The talk with Lulu got even stranger after a few minutes. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on in there, but she got the sense Lulu was administering some kind of physical punishment. Zeb made gurgling sounds and uttered a few strangled words, then spoke clearly as Lulu in that ridiculous faux-female voice. The latter sounded sort of like Mickey Mouse.
Julie couldn’t help it-that impression did make her giggle.
The bathroom door banged open and Zeb staggered out into the room. He came over to the side of the bed and stared down at her. He braced a knee on the edge of the bed and leaned over her to undo her bonds. He licked his lips and stared at her breasts. “Can’t decide whether I’d rather eat those or suckle on ’em.”
Julie made herself stay very still. The physical proximity repulsed her, but she was afraid flinching away would agitate him. “Lulu says you can’t do either.”
He scowled and finished untying her. “It ain’t nice to eavesdrop, bitch.”
Julie scooped her clothes-denim shorts and a halter-up from the floor and began to get dressed. “Yeah. Real sorry about that, Zeb. But, you know, the fucking bathroom’s only ten feet away. Don’t want me to hear your talks with Lulu? Take it outside.”
She finished dressing and grabbed the television remote from the nightstand. The remote was on a cord, which was anchored to the nightstand. Which she thought was pretty fucking funny. Who the hell steals a remote?
Zeb frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Gossip Girl is on tonight. Let’s see if this dump gets the CW.” She thumbed the power button, the TV blinked on, and she began to scan through the limited array of channels. She squealed. “Yay! There it is. Wanna watch?”
Zeb turned and stared blankly at the TV for several moments. Then he looked over his shoulder at her. “You like this shit?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “I guess I’m too old for it. I don’t under-”
Julie put a finger to her lips and shushed him. “Shut up! I’m trying to listen. Save it for the commercials.”
She flopped onto her stomach, kicked her legs up, and propped her chin in her hands. Zeb sat on the floor. They watched the entire show. Zeb surprised her by keeping his comments and complaints to a minimum. She even had a bit of fun fielding his intermittent questions about the show and its characters. He really didn’t get it at all, but he was struggling to grasp her interest. It was sort of what watching the show with her dad might have been like. That thought took her to a dark place briefly during one commercial break, but she shoved the bad thoughts away and lost herself in the show again when the break ended.
A touch of melancholy crept in with the end of the show. For that one hour things had seemed almost normal. But now it was over and she was again forced to deal with her new reality, which remained pretty fucking grim. She was being kept prisoner by a man who might snap and kill her at any moment. She couldn’t stop thinking of what might happen. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him on top of her nude and very still body, face contorting in twisted agony as he penetrated her dead pussy. She was thinking of it again and this time it was worse, her morbid mind taking her down paths that repulsed her even as they stirred her curiosity. There was the question of lubrication, just for instance. Dead girls don’t get wet for their postlife partners. Obviously. And the term partner was grossly inappropriate in this context, as it was another word implying consent, and dead people, duh, weren’t capable of giving that. So…what did he use? His own spit? Some kind of lotion? Or…ugh…the victim’s fresh blood?
Might as well come out and ask him. She doubted she could offend the kind of guy who did that sort of thing, so fuck it. “What do you use for lube when you bang a dead body?”
Zeb was still sitting on the floor. He turned toward her and propped a forearm on a corner of the bed. “Why you want to know?”
“Just curious.”
He grunted. “Whatever’s handy.”
“Like?”
He told her. In detail. He used a variety of methods. Some obvious. Some…not.
“You are a sick piece of work, Zeb.”
“Yeah. I suppose so.”
“You fucking suppose?” She laughed. “Like maybe there’s a little part of you that thinks you’re normal or, I don’t know, just misunderstood?“
He smiled. “I reckon.”
The smile was a strange thing to see. It rendered the next string of sarcastic remarks she would’ve made DOA. It was genuine. Not his usual leer at all, but rather a reflection of simple amusement. It humanized the monster for a fleeting moment. But then she thought of the murder she’d witnessed in the woods. That terrified woman tied to that tree, strung up like some piece of wild game he’d captured. She had to keep reminding herself of things like that. His cruelty. His perversions. His willingness to kill and inflict extreme pain. It was strangely easy to lose sight of that in a moment like this. She had to keep her guard up, both physically and emotionally.
Zeb was still staring at her, a quizzical expression in place of the now-vanished smile. “What makes you special? What does Lulu see in you?”
“I don’t know.”
Julie sat up and scooted away from him. She picked up the remote and started clicking through the channels again. “There’s got to be something else decent on. I wonder if these scrambled channels are porn. You know what I like? All girl. I’m not a lez or anything, but the guys in pornos are always so gross. The girls always have those fake tans and tits and tattoos, but they look hot anyway. I went through a phase for, like, a week of wanting to be a porn star. That would have killed my parents, which would be the main reason to do it, you know?”
Zeb smacked the remote out of her hand. “Enough of this shit.”
Julie cringed away from him, whole body tensing as she awaited the long-delayed assault she was sure was imminent. “What the fuck, Zeb?”
He smiled again, but this time there was a definite leer in it. “It’s high time you proved yourself, bitch. No more fucking around. You’re gonna kill a man before the night’s done. And if you don’t do it, that’s it for your ass, girl. Not even Lulu will-”
“Okay, I get it. Jesus.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to go on and on. I have to kill a dude. Fine. Let’s do it.”
The conviction in her voice surprised Zeb. His brow creased as he squinted at her. The overall impression was of a man bearing witness to something utterly inexplicable. A Bigfoot or flying-saucer sighting, maybe. He scratched the back of his head, his fingers sliding smoothly through the now much shorter locks. “I…really?”
She gave a single terse but emphatic nod. “Yes.”
And she meant it. She didn’t really want to kill anybody. But she didn’t want to die, either. And there was just no other way around this. She couldn’t manufacture any more delays or lame excuses.
The time to kill was at hand.
So let’s get it the fuck over with.
“So how do we do this, Zeb?”
He grunted. “What do you mean? You stick a knife in the cocksucker. Or hit him over the head with something heavy.” He shrugged expansively, making the muscles in his broad shoulders and neck ripple. “Don’t really matter, so long as your victim gets dead.”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean…” She swept a hand around her. “Do we do it here? Or-”
“Not here.”
“Okay. Where?”
“Someplace nice and private. Out in the woods is best.”
“I want to use your knife. That big one.”
A corner of his mouth curled up. “I like that knife.” His nostrils flared and he did that weird chest-rubbing thing of his. “Wanna see you stick it in somebody.”
Oh fuck, he’s getting turned on by the idea. Fucking gross.
Julie covered a shiver by rolling off the bed and springing to her feet. “So let’s make this happen. Fucking tired of hanging out here anyway.”