The Killing Kind

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

March 27

The guy had stabbed him three or four times, at least. Twice in the arm, once in the side, and another time in the leg. The wounds all hurt like hell, but none of them were too deep. No mortal blow had been struck yet. Rob came at him with the knife again, a wild look on his face as he slashed down toward Chuck’s chest. He looked almost as crazy as the girls now. Maybe he wasn’t a killer by nature, but he was on the verge of becoming one by necessity. Chuck rolled again and got out of the way just before the knife came down and thunked into the floor. He heard a sound of exertion. Instinct made Chuck roll back over before Rob could pry the knife out of the floor. He launched a fist that landed with sledgehammer force on the guy’s jaw and made him let go of the knife and go flying backward. Rob landed on his back and didn’t move. Maybe he was out cold. He’d hit the motherfucker hard enough. Chuck grabbed the knife and yanked it out of the floor.

He heard footsteps pounding up the staircase outside.

Shit!

He sliced through the last of the tape binding his left leg to the chair and got to his feet just as Missy and Julie came sprinting through the balcony door, dripping water and trailing wet sand behind them. Missy saw Rob unconscious on the floor and screamed.

“No! Rob!”

Julie pointed the gun at him. “Drop it.”

The adrenaline rush that had carried him this far began to ebb. He opened his hand and let the knife fall to the floor. He hated giving up his only weapon, but it was his only real option. Gun versus knife. No contest.

Missy dashed past him and dropped to her knees next to Rob.

Julie sneered. “Pick that chair up and sit the fuck down.”

Chuck snatched the chair up and slammed it down on the floor. He dropped into it and crossed his arms, glaring at Julie, the insolent curl of his mouth feeling like a silent dare. Go ahead, bitch, pull the trigger.

Julie smirked. “Hey, Chuck?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you wanna know where Zoe is?”

Chuck felt a cold weight settle inside him. He sat very still. A feeling of dread like nothing he’d ever known worked its way through his bones and turned his blood to ice. He didn’t want to hear this. He knew the truth in his guts, but he didn’t want to hear it. It made him feel hopeless. Like nothing at all mattered anymore.

“She’s in the ocean, Chuck.”

Julie watched the contortions of his facial muscles and laughed. Her grin conveyed pure joy. She was dripping. Her denim cutoffs and halter were soaked through. A fading sheen of water glimmered on her bare scalp.

“Yeah. She’s in the ocean. And she’s not out for a swim.”

Chuck stared at her slender throat. She was so young. Still a child, really. But he ached to get his hands around her lovely neck and crush the life from her body. The muscles in his arms and legs were clenched to the point of pain. He was a bomb ready to go off and the girl saw that.

She was still smiling. “She’s chum, Chuck. You know? Fish food?”

Chuck’s breathing came faster and faster through his clenched teeth.

“We drowned her.”

A sob surprised him. He was perched on the verge of an explosion of deadly violence, but his grief for Zoe was instantaneous and powerful. Another sob shuddered out of him, followed by another and another.

We drowned her.

He knew she wasn’t lying to mess with his head. Her eager leer spoke the truth as plainly as her words. She and Missy had killed Zoe. Had held her under the water and laughed while she died. Chuck could only too clearly imagine the helpless, hopeless, awful horror of it from Zoe’s perspective.

Tears spilled down his cheeks.

Julie giggled. “I’ve killed a bunch of people lately, but I think Zoe was the most fun. If I was a guy, I would’ve gotten my rocks off, big-time.”

Annalisa had been whimpering quietly for the last several minutes, but the news of her friend’s terrible death rallied her. “You evil cunt! You evil, twisted, sick piece of fucking filth! Zoe was better than all of you.” Her voice grew thick with emotion, but stayed strong instead of turning shrill. Chuck feared for her, but he was proud of her, too. This took serious guts. “You’re not fit to lick the shit off her shoes, you bald fucking skank.”

A fast-moving cloud passed across Julie’s face, a subtle darkening that was there and gone in the space of a second. Then she was smiling again. Keeping a wary eye on Chuck, she approached the line of chairs and placed the barrel of the gun against Sean Hewitt’s forehead.

A low, cracking whine escaped Annalisa’s throat.

“This one’s your boyfriend, right?”

Annalisa shook her head. “No. No.”

Chuck watched Julie’s finger curl around the trigger and knew he had to do something. Sean’s whole body was shaking. Bound up in all that tape, he looked like a convict strapped to an electric chair. His bottom lip trembled uncontrollably as he stared up at Julie’s unforgiving face and struggled to voice a plea. Chuck decided he’d take a lunge at her. Enough of this shit. It had to stop. One more big breath to prime himself and-

Julie’s slender finger squeezed the trigger.

The gun’s bang caught Chuck off guard. He toppled sideways off his chair and saw a rain of blood and brains fly out the back of Sean Hewitt’s head. Julie laughed and kicked the dead man’s chair over as Annalisa screamed and screamed. Julie laughed some more, but when Annalisa kept screaming, the sound coming from her own throat shifted to mock the sound. She leaned down in front of Annalisa and screamed in her face. The ever-escalating volume of the crazy girl’s screams easily eclipsed the noise Annalisa was making, and soon the bound woman’s screams gave way to more subdued whimpers and sobs.

“Sean…Sean…”

Julie giggled.

Chuck hated that sound. She did it a lot and it made her sound like the brattiest little girl on the schoolyard.

She whipped the butt of the.38 across Annalisa’s burned cheek, making her scream again.

Yet another of those perverse giggles. “Sean’s dead, baby.” Julie leaned close to Annalisa again, mouth almost up against her ear as her tone turned lilting and mocking. “Dead, dead, dead.”

Chuck hadn’t moved from the floor after landing there in the wake of Sean’s murder. He was afraid to move. Not out of concern for his own life. That had stopped mattering the moment he knew Zoe was dead. But there was still the matter of revenge. These fuckers had to pay. And pay hard. But he wasn’t in a good position to make a play. Julie was preoccupied with Annalisa at the moment, but he knew any sudden movement would make that gun swing his way. He needed a distraction of some kind, something to divert her attention long enough to get himself in position again. And the second it happened-if it happened-he was gonna come at her with everything he had.

He would not hesitate.

Not this time.

He’d fucked up before and Sean was dead as a result.

Movement beyond where Julie was standing caught his attention. Missy had managed to rouse Rob. He was sitting up and she was kneeling next to him, a soothing hand at the back of his head. His head wobbled. He looked woozy.

Julie looked at them. “He gonna be okay?”

Missy’s attention stayed focused on Rob as she replied. “Yeah. I think so. He’s lucky his jaw isn’t broken.”

Julie and Missy kept talking. Missy’s enthusiasm for the evening’s ghoulish festivities seemed to have waned. Her man was hurt. That confused Chuck. So they were both fucking him? Weird. A psycho threesome. Whatever. They could all rot together in the same putrid grave once he was done with them. Happily damned forever after. They were still chatting as Julie flipped open the.38’s cylinder and knelt next to a big tote bag one of them had brought to the party. She reached into the bag and pulled out a white box. She opened the box and Chuck saw a glint of silver.

More bullets.

She picked up a few and slid one into an open chamber.

Now!

Chuck rolled almost soundlessly onto his stomach, braced his palms on the floor, pushed himself up, planted his feet, allowed his muscles the briefest of moments to coil, and launched himself at Julie’s back. Rob saw him coming and raised a shaking finger in warning, but it was too late. He slammed into Julie’s back, turning his head and drilling a shoulder between her shoulder blades. The gun flew from her hand and the handful of bullets went skittering across the hardwood floor. Someone screamed. Missy. Chuck drove Julie to the floor, pounding the wind from her as he landed on top of her with his full weight. He heard footsteps coming at him. Fast. Missy again. He surged upward, to his knees, and just managed to twist far enough to avoid a killing slash from the hunting knife. The blade scraped across his chest, raking his shirt open, and drawing a thin line of surface fire through his flesh. Blood streamed from the shallow wound as he cocked his fist back and unleashed another haymaker, this one connecting with the side of Missy’s head. He felt her ear mash flat beneath his fist and then she was stumbling across the room. She tripped over Rob and crashed to the floor.

Chuck glanced down.

Julie was still pinned beneath him, but was trying to wriggle free.

We drowned her.

He grabbed her by the throat and jerked her upright. Her throat was so slender his big hand fit almost all the way around her neck. She clawed at his hand as he tightened his grip, her long nails piercing his flesh and drawing more blood. He was bleeding from so many places. It didn’t matter. All he had to do was stay conscious just long enough to kill these people. He shifted position, turning her so that her back was to him. She gurgled and her clawing grew more frantic. He wrapped his free arm around her head, grasped the back of her head with his palm, and began to twist. The intent was to break her neck. Julie thrashed and tried to kick at him with her feet, but the effort was ineffectual. He continued to twist and apply pressure. He could feel how close the girl’s neck was to giving way. Soon he’d hear the crack of snapping bone and she’d fall limp in his arms. He hated how much he looked forward to it. This was brutal and ugly, something no man should ever have to do. But it was also vengeance. Zoe was dead. This was her killer. She deserved to die.

Something hit his back and clung to him. He felt limbs wrapping around him and something tearing at one of his ears. Missy. Again. He’d made the mistake of turning his back to her. He’d thought she was out cold. Another mistake. He felt Missy’s teeth clamp around his right earlobe and knew he wouldn’t have the luxury of making additional mistakes. He let go of Julie in the same moment Missy’s teeth pierced his flesh. She fell away from him, coughed, and spluttered. Missy gave her head a savage yank and his earlobe came off in her mouth. Chuck screamed and tried to shake her loose as blood poured down his neck. She spat his earlobe out and laughed, sounding like the world champion lunatic of all time.

Julie was on her hands and knees now and was scanning the floor for a weapon.

Rob was also making an effort to get up and join the fight. He managed to get to his feet, wobbled, and dropped to his knees again.

Chuck didn’t have much time. Soon one of them would recover the gun or one of the knives and come at him. And then it would all be over. He would be dead and maybe on his way to some kind of ethereal reunion with Zoe.

And her killers would have gotten away with her murder.

He stopped trying to shake Missy loose. It was a losing battle, the equivalent of running out the clock in a football game. She just had to keep her hands on the ball long enough to help her teammates score the winning touchdown. Her teeth were on him again, digging into his neck. He propelled himself backward and they stumbled over Sean Hewitt’s corpse and the tipped over chair it was strapped to. Then they were falling backward and Missy let go of him an instant before they crashed to the floor.

Chuck rolled onto his back.

Julie was coming at him, was almost upon him. Her face was twisted in a snarl and the hunting knife was in her upraised right hand. Instinct made him raise a hand in defense and the tip of the knife pierced his palm and scraped across bone. He screamed and yanked his hand away.

The knife came with it.

It was still embedded in his flesh.

Julie yelped and leaped at him.

Chuck screamed in pain as he pulled the knife out and tried to slash at her. The blade slid down the length of her upper arm and buried itself in the crook of her elbow. His grip on the knife wasn’t good and it came out of his hand as she twisted away from him. She shook her arm and the knife went flying.

Missy was on her feet again.

Adrenaline and rage could only carry Chuck so far. He was wounded in too many places and was moving slower now. He could almost see that game clock counting down to 0:00. Missy moved far faster than he could and seized the knife.

He got to his feet.

His only option now was to run for it and hope to elude them long enough to get free.

Then Julie hit him from behind and he dropped to his knees.

Missy jabbed him in the stomach with the knife.

Game over.

He fell over and rolled onto his back. Julie was standing over him, a triumphant sneer on her face. She was holding the heavy brass lamp from the end table. She raised it again and slammed it into his face.

Lights out.

“We should finish him.”

“No.”

“Why, for fuck’s sake?”

Missy had her gun again. She didn’t like being without it. She finished filling the cylinder with fresh bullets and snapped it shut. “Because I want him to live.”

Julie was beside herself with rage. Her whole body was shaking in the aftermath of the fight and her close call. “The motherfucker tried to break my fucking neck, Roxie!”

“Don’t call me that anymore. You know my real name.”

Julie gaped at her. “What the fuck!? I don’t give a shit about your fucking name. I wanna kill this guy and I’m gonna do it.”

Missy pointed the gun at her. “No. You’re not.”

Julie stared at the gun. “Are you seriously pointing that thing at me?” Her voice was quieter now, almost subdued. “I thought we were friends.”

Missy laughed. “Yeah. I like you. It’s been fun hanging with you these last few days. But there’s something I never told you about myself.”

Julie scowled. “What?”

“I don’t like to share.”

Missy squeezed the.38’s trigger. A bullet ripped through Julie’s shoulder and a spatter of blood arced through the air behind her. Julie hit the floor and squealed in agony. Missy approached her and stood over her, pointed the gun down at her. Julie looked up at her and blubbered, opened her mouth to plead for her life.

Missy shot her again.

She stopped moving.

“Holy shit. Why did you do that?”

Missy turned and saw that Rob was on his feet again and was at last managing to stay that way. She went to him and gingerly touched his swollen jaw, making him wince. “Does that hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Stupid question, huh?”

“Yeah. Now how about answering mine?”

Missy shrugged. “No big mystery. Like I told her, I don’t like to share. She should have been satisfied with that one sympathy fuck, but that obviously wasn’t happening. I’m sure you didn’t mind having the little bitch rip your clothes off every few hours. That sort of pisses me off, you want to know the truth.”

Rob’s face reddened. “I…I’m sorry.”

Missy touched his jaw again, this time not quite as gently. “I could make you very sorry.”

He winced again but didn’t look away from her as he said, “I know.”

“You belong to me.”

“I know.”

“And no one else.”

“I know.”

She smiled. “I love you, Rob.”

“I…” Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled to speak. “I…love you…Missy.”

“I know you do, baby.” She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. She took one of his hands and curled his fingers around the butt of the gun. “But it’s time you proved yourself to me.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She stepped away from him and nodded at the two vacationers still strapped to chairs. “Finish them.”

Rob looked at them. His face twisted. “Oh God…”

Rob stared at the gun in his hand. It didn’t look right there. It didn’t fill him with the sick sense of power he imagined Roxie-Missy-derived from it. He knew what it could do, had witnessed its killing power too many times. It was a dangerous, despicable thing and holding it filled him with loathing. He couldn’t imagine putting it to a human being’s head and pulling the trigger. And yet it was what Missy wanted from him. There didn’t seem to be a way out of it. Despite her profession of love, he suspected there was a strong chance she would kill him if he didn’t do as she wished.

Her expression was hard, devoid of mercy. “No more hanging out on the sidelines letting me do all the work. No more illusions of being better than me just because you haven’t gotten your hands dirty.”

“I don’t think I’m better than you.”

“Prove it. Kill them.”

Rob looked at the woman, grimacing at the sight of her burned face. One side of that face was still beautiful. The sickening contrast made his stomach twist. He was suddenly glad Julie was dead. No one capable of inflicting this level of cruelty deserved to live. But Missy was just as cruel. Didn’t that mean she deserved to die, too?

He looked at the gun.

Then looked at the woman again. She watched him through bleary eyes, whimpering softly but otherwise waiting quietly for the end. He detected resignation in her expression. She was at peace with the idea of dying, would probably welcome it by now. So killing her could almost be seen as an act of mercy. But that was just a rationalization. Her wound looked awful, but it was hardly fatal. She could recover, maybe have plastic surgery, and go on with her life. It would be a life forever haunted by this night, but at least she would have a chance.

So he was at a crossroads. Again.

He could do what Missy wanted-kill this poor woman and the guy with the mangled hands.

Or he could do the right thing. Finally. For once.

He swallowed hard and pointed the gun at Missy. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled and moved closer. “It’s okay. It’s sort of what I expected.”

Her fist smashed across his bruised jaw.

Rob howled and staggered away from her, the gun falling from his hand. He stumbled and fell backward onto his ass. By the time he was able to sit up again, Missy had scooped up the gun and was standing over him. He tensed, waiting for her to point it at him and put a big fucking hole in his head.

Instead, she cracked the butt of the gun against the crown of his skull.

Rob wobbled and fell over.

His vision blurred as he lay on his side and watched her walk away from him. Everything went black for a moment. His eyes fluttered open again and he saw that Missy had set the chair formerly occupied by Chuck in front of the woman with the burned face.

His vision grew foggy again.

Blackness was descending.

But that was okay.

He didn’t want to see this.

“He should have shot you. It would’ve been easier for you than this.”

The woman met her gaze. She didn’t seem afraid now. Missy didn’t like that. Amazingly, the unburned side of her face almost seemed to smile. “It doesn’t matter how I die. God will have mercy on my soul and the souls of my friends.”

Missy snorted. “God? Really? How ridiculous. Religion is all meaningless bullshit, you know. I’m gonna stick this knife in you.” She gestured with the hunting knife. The gun was back in the tote bag. She didn’t think she’d need it again tonight. “Like, way up inside you. And it is going to hurt, let me tell you. A lot. At some point your heart will stop beating. Brain function will stop shortly after that. And that will be the end of you. Your essence won’t continue in some other place. You’ll be over.”

The woman’s hideous half smile didn’t falter. “No. I won’t. I wish you could feel what I feel right now. The presence of the eternal. You’d be on your knees and praying with me.”

“Feel this.”

Missy pushed the knife in up under the woman’s sternum. Just an inch at first, holding it there and letting her feel it. She wasn’t smiling anymore. She started breathing faster and looked down at the knife. Her voice emerged as a whine. “It hurts.”

Missy smiled. “I know. Didn’t I tell you?”

She pushed the knife in another inch.

The woman cried louder and began to beg. “Please…”

Missy laughed. “I’ve been waiting for that. You’d like me to finish it fast, wouldn’t you? That’d be nice, huh?”

The woman looked her in the eye. “Yes. Please…”

Missy made a tsk-tsk sound. “Wow, this just isn’t your night.” She twisted the knife a little, increasing the volume of the woman’s whimpering. She laughed. “Nothing’s working out the way you want.”

She was able to keep it up another fifteen or so minutes, slowly sliding the knife in inch by agonizing inch, savoring the way the woman’s eyes danced in their sockets as her pain and sense of desperation continued to increase.

Then she was gone.

She played the same game with the guy with the mangled fingers.

That just left Chuck.

He was still sprawled across the space where the sofa had been. She knelt next to him and watched the rise and fall of his chest. He was bleeding from a lot of places, but he’d been lucky. None of the wounds alone would kill him. Loss of blood, however, just might. She’d have to call 911 on her way out.

She wanted him to live for a couple of reasons. He’d fought hard to survive and had very nearly beat them. He was tough. She was impressed. But he was still the guy who’d insulted her. So living would be his punishment. For the rest of his life, he would feel the crushing weight of guilt.

She leaned down to kiss him on the mouth. “Good luck, Chuck. You’ll need it.”

She left him then and retrieved her tote bag. She cast a final, lingering glance around the room.

Another house full of dead.

A strong sense of déjà vu made her shiver.

She wouldn’t be burning this house down, though.

Her gaze lingered on Rob’s unconscious form a moment longer. A pang of regret flashed through her. She really did care about him. Him, and no one else. But he wasn’t fit for life with her. At least not yet.

She turned away from him and walked out of the house.