Грэм Мастертон - Famine

‘Call him,’ he said. ‘Call your sister’s husband. Go ahead. And tell him that if he jumps, or rushes, or does anything sudden at all, then it’s going to be cortex omelette all round. You got me?’

Season stared at him, feeling as chilled as an ice queen. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked him. ‘You’re educated, aren’t you? Why?’

Oxnard grinned, ‘Education, as they always used to tell me, is nothing more than a tool for getting what you need out of life.’

He paused, and then he said, ‘ And what you want.’ Season asked him, in a quivering voice: ‘You want me to do something for you? Would you let her go if I did that?’

‘Oho,’ laughed Oxnard. ‘Now we’re getting into it. Can I hear you actually offering ?’

‘If it means you’ll let my daughter go, yes,’ said Season, simply. ‘Let her go, and make sure she doesn’t see what happens, and then you can do whatever you want.’

Oxnard looked down at the small girl he was pressing against his chest. ‘I need the food as well,’ he said, carefully. ‘Why don’t you call your sister’s husband first, and your sister, too.’

Season was silent for almost half a minute. Then she said, ‘That’s a deal, though, is it? Can I trust you that much?’ The Angels giggled, and Oxnard slowly shook his head. ‘You can’t trust me at all, honey buns. I’ve never made a commitment yet and I’m not about to make one now. But, sure, if that’s what you want to believe, then go right ahead and believe it. Now, call your sister’s festering husband, before I start to lose my patience. You don’t want to see this kitchen redecorated with the inside of your pretty little daughter’s head, do you?’

Season backed slowly across to the kitchen door. She didn’t take her eyes of Oxnard for one moment. She turned her head slightly, without turning her eyes, and called, ‘Carl! Carl! ’

Carl and Vee came together. They could hear something was wrong but they didn’t know what, and by the time they walked into the kitchen it was too late to do anything about it. Carl looked around at the Angels lounging against his pine table, and his Neff oven, and his red custom-enamel sink unit, and said, ‘What the hell do you animals think you’re doing?’

Oxnard carefully and deliberately cocked his revolver. ‘You just watch who you’re calling an animal, you half-assed canyon dweller. I’ve already explained to Mommy here what it is we need, and what it is we want, and I think we’re pretty close to a deal.’

Season said, ‘Carl – they need food – they want cans and frozen stuff I guess – I had to tell them that you had the key to the freezer.’

Carl nodded. He went to the kitchen cupboard, hesitated and raised his hands so that Oxnard could see that he wasn’t playing games, and then opened the cupboard up. He took out a keyring with two small chrome keys on it, and tossed it over. The Angel with the boxer’s face caught it, and winked in appreciation. ‘Thanks, mister.’

‘That’s it, then,’ said Carl. ‘Take the food and let the girl go. Just take whatever you need.’

‘Well, that isn’t everything,’ said Oxnard, slowly. ‘The deal was that we take the food because we’re hungry. But we let the girl go because we’re going to have some fun with Mommy here. Not to mention Mommy’s sister.’

Carl lunged forward, red-faced. ‘You lay one filthy finger on—’ he started, but Oxnard thrust his revolver right up against Sally’s head and shrieked, ‘ You want me to kill her? Right in front of you? Is that what you want? Jesus Christ! ’

There was one split second when they were all mad with the fear and tension of what was happening – when Season could see nothing in front of her eyes but boiling scarlet and feel nothing in her nerves but total fright. Then, with a slow breath, Carl backed off, one step at a time, until he was standing beside Vee and Season, and breathing like a man who’s run a mile in five minutes.

‘What do you want to do?’ he asked, in an ashy voice. ‘Season? Vee? Can you live with any of this?’

Season said, ‘Carl, I’m going to have to. If I don’t live with it, then Sally’s going to die with it. And that’s all.’

She hesitated, and then she said, ‘Vee wasn’t any part of the deal, though. You hear me, Oxnard? My sister wasn’t any part of the deal. You can’t ask anything of her.’ Oxnard frowned. ‘I don’t understand you,’ he said. ‘It seems to me that as long as I’m holding a loaded Magnum up against your sweet little daughter’s head, I can ask anything of anybody who cares about her.’

Another cold pause. And then Vee turned pale-faced to Season, and said, ‘Season – we can’t let them kill her. For God’s sake.’

Carl growled, ‘You morons will die for this. I mean it. Every last one of you will die.’

‘He’s very dramatic, don’t you think so, Oxnard?’ one of the Angels asked, and Oxnard grinned and nodded.

‘He’s a thespian,’ said Oxnard.

‘A thespian ?’ asked the Angel with wild hair and zits. “That’s right. That’s intellectual talk for over-aggressive, over-acting, worn-out, used-up, suburban asshole.’

‘Your gun makes you strong, that’s all,’ quivered Carl.

‘That’s right,’ agreed Oxnard. ‘It’s a good thing I’ve got it, don’t you agree? Now why don’t you go sit on that breakfast stool over there, and keep quiet, and why don’t you two ladies start stripping off ready? Huh?’

Season said, ‘Not in front of the child. You promised. I’m not doing anything in front of the child.’

Oxnard snapped, ‘Lady – unless you perform in front of this child – then this child is going to perform in front of you. And let me tell you one thing from personal experience – only one personal experience, mind you, but one is quite enough – dying is a very much less pleasing performance than fucking.’

‘You’ve killed someone before?’ asked Season, coldly.

Oxnard nodded. ‘That’s right. Now, strip off.’

Carl said, ‘Listen, you, whatever your name is. There’s no way. You hear me? There’s absolutely no way.’

Oxnard said, ‘They call me Oxnard, if you must know, on account of the fact that I come from Oxnard. My real name is Charles.’

‘Isn’t he too much?’ giggled one of the Angels. ‘ Charles , for Chrissake.’

There was a fraught silence. Then Season, with complete dignity, unbuttoned her white broderie anglaise sundress and shrugged it off her shoulders. Underneath, she was naked, her skin still that bright bronze colour of a fresh suntan. Oxnard smiled, and the rest of the Angels whistled and laughed.

‘You can do what you want,’ said Season, tightly. ‘But you’ll have to take my daughter out of here.’

Oxnard thought about it for a while, and then said, ‘Okay. It’s a reasonable, clean, one hundred per cent American request. Carlo – you want to take the gun, and Shirley Temple here, and keep her out of the living-room until I call you? But one thing. If I tell you to waste her, you waste her, and quick. Let’s not make any mistakes about that.’

The Angel with the frizzy hair took the Magnum, gripped Sally’s wrist, and pushed her out of the kitchen. He grinned at Season as he passed by, and said, ‘Nice tits, lady. Real nice tits. I’ll catch you later.’

Sally, swallowing in fear, said, ‘Mommy! Mommy – what are they going to do?’ but Season simply shook her head, and tried to smile. There were too many tears choked up in her throat for the words to come out.

Oxnard rapped to Vee, ‘Come on, honey. You too. Get it all off.’

Vee hesitated for a moment, but then she tugged her pink sundress over her head, and dropped it to the floor. She was even skinnier than Season, with a dark mahogany suntan from years in California. There were faint semi-circular scars under her breasts where she had them had lifted.