Off Season - Jack Ketchum [67]
In her retreat from reality she might have survived him. She might have succumbed to him passively, feeling nothing, knowing nothing, whimpering quietly in the clutch of demons. Her sanity betrayed her instead and delivered her up to him whole, sentient, and strong. She could not bear him. She screamed.
“Said shut up,” he snarled, and slapped her again. But now she could not stop screaming. There was too much racing through her memory now, too many terrors past and present. It was as if her voice was not hers anymore but came from someone who had lain hidden deep inside her, and now the one within was out of control with terror. Her breath came in sharp gasps. She saw that behind him some of the others were on their feet and angry.
“Shut her up,” said the toothless fat woman.
The man who had lost his hand awakened and sat up suddenly. “Kill her!” he said.
For a moment the thin man was confused. He kept slapping the woman but it did no good. What was wrong with her? His brother was annoyed with him. She kept screaming and the screams got louder and louder. His hand moved instinctively to the knife.
“Use . . .” Beside him the pregnant girl hunted for the word. “Use . . . tape.”
Tape. He saw it in his mind. He pushed the woman to her knees. He ran quickly into the second room and then had to run back out again because it was dark in there and he had no light. He snatched up the torch. The girl was still screaming. “Shut—” he said and hit the top of her head with his fist. She bit her tongue and drew blood but kept up her miserable noises, screaming and crying. He went for the tape.
“Please, Laura,” Marjie whispered when he was gone. “Please. You’ve got to be quiet! You’ve got to control it.” But she did not seem to hear. The man returned with a roll of heavy silver electrician’s tape. Laura was on her knees now, sobbing. Disgusted, he tore off a piece of tape and palmed it, slapping it across her mouth and then smoothing it down with the side of his hand like a man using a trowel on wet cement. His erection was gone. He looked at her face, wet with snot and tears. He no longer wanted the woman. He disliked the noises she made—mewling noises, whimpering noises, and because she had to breathe through her nose now, great heavy snufflings of mucus. The man decided he did not like her much. He decided to kill.
The idea excited him. His body began to twitch. He removed the knife from between his teeth and placed it on the ground in front of him, then put the roll of tape in his mouth for the moment. His knee in her back, he reached around her and pulled both her arms out behind her and held them together with one hand while he taped the wrists together with the other. She did not resist him. She was still sobbing weakly. He wrapped the wrists tight.
He slid his fingers into her short-cut hair and pulled her head backward until her back was arched and her forehead pressed up against his cock. He felt it start to rise again. He pinched her nostrils together so she could not breathe, and then when he saw the fear in her eyes and she began to struggle, he released them. He heard her gasp for breath. Giggling, he pinched the nostrils again. This time he did not let go.
Fifteen seconds passed. He could see her trying to stay calm, assuming he would release her as he had before, and then he saw the doubt and then the terror. Her face flushed red. She began to pitch furiously from side to side, trying to throw him, tossing her head against the hand clutching her hair. He held on. She tried to fall face forward but he would not let her. Behind the tape he heard her scream and moan. He felt her weaken. Then after a while she stopped struggling and hung limp in his arms. He lifted her eyelids and checked the pupils. She was