Chapter 6
Suzanne opened her eyes and stared around. She was still lying on the couch in the living room. Yvonne was next to her, bathing her forehead with a wet washcloth. She had on a terry-cloth robe which she recognized as Carole's. Carole was in the chair, opposite. Muffled voices came from the kitchen and Suzanne lifted her head and looked in that direction. Sam, Brett, John Grant and another young man were in there, drinking beer and talking softly.
"She's awake," Yvonne said, smiling down at her.
Sam immediately came in, and knelt down beside her, putting his arm around her. She hugged him and tearfully kissed him on the lips. "Oh, Sam... "
"It's all right, Suzanne, it's all right."
"Where's...?"
"He's not here."
Sam's voice was blunt.
"Yes, but where is he?"
"He won't hurt you anymore."
Suzanne's eyes opened wide and she stifled a gasp.
"You didn't" Sam laughed.
"No, I didn't kill him, if that's what you're thinking," he said. "But he probably won't be around for a while."
Yvonne chuckled in her usual throaty tones.
"It sure did my heart good to see what these guys did to that little bastard," she said. "I bet he hasn't had a beating like that in years."
"You... " Suzanne's voice faltered. "I mean, what did you do to him?" Carole chimed-in: "Honey, they beat the shit out of him. And then they took him down to the alley and dumped him. He may still be lying there for all we know. Or care."
"How do you feel?" asked Yvonne. Suzanne struggled to an upright position.
"I'm okay," she said. "A little stiff and sore, but okay." She smiled. "I wondered where the hell you were." Sam patted her arm.
"I got your message loud and clear," he told her. "That was good thinking on your part. I ran for the car, and then I thought there might be more'n one here, so I went back and started calling for reinforcements. It took me awhile but I finally got these guys here, but, first, I had to pick 'em up. And then we came on down as fast as we could."
"But Yvonne and Carole left before you called me."
"I know we did," said Carole, "but would you believe we had a flat just as we turned that corner from your street into the freeway. Let me tell you, having a flat on the freeway is no fun. I was sitting in the car, waiting, while Yvonne went to look for a gas station that was open. I'd have still been sitting there if Sam hadn't driven-by and seen us. He stopped, picked me up, and then we went looking for Yvonne. That's what took all the time." Suzanne sighed.
"I see. Wow, I was here, trying to fend him off, praying that you'd get here in time to stop him."
"I presume we weren't in time to stop anything?" Sam's voice was strained. "I mean, you didn't have your clothes on, but he was dressed."
Suzanne smiled wryly.
"He had just got dressed and was going to leave when you arrived."
"So he" She nodded. 'Yes, he did. Twice."
He took her in his arms and his eyes were moist.
"Oh, Suzanne, darling... "
"It's all right, Sam. It's all right. I'm all right. A little the worse for wear, but I'm all right." Brett came forward.
"Well, Sam, I guess we'd better be making tracks. We all have early classes in the morning." Sam stood up.
"Sure, sure. And fellows, I can't tell you how grateful I am."
"It was a ball. I haven't beaten-up a hillbilly in years," said John with a laugh. "Anytime." They began moving towards the front door.
"Just a minute," said Sam, and he turned to Suzanne. "Are you feeling well enough to drive home?" She nodded.
"Sure. I can drive home."
"All right. I'll take the guys back and meet you at the house." Grant shook his head. "Nope. We were gonna hitch. No problems. You stay with her. She needs you more'n we do."
"I'm fine," Suzanne insisted. "And it's okay if Sam drives you home. I have my car here." Sam looked at her and then back at the young men.
"Go on, Sam," said Yvonne. "They're not going to get many rides this late. Take them home." He shook his head.
"I don't like the idea of Suzanne driving home alone," he said, doggedly. "I mean, I know she'll be safe and all that, but she may faint again or something."
"All right," said Carole, 'Yvonne and me will ride with her. We have to pick up our car anyway. In fact... " She paused and looked at Suzanne. "If it's all right, maybe Yvonne and I could stay over in the guest room and then pick up our car in the morning. Would that be all right?"
"Fine," said Suzanne. 'You go on, Sam. I'll come with Yvonne and Carole."
"Okay. Fine." He turned to leave. "I'll be home in about forty-five minutes. So if you're not there in an hour, I'm calling the police." Suzanne laughed.
"We'll be there. I just want a cup of coffee first, and to clean up a little. Then we'll take off. So don't worry."
"Okay." He came forward, kissed her again and left with the others. As the door closed behind them, Yvonne let out a big sigh of relief.
"Wow, what a night," she murmured, "I'll tell you; when Sam and Carole picked me up, and I heard what had happened, I just about broke water. Christ, I was picturing you raped to a pulp."
Suzanne smiled.
"It wasn't bad," she admitted. "He got violent once or twice but most of the time he was very nice. In fact," She paused, seeing their incredulous faces, "don't get me wrong, but if he hadn't started-in on the sex, it would've been a nice get-together."
Yvonne banged her fist on the arm of the couch.
"Jesus Christ," she exploded. "Thank God your husband isn't here. What do you mean, Suzanne? Are you that hung-up on him? Incidentally, we put two-and-two together when we saw the pizza box. He was the delivery boy, wasn't he?"
Suzanne nodded.
"Yes. I got hungry. I hadn't eaten since noon, and so I ordered a pizza. I opened the door, and" She shrugged.
Carole nodded. "We figured that." Yvonne snorted.
"I still can't understand your having one bit of sympathy for a little fucker like him. He came here legitimately tonight, but ended-up having sex with you. You weren't all willing and eager by any chance, were you?"
Suzanne bit her lip.
"I guess I can't blame you for thinking that," she said, quietly. "It wasn't fun when he got violent. But before anything happened, we sat here together and shared the pizza, and I kept thinking if he were only five years older, and... "
"I think I'll puke," said Yvonne, bluntly. "Next thing you'll be saying is you're going to divorce Sam and marry this little bastard. Suzanne, what's he got that's so goddamn appealing?" Carole snickered.
"You know the answer to that one, dear," she said. "It's that telephone pole in his pants." Yvonne sighed.
"Listen, Suzanne, I've known you a long time, and I've watched you grow from a sweet, naive little girl into a frustrated adolescent, then into a mature married woman, and now... " She snorted. "Now I think I'm watching the decline and fall of what I thought was a gal with some sense in her head."
"Don't feel that way," said Suzanne, "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm leveling with you. You know too much already for me to try and lie about it now. I do enjoy sex with Donald, but I don't like the violent part. And tonight there were moments when he was very gentle, very loving. He told me he loves me."
Carole laughed loudly.
"Excuse me, I want to put the violins in the stereo," she said. "This is worse than Love Story. You're not going to die of leukemia next, are you, like that stupid broad in the flick?"
"More likely syphilis," snapped Yvonne. "That no-good, trashy stud is probably fucking every whore on Forest Avenue. I'd sure as hell get a thorough checkup from the doctor before you go to bed with Sam again, dear."
"All right, all right," said Suzanne. But I still don't feel bad."
"Crap, what you feel doesn't matter anymore," said Yvonne roughly. "I think you're hung-up on that big-cocked bastard and that's all there is to it. You're probably going to meet him again, and so there's really not much more to talk about. Come on, let's go home, before I really get ill."
She rose, and went to the bedroom. Carole looked over at Suzanne and grinned.
"Don't mind her," she said softly, "she behaves like a mother hen with me, too."
Suzanne reached for a cigarette and lit-up, inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry if it upsets her," she murmured. "But Donald does have his nice side. Nobody's all bad. And I still feel if he were taken out of his environment and given a chance, he'd turn out to be some one worthwhile."
"Stop talking like a sociology major," said Carole. "He's the way he is, and if you're honest with yourself, you'll realize the only thing about him is his cock. Remember, I had a taste of it a year ago, and I still remember it. He's the best-hung stud I've ever seen, and he must be wild for sex, but other than that, what is there? He may use the word 'shit' but I doubt if he knows how to spell it properly." Suzanne nodded.
"I know. I know. That's what makes it so awful."
Yvonne came back, carrying a small overnight bag.
"I've got our toilet things and a change of underwear," she said. "Are we ready?" She sounded her usual pleasant self. She smiled at Suzanne. "Sorry I blew," she said briefly. "Let's forget it, huh?"
"Sure." Suzanne stood up and slipped off the robe reaching for her clothes which were folded up on a chair. Yvonne and Carole stared at her body, which was covered with red weals. "I thought you wanted to clean-up a little, first?" Suzanne stepped into her underwear.
"I'll do that at home," she said. "I just want to get back there. I'll feel better out of here, I think."
"Okay."
In a few minutes Suzanne was dressed and they moved to the door and down the stairs. As they emerged from the building, Yvonne looked up-and-down the sidewalk. "Well, all's clear," she muttered. Carole laughed.
"Stop being paranoiac," she commented. "Crap. I don't trust that little bastard."
"Look, he was beaten-up so bad, I'm willing to bet he's home now, or even in the emergency clinic. Those guys were pretty brutal. I saw him. You were taking care of Suzanne. But I watched, and, by-damn, they pulverized him."
"Good. I hope they cut his cock off."
Suzanne laughed, and walked over to her car, inserting the key in the lock. A few minutes later, with Carole sitting in the back, and Yvonne in front, Suzanne started the motor and the car pulled slowly away from the curb. A few seconds later, unknown to them, another car pulled out and began following them slowly down the street.
"Which way are you going?" asked Carole, curiously, as Suzanne turned up Cass Avenue. "I'm going over to Warren and then west to catch the expressway," was the reply.
"I don't think you can get through," said Yvonne. "They're tearing down all those old buildings, remember."
"Well, if the road's blocked, we can cut across the vacant lots," said Suzanne cheerfully. "It'll save time, and I'm anxious to get home."
"All right."
The car sped down Cass, and turned at Warren Avenue, passing the darkened outlines of the apartment houses on each side. Yvonne stared up as they drove.
"This is really the end of the world," she commented. "I wonder if they'll ever rebuild this area completely."
"I read they planned to expand Wayne over as far as Trumbull," said Carole, "but not for about five years."
"Yeah," said Yvonne cynically. "In the meantime, we put up with boarded-up empty houses that are condemned, half-dilapidated buildings and a slum atmosphere. Christ, this city is too much." Suzanne laughed.
"So why not move out to Farmington?" she asked. "It's clean, pretty and no hillbilly hoods to bother you."
"Maybe so, but it's still a helluva drive. If we lived there, we'd be wasting two hours a day driving back-and-fourth to town. No thanks. I'll put up with the slums, even though I wish they'd get off their butts and speed up this urban renewal."
Up ahead they saw the flashing yellow markers and the outlines of a barricade.
"I told you Warren was blocked-off," said Yvonne.
"Relax," said Suzanne, easing her foot down on the brake. "I can cut-over just this side, go through the alley and over a vacant lot, and catch the service road."
"You like to live dangerously, don't you?" She giggled and swung the wheel over. "Watch it," cried Carole. "There's a car right behind."
"I see it."
Suzanne negotiated the turn and drove slowly up the alley. In the mirror she saw the stabbing circles of headlights behind them.
"That other car must have the same idea."
Carole turned round and stared out the rear window.
"He's sure sitting on our tail," she murmured.
Suzanne swung the wheel to avoid a large hole in the alley and, then, ahead she saw the vacant lot.
She veered to the left and they all swung from side-to-side as the wheels mounted the remains of the sidewalk. The car jerked and jolted across the empty space, which once had been the front yard of a respectable mansion in downtown Detroit.
"Take it easy," said Carole. 'You're not doing your springs any good."
"Oh, hush!"
Suzanne steered around the piles of brick that had been left lying there. Up ahead, she saw the service road leading to the expressway. "We're almost there."
At that moment they heard the roar of an exhaust. The car behind them accelerated and swung round, coming alongside. "That idiot, trying to pass us here," snapped Yvonne, staring out the window. "Must be a bunch of drunks."
Suzanne stepped on the brake. The other car moved forward, then, with a sudden movement, veered to the left, right in front of them. Suzanne jammed her foot on the brake and swung the wheel over, turning away from the other vehicle.
"Christ Almighty!" exploded Yvonne, "they're out of their minds. Watch it, Suzanne."
"I am. I'm" The other car had pulled right across their path. In her headlights, Suzanne saw figures in the front seat and one in the back. With a scream of tires, the car came to a halt, and she gasped as the doors swung open and three figures came tumbling-out. She turned the wheel and tried to move, but a pile of bricks was in the way. Her front wheel hit the obstruction and the car jolted violently.
"For Chris'sake!" Yvonne's voice cut through the air.
Suzanne jammed her foot on the brake and the car lurched to a halt. At that moment, they all saw, in the glow of the headlights, that the three figures were moving towards them. "Oh, God no!"
Suzanne's blood froze as she recognized Ted and Clayton. And coming behind, more slowly, and limping, his face terribly bruised, was Donald.
"Lock the doors!" shrieked Yvonne, and in a flash, her had pressed down the bottoms by the windows. The three young men came up to them, and banged on the windows. "Okay, open up." It was Clayton's voice, thick as though he had been drinking. "Oh, God, what are we to do?"
"Drive on, drive on, dammit."
Yvonne's mind was functioning like a whiplash, but Suzanne was numb with fear.
"Suzanne, get going!" Carole shrieked from the back seat as the pounding on the windows increased in volume.
Suzanne put the car in reverse, and gunned the motor. She felt the car lurch, then start to move, and the tires spin.
"We're stuck," she wailed. "The wheels must be in a hole."
"Keep gunning," snapped Yvonne. "Rock it back-and-forth.
Suzanne pushed down on the gas pedal and slipped the shift lever from reverse to forward. The car began rocking, and slowly, with each jolt, it seemed to grip a little more, and they felt themselves moving backward as she moved the gear to reverse again.
"Quickly, more, more!"
Suzanne was sweating and her hands were trembling, but she continued, and gradually they moved back. Then, with a rush, they were out of the hole, and the car was rocketing backwards. "Okay, okay!"
But before Suzanne could put her foot on the brake, they had rushed back. There was a loud crash as they backed into a small concrete abutment. There was a grinding sound as the back-end lifted and then they came to an abrupt halt.
The three figures ran up to the car, and Suzanne saw that Clayton had a brick in his hand. "Okay, you open up or we're gonna break the windows."
"Forget it," shouted Yvonne, her voice sounding like a bullhorn in the close confines of the car. "The cops'll be here any minute. They patrol this area every ten minutes."
"Tough shit, baby," came Clayton's voice, and a second later, the windshield dissolved into a million cracks as the brick came forcefully. Suzanne screamed and covered her face.
"It's all right, it can't break. It's shatterproof." said Yvonne practically.
"They'll break in and then... oh, oh," Suzanne's voice rose, hysterically. "You comin' out now?"
"No, we're not."
"Quickly, press the horn," said Carole, "That'll scare 'em off."
"Good idea."
Yvonne's hand jammed down on the horn and the raucous sound broke the early morning stillness. They heard muffled curses from the boys, and subdued murmurings. Then the car shook with a metallic clang as they opened the hood, which sprang up, obscuring what was left of their view through the broken windshield.
"Oh, Christ, they're... " Carole began and, at that moment, the noise of the horn ended, leaving them in an unearthly silence.
"They disconnected the battery."
"Okay, any more tricks?"
It was Ted's voice, rough, rasping and filled with hate.
The girls looked at each other, and even Yvonne's normally enigmatic face was creased in an expression of fear. She bit her lip and shook her head.
"I... I don't know what we can do now," she murmured, realizing that the others were looking to her for leadership.
"And you know what they're after," whispered Carole, her voice shaking.
They saw the outlines of a figure approach the driver's window. Then a hand came down and the window shattered, but did not break away from the plastic lining which was standard in all auto glass to prevent lacerations.
Suzanne jerked herself away and screamed.
"Oh, oh, Yvonne... " Her voice rose and she began screaming loudly. Yvonne reached over and slapped her cheek gently. Suzanne subsided.
"Sorry, dear, but this is no time for hysterics." They heard muffled voices and then Clayton's tones rang-out. "Okay, we're gonna flip you over. You still ain't comin' out?" They remained silent.
"They'll never turn this car over," whispered Carole, but her voice betrayed her uncertainty.
"Of course they can," snapped Yvonne. "It's a small car and the back end's already halfway in the air."
Suzanne looked around. The neighborhood was dark. There was nothing but boarded-up houses and demolished shells for four blocks all round them. There was no hope of help from neighbors who might hear their screams.
"We can't sit here while they wreck the car," said Carole. "Even the windows'll break if they push hard enough with a brick or something."
"They're shatterproof," Yvonne insisted.
'Yes, but that only means they don't splinter," said Carole. "They can sure poke a hole in one though, and then they'll get us anyway."
"Tell you what," said Yvonne. "They sure as hell can't grab us all right away. Carole, you're good at running. We'll open the front doors, and while they're grabbing Suzanne and me, you open your door and run like hell. There's a gas station on the corner of Warren and Third. That's only about five blocks. If you make good time, you can get help there.
Suzanne shook her head.
"No, no, she couldn't possibly, Yvonne."
"Okay, what do you suggest?"
"I don't know. I'm terrified. I can't even think."
"All right, then."
They looked outside and saw the three figures standing huddled together a few yards from the car. "Okay, we'll open up," shouted Yvonne. The figures moved over and Ted's voice was heard: "Now you're bein' sensible." Yvonne looked at Suzanne. "Ready. One, two, three."
She and Suzanne opened their doors at the same moment. Clayton reached-in and grabbed Suzanne. Ted was on the other side and he took hold of Yvonne, jerking her out of the car violently.
As they moved, Carole opened her door, slipped out, and leapt-away, running furiously across the vacant lot. Her breath was gasping, and she was trying desperately to watch where she was going. There was no moon and it was difficult to determine where the holes and lumps of concrete were. She heard their shouts, and Donald's voice rose: "Hey, get her, she's beating it." Fear lent speed to her shoes, and Carole leapt over a pile of bricks, and felt solid sidewalk under her. She turned and began running down towards Warren Avenue. Behind her, she heard footsteps. A moment later, Clayton's heavy hand descended on her shoulder, spun her round, and she slipped. She felt the rough concrete tear at her leg and she cried-out in pain. He reached down, jerked her up, and slapped her hard across the face. "Doan you try nothin' like that, you hear, white girl?"
He bent her arm behind her back, and frog-marched her back to where Ted and Donald were holding Suzanne and Yvonne.
"Well, well, now we're all here," drawled Ted, "and I got something to say 'bout the way you beat up my brother here. He's plumb beat to death, you know."
Suzanne looked at Donald and, even in the dim light from the car's headlights, she could see the handsome face, swollen almost beyond recognition. His eyes were almost closed, with large blue patches under each socket, and his lip was cut and bleeding.
"And don't you try no more tricks, like kicking or anything," warned Ted, "because you'll get just what my brother got and you wouldn't want those pretty faces all scarred-up, would you?" He reached in his hip pocket and they heard a click. The silvery blade of a switch-knife gleamed before them. "I might just carve his initials on your faces," Ted continued, leering at them, "But before we do that, we've got a little plan."
He closed the knife and replaced it in his hip pocket.
"I aim to get that son-of-a-bitch who beat up Donald," he said, "But before we take care of him, he's gonna see a little show. He's gonna watch while we all fuck you, baby." He leered at Suzanne again. "You'll have enough cock up your cunt to last you a year, if you live through it, that is.
Suzanne began whimpering.
"Shut up," said Yvonne.
Donald came forward and glared at them.
"We aim to take you all back to Suzanne's," he said, his voice indistinct through his swollen lips. "And we're gonna git that husband of hers. I'm gonna cut his balls off, so help me."
"Okay, okay, into the car," said Clayton. "We'se wastin' time, and I'm in the mood to fuck every one of these white chicks. I dig it when someone's watching, 'specially her husband," and he laughed, obscenely, and bent close to Suzanne. "You reckon your husband'll dig watching me fuck that white pussy of yours?"
She remained silent, her heart beating so loudly she thought she would vomit.
"Okay, where's them rags?"
Ted's voice brought an added prickle of fear to their hearts, and, in a moment, they understood what he meant. Clayton took a dirty, oil-soaked rag from the back seat of their car, tore it into three strips and, very quickly and very effectively, gagged them all. Suzanne almost puked from the smell and taste of the cloth in her mouth and she felt she might faint again.
They were pushed into the other car, Clayton holding Yvonne, Ted holding Suzanne and Carole. Donald got behind the wheel and drove across the lot onto the service road. A few moments later, they were on the expressway leading north to Farmington.
Suzanne had a feeling of complete unreality about their situation. This was something they read about in the Detroit News; something that happened to others, not to her, to Yvonne, to Carole. Yet here they were, gagged and pinned by strong, vicious arms; and they were being taken out to her own house, ostensibly to be raped in front of her husband. Oh, no, this is a nightmare... this isn't happening. This is part of her wild fantasy. She was really back in her own room at home, tossing and turning in her bed, trying to wake up.
"Now let me tell you chicks something," said Clayton, his voice breaking into her reverie. "When we git to your house, Suzanne, we'se all gonna walk up on your porch like we'se makin' a nice friendly visit. You hear?"
Yvonne made an obscene sound through her gag. The boys all laughed.
'Yeah, I'm with you, baby," said Clayton, reaching over and tweaking her breast harshly. She flinched and pulled away but did not cry out: her eyes flashed, conveying her feelings even better than her voice would have done.
"So you'd better behave, you heah? Otherwise it'll be even worse. Ted's jist itchin' to use that switch blade on your pretty faces. And I know he's gonna use it on your husband, Suzanne, and I won't tell you where."
Suzanne felt her gorge rising, and fought to remain calm and conscious. She could picture Ted approaching the bound form of her husband, pulling out his penis and balls, and with a vicious slash, his hand coming down... Oh, God, she mustn't think things like that. This is a nightmare; it's not real. She kept repeating over and-over in her mind, it's not happening, it's not.
She turned and stared out of the car at the houses whizzing-by. Donald was driving very fast. She glanced at the speedometer. It registered 85. Oh, please God, let a cop stop us. Send a traffic cop... send a cop. And she remembered Sam saying once: there's never a cop around when you want one.
The car rushed on through the night and finally turned-off and wound its way through the maze of streets, ending-up in the driveway of her house. Suzanne looked out and saw the living room aglow with light. Sam must be there, sitting, waiting for them, never dreaming that they would have three unwelcome and unexpected visitors.
They climbed out, the boys pushing them in front, holding their arms behind them, and they moved silently up to the porch. Ted pushed Suzanne forward so that she stood first in line. "Okay, where's your key?" he whispered. She shook her head.
"It's in her purse," said Donald, and he grabbed it from her hands and rummaged through it, his hand emerging with the shining key. With a triumphant expression, he inserted it quietly in the lock and turned the handle.
"Okay, in," he said softly, pushing her forward. She stepped into the hallway, and her foot caught on the edge of the sill, and she stumbled noisily forward, trying to keep her balance. She entered the living room, and Sam rose from the couch, his face smiling, and then when he saw the others, he turned white.
"Okay, white boy," said Clayton, "You got company, and you'd better not try anything, otherwise Ted's gonna use his knife sooner than he means to."
Sam backed away, his eyes darting from one to the other. They all came in, and Ted closed the door behind them. He had taken out his switch-knife and was holding the blade dangerously close to Carole's throat.
"Okay, we're gonna have a party," drawled Clayton. "A nude party." He laughed obscenely, and Sam clenched his fists and shook his head, helplessly.
"Oh, God," he murmured.