The blasphemous allure motivated him. It was inviting in ways that it shouldn't have been. Something about the mockery of familiar iconography stirred urges he thought were held exclusively for Elisabeth.
Her fingers raked the stacked human remains, and her large breasts glistened in the moon glow blades that stabbed through the altar's stained glass. Her long legs crossed and her foot slid across her tanned shin.
Her features were soft and pleasing to the eye.
He crossed the threshold, approaching the altar with feelings that swung between reluctance and desire. There was something majestic about this woman that compelled him to pledge fealty. Magnetism that was impossible to resist, even if he wanted to.
He didn't.
His innards flashed hot white and he took hold of the nearest pew to steady his lumbering weight. His back joined the brigade of other useless body parts ailing him. It cracked and sent him doubling over. He looked at the throne of skulls for answers. The satanic queen was slow to rise.
A trembling hand reached for her.
Why was it covered in thick brown hair?
Another flash.
The church was gone.
The wooded path was narrow and ever thinning as he walked it. A healthier forest than the one that had bordered the graveyard, his stuttering heart took the opportunity to slow. Nothing here to be scared of. His body relaxed. The pain rescinded.
He hastened his stride, legs eager to carry him someplace that he didn't know.
The trail opened into a clearing centered by a glossy lake. Its surface was silent and undisturbed. On the far end, a human outline dipped a foot beneath the surface. An echo of concentric circles rippled outward.
The outline slipped from its clothing, revealing a woman's figure. Lenient steps brought her into the lagoon. With a splash, she was fully submerged.
Allen waited for several minutes but the swimmer never reappeared. The lake's surface quieted and fell solemn. Dead silence afforded him a moment to think back on the night. Only now was he beginning to understand how wrong all of this had been.
The swimmer darted up through the blue at Allen's feet. She propped herself on the embankment and her elbows rested in the dirt.
Molly Perkins smiled.
"I think you should join me for a dip."
"I don't think so."
"C'mon, sexy. It'll relax you."
"I am relaxed."
She laughed, but the sound seemed less about amusement and more about taunting him.
"That's funny?"
"You're funny. Are you afraid we're going to get back together because we occupy the same body of water for a few minutes?"
"No...it's just...uh, I..."
"You're stuttering. That means you're tense."
Molly's invitation brought much needed comfort. The impassiveness with which he'd witnessed this evening's events melted, as if it were too numb for an appropriate reaction. That bottled panic spilled from him at once, leaving him affected by all that he had seen.
"You're shaking. Allen, come on, I swear I'll behave."
Her familiarity promised security. It was just a swim with someone he knew (who happened to be naked). It would get his mind back into sorts (and get his rocks off).
Allen tugged his shirt collar and pulled it off. He unbuckled his belt and got his jeans off. Molly treaded water in silence. She drifted into the corner, avoiding pockets of moonlight in favor of the shadows.
He stripped down to his boxers and asked if it was cold.
She shook her head.
"Why don't you come into the light so I can see you?" He stepped ankle deep into the icy lake. Goose bumps pocked his arms and legs.
She hoisted herself over the water to show the rigorous outline of her breasts.
"You want to see me, Allen, you're going to have to get a lot closer than that."
He waded in until his was drowned. He swam for Molly's silhouette, surprised by how badly he wanted her.
Molly dipped beneath the black-blue for a moment. Then she held her corner perch, kicking her feet in a playful gesture that splashed him.
He felt her eyes watching him with excitement.
Allen wouldn't need convincing tonight. His desire throbbed. He wasn't thinking about Elisabeth. She was nowhere to be found, and it was Molly who offered consolation. It was Molly who could take away his pain. It was Molly who would vanquish the horrifying images of his pregnant mother, the decadent mass, and the demon queen.
When he neared, she launched from the inlet and slapped against his chest, closing her arms around his neck. Her wet body slipped but he was determined to keep her near. His hands dove and squeezed her shapely ass. Her ample chest pushed in against his hardened abs and instigated his lust.
He went in with his tongue but her head snapped away to avoid it. Undeterred, he went for her tits, grabbing and squeezing them with greed. She moaned and giggled. Without any effort at all, she again had everything she had wanted. He supposed that made him weak. That it put her in control. He didn't care. He needed Molly in this moment. Anything to take his mind off that severed head, his father's desecrated body, and Uncle Jett.
His neck hurt just thinking about that.
They were adrift and floating. Their bodies thrashed without aim. The splashing water enhancing the shared experience. Allen tore his attention away from her body, desperate to feel her mouth against his. That was the relief he craved.
Her lips were missing.
As was her nose. There was crooked and triangular recess in the center of her face. One of her eyes had been drained of its color and was nothing more than a milky white blur with clear liquid spilling from its corners. Three jagged slashes ran the length of her face, destroying all the beauty that had once been present.
Allen screamed and kicked away from her. He spun and cut through the water with a desperate paddle. Molly giggled again and her voice was infantile.
Something hit his back hard.
An unflappable weight piled on and pushed him beneath the surface. He twisted until he was on his side and facing his attacker. Watery eyes showed Molly's mangled visage. Her shredded lips revealed the exposed gum line above and below her mouth. An awful grin and perverse mockery of her once infectious smile.
He screamed again, several gulps of water filled his lungs as two hands slid around his neck.
"Stay down here with me, Allen," she said. Her voice was crystal clear despite being under water. "With us."
Allen flailed but Molly was more powerful in death.
Then he realized what she'd meant by us.
Groans erupted from the lagoon floor. Cries of misery that grew louder and more constant as his struggle against the living corpse aided their descent.
Molly was determined to deliver him to those voices. Her expression intensified in what remained of her face as she positioned herself on top of him. Her thighs were clamps, locking and riding him to the nautical floor.
His back bowed against the pond's cold, jagged base. The surface was a glimmer of hope several feet beyond.
Calloused and blistered hands burst from the ground, wrapping around his shoulders and fastening him there. Rotten arms broke through the rocky floor and clamped his feet. A third pair broke out, followed by a fourth and a fifth. They took his ankles, thighs and stomach until he was locked into place.
Molly released her grip and hovered overhead like a perverse angel.
"We're keeping you, Allen."
He screamed out, trying to appeal to her mercy. His mistake was assuming that she had any of that left.
In his peripheral, the pond floor exploded. Debris clouds puffed. Bodies vaulted from the gaping craters. They'd been people once, but were disarrayed corpses now. Flesh tones were gray, though others were rotted to the bone. Several of the bodies ambled toward him, wearing tattered clothing that flowed behind them like sails.
Two of them floated near. Their eyes were hollow sockets, bowls of bone that cast judgment
upon him.
His deranged angel pumped an excited fist.
"Take him," she cried. "He did this to us."
Allen didn't know what that meant and couldn't ask.
He threw his mouth open, determined to drown before these things could have their way. Gallons of water filled his throat, but his consciousness remained firm.
Shimmering bodies took residence all around him. They dropped to their knees in unison, pulling him.
He screamed, his mouth a continued vacuum for pond water. Their grips were like Molly's, firm and impossible. He squirmed, but their constricting hands hadn't allowed their grips to waver.
Fingers closed around Allen’s shoulder, piercing his skin and tearing his arm off. There was a loud POP as the limb broke, accompanied by an eruption of red water. At his heel, one of the zombies took his foot and bit through his big toe. Another explosion of crimson six feet away.
His attackers mumbled audible glee as the dismemberment continued.
Every bite and pop hurt worse than the last. He rocked his head, screaming in agony until his angel drifted back down, hovering horizontally so that their lengths matched. The mob of undead backed off to become a circle of horny onlookers.
"You're mine forever," she said and pressed her mutilated face to his. Her tongue glided out and plunged into his mouth, finally giving him what he wanted.
Only the muscle was coarse. Somehow dry, despite this soggy grave. A reminder of the decaying body it belonged to. His nose poked into the rivets where her own had been.
Her fingers crawled like a spider along his wounded chest, slipping under his boxers and grabbing his shriveled penis. It fit entirely in the palm of her hand as her tongue continued to probe his protesting mouth.
"I love you baby," she said and squeezed him until it popped.
The pain rocked him free of the zombified masses. He tried to swim but his waist had gone numb. Molly pushed on his chest, and he fell back against the lagoon floor while watching her dangle his severed member. Bloody contrails dissipated and she opened her palm and let his battered cock drop.
It sunk onto Allen's chest where the cut side faced him. Ligaments flailed against the current. The mob of creatures resumed their assault, pulling and tearing at his remaining appendages.
The last thing he saw was the dark outline of his unholy angel, ascending to the surface while grinning manically.
***
Lucy tried to enjoy the resort's complimentary breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast while sitting on her room's small terrace overlooking the golf course. Behind aviators, she watched a foursome of elderly men struggle to carry their golf bags off hole three. Gold retirement jewelry hung around their necks and glinted from their wrists, and they had the bread to stay here. But apparently, they were too cheap to pay for caddy service.
The sun inched over the Greifsfield forest tree line but the rays hadn't yet cranked up the temperature to where swamp ass was a concern. Maybe today would bring the bout of rain these mountains sorely needed.
There was still time to enjoy the slightly cool mountain morning, and being out of the house was a huge plus.
Even though you’re still on your father’s dime.
Not for very much longer.
Maybe if Mom had been more sympathetic, or actually listened to reason, Lucy would've put more of an effort into making her understand. It was hard to escape the feeling that it was a wasted effort though. For some, the only way to make it through life was to deny reality.
For now, she was content to communicate by text. Phone calls to the department store only when necessary. Until school came back around, the fourth floor of the Big East would have to be home. She was tempted to leave town, but the endless bustle of this place offered more safety than hiding out in a Springfield apartment.
She thought about taking a cabana, but after booking Jack and Molly in two of them, it was impossible to justify taking more money away from the resort by sequestering a third. It wasn't her father she'd be hurting, but the maids, and servers who depended on this place as a source of income.
The golfers spent the next fifteen minutes trying to tee off. After a series of frail and humiliating slices, they succeeded in slapping their balls down the fairway. Slowly the plaids and caps moseyed off behind an embankment. Lucy dallied through an issue of Cosmopolitan, amazed that the staff writers were still capable of unearthing 99 Secret Sex Facts after all these years. A subject that normally would catch her interest felt lewd today.
She texted Molly after deciding it was too early for a phone call, curious as to whether or not she'd survived last night alone. Her thumb toggled back and forth between the sent message screen and the received list, waiting for the confirmation checkmark to appear. It didn't. Phone must've been off.
Just as well, though. There was another call to make.
Her fingers moved through her contact list like molasses. Mom answered before the phone had a chance to ring.
"Lucy, the store is incredibly busy this morning..."
"Top o’ the morning to you too..."
"For real, Lucy. I don't have time right now."
"I'm sure Carla can hold the fort for a few."
"She can...if she hadn't called out today."
Big surprise. Carla, the store's only other full time employee, called out every other week. She often forfeited vacation time to have more sick days. She needed all of it, too on account of the perpetual black cloud that hung over her. If it wasn't her health it was her cat's health, or her son and his impressive collection of DUIs. Even her car got sick on the fly. It was also her ancient parents, both over 100 years old, they spent as much time in the hospital as out of it.
"That's too bad," Lucy said. "Did you see Dad today?"
"Your father's out of town. He left early this morning. I tried getting up with him to make breakfast, but he was in a rush. A last-minute meeting with some VIPs."
"He sure has a lot of those."
"Lucy, your father's a businessman. What do you think he's off doing?"
Typical. Mom could rant about his shortcomings all she wanted, but joining in to rake Dad across the coals was always over the line. Probably because it was a reminder that her judgment was so impaired that it was broken.
She knew that, deep down, but didn't want to hear her daughter say it. Lucy couldn't stomach quality time with her these days because it was like addressing a wall—the comments bounced back in your face every time.
As for Dad, she pictured him already checked into a swanky New York City suite, prowling for the next twenty-something gold digger willing to give it up.
"Do you know where he went?"
"No. He said it was another big opportunity for Greifsfield and left."
Elisabeth's words echoed back again, inciting more anger than ever. Deep pockets speak much louder than protest. There are many of us who realized it was futile to argue with big business.
"Do you need anything, Luce? We are very busy today."
"Uh-yeah...I need something. I want to talk to you about Dad."
The line was silent. Lucy felt her frustration simmering from here.
"I want you to know that I haven't been looking forward to this conversation...I know it's going to be hard to hear this."
Lucy didn't know how to say it. It should've been as simple as stating what happened, but those words were absent from her vocabulary. This was a first. Lucy never had problems finding words for anything.
The longer she sat on the terrace on a calm and sunny morning, she understood why the words wouldn't come. It was tactless to tell a woman over the phone that her husband had molested her daughter. This wasn't about what was most convenient for her, it was about doing the right thing.
"Lucy..."
At the danger of losing her mother's ear, she blurted out, "Dad's cheating on you, Mom." That was also true, and, unfortunately for Rachel Eastman, the lesser of two evils to be faced with.
"Lucy!"
"Mo
m, I've seen it. He does it here...where he thinks he can get away with it." It was less humiliating than the other thing. Thinking about the latter even in passing prompted her need to shower.
"Okay Lucy, what the hell am I supposed to say now?" Mom's voice was hushed in an effort to keep customers out of earshot. "Do you want me to get a divorce? Take you and Nick and live off child support?"
"You know you’ll get everything…"
The other line was quiet again.
"Mom, I've been debating whether or not to tell you for a while."
"I wish to hell you hadn't. You don't have any proof. Your word against his, right?”
"I told you so you can do something."
"Do what?"
"Something. Anything? Am I supposed to have the answer for you?"
"I can't right now...why would you even...I have to go."
"I'm going to come by the store."
"Don't. I can't do this here. And Kassie and Sara don't have to hear about this."
"Fine. If Dad's gone, I'll come by the house tonight."
"I won't be there...I'm going out with the girls."
"Are you fucking kidding me, Mom? What is this, college again? Gonna drink a few twisted teas and play some beer pong?"
"Fuck you!" The line clicked dead.
Lucy sat stunned.
Does she even believe me?
That was difficult to answer.
Mom's immaturity had just been compounded. Granted, it couldn't be an easy thing to hear: your sleazeball husband chases pussy like a dog chases his tail. But Rachel hadn't even taken it with a grain of salt.
Because she knows. And has always known.
The next decision was difficult.
Lucy pushed the cooling breakfast away. Why in the hell was she up at this hour, let alone wide awake and contemplating these options? Seeing the bastard she called Dad in her dreams didn't make sleeping that much fun.
She thought about calling Jack, but they'd had a late night driving back from the world's worst movies that nobody should ever remember. Calling so soon—and this early—meant running the risk of coming on too strong.
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