She’d used eating utensils after meals to dig deeper, using the tip of the butter knife and the handle of a spoon. More progress was made with the utensils, but she had to clean and return them so no one would suspect what she was doing. They always counted the silverware after they raised the bucket.
The face of the rock was getting bigger all the time. Her fear was that it was massive—too big to remove and too heavy to do her any good. Her hope was that it was medium-sized, maybe the size of a softball, and could be used as a lethal weapon.
Maybe they’d heard her digging and had come to punish her, she thought. But why after midnight?
The hasp snicked and the doors opened quietly. She looked up to see a large square filled with stars, and she felt a breath of cold air from outside.
Bull whispered, “Hey.”
She closed her eyes and felt her heart race.
He said, “I’m puttin’ the ladder down.”
Not now, she thought. It was too soon. Not until she got the rock out of the wall.
She whispered back, “Bull, are you sure about this? What if somebody sees you?”
He snorted and said, “We went out tonight. Cora Lee is passed out on her fat ass and snoring like a hippo.” He chuckled at his comparison.
Moonlight glinted off the rails of the aluminum ladder and she could sense it coming down. She shifted her position so the feet wouldn’t hit her on her legs or pin her blankets to the floor. Then she was up, standing, rubbing her eyes. Her face was gritty with dirt and her mouth tasted like metal.
The ladder groaned as Bull descended rung by rung. If only she could yank that rock out of the wall . . .
“I’ve been . . . stoked . . . ever since you . . . told me you was lonely,” he whispered. The exertion of climbing down made him short of breath. Exertion, plus gallons of alcohol. She could smell it on him as he descended. He was less sure-footed on the ladder than usual.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim starlight and she could see that even though he was “stoked,” he hadn’t forgotten the pistol in his waistband or the hot-shot that hung around his neck on a cord.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to work, she thought. Her hints were supposed to have gnawed at him over several days until he finally gave in. By then she’d be ready with the rock. She’d wait until he turned his back to her to climb up the ladder and she’d bash in his skull. But here he was, the same day she’d set her plan in motion. And the rock was still in the wall and as stuck as when she’d discovered it.
“Bull, are you sure about this?” she said.
His boots were on the floor now and he turned and held out something to her.
“I brung you this,” he said. It was a long-stemmed rose, the kind they sold for a dollar in bars. He’d probably bought it for Cora Lee and took it back while she was passed out.
She reached out for it and their hands brushed together. She guessed he liked that.
“Thank you,” she lied.
He towered over her. Now that he was close, she could smell the stew of alcohol on his breath and cigarette smoke on his clothing. Then he was placing his huge hands on her shoulders, stroking her.
A moment later, he reached down and grasped her wrist.
“Here, look at what you do to me,” he said as he pressed her palm to his groin. He was hard and huge beneath the rough denim fabric.
“What do you think about that?”
She purred. She didn’t know what else to do.
“Want to see it out?”
She thought, I’d like to rip it out by the root. But she purred again instead.
“Now, don’t try nothin’ stupid,” he said, “’cause you’re in for a treat. First time Cora Lee saw it, she said, ‘So that’s why they call you Bull.’”
He chuckled deeply at this.
His other hand left her shoulder and she heard him unzip and start to fumble with his underwear.
“There,” he said. “Where’s your hand?”
She closed her eyes as he guided her hand to him. It was massive and hot.
He said, “I suppose you’re used to this size.”
Before she could reply, Liv was bathed in harsh white light. She flinched and turned away.
Cora Lee screamed, “You fuckin’ no-good cheatin’ son of a bitch! I knew I’d find you down here with that whore!”
“Now, Cora Lee,” Bull said, stepping back and quickly stuffing his penis back in his pants and zipping up. “It ain’t what you think.”
“It sure as hell is!” she howled. “I ought to go get the shotgun and kill you both right now.”
“Cora Lee . . .”
“I’ll shoot you so many times, you’ll be nothin’ but a grease spot, you cheatin’ bastard.”
“Cora Lee, she lured me down here,” Bull said, squinting his eyes against the beam of her flashlight. His voice was whiny.
“Right, and she held a gun to your head and made you show her your dick, you no-good cheatin’ scumbag. I’m comin’ back with that shotgun.”
She started to yank the ladder out, but Bull realized what was happening and reached out and grabbed a rung. Bull and Cora Lee tugged drunkenly back and forth on the ladder for a half minute, Cora Lee screaming more obscenities at him the whole time.
Finally, Bull’s strength won out and the feet of the ladder crashed to the floor of the cellar. Before he climbed up the ladder, he shot his arm toward Liv, threatening her with the hot-shot not to try and follow him. But he mistimed the threat and the hot-shot crackled when it touched her neck and the jolt threw her on her back.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. Then he went up much faster than he’d come down.
“I’m gonna kill you, you cheatin’ douche bag!” Cora Lee yelled.
When Bull got to the top, he pulled the ladder up so hard it went airborne and clanged on the ground as it landed. Liv trembled and hugged herself.
He leaned down over the opening and said, “Now see what you’ve done,” and closed both doors so hard they sounded like gunshots.
With her eyes clamped shut, Liv heard Cora Lee and Bull go at each other over a mild buzzing in her ears. Cora Lee called him names Liv had never heard strung together before, and Bull kept shouting that he’d been tricked, that he only loved one woman, that he must have drunk too much and let the wrong head do all the “thinkin’.”
After five minutes of shouting, an actual gunshot rang out.
Then silence.
Brenda’s voice: “Shut up, the two of you, and go to bed. We’ll sort this all out in the morning.” She spoke calmly but with authority.
Cora Lee said, “I found him down there with his dick in her hand. The ladder was down and they was writhing around—”
“I said, shut up,” Brenda said, barely raising her voice. “Or the next shot won’t be in the air.”
“Okay, Ma,” Bull said. Liv thought he sounded like he was ten years old and had been caught stealing from her purse.
“I ain’t sleepin’ with him in the trailer,” Cora Lee spat.
“You can sleep on our couch.”
“C’mon, Cora Lee,” Bull whined.
Cora Lee said, “It’s over, you cheater. Over!”
“I bet the two of you woke up Dallas,” Brenda said, sounding sad.
—
LIV WAITED. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the cellar doors opened and Brenda, or Cora Lee, or Bull appeared holding the shotgun. There was no place to hide.
But they never came. There was nothing but silence until the coyote came back and sniffed around the opening.
—
FEELING SLOWLY RETURNED to Liv’s body, but there was still a buzz in her ears. Two wounds, like a vampire bite, stung on her neck above her collarbone.
As her heartbeat returned to normal, she realized her hand hurt. She opened it to see that she had gripped the stem of the rose so hard the thorns had pierced her flesh. Her palm was sticky with coagulating blood.