Dead and Alive

CHAPTER 8

Bucky and Janet Guitreau stood side by side on the dark back lawn of the Bennet house, drinking their neighbors’ best Cabernet. Bucky held a bottle in each hand, and so did Janet. He alternated between a swig from the left bottle and a swig from the right.

Gradually the warm, heavy rain rinsed Janet clean of Yancy and Helene.

“You were so right,” Bucky said. “They really are pussies. Did it feel as good as doing the pizza guy?”

“Oh, it felt better. It felt like a hundred times better.”

“You were really amazing.”

“I thought you might join in,” Janet said.

“I’d rather have one of my own to do.”

“Are you ready to do one of your own?”

“I might be almost ready. Things are happening to me.”

“Things are still happening to me, too,” Janet said.

“Truly? Wow. I would’ve thought you’re already … liberated.”

“You remember I watched that TV guy twice?”

“Dr. Phil?”

“Yeah. That show made no sense to me.”

“You said it was gibberish.”

“But now I understand. I’m starting to find myself.”

“Find yourself — in what sense?” Bucky asked.

Janet tossed an empty wine bottle onto the lawn.

She said, “My purpose, my meaning, my place in the world.”

“That sounds good.”

“It is good. I’m quickly discovering my PCVs.”

“What’re they?”

“My personal core values. You can’t be of use to yourself or to the community until you live faithfully by your PCVs.”

Bucky pitched an empty wine bottle across the yard. He had drunk more than a bottle and a half of wine in ten minutes, but because of his superb metabolism, he would be lucky to get a mild buzz from it.

“One of the things happening to me,” he said, “is I’m losing the education in law I got from direct-to-brain data downloading.”

“You’re the district attorney,” she said.

“I know. But now I’m not sure what habeas corpus means.”

“It means ‘have the body.’ It’s a writ requiring a person to be brought to a court or a judge before his liberty can be restrained. It’s a protection against illegal imprisonment.”

“Seems stupid.”

“It is stupid,” Janet agreed.

“If you just kill him, you don’t have to bother with the judge, the court, or the prison.”

“Exactly.” Janet finished the last of her wine and discarded the second bottle. She began to undress.

“What’re you doing?” Bucky asked.

“I need to be naked when I kill the next ones. It feels right.”

“Does it feel right just for the next house or is it maybe one of your personal core values?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it is a PCV. I’ll have to wait and see.”

Toward the back of the yard, a shadow moved through shadows. A pair of eyes gleamed, then faded into rain and gloom.

“What’s the matter?” Janet asked.

“I think someone’s back there in the yard, watching.”

“I don’t care. Let him watch. Modesty isn’t one of my PCVs.”

“You look good naked,” Bucky said.

“I feel good. It feels so natural.”

“That’s odd. Because we aren’t natural. We’re man-made.”

“For the first time, I don’t feel artificial,” Janet said.

“How does it feel not to feel artificial?”

“It feels good. You should get naked, too.”

“I’m not there yet,” Bucky demurred. “I still know what nolo contendere means, and amicus curiae. But, you know, as long as I keep my clothes on, I think I’m ready to kill one of them.”