Hmm, prison…
The girl with the gun indicated the bound man with a jerk of her head. “You worried about him?”
Julie frowned. “Um…I…guess?”
The girl approached the bound man and pressed the barrel of the revolver against his forehead. She squeezed the trigger and a spray of blood and brain matter splashed the window blind behind him.
“Holy shit.”
Okay. Re-reappraisal time.
Not cops. Definitely not cops.
“Who are you guys?”
The woman shook her head. “No time for that. Cops will be here soon. Grab that knife if you want it and come with us.”
Julie didn’t have to be told twice.
She scooped up the knife and followed the woman and her man-who looked sort of shell-shocked-out of the room.
They were gone by the time Zeb was able to push himself up on all fours and crawl over to the bed. He sat down, put his back against the side of the bed, and looked down at his chest.
“Fuck.”
He heard a clucking sound. “You’re a goner.”
He looked up and saw Lulu standing over him. She was still the spitting image of Adrienne Barbeau, but she’d exchanged the bikini for a little black dress. Black for mourning, he supposed. Though it was far more revealing than any funeral dress he’d ever seen.
He coughed up blood. “Hurts. Hurts bad.”
“I imagine.”
“Can you help me?”
“Afraid not, Zeb. This is the end for you.”
The tears that spilled down his cheeks surprised Zeb. He couldn’t recall ever having cried as an adult. “Sucks. I don’t want to die.”
Lulu smiled. “Who does, Zeb?”
“Are you real?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Does it matter?”
Zeb’s eyes fluttered and the world turned white for a second before snapping back into focus. More blood trickled out of his mouth. “I think you’re real.”
Lulu just smiled.
“You’re real. I thought I was special and that was the reason I could hear you when nobody else could. But…I was wrong…”
Lulu shook her head. “It was always about the girl, Zeb. It was your job to get her here. To meet those people. That’s done now. And now it’s time for you to meet God.” She laughed. “You ready to talk to God, Zeb?”
Zeb felt a sudden chill.
He thought of all the people he’d killed and their desperate pleas for mercy. He wasn’t ready, not even close, but he had no say in the matter now. His breath hitched and he convulsed a little. When the convulsion passed, he heard the whine of approaching sirens.
Lulu lowered herself to the floor and straddled him. “Don’t worry about them. You’ll be gone before they get here. You’ve only got a few seconds, baby. Think about what you want to say to God. Be quick about it.”
Zeb tried to think of something. Anything.
But all he could hear now was the echoes of his victims’ screams.
Then he was gone.
Lulu watched him go.
She kissed him once on the mouth.
And then she was gone, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Diary of a Mixed-up Girl blog entry, dated March 25
Feels like I haven’t updated in eons. But I guess it’s only been about a week or whatever. I’m sure most of you will be surprised as shit to even see this. Thought I was a goner, right? Well, guess again. I am alive and well and having a great fucking time. Hardly really have time for this, but I wanted you bitches to know I’m all right. Not sure why. I don’t give a shit about any of you. LOL. Btw, I’m writing this on a new laptop that belonged to this guy who really won’t be needing it anymore. It’s nice. Bells and whistles out the fucking ass.
So I’ve made some new friends. This really hot chick and her boyfriend. Think I’m gonna be hanging with them for a while. The chick is fun. I’ve totally bonded with her. The boyfriend is okay. It’s fun to mess with him. The chick’s got this big thing planned and it is going to be a fucking BLAST. I can’t wait.
Oh, I wanted to address some shit I’ve been reading online today. First off, what happened to the Lees was really sad. But seriously, me taking off is totally unrelated. Whatever psycho did that didn’t abduct me. Yeah, I went to their house to collect my babysitting money, but nobody answered. End of story. Kind of creepy to think there were a bunch of dead people on the other side of that door, though. Anyway. So what DID happen to me? Simple. I hooked up with a guy passing through town and decided to take off with him. Total coincidence it happened the same day.
Bottom line, I’m fine. Better than fine, really. I’m finally free. I felt like a prisoner living with my parents and I’m never going back, so tell them to knock off this searching bullshit, okay?
So that’s about it, I guess. I’ve wasted enough time talking to you losers.
OH! I got a tattoo yesterday. My first. Hurt a little, but totally worth it.
Laterz.
Note: Of the more than one hundred comments posted in response to the above entry, only the following received a reply from Julie Cosgrove.
lord_ruthven: I’m not sure what to believe, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m glad you seem to be okay.
Mixedupgirclass="underline" You know what? You’re the only person back home I don’t want to drop down a black fucking hole. No bullshit. Still not gonna fuck you, though.
lord_ruthven: Thanks…I guess. What about Alicia?
Mixedupgirclass="underline" Fuck her. Seems she told the cops about my bullshit “crush” on John. Next time I see her I’m gonna chop her fucking head off.
lord_ruthven: Hah. Now I really know you’re okay.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
March 25
Three hours of lazing about on the beach and splashing in the ocean was more than enough for Chuck. He needed a break from the sun. He gathered up his towel and empty Corona bottles and told Zoe he was going back to the house to take a shower. Zoe smiled and told him she’d be up in a little bit. He leaned down for a kiss, felt her tongue slip into his mouth, and grinned.
“Sure you don’t want to take that shower with me?”
She smiled. “Maybe later?”
He chuckled. “Sure. A guy can never get too clean.”
He went up the beach toward the house, climbing first over a grassy dune and then traversing a short bridge to the fence that surrounded the swimming pool out back. He opened the gate and stepped inside, pausing long enough to blast sand from his feet with a hose. He entered the house through the bottom floor, padded on wet feet to the staircase, and began to climb toward the third floor. He stopped on the second-floor landing when he heard a feminine moan, very faint, emanating from one of the rooms down the short hallway. He turned and stared down the hallway. There were two rooms. Two doors. The one on the right was shut, the one on the left partly cracked. The sound came again. Definitely feminine. Chuck’s penis twitched in his swim trunks.
God, I’m horny.
All that time spent baking in the sun and staring at the wide array of bare female flesh in the vicinity had him worked up. He suddenly wished he’d tried harder to lure Zoe back to the house. He wanted to have some of the same kind of fun someone in one of these rooms was having. He was pretty sure the sound was coming from the partially cracked door. A need to know who it was seized him. He was surprised. He wasn’t normally given to voyeurism, but there was no denying the intensity of the desire. He glanced up the next set of stairs leading to the third floor. Empty. He then checked the stairs leading back to the first floor. Also clear. He took a deep breath and began to move as quietly as possible down the hallway.
This is crazy. What if somebody catches me peeking?
It was a good question. He had no business doing this. It was risky as hell. Yet the impulse was just too powerful to resist. He reached the partly open door and peered through the crack.