muttered. ‘The fucker broke my flashlight.’

Marty walked behind Dan, staring at the ground to keep from stumbling even though her mind paid no attention to the dips and turns and sudden rises of the trail. She didn’t hear the water caressing the shore, or the summer night sounds of small animals. She didn’t see the lightning bugs that drifted among the bushes, silently glowing and fading. She knew they were there; they always had been. But now she didn’t care.

When Dan opened the car door for her, she muttered, ‘Thanks’ and climbed in.

‘Amazing,’ Dan said, sliding into the driver’s seat. ‘A person could get murdered here and nobody would even notice.’

‘They’re busy,’ Marty muttered.

Dan pushed the key into the ignition, but he didn’t turn it. Instead, he stared at the dashboard. Marty wondered what he was waiting for. She said nothing, though. She felt as if he’d turned into a stranger.

Letting go of the key, Dan moved toward the middle of the seat and put his arm across her shoulders. When she faced him to protest, he kissed her.

She pushed him away. ‘Cut it out.’

‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’

‘Wrong? You just beat a man senseless.’

‘So?’

‘And you enjoyed it.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah!’

‘I didn’t exactly enjoy it. More like, it gave me a nice feeling of accomplishment. You know? Like throwing a touchdown pass.’

‘This isn’t football.’

‘That’s right. Maybe I’d better go back and finish him off.’

‘Great. Wonderful. Why don’t you just do that?’

‘He wouldn’t ever scare the hell out of you at the movies again.’

‘That’s a great reason for killing a guy.’

‘What did he do to you?’

She said nothing.

‘How did he make you so afraid of him?’

‘None of your business.’

‘I just beat the crap out of the guy for you. Don’t I deserve to know why?’

‘I didn’t ask you to do that. You did it because you wanted to.’

‘Crap.That’s crap. And don’t go around trying to read my mind. This character did something to you. I don’t know what he did, but you’re my girl and I’m not about to let some asshole go around intimidating you. Clear?’

‘Yes,’ she said quietly, rubbing her face. ‘It’s clear. But Dan, don’t you see that it’s wrong? You can’t go around hurting people.’

‘You can try.’

She turned away from him. ‘Take me home. Please.’

7

‘This stuff really hits the spot,' Tina said.

‘That’s what it’s for.’ Brad refilled both glasses with champagne. He set down the bottle, clamping it between his bare feet to keep it from following the roll of the deck, and put his free arm around Tina.

Fiends

‘You sure know how to throw parties,’ she said.

‘Better than your parents?’

‘Better than the one they threw me, that’s for sure. Which was no party at all, if you wanta know the truth.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s okay. I haven’t had a party since I was eight. Till now.’

‘Ready for your present?’ Brad asked.

‘Sure.’

He took the package off the seat and handed it to her. ‘Happy birthday, Tina.’

She set down her glass and began working on the ribbon. She slipped it off, then unfastened the tape at each end of the package and removed the paper without tearing it.

‘Going to save the wrapping?’

‘Sure.’

‘So you can re-use it sometime?’

‘No! I wouldn’t re-use it. I’ll save it for a keepsake.’

‘Oh,’ Brad said, and felt a tightness come to his throat.

Tina held the flat, rectangular box by its lid and shook it until the bottom fell onto her lap. Then she folded back the tissue paper inside. ‘Brad! Oh, it’s beautiful!’

‘The saleswoman called it paisley. That’s the pattern, I guess. Real colorful and everything, but you can’t see it much in this light.’ The dress unfolded as Tina lifted it from the box. She stretched her arms upward, holding it under the moonlight. ‘It’s just gorgeous! Look how it shines! Oh, thank you. It’s wonderful!’

She hugged him tightly, awkwardly, squeezing his neck. But the hug only lasted a moment. Then Tina put the box and wrappings on Brad’s lap. ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy,’ she said, and hurried across the deck, the dress in front of her like a wispy dancing partner. Once, she made a dizzy sidestep and almost fell. Brad jumped up to help, but she stayed on her feet and vanished below.

He sat at the stern, waiting.

Finally, the cabin door opened, then latched shut. Brad watched Tina’s dark form rise and step into the moonlight.

‘What do you think?’ she asked.

‘Very nice.’

‘It’s absolutely beautiful in the light. All gold and red and blue. I guess you know that, though.’

‘Does it fit all right?’

‘Does it?’ She posed for him.

‘Looks great to me. Is it supposed to cling like that?’

‘Sure.’ She walked toward him, keeping a hand on the gunwale to steady herself.

The fabric, glossy in the moonlight, sheathed all the rises and hollows of her body until it stopped partway down her thighs.

‘It makes me feel naked,’ she said. ‘Naked and covered with something like baby oil so I’m all slick and shiny.’ She rubbed a hand over her ribs. ‘Feel,’ she said, and stepped into Brad’s arms.

Her back was a curving sleekness under the cloth’s lubrication.

She moaned. ‘It feels so good.’ She squeezed him extra hard, grunting with the effort. ‘This is just the nicest gift anyone’s ever given me.’

‘Like it, huh?’

‘I love it. Here, you feel.’ She tugged Brad’s T-shirt off, embraced him and moved lightly against him. The fabric was warm with the heat of Tina's skin, a slippery film between her body and his.

Then Brad noticed that the dress was gathering above his hands. He rubbed upward on her sides, working the dress higher, and slid a hand down until the silken fabric ended and he felt the bare skin of her buttocks.

‘Lift your arms,’ he whispered.

She raised her arms and he pulled the dress over her head. He draped it across the stern seat. Then he held her hands and looked at her.

He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said.

‘I love you so much,’ she said. ‘I love you more than anything.’

‘I love you, too,’ he said.

She moved in against him and unfastened his jeans.

8

When Marty awoke in the morning, the drapes above her bed were bright with sunshine. The drawcord was just out of reach, so she got up quietly and opened the drapes, freeing the sunlight to slant downward onto her bed.

She lay down, closing her eyes against the brightness and enjoying the feel of the heat as she listened to the house. Her mother and father were not yet stirring. She sat up and slipped off her nightgown. As she pulled it over her head, the sunlight touched the skin of her back, warming and soothing, draining away all desire to move. Elbows resting on the knees of her crossed legs, she hung her head and let the sun sink in.

Things should always be this way, she thought.

And her stomach knotted as she half expected to hear the doorbell ring - just as it had rung that other morning, a sunny morning so much like this - when she was fifteen years old.

A warm, summer wind had been blowing through her room that morning, whipping the drapes above her bed and making the light flutter on the pages of Jane Eyre. The breeze smelled of flowers and freshly mowed grass, and hinted of a blistering day.

When the doorbell rang downstairs, she didn’t want to answer it.

But if she didn’t get the door, nobody would, and maybe it was something important.

Rolling reluctantly out of bed, she pressed the open book face down on the sheet to keep her place, then hurried across the carpet to the closet door and pulled her robe off its hook. As she slipped her arms into her robe, the pajama sleeves were shoved up almost to her elbows.

The doorbell rang again.

She fastened the top button of her pajama shirt, hitched up the drooping pants, and tied the robe shut.

The bell rang once more before she got downstairs.

She opened the door. Seeing a total stranger took her by surprise, but there was nothing menacing about his skinny body or his crew cut or his black eyebrows meeting above his nose. His big ears made him look funny.

‘Good morning,’ he greeted her, bowing his high, narrow head. ‘Can I talk to the master of the house?’

‘He isn’t home right now,’ she said.

‘When do you expect him back?’

‘What’s this about?’

‘I do odd jobs.’

‘Well, I don’t know if he’d…’

‘Can I talk to your mother about it?’

‘She isn’t…’

Marty suddenly realized that she shouldn’t be saying such things to a stranger.

‘She isn’t home,’ he said. It wasn’t a question. ‘I know.’ His thin lips curled into a grin. ‘They shouldn’t have left you alone.’

The door crashed into her. She tumbled backward as the stranger rushed in.

Looking up from the floor, she saw the knife in his hand.

‘Stand up,’ he said, waving it.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want you to stand up.’

It was hard getting off the floor because her bones felt soft and wobbly. But she did as she was told.

‘Your bedroom’s upstairs, right?’

She nodded.

‘I know. I know all about you, Marty. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a long time. Ever since I saw you at the car wash with your old lady. You had on white shorts and a red blouse. I wanted to rip ’em off you and fuck you right there. But I’m not stupid. I waited for just the right time. And guess what. This is it. Let’s go upstairs.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Start walking.’ He waved his knife under her chin.

She began to cry.

He walked behind her, the knife point biting through her robe and pajamas, nipping her back. Up the stairway. Down the hall. Into her sun-bright bedroom.

When he began to strip her, she said, ‘Don’t. Please.’

He didn’t bother to move Jane Eyre before shoving her backward onto the bed. By the time he finished, the book’s slick dust jacket was ripped off. The covers were broken. The spine was split, and loose pages were scattered over the sheet, spoiled with blood and semen.

Lying back, Marty covered herself with a sheet, curled up on her side, and watched her forefinger draw a line along the edge of the mattress pad.

Why did he have to come back? What does he want?

Me.

He wants me.

Again.

9

The parking space in front of Willy’s motel room was empty. He pulled into it.

With a grocery bag in one arm, he opened the door of his room. Air-conditioned. Nice and cool.

He dumped the bag onto his bed. Out fell a plastic bottle of aspirin, his filthy wadded T-shirt, and a coil of clothesline.

He pulled off his boots and jeans, staggered into the bathroom.

In the mirror there, he saw what had been done to him. The crusty gash at the base of his nose. The bruises.

I’ll kill his ass, the cocksucker.

Willy took four aspirin tablets, washing them down with handfuls of water. Then he made his way back to the bed. He threw off the blankets and crawled in naked between the sheets.

And moaned.

Slowly, his pain faded.

Everything faded.

In half-sleep, he saw Marty sprawled on a bed, her arms and legs tied to the corners, the sunlight golden on her bare skin.

She looked fifteen for a while.

But then he imagined her changing, growing, getting better, until she became the Marty he’d seen last night.

Before sinking into deep sleep, he made her scream.

10

A young woman named Peggy climbed out of her car. She rubbed her damp hands on her shorts and took a deep breath. Then she walked to the screen door of Mickey’s Bait Shop, dust rising behind her white sneakers.

A bell jangled when she opened the door.

‘Be right with you,’ a voice called from a back room. It wasn’t the voice she expected.

Not Mickey’s.

But at least it belonged to a man.

She shut the door and hooked it. With a flip of her right hand, she reversed the cardboard sign so it read OPEN on the inside.

The shop was shadowy. It smelled of damp earth, fish, and something else. Machine oil? It smelled good - fresh and masculine.

Boots thumped on the hardwood floor. Cowboy boots, probably. Seemed like half the guys in Wisconsin dressed like cowboys.

‘Hi, there,’ this one said as he took his place behind the counter. A good-looking guy, couldn’t be older than twenty. His faded blue shirt was open at the throat. From the look on his face, he liked the looks of Peggy.

She took off her sunglasses.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

‘I was looking for Mickey.’

‘Dad? He was taking a group out on the Eagle Lake.' The son checked his wristwatch. ‘He should be back any time, though. You might try the motel.’

‘My name’s Peggy.’

‘Hi. I’m Brad.’

‘Nice to meet you, Brad.’

‘Is there something I can help you with?’

‘I could use some bait.’ She looked over her shoulder and spotted several tackle boxes on shelves near the door. ‘And how about one of those tackle boxes? My old one’s all rusted out. Would you show them to me?’

‘Happy to.’ Brad came around the end of the counter. He wore cowboy boots, all right. And old, faded blue jeans. When she looked at his face, she caught him checking the front of her T-shirt.

‘How’s life at Camp Wahtooki?’ he asked.

‘A little lonely.’

‘You a counselor there?’

‘Yep.’

‘Well, what sort of tackle box did you have in mind?’

‘Who says I’ve got a tackle box in mind?’

‘You?’ he asked, and grinned.

‘Me?’ Gazing into his blue eyes, she reached forward and gently squeezed his crotch.

His eyes suddenly got very wide. ‘Jeez,’ he said.

‘Let’s go behind the counter.’

Brad glanced at the screen door.

‘That’s taken care of,’ Peggy said.

She led him around the counter, knelt in the narrow space behind it, and pulled off her Camp Wahtooki T-shirt. Brad stared.

She helped him take off his shirt, then embraced him. When she sucked on his mouth, he finally started to move.

He stroked her breasts.

She lay on the cool floor. It was rough and hard beneath her shoulder blades. Brad unfastened her shorts. Knees up, she raised her buttocks off the floor. Brad pulled the shorts up to her knees, down to her ankles. She kicked them away. Brad opened his jeans and crawled between her legs.

He was big. Even bigger than Mickey. So big it hurt. Stretching her, filling her. She dug her nails into his back, crushed her mouth to his, and met each hard thrust with one of her own. Again and again. Clawing, groaning, together pounding him high and deep.

A face appeared above the counter. A girl’s face. She looked sixteen or so. A beautiful face. A horrified face.

It watched.

Somehow, the watching excited Peggy even more.

She didn’t care where the girl came from. Maybe from a rear entrance. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except Brad inside her.

‘God, darling!’ she gasped, clenching his buttocks.

Nothing but Brad.

His teeth clamped on her shoulder as he plunged.

Nothing.

The girl looking down from above had tears in her eyes. She lifted a hand to wipe them off. Her short sleeve was a shiny swirl of color.

Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Nothing, nothing, nothing!

Just THIS!

Peggy’s breath caught. She arched against Brad, quaking inside, feeling his wild spurting throbs. ‘God!’ she cried out. ‘Oh God! Yes!’

As she came, she watched the girl’s face.

The face suddenly lurched away and was gone.

A while later, Peggy said, ‘That was fantastic, Brad.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Problem?’

‘No. It was great. Really.’

‘You busy tonight?’ Peggy asked.

‘Well… yeah, I am.’

She ran her hands through his hair. ‘Another girl?’

He looked solemn. ‘Yeah. My… actually, my fiancee. We're… we got engaged. Just last night. I don’t know… I shouldn’t have… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here with you.’

‘Fucking.’

She squeezed his buttocks with both hands. Tightening muscles inside, she squeezed his penis.

It was still big.

It started getting bigger.

‘Just once more, darling.’

‘No, I don’t…’

‘You want to. I know you do.’

‘It… isn’t right.’

‘She’ll never know.’

11

Four hundred miles south of Mickey’s Bait shop, Willy was driving past the front of Marty’s house. A white Pontiac stood in the driveway. The garage door was open. He saw a Volkswagen inside.

Would’ve been handy if the Pontiac was already gone. But this was fine. This was how he’d figured it. He’d figured on having to wait. In a way, he’d hoped for it.

Gave him time to finish another piece of business.

He turned right, then right again, and came down the back side of the block. The fourth house from the corner was directly behind Marty’s place. Only hedges and a drainage ditch stood between their back yards. Both yards had plenty of trees for cover. Willy got out, leaving his rope under the front seat. He walked to the end of the block and turned the corner.

He came to Jefferson, Marty’s street, and crossed it.

The house he wanted was the third one up, a small place surrounded by lavish gardens.

That’s two things H. Dunning’s got, Willy thought. A green thumb and a big nose.

He walked quickly toward the house, keeping his eyes on Marty’s place across the street. Bad news if she’d happen to look out and see him.

He hurried up H. Dunning’s driveway and took a cobblestone path to the front door.

The doorbell had a weathered note tacked below it. Willy could hardly read the faded ink, but it seemed to say, ‘Bell not working. Please knock.’

He knocked.

‘Who’s there?’ called an old voice from inside.

‘Bill Smith. We haven’t met, but I live down the block. I was passing by, and happened to notice your beautiful azaleas.’

The door opened.

He knew it would.

‘Mr Smith?' The short, smiling woman offered her hand. ‘I’m Hedda Dunning.’

Willy took her hand, gripped it tightly, and threw his forearm against her chest. He shoved her backward into the house and followed her, clutching her wrist. He shut the door.

‘Young man! What’re you…?’ She squealed when he twisted her arm. It was an old arm, bony and brown. Willy wondered if he was strong enough to break it off.

Probably.

Sobbing, Hedda blurted, ‘Leave me alone! Don’t hurt me!’

He grinned and took off his sunglasses.

The old woman’s weeping eyes narrowed. ‘I know you,’ she said. ‘You’re that William Johnson who molested…’

‘Good memory for an old bag. I’ve got a good memory, too. Like, I remember your testimony. You fucked me good.’

‘Don’t you use that language with me, you no-good snake.’ She tried to jerk her arm free. She kicked. The toe of her shoe hit Willy’s shin.

‘Do you think that hurt?’ he asked.

She kicked him again.

His fist doubled her. She wheezed and choked as he dragged her into the kitchen. There, he picked her up. Clutching the back of her collar, he opened the refrigerator door. He shoved her head in. He slammed the door on it.

Eggs fell out of the holder in the door. Two of them broke on the back of her head. Willy had to laugh.

Then he stretched her out on the kitchen floor and stripped her naked.

Later, he wanted to see if he really was strong enough to rip off her arm.

He was.

He tore the other arm off, too. But her legs were tougher, and he was a little worn out by the time he got to them, so he gave up after doing no more than breaking the left one out of its hip socket.

He took a Pepsi out of her refrigerator, popped it open, and sat down at the kitchen table.

From there, he had a fine view of Marty’s house.

12

Marty’s hands were soapy when the telephone rang.

‘It’s for you, dear,’ her mother called from upstairs.

Marty rubbed the sponge once more over the slick surface of the plate, then rinsed off the soap and stood the plate upright in the drain rack. After wiping her hands on a towel, she picked up the phone. ‘I’ve got it,’ she called. Then she said, ‘Hello,’ into the mouthpiece.

‘How you been?’ Dan asked. There was a flatness in his voice. He sounded weary.

‘Not too great. How about you?’

. ‘Well…’ He was silent for a few moments, then said, ‘I’m sorry about last night.’

‘Are you?’

‘I shouldn’t have fought with you like that.’

‘Are you sorry for what you did to Willy?’

‘He got what he deserved.’

‘It wasn’t…’

‘Damn it, Marty!’

‘I know you think you did it for me. But you didn’t have to brutalize the man.’

‘Shit.’

‘Dan!’

‘When are you gonna grow up? You meet violence with bigger violence. That’s how it works.’

‘You’re wrong. You’re so wrong.’ Marty’s chin started trembling. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I know you did it for me, to protect me. I know that. But it was… so horrible! I… I just don’t know…’ There was a long silence in the phone.

‘Dan?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I don’t like… this other side of you.’ Sobbing, she waited for him to speak. But he didn’t. ‘You tortured him, Dan. You tortured him.’

He didn’t try to defend himself; he hung up.

Marty put down the phone and stood there, gazing at the wall. Then she ran upstairs to her bedroom, flopped down on her bed and sobbed into her pillow.

Soon, the pillow was warm under her face. Warm and wet. Her body, tired from crying, relaxed. Sleep washed all the pain away as it came down on her, pleasant and heavy, an old friend bringing peace.

When she woke up, she listened to the house. It was silent except for the electric hum of her alarm clock. She glanced at the clock. Almost seven.

Her face felt tight where the tears had dried. Rubbing it with both hands, she thought back to dinner. Her parents had mentioned going over to the Bransons tonight.

Seven-ish.

The house sounded empty. Apparently, they’d already left.

Marty sat up on the side of her bed, wondering what to do. She couldn’t stay alone in the house - not with Willy out there someplace.

If he isn’t in a hospital.

Or a morgue.

No, he couldn’t be dead. Dan hadn’t hurt him enough to kill him.

She kicked off her sandals, unfastened her belt, and slipped off her shorts. Standing, she looked out the window. The neighborhood looked deserted. No kids were playing in the street or yards. Nobody was mowing grass. Even Hedda was missing from the chair on her front porch where she always planted herself after dinner to watch whatever might be going on within eye range.

Marty shut the drapes, then took off her blouse. As she took off her bra and panties, she thought about Dan.

Don’t wear any. Give him a big surprise.

Sure thing. No way.

She put on a fresh pair of panties and a new bra. Then she put on a fresh white blouse and a bright yellow skirt that Dan liked.

Cause it’s so short.

He’d have me bare-ass naked if I’d let him.

I must be nuts, she thought as she picked up the phone beside her bed and tapped in Dan’s number.

I’m not nuts, she told herself. Everything was fine till last night. Everything was great.

Mostly.

After the fourth ring, his answering machine picked up. The sound of his voice almost made her start crying again.

She waited for the beep, then said, ‘Hi. It’s me. Are you there? Anyway, I’m sorry about… everything. I don’t want to lose you over a thing like this. Okay? Anyway, I’m alone and I was thinking maybe you could come over. But I guess you’re not home? Anyway… give me a call or something. Bye.’ She hung up.

Where are you?

She went down the hall to the bathroom. Grimacing at herself in the mirror, she muttered, ‘You really blew it, champ. Congratulations.’

She washed her face and brushed her hair, then headed downstairs. On the kitchen table was a note:

Dear,

We’re off for the Bransons. Won’t be home till late. If you go off somewhere, be sure and leave a note.

Love,

Mom

Marty went to the sink. Empty. The counter, too. Someone had finished the dishes for her and put them away.

She checked the kitchen door to make sure it was locked. Then she made a tour of the house. The front door was locked. She crossed the living room and checked the sliding glass door to the back yard. When she pulled, it rumbled open. No real surprise; the thing was a devil to get locked.

She pushed it with all her strength and pressed the metal switch. Then she tugged again at the handle. The door stayed shut.

After making sure the rest of the house was secure, she returned to the living room. She sat on the sofa, picked up the TV remote, and thumbed the power button.

The television stayed dark.

‘Great,’ she muttered.

She tried a few other buttons, in case someone had pushed something by mistake. But they didn’t help.

Putting down the remote, she got to her feet and stepped over to the television. She braced herself against the walnut top of the console, bent over, and peered down behind it.

The power cord was unplugged.

‘Huh?’

How the hell could that happen?

Marty stretched herself across the top of the set and reached down for the cord.

A hand grabbed her between the legs.

13

With his one good eye, Homer Stigg saw a girl up ahead. Seemed funny, a young gal like that walking south this time of the evening. Next town, Mawkeetaw, was a good twenty miles. Not so much as a gas station till then. Nothing but road and forest.

Well, he was heading for Mawkeetaw.

His insides seemed to twist up and quiver.

No, best leave it alone.

Such a pretty young thing. Those legs. That golden hair hanging way down her back. And that dress. That dress wasn’t decent. Those colors, though.

Homer had never seen one so shiny and bright. It put him in mind of Joseph’s coat of many colors.

Oh, now she was turning around, looking straight at him.

Her face so sweet and lovely. Her dress sticking to her in front. Plain as the nose on your face, she didn’t have on a stitch of clothing underneath that dress.

Now her thumb was out and she smiled at him.

Homer’s foot lifted off the gas pedal. He felt so tight inside that he thought he might get sick. He hunched over the steering wheel.

Keep on driving, boy. It ain’t right to give rides to such sweet young gals.

But what if you leave her there? If you leave her, won’t be long before another fella comes along. Maybe a fiend who’ll violate the temple of her body.

So he stopped.

Turning his head, Homer watched the girl hurry toward the car. Her dress, all green and red and blue and golden, rippled and shimmered as she came.

Homer leaned across the seat and opened the door for her.

‘Thanks,’ she said, bending down to look in. ‘Where you heading?’

‘Down Mawkeetaw. Hop on in, if you wanta go that way.’

She nodded her head and started to climb in. Homer turned away as she reached a leg into the car and her dress started sliding up her thighs.

‘That where you live?’ he asked. ‘Mawkeetaw?’

‘No.’The door thumped shut.

‘Where you call home?’

‘Up north,’ she said. Her voice had a hard edge.

Homer pulled onto the road. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked. ‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t you defy your elders, girl.’

After a few moments of silence, she muttered, ‘Tina. My name’s Tina.’

‘Tina what?’

‘Never mind.’

‘Where’s your manners, girl?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, sounding like a little child.

Homer looked at her. Her head was down, her face solemn, her hands folded on her lap. The dress barely covered her lap. Her legs were tawny and smooth.

He wanted to touch them.

Looking away quickly, he leaned forward to ease his tight, sick feeling.

But he was afraid she might get suspicious if he stopped talking. So he said, ‘You got family in Mawkeetaw?’

‘No.’

‘Friends?’

‘I’ve been there a few times for the fair,’ she said. Her voice was very quiet.

‘You from Gribsby?’

‘I never said that.’

‘You running away from home?’

‘Never mind.’

‘I’ve got me half a mind, girl, to turn this buggy around and take you back. I’ll bet Sheriff Diggins, he could find your folks in no time flat.’

‘Don’t you dare try it,’ she said. Her voice was a taut whisper. Homer looked at her. She met him with steady, narrowed eyes.

Her face looked as if it expected a punch, but wouldn’t budge an inch. ‘I’m not going back,’ she said. ‘Never. You just try taking me back and see what happens.’

‘Keep a civil tongue in your head, girl.’

‘I’m not going back.’

‘Maybe you are, and maybe you aren’t.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

His heart was suddenly pumping madly. What did he mean by that?

Lord, so confusing.

‘I shouldn’t have picked you up,’ he said. His voice had a dry, raspy sound that frightened him.

‘You didn’t have to,' Tina said.

‘Oh yes, I sure did. I had an obligation. A Christian obligation. It was my duty. I have to save you.’

‘Save me?’

‘That’s right.’

‘From what?’

‘Fiends. There’s all kinds of fiends in this world. Fiends just waiting to get their filthy hands on the sweet, young flesh of girls like you.’ He cleared his throat, but the scratchy sound wouldn’t go away. ‘Just couldn’t leave you there on the road. Fiends’d get you for sure.’

She looked at him.

She looked wary.

‘Now don’t fret, Tina. I won’t let them get you. I’ll protect you. I sure will.’ Reaching out, Homer ran his fingers through her hair. So soft. Soft and golden, like her skin.

14

When the hand grabbed her, Marty jumped and banged her head on the wall. Then she looked over her shoulder.

Willy grinned.

She kicked and tried to shut her legs, but his hand stayed between them, clutching her, hurting her. An arm wrapped around her hips. It pulled her off the television. When she started to scream, Willy flung her to the floor and dropped on top of her, crushing out the scream.

He rolled Marty onto her back.

She reached for his face, fingers hooked for clawing, but he grabbed her wrists. Pressing them to the carpet, he straddled her hips and sat on her.

Marty bucked and twisted, trying to throw him off. Then she saw his strange grin, so she stopped moving.

‘C’mon, horsy! Gideeyap!’ He bounced a couple of times.

Marty’s knee took him square in the back.

‘Naughty horsy!’ he bounced harder.

She shot her knee up again. This time, Willy shifted enough to keep it from landing solidly. Then he leaned forward until his face loomed directly over Marty. ‘Give Willy a kiss to make up,’ he said.

‘Go to hell.’

He bent lower and tried to kiss her mouth. She turned away. He pressed his mouth to her cheek and slobbered on her. ‘Aren’t you glad to see him again?’

‘Get off me!’ She felt the spittle roll toward her ear. ‘What do you want?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘Get off!’

‘I plan to.’

‘Bastard!’

‘I’ll let you up. But if you move, I’ll kill you.’

He climbed off Marty and stood up.

With his weight gone, her body felt strangely light. She tried to rub the pain out of her wrists, then scratched the backs of her hands. They were itchy and red, the carpet’s pattern imprinted in her skin.

As Willy walked toward the hall closet, Marty raised her head. Her blouse had come untucked in the struggle, but its buttons were still fastened. Her skirt was gathered above her waist, exposing her white panties.

She straightened the skirt as Willy came out of the closet.

He had a coil of rope in his hand.

Kneeling beside Marty, he tied a slip knot into one end of the rope.

‘Can I sit up now?’ she asked.

‘Be my guest.’

She sat up and asked, ‘What’s that for?’

‘Hanging you.’ He dropped the noose over her head. Reaching behind her, he lifted her hair from under the rope. His hand paused, caressing her neck. Marty felt goosebumps rise under his touch. She heard herself make a tiny, whimpering sound.

‘Scared?’

She tried to talk, but couldn’t.

Willy laughed. He slid the knot against the front of her throat, then backed away from her and tugged the line. Her head jerked.

‘Ow!’ she gasped.

‘Up.’

Marty slowly got to her feet.

Stall! Do something! Oh, God!

She straightened her blouse and skirt. She scratched her left shoulder as if she had an itch there. Willy watched.

‘Another minute,’ he said, ‘it won’t be itchy anymore.’

She shoved her fingers inside the noose and pulled it open.

Willy was too quick.

He tugged his end of the rope and the noose whipped shut, jerking at the back of Marty’s neck and flinging her headlong into his arms. He hugged her tightly against his body, gave her rump a painful squeeze with one hand, and said, ‘Nice ass.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Let’s go over to the stairs,’ he said. Releasing the grip on her buttock, he stepped backward, paying out rope. Then, using the rope like a dog leash, he led her toward the stairway.

‘You won’t hang me,’ Marty said.

‘Don’t think so? Maybe you’d better hope I do, honey. Cause you know what? I’ve always known I’d come back and pay you a visit. I’ve had a lot of years to daydream about it and think about all the things I’ll do to you. It’s how I used to fall asleep at night in my cell. You were always the last thing on my mind at night. Every night. And I always fell asleep with a boner.’

At the foot of the stairs, he told Marty to stand still. Then he climbed up the stairway backward, paying out rope and keeping the line taut.

‘Willy, don’t,’ she said. ‘They’ll send you back to prison. You’ll spend the rest of your life there. Do you want that? The entire rest of your life?’

‘That’s if they catch me. But they won’t.’

‘Yes they will. If you… everyone will know you did it. They’ll catch you, all right.’

He reached the top of the stairs.

‘Willy? Don’t do this.’ She tried to sound brave, but it didn’t work well.

‘What’ll you give me?’ he asked.

A few strides along the upstairs hallway, and he would be standing directly above Marty.

‘Anything,’ she said. ‘Just don’t… don’t hang me. Please. Don’t kill me. I’ll do anything. Please.’

And then she started to cry.

15

‘I want out,’ Tina muttered, pressing herself against the passenger door. ‘Stop and let me out.’

‘As soon as we get to Mawkeetaw,’ Homer said. He patted her knee. She pulled it away. ‘Scare you? All that talk about fiends?’ He forced himself to laugh. His face felt very hot. ‘I reckon I oughta apologize, but I won’t. Know why? ’Cause I want you scared. Yes, I -do. You're a sweet child, and I want you scared. Graveyards, they’re full of fearless, sweet young girls.’

‘Oh, Christ.’

‘Watch your tongue, girl. Take not the name of the Lord thy God in vain.’

Her lower lip started shaking. Then she began to sob.

‘Aw, now, don’t cry. Nothing to cry about. I’ll take good care of you. I sure will. Nothing to fret over, long as you’re with Homer.’

He shook his head, upset that he’d let his name slip out.

‘Let me go,' Tina said. ‘Please?’

‘Can’t do that. If I let you go, sweetheart, why, a fiend might come by and snatch you up. You don’t want that to happen.’ He reached a hand toward her. She slapped it away.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she blurted.

‘Didn’t mean nothing by it.’ He frowned at her. Tears streaked her face. She sucked in a deep breath and held it, biting her bottom lip. Her arms were crossed in front of her body, hiding her breasts. She was tilted awkwardly to keep her legs out of easy reach. ‘Say, you don’t think I’m a fiend, do you? I’m not a fiend. Heck no.’

‘Then let me go.’

‘Can’t. Wouldn’t be safe. Do you know what they do to pretty girls like you? The fiends?’

So confusing. That awful tightness, his heart thumping, his breath coming so loudly. ‘They start with your clothes. Rip them right off you.’

She jerked at the door handle.

Homer jammed his foot down on the brake pedal. The tires screamed as the door flew open and Tina dropped backward through it.

In the rearview mirror, Homer saw her tumbling along the pavement. By the time he had stopped the car to watch, she was no longer rolling. She lay motionless in the grass alongside the road. Her dress of many colors was twisted high. Leaf shadows, stirred by the evening breeze, trembled on the white skin of her buttocks.

Homer pulled her door shut. He pushed the gear shift into reverse.

His hands clenched the steering wheel and he pressed his forehead against it, shaking.

All so confusing.

Never should’ve stopped.

Never should’ve picked her up.

Never!

He looked at the rearview mirror.

The girl was on her hands and knees, slowly crawling toward the edge of the forest.

‘I’m not a fiend!’ he cried out. ‘I’m not!'

He shoved the shift forward, jammed the gas pedal to the floor, and sped away.

16

‘Anything?’ Willy asked from the top of the stairs.

‘Anything!’ Marty cried. ‘Anything! Just please don’t do it! God! Don’t! Whatever you want! Anything! Just please, please God, don’t hang me!’

‘Okay. Here’s what. Phone that prick boyfriend of yours and tell him to haul ass over here.’

‘What?’ She sniffed and wiped her runny nose. ‘What do you want with him?’

‘A little payback.’

‘Okay. Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll call’ - she dropped backward - ‘him.’ Dropped backward grabbing the rope with both her hands.

Willy let go of his end to keep from being tugged off the top of the stairs, and Marty sat down hard. An odd, tickling pain jolted through her.

Before Willy could bring in the slack, she jerked the noose off her head. She got to her feet and ran for the door. Her hand found the knob. She twisted and pulled. The door swung open. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Willy leaping down the stairs three at a time.

She slammed the door and sprinted across the lawn.

At the street, she turned around. The front door opened. Willy stepped halfway out, then took a backward step and shut the door.

He’s staying inside!

Afraid to come out and chase her?

She supposed he would probably sneak out the rear of the house.

Unless…

He knows I’ll have to come back, sooner or later. What if he decides to wait?

No, he’d be crazy to stay inside. He would have to figure she would call the police.

Marty started running toward Hedda’s place. She could phone the cops from there.

As she started to cross the street, Dan’s car suddenly rounded the corner and pulled to a stop. ‘Where you going?’ he asked, reaching across the front seat to open the door.

‘No place special.’

‘Can I give you a lift?’

‘Yeah. Okay.’ She climbed into his car and pulled the door shut. ‘Did you get my message?’

‘Message?’

‘Guess not. I called you about… ten minutes ago?’

‘Really? No, I didn’t get any message. I thought I’d drop by and… you’ve been crying.’

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s wrong? It’s not because of our…?’

‘Yeah. Of course it is.’

He shook his head. ‘I was just coming over to see if we couldn’t manage to straighten things out.’

‘Nice idea. I had the same thing in mind. That’s what I phoned about.’

‘You must’ve just missed me.’ He smiled at her. ‘Well, where to? Your place?’

‘That wouldn’t be a good idea. Mom and Dad are there. I want to be alone with you.’

He put his hand against the side of her face.

‘How about your place?’ she suggested.

‘My place it is.’

An hour later, Marty was stretched out face down on the bed, naked and sweaty. She felt languid and wonderful. Willy seemed like a problem from long ago and far away.

Dan, sitting on her rump, had been gently rubbing her back for the past few minutes. Now, he swept her hair sideways so it fell over her shoulder.

She was glad to have the hair away from the hot nape of her neck. She supposed Dan was about to kiss her there.

But he asked, ‘What’s this?’

‘What’s what?’

‘This mark.’

She suddenly felt sick.

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘Marty?’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘It looks like a rope burn.’ His hands clamped the tops of her shoulders. ‘How did it get there?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Tell me!’

‘I don’t know!’

‘It is a rope burn, isn’t it?’

Marty didn’t answer. Dan’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. ‘That hurts,’ she said.

He squeezed harder. ‘Who did it to you?’

‘Stop that!’

‘Who?’

‘Who do you think?’

‘He put a rope around your neck?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I got away.’

‘When? Tonight?'

‘Yes, tonight. Forget about it, okay? It doesn’t matter.’

‘When tonight?’

‘Damn it…’

The hands clenching her shoulders suddenly jerked up and down, shaking her.

‘Damn it!’ she cried out.

‘Just before I showed up, wasn’t it?’

‘Let go of me.’

‘The motherfucking bastard. Where was he?’

‘I’m not telling you anything. He wants to kill you, you know.’

‘He was in your house, wasn’t he?’

‘No.’

‘That’s why you were out in the street. That’s why you wanted to come over here. Your parents weren’t in the house, he was.’

‘Go to hell,’ she said.

Dan climbed off her. ‘You stay here,’ he said.

Rolling over, she watched him scurry off the bed. He rushed about, snatching his clothes off the floor and putting them on. When he was dressed, he pulled open a drawer of a nightstand beside the bed. He took out a holstered revolver.

‘No, don’t,’ Marty said. ‘Put it away. Don’t go over there. We can call the cops and have them…’

‘I’ll handle this bum. What the fuck was he going to do, hang you?’

‘He’s probably gone by now.’

Dan took a box of ammunition out of the drawer, opened it, and grabbed a handful of cartridges. He dumped them into a front pocket of his jeans. Then he met her eyes. ‘What else did he do?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Did he rape you?’

‘He didn’t do anything. I got away. Don’t go over there, Dan. He wanted me to call you. He wants you to come over. I think he wants to kill you.’

‘Good. Hope he tries. You stay here till I get back.’ Leaning over the bed, he hooked a hand behind her neck and drew her toward him.

She resisted for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed him. ‘Be careful. Don’t let him hurt you.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, and then he was gone.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Marty listened to his footsteps.

The front door shut quietly. For a few moments, only the chirping of crickets came to her through the open bedroom window. Then she heard Dan’s footsteps by the road. The car door thumped shut. The engine whinnied and started. Gravel crunched under the wheels and the sounds of the car began to fade away.

17

Willy sat in the darkness of Hedda’s kitchen, watching. He’d been sitting there for a long time. He didn’t mind the wait.

Marty would have to come back. Wherever she’d gone after running off, she couldn’t stay away forever. Sooner or later, she’d come home.

Then he would have her.

Nice of her not to call the cops. Stupid, though. Maybe she went off to find that prick boyfriend of hers, get him to handle it.

Willy hoped so.

He got up from the table, stepped over Hedda, and went to the refrigerator. Not much inside. He grabbed a package of cheese, swung the door shut, and returned to the table. There, he unwrapped a thin slice of cheese and began to eat it.

He was working on his fifth slice when a car stopped in front of Marty’s house. A Ford. The same Ford that he’d followed to the lake last night.

Willy pulled the plastic wrapping off another slice of cheese as the headlights died and a man climbed out of the car.

The prick.

And he had something in his right hand. A gun?

Figures. Cocksucker likes to play hardball.

Willy folded the slice of cheese in half, then folded it again, making a small, thick square. He stuck it into his mouth.

Across the street, the prick was rushing across Marty’s front yard. He disappeared around a corner of the house.

‘Gonna sneak up on me?’ Willy asked with his mouthful of cheese. ‘Real tricky, you dumb-ass shit.’

He got up from the table. His fingers were slippery from the cheese. He wiped them on his jeans and headed for the door. ‘So long, sweet stuff,’ he said to Hedda.

Outside, the hot night air smelled like moist grass. A welcome change from the bad air of the kitchen.

The prick was nowhere to be seen.

Walking with a casual pace, Willy crossed the street.

He opened the back door of the Ford, climbed in, and shut it quietly.

Kneeling on the floor, he peered out the window at Marty’s house.

A light came on in an upstairs window.

Marty’s window?

Willy couldn’t remember what her bedroom had looked like, that morning ten years ago. He only remembered that it had been very sunny. Very bright and sunny, making Marty’s hair shine. Her face had gotten sweaty. There were tiny specks of sweat above her lip. They glistened in the sunlight. She had tears on her cheeks. Her eyelashes stuck together, making little, curly points.

The light in the upstairs window went off.

Willy took the knife from his pocket and opened its blade.

18

‘What the hell?’ Roger Sanderson knew it was no mirage. It was a real live girl walking slowly through the darkness, her head down. She wore a paisley dress that was torn behind the right shoulder. Roger slowed down and pressed a switch to lower the passenger window.

The girl turned her face toward him and smiled.

‘You lost?’ he called.

‘Me?’

He laughed. ‘Climb aboard, mate, and I’ll see you to a safe port.’

He watched her get in. Her knees were scraped and filthy. Her dress was very short.

‘Nice car,’ she said.

‘Nice dress.’

She pulled the door shut, and the overhead light went off. ‘You like it?’ she asked.

Roger switched the light back on. ‘Sure looks good on you.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled and blushed. Her face was dirty. Tears, dry now, had drawn streaks down her cheeks. ‘I’m afraid it got ripped,’ she said. ‘Back here. See?’ She leaned forward and turned her back to Roger. Her skin, where it showed through the rip, was scraped raw.

‘How’d that happen?’

‘I fell out of a car. Well, actually, I jumped.’ Her smile vanished. ‘Crazy old guy went weird on me.’

‘Had to hit the silk, huh?’

‘Oh, it’s not silk,’ she said, looking down at her dress. ‘It’s like polyester or something. But it feels like silk, I guess.’ She rubbed the glossy fabric and frowned at Roger.

‘Hit the silk is a figure of speech,’ he said. ‘It means to bail out with a parachute.’

‘I bailed out, all right. No parachute, though.’

‘Did the crazy guy hurt you?’

‘Nope. It was the road that banged me up. He just made a few grabs, but you should’ve heard him talk. Gave me the willies.’ Roger turned off the overhead light, and started driving.

‘So, are you a teacher or something?’ the girl asked.

‘A teacher? What makes you think so?’

‘Your lesson about hitting silk. Plus, nobody but teachers talk about stuff like figures of speech.’

‘Sorry, Holmes, but I’m a sales rep.’

‘I’m not Holmes, I’m Tina.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Tina. I’m Roger.’

‘I think I like you, Roger.’

‘Thank you. I do believe I like you, too.’

19

After Dan left, Marty lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. She should’ve stopped him from going. Somehow, she should’ve stopped him. It was insane, going after Willy with a gun.

She spent a long time lying there, thinking about it all and worrying.

Finally, she got up, went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took out a can of beer. She carried it into the living room and sank onto the sofa.

And gulped the beer.

Damn him anyway.

Has to prove what a tough guy he is.

It’d serve him right if…

No!

God, Dan, you idiot. Who the hell do you think you are, Rambo?

When the can was empty, she flung it across the room. It bounced off the wall and dropped to the carpet.

Then she went into the kitchen and found herself another can of beer. Sipping it, she wandered into the bathroom. She placed the can on the edge of the sink, then sat down on the toilet and urinated. When she stood up and saw herself in the mirror, she shook her head.

Her hair was dark and stringy. Her face was speckled with sweat. She looked down at herself. She was sweaty all over. Her pubic curls were matted down.

She felt pretty sticky down there, too.

So she decided that a shower would be a good way to pass the time while she waited for Dan’s return.

If he does return, she thought.

Stupid macho jerk.

She picked up her can and took it with her to the bathtub. Squatting beside the tub, she had a couple of swallows, then reached out with one hand and turned on the faucets. While the water rushed out of the spout, she tested its heat with one hand and drank beer with the other.

The can was still pretty full by the time she was ready to step in, so she took it with her.

Holding it above the spray, she raised her other hand to close the shower curtain.

She watched the way her arm angled up to the curtain. It was slender and lightly tanned, and it glistened with wetness. She felt a drop of water slide along its underside, tickling.

The curtain’s metal rings clamored along the shower rod as she pulled it shut.

Then she faced the heavy, warm spray.

The water pelted her, flooded her open mouth, spilled down her chin. It drummed her closed eyelids until her eyes ached. Then she bowed her head. It pounded down, matting her hair, streaming down the sides of her face, into her eyes and along her lips and chin. It ran down her shoulders and breasts and belly.

It felt great.

But she wanted to use soap and get herself clean.

Hard to do that with a can of beer in one hand.

So she turned away from the shower. With the spray splattering her back and sliding down her buttocks and legs, she tilted the can to her mouth and drank.

Gulped it down.

All of it.

Then belched.

From the other side of the shower curtain, Willy said, ‘Excuse you.’

Marty jumped and her feet slipped out from under her.

20

As she started to fall, she dropped the beer can and made a grab for the curtain rod. It broke loose and she followed it sideways over the edge of the tub. She landed on her back, both legs propped up by the tub.

‘Nice fall,’ Willy said. ‘Nice view.’

She swung her legs down to the floor, clamped a hand between them and crossed her other arm over her breasts. Raising her head, she looked at Willy.

He stared down at her, grinning. ‘Pretty as a picture,’ he said. ‘Wish I had me a camera.’

‘Where’s Dan?’

‘Who?’

‘Dan.’

‘Oh, the prick?’ Willy spread his arms. The front of hits T-shirt was soaked with blood. ‘I stabbed him with my little knife. Took his billfold. He didn’t have much cash to speak of. A shitty thirty bucks and change. You really oughta go out with a better class of guy. Like me.’

‘You… killed him?’

‘Maybe yes, maybe no.’

‘God.’

‘You really shouldn’t have sent him after me, honey.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Bitch.’Willy took a wallet out of his back pocket and threw it at Marty. It slapped her bare shoulder and bounced off. ‘Time to go.’ He slipped a faded blue towel off its bar and flung it. It dropped across Marty’s knees, but she didn’t make a move to take it. ‘Now,’ he said.

Sitting up quickly, she grabbed the towel.

‘Don’t just sit there, dry yourself.’

Holding the towel against her body, she carefully got to her knees.

‘Now!’

‘Turn around,’ she said.

‘My ass. I’ll give you five. One.’

Clasping the towel to her breasts, she reached out sideways with her free arm. She groped blindly, keeping her eyes on Willy.

‘Two.’

Her hand found the side of the bathtub. She braced her palm against it and pushed herself up.

‘Three.’

She stood up straight.

‘Four.’

She glanced from side to side, looking for a weapon. Anything heavy or sharp. Nothing.

‘Five.’

She backed away as he came forward.

‘You know what happens now?’ he asked. ‘I’m gonna dry you myself.’

‘No.’

‘Yep. You had your chance. I counted five. Lucky me.’

‘Please.’

Her jerked the towel away from her. ‘Nice. Real nice. Last time I saw you stripped, you didn’t have hardly any tits at all. Look at ’em now.’

She tried to push past him. He shoved her backward against the wall. With the towel in both hands, he started rubbing her.

‘Stop it! Don’t!’

‘Real nice.’

‘You damn bastard!’

‘I’m not hurting you.’

‘Stop it!’

‘How does that feel?’

‘You…!’

‘Honk honk!’

‘Bastard!’

He laughed.

Marty drove her knee up, changing his laugh to a squeal of pain.

As he started to fold, she shoved him. He fell backward. She leaped over him and ran for the bathroom door.

She rushed through the door and threw it shut. A moment later, a blast slammed the air. A bullet knocked through the door, throwing splinters into her forearm.

As she ran across the front room, she snatched her blouse up off the floor. She thrust her wounded arm through a sleeve. Some splinters caught the cloth. Others flattened down. She hardly noticed the pain as she made for the front door.

She flung it open. As she raced outside, she got her other arm into its sleeve.

A car was parked along the roadside. Willy’s Chevy.

The street was deserted. The nearest building, half a block to the south, had no lights in its windows. A couple of hundred yards up the road, the woods began.

The woods and Wilson Lake.

If he catches me there…

But it seemed like the only place to go.

The rough asphalt was hot under Marty’s feet as she sprinted up the road. She pumped her arms, throwing out her legs as far as they would stretch, her bare feet reaching out but never far enough. Never fast enough.

She kept running, taking gulps of air in quick gasps, her open blouse flapping behind her.

Soon, she felt an unusual warmth inside her legs. In the muscles of her thighs and calves. Though she tried to work them as fast as before, they began to feel tired and heavy. She swung her arms harder to make up for it. The weariness started inside them, too.

But she kept running.

As she took the turn into the woods, she glanced back.

Car headlights came on.

She tried to run faster. With every stride, her arms and legs struggled against the heaviness. Her lungs burned.

But still she kept running.

Finally, she came to the parking lot by the lake.

Last night, it had been crowded with teenaged lovers in cars. Tonight, it was empty.

Nobody to help her.

Marty dashed for the far side of the lot. She heard the racing engine of the car. Blocking her way was a fallen, long-dead tree. She planted a hand on it, kicked her leg into the air, and vaulted it just as the headlights started sweeping the lot.

She squatted with her back against the trunk and shut her eyes. Her hands were slippery against her knees. Sweat streamed down the burning sides of her face. She took deep, painful breaths, hoping to recover quickly enough to do some good.

Then she turned around and looked over the top of the tree trunk.

Willy was out of his car, walking along the other side of the parking lot, peering into the darkness, pausing to listen.

It wouldn’t take him long to find her. A few minutes, maybe. Gotta do something!

Then she saw the silver path of the full moon shining on the lake.

21

Ahead of him on the dark road, Roger saw a neon sign flashing, WAYSIDE MOTOR INN. The pale blue lights below it read ‘Vacancy.’

‘Hey hey!’ he said. ‘A port in the storm.’

‘Hope they’ve got food,' Tina said. ‘I’m starving to death.’

‘Mah dear, ports in the storm are renowned for their cuisine.’ He pulled to a stop in front of the motel office. ‘You can wait here,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a flash.’

Inside the office, he asked for a room with twin beds. The manager, a stooped and bony old crone losing the last of her white hair, squinted out the office window.

‘My daughter,’ Roger explained. ‘The spitting image of her mother, God rest her soul.’

The old woman’s watery eyes narrowed at him.

Roger solemnly shook his head. ‘Life is so fleeting,’ he said. ‘Feeble candle flames are we, snuffed, perchance, by a vagrant breeze.’

The old woman seemed to shrink. ‘Forty bucks,’ she said, and pushed a registration card at him. ‘Fill this out.’

As he wrote the requested information on the card, he asked. ‘How late does your cafe stay open?’

‘Never closes.’

He paid, and she gave him a room key.

Back at the car, he climbed in and said, ‘All set. Room sixteen.’ He looked through the cafe windows as he drove by. A lone man sat at the counter. Two couples and a family of six sat at the booths along the wall. ‘It doesn’t appear crowded. The food’s probably greasy enough to lubricate a fleet of Lincolns.’

‘I hope it isn’t closing.’

‘The manager informs me that it stays open continuously.’

‘Thank goodness.’

‘That she blows!’ Roger spun the steering wheel. The headbeams lit the side panel of a station wagon, glanced with a blinding flare off the picture window of Room 16, and came to a stop on the brick wall and door. ‘We have arrived,’ he announced.

‘I hope they’ve got chicken in a basket.’

‘Bet they do. I’ll just set the luggage in our room, and we’ll be off. Unless you want to wash up first.’

‘Let’s eat now.’

‘Do you want to see the room first?’

‘I’d sure like to eat.’

‘Then eat we shall, without further ado. Or further a-don’t.’

‘Huh?’ Tina asked. Then she grinned and said, ‘A joke.’

Roger laughed as he hopped from the car. He hurried around the front and opened the door for Tina. She reached out a hand. Roger helped her out. He held her hand all the way to the cafe, where he let go and said, ‘We’ve got to act properly, now. I’m passing you off as my daughter.’

‘Sure thing, Pops.’

He laughed.

Inside, Tina walked briskly to a booth and scooted across it. She patted the cushion beside her and said, ‘Sit here, Father.’

‘I’ll sit over here,’ he said. He went to the other side of the table. ‘And please take it easy on the father routine.’

‘Why don’t you sit by me? Do I smell bad?’

‘You smell fine.’

‘Then why?’

‘View’s better over here.’

She smiled and nodded. ‘Do you think I’m pretty?’

‘You’re a thing of beauty.’

‘A thing!’ She wrinkled her nose.

‘That’s poetry. John Keats. “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.” ’

‘Yeah? That’s kind of nice.’

She was a joy, all right. Roger watched her pick up the menu and study it, her brow furrowed with concentration. Serious blue eyes, a sweet clear face still lined where tears had washed channels through the dirt, hair the color of gold.

And her body. The way the paisley dress was clinging, he could see that she had a very fine body indeed.

‘Look!’ She beamed at him. ‘Southern fried chicken.’

‘This is your lucky day.’

‘Sure is.’ Her eyes suddenly went sad, and Roger realized that today, perhaps, had not been especially lucky for her.

‘Mine, too,’ he said.

‘Huh?’

‘My lucky day. Meeting you. I’m not in the habit of picking up strangers, you know.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Too dangerous.’

‘Why’d you pick me up?’

‘You don’t look dangerous,’ he said. ‘Not dangerous at all, just very lonely and helpless.’

‘I’m not all that helpless.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘You might be right about the lonely, though. You’re lonely too, aren’t you?’

‘Sometimes.’

The waitress arrived. He ordered the fried chicken for Tina and a patty melt for himself. Tina asked for a coke, and Roger ordered coffee.

When the waitress was gone, Tina said, ‘Do you really think I’m pretty?’

‘Very.’

Leaning across the table, she whispered, ‘What about my figure?’

‘From all appearances, it’s in fine shape.’

She nodded in agreement, sat back, and grinned mysteriously. ‘Know something?’ she whispered.

‘What?’ His mouth was dry.

‘Make a guess.’

‘Beauty is truth, truth..

‘No. Guess again, silly. Guess what I’m wearing under this flimsy little dress.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t know. What?’

‘Skin. Nothing but skin.’

‘Fancy that,’ Roger said, and took a drink of water.

22

‘Stop!' Willy shouted.

Marty’s feet slapped into the water, splashing its coolness high against her body. She waded out until it reached her thighs, then gulped in a deep breath and dived. She stayed below, swimming furiously, until her lungs couldn’t hold the air any longer. Then she blew it out in a gush of bubbles and skimmed to the surface. Air! It was fragrant with the night smells of the woods along the shore.

When her breathing became more regular, she trod water and listened. It was difficult to hear much beyond her small area of swirling water and thudding heartbeat and breathing, but she heard enough to know that Willy wasn’t swimming after her.

Not on the water’s surface.

She squinted at the shore, hoping to see him, but only spotted the top of his car. A chill scurried up her back. Suddenly, she half expected a cold hand to clutch her ankle and drag her down. She thrashed out, flattening into a crawl as her legs rose to the surface. She kept her face down for speed. Her legs kicked, tight and fast. Her arms darted forward, reaching her cupped hands far out and sweeping them down through the water.

She swam hard until she heard Willy’s voice from far away.

‘Hey out there!’ he called.

She said nothing.

‘I’d come out and join you, but I haven’t got time.’

He doesn’t know how to swim?

Either that, or he’s just chicken.

‘You better come back. Right now.’ He said nothing for a while. Then he called, ‘Did you hear me? Come outa there!’

She continued to tread water and say nothing.

‘Look, you better come out.’

Marty could hardly see him. He probably couldn’t see her at all.

If he can’t see me, he can’t shoot me.

Probably wouldn’t be able to hit me, anyway. Not with that pistol.

Marty didn’t know a lot about handguns, but she knew they were meant for nearby targets. If you wanted to shoot someone this far away, you should be using a rifle.

And maybe he’s scared to fire because of the noise.

‘I don’t see you coming in,’ Willy yelled.

And he wouldn’t, either.

I’ll just wait him out.

‘By the way,’ he called, ‘I guess I forgot to tell you something about your prick boyfriend. I didn’t kill him. All I did was bonk him on the head.’

Marty’s mind seemed to freeze.

‘He’s in the trunk of my car.’

She couldn’t think.

‘So you better come in now, or I’m gonna open up the trunk and shoot him in the eye.’

Marty buttoned her blouse as she waded out of the lake. When she reached shore, Willy clutched her upper arm and pulled her to his car.

‘I want to see Dan,’ she said.

‘Fuck you.’

He opened the passenger door and shoved her in. The seat felt scratchy against her naked buttocks. Willy shut the door.

She sat up straight and arranged the front of her sopping blouse so it covered her lap.

Willy climbed in and shut the door. ‘I like your outfit,’ he said.

‘Bastard.’

‘You wouldn’t call me that if you knew the great little place I’m taking you to. Nice little cabin off in the middle of the woods. Stocked up with the best canned food you ever tasted. I fixed the place up real nice for you. It’s got real class. Great spot for a honeymoon.’

‘What?’

‘Honeymoon,’ he repeated. ‘You know. No, I reckon you don’t- you still living with your mommy and daddy like a little kid. How come you aren’t married, huh? Never found the right man? Guess I set too high of a standard and none of these pricks can live up to me. That right?’

‘Go to hell.’

‘Anyway, I don’t aim to marry you. Thought we’d have us a honeymoon without. We’re gonna have a great old time.’

‘Eat shit and die.’

‘That’s no way to talk after all my kindnesses to you and Danny. I could’ve killed him if I’d wanted. And I could’ve blown your head off.’

‘You tried.’ She wiped a drop of water off her chin.

‘Not hardly. I tried to miss you, that’s what I tried to do.’

‘Sure.’

‘I’m a dead-on shot. You might find that out, sometime, if you give me much more grief.’

A car swung into the parking lot. Marty watched it creep along. It stopped beside them, only a few yards away from her door.

The driver glanced at her, then took off his glasses and turned his back. He scooted toward the girl in the passenger seat.

‘Aren’t we lucky?’ Willy said. ‘Hope the girl ain’t a pig.’ He reached under his seat and picked up Dan’s revolver.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Just gotta get you something to wear.’ He climbed out, shut his door quietly, and walked around the front of his car, the revolver swinging at the end of his lanky arm.

Inside the other car, the couple were embracing, unaware of Willy’s approach.

‘Watch out!’ Marty yelled. ‘Get out of here!’

The girl with her back to the passenger door saw Willy approach the driver’s window. She stopped moving. For a moment, the boy continued to squirm against her. Then he looked over his shoulder.

‘Oh, hello,’ he said. He sounded embarrassed and very young.

‘Out of the car.’

‘Yes, sir.' The boy fumbled along the top of the dashboard and found his glasses, then looked down at his open shirt.

‘Get out,’ Willy commanded.

‘Just a…’

The girl said something to him.

The boy reached for the ignition.

Willy stuck the gun muzzle against the boy’s ear. ‘Out. Now.’

‘What do you want?' The kid no longer sounded embarrassed; he sounded terrified.

‘You’ll see.’ Willy opened the door for them, and the interior light came on.

Marty saw how young they were. Sixteen, maybe. The girl might’ve been even younger - fourteen, fifteen?

The boy climbed out of the car. His fingers moved quickly to button his shirt as if it were very important.

‘You, too.’

The girl pressed her back against the passenger door.

‘Willy!’ Marty said. ‘Let her alone.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Do you want money?’ the boy asked.

‘Yeah. Good idea.’

The boy reached into his rear pocket. He slid out a wallet. Marty could see his hand shaking.

Willy jerked the wallet away.

‘Hey!’

‘Shut up, kid.’ Willy leafed through some bills, then shut the wallet and stuffed it into his pocket. ‘You’re filthy rich, you little shit.’

‘I’d like to have it back,’ the boy said. ‘Please? Keep the money, but I’d like to have my billfold back. It was a present.’

‘Tough titty,’ Willy said.

The boy’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. ‘Give it over.’

Willy laughed.

Suddenly, the boy went for him, face turned away, windmilling with aimless fists, crying out, ‘Give it you lousy son-of-a-bitch motherfucking bas…!’

The gun barrel crashed against his skull.

Marty cringed at the sound of it.

The boy staggered on wobbly legs.

Willy hit him again on the head. Marty turned away.

When she looked back, the boy was lying on the ground and Willy was leaning into the car. ‘Your turn, hot stuff,’ he said to the girl. ‘Come on.’ He grabbed one of her hands and dragged her across the front seat.

Her free hand caught hold of the steering wheel. Willy tugged until she let go. Gasping with alarm, she tumbled backward out of the car. She landed on her back, legs in the air.

Making a show of gallantry, Willy helped her stand up. He turned her around and brushed the dust off the back of her knit shorts and jersey.

‘Real cute,’ he told Marty, looking over his shoulder and beaming her a smile. ‘Real class.’ He patted the girl’s rump. ‘You’ll look great in this outfit, honey. Think it’ll fit? She hasn’t got much in the tit department. What do you think?’

Fiends

‘Just leave her alone, Willy.’

‘That’s twice you’ve said my name, you dumb fuck.’ He faced the girl. ‘Take your clothes off.’

The girl stood rigid.

‘Come on, hot stuff, strip.’

‘The boy’s clothes will fit me better,’ Marty said.

‘Shut up.’

‘They will!’

‘Strip,’ he told the girl.

Marty threw open the door and started to climb out.

Turning, Willy pressed the muzzle between her eyes. It made a subtle ache, way back behind her eyes, like something she felt once while trying on the glasses of a friend. She sat back down in the car, but left the door open and kept her feet on the ground.

Willy jammed the barrel down the back of his jeans. He grabbed the girl’s jersey at its waist and tried to lift it. She clamped down both arms, holding it in place.

‘Get your arms up.’

She pressed them closer to her sides. Her mouth was a tight line.

‘Okay,’Willy said. He let go of her. Taking out the pistol, he knelt by the unconscious boy. His thumb drew back the hammer. ‘I’ll give you five. Start stripping.’

The girl didn’t move.

‘One.’

She still didn’t move. Marty glanced at the revolver. Its hammer, at full cock, looked like a vicious mouth about to snap shut.

‘Two.’

The girl crossed her arms and gripped the bottom of her tight jersey. She peeled it off in a quick, fluid motion.

Marty felt sick for her.

‘Three.’

She tucked the jersey under her chin and unbuckled her belt.

‘Come on.’

Her fluttering hands opened her waist button, found the zipper tab and pulled.

‘Four.’

The jersey fell, but she didn’t stop to pick it up.

‘Real nice,’ Willy said.

Both her hands tugged the tight shorts down her legs.

‘Five.’

‘There!’ she cried out. Naked except for her panties, she hugged her breasts and sobbed loudly. ‘There! I’m done! There!’

Willy lowered the hammer with his thumb, then stuck the revolver into his jeans again. He picked up the girl’s clothes, shook the dust off them, and tossed them to Marty. ‘Get them on,’ he told her.

‘I’ll have to stand up.’

‘So stand up.’

He went to the girl and put his hands on her shoulders.

‘Keep your mitts off her,’ Marty said.

‘Shut up and get dressed.’

Holding the clothes, Marty watched him slide his hands down the girl’s arms. They moved down her sides. They caressed her hips. They clutched and rubbed her buttocks. Then they tore off her panties.

The girl tried to push him away.

‘WILLY!’

He threw her to the ground.

‘DON’T!’ Marty shouted as he dropped on top of the girl. ‘Stop it! Get off her!’

She dropped the clothes, grabbed Willy’s arm and tried to pull him away. It was slippery with sweat. He got it free and swung at Marty. The girl under him lashed out with one hand, fingers hooked and spread like claws. Willy pulled up short on his swing at Marty and blocked the girl’s attack.

Then he drove a fist down.

Marty heard it connect with the girl’s nose. The naked body gave a grotesque lurch and lay still.

Willy got between the girl’s legs.

Marty dived, tearing him off her. They rolled on the ground. When they stopped rolling, Willy was on top. He sat on Marty’s chest, pinning her arms under her knees. With one hand, he pulled her hair until she gasped with pain. When her mouth opened, he jammed the gun barrel in.

It was thick and cold, and tasted of oil. Its front sight cut the roof of her mouth. It pressed far back toward her throat until she gagged.

23

‘Lucky for you a stiff’s no fun in the sack.’ Willy laughed and pulled the gun out of Marty’s mouth. Its front sight chipped a

tooth. He climbed off her. ‘Get dressed.’

Marty rolled over, choking, spitting gritty bits of tooth into the dirt.

‘Now.’

She got to her feet and picked up the girl’s shorts.

‘Put them on.’

They fitted snugly. After she picked up the jersey, she knelt by the boy. He looked very still. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she felt his body heat and the rise and fall of his breathing.

‘Knock it off,’ Willy said.

Ignoring him, Marty went to the girl. In the moonlight, her face looked black with blood. The nose was mashed sideways, its ridge broken.

‘Put on her top.’

Marty turned her back to Willy and started to unbutton her blouse.

‘Don’t be shy,’ he said. ‘Just think of me as your guy. Which I am. The only guy you’re ever gonna have.’

She didn’t move.

‘Turn around right now or else.’

She turned around. Facing him, she took off her wet blouse. Willy stared at her. Not drying herself, she pushed her hands through the jersey sleeves and pulled it over her head. It stuck to her wet skin.

Willy reached out a hand.

Marty backed away from him. And kept backing away until the side of the car stopped her.

‘Sit down,’ Willy said. ‘Right there. On the ground. Better still, lie down.’

‘What for?’

He grabbed the neck of her jersey and pulled. She went to her knees.

‘Lie on your stomach.’

She did.

‘Now stay that way.’

Kneeling down, Willy went through the boy’s pockets. There was. only a handkerchief and comb.

‘Give him back his wallet,’ Marty said.

‘Shut the fuck up.’

He climbed into the car, found the girl’s leather purse on the floor and dumped it on his lap. Marty, on the ground, couldn’t see what fell out. But she saw Willy pick up a billfold and look inside. He grinned. ‘Not bad. Kid’s got rich folks.’

‘Maybe she works.’

‘Maybe we’ll take her with us.’

‘Great idea. Hold her for ransom?’

‘Nope,’Willy said. He dropped the purse. ‘Ransom, that’d be too much trouble. I’ll just take her along for a little variety.’

‘Broken nose and all?’ Marty asked.

Not answering, he climbed out of the car and went to its front. There, he opened the hood. Her jerked a hose loose and threw it into the lake.

‘Finished?’ Marty asked.

‘Not just yet.’ He stepped over the unconscious boy and squatted beside the girl. ‘See that? Look at the number I did on her nose.’

‘I saw.’

‘A real ugly mess, huh? But it’s just from the neck up, and that isn’t the part that counts. Know what I mean?’ He reached down and patted the girl’s right breast. ‘Guess I’d better not take her with us. Not with her nose like this. People’d wonder.’

‘They sure would.’ Marty spat out a fleck of tooth. ‘They’d ask a lot of questions.’

‘Well, since I’m not taking her…’ He picked up the girl’s legs and turned her until the top of her head was toward Marty. Then he dropped her legs and got on his knees between them.

‘Willy! No!’

‘Yes, yes.’ He pulled the pistol out of his belt and aimed it at Marty.

‘God, don’t.’

He laughed. ‘Think I’m gonna pass up a piece like this?’ He unzipped his jeans.

‘Do me instead.’

‘Thanks anyhow.’

‘Willy, I’d be better. Hell, she’s out cold. She’ll just lie there.’

‘You’re for later. She’s for now.’

‘Don’t do this to her.’

‘Jealous?’

‘Please.’

Willy, grinning, pulled his penis out of his jeans. It was big and upright.

‘I’m not going to let you.’

‘Can’t stop me.’

‘We’ll see about…’

In the distance, a car engine rumbled and sputtered.

They both looked toward the entrance to the parking area. So far, there was no sign of headlights.

‘It’ll be here in a minute,’ Marty said. ‘It’ll be the first of a whole bunch. The movie probably just got out. Pretty soon, this place will be crawling with horny teenagers.’

‘I’m not quitting now.’ Willy started to lower himself onto the girl. Marty scurried backward, half expecting a bullet to smash through her body. She crawled to Willy’s car, stretched across its front seat and reached to the steering wheel.

As she shoved, the blare of Willy’s car horn sounded through the night.

24

The driver’s door flew open. The revolver came in, swinging. Marty jerked her hand away an instant before the barrel hammered the steering wheel where her fingers had been. The horn went silent.

‘I’m gonna fix you for that. Fix you real good. Sit up! We gotta get out of here.’

He jumped into the car and slammed the door.

‘Shut your door, damn it! I could’ve fucked that girl, you stupid bitch. Shut it!’ His fist shot sideways, pounding Marty’s arm as she leaned away. She pulled the door shut. Willy started the engine and backed up.

The headbeams lit the boy and girl. Their bodies were motionless, but Marty knew they were alive.

Alive and lucky.

Willy’s car rolled over the bumpy road, out of the woods, onto the main road.

‘Where’d that other car go?’ Willy asked.

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘It was coming.’

‘Maybe it turned off.’

‘You said a whole bunch were coming.’

‘Maybe I was wrong.’

‘I oughta kill you.’

She looked out her window. There was nothing to see but dark woods.

She looked at her forearm and saw several places where splinters from the door had torn into her skin. She didn’t seem to be bleeding, but the area around the cuts felt tender and sore.

Compared to the rest of her body, her arm was in good shape. Dizzying throbs pounded through her head. The roof of her mouth, cut by the gun sight, felt ragged and painful at the touch of her tongue. The front tooth was crooked and sharp. Her stomach seemed hollow and sour. Underneath the jersey and shorts, her skin itched because she’d still been wet when Willy made her put them on.

You’re in great shape, kid.

At least he didn’t rape the girl.

Thank God.

Marty slipped a hand down the back of her shorts and scratched her buttocks. They felt clammy.

‘Do you mind if I get in the back seat?’ she asked. ‘I want to lie down.’

‘Go on.’

She turned around, crawled awkwardly over the back of the front seat, and dropped onto the rear seat.

‘Don’t try and pull anything,’ Willy warned. ‘Remember who’s in the trunk.’

‘I remember.’

Putting her back to Willy, she curled onto her side and pillowed her head on her arm just above the splinter cuts.

She wanted to take off the damp clothes so that she could get dry.

But she didn’t move.

He’ll look around and see me.

So what? she thought. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen me naked. Anyhow, he’ll only be able to see my back. And what’s he going to do about it?

Trembling slightly, Marty struggled out of her jersey. Then she pulled the shorts down to her knees.

The warm night air blowing through the windows rushed against her skin, soothing it, caressing away the itchy dampness.

Willy didn’t make a comment, didn’t touch her.

He doesn’t even know.

The air kept blowing against her, and soon the pains of the body no longer mattered. Only the warm dry smoothness of the moving air mattered. After a while, she fell asleep.

In her dream, Dan was late coming home from work. Apparently, she was married to him. And he was late. And she was worried. But suddenly the front door opened, and Dan came into the bright sunny room. He was naked.

‘Where are your clothes?’ Marty asked.

‘I had to take them off and leave them in the trunk. They’re all bloody.’

Now she noticed that Dan was all bloody.

‘What happened?’ she asked, not terribly concerned. But curious.

‘Oh, I had a little run-in with one of your old boyfriends.’

‘So, it’s his blood?

‘Mine. But I’m all right.’

He came toward her, arms spread out to hug her. His blood would get all over her. But she didn’t mind. She was naked, too. She could simply take a shower. So she opened her arms for him.

Instead of stepping into her arms, he moved a hand up the back of her leg.

Which seemed an odd trick, since he was in front of her.

His fingers delved into the crevice of her rump.

Marty suddenly woke up and felt a hand back there. She flinched rigid. A finger thrust at her anus.

‘Bastard!’ she yelled.

Willy laughed.

Marty swung an arm down behind her, grabbed Willy by the wrist and jerked his hand away. Still clutching it, she flopped onto her back. Willy was twisted sideways in the driver’s seat, watching her over his shoulder.

‘Let go,’ he said.

Clutching his arm with both hands, she tugged it down and backward.

Willy cried out and seemed to rise higher in his seat.

‘Fucking bitch! I’ll kill you.' Then he suddenly turned his head forward and yelled, ‘SHIT!’

The brakes shrieked.

Marty flew forward and let go of his arm.

The car jerked, throwing her off the seat. She landed on the narrow floor. As she tried to get up, a whining skid sent her sprawling.

Somewhere, a horn blasted. A cry of brakes surged through the night.

But not from Willy’s car.

Willy’s car.

Marty braced herself for the impact.

It didn’t come.

Silence came instead.

The car stopped.

She took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

Nearby, two doors slammed. Then boots scuffled across the asphalt.

Marty thought about getting up from the floor.

But then the footsteps halted near Willy’s side of the car and a man said, ‘Look what we got here! Got a babe here, butt-naked.’ He sounded excited.

‘Sure as hell,’ said a second voice, also male. It came from the passenger side of the car. ‘Hey, honey,’ it said. ‘Honey, you all right there?’

She didn’t move, didn’t say a word.

‘I think she’s out of it, Stu.’

‘So’s this guy.’

‘How come? We didn’t hit ’em.’

‘Reckon they’re stoned.’

‘Yeah, bet that’s it.’

‘Damn near got us killed, fuckin’ drug fiends.’

‘Let’s fix ’em.’

‘Fuckers damn near killed us, we oughta fix ’em good.’

The door at Marty’s feet opened. Rough hands grabbed her ankles and started dragging her out.

She tried to kick free.

Still dragging her, the man called to his friend, ‘Hey, this one’s awake!’

‘Good deal.’

‘Come on over here and gimme a hand.’

He dragged her the rest of the way out of the car. As she fell to the pavement, a blast slammed through the warm night air.

He let go of Marty and called, ‘Stu!’

Pushing herself up to her hands and knees, Marty saw her man start backing away fast, holding out his hands. He was a bald, skinny guy, maybe forty years old, and didn’t wear a shirt. He made little whimpery sounds as he backed up.

The next shot from Willy’s gun punched a hole in the middle of his chest.

25

Roger opened his eyes. Apparently, he’d dozed off. He rolled onto his side. Tina smiled at him. She looked very fresh and young in the mellow lamplight. Her body was a curved mound under the sheet. Her upthrust shoulder was bare. The fine, downy hair on her arms was golden.

‘Did you like it?’ she asked.

Roger smiled. ‘Did I like what?’

‘Remember?’

At the touch of her fingers, he squirmed and sighed. ‘It’s coming back to me,’ he said.

‘Was I good?' Tina asked.

‘Ah, yes. As good as good can be.’

‘Be serious.’

‘Serious?’

She took away her caressing hand. She snuggled against Roger and pushed her forehead against his chest. ‘Be very serious,’ she said. She sounded as if she might start crying. Roger held her gently. ‘Was I good really?’ she asked again.

‘You were fine.’

‘Only fine?’

‘You were fantastic. You are fantastic.’

‘Really? Don’t kid me. Tell me really.’

‘Fantastic. Absolutely.’

‘How many women have you been with?’ she asked, her breath tickling his chest.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Tell me,’ she said. Her fingernails lightly scratched his hip.

‘Oh, six or seven. Seven, I guess. You’re number seven.’

‘Now, tell me the truth.’ Her fingernails stopped moving. Her hand flattened, warm on his skin. ‘How was I? Compared to the others.’

‘The best.’

‘The very best?’

‘Far and away the best. Easily. No comparison.’

‘Cross your heart?’ Her lips brushed the skin of his chest.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

Roger felt her hand move down from his hip. He moaned as her fingers curled around his penis.

‘You sure I’m the best?’ she asked.

‘No doubt about it.’

For a long time, she said nothing. Her fingers continued to hold him. He grew harder and bigger. After a while, she said, ‘There’s nothing wrong with me?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then why?’ Her hand went away.

‘Why what?’

She didn’t answer. She rolled face down and pressed the pillow over her head.

Hearing her muffled sobs, Roger put a hand on her back.

26

Marty didn’t know, until she woke up, that she had passed out after the shooting.

Even before opening her eyes, she knew that she was not in Willy’s car. This car’s engine was quiet. Its air was cool. Too cool. She put a hand on her thigh and felt goosebumps. She moved her feet. The shorts were down around her ankles.

Opening her eyes, she saw the jersey wadded on the seat between her and Willy. She reached for it. Willy’s hand came down on hers. He grinned at her. She jerked her hand away, taking the jersey. As fast as she could, she put it on and pulled up the shorts.

Willy laughed.

Marty said nothing. She sat motionless, arms folded across her chest, and wondered if Willy had raped her while she’d been passed out.

No, she didn’t think so.

‘Real class, huh?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘The car. Real class. Air-conditioning, the works.’

‘How long was I out?’

‘Who knows? I didn’t time you. Did you see the way I capped those motherfuckers?’

‘I saw enough.’

‘What a kick.’

She closed her eyes and rubbed her face with both hands.

‘Too bad you weren’t awake when I moved your Danny boy.’

‘Convenient,’ she muttered into her hands.

‘Huh?’

‘I just happened to be unconscious when you changed cars.’

He laughed. ‘Not my fault you faint at the sight of a little blood. What, you worried I didn’t put Danny boy in our trunk?’

‘I don’t think he was ever in any trunk.’

‘Think whatever you want. He’s in the trunk.’

‘Then stop and show me.’

‘Get fucked.’

‘You killed him, didn’t you?’

‘If you say so. See if those bozos got any maps in the glove compartment, huh? I’ll show you where we’re going.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Sure you do.’ He punched her in the arm. ‘Open it.’

She opened the glove compartment.

‘What’s in there?’

‘Some maps, gas receipts, Kleenex.’

And a fifth of Kentucky bourbon that she decided not to mention.

‘What about a Wisconsin map?’

She pulled out the stack of maps, found the Wisconsin map and put the others away.

‘Open it up.’

She spread the map open.

‘Okay. See a town called Marshall up to the left?’

‘I can’t see anything.’

Willy turned on the ceiling light. It cast a dim yellow glow onto the map.

‘Look near the top. A couple of inches from the top. Marshall.’

‘I don’t see any Marshall. There’s a Gribsby here.’

‘Down the road from Gribsby.’

‘Mawkeetaw?’

‘Down a bit more. Marshall. See it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. Now, there’s a lake over a bit to the right.’

‘Cricket?’

‘That’s her. See a little blue dot beside Cricket?’

‘No.’

‘A little tiny dot. A speck.’

‘I don’t see anything there.’

‘Well, some maps show it, some don’t. Anyhow, that’s where we’re heading. For the speck.’ He turned off the overhead light. ‘A real nice little lake. More like a pond. And you know the nice thing about it? Nobody ever goes there. Not a single motherfucking soul.’

‘Why not?’ Marty tongued her chipped tooth.

‘Fishing stinks. You can’t ski ’cause there ain’t enough room. And it’s harder than hell to find. There’s only one way in. You gotta take this shitty little dirt road that’s so fucked up you can hardly drive on it. Won’t be easy to find at night.’

‘Am I supposed to be your navigator?’

‘Yep. But we still got a ways to go. You can put it away for a while.’ She folded the map, but did it wrong.

‘Nobody ever teach you how to fold a map?’ Willy asked.

‘My education has been sadly neglected.’

He laughed. ‘Bet you learned a thing or two tonight.’

She dropped the map to the floor, and turned her face to the window. In her mind, she saw the shirtless man get knocked off his feet, a hole between his nipples.

‘Yeah,’ she muttered. ‘I learned a thing or two.’

Suddenly, her stomach twisted.

He’s a murderer.

It changed things.

Before, she had been a victim for Willy to kidnap and rape and brutalize any way he wanted. Bad enough.

Plenty bad enough.

But now, she was a witness to two murders.

He has to kill me.

I’ve gotta get out of here!

What about Dan? If he’s alive in the trunk…

I have to save him.

She took a deep, shaking breath, and said, ‘Thirsty?’

‘Huh?’

She opened the glove compartment and took out the heavy glass bottle of bourbon.

‘Holy shit! Good deal!’

Marty unscrewed the plastic cap, tilted the bottle to her mouth and took two quick swallows.

‘Save some for the fishies!’

She handed the bottle to Willy.

He drank. Then he said, ‘Good stuff.’

‘Sure is,’ Marty agreed. She smiled at him. The bourbon seemed to be burning out the bottom of her stomach.

Willy offered the bottle.

‘Thanks,’ she said, taking it.

‘Just don’t make a pig outa yourself.’

She tilted the bottle up.

The bourbon splashed against her tight lips. None got into her mouth. She lowered the bottle, wiped her lips dry, and handed it back to Willy.

‘Why don’t we listen to some music?’ she suggested, and reached for the radio.

The bottle knocked her hand away. ‘I don’t like music.’

‘It’d be nice and relaxing.’

‘We can relax at the cabin,’ he said, and took a swallow. ‘Just a couple more hours.’

‘Can’t we listen to music?’

‘Music sucks.’

‘Then is it okay if I take a nap?’

‘Sure thing. Wanta take off your clothes again?’

‘No.’

He laughed.

Marty made a show of stretching and yawning. Then she leaned against the passenger door and lifted her legs onto the seat. She wiggled as if trying to find a more comfortable position, and let her bare feet slip out from under her. They touched Willy’s hip. ‘Nother drink?’ he asked.

‘Sure.’ She stretched out her arm, pressing her feet harder against him. She pretended to take a swig.

‘Have more.’

She pretended to swig again. Then she handed the bottle back to Willy, and sighed loudly.

‘Lucky for you my hands are full,’ Willy told her.

Grinning, he took a drink.

Marty curled her toes against the side of his leg. She bent toward him. He gave her the bottle. While she lifted it to her mouth, Willy’s

free hand caressed her legs. She lowered her feet to the floor and scooted a little closer to him. His hand moved up her thigh, but she set down the bottle in its way. Laughing, he took hold of the bottle and picked it up. ‘What’ll you do when it’s empty?’ he asked.

‘I just don’t know,’ she said.

‘You’ll get fucked, that’s what.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ She started to move away from him.

He planted the bottle between his legs and threw an arm across her shoulders, stopping her. She relaxed against him. He lifted his arm off her, retrieved the bottle and drank several large swallows.

He clamped the bottle between his thighs again, and returned his arm to her shoulders.

‘Let me.’ She reached over and plucked out the bottle. When she raised it to her mouth, Willy’s arm pushed downward between her back and the seat. She leaned forward, sipping. His hand went under her jersey.

Marty didn’t resist.

She drank, instead.

His hand moved slowly up her side. It was warm and dry. The fingers were long. They caressed her skin as they roamed higher.

Marty took a big swallow of bourbon when the hand found her breast.

It tickled, it massaged, it squeezed.

Lowering the bottle, Marty clutched his hand and pressed it harder against her breast. She moaned. Clamping the bottle between her legs to free her other hand, she grabbed Willy’s thigh.

‘Go for it, honey,’ he said.

Marty squeezed his thigh until it must’ve hurt. Groaning, Willy dug his teeth into her shoulder. The car swerved. His groaning changed to a gasp of alarm. The hand under Marty’s jersey went still as he focused on steering.

When the car straightened out, he laughed and yelled, ‘Yeah!’ and gave her breast a tweak.

Marty flinched and grabbed his wrist. ‘Quit it, now,’ she said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I’ve been through a hell of a lot with you, Willy. I’ll probably go through lots more. But not, if I can help it, a windshield.’

‘Maybe I’d better pull over, huh?’

‘Maybe so,’ Marty said.

But he didn’t.

27

Roger stroked the length of Tina’s back, and kissed her shoulder. Still she continued to cry. He started to ask her what was wrong, but stopped himself. He was tired of asking, and tired of being answered with speechless sobs.

‘I wish you’d stop that,’ he finally said. ‘I hate it when a woman cries. Is it something I did?’

A muffled ‘No’ came from under the pillow.

‘Something I didn’t do or say?’

‘It isn’t you.’

‘Well, that’s nice to know. I wish you’d told me that half an hour ago.’ He pulled the pillow off her head. She looked up at him. Hair hung in her eyes. She pushed the hair away, and her eyes were red.

‘What is it?’ Roger asked. ‘I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but maybe I can help. You never know. I’ll help you if I can.’

‘Thanks,’Tina said.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You might feel better if you talk about it. That's what they always say, anyway. I don’t know how true it is.’

She sniffed and said nothing.

‘Is it a guy?’

She nodded.

‘What did he do? Did he hurt you?’

She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. ‘I found him with… making love with somebody. Right in the store. Right behind the counter. He was going to marry me.’ A tear trickled from the corner of her eye, down her temple and into her ear. With a fingertip, she rubbed it out of her ear. She wiped her eyes.

‘Who was the girl?’

‘I don’t know. Someone from Camp Wahtooki. It’s a summer camp down the road from town. A girl’s camp. She was maybe a counselor, or something. She had one of those camp station wagons, so I guess she must be a counselor. The bitch.’

‘Do you think the guy is serious about her?’

‘It looked serious to me. Brad was screwing her.’

‘I mean, have they been seeing each other?’

‘I don’t know. How should I know? He’s with me nearly all the time when he’s not working. Maybe she visits him at the bait shop every day. I don’t know, I just walked in on him. It was like one of those dumb things that happens on TV. But, hell, you know, I drop in on him all the time and… I’ve never caught him doing that before.

‘Did you talk to him about it?’

‘Are you kidding?’

‘No. Maybe it was completely innocent.’

‘How could it be innocent? He was humping the bitch.’

‘What I mean is, maybe it didn’t mean anything.’

‘It means plenty when you get down on the floor and stick your weenie in a woman. Doesn’t it?’

‘Usually,’ Roger admitted. ‘But the thing is, any normal guy is going to do it to a good-looking gal if the opportunity presents itself. Especially if he’s not married. Even if he is, maybe, depending on the guy.’

‘God, that’s nice.’

‘It can be nothing more than a physical thing. There doesn’t always have to be a big emotional involvement.’

‘We were going to get married!’

‘So?’ Roger said.

She glared at him.

‘I’m not claiming it’s right. I’m only saying it sometimes will happen, and maybe the guy really does love you and just got… involved, carried away. It happens. It almost happened to me. Several times.’

‘Almost?’

‘I guess the Boy Scout in me won out against the lech. I was married then. Somehow, I always managed to resist the temptations. It wasn’t easy. Some of those gals… Now I sometimes wish I’d gone ahead. Faithful, boring Roger should’ve put it to every babe in sight. If I’d known what my dear wife was up to, I would’ve had myself a field day.’

‘She was playing around?’

Roger couldn’t answer. He lay on his back and rubbed his face. It made him feel weary and sick to remember. Finally, he said, ‘I wanted to kill her when I found out.’

‘I wanted to kill myself,' Tina said.

‘Instead, we both ran away.’

‘Yep.’

‘That’s because we have high moral character.’

‘Is that why?' Tina asked, and smiled.

‘But of course. What’d you say the guy’s name is? The guy that cheated on you?’

‘Brad.’

‘Tell you what, why don’t you give him a call?’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘Sure you can. I told you that I’d help, didn’t I? Well, this is my help. Advice based on years of wisdom. Phone Brad. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. Just call and see what happens.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Go ahead. The phone’s right there beside you.’

‘I can’t just call him.’

‘Sure you can.’

She shook her head.

‘Go on. You want to. I know you want to.’

‘I guess so, but…’

‘Then do it.’

‘Well...'

‘I’ll go into the bathroom if you don’t want me to listen.’

‘No, stay.’ She rolled onto her side, facing away from Roger.

He put his hand on her bare shoulder.

She swung her feet off the bed and sat up. Leaning forward, she reached to the telephone and lifted its handset.

‘Do you know his number?’ Roger asked.

She nodded.

‘Probably press nine for an outside line, then do the area code and number. That’s how these things usually work.’

‘Should I reverse the charges?’

‘This is on me.’ He put his hand on her shoulder again. He could feel her trembling. ‘Just go ahead,’ he told her.

She tapped in the numbers, and waited.

They both waited.

Then she said, ‘Hi, it’s me.’ Silence. Then, ‘I don’t know, somewhere down south. Near a place called Wayside, I think… I managed… Yes, I thumbed… I know how dangerous it is. So what? A lot you care…You know what I mean. I saw you with her. Behind the counter…Yes, that.’

There was a long silence. As she listened to the phone, Tina began to cry softly. Roger kissed the back of her shoulder.

‘I don’t know,’ she said into the phone. ‘It hurt, Brad. It really hurt… I love you, too… Sure, I do…You don’t have to do that. Just go to bed and I’ll see you in the morning… The same way I got here… No, don’t. I’m starting back now, so if you drive down we’ll probably miss each other…Yes, I’ll be careful. Could you give my parents a call and tell them I’m okay?… I love you, too.’

She hung up. Then she eased down onto her back, reached up and curled a hand behind Roger’s neck. She drew his head down and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘My pleasure.’

Then she got off the bed and picked up her paisley dress.

‘What are you doing?’ Roger asked.

‘I’m going back to Brad.’

‘Now?’

‘Yup.’

‘Why wouldn’t you let him pick you up?’

She pulled the shiny dress over her head, saying, ‘I can’t let him see me like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’m a mess. My dress is torn.’

‘How do you plan to get home?’

‘Hitch a ride.’

‘At this hour?’

‘I’ll manage.’ She buttoned the front of her dress.

‘It’s too dangerous. Let me drive you.’

‘Nah. I’ll be fine. It’d be all out of your way, and…’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Thanks, but… nah. I’m going back to my guy, you know? Wouldn’t be right, you taking me. Not after what we did.’

‘But it’s the middle of the night.’

‘I can take care of myself.’

‘Why don’t you at least stay here till morning? Maybe we can find somebody in the coffee shop. Somebody nice and reliable to give you a lift home. Preferably of the female persuasion.’

‘I can’t wait that long.’ Done with the dress, she stepped over to Roger. ‘Thanks so much for everything. You’ve been great, really great.’ She bent over and kissed him.

He didn’t let himself enjoy the soft touch of her lips or the warmth of her body. In minutes, she would be gone. He would probably never see her again. It was better, now, to let himself get no closer to her. ‘I hope everything works out,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’

‘You really ought to wait for morning.’

‘I know, but I can’t.’

‘It won’t be safe out there. Everybody in the world isn’t… there are lots of nuts out there.’

‘Fiends, too,' Tina said. She smiled gently and pushed her fingers through his hair. ‘I’ll always remember you, Roger.’

‘I’ll remember you, too. Sure will.’

‘You go to sleep, now.’

After watching her leave, he rolled to her side of the bed, reached up and turned off the lamp. Then he lay back. He stared for a long time into the darkness, wondering about what he’d just lost.

28

Willy took a long pull at the bourbon and gave the bottle to Marty.

She pretended to drink while Willy drew his fingernails up the inner side of her thigh. The nails made her squirm with a sickish, hurting tingle. Then his hand pressed between her legs and rubbed her through the soft cloth of the shorts.

The headlights caught a road sign. Willy’s hand stopped moving and he read aloud, ‘Wayside. Pop, a thousand ’n twenty-two. Issa biggy.’

There were a few homes scattered along the roadsides, most of them dark at the windows as if abandoned to the night. At the edge of town, the Dairy Queen was open and crowded.

‘Lookit all the babes!’ Willy slowed down and stared out at them. ‘Nice. Really really nice. Hey, lookit the titties on that one!’

‘Want her instead of me?’ Marty asked, trying to sound annoyed. ‘You can take her to your cabin.’

‘Shit, I’d take ya both. Wouldn’ mind that. Wouldn’ mind at all. Not a bit. Little variety… I’d screw ya one adda time, ’n both at once. Wouldn’ mind that.’

But he kept on driving. Past a closed gas station, into the town’s business district. All the stores were closed. Some kept their signs turned on, but most didn’t. Every store had a light inside casting a dim, lonely glow onto the deserted sidewalks in front. The marquee of the movie theater near the end of town was dark. Its ticket booth was empty. Through the glass doors of the lobby, Marty could see a man in a purple coat talking with a uniformed girl at the snack counter.

‘How come you didn’t stop for that queen of tits at the Dairy Queen?’ Marty finally asked. ‘Thought you wanted…’

‘You’d of tried to get away.’

‘No, I wouldn’t. Not anymore. I’ve been… remembering. How it was the last time.’ She rubbed his hand against her groin. ‘How good it felt.’

‘You were screaming.’

‘Just ’cause I was scared. But I loved how you felt. Inside me. I want you inside me. Just like before.’

‘Liked it, huh?’

‘It was the best ever. If we weren’t in this damn town, I’d make you pull off the road right now and fuck me.’

‘We’ll be outa here in a minute.’

‘Hurry.’ She stood the bottle on his leg. Willy took his hand away from her and lifted the bottle to his mouth. As he drank, Marty squeezed the front of his jeans. His penis was hard. She felt it move under her hand.

The tires bumped over railroad tracks at the end of town.

Pretty soon, Marty thought. Can’t let the town get too far behind.

There were houses on both sides of the road. Then an open gas station, a cafe called Bab’s Burgers, a motel with its big sign flashing Wayside Motor Inn.

‘A motel!’ Marty blurted. ‘Why don’t we go in and get a room?’ She gave him another gentle squeeze. ‘Think how nice it would be. We’d have a bed.’

They had already left the motel behind, but Marty didn’t give up. ‘Come on, Willy. It’d be great. You oughta turn around. We’d have a big old bed. And a shower. We could take a shower together. Have you ever done it in the shower? We’d both be all slippery…’

‘Shit!' Willy blurted. ‘Lookit her!' Marty saw her, and groaned.

It was a girl, probably no older than sixteen, slim and blonde and walking backward along the roadside, her arm out, her hand closed, her thumb pointing behind her. She wore a paisley dress skimpy enough to guarantee rides from men.

Willy’s foot lifted off the gas pedal.

‘Don’t stop,’ Marty whispered.

The girl took a wide stance, her dress drawing taut across her crotch.

‘Shiti’Willy said.

Now the girl was behind them, and Willy’s foot was lowering onto the brake pedal.

‘Don’t stop, honey. You have me.’ Marty capped the bourbon bottle and set it on the floor. ‘You don’t need anyone but me.’

‘Need her.’

The car stopped. Marty looked over her shoulder. The girl, bathed in the eerie redness of the rear lights, was starting to jog forward.

So young…

Too damn young! Just a kid.

‘Drive,’ Marty said.

She jerked open Willy’s belt, unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He had no underwear on. His penis was a thick, pale column tilting upward, its tip almost touching the steering wheel.

Marty heard footfalls in the gravel. In the side mirror, she saw the girl hurrying toward them.

Closer and closer…

Only a few strides away…

‘Drive!’ Marty said and dropped down toward Willy’s lap and took him into her mouth and sucked.

Willy stepped on the gas.

‘Hey!’ the girl yelled.

Willy sped away from her.

Marty slid her mouth, licking and sucking.

‘Uhhh, yeah,’ Willy gasped. ‘Yeah. Oh, babe! Suck me off. Do it, do it! C’mon!’

She had saved the girl.

He might go back to her if I stop.

She kept on.

Gotta get him into the woods. Away from the car and Dan.

If Dan’s even still in the trunk.

If Dan’s even alive.

If she finished Willy with her mouth, he might not bother taking her into the woods. He might take her straight to the cabin.

Don’t wanta go there.

She tried to take her mouth away, but Willy gripped the back of her head and held her down.

Pushed her down, ramming deep.

She gagged and struggled to pull away but Willy only forced her head down harder.

Bite him!

He’d kill me for sure.

But she was choking. It was blocking her throat. She tried to breathe through her nose, but couldn’t.

Her hand reached up and found the steering wheel.

She grabbed the wheel and tugged.

Willy’s hand leaped away from the back of her head.

Marty, still clutching the wheel, resisting Willy’s efforts to turn it, shoved herself up until her mouth was empty.

She was still choking when the car swerved to the side of the road and skidded to a stop.

29

‘Coulda got us killed,’ Willy said. ‘That’s twice…’

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t mean to grab the wheel.’ She leaned against him, kissed him, and lowered her hand onto his lap. She lightly wrapped her fingers around him. He was as big as before, wet and slick from her mouth. ‘Let’s go in the woods now,’ she whispered.

‘Sure. Why the hell not. Where’s the bottle?’

Marty found it under the seat, and sat up with it. Shaking it, she heard sloshing sounds; some bourbon still remained in it.

Willy finished fastening his jeans. Then he shoved the car keys into his right front pocket. He climbed out, the revolver in his hand, and pushed its barrel down the front of his waistband. ‘Bring the bottle with ya,’ he said.

Marty opened her door. The night air rushed in. It was cooler than before, but felt balmy after the chill of the air-conditioner. She climbed out and shut the door.

Willy came over to her side of the car. ‘Let’s go this way,’ he said. He draped an arm over her shoulders and she led him down a grassy embankment. At the bottom, the ground was springy and wet. Water pressed up between Marty’s toes. But the ground was dry on the slope. She climbed higher. Just beyond the top of the ditch, the trees began.

‘Don’ wanna go far,’ Willy said, pulling back at the edge of the forest.

Marty kissed him on the mouth. ‘We wanta get away from the road, don’t we? Case somebody comes by?’

He answered by squeezing her breast. Then he said, ‘Gimme the bottle, honey.’

She handed it to him, then led him forward. They walked past three trunks, clumps of bushes, more trees, deeper and deeper into the woods, farther from the car. Farther from Dan in the trunk.

If he’s in the trunk.

Finally, they came to a small, moonlit clearing. ‘How about here?’ Marty asked.

Willy swung her around. She hugged him. One of his hands slipped under the back of her jersey and roamed her bare skin. The other, holding the bottle outside her jersey, pressed her tightly against him.

The revolver dug into her belly.

Get my hands on it…

She lowered a hand, squeezed Willy’s thigh, raised her hand to the hard bulge, squeezed and fondled him there as his mouth pressed her lips roughly and his tongue pushed between her teeth. Sneaking her hand sideways, she felt the steel barrel through his jeans.

‘Wrong gun,’ he gasped into her mouth.

She pulled his zipper down and reached into the open fly.

His hand was no longer under her jersey. It bumped against her hand, and she wondered for a moment what he was up to.

As she slipped him out through his fly, he unfastened the front of her shorts.

That’s what.

She raised her hand to his belt buckle.

Her knuckles brushed the wooden grip of the revolver.

Now! Do it now! Grab it!

But her hand wouldn’t move. It stayed at the belt buckle, trembling.

Willy started tugging at her shorts. They were tight. He jerked and dragged at them until he got them down around her knees. They were loose there. When he let go of them, they dropped to her ankles.

He pushed his hand between her thighs.

Grab his gun!

A finger slipped into her.

With a gasp, she staggered backward. The shorts caught her ankles. Caught and held and tripped her.

Willy held on.

Held on and went down with her as she fell and smashed her hard against the ground.

The pistol butt rammed into her belly.

The bottle under her back broke.

From the clink it made before bursting, Marty guessed it had struck a rock.

The back of her jersey was suddenly soaked with bourbon. And maybe blood. She felt glass in her skin.

‘The bottle broke,’ she said.

‘Yeah?’Willy pulled his arm out from under her.

‘I’m cut,’ Marty said. ‘It’s under my back. It’s in pieces. It’s cutting me. You’ve gotta get off.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Please.’ There were pieces buried in her skin. She felt numb in places. Other places were starting to sting, and streams of blood were tickling along the arch of her back. ‘Just get off me for a second...

Willy pushed himself up and sat across her hips.

She started to raise her back off the ground, but he clutched her throat and held her down.

‘Please,Willy.’

Grinning, he shook his head. Either he was too drunk to understand or care about the glass under Marty, or he liked the idea of grinding her into it.

Pleading, she thought, might only make it worse.

Willy pulled the revolver out of his jeans, tossed it on the wet grass about six feet away, and unbuckled his belt.

‘Honey,’ Marty said, trying to stay calm. ‘Let go of my throat, okay?’ She crossed her arms over her belly and started to pull up the jersey. ‘I can’t get it off without sitting up.’

He leaned back, taking his hand from her neck, and finished opening his jeans. Then he took off his shirt and threw it aside.

As Marty slowly raised her back off the ground, she pulled the jersey up. It was sticky with blood. Shards of glass pulled loose from her back, dropped and tinked against others. When the jersey was off, she flung it away. Sitting upright, she wrapped her arms around Willy and hugged him tightly…

And twisted to the left so they tumbled sideways, rolling.

She came down on her side. Though she felt no broken glass, she knew it couldn’t be more than a few inches away. So she wrestled Willy onto his back. Stretched out on top of him, she pushed her open mouth against his.

Reaching out with one arm, she patted the dewy grass. Stretched her fingers.

Then had to look.

The revolver lay three or four inches beyond her fingertips.

Willy squirmed beneath her, trying to force her legs apart.

They suddenly rolled onto their sides. Farther from the gun.

Marty swung a leg over him and forced him onto his back again.

Straddling him, she reached out for the revolver.

He clutched her buttocks and thrust.

Marty grabbed the gun by its barrel.

Willy’s penis rammed deep into her, throbbing and squirting.

She swung the pistol and clubbed the side of his head.

Willy yelped. His body jerked rigid, and he suddenly went limp.

Except for the part that was buried in Marty.

Still rigid, it kept jumping and spurting for a few seconds after the rest of Willy seemed to be unconscious.

As fast as she could, Marty climbed off.

On her feet, she took a couple of steps backward, then stopped and reversed the revolver and took aim at Willy.

He wasn’t hard any more.

He lay motionless on the ground.

Marty felt blood running down her back, her buttocks, and the backs of her legs. She felt semen dribble out of her and trickle down her left thigh.

Soon, Willy moaned and pressed a hand against his ear. He squirmed a little.

When he opened his eyes, Marty thumbed back the hammer and aimed at his face.

‘Don’t,’ he said. The word came out like a groan of pain and fear. ‘Please, don’t shoot me.’

‘Dirty rotten bastard,’ she said.

‘Please.’

‘Don’t move.’ Keeping the gun leveled at him, she crouched and

picked up his shirt. She wiped herself with it and flung it at him. He cringed as if he expected the shirt to burn him. When it fell onto his legs, he flinched.

‘Don’t move,’ Marty repeated.

Trying to keep the revolver aimed at Willy as much as possible, she put on her shorts. Then she picked up her torn, bloody jersey. She put the gun through its right sleeve and used her left hand to pull the jersey up her arm and over her head. For a few moments, she was blind. But when she could see again, Willy was still on his back.

She changed the gun to her left hand, worked it under the jersey and out through the left sleeve.

‘Okay,’ she said, the jersey still rucked up above her breasts. ‘Pull your pants up.’

As he drew the jeans up his legs, Marty tugged her jersey down. It felt heavy and wet and sticky against her back. It hurt her cuts, but she was glad to be dressed.

She waited for Willy to finish with his jeans. Then she told him to put on his shirt.

When he had it on, she said, ‘Stand up.’

‘Where we going?’ he asked.

‘Back to the car. Let’s go.’

Trying to get to his feet, he staggered and fell down. But he tried again. This time, he made it.

‘Walk ahead of me,’ Marty told him.

He turned his back to her and started walking. He walked awkwardly, sometimes stumbling.

Marty followed him, staying a few paces back and out of reach. Soon after they entered the thick trees, she uncocked the gun to prevent it from going off by accident.

It seemed to take a very short time to reach the edge of the woods.

Marty followed Willy down the grassy slope to where the ground was soggy, and up the embankment to the road. Willy stopped beside the car and turned around to face her.

‘Open the trunk,’ she ordered.

‘Okay,’ said Willy. But he didn’t move.

‘Now.’

‘Whatcha gonna do if I don’t?’

‘Shoot you and open it myself.’

‘You ain’t gonna shoot me.’

‘Just open the trunk and…’

He lurched toward Marty, reaching for the gun.

She pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Willy grabbed the barrel. As he jerked the gun away from her, he punched her in the face.

Marty dropped to her knees.

‘It’s single action,’ he said. ‘You dumb fuck. Gotta cock it.’

His fist came in, smashing her face again. And again. And again. She slumped backward.

Willy said something, but she couldn’t hear him through the ringing in her ears. She tried to get up. Her legs were bent behind her and her arms wouldn’t work right.

Willy walked toward the rear of his car.

Marty struggled to her knees. Her head drooped. It felt as heavy as lead. The side of her face was burning from the punches. She wanted to let her arms fold, to stretch out on the ground and lie there, on and on.

Instead, groaning with pain, she raised her head. She saw Willy open the trunk of the car. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but she didn’t have the strength. Then she saw him raise the revolver, cock it, and aim into the trunk.

‘NO!’ she screamed.

The gun blasted, leaping in his hand.

Marty struggled to her feet and staggered to the back of the car. Before Willy could grab her, she glimpsed Dan’s face in the darkness of the trunk.

The top of his head was partly gone.

‘NO!’

She kicked and squirmed in Willy’s arms, but couldn’t get loose until her teeth found his ear and she bit it hard. His yell of pain stunned her for a second. Then she realized that he had let go of her.

She dashed to the edge of the embankment and jumped as far as she could. She made it almost to the bottom before her heels hit the wet grass. Her legs flew forward and her rump hit the slope. She slid the rest of the way down, then scrambled to her feet and ran, splashing through the soggy grass.

‘Stop!’ Willy shouted.

Her legs chugged, carrying her up the rise on the other side of the ditch.

From behind her came the sound of a metallic clank.

The gun hammer dropping.

But there must’ve been no live round in the chamber, because there was only the clank and no blast.

She reached the top of the slope.

Broke into a sprint for the woods.

A root snagged her foot.

As she lurched forward, falling headlong, a gunshot split the night.

30

Willy grinned when he saw the girl walking backward alongside the road ahead, her thumb out. The same girl he’d tried to stop for, back near that town.

She must’ve passed his car while he’d been out in the woods with Marty.

She’d gone a pretty good distance, too.

A mighty quick walker.

He stopped his car beside her. ‘Want a lift?’ he called out the passenger window.

‘Man, oh man, do I!’

The light inside the car came on when she opened the door, and Willy got a good look at her.

Nice. Real nice.

He always did like the young stuff, and the way this gal’s dress was clinging to her skin… He watched it slide up her thighs when she climbed into the car.

‘Where’re you headed?’ he asked.

‘Gribsby.’

‘I’m going as far as Marshall.’

‘Oh, that’s fine.’ Her voice seemed awfully cheerful for so late at night. ‘That’s great. I’m sure I’ll be able to find a ride from Marshall.’

‘Probably.’

She sighed loudly with relief or pleasure.

She folded her arms below her breasts, slouched down in the seat, and smiled at him. ‘This is great,’ she said. ‘It sure feels good to be heading home.’

31

Rolling over, Marty crossed an arm over her face to block the bright sunlight. Then she opened her eyes. When the air touched them, they felt raw and burning. She saw that she was stretched out along the edge of a forest.

For a while, she didn’t remember. Then it all came back. She moaned as it poured into her like a foul liquid, burning and nauseating.

Suddenly, she sat up. She could see the road.

The road, but no car.

Willy was gone!

The quick movement did it. She twisted sideways and threw up. When the convulsions stopped, she crawled away from the mess.

She heard a car coming. Afraid Willy might be returning, she flattened herself on the ground. After it was gone, she got slowly to her feet. She leaned against the trunk of a birch tree and felt blood begin to trickle down her back.

The forest seemed safer than the road, so she walked into it. Walking hurt badly. Her head was the worst part. It jolted with each step and throbbed madly every time she bent to pass beneath a low limb.

At last, she came to a sunny clearing. Maybe the same clearing as last night. She couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter, though. The clearing was bright and well hidden. She only cared about that.

Lying face down on the tall grass, she found it softer than she hoped. It didn’t even feel scratchy on her bare arms and legs. It simply matted down under her, soft and dry, as if it had been put there especially to serve as her bed.

She lay with her eyes shut, half awake, half dreaming, and at first she thought that the quietly approaching footsteps were part of her dream. Then she opened her eyes and saw a pair of moccasins.

32

Willy stretched and groaned with lazy pleasure. The sun felt so hot and good. If it weren’t for his bastard of a headache, life would be perfect.

The bitch had really given him a wallop with that gun.

He grinned. He’d really given her a wallop, too. With a different kind of gun.

He opened his eyes, lifted his head and looked down his sweaty body at it. Wouldn’t do at all if it got sunburned. Especially not now, with so much good stuff ahead.

Speaking of which…

He got off the blanket and walked to his shack. ‘Here I am, sweetums. William the Conqueror.’ He posed in the doorway flexing his muscles.

The girl in the shadows shut her eyes. She lay curled on her side on the mattress, naked, her arms handcuffed behind her back.

Reaching high, Willy plucked a key down from the top of the doorframe. ‘Have you been a good girl?’ he asked, walking toward her.

‘Yes,’ she muttered.

‘Do you want William to let you go?’

Her eyes opened and she nodded.

Willy leaned over her with the key, opened the left cuff, then the right. His fingers came away bloody. He wiped them on the white skin of the girl’s buttocks.

‘Now put on your beautiful dress,’ he told her.

She sat up and brought her arms slowly in front of her. She frowned at her raw, bloody wrists.

‘Oh, did I have the cuffs too tight?’ Willy asked.

‘Where are we going?’ the girl asked.

‘It’s a surprise.’

She tried to pick up her shining, paisley dress, but her hands wouldn’t work. The dress fell. Willy picked it up. She raised her arms, and he put it over them. It drifted down her body.

Willy helped her to stand. Then he fastened every button on the dress.

‘Let’s go outside,’ he said.

As she stepped out the doorway, she raised an arm to shade her face from the noon sun.

‘Bright, huh?’

She said nothing.

Willy picked up his handcuffs and rope, then followed her outside. ‘Go over to that dead tree,’ he told her.

She looked around at him. She glanced at the rope and cuffs in his hand. Then she looked toward the woods that began several yards to the left of the white, barkless poplar.

‘Don’t try to run,’ he said. ‘I’ll just chase you down, and then I’ll really have some fun with you.’

She walked to the dead tree.

‘That’s right. Good girl. Now put out your hands. That's a good girl.’

Her eyes stayed on his eyes, making him a little nervous as he handcuffed her wrists. He knotted the rope to the chain between the bracelets, then flung the coil over a high, thick branch of the poplar. It dropped on the other side. He took the end and began to pull, raising the girl’s arms.

‘I haven’t given you any trouble,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve done everything you asked, no matter how… no matter what it was. Why do you have to hurt me?’

"Cause I like it.’ He tied the rope to the trunk of the dead tree. ‘See how nice I am? I’m leaving you on your feet. Or would you rather sort of dangle?’

She shook her head.

‘Now guess what I’m going to do,’ he said.

Staring into his eyes, she said, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Come on, guess.’ His hands roamed the shiny, slick cloth. It was already hot from the sun. He felt her body through it.

The girl gritted her teeth.

‘Gonna rip the dress off you,’ Willy said.

‘No, don’t. Please. It was a present. Don’t wreck it.’

He slapped her face.

Then, growling like a dog, sometimes biting the skin underneath, he slowly shredded the dress with his teeth. The girl cried as he ripped. When she finally was naked, he took her from behind with quick hard thrusts that rammed her up off her feet.

Later, he left her hanging in the sun.

He rested in a shaded place near the car and enjoyed the view.

33

When Marty opened her eyes, there was no longer a headache behind them. The curtains rustled with a mild breeze. Light slanted down through the window, laying a slab of gold on the floor. A clock by the bed showed 3:15.

Sitting up, she looked in front of her. A dresser, a closet. Heavy hiking boots stood on the closet floor next to a pair of sneakers. On hangers, she saw a plaid lumberjack coat among many shirts, a dark suit, a colorful sport coat and a white terry-cloth bathrobe.

She got up. The mirror above the dresser threw back her reflection, stunning her. She hardly looked like herself. Her face was swollen and discolored. Her hair was a wild tangle.

Well, her right profile didn’t look too bad. Willy had only struck the left side of her face.

Why did he leave me?

She didn’t want to think about it.

She opened the bedroom door. The living room was darker and cooler than the bedroom. ‘Jack?’ she called softly. No answer came. ‘Jack?’ Nothing. She walked across the rug, then out the front door. He wasn’t on the porch.

He was gone?

Back inside the cabin, she shut the door and locked it. Then she ran to the kitchen and locked the back door. She peaked inside a utility closet. She checked the bathroom. A closet in the living room. Behind all the furniture.

Not looking for Jack anymore.

Searching for Willy.

Shaking and chilled, she shut herself into the bedroom.

‘You’re a fine specimen,’ she told the face in the mirror.

The normal side of her face smiled nervously; the swollen side hardly moved.

Turning around, she stared over her shoulder at the mirror’s image of her back. The knit jersey was torn in a few places midway down. It was stiff and brown near the rips.

She took it off.

The large, square bandage - applied by Jack after carrying her to his cabin - was white except for a tiny dot of blood in its center. All around the bandage, her skin was stained. All the way down to her waist. The shorts had soaked up a lot of blood. She took them off.

Dropping the clothes in a heap, she stepped to the closet. She took down the robe. Its hanger fell, making a tinny ping when it hit the hardwood floor. She crouched to pick it up, being careful to keep her back straight so the cuts wouldn’t pull.

It was then that she saw the dark, glossy stock. She pushed some clothes aside. Propped against a back corner of the closet stood a double-barreled shotgun. Sweeping hangers away, Marty pressed between two clean shirts. They felt cool and fresh on her skin. She hoped that the blood stains on her back were dry.

Her hand closed around the wide, side-by-side barrels. She lifted. The shotgun was heavy. With her arm outstretched, she could barely raise it off the floor. So she dragged it out of the closet.

The shotgun had two triggers. It also had a hammer at the back of each barrel. There was a lever between the hammers. She pressed it sideways with her thumb.

The barrels suddenly dropped, nearly wrenching the weapon from her grip. They hung toward the floor, connected to the stock by a hinge. In each chamber was a round, brass disk with a little nub in the center.

It’s loaded.

Marty rested the barrels against the floor, then lifted the stock until the latch snapped. The shotgun was whole again. She returned it to the closet and straightened the hangers in front of it.

Then she put on the robe. It was far too big. She rolled up its sleeves and tied its cloth belt.

Jack was still gone when she went into the bathroom. She took a long shower. Then she dried herself carefully, surprised by the number of cuts and bruises she discovered.

She put on the robe and tied its belt snugly. There was a comb by the sink. She did the best she could with her hair, and opened the bathroom door.

Jack looked up from a magazine. ‘How you doing?’ he asked.

‘A lot better than a few hours ago.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ He unrolled a leather pouch and started loading tobacco into his pipe.

‘Sure is nice of you to help me.’ She sat on a rocker across from him. ‘Do you mind me borrowing your robe?’

‘Not at all.’

‘My things are a mess.’

‘I noticed.’ He struck a match and sucked its flame down to the surface of the tobacco. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Great.’

Jack tamped down the loose ash in his pipe and lit another match. As he drew the flame into the briar bowl, he looked at Marty and raised his eyebrows. He blew a cloud of smoke.

‘Smells like a cake baking,’ Marty said. ‘A chocolate cake.’

Jack shrugged.

‘Would it be all right if I use your telephone? I’d like to call my parents and let them know I’m okay.’

‘Help yourself.’

‘I’ll call collect.’

‘No need.’

The telephone was on a lamp table at the end of the sofa. Marty stood up and went over to it. She picked up the handset, then tapped in the numbers.

Sitting down on the sofa, she listened to the ringing.

Someone picked up. ‘Hello?’ asked her father. He sounded tense. ‘Hi, Dad.’

‘Marty! My God! Are you all right?’

‘I’m okay.’

‘What in the name of God…?’

‘I was kidnapped.’

‘Kidnapped?’

‘I just got away a little while ago. I’m all right. You and Mom can stop worrying about me.’

‘We’ve been basket cases.’

‘It’s all right now. I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but…’

‘Where are you? Where are you calling from?’

‘A place in the woods. Anyway, I’m fine. I’ve got to get going, now.’

‘Marty…’

‘Give my love to Mom.’

‘Marty, for…’

‘Bye for now, Dad,’ she said, and hung up.

‘Short but sweet,’ she said to Jack, and tried to smile. ‘I just didn’t want to get into it, you know?’ She made a small laugh. ‘Besides, it was long distance and you were paying.’

‘You were actually kidnapped?’ Jack asked, and puffed on his pipe.

‘Yeah.’

‘Guess we’d better make a call to the police.’

‘Could it wait? I’m still… I don’t know. I feel like I need some time, or…’

‘The sooner you get to the police, the sooner they’ll put your kidnappers out of commission.’

‘Kidnapper. Only one.’

‘Don’t you think you should call the police?’

Marty looked into Jack’s eyes. They were gentle, confident, comforting. He seemed like a man who knew things and could handle tough situations. She would be safe with him. ‘How about tomorrow?’ she asked.

‘Fine with me.’

‘Can I stay here till then?’

‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.’

‘Really? As long as I want?’

‘Sure.’ He grinned and puffed his pipe. ‘Long as you behave yourself.’

34

Willy took a red bandanna out of his jeans and wiped the sweat off his face. ‘Hotter than boiled piss,’ he said.

But the shack was just ahead. He would be there in a minute or so. About time! Two hours was too damn long to be tromping through the boonies, especially in this kind of heat.

He was glad he’d done it, though. Now he was sure they were alone. No sign of humanity anywhere nearby. He sure had found himself a great place for a hideout - or Dewey had.

I oughta drop Dewey a card, he though. ‘Hello from your old stomping grounds,’ he said aloud.

The girl, apparently hearing him, lifted her head. She was still standing, arms high, under the tree. And still on her feet to keep her weight off the handcuffs.

‘Hi, sweet stuff. Miss me?’

She squinted at him and said nothing.

‘Looks like you got yourself a little sun,’ Willy said, and laughed.

Where she’d had a tan before, her skin now had a deep, rosy glow. Where her skin had been white, she now appeared to be wearing a bright red bikini.

Willy dragged a fingernail down her breast.

She flinched and made a hissing sound between her teeth.

The scratch from his fingernail looked blue-white for a moment, then went red.

‘Hurt?’Willy asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Tough titty.’ He laughed.

35

‘Are you hungry?' Jack asked. ‘I picked up a couple of steaks in town this afternoon.’

‘Great. I’m starved.’

‘Okay. Why don’t you go on and get dressed, and I’ll start the barbecue?’

Marty felt her skin heat with embarrassment as she thought about the torn, filthy rags on the bedroom floor. ‘Won’t this do?’ she asked, glancing down at the white robe.

‘We don’t know each other well enough,’ he said.

Marty smiled. ‘Oh. I see.’

‘Go change,’ he said.

She went into the bedroom. On the bed lay two green shopping bags. Inside them she found a white blouse, a pale blue skirt, panties and a bra, and a shoe box containing a pair of white sneakers.

All brand new, the tags still on them.

Blushing, she called out, ‘Thank you, Jack! They’re great!’

‘You’re welcome,’ he called from somewhere beyond the shut door.

Marty took off the robe. She hung it in the closet, glimpsing the shotgun’s stock before she turned away. Then she removed the bandage from her back and made a new one. After that, she removed the tags from the clothes. She started to get dressed.

The bra was slightly too large.

‘Wishful thinking,’ she muttered. Laughing quietly, she put it on anyway.

Everything else fit well. Looking at herself in the brand new clothes, she felt clean and fresh and very safe.

The night with Willy seemed far away.

Until she saw her face in the mirror.

That brought it all back. Her stomach twisted. She crouched on the floor, shivering, hugging her belly. Then, like an icy wind, it passed. She hurried outside.

The afternoon sun was hot and calming.

She found Jack behind the cabin, standing at a red brick barbecue.

‘The clothes are wonderful,’ she said.

‘You look great.’

‘If you’re into battered, bruised and ugly.’

He laughed. ‘I must admit, I would be interested in seeing what you look like when you haven’t just been beaten to a pulp.’

‘Consider it done. It’s the least I can do for you.’

36

Willy came out of the shack. He was naked. He held his red bandanna in one hand, his leather belt in the other.

The girl raised her head and opened her eyes.

‘This is gonna hurt, sweetie. But don’t scream too loud, or I’ll have to gag you. You wouldn’t want that. My hanky’s got boogers in it.’

Her dry lips stuck together when she tried to open her mouth. Then they peeled apart. She licked them, and asked in a raspy whisper, ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

‘Because I can?’

He began to swing his belt.

37

When Jack drove her into the town of Wayside that evening, it looked different from the night before. Golden in the lowering sun. Busy, yet peaceful. And crowded. A dozen people stood in line at the movie theater.

‘Would you like to see a show?’ Jack asked.

‘Would you?’

‘Sure.’

Jack parked the car, and they walked to the theater. Inside, they found seats near the front. The lights faded out. And the previews started.

Marty could hardly believe that she was safe and watching a movie.

Only two nights ago, she’d been in a theater with Dan.

She’d spotted Willy…

For the next couple of hours, she stared at the enormous screen but noticed little that was on it. She dwelled on the screen in her mind, the one that played a horrible film about Willy.

In that film, she relived it all.

Again and again.

Marty was pulled out of it when the lights came up. She found that she was squeezing Jack’s hand.

On the way out of town, Jack asked if she would like some ice cream.

‘Sure,’ she said.

They stopped at the Wayside Motor Inn, and each had a hot fudge sundae at its all-night burger joint.

Then they were in the car again, rushing along the dark, twisting road.

‘Gives me the creeps,’ Marty said. She slid across the seat, close to Jack. He put an arm across her shoulders.

‘You don’t need to be afraid.’

‘He’s still out there,’ she said.

‘But he doesn’t have you. Not anymore. And tomorrow we’ll go to the police.’

‘Will you come with me?’

‘Of course.’

‘What if Willy comes for me tonight?’

‘He won’t.’

‘He might already be at your cabin waiting for us.’

Jack’s hand went to the back of her neck. Gently and firmly, he rubbed her there. ‘He won’t get you. Not tonight. Not while I’m around.’

38

‘You look good in stripes. Anyone ever tell you that?’ Laughing, Willy scraped the bottom of his chili can. Then he licked the spoon. ‘That was funny. Why aren’t you laughing?’

The girl, sitting on the mattress with her legs crossed, said nothing. She gazed sullenly down at the can of chili in her hand. ‘By the way, sweetie, what’s your name?’

She scooped a spoonful of chili into her mouth.

A flashlight lay on the table beside the big, battery powered lantern that lit the center of the room. Willy picked it up, turned it on, and threw its beam in her face.

She shut her puffy eyelids.

‘What’s your name?’ Willy repeated. And then he remembered a game he used to play when he was a kid. He put down the flashlight. He went to the bed and knelt on it, facing the girl. She smelled like sweat and sex. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘what’s your name?’

‘Tina,’ she said.

‘You lie!’ he blurted, and smacked her hard in the face with his open hand. The blow turned her head sideways. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked again.

She looked at him. She pressed her lips tightly together. They were cracked and bleeding. She said, ‘My name’s Tina.’

‘You lie!’ he yelled, and smacked the other side of her face. ‘What’s your name?’

She glared at him. She said nothing.

‘YOU LIE!’ He swung. His hand clapped her cheek so hard his fingers tingled and blood flew off her lips.

39

‘I’ll be just outside the door if you need me,’ Jack said from the bedroom doorway.

‘I need you,’ Marty said.

He grinned. ‘Maybe some other time. Goodnight.’ He shut the door as he left.

Marty turned off the bedroom light and stood in the darkness. She thought about going out to Jack. But she didn’t want to seem pushy.

Some other time.

She took off her clothes and climbed beneath the sheet, wishing he was there beside her, holding her close and warm. His strong arms around her. Caressing her. Not doing anything funny, just being gentle and safe…

She woke up with a start.

Her heart was slamming. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead with sweat and the bed was soaked beneath her. She lay there motionless, wondering what had shocked her awake.

The room was pale with a creamy glow of moonlight. The door was still shut. Between the door and the dresser fell a shadow. The shadow was too small to conceal a person. But the open closet made a large darkness.

He’s in there.

Ago, he’s not. Don’t be ridiculous.

He is!

The sweat seemed to freeze on Marty’s skin. She pulled her top sheet up tightly under her chin.

The only sound she could hear was her own loud, thudding heart.

She glanced at the nightstand. There was no lamp on it.

Scissors.

After bandaging her back that morning, Jack had put them in a drawer of the nightstand. She’d used them, herself, just before supper.

Now, where’d I put them?

On the dresser.

But the dresser stood beside the open closet.

I’ll never make it. He’ll jump me before…

Nobody’s in the closet!

Willy is.

Marty inched her leg toward the side of the mattress. After a long time, her right heel dropped over the edge. She kept moving her leg sideways, slowly, slowly, until it was off the mattress all the way to her rump. Her foot on the floor, she started sliding her left leg over.

Eyes on the dark, open closet.

He’s watching. If he starts coming, run for it.

At last, both her feet were on the floor.

She raised her back so gradually that the bedsprings hardly made a sound. They were nearly silent, too, when she leaned forward and eased her weight off the bed. She stood up straight, staring at the black closet.

Nothing seemed to move in there.

With six slow, careful steps, she reached the dresser. Her hand patted the top of it.

And found the scissors.

Picked them up. Clenched them tight.

With the tightness of a scream growing in her chest, she sidestepped to the closet. Raising the scissors high, she lurched into the darkness. She drove them down, hard and silent.

Pain seared her thigh.

She tried to stifle her yelp of hurt surprise.

Waving her other hand in the air, she caught the dangling string and pulled. The closet light came on.

Nobody there.

Nobody except Marty.

Marty, naked and sweaty and shaking. Marty, scissors in her hand. Marty with a ragged red gash ripped across the inner side of her right thigh.

She had a sudden urge to sit down on the closet floor and cry. Sit there and cry till dawn.

Instead, she bandaged her leg.

Then she got dressed, putting on the stiff, filthy shorts and jersey that Willy had stolen from the girl by the lake.

Then she took the shotgun out of the closet.

Sneaking through the dark house, she found Jack asleep on the living room sofa. She set down the shotgun. She found his trousers draped over a nearby chair.

His keys were in the right front pocket. His wallet was in the left rear pocket.

She took out a five-dollar bill and slipped the wallet back into his pocket. She kept the keys.

She was tempted to kiss him before leaving.

But she didn’t dare.

He might wake up and not let her go.

40

Thrusting and shuddering, Willy erupted inside Tina. Then he relaxed on top of her.

Somewhere along the line, she had fainted.

Just as well. Willy hadn’t liked the way she’d just taken it, never saying a word even when the pain made her twitch and weep.

He pulled out and sat back.

A breeze was blowing through the open door and window, giving him goosebumps. He got up and shut them both. The handcuffs lay open on the table. He picked them up. Then he turned off the lantern and made his way through the darkness. He found the mattress, got to his knees, reached out and touched Tina. Her skin was hot. From its sticky ridges, he knew he was touching her back. He slid his hand down her rump and down the back of her leg to her ankle.

He cuffed her left ankle. After sitting beside her, he attached the other cuff to his own left ankle. The bracelet was almost too small, but he managed to get it on.

Then he unfolded a blanket and lay back, covering himself. He stared at the dark ceiling.

It had been a great day.

Even if the girl wasn’t Marty.

At least Marty got what was coming to her.

He’d scared the shit out of her with the noose.

He’d killed her boyfriend. Twice. He grinned. Not every prick gets to die twice.

He’d fucked her. Got her in the mouth, too - almost.

And he’d shot her dead.

That old hollow-point sure made a mess of her back.

He grinned, remembering how she’d been sprawled out in the moonlight, the blood all over her back.

Too bad he’d had to kill her, though.

He’d wanted Marty here, not Tina.

Not that there’s anything wrong with Tina.

Except she ain’t Marty.

He sighed. Oh, the stuff I would’ve done to her…

41

The attendant at the all-night gas station raised his red, chubby face out of a comic book when Marty stepped up to the window. She smiled at him and slipped a five-dollar bill into the trough under the glass.

‘Pump number two,’ she said.

He took the bill and nodded.

‘Could I ask you something?’ she said.

He shrugged.

Before she could start to ask for directions, he frowned and said, ‘What happened to your face?’

She shrugged. ‘A guy hit me.’

‘Slugged you?’

‘Yeah. A few times.’

‘Sheesh. He really creamed you.’

‘I noticed. I felt it.’

‘What’d he wanta do that for?’

‘He’s just a jerk who likes to hurt people.’

‘Does it hurt a whole lot? Your face?’

‘Some.’

‘Guy must be a real creep.’

‘He is.’

‘Somebody oughta fix his wagon for him.’

‘Somebody plans to. Do you know where Cricket Lake is?’

‘Sure. You going there?’

‘Not exactly. I’m looking for a place close to Cricket, though. It’s a small lake. I don’t know its name, if it even has one.’

‘We got lakes like that all over the place.’

‘This one’s just west of Cricket.’

‘West?’

‘Yeah. It has a dirt road leading to it, and one cabin.’

‘Oh, I bet you mean the Dewey place.’

‘Maybe.’

‘The place that Jason Dewey hid out. A little shack by this lake. Jason Dewey, he hid out there… guess it must’ve been three summers back.’

Marty shrugged her shoulders.

‘You know about Jason Dewey?’

‘No, but..

‘He’s the guy that chopped up that family down Hingston way. You must’ve heard about it. Made all the news. He hacked up the mother and father and all the kids, two or three kids - and the family parrot.’

‘A parrot?’

‘Yeah.’ He grinned. ‘He ate the parrot. Wild, huh? A real nutcase.’

‘He had a hideout somewhere near Cricket Lake?’

‘Sure did.’

‘How do I find it?’

He gave her directions, but explained that she should wait for morning. ‘You ain’t gonna find the turn-off in the dark. But if you wanta wait till morning, I’ll take you out there myself.’

‘I have to go right now.’

He looked disappointed. ‘You sure you can’t wait?’ he asked. ‘Sorry. But I’ve got a wagon to fix. Thanks for the information.’

‘Welcome.’

‘Pump number two,’ she reminded him.

‘Five bucks worth.’

42

Two miles west of Cricket Lake, Marty swung the car onto a meager dirt road and stopped. Turning sideways in her seat, she reached up and removed the plastic cover from the dome light. Then she twisted the bulb loose. She put the cover and bulb into Jack’s glove compartment, then started driving forward.

The road, little more than a couple of wheel ruts, was hard to drive on. It threw the car around as if trying to rip the steering wheel out of her hands. She held on tightly, fighting to keep control.

A rough bump jolted her teeth together and she bit her tongue. Tears blurred her vision. She didn’t dare let go of the wheel, so she tried to blink them away. It didn’t work. Tears still blinded her. So she gripped the wheel as hard as possible with her left hand and used her right to rub her eyes clear.

Just then, the road turned.

The car swerved out of the shallow ruts.

She grabbed the wheel and steered along the overgrown center strip, bushes scraping against the right side of the car until she guided the tires again into their twin paths.

She slowed down and took the road more carefully.

Just take it easy. No big hurry. I’ve got all night.

Just so I get there before morning.

Catch him in his sleep.

If he’s there.

God, I hope he’s there…

43

‘Hey,’Willy heard. Something shoved his shoulder. ‘Hey, wake up.’

‘Huh?’ he asked. ‘What?’

‘I’ve got to go,' Tina said.

‘What?’

‘I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.’

‘Shit.You gotta go now?'

‘I can’t help it.’

‘Shit,’ he said again. Then he said, ‘Okay, so I guess we gotta get up. We’re cuffed together, case you didn’t notice.’

‘I noticed.’

Slowly, awkwardly, they both stood up in the darkness. Willy got behind Tina and steered her to the table. There, he turned on the lantern. ‘Okay, now we go outside.’

‘Together?’

‘If you think I’m gonna take off the cuffs at this hour, you’re outa your fucking mind. Let’s go.’

As they walked in tandem toward the door, Willy saw their reflection in the window. It was the brand new window that he’d installed just before taking off to get Marty. ‘Hold it,’ he said, and grabbed her shoulders. ‘Get a load of the lovebirds. Almost as good as a mirror,’ he said.

‘Can we go?' Tina asked.

‘When I say so.’

In the reflection, he watched his hands vanish behind her shoulders. They reappeared under her arms, then covered her breasts. Her breasts felt hot and slippery. He watched himself squeeze them, watched his fingers pinch her stiff nipples.

She squirmed and made odd little noises in her throat, but didn’t protest.

He’d grown hard. He rubbed himself against her back.

In the reflection, he saw one of his hands glide down her belly. It continued downward and went too low to be seen in the window.

He felt her moist curls.

Then his fingertips spread her and slid in.

He saw her smile in the glass.

‘Feels good, huh?’ he asked.

‘This does,' Tina said.

The portrait shattered. Jagged shards exploded into the night outside. Others dropped from above. They plunged down like broken slabs of ice, stabbing and slicing her outstretched arm.

Willy jerked her away from the broken window.

‘You bitch!’ he yelled as they both stumbled backward, cuffed at the ankles. ‘You stupid bitch! You busted my fuckin’ window!’

When they fell, Tina landed on top of him. She squirmed and thrashed. Her back and buttocks were hot and slippery. Willy liked how they felt, sliding against his skin.

He didn’t know that she was clutching a spike of broken glass until she started to use it on him.

44

After what seemed like more than an hour of slow driving through the woods, Marty rumbled down a slope and spotted a rock, pale in the moonlight, resting in the strip between the ruts.

She jammed on the brakes.

Not quick enough.

The rock scraped and thundered against the car’s undercarriage.

When the noise stopped, she wiped the sweat out of her eyes. She eased her foot onto the gas pedal. The car started slowly forward.

Then she saw it.

Ten feet ahead, shining in a stray slant of moonlight, was the rear window of another car.

Willy’s car. The one he’d taken after killing the two men on the roadside last night.

Marty hit the brakes and turned off the engine. She opened her door, glad she’d taken care of the ceiling light.

She climbed out and dragged the shotgun after her. Propping its stock on the ground, she crouched behind her open door. She cocked both hammers.

Looking over the top of the door, she could only see the back of Willy’s car. She gazed at its trunk. Beneath the dark curving metal, Dan lay dead.

Unless Willy’d moved him.

Dan.

She turned her eyes away from the trunk.

To each side of Willy’s car, she could see woods. But not much else, not from her crouched position behind the door. She didn’t want to stand up. She liked it fine behind the solid, protective door. But there was no choice.

Slowly, she stood up straight.

She gazed into the darkness, half expecting a gunshot to crack the silence.

No, she thought. He won’t shoot me.

He had shot at her before, but only to stop her from escaping. This time, she wasn’t trying to escape; she was coming to him. He would want her alive.

Hefting the shotgun, she rushed, crouching, to the front of his car. There, she knelt down by the tire. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she raised her head and looked up the road.

The shack, less than fifty yards away, was probably no bigger than her bedroom at home. The walls looked like pale, weathered wood. From where she crouched, she could see a door and a window. The window was lit by a dim, hazy glow. As if a flashlight might be on inside the shack.

She shivered and felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

Is he up? she wondered. At this hour?

Up or not, this is it.

‘Here I come, Willy,’ she whispered. ‘Ready or not.’

And she was up and running, shotgun heavy in her hands, pine needles crunching under her shoes, running, fingertip sliding through the trigger guard, running, stopping at the shack’s wall, thrusting the barrels in through the broken window…

45

Willy, standing naked only a few feet away, grinned at her. He was bloody from head to toe. His arms were high as if he might be hoping to surrender.

Before he had a chance to say anything - before he had a chance to dive for cover - Marty fired.

With a harsh roar, the shotgun spat flame and jumped in her hands and slammed back against her shoulder.

The blast caught Willy in the middle of the chest. It hit him like a hard wind, lifting him off his feet, hurling him backward.

But he didn’t go down.

In the light of a battery lantern on the nearby table, Marty saw him, still grinning, start to glide back toward her.

A deathless thing, still up and coming.

She glimpsed shiny, broken rib bones in the pulpy clutter of his chest.

She let out a scream that scorched her throat.

And she thought, Go for the head!

She aimed for Willy’s face as he came gliding toward her.

It was only then that she noticed the shiny blades of glass jutting out of his eyes. And the wide wedge of glass jammed into his mouth, giving him such a big, strange grin. And the slash across his throat.

She held fire.

A ceiling beam creaked, and Willy began to glide backward again.

Marty suddenly realized that he was suspended by his wrists.

He swung back and forth below the rope like a mutilated Tarzan.

Lowering her gaze, Marty saw that his genitals were gone.

So was his left foot.

When she was done throwing up, Marty entered the shack and looked around. She tried not to look at Willy.

Nobody else seemed to be there.

She found lots of blood, especially on the floor near Willy’s dangling body. And on the wall and floor near the broken front window. And on the mattress.

There was a lot of semen on the mattress, too.

He must’ve brought someone here. Grabbed some other poor girl after I got away…

Someone tougher than he counted on.

Tough enough to take him out.

‘Hello?’ she called.

No answer came.

‘Anybody here?’

Still, no answer.

‘Whoever you are… if you can hear me, thanks. I came here to kill the bastard, but you beat me to it.’ Marty suddenly found herself smiling. ‘You did a good job on him! You did a great job!’

After a few moments, she called, ‘Do you need a ride out of here? Or help? Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention? Hello? I’ll do anything I can for you!’

Nothing.

She spent a while longer looking around - hoping Willy’s tough victim - his killer - might return.

She searched the entire shack.

As she walked out with the shotgun slung over her shoulder, she wondered what had become of the person.

She also wondered what had become of Willy’s left foot and his genitals.

She climbed into the car, turned it around, and headed back for Jack’s place.

46

The next morning, Tina walked out of the woods and onto the road.

She was barefoot.

She was clean from soaking in the lake last night. The lake water had sure felt good on her sunburn and on a lot of places where Willy had hurt her. She supposed she might’ve stayed in it all night, but her hands and arms kept on bleeding.

So then she’d waded out and hunted around until she found the remains of her paisley dress under the tree where Willy had torn it off her. Willy had ruined it, shredding it with his teeth like that.

But the shreds had turned out to make very fine bandages. She’d bound the cuts on her arms and hands with bright, shiny rags.

She’d tied a piece around her left ankle, like a broad bandage, to conceal the handcuffs there.

And she’d made herself a bikini top by knotting a few pieces together.

After sunrise, she’d returned to the shack. Willy was antsy, and he stank. She’d gotten out as fast as she could.

Outside, she’d used Willy’s pocket knife to take the legs off his jeans and make herself a pair of cut-offs to wear. She’d put on the shorts, then dropped the knife into her pocket.

The knife had come in mighty handy in the shack last night. Without it, she’d still be cuffed to Willy.

She planned to keep the knife forever.

And keep it always ready, just in case.

Now, walking alongside the road, she heard the sound of an engine. Turning around, she watched a bright blue pickup truck come around a bend.

She put out her arm to hitch a ride.

It was no surprise when the pickup stopped for her. No surprise at all. Not the way she was dressed.

She bent toward the passenger window.

The driver, a nice-looking young man, smiled at her. He wore a T-shirt and tan shorts. His smile looked friendly. ‘Can I give you a lift?’ he asked, and glanced at her flimsy, makeshift bikini top.

‘You aren’t some kind of pervert or fiend, are you?’

He suddenly blushed. ‘Me? Nope.’

‘Better not be,' Tina said. ‘I’d hate to have to kill you.’

‘You and me both,’ he said, and laughed a little.

Smiling, she climbed in.

‘Where to?’ he asked.

‘Home,’ she said.