As soon as she made it inside the building, Nina went straight for a pair of gardening sheers. Only after she had a firm grip on her newfound sword did it register that the girl wasn’t anywhere around. Rain suddenly pummeled the roof, and she heard her nemesis shouting.
“Just as soon quit runnin’, you piggy whore, ‘cause I gotcha now!” Lervette suddenly filled the doorway, drenched, wild-eyed, and hatchet in hand.
With nowhere to run, Nina stood her ground and aimed the sheers at her. “Stay away from me!”
Lervette sneered. “What you gonna do wit’ dat toy, piggy whore? Cut my hair?” She pointed the hatchet at Nina and took a couple steps toward her, sneakers making squishing sounds as she walked. “I t’ink I’m de one’s gonna do a better job cuttin’.
Nina stepped to the left so she stood behind the barrels. Lervette would have to go around them to get to her. If the woman attacked from the left, she’d go right and vice versa. Either way would give her time to reach the door.
Lervette shook her head, and rainwater flew from her short gray hair. “I got enough of you whores prancin’ into town wit’ y’all skinny butts and big titties, always turnin’ my man’s head where it ain’t suppose to turn. I’m not gonna let it happen no more, you hear me? You hear me?” Rage turned her face three different shades of red.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nina cried. “I haven’t even seen a man here!”
Snorting loudly, Lervette swung the hatchet like she meant to slice air. “Oh, you seen my man, and I seen you shakin’dem hips, too, so he’d look at you.” Then without warning, she darted right and headed around the barrels.
Nina shrieked and bolted left. Before she could reach the straight away to the door, Lervette swiveled on her heels and swung the hatchet out wide, missing Nina by a few inches.
Throwing herself across the threshold like a runner crossing a taped finish line, Nina tumbled onto the rain-soaked yard. Her feet slipped out from under her, and she landed on her back, air whooshing out of her lungs. She gasped for air, struggling to get up, hands and feet slipping and sliding like she was trying to climb glass. All the while she expected to feel the weight of Lervette’s hatchet crash into her skull any second, splitting it open. Just as Nina managed to find firm footing, someone grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back to the ground.
“I told you you wasn’t goin’ anywhere, piggy whore,” Lervette said, a meaty fist wrapped in Nina’s hair. She jerked hard, dragging her across the ground, back to the shed.
Nina screamed and thrashed, back-pedaling with her feet so her body would keep up with Lervette’s pulling. “L-Let me go, goddammit! Let go!”
“Shut you mout’, tramp,” Lervette shouted over the whoosh of rain and wind. “I’m gonna let you go when I’m good and ready, and it ain’t yet.”
The next thing Nina knew they were inside the feed shed and she was being forced to sit in one of the straight-back chairs near the table. She bucked and twisted as Lervette tried pinning her arms back behind the chair.
“Hold still, pig bitch!” Lervette yelled, then slapped Nina across the face hard. The back swing from her meaty hand came by way of a fist, and silver sparkles shot across Nina’s field of vision as it connected with her left cheek.
Her arms were yanked behind her—something rough, scratchy wrapped around her wrists. The heft and mass of Lervette’s body pressed into Nina’s face as the woman leaned into her, securing her to the chair. As soon as Lervette backed away, she slapped a piece of duct tape across Nina’s mouth.
Obviously satisfied with herself, Lervette grinned and brushed her hands together as if ridding them of dust. “Let’s see how much you gonna shake dat scrawny ass now, piggy-piggy.” The hatchet appeared again, and Lervette slapped the flat of it against the palm of her left hand. “I t’ink first we gonna have to take a little bit off de top.” Her face hardened, and she raised the hatched so the blunt backside of it faced Nina. Then she pivoted, like a golfer, and slammed the block of iron into the side of Nina’s left breast.
Shock—fire—pain—God, so much pain—The scream forcing its way from Nina’s lungs got trapped behind the duct tape, making it sound like air whining through a tight-necked balloon. Sparkles turned to black, strobing orbs—then the thick, sweaty face of Lervette Patin.
Lervette grabbed Nina’s chin and forced her to look up at her. “Now what we gonna do wit’ you, piggy-piggy? Bottom or top?” She pursed her lips and leaned closer until her nose nearly touched Nina’s cheek. “Hmm—hmm? Guess we gonna have to see . . .” She shook Nina’s chin roughly, then released it.
Stomping over to the storage shelves, Lervette grabbed a tin can, then marched over to the barrels and dunked the can into the one that was already open. She carried the swill over to Nina and shoved it under her nose.
Unable to minimize the horrendous smell by breathing through her mouth, Nina jerked her head away and kicked out, trying to move the chair backwards with her feet.
“No, no, you need to get you a good whiff, piggy, a good one.” Lervette kept the can pressed under Nina’s nose. Swill sloshed onto her chin, slid down her neck, splashed onto her t-shirt.
Gagging and retching behind the duct tape, Nina thought she’d surely suffocate when Lervette suddenly ripped the duct tape off her mouth. Nina’s gasped—gagged—gasped—and Lervette shoved the can of swill against her mouth and poured.
Hot, thick, vile liquid flooded Nina’s mouth, some of it traveling far into her gullet before she could spit it out. Her tongue felt coated with burning, bubbling decay. Her stomach heaved, spewing what little she’d swallowed onto Lervette. Seemingly nonplussed, Lervette grabbed Nina’s chin again, shoved her head back, then let go of her chin and squeezed her nostrils shut. Nina’s mouth sprang open reflexively, and Lervette poured in more swill. This time, before Nina could spit it out, the woman slapped another strip of duct tape over her mouth.
Trying not to swallow and even harder not to cry so her nose wouldn’t get stuffy, Nina kicked and managed to catch Lervette on the shin.
“Son-of-a-shit!” Lervette backed away, grabbed her right knee with a hand, and hissed with pain. “Dat’s it!” She bellowed. “You goin’ to de bottom, you son-of-a-shit pig whore!”Standing upright, she lifted the hatchet and stumbled back a step. “I’m gonna cut—” Lervette’s eyes suddenly grew big—“What’s dat—” and her knees buckled, dropping her to the floor.
Behind her stood the little girl in the faded yellow dress.
The child smiled at Nina, then lowered her head a little, narrowed her eyes and stared at the open barrel of swill as though her gaze alone might burn a hole through it.
Lervette was still rolling about on the floor, grunting, cursing, struggling to get to her feet, when the barrel began to rock from side to side—harder—tilting—rocking—faster, swill the color of rust and mustard splashing over the side. Then, as if someone had given it a hard shove from behind, the barrel toppled over, spilling its contents—thick—lumpy—crimson—across the floor and over Lervette. What tumbled out of the metal barrel last—the good stuff at the bottom—the stuff Lervette said Maudwan loved to eat—numbed Nina’s senses. She stared in disbelief, whimpering. A foot, severed just above the ankles—part of hand with three fingers, each nail painted bright red—bones—long bones—
“Go!” The word blasted into Nina’s right ear, and she saw the girl standing beside her, pointing past a slipping, grunting Lervette to the open shed door. “Go!”
And just like that, Nina felt her wrists freed from the twine, both arms plopping to her sides. Not questioning, not thinking, Nina jumped to her feet, ripping the tape from her mouth as she ran for the door—spitting—spitting . . .
“You come back here!” Lervette shouted, still scrambling in swill.
Nina ran into the rain, crying, confused, lost. Where to go? Where was the road out of here?
“Come.”
The command was simple and echoed, like it had been s
poken in the vestibule of a cathedral. It came from the girl, who stood beside the open gate of Maudwan’s pen. “Come,” she said again, only her mouth didn’t move. “This way.”
“Your scrawny ass is mine, piggy-piggy! Dem titties, too. Dey comin’ off! I swear to son-of-a-shit I’m gonna cut dem off!”
Lervette appeared at the entrance of the shed covered in slop. In a matter of seconds she was barreling toward Nina, teeth bared.
Nina took off for the little girl and Maudwan’s pen. If nothing else, she’d have the same advantage she’d had with the barrels. This time, though, she’d go through the pen, then climb over the rails on the other side. For Lervette to catch up with her, she’d have to either back out of the pen and run around it, which would easily put some distance between them, or the woman would have to follow her and climb the rails to cross over to the other side. Lervette and all her blubber might be able to run, but no way would she be able to hoist all that weight up wooden rails without breaking them.
Maudwan stood near the north end of his pen obviously riled by all the action. He grunted loudly, snorted, tossed his massive head from side to side, hooves pawing in mud and what looked like a thick, oozing pile of his own shit.
The little girl took a step back as Nina rounded the gate and burst into Maudwan’s pen.
Maudwan let out a shrill, long squeal at the same time Lervette screamed, “Don’t you go in dere, you pig-bitch! Leave him be! Leave my man be!”
Her man? Nina threw a glance at Maudwin—at the mole on his snout—remembered the picture of the man in Lervette’s house—the mole—the mole.
“Son-of-a-shit!” Lervette sloshed sideways into the pen, her arms waving about for balance.
Nina headed for the rails at the back of the pen. Five high—enough space between the thick slats to stick a foot through. As soon as she lifted herself up on the bottom rail, she felt something grab then slip off the back of her shirt.
“No, no, I said come here!” Lervette yelled, her left hand grabbing again at Nina’s shirt.
“Fuck off!” Nina threw a back kick and nearly lost her footing. She draped herself over the top rail of the pen, looped her arms around the first slat so she’d have leverage, then kicked with all she had.
The blow landed in the center of Lervette’s chest, and the woman fell backwards with a loud, Oomph!
Still squealing and pawing furiously, Maudwan suddenly took off for Lervette, head lowered, tusks long—pointed—wet.
Nina saw it coming, but too fast—too fast . . .
Gawking, Lervette sat, seemingly paralyzed as the animal charged—and drove his left tusk through the middle of her throat. Maudwan dragged her twenty feet or more, then tossed his head again, causing Lervette’s body to flop and jerk about. Her eyes were open, so was her mouth, but both had that stuck look that only belonged to the dead.
Grunting—grunting, Maudwan seemed content to simply drag Lervette around the pen. The animal circled toward the gate, his recent kill trailing blood, him trailing shit, just like the first time Nina had seen him. It wasn’t his shitting that got her attention this time—not even his size. . . .
It was the little girl standing near Lervette’s house, waving at her—dress bright yellow and new—hair clean and combed—a smile that lit up her face . . . right up to the moment she faded completely from view.
The End
Table of Contents
Bottom Feeder
Midpoint
Bottom Feeder Page 2