Red - Jack Ketchum [35]
But today she wasn’t enjoying sewing at all. It was the why of it.
The dress was simple, easy to make.
But the dress was for that woman.
~ * ~
Brian loved the power-sound of it. The hiss of water and the growl of the generator and now too the pounding against the plywood that reduced the dogs’ frenzied barking to mere background noise. Paint-chips flew off the old weathered board.
“Dial it down,” his father said. “But not too much.”
~ * ~
She hears a strange sound coming from outside or perhaps a mix of sounds none of which she understands except for the barking of the dogs. Her head is pounding. She pulls hard against her restraints but there is no give this time. She waits. There is nothing to do but wait.
She has learned patience on the hunt. And vigilance.
EIGHTEEN
Cleek and Brian lug the generator down the stairs. Heavy sonovabitch, Brian thinks. Brian’s got the top and most of the weight is at the bottom but even so. They set it down and his dad takes one more drag off the Winston dangling from his lips and tosses it away.
The woman’s watching them. Giving them the evil eye.
“Make sure the extension’s secure up there and then go inside and fetch your mom and Peg.”
“Can’t I help?”
“You helped plenty. Go on.”
The woman’s still glaring at them and his father’s leaned down to flip the switch of the pressure washer’s onboard storage tank of cleaning solution to the ON position so Brian takes that opportunity to pick up his dad’s butt, still smoldering, and flick it at her. It hits her in the belly and sparks fly. He grins. She continues glaring. He gathers she doesn’t like him. So what.
Inside the house mom’s at the sewing machine.
“Dad’s ready for you,” he says.
“’I‘ll be finished here in just a minute.”
“He wants Peg too.”
“Well, get her.”
He goes to the stairs and yells. “Hey Peg! Dad wants you!”
Belle’s voice is angry behind him. Like she’s speaking through gritted teeth.
“Brian, go up and get her. Do not scream in my house.”
“Sorry,” he says.
But he isn’t sorry. He’s pissed off. His sister gets to go down there while he doesn’t. Why? Because he’s got a prick, that’s why. Well so does his fucking father. And what’s the big deal anyway? He’s already seen pretty much all there is to see of her. Except for her ass. And her cunt.
He didn’t dare look that far when he was cleaning up in front of her. He knew his dad was watching. But thinking about what he didn’t see is making him hard again. Funny how that takes the edge off his anger.
Peg’s at the top of the stairs.
“What now?” she says.
~ * ~
She wants no part of any of this. She wants to wish it away. All of it. Maybe her entire life. But if it wasn’t clear to her before it’s crystal clear nowadays that wishing is like praying and you had to be blind or stupid or both to do either. So she follows her mother down the stairs.
Her father is fitting a black low-pressure nozzle into the spray wand. Thank god for that at least. She’s used the pressure washer on her father’s car and knows that even a medium pressure nozzle has enough kick to it to bring down a low-flying bird. You don’t play spray-me-with-the-garden-hose with that thing.
Her father looks up and smiles.
“There’s my girls. All done, Belle?”
“Yes.”
She holds the dress out for him to see.
“Great.”
Her father produces a pocket knife and snaps open the blade and walks over to the woman chained against the wall. She can