Alice & Dorothy (18 page)

“Fuck!” Alice said. “Shut up!” She put her free hand against her temple. She used the other hand to jab Rabbit in the back with the pistol barrel.

“Hey,” Rabbit said. “We’re still friends, right? Don’t shoot me, babygirl. You’ll regret it forever.”

“
SHE ALREADY KILLED A FUCKER!
” the Hater screamed. The voice erupted through Alice. It was throaty and guttural.

Behind Alice, at the front door, Dorothy cried out. Alice flicked her head back for a moment, then back on Rabbit.

“Do you know Time?” she said.
Not me, I’m losing me, I’m losing—

“Yeah.” He checked his watch. “Two-thirty, baby. Now—”

“
WRONG!
” Alice barked. “
You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re not even a real fucking Rabbit, are you? You have the shortest ears I’ve ever seen.
”

Rabbit pulled the lid off the back of the toilet, then fished into the cold water and pulled out a sealed black bag. At first Alice saw a dead cat pulled out of the water, rotted and wilting, but then it was a brick covered in a tightly wrapped garbage bag and she had no idea where the dead cat had gone.

“Hand it over,” Alice said. The light in the bathroom flicked on and off as the power in the room surged and dropped off again. She could hear the electricity running through the filament, droning like an angry fly. The light flickered between pink and blue. The bathtub took on a waxy, rotten fruit sheen and the finish began to bubble and slide toward the drain. She glanced up at the bathroom light and confirmed her suspicion. The light bulb was filled with angry, buzzing flies. They were lit up like a filament, but she could plainly see them wiping their hands and rubbing their faces.
Little schemers. They’re planning something
.

Rabbit turned around. The bag was now a big black roach, and he had it between his hands.”It’s a fucking water gun,” Rabbit said. “Go on, pull the trigger and see. It squirts raspberry jelly.”

You can’t trust her anyway
, the Hater mumbled.
She’s killed a man. Scooped out his brain! His mind rotting and stained!

“Shut
UP!
” Alice yelled. She pounded the sides of her head with her hands.

Rabbit held out the bag. Alice reached for it with her free hand. The gun was no longer on Rabbit, she was using it to try and keep the voice of the Hater from spilling out of her mouth.

It was just the opportunity Rabbit needed. He dropped the bag.

Instinctively Alice made a grab for it. The moment her eyes shifted to follow the cockroach, Rabbit made his move. He slammed a fist into Alice’s mouth and grabbed for the gun. Alice flew back into the hall. Her mouth was a bloody mess. Her eyes danced under her eyelids. She stumbled against the wall and slid to the floor in a heap.

Rabbit spit on her. He had the gun in his hands now. “
Fuck you!
” he shouted. “You want to point a gun at me? I’ll
fuckin’ kill you!
”

“
ALICE!
” Dorothy screamed. She was crouched over by the door, crying. Rabbit looked at her.

Alice heard Rabbit say: “You’re gettin’ it good, bitch. Nobody rolls in here like that.” He stepped past her, his hands clenched in fists. Alice reached out and grabbed his ankle with one feeble hand, and he looked down at her, smiling.

“
I told you,
” Rabbit said. He turned and planted a sharp kick squarely in the side of Alice’s face. There was a wet meat sound and a sharp clack of her teeth coming together, then her head flopped stupidly on her neck and she let out a
HYUNNH.
For Alice, the world sputtered in hyper colour flashes. She floundered on the carpet, too dazed and stupid to move.

“
Stop it!
” Dorothy looked like a trapped, panicked deer. Glancing around, she looked at the front door of the house. Her head snapped between Alice on the floor and Rabbit, standing between them.

There was death in his eyes.

“Don’t even think it, bitch. So help me God I’ll take your head right off.” Dorothy looked back at the door.

“
HEY!
” Rabbit shouted. He waved the gun at her.

“Okay,” she whimpered. She put her hands up. “Please.” The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and electric with tension. She snuffled and sucked back tears and snot.

Rabbit approached her with the gun held out in front of him. He grabbed her by the back of the head and shoved her back into the living room, away from the doorway. Away from freedom. Dorothy howled at his touch.

She stumbled toward the coffee table, tripped over her feet and went down on one knee. Rabbit walked in behind her, gun at his side. Dorothy wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. One hand on the floor, the other on the table, she saw the green glass ashtray just inches from her fingertips.

“Get up!” Rabbit nudged her with the edge of his foot.

Dorothy stood up. As she moved, her fingers curled around the lip of the ashtray. And then she was turning, ashtray in hand, swinging it in a wild arc. Rabbit ducked instinctively. The corner of the ashtray grazed the top of his head, leaving an angry red streak in his hairline that carried down his forehead and stopped over his eye. He fell back on the floor, overbalanced, then threw his hands back and caught himself at the last moment.

And then he was back up again, and fending off her blows. Dorothy was screaming and swinging, her face puffy and streaked, her eyes mixed with equal parts rage and terror. Rabbit stuck his hand into her next swing, knocked her arm wide, and then brought his gun-hand up and caught her on the chin. Dorothy’s knees buckled. She dropped the ashtray, threw her hands to her face, and collapsed in a weeping heap in front of Rabbit.

“
FUCK!
” he screamed, grabbing his head. There was a line of fire where the ashtray had struck. He went around beside Dorothy and booted her in the ass. She wailed in pain and tried to crawl away. Rabbit grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her hard onto her side. He planted a knee into her side and she squawked in protest.

Rabbit pulled her hands away from her face. She looked up at him with rolling, terrified eyes and he slammed the side of his gun into them.

Dorothy gasped, choked on a cry, and gagged again. She buried her face in her arms and tried to turn away.

“
Don’t fuckin’ puke
,” Rabbit said quietly. He smacked her again in the side of the face with the pistol. He grabbed her hair with his free hand and pulled her head back, then slammed his gun hand into the fingers covering her eyes. Somewhere under the tangle of her hands her nose was bleeding. She was moaning softly, instinctively covering herself as best she could. Rabbit socked her in the jaw. The gun came away sticky with blood and saliva. He rolled her on her back and straddled her hips. She tried to curl into a ball on her side, but it was a weak attempt. She was barely conscious.

Rabbit grabbed the neck of her shirt and pulled hard. Dorothy’s head rocked. Her shirt ripped open. She was wearing a green bra. Her pale skin was dusted with freckles and streaks of blood. Stress made her milky flesh red and blotchy.

“Oh yeah,” Rabbit said. He grabbed her breast with a free hand. He squeezed it until Dorothy moaned. She tried to cover herself with a clumsy hand. Rabbit knocked it away and latched onto her again. “You want to party?” His voice was a dirty whisper. “
You do, don’t you.
”

He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. Then he leaned down and licked the top of her breast. Dorothy gasped. A fine crimson mist danced off her lips. She shook her head slowly back and forth. The eye that had been repeatedly slammed with the gun was swollen shut. The area around it was turning into an ugly black and purple bruise.

Rabbit flicked the button on her jeans. He yanked on the denim. Her zipper popped, and her pants opened to reveal buttermilk flesh and sensible green panties that matched her bra. Rabbit grunted. His lips parted and he ran a finger along the waistband. Organic heat radiated out from her to his fingertips. He pulled the waistband down with his finger. He traced a circle in the light dusting of auburn hair beneath. She smelled like sweat and cunt down there. Rabbit’s cock went stiff and he rubbed the head with the damp finger, pushing against his piss hole through the denim of his jeans.

Dorothy bucked hard at his touch, and Rabbit slid to one side. She kicked and flailed and screamed and suddenly Rabbit wasn’t on her anymore; he was lying on his side and scrabbling for his gun. A flutter of movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked up to see Alice charging toward him. He looked at the black rage on her face and thought
THAT’S NOT ALICE
. Then it was too late for anything else.

“Fuck
YOUUUUU!
” Alice screeched. She had a weapon in her hand, a heavy porcelain square stained with years of water marks and chemical deposits. It was the lid off the back of the toilet. Blood was in her eyes, but her target was an easy one. Her fingers locked on the lid, she let go with one hand and swung like she was throwing a bowling ball.

Dorothy scrabbled out of the way, grabbing at her clothes and retreating to the far side of the coffee table.

Rabbit was staring up at Alice with a dumb, shocked look on his face. The lid caught him square in the mouth and continued past him. Alice lost her grip on it at shoulder height, and it sailed across the living room. It smashed Rabbit’s plasma TV before hitting the floor and snapping neatly in three pieces.

The force of the blow knocked Rabbit backward and he slammed his head against the floor. He moaned softly, his legs folded underneath him in a painful yoga pose. He had blood and bits of broken teeth on his face. His bottom teeth had cut though his lower lip and now peeked out of their bloody holes like little yellow maggots.

Alice grabbed Dorothy. “Come on,” she said. “Get up.”

Dorothy was shaking her head. Her eyes were fluttering and dopey.

“
Come on!
” Alice yelled. She grabbed Dorothy under her arms and hauled her out from under Rabbit. She pulled the girl into a sitting position against the couch. Then she ran over and grabbed Rabbit’s gun. It was warm and sticky with blood. She turned back to Dorothy and shook her arms. “
We gotta go!
”

Dorothy opened her eyes. She looked up into Alice’s bloodied face. Then she reached for her and let out a sob.

“Dorothy,” Alice said, wiping her hair out of her face. “We have to go.
Now
. I might have killed that fucker. I still might, I dunno.”

Dorothy nodded. Then she looked down at her torn clothing. She gave Alice a hurt, confused look and tried to cover herself. Alice helped her to her feet. Rabbit’s car keys were on the coffee table; she grabbed those in one hand. The gun was still in the other.

“I got you,” Alice said. “It’s okay, I got you.” She walked them to the door. As Dorothy stepped outside onto the front step, Alice turned suddenly and looked down the hallway. Rabbit’s black bag, the one from the back of the toilet, was still sitting on the floor near where he’d knocked Alice out.

“Wait here,” she said. She ran past the living room, down the hall to the bathroom and scooped the bag up in her hands. There were syringes on the table in the bathroom in a little white box. On the way back she grabbed the clothes Rabbit had dug out for her. She handed the hoodie to Dorothy. “Put this on,” she said. As Dorothy was pulling the sweater over her head Alice grabbed the syringes and stuffed them deep into her pocket.

Dorothy pulled the sweater down and then inspected the length. The sweater was at least two sizes too big, but it had a big poison symbol on the front, just above the pouch. Dorothy put the hood up and looked at Alice.

“Alice!” Dorothy cried. She reached out and grabbed Alice’s arm and pulled the girl toward the door. They made their way out to the street and jumped into Rabbit’s car. Alice sat behind the driver’s seat.