“And would ya looky there!” Duke exclaimed.
Just ahead the sign loomed: Qwik Stop.
Erik pulled the pickup around back by the dumpster where it couldn’t be seen from the main road. Two cars had been parked out front, a muddy Dodge Colt and an old beige Plymouth station wagon.
“Two cars out front,” Erik observed. “That means one customer in the store. The second car belongs to whoever’s working the register. Here’s what we do. We walk in like we’re looking for something, wait for the customer to leave. Then you take out the person working the register. We’ll get his keys, take him with us, and take off.”
“Sure,” Duke said. He put the knife under his shirt.
A cowbell clanged when they entered. An old bald man behind the counter looked up. Erik had been correct in his prediction: there was only one customer, a ruddy looking blonde in cutoffs and an orange halter. She stood on skinny, knobbykneed legs before the rear reach in, furiously tapping a sandaled foot. “Jaysus Chrast, pops,” she complained in a bent twang. “Dollah ninty a half gallon? Whut kand of prass is that?”
“I don’t make the prices,” replied the old man, scowling.
Erik and Duke perused the magazine rack up front. “Baby Born with Elvis Tattoo,” boasted the Enquirer. “Careful of guns,” Erik whispered. “Lots of shopkeepers around here keep guns under the counter.”
“Ain’t afraid of no guns.” Duke was leering at the blonde.
Oh, no, Erik suddenly thought.
“Ah ain’t payin’ no dallah ninety fer a dag half gallon of milk.”
“Fine. Buy milk somewhere else.” The old man shrugged.
“Shee it!” The blonde opened the reach in and bent over.
“When the girl leaves,” Erik whispered, “we take down the old guy.”
But Duke was eyeing the blonde as she bent over. “Change of plans, partner,” he whispered back. “We’re taking the girl.”
Erik should’ve known something like this might happen. “Damn it, Duke,” he whispered more fiercely. “If we do that, the old guy’ll see! He’ll tell the cops what kind of car we took!”
“Shadap,” Duke replied. “We’re taking the girl.”
“No way, Duke! We agreed to do this my—”
“Shadap, I said.”
“This ain’t no library, fellas,” said the old man. “You all can buy one of those magazines or you can leave.”
Erik felt sick. The blonde was sputtering. “Dollah goddamn ninety, I say I cain’t bull leave it!”
“We don’t want no magazine, pops.” Duke lumbered up to the counter.
“Whatcha want, then?”
The blonde was coming down the aisle.
Aw, no no no no, was all Erik could think.
“Could use a pack of Kools, though,” Duke said, showing his grin.
No no no no no…
When the old man turned to get the cigarettes, Duke sank the knife into his lower back.
The old man screamed.
The blonde dropped her milk and screamed.
Erik shouted, “Goddamn it, Duke!”
“There, pops.” Duke chuckled. “How’s that?”
The blonde, still screaming, made for the back. Erik tackled her, but it was like wrestling with a greased snake.
Duke continued to chuckle, emptying the register. The old guy was flip flopping facedown on the floor. Dark blood pumped out of the hole just above his right kidney.
The blonde slapped, punched, and clawed for all she was worth. For a moment, she was on top of Erik, fury in her eyes, teeth snapping. Erik had to hold her back to keep her from biting his face.
“Damn if you weren’t right, fairy”’ Duke celebrated. “Looky!” Under the counter he found a big old Webley revolver. He held it up like a prize.
When Erik finally got the blonde up, she screamed and kicked him squarely between the legs. “Feisty little cooze, ain’t she?” Duke guffawed.
Erik went down.
Duke gestured. “Hey, darlin’. It ain’t polite to like leave without even sayin’ hello, now, is it?” The blonde was running for the door. Duke grinned behind the Webley’s sights and fired. The giant bullet struck the blonde in the left buttock, shattering her hip, and knocked her to the floor.
“Fuckin’ fairy.” Duke chuckled. “Ya let a woman kick your ass.”
The old guy was still churning in his own blood. “Looky there,” Duke observed. “Old fucker shat himself… Lights out, pops.” He fired a second shot into the old man’s head, which promptly exploded like a melon dropped from a great height. “I don’t think we have to worry about him tellin’ the cops nothin’ now, huh? You think so?”
Erik dragged himself up. “Fucking crazy psychopath!” he yelled, rasping. “We haven’t even been off the ward fifteen minutes and you’ve already killed three people!”
“It’s a kick, ain’t it?” Duke laughed back.
The blonde’s face ballooned red from pain and screaming. Her leg stuck out funny from her hip as she tried to drag herself out before a smear of blood.
Duke stuffed the money along with a box of shells into a plastic bag which read “Qwik Stop, the Happy Place to Shop.”
“Come on, fairy. Help me with the bimbo.”
The blonde blubbered, shivering, as they carried her out. The station wagon had keys in the ignition. Erik started it up while Duke pulled the blonde in the back.
“Glad this ain’t my car.” Duke chuckled. “This bimbo’s bleedin’ all over the place. Looks like she’s got some nice little titties, though.”
Erik spun wheels out of the lot. The girl shrieked steadily. “We can’t just let her die,” Erik yelled. “We’re gonna have to drop her off at a hospital or something.”
Duke’s grin flared in the rearview. “Oh, we’ll drop her off, all right. But not at no hospital. And not till I’m done.”
What have I let loose? Erik thought.
The girl screamed and screamed as Duke hauled off her shorts. He gave her leg a twist, snorting laughter, and she passed out. “Ain’t heard a woman scream like that in years. Makes my dog haaaaaaaaaard.” Erik could hear the shattered hip bones grinding. “Yes, sir, there’s some nice little titties,” Duke approved, and pulled the orange halter over her head. “Big cooze on her, though. Like you could drive a truck through it.”
Erik felt numb as he drove. This is all my fault, he thought. He should never have brought Duke with him. He should’ve found a way to get out himself.
“Hey, fairy, take a look. Show ya how a real man treats a woman.”
Duke’s mad, pumpkin grinning face descended. He gnawed, grunting, bit off a nipple, and spat it out the window.
Erik kept his eyes on the road. His heart was still racing. Duke had the knife and gun—Erik was helpless. All my fault, he thought over and over. He shivered when he heard Duke unbuckling his pants.
All my fault…
Duke raped the girl twice; after the second climax, she appeared dead. “You die on me already?” he asked, and stuck his knife right into her anus. She bucked and wailed. “Guess not!” Then he worked on her some more with the knife, for good measure, until she was dead.
“Later, baby,” Duke said when he was done. He popped open the back door. “Happy landings. And give Saint Pete a great big kiss from Duke.”
He shoved her out the door. The wind rushed. The naked body tumbled off the road into high grass.
Duke leaned forward, grinning. He put his arm around Erik. “You know somethin’, I ain’t had me this much fun since high school.”
Erik just drove.
Up ahead, the green road sign read “Lockwood 15 miles.”