All Fall Down

by Louise Voss

  Without moving her head, Angelica said, ‘Keep calm, Sister.’

  Heather made a low sound under her breath, putting both hands on the wheel and concentrating on the road. She was rarely calm. Sometimes, in the moments after orgasm, or after she’d killed someone, when their blood was still fresh on her hands, a stillness would come over her, like light filling her body, taking away the pain. But it never lasted long. She ran on rage. It was the fuel that powered her.

  The traffic was crawling in and out of the city, stretching across every lane. Horns sounded out like seabirds calling to one another.

  ‘Don’t see why I can’t get a decent car like Cindy’s, instead of this heap of shit,’ Heather complained. Angelica ignored her. She had heard it all before.

  Eventually, when she realised Angelica wasn’t going to say anything to mollify her, Heather said, in a quieter voice, ‘I’m sorry.’

  The corners of Angelica’s mouth lifted a millimetre. ‘No need to apologise, Sister.’ She reached across and stroked Heather’s hair with a crooked index finger. ‘We all feel anger. We just have to point it in the right direction.’

  Heather pressed her head against Angelica’s finger, but it was withdrawn quickly, and she snatched a glance at the woman beside her, looking for the same sign she’d been seeking for years. But Angelica had slipped back into neutral, and was gazing straight ahead at the backs of other cars.

  They drove in silence for a while. Heather gestured at the line of cars crawling out of the city, the faces of their occupants etched with stress visible even from the other side of the freeway. ‘Wonder how many of them are already infected?’ she asked.

  Angelica merely smiled enigmatically. ‘They have no idea what’s coming, do they? They’re worried now – but imagine the chaos in a month’s time …’

  Heather paused. ‘Dadi … we’re ready, you and I – we’ve been ready for years … but the other Sisters – are they?’

  Heather liked to do this; to elevate herself to the unofficial position of Angelica’s second-in-command by slyly casting doubt on the commitment of the others. Angelica knew it, but indulged it nonetheless.

  Angelica pretended to consider. ‘Sister, you know how hard we’ve trained to prepare for this. I believe we’ve all followed our instructions to the letter. Peak fitness, unquestioning dedication, limitless thanksgiving …’

  ‘Even Sister Preeti?’

  ‘Preeti isn’t a warrior. She has other skills we need. I will keep her at the ranch when the time comes. Simone, Cindy, you and I will handle the business. Brandi will drive.’

  ‘Good plan,’ said Heather, accelerating towards a stray dog that wandered dangerously across the freeway. ‘As always.’ The car hit the dog and Heather smiled as its mangy body somersaulted in the air beside them.

  They entered the city. The streets were bustling, life going on as normal, the beautiful people of LA shopping, scurrying between offices and lunch places, cruising along with their tops down, despite media reports of a killer virus ravaging their city.

  Angelica checked her phone. ‘We’re early. Let’s drive around for a while.’

  They cruised the coastline: Malibu, Santa Monica, Venice, down to Redondo Beach. Finally, when they had seen enough, Heather turned the SUV round and they headed towards South Central, checking the coordinates on the satnav.

  The two men were waiting in their own vehicle, a black Jeep only marginally smaller than Heather’s SUV. Lil Wayne pumped from the stereo, the two men nodding along almost imperceptibly. Heather drove past them once, taking a good look, then circled the block and pulled up behind them.

  The two women got out, momentarily stunned by the unseasonable heat. They waited for the doors of the Jeep to open. There was no one else around.

  This was South Central, the part of LA that tourists are warned, in block capitals, with exclamation marks, to avoid. It was Simone’s home turf, and Angelica had originally intended to bring her along. But Simone had started to tremble at the mention of it – something about some unfinished business, the reason that Simone had joined the Sisters in the first place – and Angelica needed someone with earthquake-proof nerves, someone who would be ice-cool anywhere.

  The men were younger than Angelica had expected. Barely nineteen, by the look of them, but tough, cooked hard by years on these streets. She looked them over, in their brand-new sportswear with diamonds in their ears. It didn’t matter how tough or rich they were. Neither of those things would offer protection from what was coming. What was already here.

  She spoke quietly and calmly, ignoring the wide eyes

  of the two men, the brute, lustful looks they gave her – and the sneer as their gaze turned to Heather. One of them, who stepped a pace further forward than his colleague, was way over six foot, wore a white-and-grey basketball top and had his hair in dreads. The other, half a foot shorter, was wearing a black jacket buttoned up against the heat and had a shaven head.

  ‘We all set?’ Angelica asked.

  ‘If you police, this is entrapment. My lawyer’s just waitin’ for my call.’

  ‘We’re not police.’

  This meeting had been set up through a chain of contacts. The two men should have felt one hundred per cent confident that they were not undercover cops. The question irritated Angelica. Made her want to put a bullet in this punk’s head.

  Basketball Top looked her up and down. ‘You sure don’t look like police. All right. You got the money?’

  Angelica nodded. ‘Let me see the merchandise.’

  The men – boys – exchanged a look of amusement before Black Jacket popped the rear door of the Jeep and unlocked a security trunk, then watched Angelica and Heather’s reactions, like two boys showing off their first car, expecting the women to be impressed.

  The guns were covered with a sheet, which Black Jacket pulled back. Angelica scanned the weapons, checking them against the inventory in her head. Half a dozen Glocks, a pair of Sig Sauers, two AK-47s, an Uzi, black and dull and deadly, plus enough ammunition to keep a National Rifle Association convention happy for a weekend.

  ‘Check it,’ Angelica said, and Heather – who had stayed silent so far, watching the two men like a cat keeping an eye on two mice – snapped into action, lifting the weapons and looking them over, running a hand over each of them, inspecting the ammo. The boys watched her. They appeared to be growing increasingly amused. Black Jacket kept staring at Angelica. She sensed he was the more dangerous of this pair.

  Eventually, Heather nodded. ‘It’s good.’

  ‘Sure it’s fuckin’ good,’ said Basketball Top. ‘Now – payment please, ladies.’

  Heather went to the SUV, reached inside and took an envelope of cash from the glovebox. She handed it to Angelica, who passed it on.

  Basketball Top thumbed through it and, taking a look around to double-check there was no one watching, gestured for Heather to take the guns. She set about transferring them from the Jeep to the SUV. Sweat soaked through the back of her T-shirt. When she was done, she came back and stood beside Angelica.

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ Angelica said. ‘Have a good day.’

  Black Jacket couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. The words he had been longing to say erupted from his mouth. ‘You are one fine bitch.’

  Heather immediately stepped forward. ‘You apologise.’

  Basketball Top laughed. Black Jacket said, ‘What?’

  Heather took another step closer. ‘Apologise for calling her a bitch.’

  ‘Fuck you, dyke,’ said Black Jacket.

  Basketball Top stopped smiling. ‘Yeah, fuck you. Bitch.’

  ‘Matter of fact,’ Black Jacket continued, pulling a Glock from the waistband of his pants, ‘maybe I will. Fuck you both, even the ugly—’

  Before he could finish the sentence, Heather launched herself at him, surprising him with a punch to the throat. He gasped, his gun clattering to the ground, and she grabbed him and thrust him into his friend, who was scr
ambling to get his own gun out. Heather used Black Jacket as a shield and aimed a kick at Basketball Top’s hand, connecting with the gun and sending it flying in a low arc until it crashed against the side of the Jeep.

  Angelica scooped it up and trained it on the taller man.

  Heather aimed another quick punch at the other one, breaking his nose and sending him to the ground. He reached for the Glock and she stamped on his hand, the finger bones crunching beneath her boots. He tried to push himself up and she stamped on his face. Then again. And again, until she was panting with exertion and Black Jacket’s face was a pulp of blood and bone.

  ‘Who’s ugly now?’ she said, spitting into the red mess.

  Basketball Top put up his hands up. ‘Hey,’ he said.

  Heather walked up to him, picking up the dead man’s gun and pointing it at the remaining man’s face.

  ‘Hey, come on …’ he started.

  Heather shot him through the forehead.

  Angelica laid a hand on Heather’s shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Though you didn’t need to kill the tall one. He was about to run home to his mom.’

  Heather’s breathing changed from sharp and shallow to slow and deep. Her pupils dilated. There was blood on the front of her T-shirt, darker than the sweat on her back.

  ‘He called you a bitch,’ she said. ‘Nobody is allowed to do that, not ever.’

  Angelica regarded her. She was so loyal. Always had been. Like a dog – a faithful, dangerous attack dog. She might have been ugly on the outside – the dead boy had been right about that – but on the inside she was beautiful. And she would be rewarded. They would all be rewarded.

  In the distance, she could hear a siren, growing gradually louder.

  ‘Come on, we’d better go.’

  They got back into the SUV. As they drove off, Heather couldn’t resist reversing over Black Jacket’s body. The way the SUV bumped over him made her smile. Angelica smiled too. Another beautiful day in sunny California.

  After a little while, she said, ‘Take a left here.’

  ‘Huh? Where to?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  She directed Heather until they reached Hollywood. Eventually, they pulled up outside a bar called the Rattlesnake. There were trucks parked out front, a few Harleys and a big neon Coors sign. She would definitely be able to find what she was looking for here.

  The last few days, she’d been fighting off a rising feeling inside her, a familiar urge that took hold of her every couple of weeks. Usually, she could ward it off with cold showers or ten minutes beneath the sheets on her own, but sometimes that wasn’t good enough. The craving was for something very specific. The closer they came to the Great Day, the more urgent became the desire; filling her, spreading outwards from her belly to her loins. The killing of the two gun dealers had brought the longing to fever pitch.

  She couldn’t hold off any more.

  ‘Wait here,’ she told Heather. She smiled and leaned closer to her right-hand woman. ‘I’m going to bring you a present.’

  Heather frowned. As Angelica sashayed into the bar and half of the men drinking there looked up as if they could smell the heat coming off her, she remembered why she never brought Heather along on these outings. Fuck it. Today Heather was going to join in. Angelica had a role for her to play.

  Ten minutes later, Angelica walked out of the bar with

  a twenty-year-old construction worker in tow. Patrick was a thing of beauty, with sandy hair, a light tan and a lean, ripped body. Plus he had a boyish smile and, from the bulge in his jeans, a big cock. Angelica swallowed hard and said a little thank you to the Goddess.

  Heather looked Patrick up and down and wrinkled her nose. ‘Who’s this?’

  Angelica slid onto the back seat and gestured for Patrick to join her. ‘This is Patrick. Be nice.’

  ‘Hi, Sweet Lips,’ Patrick said.

  Heather looked at him with disgust and Angelica laughed and ruffled his hair. Then she leaned over between the seats and kissed Heather on the lips, before jumping back and putting her arm round Patrick. In the rear-view mirror, Heather displayed a look of confusion and excitement.

  ‘Woo hoo!’ exclaimed Patrick. ‘Time to party.’

  Angelica told Heather to drive them to a motel. She sent Heather to check them in to a room and while they waited, she climbed onto Patrick’s lap and took hold of his face, kissing his soft lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He tasted of beer and peanuts. She felt her breath quicken as his penis pressed against her through his jeans. Oh yes, it was big.

  He tried to grab her, to pull her closer, but she pushed herself off him and opened the door, exiting the SUV just as Heather returned. Angelica stroked Heather’s short hair and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. ‘Bring the guns. And your knife.’

  She reached round and playfully patted Heather’s ass.

  Heather’s eyes glinted with excitement. Patrick got out of the vehicle, grinning and walking awkwardly, and Angelica gestured for Heather to toss her the keys, leading the young man up to the motel room while her sidekick fetched the holdall from the trunk.

  Once they were all inside the dingy room, Angelica shut and locked the door, then pulled the drapes closed. She turned to Patrick, a hand on her hip. Heather stood slightly behind her, the holdall containing the guns at her feet.

  ‘Take your clothes off,’ Angelica said.

  He stripped as eagerly as a virgin in a teen movie, down to his shorts, which bulged comically.

  ‘Those too.’

  He pushed them to the floor and stood naked before them, proud and erect. ‘So, what, are we going to, like, all get it on?’

  ‘Shut up and lay on the bed,’ Angelica commanded.

  His eyes widened but then he smiled again. ‘Sure.’

  He lay back. Angelica walked along the side of the bed, looking him up and down. He had the body of a Greek god, a marble statue in a museum. But real, hot flesh. She took his penis in her hand and squeezed it lightly, enjoying the feel of the thick, veiny shaft, running her thumb lightly over its circumcised head. Predictably, he tried to pull her down on to the bed but she put her free hand on his chest, pressing into the smooth flesh with her long fingernails and pushing him back down. She traced her nails down across his six pack until one hand held his cock and the other cradled his balls. She bent over and took the tip of his penis into her mouth, tasting him, running her tongue over his most sensitive spot and making him moan and reach out to touch her hair.

  She stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Heather was standing by the door, staring. It was a little irritating. Angelica said, ‘Bring me my bag.’

  ‘The holdall?’

  ‘No,’ Angelica snapped. ‘My tote bag.’

  Heather obeyed, and Angelica snapped it open.

  ‘Whoah,’ Patrick said from the bed. Angelica had produced two sets of handcuffs.

  ‘If you won’t stop being a naughty boy and trying to grab me,’ Angelica said, ‘you’ll have to be cuffed. I’m in charge here.’

  There was a flicker of doubt on his face, like he wasn’t sure how much of this was role playing, but then he smiled and nodded. ‘Cool.’

  Angelica held out the cuffs to Heather. ‘Cuff him to the bed.’

  Heather did as she was told, so the man’s arms were stretched behind him, bound to the metal headboard. He grinned up at them. ‘So are you going to fuck me now?’

  Angelica didn’t reply verbally. She gestured for Heather to approach her, simultaneously removing her own clothes, pulling her T-shirt over her head, unzipping her boots and pushing down her leather trousers. She stood in her white underwear and shook down her hair. She felt the power of the Goddess coursing through her. Her skin, as she touched it, felt ultrasensitive, all her nerve endings tingling.

  ‘Go on, strip,’ she said to Heather, noticing that her

  Sister was standing there, gawping. Over the years, Heather had watched Angelica undress many times, and An
gelica had become increasingly aware of the way that Heather looked at her body, sneaking peeks when she thought Angelica wasn’t looking. Angelica had always thought it was because Heather was envious of her taut, toned stomach, her long limbs, her small-but-perfectly-shaped breasts. Heather was all lumps and bumps, with biceps a Marine would be proud of, broad shoulders and a flat chest. Her strength was admirable but she was far from sexy. In fact, Angelica suspected Heather was asexual. She had never shown any real interest in men or women. She was purely dedicated to Angelica’s cause.

  Heather removed her clothes clumsily, the guy on the bed barely paying her any attention, his eyes focused purely on the taller, slimmer woman who now removed her bra, climbed onto the bed and straddled him, pressing her crotch against his through her underwear, leaning forward so her long hair swept across his chest. He pulled against the handcuffs, his desperation to touch her clear in the flex of his muscles. He had beautiful arms.

  A beautiful chest too. She kissed him there, flicking her tongue across his nipples in turn, which made him groan. She took one nipple lightly between her teeth and applied pressure. He gasped. She trailed kisses down from his pecs to his abs, that strong, toned stomach. He bucked beneath her, his cock so hard against her underwear. She moved her face down to his groin and gently ran her tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, making him thrust against her face. That annoyed her, but it was okay, she understood his eagerness.

  She took him into her mouth again, as deep as she could, reaching up to his chest as she sucked him, digging her nails into his chest, raking them down to his stomach, then up again. The sounds he made were half-pleasure, half-pain.

  His quickening breath made her worry that he might come too quickly so she removed her mouth, causing a groan of disappointment, and she sat back on his strong thighs, touching her own breasts, stroking them while she looked into his eyes, taunting him, making him pull as hard as he could against the handcuffs.