Succubi Part 6

"I'm no f.a.ggot," Chad complained.

"Come on, folks," Charlie said. "Let's get playing."

What a cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k, Erik thought once they started going. Many of the pats were extrapyramidal, a neurological side effect of longterm phenothiazine therapy. Slow. Uncoordinated. Twitchy. One of the girls served and the ball didn't make it over the net. Erik thought once they started going. Many of the pats were extrapyramidal, a neurological side effect of longterm phenothiazine therapy. Slow. Uncoordinated. Twitchy. One of the girls served and the ball didn't make it over the net.

"My turn, thank G.o.d," Duke said, and batted the ball across. It went back and forth maybe twice before Harry the sterraphobe knocked it into the net.

"Jesus to Pete," Duke complained. "Can't any of you f.a.ggots play?"

"I'm telling you, Duke. Any more comments like that and you're back inside," Mike told him, standing aside.

"Your turn to serve, Erik," Nurse Dallion pointed out. They rotated. Erik took the ball.

"Come on, Erik, let's see a good one," Charlie said, and clapped.

"Aw, Erik can't serve for d.i.c.k," Duke yelled. "He's a f.a.ggot too, just like all of ya. Just like Chad."

"I'm no f.a.g!" Chad yelled, fists clenched at his sides.

"s.h.i.+t, you suck your daddy's d.i.c.k. He told me so last time he came to visit."

"He did not!"

Dawn started crying. "I can't play!" she screamed. "Not while Duke's here!"

"You go down on your mother, fizzlehead," Duke guffawed, and rubbed his crotch. "Why don't you just shut up and suck my k.n.o.b, huh?"

"That's it, Duke." Mike gave him a shove. "Inside."

Erik, still holding the ball, nodded.

"I f.u.c.ked your girlfriend," Duke reported to Mike. "I ever tell you that?"

Nurse Dallion commanded, "Get him inside, Mike. He's ruining this for everyone."

"She wasn't nearly as good as Nurse Dallion, though." Duke busted out a laugh. "Yeah, Nurse Dallion, she can suck a good one. Suck your b.a.l.l.s right out your d.i.c.khole."

Dawn sat down on the gra.s.s, bawling. Several other pats began to wander. Mike grabbed Duke by the collar and began escorting him off the field. "You just lost your Cla.s.s III, Duke."

"s.h.a.g my b.a.l.l.s, queer. Your girlfriend licks my crack."

"Now!" Erik yelled.

Duke lunged, then rammed his elbow back into Mike's throat. Simultaneously, Erik rocketed the volleyball into Charlie's face. Nurse Dallion was running up: "Erik, what are you-"

"Sorry," he said. He really was, because Nurse Dallion was nice. He slugged the heel of his palm right into her forehead. Suddenly, the pats were running all over the place. Erik glimpsed figures das.h.i.+ng. Duke was stomping Mike's face, then breaking. "Motherf.u.c.kers!" Charlie yelled. Erik had time to palmheel Nurse Dallion in the head again, and that was it for her. Charlie grabbed him, lifted him up, and Erik spun. He raked Charlie's gla.s.ses off, kicked him in the groin, then stomped on the gla.s.ses. They crunched.

Charlie's teeth were gritted in pain. One hand held his groin, the other reached out. "I'm sorry," Erik grated, and kicked him in the head.

Erik broke for the trees.

Two minutes, he told himself. he told himself. If we're lucky. If we're lucky.

Mike, Charlie, and Nurse Dallion were all out cold. The pats fled every which way. "Fly, Fleance! Fly!" Harry the sterraphobe quoted Shakespeare. Dawn was still blubbering in the gra.s.s, while Chad shouted to the sky, "I'm no f.a.g!" as he urinated on the net post.

Erik disappeared behind the stand of trees.

"I took care of this big f.u.c.ker sure as s.h.i.+t," Duke was gloating. The lawn super lay limp. Duke pulled two clumps of keys out of the guy's overalls, and his wallet.

"Jesus Christ!" Erik yelled. "You killed the guy!"

Duke looked up, disinterested. The supervisor's neck was broken. Erik grabbed the keys and gratingly shouted, "Come on!"

The lock on the service gate was a big Rollings Mark IV with a tubular keyway. Erik fished out the only tubular key on the ring; the big lock snapped open instantly.

This is too easy, he considered. "Walk," he whispered to Duke. "Walk normal. We're just two lawn guys walking to our truck." he considered. "Walk," he whispered to Duke. "Walk normal. We're just two lawn guys walking to our truck."

Duke loped along beside him, whistling "Hail to the Redskins." The Ford keys had black plastic shrouds; Erik isolated them at once. Ten seconds later they were pulling the big pickup out of the lot.

"s.h.i.+t yeah!" Duke exclaimed. "The f.a.ggot was right! We're out of this s.h.i.+thole!"

"We're not out yet," Erik reminded him. "We still have the main entrance to get by, and the security guards."

"Those creamcakes? I'll bust all their heads."

"You shouldn't have killed that guy."

"f.u.c.k him. Killed Mike too, the f.a.ggot. Heard his windpipe crunch." Duke laughed. "Sounded like steppin' on walnuts."

Jesus, Erik thought. "Get ready to talk," he grated. "I can't talk, so you're going to have to." Erik thought. "Get ready to talk," he grated. "I can't talk, so you're going to have to."

This was what would make or break them; Erik doubted Duke's expertise at method acting. Quickly, Erik opened the super's wallet. "Phillip Alan Richards," read the name on the driver's license. In the back of the pickup were several five-gallon gas cans. "Tell them we're making a fuel run for Mr. Richards," he said.

"Fuel run, sure."

The guard at the entrance stopped them. The gate was down. s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, Erik thought. He might have to drive through. He might have to kill the guard, and he didn't want to do that. Erik thought. He might have to drive through. He might have to kill the guard, and he didn't want to do that.

"We're makin' a fuel run for Mr. Richards," Duke said. "Lawn King."

The guard nodded. He handed Erik a clipboard through the window. A signout log, A signout log, Erik thought. He scribbled a name, wrote the time in the Out column, then paused. Tag Number, the next column requested. His eyes scanned up the sheet, found the name Richards signed in at 7:23 a.m., put the following tag number in his column, then pa.s.sed the clipboard back to the guard. The guard glanced into the pickup bed. Then he glanced in the cab again. Erik thought. He scribbled a name, wrote the time in the Out column, then paused. Tag Number, the next column requested. His eyes scanned up the sheet, found the name Richards signed in at 7:23 a.m., put the following tag number in his column, then pa.s.sed the clipboard back to the guard. The guard glanced into the pickup bed. Then he glanced in the cab again.

"Later, guys." He raised the gate and waved them on.

Erik pulled through. Slow, Slow, he thought. he thought. Normal. A Normal. A moment later he heard the phone ringing in the guard booth. Erik turned the pickup truck off the court and onto the main road. moment later he heard the phone ringing in the guard booth. Erik turned the pickup truck off the court and onto the main road.

Ten seconds later the elopement alarm began to blare at the hospital.

Erik pressed the accelerator to the floor.

Chapter 5.

The old man saw horror in his mind. He saw them. them.

He saw them naked, praying before their blasphemous slab.

He saw their open faces, their soft hands reaching out-for something. What? The sound of their incantations made him sick, but not nearly as sick as the things they'd made him do. Scieror, Scieror, they'd dubbed him-a cutter. they'd dubbed him-a cutter. Bring us aelmesse. Wihan to this pig. Bring us aelmesse. Wihan to this pig.

He couldn't resist them, none of them could. He'd been good with the cnif, a master; the sensation defied description. To flense a woman, to fillet a man. Once they'd made him cut off a girl's head and bleed her into the chettle. Broo for the cuppe! Broo for the cuppe! and they'd laughed, drinking. Then they'd made him watch as several wreccans had fornicated with the corpse. and they'd laughed, drinking. Then they'd made him watch as several wreccans had fornicated with the corpse.

Give lof! they'd cry. they'd cry. Give lof! Give lof!

Others stoked the fire, for smaller and more potent lof.

He'd even eaten with them.

"Don't worry, dear," came the wifmunuc's soft voice now. "This will make you feel better."

"No, please." They're killing me, They're killing me, he thought. he thought.

Several figures surrounded him. He lay paralyzed on the bed. They'd been doing this to him for weeks now-he felt more dead every day. Several of the younger ones looked on from behind, their faces bright in wonder, their naked bodies glowing in youth. But he was wizened now, shriveled like a dried fruit.

"You're sure this is safe?"

A man's voice replied, "Quite sure. It merely r.e.t.a.r.ds the heart rate for a time and restricts the cerebral blood vessels. The brain damage will be minor but significant enough to produce the desired effects."

"Good. Just don't kill him."

A needle jabbed his arm. A cold rush.

From her black mentel, the wifmunuc extended her hand. "Come, girls. You may come and touch."

They approached timidly at first, then scampered forward. Their small b.r.e.a.s.t.s bobbed as they leaned over. When the syringe was retracted, one licked the blood off the puncture. Soon the hands roved his old skin. They giggled.

"It's providence," whispered the wifmunuc. "What a wondrous thing, yes? To lay our hands upon the flesh of providence."

The girls seemed awed. They were finicking with him, like an animal at a petting zoo. I'm a showpiece, I'm a showpiece, he thought as his vision darkened. The room felt warm, his blood turned to sludge. He shuddered as a soft hand gently squeezed his genitals. he thought as his vision darkened. The room felt warm, his blood turned to sludge. He shuddered as a soft hand gently squeezed his genitals.

"No, honey, you mustn't do that. He's a very special special husl." husl."

The hand slipped away.

Just let me die, the old man thought. But they wouldn't do that. They'd kill him, instead, day to day, a piece at a time. Now he could scarcely see at all. the old man thought. But they wouldn't do that. They'd kill him, instead, day to day, a piece at a time. Now he could scarcely see at all.

Worse were the things he saw in his mind.

Just let me die and go to h.e.l.l.

"Enough," came the wifmunuc's maternal voice. "We mustn't get him too excited."

"Such lovely girls," commented the male voice.

"Yes, aren't they?"

The hands drifted away. The young figures stepped back.

"The doefolmon comes soon," elated the wifmunuc. "You can play tonight, if you like."

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed one.

"We'd like that!" exclaimed another.

"But you must eat first, for sustenance. Let us go and eat now."

The wifmunuc took the group of girls out of the room.

"Why are you doing this to me?" the old man managed to rasp.

The male figure turned. "Oh, come on, don't be like that. Like she said, it's providence, and you're part of it. We all are. It's a privilege."

He closed the bag he'd brought his needles and poisons in.

"Good night, old friend," he said.

The old man began to convulse.

Erik watched the rearview. "First off, we dump the truck."

"Huh?" Duke asked.

"They know what we're driving," Erik's voice grated. "You can bet they got an APB out on this truck. If we don't get rid of it right now, we're dead meat."

Duke didn't seem interested; he was rummaging through the lawn super's wallet. "s.h.i.+t," he spat. "All the motherf.u.c.ker had on him was six bucks. We need money, man."

"We can get money later. I got a stash."

Duke glanced over. "Whadaya mean?"

Erik had abducted a lot of people for them, for their hideous huslfeks. Most were runaways and drifters, but every now and then he'd run into someone with some money. Erik always took the money. For the years he'd served them, he'd socked away at least a thousand dollars. He kept it in the church bas.e.m.e.nt with his things.

"Just don't worry about it. I got all the money we need hidden back where I used to live."

"That where we're headed?"