all of its attention to the soft genitals ...
The preacher’s puny erection had died long since.
Piercing screams told them when the cougar made its first strike. The big male dealt with the innards, shaking its head like a cat with a rat, until the bunch of steaming gut stretched like elastic and broke free from its moorings.
Another shake and the cat dragged the bloodied entrails outside of the body, gathering the hot, dripping mess into his powerful maw. It nosed upward, a jaw-full of the dripping trophy glistening yellow in the dawn light.
Gobs of dark blood dripped from the prize, down the cougar’s chops and made slimy trails on the grass. The cat lay down, took the kill between its paws and started to eat.
Curls of warm mist rose up from around the feast.
In seconds, Angus was covered in a roiling mound of tawny bodies, each hungry cat fighting for its share of the kill.
Don’t
Too late. Deed’s already done ...
The cats squabbled among themselves, each fighting to tear off its own share of the preacher. One, its nose bloodied from the kill, carried a dark skinny arm between its jaws. It moved away from the others and settled down to devour its trophy.
“Oh, God ...” breathed Bert. “The guy was horrible—sick and mad. But he didn’t deserve to die like this ...”
Rick wanted to vomit, but the carnage happening before them was like a magnet. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Show’s over, Rick,” Bert said. “Let’s go before I barf all over the place.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get outa here,” he agreed.
They hurried through the cabin, fastening their belts as they went and adjusting their hunting knives. They found their packs where they’d dropped them earlier and thrust their arms through the straps.
It was sun-up by the time they hit the trail again and they didn’t stop until they’d reached the fork in the path. They were exhausted, breathless, but at least they were alive. They had their packs—and their knives.
“I just wish I hadn’t seen that eaten head, Rick. That coulda been us, y’know? Thank God we’re still around to tell the tale,” Bert said.
“You can say that again.” Rick’s injured hand was painful and he wondered how long it’d be before they hit the stream again. He could use some cold water to ease the pain and the swelling.
“... could use a beer, too,” he muttered.
“And me.”
“Yeah, one for the road and how ’bout a nice juicy burger on the side.” He gave a faint grin.
“Christ. Have a heart,” Bert grimaced. “On the other hand, maybe don’t have a heart. Too soon to talk offal after the slaughter-fest down at Chez Angus, don’t you think?”
Gratefully, they looked deep into each other’s eyes and Rick felt a sudden surge of joy. It sure was good to be alive.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s put some miles between us and this crazy place.”
After parting company with Rick and Bert, the girls fell quiet. Trudging on in silence, they already felt lonesome. The goddamn emptiness of this whole terrain was getting to them so much, it was scary.
Andrea spoke first. “I don’t know that we did the right thing, Bonnie. Maybe we should have insisted we all stay together.”
“What are you, nuts or something? They practically told us to go our own ways. Or weren’t you listening to those people?”
“Sure, I know that. But I could’ve persuaded Rick. Y’know?”
“Yeah. I bet,” Bonnie sneered. “You made a fool of yourself back there with Rick. You know that, Andrea, don’t you?”
“You mean you were jealous of the way he came onto me?”
“Jealous? You threw yourself at him. Practically handed yourself to him on a plate. I’m surprised Bert didn’t kick up about that. I admire her. She’s got a lotta patience, that woman!”
“Oh yeah? Then how come if he loved her so much he invited himself to my tent? Answer me that, why don’cha?”
“Let’s not go over that particular scenario anymore, Andrea. Prbkane! You’re so hung up on yourself I’m surprised you don’t have an orgasm every time you look in the mirror!”
Andrea plumped herself down on a smooth slab of rock. She edged out of her pack and swung it to the ground.
Holy Moses. Was she pooped!
And what’s more, she didn’t like the way the conversation was headed. She could do without all this shit about her and Rick.
With a sigh, she flipped off her ballcap and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.
“Bonnie Jones. If you don’t stop handing me insults like this, I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you. It’s too darn hot to argue and I don’t know why we’re traveling by ourselves, anyway. We coulda gone on ahead of the others—or trailed behind. We needn’t have gone with them ...”
Andrea was almost whining now. She mopped her brow again.
Then lifted the hem of her gray T-shirt, bent her head down and wiped all of her face with it. It didn’t help much; sweat was still rolling down her cheeks.
Bonnie tried to reason with her. “Okay, okay. But you heard them say they’d rather travel alone. Rick specifically said they wanted some time to themselves.
“And if it helps, I don’t know why we had to come out here into the boonies, anyway. Come to think about it, it was a dumb thing to do. But we did discuss it, Andrea, before we set out. When we had taco and fries and cola at Pepe’s Pits-top, the day you took your social history books back to the library and they were overdue. Remember? We talked it over and agreed that a week’s vacation by ourselves, alone in the Sierras, would clinch it.”
Andrea sniffed at the front of her T-shirt.
She screwed up her eyes and peered at Bonnie, standing before her, hands on hips, with her back to the sun.
“Clinch what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Whether we could make it together, dummy. Christ, Andrea. Don’t make me spell it out.”
Bonnie huffed in frustration and edged her way out of her backpack. Pushing out her chest, she bent at the knees and lowered the bulky pack to the ground. She collapsed on the smooth rock shelf beside Andrea, stretched out her sturdy legs and examined the toes of her boots ...
With a small sigh of resignation she began, “Look, Andrea, you know how I feel about you. I just hoped that ... you know ... a little time spent together and you’d begin to feel the same about me, too.”
Bonnie warmed to her subject.
“I mean, you seemed to get off on me, at the first. Now you go all girly and start making out with the first goddamn available male you see.”
Andrea sounded repentant. “Sorry, Bonnie. I’ve been a grade-A idiot, I know. But I can’t help myself. Maybe ... well, the thing is, maybe I’m not cut out to be a dyke, after wall.”
She traced circles on her smooth, tanned knee. Bonnie watched her do it and thought how much she’d like to take her in her arms.
