“I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t contagious.”
“Shit, Devon, I could have told you that. You worry about the weirdest shit, man. You think I’d ever let you catch something like that from somebody? I look after you, don’t I? How come you didn’t just ask me?”
“‘Cause you ain’t no doctor. How would I know you were right?”
“Oh man — I can’t believe the stuff you come up with sometimes. Don’t let him know you did this. Please, Devon — I don’t like it when he hits you, but you keep pulling this kind of shit and he’ll be all over your ass.”
“I don’t care! I don’t care! There’s nothing wrong with it!”
I heard one of them storm out the front door, slamming it hard. Devon, I thought. It was quiet then.
I lay there thinking of a plan to escape. Then I thought about Frank, wishing I could send messages to him by mental telepathy, to let him know I was alive. Silly really, but I wanted to talk to him so badly, I felt a hollow ache over it. Finally, I fell back to sleep.
IT WAS DARK when they came into the room again. Light spilled from the kitchen through the doorway, where one of them stood in silhouette. I could hear the dice rattling.
“Irene.”
It was Devon. I didn’t answer.
“Irene, tell me where the journal is.”
Raney stepped in behind him carrying a propane lantern, which cast long shadows on the walls and ceiling. He had something in his other hand — I couldn’t see what it was.
“Tell me, Irene. You know I don’t want to have to do this. Don’t make me do it, please don’t. Come on, Irene, tell me who has Sammy’s journal.”
This man is not your friend, I told myself. Say anything and they will kill you. Stay alive.
Stay alive, I repeated to myself, as he squatted down next to me.
“Irene, tell me. Where’s the journal?”
I thought of them putting Sammy’s heart on my front porch.
He rolled the dice. I didn’t look.
Raney laughed. “Five.” He set the lantern down and handed something to Devon. I saw then that it was a piece of rubber hose. Devon tapped it in his hand.
Raney picked up the soup bowl and moved it by the door. The whole time, I heard the hose tapping. Raney grabbed my wrists and pulled them over my head. He rolled me over.
The tapping stopped. I heard the hose whistle and then, as if coming from someone else, heard myself cry out as the first blow landed between my shoulder blades.
He waited.
Tap, tap, tap. “Come on, Irene. Tell me. Where is it?”
I didn’t answer.
By the time they left the room, I was drenched in sweat and trembling. Sleep was impossible now.
I wondered how much more I would be able to take. I also wondered if I would be able to force myself to do whatever would be necessary to escape. I remembered what Sarah had said to me — you do what you need to do to survive.
Sleep still eluded me, although I would have welcomed it. I was quickly learning the importance of keeping my mind occupied. Left to wander, it concentrated on my injuries, on emotions I was holding in check, on all that was hopeless in this situation.
So instead, I thought about a sequence of events in Las Piernas that seemed to fit together: Jack Fremont shows up in town, and is reconciled with his mother and son. Shortly after this, the coven changes under the influence of a mysterious stranger and his two assistants.
Mrs. Fremont changes her will. She’s murdered.
Sammy sees the Goat’s forearm. She’s murdered.
I’m seen taking some of Sammy’s things from the shelter — no, I’m still alive. Start over.
No matter how I looked at it, things changed when Jack Fremont came back to Las Piernas. “I don’t care who his mother was,” Devon had said. Could he mean Jack? No one had benefitted from her will as much as Jack. Murray had told me the property was worth a fortune.
“She’s mine.” I thought of the way he had flirted with me in the kitchen.
I allowed my thoughts to go back to Frank. I realized that even my pride could not sustain me much longer through this ordeal, but my desire to be with him again would. Some small article of faith was left in me: I would live. My life with him was not over. I would endure this. I slept at last.
I DON’T REMEMBER the nightmare that made me wake up screaming. Maybe the pain had just finally had its way with me.
The door opened and Raney entered with the lantern. He stood there awhile before I was awake enough to realize he was pointing a gun at me. Devon pushed past him and knelt beside me.
“She’s just had a bad dream, Raney. Put the gun away.”
Raney put the lantern down, smirking at me. He picked up the bucket and carried it out, leaving Devon with me. Gradually, I gathered my wits enough to calm myself. Devon knelt there, staring at me. “You’re so pretty,” he said.
I hadn’t seen my reflection, but I could imagine what I looked like — hair chopped off, face bruised, fat lip, and one eye swollen shut. I laughed. It wasn’t much of a laugh, but he heard it.
