32
Willy stretched and groaned with lazy pleasure. The sun felt so hot and good. If it weren’t for his bastard of a headache, life would be perfect.
The bitch had really given him a wallop with that gun.
He grinned. He’d really given her a wallop, too. With a different kind of gun.
He opened his eyes, lifted his head and looked down his sweaty body at it. Wouldn’t do at all if it got sunburned. Especially not now, with so much good stuff ahead.
He got off the blanket and walked to his shack. ‘Here I am, sweetums. William the Conqueror.’ He posed in the doorway flexing his muscles.
The girl in the shadows shut her eyes. She lay curled on her side on the mattress, naked, her arms handcuffed behind her back.
Reaching high, Willy plucked a key down from the top of the doorframe. ‘Have you been a good girl?’ he asked, walking toward her.
‘Yes,’ she muttered.
‘Do you want William to let you go?’
Her eyes opened and she nodded.
Willy leaned over her with the key, opened the left cuff, then the right. His fingers came away bloody. He wiped them on the white skin of the girl’s buttocks.
‘Now put on your beautiful dress,’ he told her.
She sat up and brought her arms slowly in front of her. She frowned at her raw, bloody wrists.
‘Oh, did I have the cuffs too tight?’ Willy asked.
‘Where are we going?’ the girl asked.
‘It’s a surprise.’
She tried to pick up her shining, paisley dress, but her hands wouldn’t work. The dress fell. Willy picked it up. She raised her arms, and he put it over them. It drifted down her body.
Willy helped her to stand. Then he fastened every button on the dress.
‘Let’s go outside,’ he said.
As she stepped out the doorway, she raised an arm to shade her face from the noon sun.
‘Bright, huh?’
She said nothing.
Willy picked up his handcuffs and rope, then followed her outside. ‘Go over to that dead tree,’ he told her.
She looked around at him. She glanced at the rope and cuffs in his hand. Then she looked toward the woods that began several yards to the left of the white, barkless poplar.
‘Don’t try to run,’ he said. ‘I’ll just chase you down, and then I’ll
She walked to the dead tree.
‘That’s right. Good girl. Now put out your hands. That's a good girl.’
Her eyes stayed on his eyes, making him a little nervous as he handcuffed her wrists. He knotted the rope to the chain between the bracelets, then flung the coil over a high, thick branch of the poplar. It dropped on the other side. He took the end and began to pull, raising the girl’s arms.
‘I haven’t given you any trouble,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve done everything you asked, no matter how… no matter what it was. Why do you have to hurt me?’
'Cause I like it.’ He tied the rope to the trunk of the dead tree. ‘See how nice I am? I’m leaving you on your feet. Or would you rather sort of
She shook her head.
‘Now guess what I’m going to do,’ he said.
Staring into his eyes, she said, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Come on, guess.’ His hands roamed the shiny, slick cloth. It was already hot from the sun. He felt her body through it.
The girl gritted her teeth.
‘Gonna rip the dress off you,’ Willy said.
‘No, don’t. Please. It was a present. Don’t wreck it.’
He slapped her face.
Then, growling like a dog, sometimes biting the skin underneath, he slowly shredded the dress with his teeth. The girl cried as he ripped. When she finally was naked, he took her from behind with quick hard thrusts that rammed her up off her feet.
Later, he left her hanging in the sun.
He rested in a shaded place near the car and enjoyed the view.
33
When Marty opened her eyes, there was no longer a headache behind them. The curtains rustled with a mild breeze. Light slanted down through the window, laying a slab of gold on the floor. A clock by the bed showed 3:15.
Sitting up, she looked in front of her. A dresser, a closet. Heavy hiking boots stood on the closet floor next to a pair of sneakers. On hangers, she saw a plaid lumberjack coat among many shirts, a dark suit, a colorful sport coat and a white terry-cloth bathrobe.
She got up. The mirror above the dresser threw back her reflection, stunning her. She hardly looked like herself. Her face was swollen and discolored. Her hair was a wild tangle.
Well, her right profile didn’t look too bad. Willy had only struck the left side of her face.
She didn’t want to think about it.
She opened the bedroom door. The living room was darker and cooler than the bedroom. ‘Jack?’ she called softly. No answer came. ‘Jack?’ Nothing. She walked across the rug, then out the front door. He wasn’t on the porch.
He was gone?
Back inside the cabin, she shut the door and locked it. Then she ran to the kitchen and locked the back door. She peaked inside a utility closet. She checked the bathroom. A closet in the living room. Behind all the furniture.
Not looking for Jack anymore.
Searching for Willy.
Shaking and chilled, she shut herself into the bedroom.
‘You’re a fine specimen,’ she told the face in the mirror.
The normal side of her face smiled nervously; the swollen side hardly moved.
Turning around, she stared over her shoulder at the mirror’s image of her back. The knit jersey was torn in a few places midway down. It was stiff and brown near the rips.
She took it off.
The large, square bandage - applied by Jack after carrying her to his cabin - was white except for a tiny dot of blood in its center. All around the bandage, her skin was stained. All the way down to her waist. The shorts had soaked up a lot of blood. She took them off.
Dropping the clothes in a heap, she stepped to the closet. She took down the robe. Its hanger fell, making a tinny
