Rot (3 page)

“Like something to take the chill off?”

“I don’t need it. Do you?”

Kyle shoved the bottle back into the glove box. He put an arm around Marianne and drew her toward him. She came with no resistance. He kissed her mouth, finding her lips incredibly soft and sweet tasting. He slid a hand down the curve of her back to her hip. She moved willingly under his touch.

Say what you want about these boring family sedans, the old bench seat had its advantages
.

Several minutes later she eased away from him for a moment. The rain had stopped, but neither of them noticed. Both were breathing hard.

“You know you’re going to have to stop before this goes too far,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because you are, that’s all. Maybe I’m not Mary Pop-pins, but I’m not a slut either.”

“I know you’re not,” he said and slid his hand up under her dress to the moist nylon of her crotch.

She let him stay there for a precious second, then grasped his wrist and firmly removed the hand. “So nothing is going to happen tonight. I just want you to know that now so you won’t be moaning and groaning all the way home.”

“Whatever you say.”

He lowered his head and tasted the salty sweetness in the crevice between her breasts. She moaned softly.

Bang!
The door on his side burst open and a powerful hand gripped his collar, yanking him back away from the girl.

“What the hell — ” A rock-hard fist hit him in the mouth and he tasted blood. A solid forearm clamped his Adam’s apple in a choke hold making him gag.

As he was dragged backwards from the car the other door was yanked open. Marianne yelled.

Kyle hit the mud with his back. He tried to struggle upright and a boot thudded against the side of his head. He fell back with pinpoints of colored lights whirling behind his eyes. He blinked rapidly. His vision cleared just long enough for him to see the acne-scarred face of Fabian Gerstner, the punk biker. The nose was still puffed from where Kyle had hit him, and the upper lip peeled back in a simian sneer. As Kyle tried to rise, somebody pulled him back by the hair. Fabian’s motorcycle boot caught him in the ribs.

He rolled his head toward a whimpering sound. Marianne was being dragged across the ground toward a dark brown van. A barrel-shaped man in mechanic’s coveralls had a huge hand clamped over her mouth.

This could not be happening. This was the Heartland. Norman Rockwell Smalltown, America, not the mean streets of downtown Los Angeles. Kyle scrambled to his knees and made a lunge toward the man dragging Marianne. His head was snapped back again by whoever had a fistful of his hair. He rolled his eyes up to see a lean, mean face with glittery eyes and the sneering Gerstner mouth. Fabian kicked him again while the skinny one held him. Kyle could not suppress a grunt of pain.

“How do you like it, California Hotshit?” That from Fabian.

Another kick set the pin lights dancing again. Through patchy fog he watched helplessly as Marianne was dragged backwards away from him.

The boot clubbed the side of his head again. Kyle’s ears filled with a sound like rushing water. The rainy night went black.

Lloyd Gerstner locked both of the girl’s wrists in one of his powerful hands. He pulled her across the muddy ground in a series of cruel jerks toward the van. Marianne raised her head as he dragged her, enough to see the other two brothers kicking at Kyle as he lay curled on the ground. Every time he tried to rise they battered him down again. She screamed. Lloyd yanked her up by the wrists and hit her hard across the mouth.

“Shut up, bitch.” The words were said calmly, almost patiently.

Marianne pulled in her breath in a shuddering sob. Lloyd continued to drag her towards the van as effortlessly as though she were stuffed with feathers. With her arms immobilized she started to thrash with her feet. All that accomplished was to dislodge her shoes and get her legs thoroughly muddied.

Jesse Gerstner watched with dry mouth as his brother reached the door of the van with his burden. He looked down at Kyle, senseless on the ground, and gave him a farewell kick in the ribs.

“Think you can handle surfer boy now?” he asked his brother.

Fabian gave him a scowl. “I can handle him any time I’ve got him in front of me.”

“Good.” Jesse trotted across the mud to the rear of the van. He seized Marianne’s ankles, laughing at her struggles. With Lloyd swinging her by the wrists the two brothers tossed her like a sack of grain into the back of the van.

Her arm caught on a sharp protuberance that ripped a gash in the soft flesh of the underside. She hit the thin mattress on the floor with her tailbone and squealed in pain. Lloyd climbed in, looming huge in the doorway. Jesse followed.

“Any more noise, bitch, and I’m
really
gonna hit you,” Lloyd said.

“Let me go. You don’t want to do this.”

Lloyd drew back a meaty fist and smashed her in the face. “I warned you.”

The interior of the van darkened and blurred. Marianne blinked back the tears and saw him poised to punch her again. She choked off the scream.

“That’s better.” He traced a forefinger down her throat into the cleft between her breasts. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, so like the fella says, relax and enjoy it.”

She could not believe a man had actually said that. She vowed never to scoff at the militant feminists again. If she lived through this.

“Want me to go first?” Jesse said. “Warm her up for you?”

“Fuck no, I don’t want you to go first. I’m the big brother, remember? After I get mine, you’re next.”

“Sure, Lloyd, I just thought — ”

“Don’t think, just get in line.”

“It’s okay if I watch, isn’t it?”

“What do you think this is, a show? Go on out and help little brother keep the boyfriend quiet. I hear he didn’t do so good on his own.”

Jesse looked down at Marianne, licked his lips, and went out reluctantly. Lloyd pulled the door closed.

She stared back at him, trying not to show the icy fear that paralyzed her. “Don’t hurt me.”
God, what a stupid thing to say. Of course he’s going to hurt me
.

“Well, that pretty much depends on you, doesn’t it,” he said. “You be nice to me and I won’t hurt you. Is it a deal?”

Her hands crossed reflexively across her breasts.
Oh, you fat, dirty pig. Be nice? I’d kill you if I could. I’d really kill you
.

Lloyd grasped her wrist and easily pulled her arm away from her body. He squeezed her breast. “Don’t hide these babies, sweet thing. If you got ‘em, flash ‘em. Isn’t that what the kids say.”

Marianne could only whimper. She tasted her fear, cold and metallic, and hated herself for her weakness.

“You want to take the clothes off now?”

She stared at him, unable to move.
This can’t be happening to me. This happens to nameless women on dark dirty streets in Milwaukee or Chicago, not on the carnival grounds in Elkhorn City, Wisconsin. Not to Marianne Avery
.

Lloyd’s face darkened. “I ain’t got all night. Take ’em off or I’ll rip ’em off.”

I’ve got to get away. I can’t let this happen to me
. Awkwardly she scrambled to her knees and lunged for the door handle. Lloyd caught her by the hair and yanked her back cruelly.

I won’t cry. I won’t. You can’t make me cry
.

He slapped her with his hard palm, then with the back of his hand and grabbed a fistful of blouse at her throat. He jerked savagely at the material. Buttons popped off and rattled about the van.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

Lloyd rocked back and watched with glittery eyes as Marianne carefully removed the torn top and laid it aside. She hesitated. When Lloyd started to move toward her she reached back and unhooked her bra.

At least I can stop him from ruining my clothes. What a silly thing to worry about at a time like this. But what are my choices? Fight? No chance. He’s much too strong. Scream? That would just make him angry. And there’s no one to hear me, anyway. Try to talk him out of it? Oh, sure, big chance of that with an animal like Lloyd Gerstner. What was left? Submit.
“Relax and enjoy it.”
Oh, yes!

“Move, dammit. Get those fucking clothes off, bitch.”

She laid her bra aside and unzipped the Ultrasuede skirt. She pushed it down her legs and over her feet.

Lloyd Gerstner licked his dry lips. “That’s the ticket. Now the pantyhose.”

She closed her eyes and bit the insides of her cheeks as she hooked her thumbs under the waistband and slid the pantyhose down and off. She could not get the cruel joke out of her mind.
Relax and enjoy it … enjoy it … enjoy it
.

Lloyd tossed his corduroy jacket aside. He unbuckled his pants, sat down to pull them off, keeping his eyes on Marianne. He peeled off the soiled white jockey shorts. In spite of herself, Marianne could not look away from his short, thick penis. He grasped the member in one hand and pulled her head toward him with the other.

“Kiss it, honey. Say hello to Junior.”

Think of something else. Think of the last football game of the season between Bischoff and Clintonville.

She felt the rubbery head of his cock against her lips.

It hadn’t been a good season for the Bisons and they were not expected to do much against the undefeated Clintonville team.

“That’s the babe. Now let’s see you suck it.”

In the fourth quarter Bischoff was behind only 14-12. The Bisons had the ball at the Cougars’ 20-yardline. The kids were going wild.

“Suck. Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh
yeah
! Junior loves it. Do it, honey.”

The game was so exciting she and the other girls on the Pep Squad almost forgot to cheer. Red and white fight, fight, red and white fight, fight! Gooooooo Bisons!

“Okay, that’s enough. Junior’s ready for action.”

The hateful thing was pulled from her mouth. The taste, salt and something like ammonia, stayed. Her legs were pulled apart. Lloyd Gerstner’s gross body dropped on top of hers. His fingers prodded between her legs. Then his thick, dripping penis pushed into her.

Oh, God the football game. Let me go back to the football game. Please. Oh, God he’s in me and pumping, pumping. It hurts. I’m going to be sick. Oh, no, nooo, nooooo!

She felt the hot spurt of his sperm. He barked his pleasure and collapsed on top of her while his cock shrank back to its normal stubby size.

He’s through. It’s over, and I’m still alive. I’ll get clean and I’ll douche his stinking juice out of me. I’ll forget about it in time. I’ll be all right.

He pulled out of her and wiped himself with his shorts. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She reached for her clothes. Standing bent over above her, Lloyd kicked them away from her into a corner of the van.

“Don’t be in such a hurry. My brothers are out there waiting, remember?”

She tried to speak, but it came out in a long, wordless wail.

Keeping an eye on her, Lloyd opened the door of the van just far enough for him to call out.

“Hey, Jesse. She’s ready for you.”

Marianne fell back to the floor of the van. Darkness closed in as she sent her mind to someplace far away.

Time did not exist. He was in no place. There was only pain and rage and intermittent blackness. With his ribs on fire and his head pounding with each agonizing heartbeat Kyle eventually gave up any attempt to stand up and fight back. He lay passively on the wet ground, his arms pinned by one or more of his attackers, another always ready with a kick if he showed signs of resistance. He was dimly aware that they changed places from time to time. He heard the back door of the van open and close. Once he heard Marianne cry out. He slipped at last into a cold, empty cavern of his mind.

When feelings began to return, his first sensation was a bone rattling chill. Then the wetness of the ground underneath him. Then the pain. His head throbbed, his chest cramped with each breath. He retched and tasted vomit. The effort made his head hurt worse.

Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes and looked around. And he remembered. The rain had diminished to a steady mist. The parking lot was a sea of mud. Only scattered cars were still there. The Plymouth stood where he had parked it, water beading on the wax job he had so carefully applied. The van and the three assailants were gone.

He rolled his head to one side and saw Marianne. She sat on the muddy ground with her back against the tree trunk, hugging her knees, looking straight ahead. Water dripped steadily from the leaves onto her huddled body. Marianne did not notice. Her strawberry hair was wet and limp, strands haphazardly pasted to her face. One cheek was scraped raw. Blood oozed from a deep cut on her forearm. The white blouse was torn, exposing one breast. The green skirt was bunched high on her legs. The insides of her thighs were scraped raw.

Overcoming the pain throughout his body, Kyle levered himself to a sitting position. “Where are they?” His voice rasped.

“They’re gone. I thought they’d killed you.”

“What did they do to you?”

“What do you think?”

“Bastards! Were they who I think they were?”

Marianne nodded slowly. “The ones I told you about. The Gerstner brothers. You met Fabian. The big one’s Lloyd. The thin one’s Jesse.”

“Have you called the police?”

“No.”

“Well, let’s go do it.” He pushed himself to his feet, testing his ribs with careful fingertips. Painful, but not broken.

Marianne did not move. “It wouldn’t do any good.”

“What?”

“Calling the police.”

“Are you crazy? They raped you.”

“They’re the Gerstners. They do what they want.”

“Marianne, listen to me. There are laws. They can put those assholes away for a long time.”

“Maybe, and maybe not. Even if they did, do you know who the real loser would be? Me. What do you think my life would be like from now on? All I want is to live in my home town, get married, and be happy. If people find out what I did they’ll never think of me without thinking
dirty
.”

“What
you
did?! Jesus, Marianne, you’re the victim here. Nobody can put any blame on you.”

“Oh, no? Look at me.” She squirmed around to face him, held her arms wide and spread her legs, showing him her assaulted womanhood. “Look at this and tell me you still want me. Tell me I’m not unclean.”

“That’s foolish,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. In his heart he knew he could never feel comfortable with the girl again, knowing she had been used by those pigs. It was unfair. It was unjust. But it was true.

“See what I mean,” she said, as though she had read his thoughts. “You can go back to California and forget all about tonight. I have to live in my town.”

“But those … those Gerstners will be walking around free.”

“They live here in Elkhorn City. They don’t come into Bischoff much. When they do I can stay out of their way.” Awkwardly she rose to her feet. “Take me home now. I’ll have to sneak into the house and get cleaned up before my parents see me.”

“Jesus, Marianne, this is wrong.” Underneath his rage at the Gerstner brothers and his compassion for Marianne grew another, even more powerful emotion. Shame. Shame for the girl, and shame for himself that he had failed to protect her. Rationally he knew that he had no chance, taken by surprise as he was, against the three of them. But he should have done something. And he did not. He searched Marianne’s face for some hint of reproach, but her expression told him nothing. In time, he was sure, she would come to blame him and hate him for what he had failed to do.

“Just take me home,” she said.

“If that’s what you want. Let’s go.”

Marianne ignored his offered hand and walked shakily to the car. She got in without assistance. He climbed into the driver’s seat, the pain of his beating overridden by rage and humiliation. He buckled the seat belt and fired the engine. The rain picked up again. With the windshield wipers smacking the water aside, he drove out of the parking lot.

The Ferris wheel and the Octopus were dark. The carnival stands were closed and shuttered. The music and lights were long gone from the armory. The carnival was ended. Kyle found the road out of town and headed for Bischoff. Neither he nor Marianne spoke. There was nothing to be said.

The rain came back in heavy bursts, alternating with periods of light drizzle. The windshield wipers left curving streaks where the aging rubber blades failed to clear the glass. A rising wind whipped the trees that crowded the highway into a frenzied dance.

Kyle’s thoughts were black. His manhood cried out for revenge, but his brain told him it was foolish. He was in the Gerstner’s home territory, any attempt to get even could only cost him. To his chagrin, what he wanted most right now was to get this girl home, drop her off, and escape. Tonight’s terror would haunt him for a while, and the bruises would hurt, but he was young and resilient. He would get over it and get on with his life once he was far away from Marianne.

“Look out!”

Her cry startled him. They were the first words she had spoken since they left the parking lot in Elkhorn City. He looked at her in alarm, saw her staring straight ahead. He looked back to see a wind-fallen tree across the road. Reflexively he stomped the brake pedal. The brakes grabbed, the car slewed sideways on the wet pavement, teetered and rolled.

The Wisconsin countryside turned upside down. A rush of wind blasted through the car as both doors flew open. Screeching metal, breaking glass. A shower of small loose objects tumbled about the interior of the car. Rightside up again, bouncing on the springs, a last forward lunge and the nose of the car dipped into the roadside ditch, stopping short of the rivulet of rainwater in the bottom. Remarkably the headlights were still on, beaming down into the water. The right-hand door swung wide. The passenger seat was empty.

The engine labored and died. Instinctively Kyle reached down and turned off the ignition. Windows were spidered on both sides, but the safety glass had not shattered. The roof was caved in above his head.

Moving gingerly, Kyle unlocked the seat belt at his waist. Had Marianne buckled hers? He could not remember. He ran a hand over his body. He hurt in a dozen places, but he was hurting before the crash. Carefully he tried moving his arms and legs. All his limbs responded. No sudden sharp pains meant no broken bones. His lucky night. He shoved past the partly open door and got out.

The night was black as his mood, with the only illumination a reflection from the Plymouth’s headlights. The rain had stopped for the moment. The silence of the night was broken only by the steady rustle from the dripping roadside trees. It took him a moment to get his bearings, then he saw Marianne. She lay on her back near the center of the road next to the fallen tree.

He ran to her side and knelt. “Marianne!”

No response.

He could see no obvious bruises other than the cut on her forearm she had sustained during the attack by the brothers. What bothered him, what squeezed his heart in a cold fist, was that her head lay canted at an impossible angle. Impossible for a living person.

He seized her wrist, scrabbled with his fingers for a pulse, felt nothing. He put his ear to the soft, damp flesh above the neckline of her blouse. He held his breath and listened, praying for a heartbeat.

Silence.

“Oh, Jesus, no! No! No!
No!”

The silent dripping night mocked his cry.

Kyle stumbled to his feet. He pulled off his jacket and lay it over the motionless girl, pulling it up to her chin. Even as he did so he thought what a foolish, futile gesture it was.

He ran back to the car. As far as he could tell it was still driveable. Should he try to put Marianne inside? Could he do further damage by moving her? Should he leave her here and drive for help? His head ached with confusion and indecision. He ran back to the center of the road and looked back the way they had come and forward beyond the fallen tree. Darkness.

Then, suddenly, headlights from the direction of Elkhorn City appeared through the mist half a mile away. Kyle stood over Marianne’s body, in front of the fallen tree, wigwagging his arms. The headlights came to a stop ten feet away. Kyle shaded his eyes and saw that the vehicle was a battered old pickup with a camper shell riding slightly askew on the bed. The driver’s door opened and closed. A tall, very thin man walked around and into the glare of the lights. The silhouette was somehow familiar.

“Do you need help?”

“The girl … we’ve got to get her to a hospital?”
The
girl, not
my
girl. Even in his near panic Kyle recognized the subtle distancing of himself from Marianne. He also recognized the absurdity. No hospital was going to help her. Not now, not ever.

The tall stranger confirmed this. He knelt by Marianne, touched her face, and looked up solemnly. Kyle caught a blast of garlic as the man spoke.

“The girl is dead.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Kyle buried his face in his hands. He wanted to cry, but the sob caught in his throat. He took his hands away and looked at the man who now stood directly in front of him. Then he remembered. Just hours earlier he had seen him in front of a tent at the cheap carnival.
The Mysterious Dorando
.

“You fought for my son when no one else would help. I owe you. Tell me what you would have.”

Kyle gave a bitter, coughing laugh. “What I would have? I’d have this girl get up and walk and talk again. Can you handle that?”

“Is this truly what you want? Think carefully.”

Kyle stared at the somber Gypsy. “Hey, I wasn’t serious.”

“I am.”

“Are you some kind of a doctor?”

“I am not a doctor. I have certain … powers.”

“Are you saying you can … you can bring her back?”

“If that is what you desire.”

Hysteria bubbled up in Kyle. “Yeah, sure, go ahead. What the hell have I got to lose. Sure. Bring her back!”

The Gypsy was silent for a long moment. His eyes were pinpoints of light in their deep sockets. He said, “Help me carry her to my truck.”

Dorando locked his arms around Marianne below her breasts. Kyle grasped her bare ankles. They lifted the girl from the blacktop pavement. Kyle shuddered at the cold, rubbery feeling of her flesh. Together they carried the limp burden to the rear of the camper. Dorando braced Marianne against his body and levered open the back door. Awkwardly they carried her inside. From the cab the gypsy boy watched silently.

There was not enough vertical room to stand erect. Hunched over, Kyle and the Gypsy lay Marianne on her back on a narrow pallet bolted to one wall. Dorando snapped on a battery powered overhead light. To Kyle the interior looked like a hopeless jumble of trash. Bottles, tins, paper bags, scraps of material, stale smelling clothing was scattered about with no apparent attempt at order. A deck of cards was spread out on a folding metal tray as though a game had been interrupted.

The Gypsy took Marianne’s chin in a lean brown hand and turned her face toward him. He thumbed open an eyelid. The eyeball had a dull sheen and an unfocused look. Dorando said something Kyle did not catch, and nodded to himself. Then the Gypsy turned to face him.

“I ask you once more. Do you truly want this?”

“Do I want her alive? Hell yes. If there’s anything you can do, please,
please
do it.”

“So be it. You wait outside. I don’t think you want to watch.”

Kyle started to protest, but changed his mind. The smell of the Gypsy and his camper were making him a little sick. He went outside and closed the door behind him.

Out in the cold wet night Kyle wondered what the hell he was doing. The hysteria drained out of him and he sat down weakly on the rear bumper of the camper. It was the worst night of his life. And it had all started with such promise. A date with the beautiful Marianne, Homecoming Queen, intended bride of his cousin. The dance, the drinks, the heavy breathing session back in the car. Then the world ended. The Gerstner brothers, pain, rape, the drive home, skidding, flipping, crashing in the ditch. Marianne dead in the road. How could there be a night worse than this one?

He began framing his explanations and his apologies. The accident really wasn’t his fault. It was the weather and the road condition. As for what happened to Marianne, maybe they wouldn’t examine the body closely enough to find she’d been raped. No, that was wishful thinking. He’d have to tell the whole story from the start, and damn the Gerstner brothers. It would make him look bad, first for not stopping the rape — nothing he could have done, but who would believe that — then for not reporting it. But who would worry about that, considering the girl was dead.

For sure he was going to have an unpleasant time of it, but it wouldn’t last forever. A month at most, and he could be out of here, back in the California sunshine with his buddies and the foxy beach girls. His parents would have to be told, but nobody else back home needed to know about this wretched night. Back to school in the fall and forget this detestable summer. God, how he wished he could fast-forward his life just that far.

The camper door opened, startling him. Dorando stood silhouetted in the pale light from inside.

“You can come in now,” the Gypsy said.