Fiends. Part 14

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.'

*d.a.m.n near got us killed, f.u.c.kin' drug fiends.'

*Let's fix 'em.'

*f.u.c.kers d.a.m.n 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 w.i.l.l.y'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 p.e.n.i.s.

*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 m.u.f.fled sobs, Roger put a hand on her back.

26.

Marty didn't know, until she woke up, that she had pa.s.sed out after the shooting.

Even before opening her eyes, she knew that she was not in w.i.l.l.y's car. This car's engine was quiet. Its air was cool. Too cool. She put a hand on her thigh and felt gooseb.u.mps. 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 w.i.l.l.y. She reached for it. w.i.l.l.y'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.

w.i.l.l.y laughed.

Marty said nothing. She sat motionless, arms folded across her chest, and wondered if w.i.l.l.y had raped her while she'd been pa.s.sed out.

No, she didn't think so.

*Real cla.s.s, huh?' he asked.

*What?'

*The car. Real cla.s.s. Air-conditioning, the works.'

*How long was I out?'

*Who knows? I didn't time you. Did you see the way I capped those motherf.u.c.kers?'

*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 f.u.c.ked.'

*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.'

w.i.l.l.y 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.'