Surge (100 page)

Crouching down, I peel back a portion of the duct tape with my left hand and yank it the rest of the way, there really is no better way to remove it. Okay, fine, I could have taken another thirty seconds to pull it gently, but why should I? This crazy bitch is the reason Olivia had to have her fucking throat pried open, Cory and I got burned, and why we lost the hens and Lenny. Yes it’s a stretch, but if Kelly hadn’t burned their shit, we would have never even gone to the fucking outlets from hell, and Marissa wouldn’t have been bitten. So, I hold this bitch accountable for three deaths.

“Where is she?” I demand. Kelly scowls at me.

“How about a
‘Hi Kelly,’
or a
‘glad you made it’
?” Kelly asks. Jesus Christ, when’s the last time she brushed her teeth? I take a step back to get away from her muck mouth that’s unleashing shit that could peel wallpaper.

“Um, no,” I reply. “I’m not glad you made it and you lost the right to pleasantries when you burned down my fucking house.”

“That wasn’t your house,” she says.

“Were we staying in it?” I ask she nods. “That makes it mine, but that’s beside the point. You’re being a murdering arsonist doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is finding Olivia, now tell me where she went.”

“So, it’s all about the slut still,” Kelly says and there’s a crazed gleam in her eye. “You should have let her burn Jarry, she’s evil. Devil’s spawn that seduces you to do her wicked bidding.” I slap the duct tape over her rancid mouth.

“We’re not listening to your psychobabble, so shut the fuck up,” I order. “Point me in the direction Olivia headed, and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Kelly’s eyes further squint to a scowl that shows her crow’s feet. How we ever thought that she was twenty is unbelievable. Probably all the makeup she used and the bleached hair, but this bitch ain’t twenty-seven either. I’m guessing it to be around thirty-three-ish with the amount of lines her face has accumulated and her roots are an ugly mousy blonde color mixed with grey.

“Which direction, you hag?”

“It might be easier to tell you the direction if you didn’t tape her mouth,” Patsy says dryly. “Or point out the direction if she were able to move her hands.” Oops, forgot about that. Still no way I’m cutting her loose though, I’ll deal with psycho talk as opposed to crazed actions, so I loosen up the tape again.

“Where?”

“I’m not telling you,” she says with a smug smile.

“T-tell us w-where she w-went,” Tommy demands. Kelly’s attention snaps to him.

“Look, it’s the devil’s whore’s retarded minion, Studdering Stanley,” Kelly says with a cackle. Tommy’s face flushes as he tucks his chin in his jacket collar. I grip the bitch’s chin and turn her attention back to me.

“He’s not retarded, you cunt, he’s different,” I hiss. “You leave him the fuck alone or I’ll let him try out some of his medical knowledge on you, got it?” Kelly’s eyes widen a little, but I don’t get a further response. “That’s not an answer, would you like to meet Tommy’s scalpel, or not?”

“N-no,” she stutters out.

“Oh look, it’s Stuttering Skank,” John says. “Did S.S. slut face happen to see which way our beloved angel named Olivia wandered off to?” Kelly growls at him.

“You’re mine,” she snarls.

“Fuck off and answer the question already,” John says. “I’ve had enough of that haggard mug looking at me.” Kelly bares her stank teeth at him, and he takes a step back.

“Enough,” Cory says and shoves me out of the way. He gets three inches away from Kelly’s face, either ignoring the stench coming off of her, or not caring as he grips her hair and pulls her up to meet his furious gaze. “You tell me where the fuck she went, or I’ll string you up by your intestines and leave you for the bears.” Kelly audibly swallows.

“I-I didn’t s-see,” she whispers.

“You sure,” Cory demands. “Because I can smell a fucking lie off of someone.” Kelly’s eyes widen even more. “That’s what I thought, tell me what you know, and I might let you live.”

“She s-said something a-about h-hillbilly assh-holes,” Kelly says.

“Mother fucker,” Cory mutters as he tosses Kelly aside. “I know which direction.”

“Kittery?” I ask and he nods. “Looks like we’ll need the van.”

“Who got the keys?” Carlos asks.

“Olivia’s the last one that drove,” Oscar replies.

“Fuck, did she take them then?”

“Nope,” Cory says as he jingles keys in his hand. “I took them. Now let’s get moving.”

“What’re doing with Arson Annie?” Wally asks.

“Shove her in the trunk,” I reply with a shrug.

“Take her with us,” Cory says. “We’ll toss her on the side of the road if we must, but that bitch isn’t desecrating my baby anymore.”

“Fine,” I agree. “But you’re carrying her.”

“No, I’ll untie her legs, and she can walk,” Cory counters. He crouches down in front of Kelly. “And if she tries to run, we’ll go with plan b, you remember what that is? It involves intestines.” Kelly nods vigorously. “Good, that also goes for talking. You don’t talk unless spoken to, and only then to answer our questions. One comment about Olivia, or anyone else, and you’ll be swinging like a piñata.” Once Kelly gives her nod of consent, Cory pulls a knife from his holster and cuts away the triple knot in the back. Adjusting it slightly, it now only binds her hands.

“You sure that’ll hold?” Ace inquires with a look at Cory’s knot.

“I’ve been hog tying cattle since before you were born,” Cory says.

“That would make you two,” Patsy says and holds up his fingers. “Pretty damn talented to be able to rope a cattle, drag ‘em in, and tie him when you’re barely able to toddle.”

“Stop being some damn technical,” Wally orders. “If he says it’ll hold, it’ll hold.”

“It will,” Cory confirms. “Now can we stop the damn chit chat and get a move on already?”

“Back in formation,” Wally calls out. I raise my hand, to which Wally rolls his eyes and points at me.

“What’s with the triangles?”

“It allows the one leading the way to take point, but doesn’t restrict the sight of the ones following,” Wally answers.

“And allows more people to watch the back,” Webby adds. “Multiple sets of ears to hear whatever might be sneaking up on you.”

“That makes sense.”

“Any more questions?” Wally asks. Everyone shakes their head. “Then, move out.” Wally points at Cory. “You take point.”

Cory nods as he jogs to take Wally’s position while Wally takes up Cory’s. I grab hold of Kelly’s rope and tug her to her feet. She has no duct tape over her mouth, but she hasn’t said a word. I don’t know if she’s finally learned to shut the fuck up, or if it’s the fear for her life that’s making her mum, but whatever it is, it’s working. I tie the end of the rope to my pant loop and motion for her to get in front of me. Surprisingly, she does. Hell, if she stays this compliant, I may just let her live after all.

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~><~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~>

Then again, maybe not. It took us two hours of trudging through the woods, but we finally made it back to the van without any hiccups. It was when we were on the road for an hour, that Kelly’s chatter began.

“Where’s Chelsea? Is this blood? Where’s that bitch, Marissa? Whose blood is this? Is anyone listening to me? Hello? I’m talking to you.”

“Did we already forget my rules?” Cory calls from the front. Kelly immediately snaps her mouth shut. “That’s your only warning. No talking, unless someone asks you a question.”

Kelly nods and sits back in the seat Chelsea had her last stand in. The boys may have cleaned it with every cleaning product they could find, but the fabric on the seat stained anyway. Which would be why Kelly made a disgusted face, and began firing off her own game twenty-one questions; none of them she received an answer to.

We have eleven passengers this time, that being Cory and Tommy up front, John and me behind them, Carlos and Oscar behind us, Wally, Webby and Ace in row three, leaving Patsy with Kelly in row four. At least he has a seat between them, but I have seen the friendly, if somewhat of a wise-ass, scowl at the babbling blonde. It seems that even his tolerance level is breached when it comes to screeching voices that sound worse than nails grating on a chalkboard.

“How much longer we got, Tommy?” John asks.

“Five hours,” he answers.

That’s another change that I’ve just started noticing. John and Tommy have made up, as far as I knew, they haven’t spoken since Tommy punched John and blamed him for Leonard’s death, but they must have made up without an audience since their back to rights. Which is a good thing. Tommy’s shy enough, and to have tension with one of the few people that you can converse with without fear of stuttering, then it actually bites you in the ass.

“Another five hours until we reach the outlets,” John says. “But where do we go from there? And how do you know that’s where she went?”

“We were all a little distracted the last time we left the outlets,” Cory says. “But when we came the last time, Livs and I made a supply run of our own.”

“You fuckers left the van?” John interrupts and immediately looks at me. “What about you? You go on a shop a thon too?”

“No, I filled the tanks,” I reply. John glares at me, so I hold my hands up in a
‘what’
gesture. “Would you have rather me gone shopping?”

“No, I would have rathered you sit your burned ass on the seat like I told you to,” John retorts.

“Whatever, Cory tell him the rest already,” I say.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Cory hisses and glances at me in the rear view mirror. “You’re still on my shit list.” I wave my hand at him, I’ll make it up to him somehow. “Anyway, I’ll tell it because John asked me to, not you Freddy. Liv and I made a run inside. We went to the pet store, Spencer’s and Wilsons. Livi wanted to change into her new gear, so I let her go inside the restroom alone. Little did I know that some fuckers were either inside already, or they came through the opposite entrance, however the fuck they got in, they seen Livs and decided to have a little play time. Olivia wasn’t a willing playmate, so I ran in when I heard glass breaking. Livs had one dead on the floor, another near death, one cupping his balls and the last one who was holding her arms was sporting a black eye.”

“That’s my baby girl,” Wally says. I can’t see his face, but I can hear the proud grin in his voice.

“So Ollie kicked ass,” Patsy says from the back. “It’s what she does, but what makes these assholes any different from any Tom, Dick or Harry?”

“I don’t know,” Cory says with a puzzled expression. “But Kelly said something about hillbilly assholes, and they were the first thing that came to mind. Livi never talked about them, since she had her trach tube in, but she must’ve known them from somewhere. Why else would she have brought them up?”

“She never talked to me about them either,” I comment. “And that coincides with her not wanting us involved, so if they were connected to Cole in some way, that would make sense. What I don’t get is what the fuck they’re doing all the way up here.”

“Supplies must be getting sparse,” Webby says. “Did you have to spread your hunting grounds?”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “So, I guess that would make sense.”

“Especially with the amount of people he has to support,” John says. “Fifty of them were on a single raid for fifteen people, how many more does he have to spare?”

“Fuck, we could be going up against a hundred easy,” I say.

“I’d say that’s why Ollie didn’t want anyone going with her,” Ace remarks. “After all, if you only have yourself to accountable for, you don’t have to worry about getting anyone else killed.”

“Not to mention she doesn’t give a shit what happens to herself,” I say bitterly. “She gave up on life the day she lost everything.”

“Alright, enough of this depressing bull shit,” John orders. “Tommy, pop one of Livia’s CDs in before we start applying massive amounts of black eyeliner, nut hugging skinny jeans, and being a pack on whining emo bitches.”

“True dat,” Patsy says. “My balls like to breathe and dark makeup doesn’t go well with my complexion.”

“Nothing goes well with your complexion,” Ace mutters.

I hear the distinct sound of a punch landing somewhere along with a grunt before Tommy manages to pop in one of the discs Olivia left in the glove compartment. Afroman’s “Because I Got High” comes out of the speakers.