Spencerville

by Nelson DeMille

In his house.

  You fuck him in our house?

  Yes.

  He seemed surprised and asked, How the fuck did you manage that? You're lyin'! You never could've fucked him in our house.

  If you say so.

  You're a fucking slut. You know that? You're a fucking whore, so I'm gonna treat you like a whore.

  She noticed the gun belt on the small end table to the right of his chair. She thought she could grab it, roll away, and draw the pistol before he reacted. She could make him chain himself with the leg irons, and she could get away. That's all she wanted—to be away from him and this house. She'd only shoot if he made her, and then she'd only try to wound him. She waited for her chance.

  Reluctantly, Keith moved away from the house, Billy behind him. About a hundred yards from the edge of the clearing, some two hundred yards from the house, they stopped.

  Billy sat with his back against a pine tree and said, The son-of-a-bitch could have nailed our ass with that infrared scope.

  Keith nodded and looked at him in the dim light. You don't have to stay. Go back to the truck.

  Hey, we got a deal. Right?

  Yes, but—

  Cool out, Keith. I know you saw somethin' that got to you, and I didn't see it. But I don't have to see it. I know him better than you know him. I been in his jail.

  Keith got himself under control. Okay. Thanks.

  We just sit here awhile. Let the dogs calm down. Let Baxter get settled in. We got him fixed. Remember that . . . how'd that go? Find 'em, fix 'em, and finish em. He added, Fuck him.

  Keith nodded to himself. He thought perhaps he should have taken the shot. But there were good shots and bad shots, sure shots and long shots. That definitely would have been a bad, long shot, and if he'd missed, or just hit Baxter's body armor, there was no taking the shot back. You just never knew. They told you in class that the first shot was not always the best you were going to get, but it might be the only one you'd get. You had to make a quick calculation, had to decide when to maintain fire discipline and when to go for it. Maybe if he had seen or foreseen what Baxter was going to do to Annie . . . but at least he knew she was alive and would stay alive as long as Baxter was getting some pleasure out of her. Bastard.

  Yeah. But more than that. This guy needs a whole new word invented for him.

  I've got a word for him. Dead.

  I like that word.

  Baxter went on verbally abusing her for a minute or two, and she kept eye contact with him as he'd ordered her to do, kneeling at his feet, but she wasn't listening, she was waiting for an opportunity to move. The gun was only about four feet away, but she had to distract him. She said, I'm cold. May I get the blanket?

  No, you can freeze your tits is what you can do. He went on to another subject and asked, How many other guys did you fuck since we been married?

  None.

  Don't lie to me. You got a hot twat, sweetheart. I see how you look at other men. All you think about is cock. Well, you're gonna get plenty of cock here, darlin'. He asked again, How many guys did you fuck since we been married?

  None.

  Bullshit. Before I'm through with you, you're gonna name every guy you fucked behind my back. There was other guys, wasn't there?

  She nodded.

  How many?

  Just two.

  Oh, yeah? Just two? He suddenly seemed interested. Who?

  You'll get angry.

  Angry? I'm pissed off now. Who?

  Promise you won't hit me.

  I ain't promisin' you nothin', except another beatin' if you don't tell me. Who?

  She took a deep breath and said, Reggie Blake and your brother, Phil.

  He stood. What?

  She put her hands in front of her face, mostly to keep him from seeing the smile on her lips.

  You . . . you're lyin'! You bitch, you're lyin'! Look at me!

  She lowered her hands and looked at him.

  Cliff kneeled down on one knee and put his face to hers. You think you're gonna fuck with my head, don't you?

  Cliff, please, this isn't fair. I did everything you asked me to do. I answered all your questions about other men a hundred times. What do you want me to tell you?

  I want the fuckin' truth.

  I never had sex with another man since we've been married . . . except him.

  You never fucked Blake?

  No . . . but he comes on to me.

  Oh, yeah? That fuck . . . and my brother?

  He comes on to me, too.

  That . . . I don't believe you.

  I'm sorry.

  Cliff stared at her, then nodded. Okay, we're gonna have the real truth. Maybe not today, but little by little, you're gonna tell me everything about other men. Right?

  She knew he was obsessed with this and other subjects like this, so as long as he was interested in the subjects, she was relatively safe. Yes.

  He didn't speak for some time, then, still kneeling on one knee in front of her, he took her chin in his hand and turned her face to him. He said softly and slowly, You always knew you'd wind up here like this, didn't you?

  She looked into his eyes and thought about that. In one way, she thought she knew him, knew how crazy he was, but never did she think he was capable of this. Yet the thought haunted her that she did know.

  You knew, didn't you? I knew, so you must've known. So if you knew this was gonna happen someday, you must've wanted it to happen.

  No!

  You love it—

  No! You bastard— She swung her fist at him, but he caught her by the wrist and slapped her across the face. She rocked back, then slumped on the floor.

  He stood. Get up!

  She buried her face in her hands, curled up into a ball, and began sobbing.

  Get up!

  Leave me alone! Leave me alone!

  Baxter didn't like it when she became hysterical because he couldn't get her to do anything he wanted, couldn't get her to listen to him, so he just had to wait it out.

  Annie lay on the floor, curled into a protective ball, her face still buried in her hands. After a few minutes, Baxter said, If you're through with your bullshit, I'll let you wrap the blanket around you, and I'll let you get something to eat. I'm waitin', but I'm not waitin' much longer before I get the horse whip. Fact, you got ten seconds. Nine. He began counting backward.

  Annie uncurled herself on the floor, then slowly got up into a kneeling position again.

  That's good. Listen, darlin', this can be as hard or easy as you want to make it. The quicker you understand that I'm in charge here and that you got to learn to shut your wise mouth, and that you got to do everything I say just like I say it, the easier it's gonna be on you. There ain't no way out for you, sweetheart. You're gonna cook, clean, wash me, suck cock, fuck, and kiss my feet. The better you get at that, the better it is for you. Understand?

  Yes, sir.

  You know, all you Prentis girls has always been stuck-up. You think I don't know you look down on me and my family? Who the hell do you think you are? What I'd really like is to have your bitchy sister here, too. She needs some lessons in cocksucking. Look at me, whore. I'm talkin' to you. How's that sound to you? The two bitches waitin' on me hand and foot with no clothes on—

  Please, Cliff . . . I'm not feeling well . . . I'm going to pass out . . . I don't want to get pneumonia . . . I have to have something to eat . . . I'm going to faint . . .

  He looked at her closely, then said, Yeah, we don't want you gettin' sick. I don't want to take care of you.

  You can't live on suckin' cock, can you? Can you?

  No.

  Okay, first you get that medical kit and change my bandage. Don't bother to stand, sweetheart. You're a St. Bernard now.

  Annie moved on all fours across the room and got the medical kit from a wooden storage chest, then, without him reminding her, she hung the canvas bag around her neck by its strap and went back to where he was now standing beside the sofa.

  Baxt
er lowered his pants and his undershorts, then lay down on the couch.

  Annie opened the canvas bag and took out a pair of blunt nose scissors made for cutting surgical tape. She put the lower blade beneath the tape that was wrapped around Baxter's left thigh and cut through it. She noticed that there was still blood on the tape, and when she peeled the gauze away, she saw that the wound wasn't healing properly, but it wasn't infected. She wondered if there was a way she could infect it.

  She took alcohol and cotton and washed away the blood around the wound. He winced. She put iodine on the two-inch cut, and this time he let out a small groan. He lifted his thigh, and she ripped off the old bandages, which also caused him pain, then she reapplied fresh gauze and began rewrapping the wound. He never said a word, she noticed, about the wound, or about his eye. His silence on the subject was his way of trying to convince her and himself that everything in the motel room had gone his way. In fact, she knew that Keith had put up a good fight and had almost succeeded in cutting Cliff's femoral artery. At first, she'd almost believed Cliff when he said he'd castrated Keith, but it was obvious, by his unresolved rage, that he hadn't.

  She noticed that he had his eyes closed, and she glanced over her shoulder at the end table beside his chair where the holster lay.

  He said, Lookin for somethin?

  She turned back to him.

  Now here I am, layin' down with my drawers around my ankles, and you're wonderin' if you can get to that gun belt before I do. Well, darlin', you can. But when you get there, you're gonna be surprised, cause"—he drew the pistol out from where he'd stuck it between the cushions—"I got it here. He tapped the barrel on her head and said, We got a long way to go, don't we? When I'm finished with you, you're gonna go fetch my guns for me and not even think about usin' them on me.

  She nodded, but she knew, and he knew, that time would never come. It occurred to her that he enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game; it gave him some amusement during the days and nights. It was important for him to show her he was smarter than she was, or at least more cunning and better able to survive in this world that he'd created. In one way, he wanted to break her, but in another way, he liked her spunk, liked her to present him with challenges. If she broke too easily, or too fast, he might get bored and depressed, then become more sadistic, until finally he'd just end it all for both of them. On the other hand, if she showed too much resistance, or if he believed that she was clever enough to actually get the drop on him, then he'd kill her out of rage, or out of his instinct for self-preservation. This much she'd figured out in the last three days, but she hadn't fine-tuned the balance between spunk and submission. There were moments when she didn't care, when the humiliations were so grotesque that she just wanted to give up. But each time she felt that way, she rallied herself and promised to go on for another hour, then another, until finally he would handcuff her to the bed and let her sleep.

  Baxter said, Wash the Baxter family jewels, darlin'. Use alcohol. I like that.

  She poured alcohol onto a gauze pad and washed his genitals.

  Ahh! That feels good. Put some Vaseline on ’em.

  She took a tube of petroleum jelly and squeezed it on his penis and testicles, then rubbed it in, noticing he was getting semi-erect, so she stopped.

  He said, You know, I can fuck three times a day. I'd fuck one or two women in a day, then come home and fuck you. How about that? And you thought you was the only one foolin' around.

  She never once thought he was faithful, and she didn't know why he thought this revelation was going to hurt her. But his brain was working hard to find things to do to her and say to her that would hurt, humiliate, and cause her to question her own worth and integrity. He thought if he called her bitch, whore, and slut long enough, she'd start to believe it. If he told her he'd castrated Keith, she might believe it. When he told her he wanted to fuck her sister, it did make her angry and anxious. When he used the belt on her, she felt defeated and powerless, but through the agony, she maintained whatever dignity she could, and the beatings strengthened her resolve to keep her sanity.

  She said, Can I get my blanket now and get something to eat?

  You was naked when I found you in the motel, and you can stay naked. He got off the sofa and pulled up his shorts and trousers.

  Please, Cliff, I'm cold and hungry. I have to go to the bathroom.

  Yeah? Okay, you can stand.

  She stood and, without him giving her permission, she wrapped the blanket around her.

  Let's go, he said.

  Can't I go alone?

  No way, sweetheart. Go on.

  She walked past the kitchen, down a short hallway, and turned into the bathroom.

  Baxter sat on the rim of the tub, while she sat on the toilet seat and urinated, avoiding his eyes. She wiped herself with tissue paper, stood, and walked back into the hallway, the chain keeping her from taking the long strides she wanted to take. She turned into the kitchen, but he moved past her and stood in front of the refrigerator. He asked her, What's a whore eat besides strange cocks?

  She took a deep breath and replied, I'd like something hot. I can get it.

  You eat what I give you. Sit down, if your butt don't hurt too much, or you can stand, or get on the floor, and I'll get the dog dish like last time.

  She went to the small table and lowered herself gently onto the wooden chair, with the blanket draped around her shoulders.

  He opened the refrigerator and put two slices of bread on a paper plate, then a few slices of mixed cold cuts, and threw it on the table. Eat.

  She began eating the bread and cold cuts while he watched. She didn't eat fast, but took her time, though she was so hungry, she felt faint.

  He took a beer for himself from the refrigerator and put a container of milk in front of her with no glass. He sat across from her and said, You ain't gettin' no more, so don't ask.

  Annie thought it was time to engage him in some normal conversation. He seemed calmed down, self-satisfied, and he might give her some information. She tried to adopt a pleasant tone of voice, as if nothing unusual had happened, as if he hadn't just beaten and raped her. She asked, How much food do we have, Cliff?

  Enough for two or three months. Ain't gonna be much fresh stuff left after a week. But I got cans and dried food. Plenty of beer.

  Then what?

  Then I can go into town and get more. Why? You got someplace you got to be?

  I just want to know how long it's going to be before we can go home.

  You are home, honey buns.

  I mean to our house in Spencerville.

  Why do you want to go there?

  I just thought we'd spend some time there.

  He smiled. Yeah? I don't think so. We're retired now, sweetheart. Gonna get that house sold.

  All right. I guess that's a good idea. She didn't want to drink from the container, but she did, then asked casually, When can I make a few phone calls?

  He looked at her. When you start feelin' sorry for what you did.

  I am sorry, Cliff. I'm sorry it happened. When will you forgive me?

  Never. But I might decide someday to go easy on you. But we got a long way to go before that day gets here.

  She nodded, knowing that day would never come. It was dangerous, she knew, to remind him that their children couldn't be put off too much longer, that they'd want to come to Grey Lake for Thanksgiving, or Christmas at the latest. Then there was her family, her sister, her parents, and his family. But to remind him that there was an outside world that had to be reckoned with might send him off the deep end. However, she'd already broached that subject by mentioning phone calls, and she could tell he was brooding over this. She said, If I can call a few people, they wouldn't wonder where we were. I'll say we're back from Florida, and—

  You let me worry about that. Maybe next week, or the week after. Far as anybody is concerned, we're on a second honeymoon in Florida. I don't have to report to nobody. I'm on extended leave of absence, and
it's my fucking business where I am, not nobody else's. The kids ain't kids no more, and they got their own lives and don't give a shit about us. I'll call them now and then.

  She nodded. Okay. She looked at him and said, Cliff, you really made me pay for what I did, and I got everything I deserved. So why don't we just pretend that nothing happened and go back to Spencerville? You know that you want to go back to the job, to finish out your next few years. I promise you that I've learned how to treat you, and I'm very . . . sorry for what I've done, and it will never happen again. You're all the man I need. She watched him closely, and she could see that she was actually getting through to him and that he was thinking about it. She continued, There's no reason to stay here too long. Whatever I learned here, how to satisfy you and make you happy, I can do in Spencerville. If we go back in a few weeks, we don't have to answer a lot of questions. Okay?

  He stayed silent for a full minute, then stood but said nothing. He looked at her, and she stood also, drawing the blanket tightly around her. They faced each other, and she could see he was fighting some inner battle. She didn't know how much of his behavior was a result of rage and how much was psychopathic. But the fact that he hadn't gotten any calmer, and in fact had gotten worse in the last three days, frightened her.

  Finally, he smiled and said in a pleasant voice, Sounds like you want to go back to the way we were, except better.

  I do.

  That must mean you love me. You wouldn't want tb to all those nice things for a man you didn't love.

  No, I wouldn't.

  He asked her, Do you love me?

  She didn't reply.

  Say you love me.

  She knew she should say it, just to say it, otherwise he'd know for certain that everything she'd already told him was a lie.

  Tell me you love me.

  I don't.

  I didn't think so. But I love you.

  If you loved me, you wouldn't do this to me.

  I haven't done nothing to you that you didn't have coming. Did I ever treat you like this before you went and spread your legs for somebody else? Did I?

  You . . . no, you didn't.

  See? You just don't like payin' the price. You don't like takin' responsibility for your own actions. That's what's wrong with you women. Always lookin' for a free ride, a pass, a way out with no sweat on your part. You pulled that shit in Spencerville. You ain't gettin' off so easy here.