The Chosen

already tied her hands behind her back. “Christ, Zy. You sure made a mess of yourself. Get cleaned up, will you? We’ve got to pop this blow stand.”

Zyra shook her head. “It’s blow this pop stand, Lemi. Get your quips right.”

He glanced up from the girl’s shagged head. “What’s a quip?”

So stupid, Zyra concluded. All men were. Her pretty bare feet left scarlet footprints to the bathroom. She showered quickly, turning her face and breasts into the cool spray. “Blub, blub, blub—bye,” she gestured, and watched the redneck’s blood swirl down the crusty drain.

She put her clothes back on as Lemi inspected the girl, who he’d lain out on the bed. He appraised her meticulously, like a housewife fussing over which melon was the ripest at the Safeway. “Hmm,” he considered. He rubbed some of her mousy lank blond hair between his fingers. “What a rat’s nest. We’re gonna have to do something with this.” Then he patted her buttocks. “And I’ve seen better asses, that’s for damn sure.”

“Quit complaining,” Zyra scolded, buttoning her fancy inlaid blouse. “We’re lucky to have her at all.”

“And look how skinny she is—Christ!” Lemi turned her over, frowning. “Practically just skin and bones.”

“We’ll get some meat on her.”

“Hope so.” He gave one of her breasts a squeeze, and seemed more satisfied. “Decent pair of tits, though, for such a lightweight. Firm” He patted her pubis. “Nice bush, too.”

“She’ll do just fine, Lemi,” Zyra exasperated. “How was she? You tried her out, didn’t you?”

“’Course I tried her out. Not bad. Tight.”

Zyra rolled her eyes. “Shit, Lemi, an elephant’d be tight, as hung as you are.”

Lemi chuckled. “She was pretty fiesty at first. But once old Lemi boy got in there with the rig—that took the fight out of her and fast. Not a half-bad tumble, as far as girls around here go.”

Zyra shook her head again. Men could be such pompous assholes, like having a big dick made them special. Zyra figured Lemi had more brains in his glans than his skull. She took a moment to look down at the girl. Zyra tried to feel sorry for her, but why should she? It wasn’t her fault it was a cruel world, was it?

The girl’s eyes bulged in terror, her thin chest heaved. She whined beneath the duct-tape gag as Lemi lashed her ankles and rolled her up in the sheets. “Get the stiff,” he said. “We gotta…blow…this…pop stand.” He scratched his head. “What a dumb quip.”

He carried the girl out to the van. Zyra went back into the living room. That was pretty dumb too. Living room? Dying room, she thought, smiling. She could still feel a tingle between her long, firm legs.

The redneck looked pallid as jack cheese, now that most of his blood had drained out of him. Zyra picked him up by his ankles, and dragged him like a big bag of leaves out of the bungalow.

The air had some nip to it; winter grew close. An errant breeze braced her, whistling through the trees. Zyra rolled the corpse into the back of the van alongside the girl. Then she slammed the doors shut.

“Start her up.” Lemi shivered in his flannel shirt. “I’ll take care of the joint.”

Hurry up! It’s cold! She gunned the van’s engine,