Bullet Through Your Face (improved format) (8 page)

I’ll bust!
he thought.
“Yeah, boy!” Jory rooted. “Git it, brother! Stick that dirty girl!”
Hull kneed right up and pushed the baby-apple-sized glans into Gray’s
asshole. He shoved. Hull’s dick went into his colon, and Gray
threw up digested pumpkin mush. It felt like Hull had his entire
forearm up there. All Gray could do was squeeze tears from his eyes
and shudder.

“Bet he does,” Jory speculated. “Bet he’s gittin’ hard hisself.”
“Naw,” Hull confirmed. He grabbed Gray’s genitals, which
were limp as a handful of Jello.

Hull was rocking, driving into him, back and forth. Gray felt
skewered. His mind raced against the pain and monumental pressure.
“Aw, yeah, aw, yeah . . .” Gray was nearly unconscious when Hull
had his moment. He came like a gila monster vomiting, and when he
pulled out, Gray thought he was shitting a coffee can. He collapsed
and rolled over, exhausted.

“Sleep tight, hon,” Jory chuckled.
“This’ll be yer last nat, boy,” Hull informed.
“My last. . . . night?” Gray mumbled.
“I’ll’se be pickin’ up the rest’a the clear-coat tuh-marruh. Then we’ll be
finished with yer car.”
Jory was rebuckling his overalls. “But don’t’cha worry none.
We’ll be shore ta fuck ya one more tam ‘fore we kill ya.”
The brothers left laughing, slamming the door behind them.

And tomorrow they would throw the Kleenex in the trash.
When they were done “tricking” up his car, they’d simply sell it
and would, hence, need a new one. They’d have to get rid of Gray to
make room for the next poor sap.
And now he saw the cruellest truth for the first time. Could he
really blame Jory and Hull for their crimes? Could he really blame
the girl?
In truth, no. He could only blame himself.
I got myself into this
nightmare. It’s all my fault.
Nobody’d put a gun to his head the night
he picked Kari Ann up. He’d done it on his own accord, for lust, for
sex. Because she was available to
use.
God,
he thought now. Yes, God. Of all things, his thoughts
turned again to his Creator. Why shouldn’t God be infuriated with
him? This was his punishment, the tables turned. Blood and sperm
seeping out of his ass, he thought about his life now in an entirely
different way. Gray had willingly turned his back on the way life was
supposed to be, hadn’t he? He hadn’t really loved his first two wives,
he’d married them for their looks. And his other relationships? Same
thing. All the wrong reasons. People were supposed to be together
for a reason.
To be a part of each other’s life
,
to love each other and have kids
and raise them to the best of your ability. That’s what life’s all about,
not going to strip joints and picking up hookers.
Gray saw it now:
if there really was a God, Gray’s entire existence was an offense.
He’d chosen irresponsibility over commitment. He’d chosen crude
pleasure over morality.
There was a price to pay for that, and right now Gray was paying it.
He clasped his hands together, futilely. He hadn’t forgotten about the
final strand of possibility. Kari Ann. Maybe she wouldn’t
abandon him. Maybe—by the grace of God—she’d find a way to
get him out of here.

Please, God,
he prayed.
I know I’ve been a lousy person and
have offended Your laws, but please, PLEASE forgive me. I’m a
hypocritical chump, I KNOW that, but I promise if You can find some
way to forgive me, I’ll make good. I’ll change my life, I swear. Let
Kari Ann get me out of here and I SWEAR TO YOU, I’ll marry her
and be the father of her child, and I’ll do EVERYTHING IN MY
POWER to live a Christian life. I swear . . .

Gray sat against the wall, fallow in the muddy
flavescent light.
When he closed his eyes, he saw skiagraphic shapes that all seemed
to eventually meld into ax-forms. When he drifted off to sleep, he
dreamed of being raped by devils. If he died during the dream, what
would happen? Would he just stay there with the devils forever? If
so, he knew he’d deserve it.

“Hey.” A nudge. “You asleep?”
Did he smell hot pumpkin in the dream?
“Tam fer dinner . . .”
When Gray opened his eyes, Kari Ann was kneeling next to him with the next bucket of pumpkin.
“Oh,
Kari Ann . . .” Gray fell apart, hugging her. “I can’t take this any
more. You’ve got to help get me out of here. I swear, I’ll make you my
wife. Everything I do will be for you, and I’ll be a father for your
baby. I’ll never lie to you or cheat on you, I’ll devote my entire
life
to you.” And it all came pouring out. Gray clung to her, crying. “I
promise, I promise–I even promised God. We’ll live life the way it’s
supposed to be lived, and we’ll go to church and stuff like that. And
as for your baby . . .”
Shit,
he remembered.
The kid’s fucked up, got birth defects and a warped head . . .
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter to God, so why should it matter to
Gray? He took her hand, squeezed it, still sobbing into her lap. “I
make great money, Kari Ann. I’ll send your baby to the best special
schools, I’ll get her the best possible
care. I’ll be the father she never had.”

Kari Ann had tears in her eyes too. She stroked Gray’s cheek,
unmindful of the nearly full bucket of diarrhea, unfazed by his body
odor. “I know you’d do all those things, I kin see it in ya.”

“Then help me! All you’ve got to do is call the police!”
“Cain’t. Ain’t got no phone.”
Gray began to tremble.
“But here’s what I
can
do,” she began. She kissed him on the
forehead. “I been thinkin’‘bout it, an’it’s real risky . . . but I’m gonna
do it . . .”

Gray didn’t sleep the rest of the night. He was too excited, he was
pumped.
No, the lack of a phone would prevent Kari Ann from
calling the police, but she’d told him what she was going to do. She
wouldn’t
need
to call them; instead she’d go to them directly. Today,
when her brothers thought she was hitchhiking to work, she was
going to hitchhike to the police station instead. There was a county
sheriff’s department only a few miles away.

Just be ready.
The way Gray saw it, God was going to give him a break,
and Gray would keep his end of the bargain. It was time to give
something back.
There was enough chain to let him just get to the window. The
window wasn’t locked—why should it be? He was chained to the
floor. He couldn’t climb out, of course, but—
I can sure as shit open it.
The wood had part gone to rot; the frame had swollen. It took
Gray until a few hours after sun-up to work it free. Huffing and
puffing, he kept pushing upward until it began to give. A few times
he feared the window might pop out of the frame and land outside in
the yard (that would’ve been the end) but luck—or God—stayed on
his side. Gray pried the old window up a few inches, enough to be
heard through if he shouted.

He didn’t know what time it was but he guessed it must be early
afternoon when he heard the crunch of tires rolling over gravel.
Earlier, Jory had dropped the dismembered remains of the redneck
into the metal drum. Meanwhile Hull had applied the final coat of
lacquer to Gray’s formerly black Corvette.

Every false hope occurred to Gray: the vehicle he heard coming
up the weedy drive would just be the mailman, or some shady
business associate of Jory and Hull’s. No one on the driveway would
be able to see the horrific shenanigans going on in the yard, due to
the fence. But Jory and Hull heard the vehicle, too. They both froze
at once.