Endless Night Part 67

She raised her head off the mattress. Glimpsed his hands plying her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, painting them scarlet. Stared between them at his stout p.e.n.i.s pointing toward her face. The way it jutted out from down where their bodies met, it almost looked as if it had sprouted from her own groin. But it moved slightly from side to side, even though she was lying still, and she could feel the furry sack of Simon's s.c.r.o.t.u.m rubbing her.

She saw the knife sheathed by his right hip.

No way for her to reach it, though. Not as long as she was tied this way.

Just let it stay where it is.

Just let him leave it there, and not use it on me.

Are You up there, G.o.d? Listening? Fat d.a.m.n chance of that, after what happened to Dad and Andy. But if You ...

Never mind.

Screw it.

Everybody's dead but me, anyhow ...

Simon let go of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Hands on the mattress by her sides, he eased himself down and swirled his tongue around her right nipple. He licked it clean. Then he went at the rest of her breast, his tongue thrusting and sliding, taking the blood off her like a dog lapping up honey. He did it feverishly, gasping and groaning, s...o...b..ring. Soon, all the blood was gone from that breast, leaving it s.h.i.+ny with his spit.

He raised his head and grinned at her.

He had a ring of red around his lips.

Then he spread his mouth wide open-wider than seemed possible-and lowered it back down onto the breast. He sucked hard. His mouth felt like a horrible, toothed vacuum cleaner. She could feel her breast stretching, going in deeper and deeper.

And she felt the head of his p.e.n.i.s shove against the lips of her v.a.g.i.n.a.

He's gonna bite!

He's gonna wait till he's got that horrible thing of his in me, and then he's gonna bite off my b.o.o.b and ...

-SNICK-CLACK- A familiar sound. A great sound.

It came from very close by.

Just to her left.

Jody jerked her head to the left as Dad's face rose up beside the bed. b.l.o.o.d.y. All b.l.o.o.d.y except for the whites of his eyes and the teeth exposed by his snarling lips.

His face rose up past the edge of the mattress. His shoulders followed. And his shoulders were followed by the short black savior of his pistol-grip Mossberg shotgun. The muzzle glided forward over Jody's left breast and stopped an inch from Simon's gouged, raw temple.

As Jody saw this, she felt Simon's mouth loosen its sucking hold on her breast.

His p.e.n.i.s quit trying to prod its way in.

A low, whispery voice said, "Turn your face away, honey."

She followed orders.

The mouth very quickly released her breast. "Hey, man, don't shoot. I ..."

KRA-BOOOOM!!!.

Along with the enormous punis.h.i.+ng wonderful noise came a hot blast, a gust that flung Jody's hair and blew like a quick, mean sandstorm against her chest and neck and upturned cheek.

With her head turned away, she couldn't avoid seeing the shower of mess from Simon's head. A red spray. Chunks of bone. Gooey lumps. Most of it hit the wall more than five feet past the side of the bed.

Simon's gore completely covered the smudge he'd put on the wall by throwing Andy's head.

Jody watched it drip.

Better to watch it drip than to catch a glimpse of Simon. The blast had knocked him tumbling. He was about to flop off the edge of the bed. Jody could see enough, even with her eyes on the dripping wall, to know that he was face up and that his face was some sort of monstrous ruin.

She would rather not add that to the long list of things she had seen tonight and would never forget.

So she fixed her gaze on the splattered wall for another moment, until he'd dropped out of sight.

Even before he struck the floor, she turned her head to the left.

To see her father.

But he was gone.

Chapter Forty-five.

"Dad?" Silence. "Dad?"

"Honey?" His voice was no more than a whisper. "You okay?"

"Sort of."

"I got him, didn't I?"

"You sure did."

"Thought so. The recoil ... knocked me back down."

"I thought you were dead."

"You and me both, hon. Till you screamed. Sounded like a ... d.a.m.n banshee."

"Are you okay?" In the midst of asking that, her voice broke upward. Tears flooded her eyes and she began to blubber. Her body shuddered as she cried.

She struggled to stop. Her father on the floor beside the bed might be dying. If she cried through his final seconds of life ...

"I love you," she sobbed. "Dad?"

"Quit it, would you? You're gonna get me bawlin', and I ... that's gonna hurt."

"Okay." She sniffed. It sounded loud and wet and slurpy.

"Christ, hon. Blow your nose."

"Ha ha." She didn't care that she couldn't blow her nose, but the tears made her eyes and cheeks itchy. She tried turning her head, hoping to rub the side of her face against her shoulder. The way her arms were stretched out, though, her shoulder was beyond reach. She turned her head the other way. Couldn't get to that shoulder, either. "He's got me tied down so I can't move."

"Yeah. Saw. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Was it him? Simon?"

"Yeah."

"Supposed to be dead."

"The body wasn't him. It was the kid he killed in Indio."

"Huh? How ... ?"

"He faked us out. Some of the stuff on the tapes were lies. Andy got him to explain most of it before ..."

"Andy? Oh, my G.o.d. Forgot about ... Where is he?"

Here and there, Jody thought. And was shocked that her mind could tease her with a sick word game.

Might've made Andy laugh, though. Here and there.

"Simon killed him, Dad. He's dead."

Dad was quiet for a few moments. Then he muttered, "My G.o.d. I'm sorry, hon. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. Well ... He ... he had chances."

"Huh?"

"All kinds of chances," Jody said. "Chances to get away. Chances to kill Simon. All kinds of chances. He ... sort of screwed up all of them. One way or the other. It ... didn't have to ... turn out this way. And I guess I blew it, too. If only ..."

"Don't," Dad said. "No point. What's done is done. The thing is ... are you all right?"

She snuffled. "Probably a lot better than you."

"Hope so. G.o.d, honey."

"I'm okay. Really. He stuck me with a knife a few times and they hurt like h.e.l.l, but I think he just did it to hurt me, not ... I don't think any of them are very deep."

"Where'd he get you?"

"In the armpit. The hip. And the back of my leg. You know, right behind the knee. In the crease there. That one really hurts."

"Bet it does."

"Yeah. And, oh yeah, he bit me on the a.s.s. Where'd he get you?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "Did he ... did he rape you?"

Jody felt herself blush.

Blus.h.i.+ng seemed very strange at a time like this, but there was definitely a feeling of embarra.s.sment, plus a sensation of heat rus.h.i.+ng to her skin. Weird. Almost funny, considering.

"Jeez, Dad," she muttered.

"I'm sorry. But ... did he?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't know?"

She focused down there. She forced some muscles to flex. "Doesn't feel like it," she said. "I mean, I'm not sure what it's supposed to feel like after something like that, but ... I'm pretty sure he didn't."

"Thank G.o.d," Dad murmured.

"What about you?" Jody asked.

"I'm pretty sure he didn't rape me, either."

"You don't know?"

She heard him laugh once, then groan. "Jesus, honey."

"It only hurts when you laugh?" she asked.

"h.e.l.l, it hurts no matter what."

"Are you bad?"

"I've always been bad."

"Now who's making the cracks?"

"Okay. I'll stop. Where ... were we?"

"Where did he hit you?"

"Easier if I tell you where he didn't."

"Dad."