Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

“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.”

Zeb opened his duffel bag and removed one of the several shirts he’d pinched from John’s wardrobe. He pulled it on and grabbed the keys from the table. He was grinning as he took Julie by the arm and steered her out of the room.

Julie was somewhat less thrilled than Zeb.

But she was committed.

Tonight everything would change forever. No matter what happened after tonight, she would never be the same. And it wouldn’t matter if she eventually escaped from Zeb. Tonight, she thought, I become a cold-blooded murderer.

A chill evening’s wind touched her face.

It felt like the loving caress of Satan himself, welcoming a new acolyte to the fold.

March 23

After rounding everyone up, they hit the road again shortly after nine a.m., which was remarkable, given how little sleep most of them had managed during the night. Most of the credit for the amazing feat went to Chuck. He had gone into taskmaster mode after explaining his reasons for not calling the cops. Zoe retained some skepticism about that, but Chuck had been so adamant, and so earnest, that there had never been any real question of defying his wishes.

Besides…

I want to get to the fucking beach.

Okay, being honest, there had been an element of selfishness to her quick surrender. She hated knowing that the people who’d jumped Chuck were going to get away with it, but it was a price worth paying in order to be on their way free of any big hassle. Maybe she’d have felt different had Chuck suffered any kind of permanent damage, but he was alive and physically intact. The bruises and scratches would heal. Besides, she’d heard or read somewhere that most random robberies like that were never solved. Probably no one would ever be apprehended after the whole big ordeal with the cops, which would make the whole thing even more of a waste. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was as good a rationale for not doing it as any.

So here they were…

Chuck was at the wheel again, but Joe wasn’t riding shotgun this time. Zoe occupied that position now, and Joe was slumped next to Emily in the middle seat. His head was on her shoulder and he was snoring lightly. Zoe glanced at the rearview mirror and quickly directed her gaze back out the window on her side. Emily was still glaring at her. She was pissed at the way Zoe had snubbed her this morning. Zoe had stayed away from her when possible and ignored her repeated attempts at initiating conversation.

Surely on some level Emily must have expected this. The things they’d done together during the night had been fun at the time, but in the light of day the memories were embarrassing. Zoe was no prude. She enjoyed a bit of kink in the bedroom. But what she had done with Emily and Joe was more than that. It hadn’t been any garden-variety threesome. She felt like a slut and a pervert, and she just couldn’t deal with it right now, especially now that her dormant feelings for Chuck seemed to be stirring back to life. Which was confusing as all hell. It was tempting to write it off as a product of the guilt. But there was more to it than that. Maybe something potentially lasting, and maybe not. Either way, for now at least, she and Chuck were back on.

She saw the faint reflection of herself in the window. A small, private smile curved the corners of her mouth. She was thinking of those moments in the bathroom after Annalisa departed, of how that concerned hug had shifted into something more passionate. She tugged at her shirt collar, feeling a little hot at the memory of Chuck penetrating her from behind as she braced her hands on the edge of the sink and watched him do her in the mirror.

She glanced at him and smiled.