She is being careful, Abilene thought.
But why doesn’t she hurry?
She won’t be safe till she’s back up here with the rest of us. Gazing over the shotgun barrels, Abilene glanced from post to post, half certain that Hank would leap out from behind one. Her forefinger stroked the front trigger. She brushed her thumb across the upper hammer, tempted to pull it back but resisting the urge.
Don’t want to flinch and shoot Finley.
Halting beside Batty, Finley moved her light up and down the body. Then she shone it on Jim. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Okay, I guess.’ A moment later, he looked down at his stained belly and said, ‘I don’t much like the blood on me. Makes me itchy.’
‘I’ll be back,’ Finley told him. She turned off her flashlight and stuffed it into the rear pocket of her shorts. She threw her knife down. It stuck in Batty a couple of inches below his navel.
‘Jesus H. Christ,’ Abilene muttered.
Finley smirked up at her. ‘Want to keep it in easy reach.’
‘That’s sick,’ Vivian said.
‘Hey, I don’t hear Batty complaining.’ With that, she stepped over to his feet, crouched and grabbed his ankles. She straightened up, raising them. Ankles clutched against her hips, she walked sideways. The body turned, then began to slide as she staggered backward, dragging it.
Abilene glimpsed the smears left on the floor.
Batty’s arms trailed behind as if raised overhead in surrender. His breasts wobbled. Then darkness masked him as Vivian’s light went away to illuminate the area beyond Finley.
Abilene was glad she couldn’t see him now.
He was here to get us, she reminded herself. But that didn’t help the heavy sickness she felt.
He wouldn’t have wanted to get us if we hadn’t gone to his place and robbed him and killed his cat and hurt him.
We did this to him.
But maybe he was evil and maybe we did the right thing, killing him.
I didn’t kill him, she told herself. It was Finley’s doing.
Finley knew it was him, but she shot him anyway.
Maybe we’re lucky she did.
But it’s all so horrible. And disgusting. And maybe we’ll end up paying for it.
Maybe Hank’s the one meant to collect.
With the thought of Hank, Abilene’s guilt and revulsion were submerged by fear. She swung her shotgun toward Finley, who might have been a character from one of those plays Vivian had taken them to in New York - a girl struggling to drag a body across the stage, illuminated by a single spotlight.
In front of the registration desk, Finley straightened up and let go of Batty’s feet. The legs dropped. Twin thuds as the heels struck the floor.
Finley stood over the body, panting for breath. ‘This is… far as he goes.’
‘That’s fine,’ Cora said. ‘Get back up here.’
‘In a minute.’ She lifted the front of her shirt and wiped her face. Then she bent over the body. She pulled out her knife and wiped its blade on a leg of her shorts. ‘Don’t go anywhere, Batshit.’
‘Cut the comedy,’ Cora said.
Finley grinned up at her.
‘Come on,’ Abilene said.
‘Hold your water.’ Finley headed back the way she’d come. Vivian’s light stayed on her, and she didn’t bother to take out her own flashlight. Nor did she bother to look around. She strode boldly toward Jim as if she’d forgotten all about the possibility that his brother might be lurking nearby.
‘Keep your eyes open,’ Abilene warned.
‘Hank’s not here yet. He would’ve jumped me by now.’
She’s probably right about that, Abilene thought.
‘He might show up any second,’ Vivian said.
‘If he does, Hickok’ll blast him. Right?’
Finley stopped in front of Jim. Standing there in a puddle of Batty’s blood, she took off her shirt.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Cora snapped.
‘Just gonna clean him up a little,’ Finley said, and slid the knife down the waistband at her hip.
‘Are you out of your gourd?’ Abilene blurted.
‘Christ, Fin,’ Vivian said.
‘Get back up here,’ Cora ordered.
‘In a minute. Don’t get your shorts in an uproar.’ She started rubbing Jim. Her back blocked Abilene’s view of exactly what she was doing, but she seemed to be mopping his belly with the wadded shirt. She stood very straight. Her shoulders rocked a little with the movement of her arms. The skin of her back, shiny with perspiration, slid over undulating muscles and shoulder blades. Her hips swayed slightly from side to side.
She’s taking her sweet time about it, Abilene thought.
This is more than just wiping off the blood.
The balled shirt came out from between the bodies, wrapped around Finley’s left hand. It disappeared behind Jim. Finley’s other hand caressed his cheek. Tilting back her head, she eased herself forward.
‘She’s kissing him,’ Vivian blurted.
Not just kissing him - writhing, sliding herself against his bare skin.
‘Damn it!’ Cora blurted. ‘Finley!’
She ignored Cora.
‘Somebody better go down and break them up.’
‘Yeah,’ Abilene murmured.
Jim’s arms went around Finley. His hands drifted up and down her back, caressing her. They slipped inside her shorts.
‘He isn’t tied,’ Cora said.
Doesn’t seem to bother Finley, Abilene thought.
‘He wasn’t tied up all afternoon,’ Vivian whispered.
‘I know, but… Finley!’
Jim’s hands came out of her shorts, caressed her back, her sides.
The fingers of his left hand wrapped her knife.
‘Watch out!’ Abilene shouted as Jim started to draw out the blade.
Finley grabbed his wrist, clamped it against her side. Her mouth broke away from his. ‘Jim!’ she gasped. ‘What’re you…?’
Jim drove her backward, right arm squeezing her tight to his Ixxly. Finley squirmed, kicked wildly.
Abilene thumbed back the shotgun hammer. But the only target was Jim’s face beside Finley’s head. She held fire and then u was too late to shoot.
They were both out of sight beneath the balcony’s overhang.
‘Fuck!’ Cora yelled.
Abilene leaned over the railing. Couldn’t see them.
Jump?
Vivian had already thought of that. She had one leg on the railing.
‘Don’t!’ Cora warned.
From below came sounds of a struggle: gasps, grunts, quick smacks of skin against skin, thuds of bodies striking the wall or floor.
‘Get down and help her!’ Cora blurted. ‘Quick! But don’t jump, for Godsake.’
Vivian swung her leg back down from the railing and started to run.
‘Take this.’ Abilene shoved the shotgun, stock first, into Cora’s hands. ‘Cover us.’ She rushed past her and raced along the balcony behind Vivian.
‘Cover you?’ Cora called.
‘Hank!’ she shouted.
Hank? If there is a Hank.
She wished she’d kept the shotgun, but she was already leaping down the stairs. Too late to go back for it. And Hank might show up. Cora can watch our backs for us.
Vivian grabbed the newel post and swung herself away from the stairs. She dashed across the lobby, the beam of her flashlight bouncing through the darkness ahead of her.
She hasn’t got any weapon at all, Abilene realized.
Remembering her own, she grabbed the handle as she jumped off the last three stairs. She couldn’t see the floor. But it found her feet, almost knocking them out from under her. She stumbled, regained her balance, then jerked the knife from her skirt and ran toward Vivian’s skittering light.
She switched the knife to her right hand.
God, what if we’re too late?
Finley’s a wildcat. Maybe she’s
already nailed the bastard.
Maybe she’s dead. Split open like Helen.
A support beam rushed out of the darkness. Abilene tried to dodge it. Her left shoulder pounded it. She cried out as the blow spun her around. She staggered backward, fell. The floor hammered her rump. Then she was up again, running toward Vivian’s light.
The light was steady, now. Motionless. Casting a bright cone on Jim and Finley.
She stopped running. There was no longer any need to rush.
She halted beside Vivian. The floor under her shoes was slick with Batty’s blood.
‘What’s going on?’ Cora asked.
Vivian raised the light. Cora was looking down from the balcony straight in front of them. She had gotten up. She was leaning over the rail with her elbows on it, the shotgun in her hands.
Nobody answered her question.
The light returned to Jim and Finley.
He was on his knees behind her limp body. She lay on her back, eyes shut, her head raised off the floor, held up by Jim’s fist clenched in her hair. His other hand pressed the knife blade against her throat.
Abilene saw no blood on Finley’s skin or on the floor beside her.
He hasn’t cut her, she thought. Not yet.
But he’d done something to her. She was out cold.
Or dead.
No, not dead. Her belly was moving slightly up and down.
She’s breathing.
‘Is Finley okay?’ Cora asked.
‘I think so,’ Abilene muttered.
‘Drop yer knife,’ Jim said.
Throw it at him?
She’d tried that before, but only managed to wound his leg. If she threw it and missed, he would cut Finley’s throat.
Even if I hit him, she thought, it won’t kill him fast enough.
‘He’ll still have time to kill Finley.
‘Drop yer knife,’ he told her again. ‘Do it!’
She opened her hand. The knife fell and clattered against the floor in front of her.
‘Kick it off somewhere. Get rid a the thing.’
She stepped forward and swept the knife away with her foot. It skidded spinning across the floor and vanished in the dark. ‘Now stay put,’ he said. Tilting back his head, he glared at the underside of the balcony floor. ‘Cora, don’t ya try nothin’ or Finley gets herself cut open. Ya hear me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on over here, Vivian.’
‘What do you want?’ she asked, her voice trembling.
‘Get under here with me. Do what I tell ya.’ He pressed the knife tighter against Finley’s throat. The way it dented her skin, Abilene expected blood to pour out from under its edge. But this is Finley’s knife, she reminded herself. The one tugged from the top of the totem pole.
Dull as it might be, she thought, it’ll do the job if he tries harder.
Vivian took a step forward.
‘Don’t go,’ Cora warned from above.
‘He’ll kill Finley.’
‘He can’t get you. Not if you stay put.’
Vivian looked up at her, then started forward again.
‘Don’t!’
She didn’t halt until she was standing beneath the edge of the balcony. ‘I’ll do whatever you want,’ she told Jim. ‘Just leave her alone.’
He lowered Finley’s head to the floor and freed his fingers from her hair, but kept the knife against her throat. ‘Come here ’n gimme yer light.’
She stepped up to the side of Finley’s body, bent down, handed the flashlight to Jim, and straightened up. Then she took a step backward.
‘Don’t go nowhere.’ He shone the light on her. ‘Just stay put ’n take off yer stuff.’
‘What stuff?’
‘I wanta look atcha. All over. Like I seen ya yesterday.’ Vivian balanced on one foot to pull off her shoe and sock.
‘Did you kill Helen?’ Abilene asked.
‘Sure did.’
‘What about Hank?’
‘Ain’t no Hank. He’s deader’n hell. Killed him my own self three summers ago.’
Vivian switched feet and pulled off her other shoe.
‘You killed Hank?’ Abilene asked.
‘Killed the whole bunch.’
‘Your own family?'
Vivian peeled off her sock and let it fall.
‘Some fun, huh?’ Jim said. Though Abilene couldn’t see his face beyond the flashlight trained on Vivian, she knew he must be grinning. ‘Ain’t had that kinda fun since I was a kid. But I guess this is gonna be a whole bunch better. Now get yer shirt off, Vivian. Whatcha waitin’ for?’
She pulled her shirt up, drew it over her head, slipped her arms out of it and tossed it aside.
‘Yeah,’ Jim said. ‘Yeah. Yer the best a the lot. Nice. That other, she was a pig.’
‘You’re the pig,’ Abilene said.
The light swung away from Vivian. Abilene squinted and turned her head away.
‘Gonna take care a you later. Gonna save you till last. Ya hurt me, ya bitch. Gonna hurt you till ya squeal.’
The threat turned her insides hot and squirmy.
He can’t get me, she told herself. Not if I stay right here. He comes out for me and Cora’ll blast him.
‘Come and get me,’ she said.
‘I ain’t stupid.’ His light returned to Vivian. ‘Who told ya t’stop?’
She unfastened her white shorts. She bent over, pulling them down. She stepped out of them.
‘Ya ain’t done yet.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked.
‘The fun of it. I been achin’ t’do you. Just achin’. Get ’ em off.’ Vivian slipped her panties down to her ankles.
The light roamed slowly down her body. ‘Yeah. Yer a real beauty. Never had me a gal the likes a you.’
The brilliant disk of the flashlight’s head rose higher off the floor.
He’s standing up.
He aimed the beam downward. It lit his legs and Finley’s motionless body as he stepped over her.
‘Cora! ’ Abilene shouted. She clapped her hands. ‘Viv, down! Hit the deck!’
CHAPTER FORTY
Jim gasped, ‘Hey!’ His flashlight followed Vivian as she flung herself sideways, diving for the floor, and Cora launched the shotgun.
Abilene braced her legs. She reached high. The shotgun came down at her fast, stock to the left, muzzles to the right. It smacked her hands. She grabbed hold as the impact knocked her back a step.
Light stabbed her eyes.
‘Oh no ya don’t!’ Jim yelled, charging her.
She clamped the stock to her left side, searched for the trigger, swept the barrels toward the blinding light only a yard in front of its muzzles. Found the trigger at the same instant something hit the barrels with a ringing clang and the light went dead.
The shotgun lurched sideways as she pulled its trigger.
The detonation crashed, stunning her ears.
In the muzzle flash, she glimpsed Jim leaping at her, the barrels off to his side, his arms up, the dark flashlight in his right hand, the knife in his left.
Even as she caught the brief look at him, the recoil of the blast was ramming the shotgun up and back, jerking its forestock from her grip, snapping her trapped index finger with its trigger guard. She cried out in pain and then Jim hit her.
The weapon flew from her side.
Jim plowed her through the blackness. She felt his arms wrap around her. She slammed the floor, the knife and flashlight pounding into her back. She grunted with the impact. Jim gasped and she knew he was hurt - at least a little - at least his fingers.
‘What’s going on?’ Cora’s voice, sharp with alarm. ‘What’s happening down there?’
She got no answer.
Jim struggled to pull his hands out from under Abilene.
She punched the side of his face.
The knife turned. Its edge pushed against her. She bucked, trying to throw Jim off. And shrieked as the blade ripped across her j
ust below the shoulder blade.
‘Abilene!’ Cora called.
The flashlight was still under her back but the knife was gone.
‘Viv? Finley?’
She flung her arm up, hoping to ward off the blade, not knowing where it was.
From off to the side came quick footfalls and huffing breath.
Jim yelped and tumbled off her. There were thumps, gasps.
Abilene rolled over, scurried toward the sounds.
A smack like a fist hitting flesh. A grunt. A whimper from Vivian. More sounds of blows landing against skin.
She hurled herself forward, arms spread. Her cheek bumped something. She clamped her arms tight around the body in her way, realizing her mistake when she felt breasts against her left arm, realized that Vivian had been on top of Jim.
Together, they plunged through the darkness. A quick thud jolted Vivian. She flinched and went limp, but fell a little more before the floor stopped her and her shoulder rammed Abilene’s cheek.
Abilene’s left hand was trapped under Vivian’s armpit. As she pulled it free, wincing at the pain of her broken finger, she reached up with her other hand. Touched Vivian’s face, her hair. Found the wood of a support post.
I drove her right into it!
‘Hold on!’ Cora called.
And Abilene felt fabric rub against her shin. One of her legs was on Vivian’s leg, but the other, she suddenly realized, was stretched across Jim.
Why hadn’t he grabbed her yet?
Had Vivian been up there, pounding on him so hard that she’d dazed him?
He must still be out of it!
Pushing herself off Vivian, she scurried backward and dug her knee into the denim. Jim let out a grunt. As she crawled onto him, she heard a distant thump, a surprised cry of pain, then loud tumbling sounds.
‘Cora?’ she shouted.
‘Shit! Shit!'
She straddled Jim. He squirmed, but so far he wasn’t striking at her. She slid her hands over his chest, felt it rising and falling as he panted for air. The rope suspender didn’t seem to be there, but that wasn’t what she was searching for. She found his shoulders.
The knife had been in his left hand.
‘What’s happening?’ Cora called. Her voice sounded shaky.
Abilene ran her right hand down Jim’s left shoulder and along his arm. The arm was sticking straight out away from his side, bent at the elbow. She slid her hand up the slick skin, past his wrist to his bunched fingers. She didn’t need to feel the knife to know it was still in his fist. She pinned his wrist to the floor.