by Greg Barth
Faranacci sighed. “Where’d the body go?”
“Animals, man.”
“Animals? Animals ate every piece of her and left no trace? No bone, no hair, no—I don’t know—no kneecap bones? Nothing? They ate up every bit of her but left the old man alone? How do you account for that?”
“I...I don’t know. You make a good point.”
Faranacci nodded. “Yeah. A good point. Let me make another. You fucked this up. You did not finish the job. You got paid, but you owe me a fucking debt. You are one major fuckup in my book right now.”
Ragus looked over at Malucci. He sat on the floor catching his breath.
“Let me show you something,” Faranacci said. He gestured to the bar. “You see that shotgun over there?”
Ragus saw. He knew where this was going.
“You know where that came from, dumb fuck?”
Ragus didn’t respond.
“Frankie White. He cleaned up the mess you left. He brought me that gun. He knows the score on this one. He says he’s going to bring me that girl too.”
“Look, Joey. If by some miracle of god, that girl resuscitated somehow and got moving around...I mean, even still, we were twenty miles in the mountains. You know the exact spot. There’s no way she’s going to come walking out of there.”
Faranacci sighed. “Miracle of god, huh? I see where this is going here. You killed her, but you know she’s alive. You know it. But she was resurrected. I’m being unreasonable here because there was divine intervention. I expected her dead. You’re fine with her being alive as long as she can’t get out of the woods. And who can stop a miracle anyway? Biblically she could have laid there for three days, right? Yeah, I see where this is going.”
“You’ll never see her again,” Ragus said.
“Unreasonable. I’m being fucking unreasonable. I mean, it’s a miracle and all,” Faranacci said. He turned away.
“Are we done?” Ragus said.
Faranacci spun in a flash. Ragus didn’t see it coming—Faranacci’s fist was a blur. The haymaker caught Ragus on his bandaged cheek. His vision exploded in a swirl of black dots and he fell to the floor. His face burned from where the punch had ripped the stitches from his skin.
Ragus lay on his back looking up. Faranacci loomed over him. He was screaming down at Ragus, spit falling on his face like warm rain.
“Done? Are we done? No! We are not fucking done. You get that bitch! You get that bitch! You get that bitch! You fucking hear me you stupid piece of shit, inept, half-assed, dumbfuck? YOU GET THAT BITCH! You bring her to me alive.
“I’ve got something in store for her. It involves that soundproof room with the drain on the floor I got back here.
“If you don’t bring her, then I’ve got something for the both of you guys in the same goddamned room.
“Now get the fuck out!”
THIRTEEN
SELENA
The days grew short. The morning walks to the privy were cold. I started taking my baths indoors. Todd was a decent cook. He mostly prepared stew from gamey meat and root vegetables. The fireplaces and wood-burning stove kept the cabin warm enough.
I was able to get out of bed a little more with each passing day. He started leaving my wounds undressed. There was little drainage and the bandages were no longer necessary. My hair started to grow back around my scalp wound. I was pleased that Todd had not shaved my entire head, but I would look funny for a while yet.
I developed an interest in the novels on the bookshelf in the living room. Most were slim westerns by Louis L’Amour, Max Brand, and Zane Grey. There were a couple by Elmore Leonard that were great. I read one after the other. Todd also had a couple of volumes of Hemingway’s fishing stories that I read. Those reminded me of home in eastern Kentucky and nights on the riverbank with my friend Jennifer and her boyfriend J.P.
Todd spent hours each day splitting firewood and hunting for game to store up enough meat for winter.
One day I asked Todd if he had any bourbon. He shook his head. “Got something close though.” He left the room and came back with a jar full of clear liquid.
“Moonshine?” I said.
“Try a sip.”
I sipped carefully and swallowed. My eyes closed and my face scrunched up. “Oh god,” I said in a husky whisper.
“Don’t like it?”
“It’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Sorry,” he said and took the jar back. He started to leave the room.
“Hey,” I said. “Where are you going with that?”
“I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I said it tasted horrible. I didn’t say I wouldn’t drink it. Bring that shit back.”
Since the cabin had no electricity, we turned in each night when it got dark. He had the oil lamps, but it wasn’t smart to waste the oil. There was some light from the open fireplace, but it seemed more natural to just go to sleep when it got dark.
Most evenings Todd would roll a couple of joints and we’d sit back and get baked. His homegrown was decent. I’d had much better, but he had sufficient supply. What was lacking in intensity, we made up with quantity.
I learned little about Todd. He wasn’t shy, but he was reserved. He had gone through some type of breakdown after the war. I thought maybe it was PTSD, but even he didn’t have a label for it. He didn’t seek treatment. He took to the trails and the mountains, and those seemed to heal him. He was more comfortable alone than he was mixing with people in society. I assumed he suffered from some form of social anxiety disorder as well, but who am I to diagnose. He was introverted and went hours at a stretch without saying a word.
My recovery was slow, but I made steady progress every day.
I woke up one morning and felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. There was a tense energy knit up in my body. It was like a reawakened instinct. Something that I had forgotten all about.
My body wanted something and it let me know it through a pulse that I felt in my chest and gut.
I lay in the bed with my eyes closed. I drew my knees up and spread them apart. I ran my hands up and down my stomach. I brought them up to my breasts. My nipples were stiff. I fondled them with my fingers. It felt good. I squeezed and massaged my small breasts. I pinched and rolled the nipples between my fingertips.
I ran a hand down my tummy. I’m used to feeling it flat, tight, and firm; but it felt different. All these days lying in bed and eating Todd’s cooking had an effect, and I had developed a soft little paunch.
I slipped my hand further down. I was getting hairy again. I ran my fingers through my soft, short curls. I spread my legs wider. I was slick with wetness between my legs. I dipped a finger to get it nice and moist. I then brought it up to my button and traced small circles around it. My body responded and I put more effort into the circles.
I thought about Todd. I wondered how his whiskers would feel against me—how his tongue would feel probing and flicking at me.
It came up on me fast. I opened my mouth, clenched my eyes shut tight. I rubbed myself harder. My knees came up until my feet were off the mattress. I pumped my head off the pillow up and down in five pulsing lifts. My abdomen tightened in a knot like I was doing stomach crunches. My toes curled and my thighs spasmed. My knees opened farther apart and then drew back together repeatedly as the waves convulsed through my body.
It had been so long, it was almost painful with intensity.
I collapsed my head back into the pillow.
“Shit,” I said. I closed my knees and rolled over on my side, my hand between my thighs clutching my buzzed crotch.
I opened my eyes.
Todd was standing in the doorway watching me.
“Morning,” I said.
“Oh, yeah. Morning. Uh…sorry. I didn’t…”
I smiled. “Good news. I think it still works.”
Todd chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I’d say it works just fine alright.”
“What’s for b
reakfast?”
“Uh. How does bacon sound?”
I felt a small soft roll on my tummy. “Sounds good.”
He left the doorway.
I got out of bed and slipped my jeans on. Todd had scrubbed them clean, but there were holes in the knees from the long crawl I had taken through the forest. The wood floorboards creaked and were cold beneath my bare feet. I slipped on a t-shirt that Todd had given me. It was too big, but it kept me warm.
I stepped into the den. “Ah, smell that coffee,” I said.
He handed me a cup. “Go wash up. Breakfast is almost ready.”
“Wash up? Why? Because I just rubbed one out?”
“Is that what I smell?” he said with a smile.
I raised my hand and shook a finger at his face. “Bad boy,” I said. Max looked up at me from his spot by the fireplace. “Not you, Max. You’re a good boy.” He thumped his tail against the stone hearth.
I went out the door and down the trail to the privy. The fog was lifting off the mountaintop. The sun was just coming over the ridgeline to the east. Through the remaining fog, it looked like a large white disk.
When I opened the privy door, there was movement over by the fruit trees. A deer darted into the woods. I had startled it. I went inside and closed the door.
I sat inside the privy and sipped my coffee. If it got much colder, I’d have to reconsider the bedpan decision.
When finished, I went by the cistern and washed off. The water was damned cold.
I dried my hands on my shirt and started back for the cabin.
I heard a strange sound and stopped. I stood still and listened. It took me a moment to register what it was.
The sound of a car coming up the mountain.
FOURTEEN
SELENA
A black Hummer came around the bend, heading toward the cabin. I stood there in shock.
Todd opened the door. He stepped out on the porch and watched the Hummer approach.
I walked quickly up to him. “What is this, Todd? This isn’t good, is it?”
“It’s okay,” he said. “An old buddy of mine. From the Army. He keeps a cabin a couple of ridges over. This may be a good opportunity to get some supplies before winter comes in strong. I can get a battery and alternator for my truck.”
The Hummer pulled up in front of the porch and stopped. Both the driver’s side and passenger’s side doors opened and two men stepped out.
The driver was tall and muscular. He was leaner than Todd, but still rock solid. He had short blonde hair, wore a floppy, desert camo boondocker hat and dark sunglasses. His lower half was clad in jeans and combat boots. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. I noticed the six-pack abs and the tuft of blonde hair that stuck up from his waistline in front. He had a cocky, confident grin.
Pure eye candy.
Took me a while before I noticed the other guy.
The passenger was shorter, dumpier. His brown hair was parted in the middle and he had a thick brown mustache. He squinted even though the sun hadn’t burned through the fog.
“Hello,” the driver said. “Todd, who do you have here? Well, well, well.” He lowered his sunglasses and took me in from head to toe. It didn’t bother me. I did the same with him.
“A friend,” Todd said.
“Hi friend. I’m Jack, Todd’s old war buddy. Todd sells weed to me.” He looked over at Todd. “It’s okay for me to say that, I hope.”
Todd laughed. “It’s all good.”
Jack walked up and shook my hand. “You can call me Marie,” I said.
He smiled a big handsome smile, showing a mouthful of white teeth. “I will most definitely call you Marie.”
I blushed.
“Jack,” Todd said.
“Oh, hey. I’m sorry. I’m not flirting with your…”—he made air quotes with his fingers above his head—“…friend here.” He lowered his sunglasses and winked at me. He mouthed the words “yes I am” to me. To Todd he said, “I’m just saying hello.”
The other guy looked shy and awkward standing behind Jack. He stepped forward and extended his hand. I held out my hand. He gripped me too hard. His hand was sweaty. He looked at my chest while he spoke to me. “Nice to meet you, Marie. My name’s Frankie. Frankie White.”
“Me and Frankie here are heading to town to load up for winter. It’ll take two trips. I figure one today and one next month if the snow holds off. Frankie’s crop is ready. I figure your stuff’s already cured, packaged, and ready to go. Am I right?”
“I’ve got some stuff ready,” Todd said. “A trip to town today would be good. I’ll take you up on the one next month also if you’re offering.”
“Well get your shoes on, guys. Pack up your pot. Daylight’s burning. And hell yeah I’m offering. Both trips. You know something, Marie? This guy saved my life in the war. I put his combat medic skills to the test, let me tell you. I had the worst case of hemorrhoids you’ve ever seen. I’m talking big-assed grapefruit sized ’roids. But Todd here had this special technique.” He made pushing in and out motions with his forefinger. “He knew just how to apply the stuff.”
I laughed at him.
“We’re just getting ready to sit down to breakfast,” Todd said. “Why don’t you guys come in and have some coffee with us.”
“Coffee? Hell yeah,” Jack said. “I’ve had a gallon of Red Bull and ready to start on the coffee. Hand me a pot.”
We all went inside.
Max padded over from his spot by the hearth and sniffed at the guests.
“Hi there, dog,” Jack said. He held his hand out for Max to sniff.
Frankie put his hand out as well and Max gave a low growl.
“Manners, Max. These are Todd’s friends,” I said.
Jack and Frankie sat at the table. Todd got the bacon off the stove. I filled four mugs with coffee and took one to each of the guests.
The guys made small talk. I pretended to be uninterested, but I was intrigued that they made no mention of passing Henry’s truck or his body on the way up the mountain road.
I went to the stove and leaned in to Todd. “I can’t go to town,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said. “You can stay here. It’ll be okay. I’ll be back tonight. Anything you want me to bring back?”
“Yes. Cigarettes, romance novels, bourbon, clothes,” I said. “Not necessarily in that order. A razor.”
“You need any...uh...”
“No, I don’t need any uh. My parts don’t function that way. But you’d better bring back toilet paper.”
Frankie had overheard us whispering.
“Bourbon, huh?”
I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. He was looking at my chest. I wasn’t wearing a bra. I wished I could force my chest to suck in my tits so he couldn’t look at them.
“What kind of bourbon do you like?” he said.
“Most kinds,” I said. “Maker’s Mark, Buffalo Trace, Evan Williams.”
“Never tried those,” he said. “You like Jim Beam?”
“I do,” I said.
“I’ll bring you some of that.”
“Uh, okay.”
“What books did you say you liked?”
This was getting creepy. “Um, there’s a Louis L’Amour we’re missing. Mojave Crossing, I think.”
“How do you spell that?”
Todd walked over with plates of fried bacon. He placed the plates on the table. “Eat up, folks.”
We sat down and ate. I had lost my appetite so I just nibbled at one strip of bacon. I looked over at Max. He gave me a hopeful look, but I knew he wouldn’t come to the table unless the effort was going to pay off. I nodded. He got up and walked over. I broke the strip of bacon into two pieces and gave him half. He sat at my feet and chomped it up.
“I sure hate to eat and run. But we’ve gotta go,” Jack said. He pushed his chair back from the table. He stood and stretched his arms. “Take one last look, baby,” he said to me.
I laughed.
&nb
sp; Todd and Frankie got up as well.
“You okay with this?” Todd asked.
“Yes. I’m glad, actually. Don’t forget bourbon. Cigarettes.”
Frankie walked up. I had already formed the conclusion that he was never going to make eye contact with me. He smiled awkwardly and held out his hand for another too-tight handshake. “Marie, it was nice to meet you. I’ll bring you back something nice.”
“Um, okay,” I said. I looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with Todd. I gave him a wide-eyed panic look. He shrugged and shook his head.
They walked out the door. I heard Jack talking as they were getting in the truck. “Damn, brother. You got yourself a hot piece of ass staying with you, don’t you?”
I couldn’t hear Todd’s response, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
I opened the door. “Toilet paper,” I shouted.
And then they were gone.
Felt strange to be alone at the cabin. It was easily the quietest day of my life. Todd is a quiet person, but the silence of the cabin without him was intense.
I picked up the place out of sheer boredom. There wasn’t much to clean.
I smoked a joint and drank some moonshine. I sang songs. I woofed at Max. Sometimes he would woof back. I re-read Zane Grey’s Spirit of the Border.
I realized I wasn’t like Todd. Being alone made me anxious.
By the time the Hummer came back that evening, I was standing on the porch watching for it.
The sun was sinking below the mountain peaks in the west, and they had the headlights burning. They parked near the porch. Todd and Jack stepped out. Jack had put on a shirt and denim jacket. He had taken off his sunglasses, but he still wore the boonie hat. Frankie wasn’t with them.
“Well hi there, Marie.”
“Hi yourself, Jack.”
“You glad to see me?”
“I guess.”
“We brought back a bunch of shit for you. Come on down.”
“She can’t lift anything heavy,” Todd said.
“Good thing you’ve got a little pecker then, huh?”
