Rebecca smiled at him and whispered, “Come over here where the others can’t see…”
She took him by the hand and led him around the camper. Out at the tents, the eldest of the three friends (Carlo) shook his head and sighed.
“It’s wasted on him. I’m telling you right now, gentlemen: the boy won’t have the slightest clue what to do with her.”
“Horseshit,” said the second. “She’s not built different just ’cause she’s pretty. Paul’ll be just fine.”
“An even five says they’re not back there for longer than five minutes.”
“Fuck you, and you’re on.”
They looked at the third man, who still maintained the use of a wristwatch, and asked him to note the time. He did, and they all settled in to await Paul’s fate.
Monica allowed the corner of the curtain to drop, pulled away from the window, and said, “That’s it. She got him. If you’re gonna go, you’d better do it now.’
Wang nodded and used the crutches to vault up from the foot of the bed. He’d become so used to them that he had his forearms locked in before he was fully upright and was swinging toward the bedroom door when she halted him with a, “Hey!”
He stopped abruptly by posting his single foot into the floor and glanced back at her unsteadily.
“No kiss?” she demanded.
“Oh, geez,” he grunted and maneuvered his way back to her.
Monica grabbed him by the sides of his head, kissed him hard enough to hurt his lips, and whispered, “Make sure you come back, now.”
“I will.”
She pressed her forehead against his, eyes closed. Refusing to let go. “I love you.”
“I know.”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “Movie quotes? Really, Babe?”
“What the hell?” he laughed in a weak voice. “I’m nervous. Cut me a break.”
“Said ‘I love you,’ damn it. Say it back.”
He kissed her again. “I love you, Mon. I’ll be right back.”
“See that you are.”
She let him go.
He stopped at the front door of their home, pausing long enough for Rose to help him into a jacket. When he had everything situated, she kissed him on the cheek and commanded him to be careful. He kissed her on the forehead and said, “Look out for each other.” Then he looked over his daughter’s head at her mother, who stood in the doorway watching. She obscured her mouth with a hand.
“Get ’em safe, Mon. And you stay safe, too.”
Monica nodded and made to speak but her voice cracked, and she had to spare a moment to clear her throat. “Hurry up,” she said. “Fred’s waiting.”
Wang kissed Rose a final time and exited their home.
She pulled him around the side of the camper, out of sight of the others, and before Paul understood what was happening, his mouth was eclipsed by the sweetness of hers and all other reckoning of time and space left him. Her body pressed against his, jamming him up against the camper’s wall, and he hissed nervously in fear that its occupants might hear and look out the window. He attempted to calm her with his hands, to move them over her slowly and calm the movements of his mouth as well, hoping she would sense the mood and follow suit, but she came after him again, lips pulled tightly back from his in a smile, and there was laughter on her breath. At each puff, he tasted the flavor of spearmint gum in his mouth and wondered if she was still chewing the gum at that moment or if she’d spit it out on the way over. His first and only girlfriend from the old world, Molly Huntington, had been a habitual gum chewer, and they’d never in their relationship been able to get through a kiss without her gum ending in his mouth. It had always disgusted him mildly; that chewed mass suddenly pressed against his tongue like a hard, wet pebble. He’d never told her this; he was afraid she’d stop kissing him if he did.
Whether Rebecca had gum in her mouth or not, he hadn’t the foggiest idea. Her tongue entwined his, writhing like an animal, robbing him of all ability to breathe or think, and when he slowly moved his left hand down to cup the cheek of her ass—mind spiraling toward total panic—she pulled away to trace the ridge of his lips with the sharpened point of her tongue. She pressed her hips against his body—against the most violent erection he’d ever known—and his knees buckled as the blood rushed in his ears.
When he felt something cold pressed against his neck, he mistook it at first for one of her hands, both of which were frigid, and he reached to take it in his to warm it. As he did, he realized she’d pulled back; that the whirlwind of activity in which he’d been caught had abated. He opened his eyes, panting heavily, and saw the darkness of her motionless face now pulled away by several inches. Instead of meeting the softness of her hand at his neck, he found a knife blade.
“Wha…?”
“Shut up,” she whispered. “Don’t say a thing, Paul.”
Something hard pressed into his right temple. He tried to look over and see what it was, but it pressed even harder when he did and pain bloomed along the side of his head in a dull throb.
“That’s a handgun,” he heard a man whisper.
“Oh, Christ, is that Tom?” he moaned.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Oh, shit… Shit, look, man, this wasn’t my idea, okay? She came to get…”
The gun barrel pressed harder, and Tom said, “Shh…”
Paul fell silent and began to pant.
“Jesus, the poor bastard,” Tom whispered. “He thinks—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rebecca hissed. “Paul… out of that jacket.”
“Huh…?” he whimpered.
“Don’t make me ask twice,” she said and pressed the knife harder into his neck. He felt the sensation of a cold bite beneath his jawline and began to pull at the cuffs of his sleeves, tilting his head away from the blade with his eyes jammed shut.
When the garment was pulled from his shoulders he began to shiver immediately; whether it was cold air or fear that caused it, he couldn’t say.
“Take his cap, too,” Rebecca said. Paul felt it pulled from his scalp, and when he cracked his eyes a fraction, he could see Tom’s shadow pulling it on. Paul watched as Tom then stuffed some kind of pistol into the jacket pocket and took up the rifle.
“What’ll we do with him?” Tom asked. “Gag him? I could probably tie him off in the trees…”
“Don’t h-hurt me…” Paul wheezed.
“Don’t hurt…?” Rebecca choked. “Don’t hurt you? Like Lum? Or George? Andrew? Isaiah or Victor? Or Otis…?” she pressed harder on the blade, and Paul stopped breathing.
“Rebecca…” Tom warned.
“How about Otis? Don’t hurt you like Otis, right?”
“P-please…”
“Otis…” Rebecca said again and jerked the knife in a sharp swipe.
Paul felt no pain at first; it was too cold out to feel much of anything. There was a sensation of dropping from the inside out, the application of slow weight within body and mind; a kind of sluggishness. Dizziness. The world tilted and darkened. He heard Tom’s voice one last time, sounding troubled… maybe dismayed… but Paul couldn’t tell what he said. Tom sounded far, far away.
Carlo and the others huddled close to the fire warming their hands over the flames. One of them stamped their feet and cursed; considered walking off for a piss. He didn’t know if the need of his bladder was yet worth braving the cold and decided he could wait a while longer. When Rebecca appeared around the corner of Patty’s trailer, Carlo grunted and said, “Hah! Look at this now!”