They were inside the house now, and Pete could hear voices from the videotape. Carl saying a number of rude and profane things to the women between grunts and thrusts. The women answering with orgasmic moans and shrieks that had to be fake. Right now one was telling him how good he was and saying complimentary things about the size of his penis. The woman had to be a first-rate actress. Pete couldn’t imagine how dirty, scrawny, hawk-faced Carl could elicit that kind of reaction from a woman without coercion. And he knew damn well the Prestons were all about coercion.
Pete stood behind Justine in a large dining space with two tables. Immediately adjacent to the dining space was a kitchen, and beyond that was the recessed den where Gil and his mother were passed out in their recliners. One of the tables was a standard-sized round table for meals. The other was something else entirely. It was a long metal rectangle with leather straps mounted on hooks at the corners. The latter had been shoved into a corner to leave more room for the dining table.
Pete kept his voice low as he followed Justine into the kitchen.“Come on, Justine. You’re not really planning to, I dunno,
chain saw
these people. Are you?”
Justine didn’t answer him. She paused in the kitchen to open drawers and sort through them. Pete fidgeted and glanced past her at the snoring duo in the den. He
kept expecting them to wake up at any moment. Justine moved quickly from drawer to drawer. It wasn’t just the time she was wasting that bothered Pete. She was making no effort to be quiet. She dumped some things on the floor in the course of her search, including some metal things that rattled on the tiles and made Pete’s heart lurch.
“What the hell are you looking for?”
“This.”
Her hand came out of a drawer clutching a hunk of black metal he recognized as a large-caliber revolver. Pete knew fuck-all about guns, but he did know this was larger than the average-sized handgun. It looked like one of those big Magnums Clint Eastwood carried around in the Dirty Harry movies. Pete gaped at Justine. She looked like she was posing for a teaser poster for some forthcoming Quentin Tarantino or Rob Zombie movie. Chain saw gripped by the handle in one hand. Big fucking gun in the other. Oh, and she was a wild-looking nude babe with big breasts.
Mondo box office, for sure.
Pete arched an eyebrow.“So…what? Are you going to shoot them and then chain saw them? Seems like overkill to me, but then I’m not a crazy psycho person.”
Justine smiled and came over to him.“It’s not for me.”
She pressed the heavy gun into his right hand and forced his reluctant fingers to curl around the handle.
Pete was shaking his head.“No. I’m not shooting them in their sleep.”
“Why not?”
“I…Well, I don’t know. It’s not like they don’t deserve it. But I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”
“It’s simple. This thing has no safety. And it’s loaded. Just point and squeeze the trigger. Keep both hands on the handle and be ready for the recoil.”
“Fuck. You’re really asking me to do this?”
Justine shook her head.“No. I just want you to be ready. A bullet to the head while they’re passed out would be letting them off easy. And that’s not happening, baby. I’m about to wake our sleeping beauties up. If they give me trouble or it looks like I’m not gonna be able to handle them, just point and shoot.”
She turned away from him then and continued on to the den. Pete’s heart was in his throat as he followed her through the kitchen and down the three steps to the den. He saw the high-definition image of Carl’s sweaty face on the large-screen TV and wanted to throw up. The man’s wormy lips were twisted in the ugliest expression of sexual ecstasy Pete had ever seen. And one of the women was saying,“Ooh, baby, that’s so good.”
Justine walked around the recliners and came to a halt in front of them. She pointed to a spot several feet to her right and indicated with a nod that Pete should stand there. He got himself positioned where she wanted and felt an immense relief at being able to turn his back on the grubby homemade porno.
Justine glanced at him.“Aim the gun at them, Pete.”
Pete sighed and raised the gun. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t even want to be here. But he was powerless to change anything now. It was the sheer futility of resisting her will that made him do what she wanted. The gun’s long, gleaming barrel was now pointed at a spot somewhere between the two dozing bodies. They looked beyond pathetic in this condition. Gil resembled nothing more than a beached whale dressed up in farmer’s clothes. And his mother looked like the most hideously wrinkled old hag you might see sitting on a stool at the end of some grimy biker’s bar—denim cutoffs and a skimpy halter top covering a bony body adorned with numerous faded tattoos. But his gaze stayed on Gil the longest. His
was the face that would haunt his nightmares the most if he survived this night. He only had flashing, brief bits of memory from the rape, but that was more than enough. His fingers tensed around the gun’s grip. The hate that swelled within him in that moment was nearly enough to make him just shoot the guy and have it done with. Only the thought of how Justine might react kept him from doing it. She started the chain saw and brought it to a full rev within seconds. The sound made Pete’s head hurt and made him want to cover his ears.
The Prestons began to stir almost immediately.
Gil opened one eye and saw Justine standing right in front of him with the chain saw revving. He remained very still for another long moment as his brain worked to decide whether this was something from a drunken dream or reality. The truth soon penetrated the alcoholic haze. The other eye came open and he sat up quick. Pete sucked in a breath and shifted his aim so that the gun’s barrel was pointed at the center of the big man’s face. Gil’s eyes flicked from the chain saw to the gun and back again. At first there was only dumb recognition of what was happening. Then his dark eyes brightened with fear. This was real, and he wasn’t getting out of it. He almost looked like he wanted to cry. Seeing this made Pete feel good on a very primal level. He felt his lips curling in an expression that was somewhere halfway between a sneer and a triumphant grin.
And now Ma Preston was starting to come out of her stupor. She shifted in the recliner and yawned, stretching her thin arms high over her head with her eyes still closed. Then her face wrinkled in a frown, and a moment later her eyes fluttered open. She focused on the revving chain saw and her eyes went wide. She let out a scream and jumped out of the recliner. Pete swung the gun in her direction and raised it higher. He squeezed the trigger
and fired a shot off over her head. The sound of glass shattering in the kitchen was audible even over the roar of the chain saw. The bullet had smashed into a cabinet. Ma let out another yelp and dropped back into the recliner, cowering now as she stared up at the big gun. Pete’s shoulders ached. The recoil was everything Justine had promised. He could hardly believe he’d actually fired the thing.
Justine brought the chain saw down to a low rev and then shut it off. Pete’s ears buzzed in the relative silence. He heard nothing at first. Then identifiable sounds seeped back in. The sex noises from the videotape. The rapid, panting breaths of the terrified Prestons. And Justine’s mad, mocking laughter.
Gil scowled at her.“How did you assholes get out?”
Justine laughed some more. “You can blame your brother, Gil. Horny bastard got all worked up watching me screw my man and decided he’d help himself to some pussy. Got sloppy and got himself killed in the process.”
A sudden wail of grief pealed out of Ma’s lungs. “No! Not my Johnny! He can’t be dead!”
Justine snickered.“Oh, but he is. My man here choked him to death.”
Ma’s head snapped toward Pete. Her eyes narrowed to murderous slits, and she rose from the recliner again. “You son of a bitch. I’ll kill you.”
Pete pointed the gun at her chest.“No. You won’t. And sit back down, or I’ll be the one doing the killing.”
Ma sneered. “Shit. You’re just gonna kill us anyways. May as well try and get at ya.”
“Take a run at him and he’ll shoot your knees out first. Then we’ll just hang out and listen to you scream and roll around on the floor for a while. How’s that sound, bitch?”
Ma looked at Justine. She was still sneering. “Neither
of you pieces of shit got the balls for that kind of action. Don’t make me laugh, ya cunt.”
Justine just smiled. “Oh?” She looked at Pete and winked. “Shoot her, baby. Shoulder or kneecap, it’s your choice.”
Pete just stared at the wrinkled hag.“Um…what?”
Ma snorted.“What did I tell ya?”
She came at Pete.
His hands flipped up and he squeezed the trigger. The round clipped her in the shoulder and sent her spinning to the floor, where she landed screaming in a heap of crumpled beer cans.
“Ma!”
Gil heaved himself out of the recliner and Pete swung the gun back toward him. “Stay right there or I put one through your big belly.”
Gil stood frozen where he was, belly heaving as anxiety sent a flush of red into his mottled features. He looked at his mother, and his eyes became more expressive than usual. He looked scared and worried. He wanted to help her, but didn’t dare move. Ah, a son’s love. Such a beautiful thing. The callous turn of his thoughts surprised Pete. He wasn’t this kind of person. Or at least he’d never thought he was. But here he was, laughing inwardly at another person’s pain. What kind of person was he becoming? These people had wronged him in a big way. He was a victim exacting vengeance. He had every right to laugh as these monsters received their comeuppance.
Didn’t he?
He thought so, but a bit of lingering doubt still gnawed at him.
“Here’s what happens now.” Justine’s tone was in stark contrast to his inner voice. The mirth was gone. Her voice was flat, pitiless. “We’re going up into the kitchen. Gil, you’re walking ahead of me. Slowly. You do as I say
every step of the way, or Pete puts some more bullets in your mother. Understand?”
Gil’s throat distended as he swallowed with great difficulty, but he at last managed a nod. “Okay. Please don’t hurt her no more.”
Ma continued to wail and roll about on the floor. She extended a hand toward her son. “Baby, don’t go. Don’t listen…oh, help me, Jesus…don’t listen…to her.”
Gil wiped a tear from his eye.“It’ll be okay, Ma.”
Pete moved a few steps back as the big man walked past her and headed toward the kitchen. He breathed heavily as he trudged up the steps. Justine followed him, glancing back at Pete long enough to say, “Keep an eye on her. I’ll call for you in a minute.”
Pete nodded.
Justine followed Gil up the stairs.
Pete looked at the wounded woman and felt the first small twinge of pity. Her face was twisted in anguish and pain. She kept clutching at her bloody shoulder and writhing amid the crumpled cans, moaning and sobbing the whole time. He’d never seen anything so pathetic. And he’d made it happen. He heard voices in the kitchen. Or beyond the kitchen. They seemed farther away than that. It was Justine giving orders and Gil protesting. But the actual meaning of the words eluded him as he continued to stare at the wounded, pitiful creature on the floor. Then he heard a scrape of wood across floor tiles. And after that a similar sound. Pete frowned.
What are they doing?
Then he remembered the tables he’d seen in the dining area. He moved a few feet to the left and then had a clear sight line through the kitchen to the dining space. The round dining table had been moved out of the way, and in its place was the rectangular metal table. Justine was giving Gil a wide berth as they argued, standing with
her back against the kitchen counter while he stood near the metal table. She was right to be wary of him. He was several times her size and would overpower her easily if he got close enough to her. And the man looked agitated. His face had turned a bright shade of red again. Pete wished he’d paid attention to what they were saying moments ago.
Gil took a lumbering step in Justine’s direction. Pete saw her shoulders tense. Gil jabbed a thick forefinger at her. “I ain’t doin’ it! Matter of fact, I’m thinkin’ I’ll take that toy out of your hands and put you up there, bitch.”
Pete stepped close to Ma Preston and pointed the gun down at her head. He pitched his voice loud enough to divert Gil’s attention from Justine. “Do what she says, you redneck sack of shit, or I’ll put a bullet through your mother’s ugly fucking face.”
Gil looked at him. His eyes were thin slits. His jowls quivered and his belly heaved. His meaty fists clenched and unclenched. He looked as if he wanted to tear something apart. Then his expression shifted. His eyes opened wider and his scowl became a leering grin.“You ain’t gonna do shit, city boy. Same way you didn’t do shit when I shoved my hog up your tight little asshole.” He licked his lips and made a grunting sound. “Bet that was because you liked it. Ain’t that right, faggot? You loved it when ol’ Gil was puttin’ to ya. Reckon I’ll tear off another piece of that ass after I take my McCulloch back from this skanky whore.”
It took Pete a moment to realize his whole body was shaking. His teeth ground together as an ache flared behind his eyes. The gun felt loose in his sweaty palm and he curled his fingers tighter around it. He looked at Gil’s leering face a moment longer and felt something break inside him. A fury like nothing he’d ever felt gripped him as a roar tore out of his throat. He knelt and seized
a handful of Ma Preston’s greasy hair. Then he hauled her screaming to her feet and pushed her ahead of him. The woman stumbled, and her creaky old knees banged against the carpeted floor. Pete again grabbed her hair and hauled her carelessly back to her feet. She howled in agony as he shoved her up the stairs to the kitchen. He kept one hand wound around the length of greasy hair as he steered her through the kitchen and past Justine into the dining space. He yanked her to a stop and put the gun to her temple some six feet away from Gil.
“I don’t want to hear any more bullshit from you, Gil. You’re a worthless fucking rapist, and you’ve got no right to run your inbred mouth at your betters. Do what Justine told you to do, right now, or your mother is dead. And before her body hits the floor I’ll put every last bullet in this gun through your belly. You think I don’t have it in me, Gil?”A vicious grin twisted his face and his eyes blazed. “Try me. Open your mouth one more time and find out.”