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"I can't see anything," I said.

"Not that you aren't trying."

I faced front -- to be on the lookout in case Connie chose to throw her spear at me. "I'm not into watching ladies take a leak," I explained. "Maybe you are, but . . ."

"Fuck you."

"Give it a rest, okay? Why don't you just sit quietly and try to work on your vocabulary?"

"What a wit."

I looked back over my shoulder, but couldn't spot Billie or Kimberly.

"This is such a treat for you," Connie said.

"Really."

"A dream come true."

"Right."

"Trapped on an island with a band of women."

"And a maniac who wants to kill me. It's a blast. Why don't we save all this for our big fight scene, okay?"

She didn't come back with a crack, so maybe she liked the idea.

After a while, Billie and Kimberly reappeared. They climbed down from the rocks and came across the beach. After crossing the stream, Billie waved and said to us, "Night, now."

"See you in the morning, people," Kimberly said.

They split up and went to their own sleeping nests -- beds, as Billie calls them. Billie lay down alone. Kimberly, a few yards away, eased down into her place beside Thelma.

From where I sat, not much could be seen of them. They weren't completely beyond the glow from the fire, but the light that reached them was pretty dim and murky. Just the way we wanted things.

"Let's wait a little while," I said to Connie.

"Your wish is my command."

I sighed.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay. First off, we're in a real mess. You know? People have died . . ."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

"I just think that, under the circumstances, it'd be nice if we didn't have to fight among ourselves. I mean, my God, it's pretty weird to be bickering with each other about a load of insignificant crap when there's a guy out there killing us off. I know you're upset and scared, but that doesn't give you any excuse to go around making everyone miserable."

She showed me her teeth. "Do I make you miserable?"

"You make me want to smack you silly."

"Well, two can play that game."

"Why the hell did you even ask me to come on this damn trip? All you've done the whole time is dump on me."

"Maybe I like to dump on you," she said.

"Sure."

"You're such a fucking loser."

"Why did you ask me to come? I don't get it. Did you just want to show your family what a loser you've got for a boyfriend? That doesn't exactly make sense. Not that I ever exactly expect you to make a whole lot of sense, but . . ."

"Up yours."

"Why am I here? Why did you invite me? You needed someone your own age to pick on?"

She sneered at me. "What was I supposed to do, come by myself? I figured, better you than no one."

"Oh, thanks a heap."

"Well, you asked. Besides, I used to think I liked you."

That one actually sort of hurt.

"I thought I loved you," she said.

That one stunned me so much I wondered if it was a lie.

"If you loved me," I said, "you had a funny way of showing it."

"What, because I wouldn't jump into bed with you?"

"No!"

"I happen to be very particular about who I jump into bed with, buddy. It's a very select few, as a matter of fact. I have to be one hundred per cent sure of a guy . . . and I had my doubts about you from the start. Thank God I didn't give in. But maybe you'll have more luck with my mom . . . or Kimberly. It's so disgustingly obvious that you'd rather fuck one of them . . ."

"Knock it off," I said. "Man! Your father got his head chopped in half this morning; how in hell can you be talking like this?"

"Maybe it's time for a little honesty, that's how. Why go around lying and being a phoney about everything if we're all gonna get killed anyway? You know? Screw it. From now on, I say what I think."

"You mean, you haven't been? Could've fooled me. But you know what? I don't see more honesty here; all I see is that you're getting more energetic in your nastiness."

"Fuck you."

"That's original."

That was apparently the final straw.

Or she just figured it was time to start the show.

She started it by twisting her face so she looked like a maniac. Then she hissed through her teeth and she leaped at me. Didn't bother to go around the fire -- sprang over it, instead. I didn't even have time to stand up before she crashed down on top of me and slammed me backward into the sand.

She seemed to be all knees and elbows and fists.

Next thing I knew, she was sitting on my stomach. The knees and elbows no longer jabbed into me, but her fists kept smacking me in the face.

I put up my arms to block them.

And gasped things like, "Stop it! Shit! That hurts! Hey!"

I knew better than to think she was simply trying to make our fight look good for Wesley; she was trying to inflict damage on me.

And succeeding.

I've got a thing about hitting girls.

The thing is, I don't do it.

If you aren't some kind of a pervert or shit, you've got a deep-down revulsion when it comes to hurting a female.

So even though Connie was pounding me pretty well, I couldn't bring myself to slug her. I tried to defend myself by blocking her blows. Then I managed to catch hold of her arms. She lurched and twisted.

"Stop it!" I gasped.

She kept trying to jerk her arms free, so I bucked and threw her off me. We rolled, and I got on top of her. I sat across her hips and leaned forward and pinned her arms down. She wouldn't stop squirming, though. Afraid she might throw me off, I stretched her arms up past her head and put as much weight on her as I could. We were belly to belly, chest to chest, face to face.

Pretty soon, she quit struggling. She lay under me, gasping for air.

We were so tight together that I could feel the pounding of her heart. I also felt the push of her breasts against my chest. And her breath on my lips.

"Get off," she said.

I stayed.

She was between my legs, and our groins were pressed together. She had sort of a mound down there that pushed against me.

"Get off, damn it!"

I'd never been this close to her before, never had so much actual contact. It started having an effect on me.

"Oh, terrific," she muttered.

She'd noticed.

"Get off me, for Godsake. We're supposed to be fighting. Leave it to you . . ."

"Sorry." I let go of her wrists and shoved against the sand and started to push myself up.

"Get it over with," she said.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Slug me, knock me out."

"Shouldn't we get on our feet first?"

"What, so I get a chance to fall down? I'm already down. Go ahead and do it."

"This isn't the right way. It won't look right."

"Okay," she said. And her right arm shot up. She punched the side of my face so hard that I toppled over sideways. I flopped onto my back. She stood up.

"This how you want it?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

She wasn't playing the game I expected, but at least she was on her feet, up where Wesley could get a good view of her. When I tried to stand, she rushed in and kicked me over. On my second try, I blocked her kick and staggered up.

More like it.

We started circling each other, hunched over, hands out like a couple of disarmed knife-fighters. She made a lunge as if to grab me. I leaped out of reach.

Suddenly, she pulled her T-shirt off. She tossed it to the sand. "This better?" she asked.

I couldn't believe she'd done it. Miss Prude. Up till then, she hadn't even taken off the shirt to go swimming. She had a tan, though. She must've gone without it sometime, just not in front of me.

She didn't look bad.

"Think I've got his attention now?" she asked.

"Probably."

"Yeah? Just probably?"

Her right hand darted out.

Slapped my face.

Not a hard slap. It didn't hurt as much as her punches, but it stung my ego. It was a humiliating taunt, just as she'd meant it to be.