Kill Jill (16 page)

Authors: John Locke

“Guess I was wrong about that,” she says.

“There’s bound to be a bayou nearby, though.”

“Of course. And it’ll be filled with snakes, alligators, and spiders. Please tell me your plan doesn’t include stealing a boat.”

“I wouldn’t know where to take it,” Jack says. “I’m a city guy. Rowing through the Louisiana swamps in the wee hours of the morning strikes me as a bad plan. We could get lost pretty quick. I was hoping to find another car to steal. Or someone we could pay to drive us.”

Jack backs up a hundred yards, turns the car around, heads toward the main road.

“What now?” Jill says.

“Plan B.”

He parks the car a quarter-mile from the main road, turns the engine off, removes the key. Then opens the door, gets out.

Jill climbs out the passenger side.

“What are we doing?”

“Is there anything you need to get from the car?”

“All I’ve got’s the filthy clothes I’m wearing.”

“Need to use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“Me either. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t want to say out loud.”

Jack opens the trunk, and the Fosters cower, thinking they’re about to be shot.

“You’re okay,” he says. “Sorry about the dents all over your car. We’re heading out now, but I’ll leave the trunk open. Eventually you’ll be able to work yourselves free. If you keep quiet, I’ll leave your car keys at the end of the dirt road.”

“What if we scream and holler?” the old lady says.

“I’ll keep the keys.”

With that, Jack and Jill start walking toward the main road. When they get out of hearing distance, Jill says, “What’s the plan? Hitchhike?”

“I don’t like our chances of getting picked up this time of night. I think we should go back to the festival and try to blend in. Maybe meet someone there, pay them to give us a ride after the boat-burning.”

“You just want some gumbo.”

“That too. But I think some of the Vikings will go home after the boat-burning. Wouldn’t you?”

“Instead of sleeping on a blanket in the mosquito and snake-infested marsh?
I
certainly would. Then again, I wouldn’t be out here in the first place.”

Jack says, “We should re-think your Baton Rouge plan.”

“Why?”

“I like the idea of catching a cab to Memphis, then changing cabs. But we’ve already lost a lot of time. If we’re going to pay someone to drive us we should go to Jackson. It’ll save us two hours of driving time.”

When they get to the main road, Jack stops, takes a knee, places the car keys on the ground, and grabs a handful of dirt.

“What’re you doing now?”

“Getting my game face on.”

He rubs some dirt on his face, then hers. Then they begin the two-mile walk they hope will end with a bowl of gumbo and a ride to Jackson, Mississippi.

“Think we’ll get fed?” he says.

“That would make a perfect day for you, wouldn’t it? Four fights, some pussy, and a bowl of gumbo.”

By the time they infiltrate the Viking throng, Jack and Jill are thoroughly exhausted.

It’s been an especially long night for Jill.

She’s been drugged, kidnapped, bound, and stuck in a car for hours. She’s been shot at, made love to, forced to assault a teenager, and two septuagenarians. She’s been threatened by not only a bounty hunter, but also a state trooper, a jilted husband, and a quartet of bisexual redneck deer hunters. She’s not only a witness to a quadruple homicide and cop-shooting, she’s also committed breaking-and-entering, three counts of assault with a deadly weapon, three counts of kidnapping, and a car-jacking. She’s currently on the run with her husband’s employee, and has reason to believe she’s being hunted by the state police and her vengeful husband. She hasn’t slept in twenty hours, hasn’t had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday, and precious little to drink. As they approach the torch-lit tables, she reminds herself the key here is to blend in, get some gumbo, something to drink, and lay low.

There are half as many revelers as she expected. A thousand at most, she guesses, and maybe a half-dozen policemen, who may or may not be on Bobby’s payroll. She’s worried about being recognized. Not by the cops, but…

“
Princess
!” a lady shouts.

Jill turns her head, tries to move away.

Jack says, “Is she talking to
you
?”

“Princess! I lay at your feet!” the lady yells.

“Jack! Get me out of here!” Jill says.

Before he can react, the lady jumps on top of the table where Jack and Jill are sitting with a dozen revelers.

“What the hell?” Jack says.

The woman is Jill’s age, but her head is completely bald, and painted bright red. When she’s not speaking, her tongues flick out from her mouth like a snake’s. In truth, she has but one tongue, but it’s been split in the center all the way to the back of her throat.

There’s something else unusual about her tongue: it’s bright blue.

“Princess!” she says. “It’s me, Princess Lillith!”

“Shhh!” Jill says.

Lillith crows like a rooster and yells, “Chieftans, noblemen, freemen, wives, maidens, lords-in-training: I give you Princess Thyra!”

Those at the table, and within hearing distance, gasp, and fall to their knees.

Jill whispers, “Please, Fanny. I’m trying to keep a low profile.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Fanny shouts, “My mistake! A thousands apologies to you all. Please, resume your revelry!”

The group murmurs and mumbles, and she climbs down from the table and whispers, “Whatever you need, Jill. Meet me at the fires.”

She looks at Jack and says, “Hi, handsome.” To Jill she says, “How long have you been hitting that?”

“We’ll meet you at the fires,” Jill says.

Jack says, “Are you one of the virgin riders?”

Her forked, blue tongue slides out of her mouth. “You got a problem with that?”

“Nope. I’m just sorry I missed the chicken chase.”

“Why, because you wanted to see these?”

She lowers her tunic, exposes her breasts.

Several men at the table start clapping. Fanny bows.

Jill says, “What are you
doing
, Fanny?”

“Being lusty. Like mom always said, nothing says howdie like flashing your tits.”

“Your mom sounds like a wise lady,” Jack says.

She pulls her tunic back up and says, “I’m Fanny. Who are you?”

“Jack.”

“Nice to meet you. Just so you know, I’m available, in case this thing with Jill doesn’t work out.”

“Good to know,” he says, winking at Jill.

Jill frowns. “Let’s walk to the fires and talk.”

Jack wolfs down the rest of his gumbo, then he and Jill follow Fanny to one of the fire pits.

Jill says, “We need a ride to Jackson, Mississippi.”

“I’d love to help you, hon, but I’m on the back of a Harley, Nashville bound.”

“I thought you lived in Minnesota.”

“That was years ago. I’ve got a private dick gig now.”

“That sounds lusty,” Jack says.

“It means I’m working with a private investigator.”

“Where?”

“You remember Dani Ripper? The Little Girl Who Got Away?”

“Who doesn’t? She was all over the news. They found her, right?”

“She found herself. Resurfaced when her husband was murdered.”

“You’re a private investigator?” Jill says.

“No. I’m her receptionist.”

Jack says, “She’s okay about the…uh…”

“The what?”

“Well, no offense, but your head’s painted red, and you’ve got a blue, forked tongue.”

Fanny says, “Dani hasn’t actually met me yet.”

“How’d you get the job?”

“Enough about me. How’d you get here, hitchhike?” She frowns. “You’re not broke, are you, handsome?”

“No. But our car’s been disabled.”

“Wait! Was that
you
a while ago? In the Circle of Hell?”

“
Shh
!” Jill whispers. “Keep your voice down.”

Fanny whispers, “What was going on in the trunk?”

“It’s a long story.”

Fanny says, “I can find you a ride, but you’ll need more cash than I’ve got on me. I can spot you fifty. Maybe we could take up a collection.”

“How much would we need?”

“About two hundred.”

Jack says, “Two hundred bucks for a ride to Jackson?”

“That’s right, handsome. But if it was me taking you, I’d work it out in trade.”

“I’ve got enough cash,” he says. “But we need to leave right now.”

“For right now it’s two grand.”

“
What
?”

“I’m assuming the law’s involved?”

“Not necessarily.”

“I can get you to Jackson in an hour. But these revelers won’t take you.”

“Why not?”

“They came from all over the world to be here. They’re not going to leave till it’s over.”

“Then how can you possibly get us to Jackson in an hour? It took me longer than that to drive here tonight.”

“You won’t be driving.”

Jill says, “What have you got in mind?”

“Ever see the movie,
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
?”

Jack says, “What about it?”

“This will be like that. Only different.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.”

Jack starts to count out some money.

Fanny says, “Not here.”

“Why? We’re completely alone.”

“It’s too dark. You could be giving me newsprint, for all I know.”

Jill digs an angry elbow into Jack’s ribs and says, “Newsprint?”

Fanny says, “Pretty boys like Jack can be really dumb when it comes to women. They’ll do anything to get in my pants.”

“I have no interest in what’s inside your pants!” Jack says.

“And that’s what proves you’re dumb,” Fanny says.

Jill laughs.

Fanny leads them to a hard-packed mud alley between two giant tents with generator-powered lights. Ten feet away, on either side, the tents are bustling with people and activity. They’re enclosed, and the fabric throws off enough light for them to see each other clearly.

Fanny holds her hand out, Jack places ten bills in it.

“What’s this?” she says.

“Half up front.”

“Which one of you is staying behind?”

“Neither. This is a deposit. Fifty percent down. That’s how I do business.”

“You know how I do business?” she says.

“How’s that?”

“If you give me half the money to buy a dog, I’ll sell you half a dog.”

Jill says, “It’s okay, Jack. Fanny won’t cheat us.”

He frowns, hands Fanny another thousand.

She shocks him by kissing him flush on the mouth. He tries to back up, but she grabs his shirt to hold him in place. Ignoring the look of disgust on his face, Fanny works her cleaved tongue past his lips, and tries to breach the barricade he’s created with his teeth.

“Fanny?” Jill says.

She backs off reluctantly, flicks her tongue out.

Jack grimaces. Says, “Why’d you
do
that?”

“I was letting you thank me for helping you.”

Jill silently counts to ten, attempting to keep her temper in check.

“Wait here,” Fanny says. “I’ll be right back.”

When she disappears into the night, Jill says, “What was that all about?”

“Which part?”

“The part where you talked her into flashing her boobs, and tongue-kissed her.”

He prepares to launch an argument to set the record straight, but stops himself.

“You’re changing the subject,” he says.

“What subject?”