Sweet Dreams, Irene ik-2

by Jan Burke

  I heard the truck return. I was running out of time. I felt quickly but carefully along the floor, searching for another large shard. He had come into the house by the time I found one. He was pulling the table away as I put it under the head of the mattress. I lay back down just as the door came open.

  He hadn’t noticed the windows when he drove up. But as he swung the lantern in, he began cursing me savagely. It was obviously the part of his vocabulary he had put the most time into. I wouldn’t have minded listening to him refer in novel ways to various parts of my anatomy, sexual acts, kennel residents, and members of the oldest profession. But Raney, of course, didn’t just shout.

  He yanked me up off the mattress. I tried screaming at the top of my lungs, praying that with the windows broken, my voice might carry. He responded by cuffing me hard across the face.

  Raney seemed to be operating on the assumption that I was as helpless as when he had Devon hold me, because the solid punch I threw into his nose caught him by surprise. I had about seven seconds of pure enjoyment out of that before he retaliated. I could only offer token resistance to him, kicking and hitting him, but mainly deflecting his fists. I held on to the vision of his bloody nose. It was worth it, I told myself, and that became my new inner litany.

  I heard Devon before I saw him. He was shouting from the doorway of the room. “Stop it, Raney! Stop!” Devon raced across the room and held Raney’s arms. I stumbled onto the mattress. For a moment, it appeared that they might come to blows with one another. But suddenly Raney dropped his fists and stormed out of the room. Devon looked around at the broken glass.

  “What were you trying to do? You’ll never get out of here through those windows. And now you’ll just be cold. I heard you scream when I drove up, but no one lives anywhere near here. You could scream your head off and no one would know.”

  I tried to talk, but my mouth was such a mess, he had to bend close to hear me say, “Didn’t know.”

  “You didn’t know what?”

  “No one near.”

  Raney had come back with a broom and dustpan. He threw them on the floor. “You do it, man. You pick up after her this time.”

  “Okay, Raney.” Devon’s voice was coaxing. Just like when he said my name. “Okay, I will. But don’t hit her any more, okay?”

  Raney shut the door and leaned against it, arms folded. Devon began sweeping up the glass. His eyes moved from Raney to me. I lay curled on my side on the mattress. Devon was right. It was damned cold in the room now. But, I kept repeating silently, it was worth it.

  “What took you so long?” Raney said testily.

  Devon kept his own voice calm and low. “It was out when I got there. I had to wait until they brought it back in.”

  “Damn. Didn’t think he’d do that this time of year.”

  “I think he had a client with him, an investor or something.”

  “I had to leave this bitch here alone while I made the call. I’m gone fifteen minutes and look what happens.”

  Devon laughed, and after a moment, so did Raney. The two of them carried on like they were recording a laugh track for I Love Lucy instead of standing over someone they had been beating the tar out of for two days.

  “Man, when I came in here, I thought you were going to kill her.”

  “I wanted to. I wanted to. She’ll freeze her ass off.”

  Devon looked down at me.

  Suddenly Raney said sharply, “Pick her up.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  Devon shrugged and set the broom aside. I groaned as he started to lift me, and he looked at me with concern. “Damn, Raney.”

  “Just get the bitch off the mattress.”

  He held me close to him and stood.

  As soon as he straightened up, Raney pulled the mattress back. He held up the shard I had placed underneath the mattress, the second one, for Devon’s appraisal. I tried to hide my joy that the distraction was working. Now if they only would be satisfied that they had found my treasure, and not search further.

  “She was going to cut our throats! That bitch was going to try to kill us!”

  The look on Devon’s face turned to one of cold fury. His hands tightened on me in anger. Raney stood up and laid the edge of the shard against my cheek. This was not something I had counted on. Being carved up was not on my agenda. I was afraid and I knew it was showing; I could see the pleasure of it on Raney’s face.

  “Let’s cut her.”

  Devon’s fury faded. “No man, he’ll do worse to us. Like you said. He wants to work on her.”

  I tried to get myself back under control. I realized that this was getting harder for me to do. I ferreted out the anger I felt for them. Raney backed down, whether from Devon’s warning or because he no longer saw fear, I don’t know.

  Devon sighed. Raney searched beneath the mattress, but finding nothing else there, walked out of the room with the glass. Devon sat down on the mattress, still holding me. I wanted him to let me go, leave me alone, and yet the warmth of his body took the edge off the cold.

  He was stroking my oddly cut hair again, and he began rocking me. As bruised as I was, it made me groan again. He stopped and set me down as if I were a favorite rag doll. He left, taking the lantern and bolting the door shut. I was relieved, and closed my eyes. In a moment, I told myself, I would check on the shard in the mattress.

  I reached over and felt the edge of it. I was about to draw it out when I heard footsteps. I quickly moved my hand. Devon came in. He didn’t bring the lantern and I hadn’t seen him in the doorway, but I knew his step. He knelt beside me. I felt my throat tighten.

  Something fanned out over me; he had brought a rough woolen blanket. He spread it over me, then tucked it in around me.

  “See, Irene? I want to be nice to you. When you feel a little better, you’ll see what I mean.”

  “Help me escape,” I whispered.

  “No, I can’t do that. What would happen to my brother?”

  “Brother?”

  “Yeah. Raney’s my brother. Half-brother, really, but I don’t like that way of saying it.”

  He was silent. I wanted him to leave.

  “If I helped you, my brother would be killed, and that would be like killing me. He’s like my twin, even if we don’t have the same dad.”

  This bit of genealogy was hard to absorb in my condition, but I remembered thinking they looked like brothers the first time I met them, in the shelter. As if remembering that same moment, he said, “Where’s the journal, Irene? Tell me. I’m being really nice to you.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Tell me,” he said softly, leaning close to my ear.

  I turned my face from him. He laughed as softly as he had spoken, and left.

  From beyond the door, I heard them talking.

  “Man, you should have let her freeze. Teach her a lesson.”

  “She’ll still be cold.”

  “Yeah. Pretty soon she’ll be really cold.” They laughed together.

  Raney sobered first. “I gotta pick him up tomorrow. I don’t want you trying to get into her pants while I’m gone.”

  “He’s going to have her. Why should he get to have her and I don’t?”

  “Think about what he did to the old lady. Think about that witch.”

  Devon was silent for a moment, then asked, “Why are they following him?”

  “He says they’re following everybody who made out on the old lady’s will.”

  “Even the cop?”

  “I guess so.” Raney laughed. “Can you believe it? We’re beating the shit out of a cop’s squeeze.”

  “She’s gonna be a mess when he finds her. You can bet on that.”

  Their amusement over this lasted some time.

  I COULD NOT MAKE much out of what they had said at the time. I lay there trying to fold the throbbing of the latest blows into the back of my awareness. I felt along the mattress edge until I found the shard and pulled it o
ut. I tore a piece of fabric off the bottom of the mattress, using some of the batting and the strip of worn cloth to wrap the wide end of the glass. I touched its sharp point, relieved it had not broken when Raney had moved the mattress about. Possession of a diamond necklace could not have pleased me more. Carefully, I returned it to its hiding place. I thought of Sammy and Mrs. Fremont. I thought of Frank. I admonished myself silently again and again, until I could hear the words beyond the border of my sleep: You will be able to do whatever you need to do to survive. You will live.

  26

  I AWOKE WHEN I HEARD Raney go outside the next day. Soon I heard the Blazer pulling out of the drive. I rubbed my skin wherever I could stand it, trying to warm up. I sat up and moved my arms. I was still sore here and there from my fistfight with Raney, but I wasn’t really any worse off than I had been before. I checked the bottom of my left foot, and found it was not as tender as I was afraid it might be. I knew I would be able to put my weight on it when I had to. Would I be able to do whatever else I had to do? Yes, I told myself.

  With Raney gone, I had no doubt that Devon would take his chances with me. I heard him pacing around nervously and felt my own tension rising. The sooner he came in, the better. I wanted it over with. Before long, either I would escape the cabin, or I would have cheated them of doing me further injury.

  But his fear of the Goat was stronger than I thought. Devon paced and paced, as if he were as caged as I. Just as I was beginning to lose hope of a chance to try my plan, I heard the bolt slide.

  Somehow, as he stood there, looking at me, my courage fled. He was much more physically powerful than I; even if I had not been beaten, even if I had more sleep and more to eat, he would still have been able to overpower me. A smile crossed his face.

  “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t answer, but drew deep breaths, trying to calm myself. This is your chance, I thought.

  He closed the door behind him. I pulled the blanket up.

  He grinned. “Yeah, I can see you are.” He moved closer, and I felt myself tense. Survive.

  He stood over me and stared at me. “Were you cold last night?”

  I found some part of myself rebelling against my plan. My plan was to kill him, as surely as their plan was to do the same to me. But I was not practiced in it, and they were. Devon had kept me from Raney’s excesses. Devon had held me and helped me rinse my mouth when I was sick. Devon had brought me a blanket so that I wouldn’t be so cold.

  Stop it! I told myself. Devon brought you here, kicked you, held you so that you could be beaten, whipped you with a hose, took part in the murders of two people and will make yours the third. Survive.

  He was watching my emotions play on my face, though I had tried to hide them. He seemed wary for a moment, then grinned again.

  Suddenly he reached down and pulled the blanket from me, tossing it aside. I shivered, not entirely from the cold. He dropped down on the mattress, straddling me. To my dismay, he grabbed both of my wrists, pinning them near my shoulders. Keep your head! I told myself.

  He leaned down and kissed me. My lips hurt as it was, but my revulsion was stronger than my pain. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.

  “I’m going to have you, Irene. I know you don’t think you’ll like it, but you will. It’s going to be great. You’ll see.”

  “Help me get away from here,” I tried again.

  He laughed. “I told you. I can’t.”

  “You can. Please, Devon. Things will be better for you if you do. We can be together.”

  He laughed and let loose of my left wrist and hit me hard on the side of my head. I hadn’t expected the blow, and it jarred me.

  “You must think I’m a real moron. That’s too bad. I know you’re that cop’s woman. You go ahead and think about that cop when I do it to you, Irene. I don’t care. I just want to have you.”

  “He hasn’t done much for me lately, has he? He’s useless.” Forgive me, Frank, I thought. I needed Devon to be off-guard. “But you’ve been kind to me. I’ve lain here thinking about you.”

  “Liar,” he said. He reached down and grabbed my blouse, ripping it down the middle. He used the same hand to unfasten my bra.

  I had to get control of my fear. I had to. I took deep breaths again. He mistook the meaning of those deep breaths, and I gained my first advantage.

  “Goddamn, you are excited, aren’t you?”

  I reached up with my left hand and caressed his neck.

  He smiled. He let loose of my right hand, and placed his hands on my breasts. It made my skin crawl, but I willed my face into a smile, or as much of one as I could manage through my puffy lips. I reached down and took hold of the shard, moaning to distract him as I pulled it loose. With his arms as they were, I would not be able to do it.

  “Please, Devon,” I said, and he had no idea what I was really begging for. I ran my left hand along his chest and up on to his shoulder, then to his neck.

  “Get ready, baby,” he said. I was.

  He moved his hands down to my waist, and fumbled with the snap as he leaned over me. Now, I thought, now.

  With all my strength, I drove the shard into his throat, thrusting it in with my right hand as I pulled his neck down with my left. I stabbed into the place my left thumb had found only moments before, the artery near his windpipe.

  The shock on his face was complete. By the time he reached up to grab his neck, he had lost too much blood to remain conscious. He fell forward onto me, the life spilling out of him.

  I HAD KILLED A MAN.

  27

  HIS LIFELESS BODY lay bleeding, pressing me beneath his weight. I managed to move him over enough so that I could breathe. I fought down the urge to be sick. I wanted nothing more than to get out of that room, to run out of the cabin, but I was too weak. I cursed that weakness, then calmed myself as much as I could, and moved my arms and legs beneath him. Gradually, I was able to position myself so that I could roll him off me.

  The effort left me trembling. I drew deep breaths, trying not to think about the smell of his blood all over me, trying to concentrate on what must be done next.

  Don’t cry, don’t waste any of your energy. Don’t look at him. Get out.

  I had no idea how long it would take Raney to return from Las Piernas. I got up from the mattress and hopped over to the door. I was shaking as I opened it, but felt a sweet release of emotion as I moved outside of that room for the first time.

  I was in the kitchen. There were three other doorways off it. One led outside. The others led to a small living room that was obviously being used for Devon and Raney’s sleeping quarters, and a tiny bathroom. A quick look did not reveal the location of my coat and shoes. Devon’s feet were larger than mine and I decided a big loose shoe would be more of a handicap than a help. It may have been my way of talking myself out of having to go back into that room, or having to touch him again.

  I hopped over to the sink and washed my face with cool water, drinking it right out of the faucet. I was so thirsty, it was heaven. The desire to take a shower — to rinse Devon’s blood off me — was strong, but I was too afraid to take the time. I grabbed a paring knife, the only one I could find in the poorly furnished kitchen, and the set of keys Devon had left on the table. I took his denim jacket off the back of a chair and put it on. I saw a broom in one corner, and turned it upside down to use as a makeshift crutch. I put the knife and keys in the jacket pocket, and made my way outside.

  Using the broom was awkward, and being barefoot didn’t help. I worked my way over to the truck. I took the keys out of my pocket and tried each one in the door.

  Nothing.

  I tried them all again.

  Nothing. Devon didn’t have a key to the truck.

  I howled in frustration and pounded on the door of the tall vehicle, causing myself to lose my balance and fall hard to the ground. It hurt like a son of a bitch. I started to get up, when it occurred to me that I could at least make i
t harder for Raney and the Goat to catch up to me. I pulled out the knife, reached up under the truck, and cut the brake line.

  I pulled myself up again, literally and figuratively. If I went down the drive to the road, it would be easier going and I would probably encounter other people sooner. The problem was that Raney and the Goat were very likely to be those other people.

  I decided to follow the creek down instead. It would be less obvious. People liked to build their cabins along creeks, I told myself. There would be water to drink and sooner or later it would lead me to someone who could help me. I hoped.

  When I got to the back of the cabin, I almost changed my mind. The cabin sat about twenty feet above the creek. The slope from the cabin to the creek was steep and covered with leaves and pine needles.

  My decision was made for me when I heard the sound of the Blazer coming up the drive. I began my descent. I slipped and slid a couple of times, but made it down to the creek. I heard the doors of the Blazer slam shut. I crawled until I was under a bush that I hoped would hide me from their view, and waited, feeling myself break out into a cold sweat.

  Within minutes, I heard an almost animal cry, a screaming wail of denial and grief that I knew was Raney’s. He sobbed Devon’s name again and again in loud cries. I felt it go all the way through me. I had killed Devon to survive, but I didn’t rejoice in it.

  Soon I heard his cries turn to rage. “I’m going to kill that fucking bitch! I’ll kill her! I’ll kill her!”

  Another voice, the Goat. Lower, calmer. I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  Raney began screaming again. “Fuck you! Fuck you! This is your fault! This is all your fault! Oh God, Devon!”

  There was a gunshot.

  Had one of them killed the other? No, after a moment I could hear their voices again. Raney’s much quieter now. Then the sound of the truck starting and driving off. Had they left?

  I heard someone moving around outside. The hair on my neck stood on end. I could taste my own fear. I listened. Nothing.