Chapter 9
When Bull opened his eyes, he was at first blinded by a white radiance that was almost painful. Then he realized that he was lying flat on his back, staring up at the moon. He was groggy and he shook his head. It hurt badly. He must have been clubbed or collected a boot heel. He knew the feeling from past experience.
He heard them talking. "I thought you'd never find us!" she said. "Neither did I." That was Richard Bristol's voice. "I've been tearing all over these damned woods. A couple of times I thought I heard you, but I couldn't get oriented. I was never so scared in my life as I was when I heard his car and then you didn't show up."
Bull turned his head toward them. Richard was standing there with what appeared to be some rope in his hand. Laura was standing nearby, still completely naked and apparently unconcerned about the fact.
"Witch," Bull said. "Damned little witch-what are you trying to pull?"
Richard grinned. "He's still alive. I didn't kick him hard enough."
"I'll kick you," Bull said, as he rose up on an elbow "I'm going to take you apart."
Neither of them paid any attention to his threat. "I'm glad he's still alive," Laura said. "I'd be very disappointed to think that he couldn't have a last meal, but a condemned man should at least be given time to say a few prayers."
Fresh apprehension stirred in Bull's guts, but he wasn't beaten and he didn't intend to be. "Then start praying," he said as he rose up on his knees.
Richard turned a little more toward Bull and raised a hand. Bull saw a gleam on dark metal. Richard was holding a small caliber automatic.
"I'm through praying, Bull," he said. "Now it's your turn. Better pray that doesn't last too long, because this may hurt."
Bull froze, thinking, He wouldn't dare! He hasn't got the guts!
"You don't think you could hurt anyone with that little popgun, do you?" he asked.
"That all depends where you point it. Right now it's pointed at your middle, and you haven't got enough fat to stop a slug."
"Now, wait a minute, you two!" Bull came to his feet.
"Want to try taking it away from me, Bull? Come ahead. But the first time you get out of line, I'm going to start popping away with this popgun. I'm going to kill you, Bull, so help me. You know I already told you that."
Bull didn't move. He looked directly into Richard's eyes and measured the threat. The kid hadn't raised his voice once. He was as calm as a butcher surveying :i job that had to be done, but there was an intense, excited look in his eyes, even a happy look.
Bull turned his attention to Laura. She was in much the same state as Richard, except that she seemed even more happily excited. She was smiling and her high breasts-rose and fell perceptibly as she breathed-almost panted. She looked eager for the next move, whatever it might be.
The threat was real.
Just a couple of cheerfully murderous kids. Waiting for a chance or an excuse to have fun killing him.
"You're talking crazy," Bull said, and his usually low smooth voice was high and husky.
"I suppose I am," Richard conceded. "Maybe I am. well, that's tough for you."
"You can't get away with killing me! They're bound to catch you-"
"Maybe so, I wouldn't know. Anyway, that's our problem. You have other things to worry about." He smiled. "I'll tell you what. If you're a real good fellow, Bull, and cooperate, there's a chance-just a hare chance-that you may get out of this alive. So you see, cooperation will be a good policy. Okay?"
Bull glanced from one to the other. "Let me put on my clothes."
"Huh-uh. What do you want your clothes on for? Laura hasn't got her clothes on. Don't you like to be naked with a beautiful girl like Laura? Doesn't she do things to you?"
Laura giggled, and there was something insane about it. "Look at him," she said. "He's not passionate now."
"Take these ropes, Laura. And remember-don't get between him and the gun."
"Wait a minute. I thought I felt something in his pocket." She picked up his pants and drew his cuffs out "How do you like this, Richard?"
"Fine Let's try 'em. Back up, Bull. Back up or well end this here and now."
Bull's legs carried him backward. He seemed to have no control over them. He kept going until he ran into a tree. Laura, the cuffs in hand, walked around behind him
"Raise your hands," Richard commanded. "All the way up and back."
"No."
"Raise them, or," the pistol's muzzle moved down, "the first thing you're going to get shot off is vour big toe."
Bull's hands went up and back on either side of the tree. That was a strain. Cold steel clamped on his left wrist and then on his right. He was captive. Whatever chance he might have had to escape was gone.
"Now the ankles," Richard said, tossing the ropes over beside the tree.
As expertly as if she had practiced, Laura put a tight loop around each ankle, a length or rope between them, another length around the tree, drawing Bull's legs rigid.
"Tight?" Richard.
"He'll never get away."
Richard lowered his pistol, and Laura came out from behind the tree.
She stood, fists on hips, feet wide apart, and breasts heaving, fully revealed in the moonlight. She grinned at him. "How do you like that, Bull? How do you like not being able to get away?" She brought her hands to her breasts and squeezed them. "How do you like this, Bull? Why don't you come and take me?"
Sweat trickled down Bull's face and chest. He didn't know what might happen next, and he was afraid to think what the pair might be building up to.
"Do you think we ought to put him out of his misery, Laura?"
"Oh, yes, but not by killing him, not yet, anyway. Poor Bull can't get at me, so I have to go to him."
She moved to him and rested her body lightly against his. Her torso moved like velvet. "Does that help?" she asked. "Do you like this, Bull? I hope so. If you're going to die, we want you to die happy, you know."
He didn't want that to happen, but that did: his passion returned. As her body touched his like a flame, he began to strain. "Isn't that good?" she said. "Now animal and ready to go, aren't you. Bull?"
Smiling at him, she slipped away. She took a few steps back toward Richard. He reached into his pocket, drew something out, and handed it to her. As she took a step toward him, there was a snicking sound, and Bull saw what Richard had given her.
Six inches of glittering steel.
She took another couple of steps toward him, and his voice came out in more of a croak than a scream: "No!"
"Why, Bull, honey. What's the matter? And what's happening to your passion. That's going ... going ... gone. What a pity."
She took another step toward him.
"No, don't!"
"Bull," Richard said, "if you don't keep your voice down, we'll be forced to finish you off right away and get out of here. Remember what I said about cooperation? The quieter you are, the longer you'll live-maybe another fifty years, maybe an hour. But you must be quiet."
Bull heard something like a whining coming through his tightly pressed lips as he saw Laura raise the knife. There was a stab of pain as the point touched his chest. Then it was like an ice cube was being drawn down his chest. The steel barely touched him, and he dared not look, but he knew it was leaving a thin red furrow.
"Look at me, Bull," Laura said softly. "Look at me."
Bull dared not disobey. He had closed his eyes tightly, but now they opened.
"Look here," she said, pressing the blade tip so that he felt it cut in.
He looked at the shining metal, its point hidden in his skin.
"You're good at hurting people, Bull. Turn about's fair play. Would you like to be hurt here .. she pushed the blade further, then shifted it, "or here...." she shifted the point, stabbing him lightly again, "or here...." She stabbed him in yet another place. Bull gasped at each poke, expecting the knife to go the rest of the way in at any instant.
"Can't make up your mind?" she asked. "Maybe I can help you to decide quickly. Give you some incentive." She reached for him, pulled at him. "Suppose I cut a little at a time-"
A howl of anguish broke from Bull's lips. Trying to escape her, he threw his hips from side to side as hard as he could, and Laura burst out laughing.
"Keep quiet," Richard reminded them.
"Yes, keep quiet, Bull," Laura said. "I don't want to have to kill you too soon. I want you to have an enjoyable evening first."
"Let me go, let me go, let me go!" Bull burst into sobs. Tears coursed down his face. He was in the midst of a nightmare such as he could never have envisioned, and he was increasingly certain that he would never wake up.
"Now, Bull, baby. You and I don't let people go, yon know that-"
"Please, please!"
"But, baby, when we're done with you, you may not want to be let go. You'll rather be dead than alive-the way I'm going to leave you."
"No!"
"Yes, Bull."
She knelt down on one knee, grinned at him and asked, "Want me to kiss you, honey?" Then she started to reach with her left hand. Again, he swung his hips back and forth until Laura brought the knife up to touch his leg. "Don't do that, honey, or you're going to get much more cut up than necessary."
Then he felt her hand catch him, and the blade came up. She began to saw.
"No-o-o-ol"
He began to be sick, and Laura jumped back from him, laughing.
Richard had been scared stiff when at first he hadn't been able to locate Laura and Bull, and he had come close to shooting the man through the head when he found them. He wouldn't have been at all surprised if the impact of his heel had killed the man, but Bull had been unconscious only a matter of seconds.
Laura surprised him. He had known that she wanted to tie Bull up and spit in his face before killing him; he had known that she wanted to put him through some hell. But he hadn't expected anything like this.
This was completely out of character for her. She bad always been a demure and innocent little girl with only an occasional sign of the tigress. Now she was all tigress and a mad tigress at that. The depths and intensity of her sadism were astonishing. Richard knew next to nothing about psychiatric theory or diagnosis, but he supposed that all the threat she had felt to herself mental and physical-was now being turned outward. Perhaps her death wish had been aroused by the treatment Bull had subjected her to, and now that was being projected toward him.
As far as he was concerned, they could simply kill the louse and be done with him. Yet he, too, took a kind of cold pleasure in Laura's torture of Bull. Let her have her fun. Let her reduce the man to jelly. Then he, Richard, would put a few bullets in him-if Laura hadn't cut him to death first.
For almost an hour and a half Laura played with Bull. She would torture him, more mentally than physically, to the point of madness, then render false comfort, pretending to soothe him and trying-unsuccessfully-to excite him. Then, when his sobs began to subside, she would be at him again, threatening him with stabbing, death, and mutilation. Bull's shackles had allowed him to slide down the tree until he was on his knees and bent painfully backward, and Laura danced about him in the moonlight, her knife blade slowly growing redder. She would go up to him, caress him, brush him with her body-and then subject him to any filthy indignity she could think of. Then her knife would flash down to tickle him. They didn't have to worry about Bull screaming; before long, he couldn't.
"Let me go," his voice came in a whisper. "I'll go away. I promise you. You'll never see me again. Please, please, let me go away."
"Do you suppose he means that?" Laura asked grinning.
"I doubt it."
"Please, I want to go away. I need a doctor. Some place far away. Oh, God, please!"
"No, you might come back," Laura said, "and then we'd have to go through this all over again. You wouldn't want that. It's only fair to you to kill you now. As soon as I've finished-"
"No, please. Oh, for the love of God..
Laura smiled at Richard. "Can you find our place? Go get your blanket if it's still there."
"Hell, I want to see you do this."
"Be nice. Go get the blanket." , Richard hurried off. He found the blanket without difficulty. He shook it out carefully, folded it, and started back toward Laura and Bull.
Bull was still groveling. Laura had pulled on her skirt and was buttoning her sweater, two buttons in the middle of the front. The rest of her clothing was still lying on the grass.
"I think we might as well let him go, Richard. There's not much left of him."
Richard looked at Bull; he still was not cut badly.
This fact plus Laura's words brought him an unexpected feeling of relief. The cold amusement, the emotional numbness he'd felt, began to ebb. So we don't have to kill him after all, he thought. He wondered if either of them had really meant to kill him at all. After all, people like Laura and him just didn't commit murder. Murder in the heart, yes-but no more.
He leaned over Bull. "Chapman, you'd better mean that about clearing out for good."
"I do! I do!"
"And if I ever hear of you making trouble for a woman again-any woman-I swear I'll find you and we'll finish this. I swear it. And I can do it. I've got all the money it takes to find you any place, and if I don't shove the knife myself, I can get someone else to do that. Do you understand that?"
"Yes!"
"And you'll never forget?"
"No, no, please...."
Laura put on her shoes. She gathered up her stockings and underclothes and stuffed them into her purse.
Richard looked through Bull's pockets and found his keys. He unlocked Bull's cuffs, and the beaten giant fell sideways to the ground and rolled over on his stomach. Richard left him tied at the ankles.
He and Laura went to the edge of the clearing. He turned around and looked at Bull, who hadn't moved.
"Remember, the next time, I kill you."