Fiends

    The driver’s door flew open. The revolver came in, swinging. Marty jerked her hand away an instant before the barrel hammered the steering wheel where her fingers had been. The horn went silent.

    ‘I’m gonna fix you for that. Fix you real good. Sit up! We gotta get out of here.’

    He jumped into the car and slammed the door.

    ‘Shut your door, damn it! I could’ve fucked that girl, you stupid bitch. Shut it!’ His fist shot sideways, pounding Marty’s arm as she leaned away. She pulled the door shut. Willy started the engine and backed up.

    The headbeams lit the boy and girl. Their bodies were motionless, but Marty knew they were alive.

    Alive and lucky.

    Willy’s car rolled over the bumpy road, out of the woods, onto the main road.

    ‘Where’d that other car go?’ Willy asked.

    ‘I wouldn’t know.’

    ‘It was coming.’

    ‘Maybe it turned off.’

    ‘You said a whole bunch were coming.’

    ‘Maybe I was wrong.’

    ‘I oughta kill you.’

    She looked out her window. There was nothing to see but dark woods.

    She looked at her forearm and saw several places where splinters from the door had torn into her skin. She didn’t seem to be bleeding, but the area around the cuts felt tender and sore.

    Compared to the rest of her body, her arm was in good shape. Dizzying throbs pounded through her head. The roof of her mouth, cut by the gun sight, felt ragged and painful at the touch of her tongue. The front tooth was crooked and sharp. Her stomach seemed hollow and sour. Underneath the jersey and shorts, her skin itched because she’d still been wet when Willy made her put them on.

    You’re in great shape, kid.

    At least he didn’t rape the girl.

    Thank God.

    Marty slipped a hand down the back of her shorts and scratched her buttocks. They felt clammy.

    ‘Do you mind if I get in the back seat?’ she asked. ‘I want to lie down.’

    ‘Go on.’

    She turned around, crawled awkwardly over the back of the front seat, and dropped onto the rear seat.

    ‘Don’t try and pull anything,’ Willy warned. ‘Remember who’s in the trunk.’

    ‘I remember.’

    Putting her back to Willy, she curled onto her side and pillowed her head on her arm just above the splinter cuts.

    She wanted to take off the damp clothes so that she could get dry.

    But she didn’t move.

    He’ll look around and see me.

    So what? she thought. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen me naked. Anyhow, he’ll only be able to see my back. And what’s he going to do about it?

    Trembling slightly, Marty struggled out of her jersey. Then she pulled the shorts down to her knees.

    The warm night air blowing through the windows rushed against her skin, soothing it, caressing away the itchy dampness.

    Willy didn’t make a comment, didn’t touch her.

    He doesn’t even know.

    The air kept blowing against her, and soon the pains of the body no longer mattered. Only the warm dry smoothness of the moving air mattered. After a while, she fell asleep.

    In her dream, Dan was late coming home from work. Apparently, she was married to him. And he was late. And she was worried. But suddenly the front door opened, and Dan came into the bright sunny room. He was naked.

    ‘Where are your clothes?’ Marty asked.

    ‘I had to take them off and leave them in the trunk. They’re all bloody.’

    Now she noticed that Dan was all bloody.

    ‘What happened?’ she asked, not terribly concerned. But curious.

    ‘Oh, I had a little run-in with one of your old boyfriends.’

    ‘So, it’s his blood?

    ‘Mine. But I’m all right.’

    He came toward her, arms spread out to hug her. His blood would get all over her. But she didn’t mind. She was naked, too. She could simply take a shower. So she opened her arms for him.

    Instead of stepping into her arms, he moved a hand up the back of her leg.

    Which seemed an odd trick, since he was in front of her.

    His fingers delved into the crevice of her rump.

    Marty suddenly woke up and felt a hand back there. She flinched rigid. A finger thrust at her anus.

    ‘Bastard!’ she yelled.

    Willy laughed.

    Marty swung an arm down behind her, grabbed Willy by the wrist and jerked his hand away. Still clutching it, she flopped onto her back. Willy was twisted sideways in the driver’s seat, watching her over his shoulder.

    ‘Let go,’ he said.

    Clutching his arm with both hands, she tugged it down and backward.

    Willy cried out and seemed to rise higher in his seat.

    ‘Fucking bitch! I’ll kill you.' Then he suddenly turned his head forward and yelled, ‘SHIT!’

    The brakes shrieked.

    Marty flew forward and let go of his arm.

    The car jerked, throwing her off the seat. She landed on the narrow floor. As she tried to get up, a whining skid sent her sprawling.

    Somewhere, a horn blasted. A cry of brakes surged through the night.

    But not from Willy’s car.

    Willy’s car.

    Marty braced herself for the impact.

    It didn’t come.

    Silence came instead.

    The car stopped.

    She took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

    Nearby, two doors slammed. Then boots scuffled across the asphalt.

    Marty thought about getting up from the floor.

    But then the footsteps halted near Willy’s side of the car and a man said, ‘Look what we got here! Got a babe here, butt-naked.’ He sounded excited.

    ‘Sure as hell,’ said a second voice, also male. It came from the passenger side of the car. ‘Hey, honey,’ it said. ‘Honey, you all right there?’

    She didn’t move, didn’t say a word.

    ‘I think she’s out of it, Stu.’

    ‘So’s this guy.’

    ‘How come? We didn’t hit ’em.’

    ‘Reckon they’re stoned.’

    ‘Yeah, bet that’s it.’

    ‘Damn near got us killed, fuckin’ drug fiends.’

    ‘Let’s fix ’em.’

    ‘Fuckers damn near killed us, we oughta fix ’em good.’