by Bryan Smith
“I don’t know.”
Julie sat up and scooted away from him. She picked up the remote and started clicking through the channels again. “There’s got to be something else decent on. I wonder if these scrambled channels are porn. You know what I like? All girl. I’m not a lez or anything, but the guys in pornos are always so gross. The girls always have those fake tans and tits and tattoos, but they look hot anyway. I went through a phase for, like, a week of wanting to be a porn star. That would have killed my parents, which would be the main reason to do it, you know?”
Zeb smacked the remote out of her hand. “Enough of this shit.”
Julie cringed away from him, whole body tensing as she awaited the long-delayed assault she was sure was imminent. “What the fuck, Zeb?”
He smiled again, but this time there was a definite leer in it. “It’s high time you proved yourself, bitch. No more fucking around. You’re gonna kill a man before the night’s done. And if you don’t do it, that’s it for your ass, girl. Not even Lulu will—”
“Okay, I get it. Jesus.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to go on and on. I have to kill a dude. Fine. Let’s do it.”
The conviction in her voice surprised Zeb. His brow creased as he squinted at her. The overall impression was of a man bearing witness to something utterly inexplicable. A Bigfoot or flying-saucer sighting, maybe. He scratched the back of his head, his fingers sliding smoothly through the now much shorter locks. “I…really?”
She gave a single terse but emphatic nod. “Yes.”
And she meant it. She didn’t really want to kill anybody. But she didn’t want to die, either. And there was just no other way around this. She couldn’t manufacture any more delays or lame excuses.
The time to kill was at hand.
So let’s get it the fuck over with.
“So how do we do this, Zeb?”
He grunted. “What do you mean? You stick a knife in the cocksucker. Or hit him over the head with something heavy.” He shrugged expansively, making the muscles in his broad shoulders and neck ripple. “Don’t really matter, so long as your victim gets dead.”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean…” She swept a hand around her. “Do we do it here? Or—”
“Not here.”
“Okay. Where?”
“Someplace nice and private. Out in the woods is best.”
“I want to use your knife. That big one.”
A corner of his mouth curled up. “I like that knife.” His nostrils flared and he did that weird chest-rubbing thing of his. “Wanna see you stick it in somebody.”
Oh fuck, he’s getting turned on by the idea. Fucking gross.
Julie covered a shiver by rolling off the bed and springing to her feet. “So let’s make this happen. Fucking tired of hanging out here anyway.”
Zeb opened his duffel bag and removed one of the several shirts he’d pinched from John’s wardrobe. He pulled it on and grabbed the keys from the table. He was grinning as he took Julie by the arm and steered her out of the room.
Julie was somewhat less thrilled than Zeb.
But she was committed.
Tonight everything would change forever. No matter what happened after tonight, she would never be the same. And it wouldn’t matter if she eventually escaped from Zeb. Tonight, she thought, I become a cold-blooded murderer.
A chill evening’s wind touched her face.
It felt like the loving caress of Satan himself, welcoming a new acolyte to the fold.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
March 23
After rounding everyone up, they hit the road again shortly after nine a.m., which was remarkable, given how little sleep most of them had managed during the night. Most of the credit for the amazing feat went to Chuck. He had gone into taskmaster mode after explaining his reasons for not calling the cops. Zoe retained some skepticism about that, but Chuck had been so adamant, and so earnest, that there had never been any real question of defying his wishes.
Besides…
I want to get to the fucking beach.
Okay, being honest, there had been an element of selfishness to her quick surrender. She hated knowing that the people who’d jumped Chuck were going to get away with it, but it was a price worth paying in order to be on their way free of any big hassle. Maybe she’d have felt different had Chuck suffered any kind of permanent damage, but he was alive and physically intact. The bruises and scratches would heal. Besides, she’d heard or read somewhere that most random robberies like that were never solved. Probably no one would ever be apprehended after the whole big ordeal with the cops, which would make the whole thing even more of a waste. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was as good a rationale for not doing it as any.
So here they were…
Chuck was at the wheel again, but Joe wasn’t riding shotgun this time. Zoe occupied that position now, and Joe was slumped next to Emily in the middle seat. His head was on her shoulder and he was snoring lightly. Zoe glanced at the rearview mirror and quickly directed her gaze back out the window on her side. Emily was still glaring at her. She was pissed at the way Zoe had snubbed her this morning. Zoe had stayed away from her when possible and ignored her repeated attempts at initiating conversation.
Surely on some level Emily must have expected this. The things they’d done together during the night had been fun at the time, but in the light of day the memories were embarrassing. Zoe was no prude. She enjoyed a bit of kink in the bedroom. But what she had done with Emily and Joe was more than that. It hadn’t been any garden-variety threesome. She felt like a slut and a pervert, and she just couldn’t deal with it right now, especially now that her dormant feelings for Chuck seemed to be stirring back to life. Which was confusing as all hell. It was tempting to write it off as a product of the guilt. But there was more to it than that. Maybe something potentially lasting, and maybe not. Either way, for now at least, she and Chuck were back on.
She saw the faint reflection of herself in the window. A small, private smile curved the corners of her mouth. She was thinking of those moments in the bathroom after Annalisa departed, of how that concerned hug had shifted into something more passionate. She tugged at her shirt collar, feeling a little hot at the memory of Chuck penetrating her from behind as she braced her hands on the edge of the sink and watched him do her in the mirror.
She glanced at him and smiled.
“Zoe.”
Shit.
Zoe sighed and looked out the window again.
“Zoe.”
“What?”
“This cold-shoulder bullshit is fucking annoying. What’s your damage?”
Zoe shrugged and shook her head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you don’t.”
Chuck shot her a puzzled glance.
Zoe shook her head again and rolled her eyes.
She turned in her seat and looked over her shoulder at Emily. “Look, stop the drama-queen crap. I’m just tired. Okay?” She forced a brittle smile for her friend. “Long night and not much sleep.” She summoned an exaggerated yawn and groaned. “Christ, you should be as tired as me.”
“I am wide fucking awake.”
Zoe yawned again and this time there was nothing fake about it. She really was tired. And her head was hurting, an ache arguing with Emily wasn’t helping any. She just wanted things to be quiet for a while. Was that too much to ask?
“Fuck you, Zoe.”
Zoe flinched. “What?”
Emily was smiling now. “You heard me.”
Annalisa sighed in the back. “Guys…come on…we’re almost there.”
Emily’s tight smile remained in place. “Hey, I’m just kidding around. I’m just so fucking tired. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m not in my right mind and shit.”
Zoe didn’t bother with a comeback to that. The situation was delicate enough. It was time for some damage control. “Emily, I’m sorry. I seriously am. It’s been a weird and fucked-up morn
ing, I think you’ll agree, but I shouldn’t have been such a bitch to you. Can you please forgive me?”
Emily stared at her a moment later, then looked away. “Whatever.”
Zoe was satisfied. She wasn’t exactly accepting the apology, but the edge had gone out of her voice. She was letting it go for now and that was good enough.
She turned away from Emily, scrunched down in her seat, and propped her bare feet on the dashboard. A while later a green road sign caught her eye: myrtle beach 51 miles.
Almost there…
Feeling a lightening of spirit, she closed her eyes and started to drift toward sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
March 23
Rob sat slumped in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the passing scenery without really seeing it. They had been driving in silence on the interstate more than an hour. He could tell Roxie wanted to talk, but he hoped she’d keep her mouth shut a while longer. He was more afraid of her than ever and wouldn’t know what to say. About anything. The incident in the woods had changed things between them. He sort of felt like he was coming back to his senses a little bit, but it was a classic case of a mixed blessing. He was seeing things more clearly, including how much of a fool he’d been. It’d been stupid in the extreme to let her manipulate him into sex. It’d complicated his feelings and made him vulnerable to being exploited even more, which had probably been her intent all along.
And he’d fallen for it.
Fucking idiot.
“Hey, asshole.”
Rob winced. “What?”
“So you’re admitting you’re an asshole?”
“Yeah.”
She laughed. “At least you admit it. It’s okay. I’m an asshole, too.”
“I know.”
“I’m also a bitch and a right fucking cunt a lot of the time.”
“Yeah.”
She slugged him in the shoulder. Hard.
He looked at her, a frown on his face. “That hurt.”
“Good.”
Rob sat up straighter in his seat and turned toward her. “Good?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head. “Last night you said you liked me.”
She smiled. “What about it?”
“Did you mean it?”
She glanced at him, her expression carefully blank. “Yeah.”
“Okay. So…if you mean that, if you’re not lying…why do you want to hurt me? If you fucking like me, Roxie, why would you for fuck’s sake point a fucking gun at me and make me think you’re about to kill me?”
She snorted laughter.
“It’s not fucking funny.”
She laughed some more and shook her head. “You should just see the expression on your face. So serious.”
He glared at her. “Excuse the fuck out of me, but I think having a gun pointed at me is pretty goddamn serious. Maybe I’m just weird.”
“You’re definitely weird.”
“Maybe. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
It was a strange thing. He’d spent much of the afternoon dreading and avoiding this conversation, but now that it had started he wanted answers. Direct, honest answers.
She looked at him. “I like to fuck with people.”
“So that’s what you were doing? Fucking with me?”
A small nod. “Yeah.”
“Lovely. Nice.”
“Stop being such a sensitive bitch.”
Rob didn’t reply to that.
She was still staring at him. “Admit it.”
He frowned. “Huh? Admit what?”
“You’d like to fuck me right now.”
Rob’s expression then was meant to be withering, an “I can’t believe you even went there, you fucking lunatic” look. An equally scathing and sarcastic comment should have accompanied it. But some primitive, below-the-surface part of him appraised her body even as he seethed with indignation. His eyes traced her curves and the swell of her breasts against that tight black T-shirt. He looked at that bright shade of lipstick and licked his lips. God, he wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to…
Shit.
She laughed. “You know what I’d like?”
He swallowed thickly. “What?”
“I’d like you to stick that gun in my pussy. Fully loaded. And fuck me with it.”
“Jesus. You’re crazy.”
She smirked. “You’re just figuring that out?”
“Jesus. Look. Seriously. I’m not sticking a gun…there.” He shuddered visibly. “No. Just…no.”
“Prude.”
“If refusing to stick a firearm in your private parts makes me a prude, so be it. I can’t get over how totally fucking insane you are. I mean…what kind of person thinks of things like that? There aren’t words for how totally messed up you are.”
Roxie’s expression turned oddly thoughtful. “For me, sex and violence are closely related things, Rob. Think about it. Sex itself is a pretty aggressive, violent act. All that struggling and exertion. All that sweat and physicality. One person dominating the other a lot of the time. Most people don’t let themselves see it that way. They wrap it up with all these phony ideas about romance and call it ‘making love.’ Pure bullshit. Sex is a brute thing. It’s about asserting yourself and controlling the other person. It’s about subjugation. And violence.”
Rob scratched his head and squinted at her. “I don’t know. Have you ever really been in love with someone, Roxie? Because I can tell you that sex with someone you really care about is more than what you’re saying. It’s…deeper.”
Roxie made a dismissive sound. “Right. Whatever. I read about a woman on death row in Texas a while back. Maybe you’ll remember this. She and some other people killed some people. She used a hatchet on one of them. She said she had an orgasm every time she swung the hatchet into the victim.”
“Christ.”
Roxie was smirking again. “That’s what I’m talking about, see? Sex and violence, they’re flip sides of the same coin. You can’t have one without the other. That woman later repented and found God, the way they all do before they fry, but I guarantee she was never being more honest than when she said that thing about the hatchet.”
“Is that what it’s like for you, Roxie?” Rob couldn’t bring himself to look at her as he asked this, fearing what he’d see in her expression. “Do you get off when you shoot people?”
“Not all the time. Not when things are happening too fast, which is how it usually goes down, right? But back there in the woods…a situation like that? Yeah. I got very excited when I was playing that little game.”
Rob closed his eyes. “Jesus. God…”
She reached out and squeezed his knee, making his eyes snap open. “Hell, I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’m horny as shit.” She laughed. “Shit, why do you think we’re talking about this?”
He stared at her hand on his knee. He wanted to push it away, but he didn’t want to upset her. She squeezed again, the fingers pressing more firmly into the denim-covered flesh. He looked at her. Her expression was serious and focused, her eyes blazing with seductive intensity. And as disturbed as he was by the turn of the conversation, a part of him shared that desire.
He coughed. “Um…”
Her hand slid away from his knee and moved higher up his thigh. “Next exit. We’ll pull off and find a place. Okay?”
He nodded weakly. “Yeah…okay.”
“This’ll just be a quickie. But I have something special in mind for later tonight, after we stop for the day. Okay?”
Her hand moved up and down his thigh, stirring him to full arousal. He could barely concentrate now. He forced himself to shift his gaze from her caressing hand to her face. “What…do you have in mind?”
She smiled. “I want to tie you up. Do some things to you. Maybe make you come around to my way of thinking on some things. That feel good?”
He groaned. “Yeah. Jesus. Fuck, Roxie.”
Rob felt helpless. And stupid. A few minutes ago he had been thinking how dumb it had been to let her manipulate him with sex. And here he was, letting it happen again. The truth was, he was powerless against her. Resistance was impossible, compliance a given. She began to really work at him, squeezing and stroking harder and harder. He groaned some more and writhed in the seat.
“You’re about to go off.”
Rob whimpered.
She let go of him and laughed. “You okay, Rob? You look sort of…frustrated.”
He leaned back in his seat and listened to his racing heart. He shivered. “Jesus…”
She giggled. “You’re addicted to me already. I’m your heroin. Admit it.”
“There’s a song about that.”
“What song?”
“It’s called ‘She’s Like Heroin To Me.’ It’s by the Gun Club.”
“I know that name. Haven’t heard them, though. Is it good?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. What other music do you like?”
Rob shrugged and shook his head to clear it. He didn’t want to talk about music. He only wanted to feel her hand sliding up and down his leg again. “Um…rock. You know…hard rock. Metal. Punk. Psychobilly.”
“Psychobilly? Like the Cramps?”
“Yeah.”
“I love them. And Twathammer. Are you into horror?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
She smiled. “Me, too. Like, massively. You see, Rob? This shit was meant to be. You and I are so compatible it fucking hurts, man.”
Rob didn’t say anything at first. A lot about Roxie repelled and sickened him. She was a bad person. She did very bad things. But in truth, he did feel very in tune with her in some ways. “We sort of are, I guess,” he said at last. “But I’m never sure whether you’re telling me something you really believe or just fucking with my head again.”
“That’s part of the fun, Rob.”
“No. It really isn’t, Roxie.”
Her eyes went wide and she sat up straighter behind the wheel. “Ooh! Let’s pick up the hitchhiker!”
“What?”
