Erin’s hand resumed caressing my thigh. “It might be anywhere,” she said. “Maybe back at the house, even. If you wanted to go back to the house, you’d be sure to find something. Cooking pots you could fill with water. Pitchers, waste baskets…”
“What about a fire extinguisher?” I asked.
“We keep one on the boat,” Erin said.
“Not in the house, though?”
“We’ve been in these cages for almost a month,” Alice pointed out. “Who knows where anything is?”
“But I bet you could find something and fill it with water back at the house.”
“You’d better do it, too,” Alice said. “I mean, Billie’s gonna get burnt to a crisp if you don’t have a way to put her out. She’s all fueled up and ready to go.”
“Maybe I’d better do that,” I admitted.
Suddenly, I knew where to find a bucket. Back at the mansion, over near the veranda stairs. Earlier, I’d seen Thelma put out her torch in it.
I was awfully reluctant to leave, though. I felt sort of safe, hidden between the cages, the girls on both sides of me.
And Erin’s hand kept roaming my leg.
Her hand was our secret. She was letting it stray pretty far up my thigh.
It was driving me a little crazy.
Anyway, I couldn’t just stand up and walk away.
“What else should I get?” I asked, just to delay things.
“What do you mean?” Alice asked.
What if I reach between the bars and touch Erin?
“Back at the house,” I said. “Is there anything else? Something I should get while I’m there?”
“Like what?” Erin asked.
If I try anything funny, she might quit. Just leave her alone. Let her do what she wants.
Where was I?
“Are there any guns in the house?” I asked.
“No way,” Erin said.
“That’s one reason we left Los Angeles,” Alice said. “To get away from things like guns.”
“I could sure use one now,” I said. “What about bows and arrows?”
“No.”
“Just get the water,” Alice said. “You’d better hurry, too. I mean, there’s no telling. He might go ahead and light her up, just for the fun of it.”
Erin’s hand eased up higher than ever. I flinched and caught my breath. Her hand flew off like a startled bird. And crashed against a bar of her cage with a low, ringing thud. She yelped.
“Jeez, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
“My hand.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“What happened?” Alice asked.
“Nothing,” Erin told her. “I bumped the bars.”
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“We were holding hands,” I explained. Which sounded better, I thought, than the truth.
“You shouldn’t go holding her hand,” Alice said. “You don’t know where it’s been.”
“Very funny,” Erin said.
“I’d better get going,” I said.
“Not so fast. Rupie? Come here.”
The Fire Storm
“Rupie? Come herrrrre.”
The voice made me cringe. For one thing, it was too loud. For another, it belonged to Connie, and she didn’t sound much less crazy than last time.
“My God,” I muttered.
Alice was already scurrying across her cage, apparently hoping to shush her.
On my knees, I grabbed my spear and machete.
“What’re you gonna do?” Erin whispered.
“I don’t know. Make her be quiet.”
“I know you’re there, Rupie! Now come on, pull your cock outa that bitch and came on over. I been waiting for you!”
I scrambled out from between the cages. On my feet but hunched low, I dashed through the grass behind Alice’s cage.
“What is it with you, boy?”
“Be quiet!” Alice gasped.
“When you aren’t fucking the old ladies, you’re fucking the babies.”
“Shut up!” Alice pleaded. Her voice came from my left, and not far ahead. I slowed down.
“Why not me? You some kinda fucking geek?”
“Be quiet, Connie!” I snapped.
“RUPERT! GREETINGS!”
Wesley’s shout slammed through me, knocking my breath out, stopping me cold.
It had come from far away.
From where he apparently still stood on top of Billie’s cage.
Sounding cheerful, Connie sang out, “Look who’s fucked now.”
“Before you make any rash decisions,” Wesley called, “let me advise you that the lives of the ladies are in your hands. I’m fully prepared to annihilate them all, Rupert, unless you give me your full cooperation.”
I felt sick and weak. I seemed to be trembling all over. My heart pounded hard and terribly fast.
“Do you hear me?” Wesley called.
I didn’t answer.
“In that case, do you have any last words for Billie? I took the trouble of dousing her with gasoline. She’ll make one hell of a torch. You’ll be needing sunglasses, little buddy. Better put ’em on!”
I shouted, “What do you want?”
“Go to the front of the cages,” he commanded.
“Okay.”
I found the bars at the back of Alice’s cage. Keeping track of them with my left arm, I rounded the corner. I rushed between the cages. On one side, Alice said, “Be careful.”
On the other, Connie hurried along with me. This much closer to Wesley’s torch, the light was somewhat better. Connie’s shape was fairly visible. Her eyes, mouth, nipples and what I took to be several injuries looked like holes or rips in the pale canvas of her skin. She seemed to be leaping sideways to stay with me.
As she leaped along, she ranted. “See what you get? Huh? This is what happens, Rupie. This is what you get. You were mine. Mine! You blew it. Blew it big-time, boy. Now you’re gonna pay. You’re fucked. Big-time. Wesley’s gonna ream…”
She ran out of cage. One moment she was springing along beside me, the next she wasn’t. I heard the bars ring from the impact. She let out a grunt, sounding surprised and hurt.
I looked back and saw her prancing away from the bars as if she’d been hurled back by a giant, invisible spring. Then she slammed down on the floor of her cage.
She sounded like a slab of steak tossed onto a counter top.
Which made me realize the floor of her cage must be concrete. Until that moment, I hadn’t given any real thought to the subject. I’d just assumed the gals must have earth and bars under their feet.
Not that it seemed to matter, either way.
Concrete was probably better when the cages needed cleaning. It would hurt you more, however, if you fell on it.
Connie appeared to be sprawled on her back. She wasn’t trying to get up.
Had she knocked herself out?
I really didn’t care, except to be glad that she, at least, might not be causing me any more trouble for a while.
God knows, she’d already caused enough.
After her crash, I slowed down but kept moving. For a couple of moments, I forgot about Wesley.
Then he called, “There you are!”
I turned toward the sound of his voice.
And there he was. Standing on top of Billie’s cage—legs spread, a blazing torch raised in his right hand, his left hand propped on his hip. In the firelight, his body gleamed like gold. A golden statue. Hercules gone to flab.
He’d lost the chest bandage; maybe in his fall down the stairs. The fall must’ve opened his wound, too. The split across the front of his left boob looked like a grim mouth, puffy-lipped and dribbling blood as if it had recently caught a fist. It made thin, dark streamers down his chest and belly, down to his leather belt. A few strands of blood had worked their way down his left thigh.
The wound obviously didn’t bother him much. Neither did I. He was getting a charge out of the whole situation. Two things gave it away: his grin and his hard-on.