“But what would a woman be doing out here in the middle of nowhere carrying a baby?”
“She must be in trouble,” Grace said. “I’m going to help.”
With that she swung open the door, jumped out of the truck, and ran away into the trees.
“Don’t let her go, you big lummox. You don’t know what’s out there.”
“Okay, okay.” Cody grabbed the flashlight from under the dash.
“She might get herself killed.”
“I know that too,” he said grimly.
He climbed out, began to follow. He caught a glimpse of Grace through the trees as she ran through a shaft of moonlight. He also glimpsed another figure further on. For some reason, it seemed to move strangely. Moonlight glinted on it, and he thought he saw long red hair cascading down the figure’s back. And was it clutching something pale to its chest?
Too far to see properly.
But for some reason just that glimpse of the hurrying figure, hunched over the pale bundle, sent a chill down his spine.
Something not right about it, Cody.
Something dangerous.
“Grace,” he called. “Grace… wait!”
But Grace ran after the figure.
He switched on the flashlight and ran through the trees after her.
Behind him he heard cracking twigs.
Looking back, he saw Pix following him.
“Wait in the pickup,” he told her.
“Yeah, as if.”
“It might not be safe out here.”
“It’s gonna be safer out here even with a big lummox like you than alone in that heap of junk.”
“Pix—”
“I’m coming with.”
“Okay… but stay close.”
Together they ran up the slope.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Knife in hand, Imad watched the door swing shut. He turned to Mabel. She sat motionless on the couch, glowering at him.
“Now Mabel, tell me. What is so special about this man whose name is like a game played by children?”
She shrugged.
Her thick lips pouted, sulky-looking.
“What is so special that you would risk prison, even death, to mutilate or kill his girlfriend?”
Her eyes narrowed. She said nothing. Her plump fingers knitted together on her lap.
“Tell me.” He reached for the telephone.
“I like him,” Mabel said.
“You like him. Isn’t it evident that he doesn’t like you?”
“Huh?”
“And he certainly wouldn’t like you any better if you harmed Susan.”
“He was nice to me.”
“To protect Susan, he was prepared to empty his revolver into you. He’d have done exactly that if I hadn’t intervened, Mabel.”
“So?”
“I saved your life, did I not?”
“So what?”
“Isn’t that a rather special gift?”
“What do you mean?”
“I gave you back your life when it could have been so easily taken.”
“What do you want from me, you filthy A-rab?”
“Tsk, tsk, so impolite.”
“I don’t owe you nuthin’, A-rab.”
“And incorrect too. By parentage I am Egyptian. But legally I am as American as… how would you put it? Momma’s apple pie.”
“You American? You’re putting me on.”
“Oh, indeed I am telling the truth.”
She frowned. “So what do you want from me?”
“Want?”
“Must want something.”
“Now, let me see.” He rested his fingertips together. “Mabel, it’s now in my power to grant you another favor. I needn’t call the police, you realize.”
She stared at him. Her glower softened. “Will ya let me go then?”
“Oh, Mabel, my dear, I can hardly do that. I told Susan that I would assume responsibility for you. To let you go would be the height of irresponsibility. You might simply attack her again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Words. Mere words. As long as you’re infatuated with Tag, you’ll continue to be a threat. No, I cannot let you go. I can, however, take you with me.”
She rubbed her hands on her soiled dress. She licked her lips.
“You will be in my custody, as much as you would be in police custody should I decide to call them. The difference is this: There will be no handcuffs, no jail, no trial. I’ll give you a comfortable room and good food. There will be a TV for you to watch. And books if you should wish to read… ah, no books perhaps. Reading might not be to your taste. But magazines and a radio.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Isn’t there always a catch?” He smiled. “This is the catch. You will not be allowed to leave the house alone until I’m satisfied—”
“A house?” she asked, suddenly beaming.
“Indeed. I live in a rather elaborate house. One might call it a mansion.”
“Shoot… you want me to live there?”
“For the time being.”
She slapped her knee. Her calf quivered. “I get it! You’re wantin’ to poke me. Gee, I’ve never been poked by an A-rab before.”
“Poke?”
“Sure. Whyn’t you just come out and say it?” Bouncing off the couch, she lifted her dress. Her pasty-white thighs were mottled with bruises. Her knees were scabbed. There was a fresh scratch from the recent tussle the length of one meaty thigh.
Imad saw she wore no panties, but her groin was hidden below the roll of her stomach. Her huge breasts quivered as she struggled to pull the dress over her head. Tufts of black hair hung from her armpits.
She talked excitedly. “No, sir. Never been poked by an A-rab. I’ve been done by a Mexican and a whole bunch of Cubans. And there was this guy from Austria—or was it Australia?—he tied me up with a clothesline and nailed me good and hard. Couldn’t sit down for a week, I can tell you. Here, just help me get this dress off, then we can screw.”
“No!” Imad snapped.
“I know it’s what you want, hon. Mabel don’t mind what you do, or how you do it.” She stretched out her arms to him. “Come here, hon. Enjoy.”
“No! I insist you lower your dress immediately. Cover yourself, for God’s sake. Or I will phone the police. Believe me, I will do that unless you behave with correct modesty.”
“Correct modesty,” she grunted as she pulled the dress down. She scowled at him. “You queer?”
“Hardly.”
“Wish I was a boy?”
“Mabel—”
“Cuz if you are, I can take it like a man.”
“Mabel. This is neither the time nor the place, however, for—”
“Good a time as any.”
“It is not.”
“Might as well mess up someone else’s couch as your own.”
“You are filthy and you smell like a garbage truck.”
“Can’t get it up?”
“I dirtied myself enough when I was forced to subdue you. I certainly don’t relish any further contact at such close quarters.”
“Fuck you, Charlie.” She dropped to the couch.
“So there’ll be no further contact until you’ve bathed and brushed your teeth. Which you will do immediately after we arrive at my home. Understand?”
One side of Mabel’s mouth curled upward. “You do want to prong me.”
“No,” he said. “Not until you are clean.”
“Oh, baby. I get the picture.”
“So what shall it be, the police or me?”
Licking her lips, she slumped on the couch and lifted her dress. “Do me now,” she said. “Show me how you do it A-rab-style.”
“You’re wasting your time with these antics.”
“Aw.”
“Come along, Mabel.”
“What’s your name again?”
“Imad.”
“Imad.” She stroked her hands down
her hips and raised a knee. “I like you, Imad. Don’t you want to put it right in here?”
He set the knife on a lamp table and went to her. She smiled up at him.
Smiled as, moaning, she used her fingers to massage and probe herself. Her fingernails became slick.
“Oh… Imad. Right here, right here,” she whispered.
Imad slapped her cheek so hard her face wobbled.
“Hey!”
He slapped her again. A loud thwack filled the room. “Get up.”
She got to her feet. Her face was red. Imad saw tears in her eyes.
“Whatcha gonna do? Beat up on me before you poke me?”
“Mabel—”
“Cuz that’s happened to me before when I got gang-banged. They beat the crap out of me, then… then one after another they poked me.” Tears ran down her face. The cheek with the burning red handprint grew slick with them. She used both plump paws to rub her eyes.
“Mabel—”
“I thought ya liked me,” she sobbed.
“You must learn to obey, Mabel. Once you understand that, you will find inner contentment. Understand?”
“But I… I—”
“Mabel. Learn to obey. Now, follow me.”
Imad led the way across the room. As they passed the lamp table, Mabel grabbed the knife.
“No!”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Amara held the baby to her dry chest. Her red hair had spilled forward, partially covering it. She walked through darkness, her shins whispering against the dry grass.
She’d been walking for a long time now. At first there’d been dwellings. Lights had shone from windows as if they’d been lit by burning torches. But after she’d been walking for some time, the houses had ended. She’d walked away from the town and into a range of barren hills.
As if by accident rather than purpose, she moved down one of the hills and into a canyon. She held the baby tight, her talon-like hands pressing the baby against her withered breasts.
Amara continued walking through the darkness. She entered a wood and passed among the trees, weaving in and out, never pausing.
Never tiring.
Driven by ancient purpose.
It was as she walked some distance from a road, yet parallel to it, that the truck stopped. Its lights lit a shining path in front of it.
Then a figure left the truck at a run.
A man’s voice sounded on the night air. “Grace… Grace. Wait!”
The figure of a woman ran into the trees. A moment later two more figures left the truck. A man and a second younger woman. They ran after the first, who’d already disappeared.
Amara walked on. She knew the first woman followed her. But that was of no importance. The ancient purpose drove her on. Nothing would distract Amara.
Nothing would get in Amara’s way.
Nothing.
No one.
Death would come on swift wings to anyone who interfered.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Ed, what’re you doing?”
He glanced up through the bars at Virginia. “I’ve already told you. I’m making a barb. When this baby goes in, it’s going to stay in.”
“You’re making too much noise… and the sawdust on the floor… they’ll see it.”
He groaned with frustration. “Look, Virginia. The point of the stake is sharp enough, but it needs a barb to stop her from escaping.”
“But they’ll hear you. And they’ll see the sawdust when they bring in the food.”
“Virginia—”
“And when they see it they’ll know what’s happening.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“And you’ll wind up like Marco and Cardinali.”
“Okay. Lemme think.”
“Ed. The lights could go out any minute, then—”
“Whammo. I know.”
“Move the sawdust bowl so it catches the sawdust.”
His face burned. Seemed so obvious. Catch the sawdust in the wee-wee bowl. Why didn’t I think of that?
Because you’re busy planning on doing some hunting with that harpoon of yours, Eddie old buddy.
Yeah, gonna harpoon me some fresh meat.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“I’m just imagining the bitch’s surprise when she sits on this instead of my pecker.”
“Don’t get overly optimistic.”
He ran his finger over the wickedly sharp stake. “Oh, I just know this is going to work like a dream.”
“You’ve got to avoid being caught with it first. Okay, Ed?”
“Okay, Virginia.”
“We’ve solved the sawdust mess, so what do you figure to drown the noise?”
He gazed at the edge of the cage bar that he’d been using as a file. It worked surprisingly well.
But noisy as hell.
Squeaked like a chorus of mice every time he ran the wooden stool leg backward and forward across it.
“Could use less pressure?” she suggested.
“Tried. It doesn’t scrape away any of the wood when I do that.”
“How much further to go before you’ve made the barb?”
He looked at the wooden shaft. About four inches back from the point he’d managed to file a cleft. A V shape, it went maybe a quarter of the way through the stool leg.
“Another half an inch. Then I have to work on making the point of the barb sharp too. When I’ve driven it into her, I need to pull back quick.” He demonstrated thrusting the chair leg up, then tugging back hard. “So the barb here digs into her flesh. Then I’ve got her like a hooked fish.”
Virginia looked suddenly uncomfortable and crossed her legs. “I get the picture.”
“Barbaric. But needs must.”
“Yeah, needs must.”
“Let’s see if this works.” He licked his finger and ran it along the edge of the bar he used as a file, moistening the metal. This time when he worked on the barb, it didn’t squeak. He nodded. “Slippery when wet.”
“It’s stopped squeaking now, but is it cutting?”
“Yeah, it’s cutting. I just need to keep wetting it.”
He worked for a while. Then…
He ran his finger along the eighteen inches of hard wood to lightly touch the point. A thought occurred to him. An interesting one at that.
“A bit like staking a vampire,” he told her. “Only I’m not going through the ribs.” He stabbed upward with the wood. “I’m going up through the crotch instead.”
“Oh, Jesus… You don’t have to state the obvious.” She scrunched her face, imagining the pain. “You’re going to inflict one hell of an injury, you know?”
“I do know. But after what she’s done to us? Couldn’t happen to a nicer person.”
“Well, I’d stuff some tissue in your ears, she’s going to scream the place down after you push that thing…” She grimaced. “You know where.”
His grin became wilder. “You know something… it’s going to be music to my ears.”
Lights out.
All right!
Ed was in a state of readiness.
Ready, Eddie?
He stifled the grin in the dark. They’d see with their nightscope goggles. They’d know he planned some surprise.
He sat on the blanket. The sharpened wooden chair leg that formed the lethally sharp stake he’d slipped down the leg of his pants.
Is that a harpoon in your pocket or are you pleased to see me?
It was all he could do to stop himself laughing out loud. He’d waited for this. Payback time. Once the bitch had this rammed up inside of her as far as her spleen, she’d be going nowhere fast.
Scream like a stuck pig, though. Which, as analogies go, was pretty accurate. He rested his fingers on the harpoon, feeling the thick, hard roundness of the shaft through the material of his trousers.
This is a stickup, honey.
A stickup you’re never gonna forget.
He sat there in the
dark waiting for the command to climb up onto the platform and to “present himself” through the hole in the Perspex.
Drafts slipped into the room. A door had opened somewhere. He heard rustling. A whisper of feet moving lightly across the concrete floor.
Nearly here.
Not long now.
Ready, Eddie?
I’m ready.
He stroked the thick shaft inside the leg of his pants.
Then he heard whispering.
“Okay.” This was from Virginia.
Shit.
Oh, shit, shit!
Their sex mistress had chosen Virginia, not him, for this session’s entertainment. Maybe he could still stake their captor as she worked on his neighbor. But it was dark. Dark as hell. He couldn’t see squat in the darkness. There wasn’t a hope of skewering her by sheer chance.
No. Must be patient. Must wait.
He covered himself with the blanket, just in case his captor should glimpse the rod-shaped protuberance in his pants. There was little chance that they’d mistake that for his dick.
He heard murmuring from the next cage. Virginia began to breathe heavier. The breathing became panting. Then she moaned.
Oh, that moaning.
Erotic moans.
Sexy moans.
It always fired him up inside. He imagined Virginia standing facing the cage, feet apart. Naked. Her hair spilling down the long curve of her back to her gorgeous butt. Her long thighs. Shapely calves.
And there’s a shadowy figure doing great things to her.
Working at her between the legs with slick fingers.
Stroking, parting, entering.
She gave a little cry.
Oh, Eddie. That is the sound she makes when being entered. Those fingers are inside now. Finding her clit. Toying, pressing gently, probing. Teasing.
Shit. His heart hammered.
The sounds of pleasure were making him horny.
Horny enough to distract him from what he planned to do with the sharp stake when he got chance.
He listened hard, his eyes straining into the darkness. Hearing moans, little gasps, muttered sounds of “Please” and “Yesss.”
Then it went wrong.
The note of the whispering altered.
He heard Virginia give a frightened gasp. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I’ll try harder.”
TO WAKE THE DEAD Page 28