Fiends

    It was then that she saw the dark, glossy stock. She pushed some clothes aside. Propped against a back corner of the closet stood a double-barreled shotgun. Sweeping hangers away, Marty pressed between two clean shirts. They felt cool and fresh on her skin. She hoped that the blood stains on her back were dry.

    Her hand closed around the wide, side-by-side barrels. She lifted. The shotgun was heavy. With her arm outstretched, she could barely raise it off the floor. So she dragged it out of the closet.

    The shotgun had two triggers. It also had a hammer at the back of each barrel. There was a lever between the hammers. She pressed it sideways with her thumb.

    The barrels suddenly dropped, nearly wrenching the weapon from her grip. They hung toward the floor, connected to the stock by a hinge. In each chamber was a round, brass disk with a little nub in the center.

    It’s loaded.

    Marty rested the barrels against the floor, then lifted the stock until the latch snapped. The shotgun was whole again. She returned it to the closet and straightened the hangers in front of it.

    Then she put on the robe. It was far too big. She rolled up its sleeves and tied its cloth belt.

***

    Jack was still gone when she went into the bathroom. She took a long shower. Then she dried herself carefully, surprised by the number of cuts and bruises she discovered.

    She put on the robe and tied its belt snugly. There was a comb by the sink. She did the best she could with her hair, and opened the bathroom door.

    Jack looked up from a magazine. ‘How you doing?’ he asked.

    ‘A lot better than a few hours ago.’

    ‘Glad to hear it.’ He unrolled a leather pouch and started loading tobacco into his pipe.

    ‘Sure is nice of you to help me.’ She sat on a rocker across from him. ‘Do you mind me borrowing your robe?’

    ‘Not at all.’

    ‘My things are a mess.’

    ‘I noticed.’ He struck a match and sucked its flame down to the surface of the tobacco. ‘Did you sleep well?’

    ‘Great.’

    Jack tamped down the loose ash in his pipe and lit another match. As he drew the flame into the briar bowl, he looked at Marty and raised his eyebrows. He blew a cloud of smoke.

    ‘Smells like a cake baking,’ Marty said. ‘A chocolate cake.’

    Jack shrugged.

    ‘Would it be all right if I use your telephone? I’d like to call my parents and let them know I’m okay.’

    ‘Help yourself.’

    ‘I’ll call collect.’

    ‘No need.’

    The telephone was on a lamp table at the end of the sofa. Marty stood up and went over to it. She picked up the handset, then tapped in the numbers.

    Sitting down on the sofa, she listened to the ringing.

    Someone picked up. ‘Hello?’ asked her father. He sounded tense. ‘Hi, Dad.’

    ‘Marty! My God! Are you all right?’

    ‘I’m okay.’

    ‘What in the name of God…?’

    ‘I was kidnapped.’

    ‘Kidnapped?’

    ‘I just got away a little while ago. I’m all right. You and Mom can stop worrying about me.’

    ‘We’ve been basket cases.’

    ‘It’s all right now. I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but…’

    ‘Where are you? Where are you calling from?’

    ‘A place in the woods. Anyway, I’m fine. I’ve got to get going, now.’

    ‘Marty…’

    ‘Give my love to Mom.’

    ‘Marty, for…’

    ‘Bye for now, Dad,’ she said, and hung up.

    ‘Short but sweet,’ she said to Jack, and tried to smile. ‘I just didn’t want to get into it, you know?’ She made a small laugh. ‘Besides, it was long distance and you were paying.’

    ‘You were actually kidnapped?’ Jack asked, and puffed on his pipe.

    ‘Yeah.’

    ‘Guess we’d better make a call to the police.’

    ‘Could it wait? I’m still… I don’t know. I feel like I need some time, or…’

    ‘The sooner you get to the police, the sooner they’ll put your kidnappers out of commission.’

    ‘Kidnapper. Only one.’

    ‘Don’t you think you should call the police?’

    Marty looked into Jack’s eyes. They were gentle, confident, comforting. He seemed like a man who knew things and could handle tough situations. She would be safe with him. ‘How about tomorrow?’ she asked.

    ‘Fine with me.’

    ‘Can I stay here till then?’

    ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.’

    ‘Really? As long as I want?’

    ‘Sure.’ He grinned and puffed his pipe. ‘Long as you behave yourself.’

34

    Willy took a red bandanna out of his jeans and wiped the sweat off his face. ‘Hotter than boiled piss,’ he said.

    But the shack was just ahead. He would be there in a minute or so. About time! Two hours was too damn long to be tromping through the boonies, especially in this kind of heat.

    He was glad he’d done it, though. Now he was sure they were alone. No sign of humanity anywhere nearby. He sure had found himself a great place for a hideout - or Dewey had.

    I oughta drop Dewey a card, he though. ‘Hello from your old stomping grounds,’ he said aloud.

    The girl, apparently hearing him, lifted her head. She was still standing, arms high, under the tree. And still on her feet to keep her weight off the handcuffs.

    ‘Hi, sweet stuff. Miss me?’

    She squinted at him and said nothing.

    ‘Looks like you got yourself a little sun,’ Willy said, and laughed.

    Where she’d had a tan before, her skin now had a deep, rosy glow. Where her skin had been white, she now appeared to be wearing a bright red bikini.

    Willy dragged a fingernail down her breast.

    She flinched and made a hissing sound between her teeth.

    The scratch from his fingernail looked blue-white for a moment, then went red.

    ‘Hurt?’Willy asked.

    ‘Yes.’

    ‘Tough titty.’ He laughed.