Wrath White - The Resurrectionist

Sarah smiled weakly, then made a pouty face.

“We could fuck just as well in an apartment. Probably better because I’d see you more.”

“All you think about is fucking. I guess I should be flattered.”

“What else is there to think about? I’m bored half to death!”

“You could work on your dissertation.”

“But if I finish my degree I’ll have to get a real job; then I’d have even less time to drive you crazy.”

Josh kissed her again and wrinkled his nose at her musky smell.

“I hope you’re going to shower before I get home.”

“You know you like me when I’m dirty.”

She winked at him as she pulled her shirt over her head. She was pleased to see his eyes zero in on her breasts. It meant that he was still attracted to her. He knelt down to slip on his shoes and Sarah wondered what he would have done if she’d dropped her shorts and told him to lick her pussy — sweat, funk, and all. Knowing him, he would have probably done it just to please her. He may have even enjoyed it. The thought of it began to turn her on. One day she’d have to try it.

“Good-bye, beautiful.” Josh walked out the door.

Almost immediately the silence became deafening. Sarah walked into the kitchen to get her gun and then walked upstairs, leaving all the lights on downstairs. This was not the time to worry about the electric bill. The last thing she wanted was to be in a dark house alone.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, on her ugly new sheets, cradling the gun in her lap, Sarah wished she had talked Josh into buying her a pit bull. As much as the notion of pooper-scooping repulsed her, it would have been nice to have something big and mean in the house that was on her side. She’d have to talk to Josh about that when he got home.

The forty-two-inch plasma-screen TV protruded from the wall opposite the bed, flicking from one channel to another as Sarah hunted for something to preoccupy her. Her bedroom was painted a light tan with a cola-colored accent wall behind the king-size four-poster bed and the light from the TV cast flickering shadows across the dark wall. She loved this room. But tonight it was filled with bad memories, memories she wasn’t even certain were real.

There was nothing on TV and Sarah didn’t feel like cleaning. She felt exhausted, as if she’d just run twelve miles instead of four, but she was afraid to fall asleep. Dark, violent dreams still echoed in her mind.

Sarah began flicking through pay-per-view channels, growing increasingly frustrated. She’d already seen all of the new releases and she had no appetite for soft porn. Sarah clicked off the television, tossed the cable remote across the room onto her love seat, and grabbed her laptop.

She went onto eBay and surfed through the ads for iPods, laptops, designer purses and shoes, and various collectibles before logging on to a local runners’ message board and checking the forum threads for any interesting discussions. This was her ritual. It was what she did to convince herself that she hadn’t logged on just to look at porn. But the truth was that surfing the porn sites was her favorite pastime. It wasn’t something she did for titillation so much as morbid curiosity. The bizarre fetishes she ran across amused her to no end. She kept telling herself that she was going to write a book someday and that this was simple research.

Sarah clicked through all the usual bukkake, farm sex, amputee, and midget porn sites until she got to the weird stuff. She stopped at a “sleepy sex” website for men who liked to make love to women who just lie there like corpses and then a necro-sex site for men who liked to make love to actual corpses. Josh would have lost his mind if he knew about the type of websites she went on. The necro-sex sites were all geared toward the goth crowd and featured women lying in coffins wearing pale makeup with black eye shadow. Sarah laughed and clicked on another link. For some reason, even the goth freaks who fucked fake corpses were making her uncomfortable.

She found a site for blood-play that showed men and women making love while cutting each other with razor blades and another site showing nude women hanging from nooses. Sarah shuddered and clicked off the website. It was just too much for her tonight.

“What the fuck is wrong with people?”

But Sarah knew that normally she would have found even the most violent and perverse porn sites fascinating. That was before she dreamed about being murdered, then woke up the next morning on a blood-soaked mattress. Now she wanted something more vanilla. She clicked on a lesbian site and tried to amuse herself with pictures of women who looked like anything but lesbians fucking for the camera. She closed her laptop and lay back on the bed with the gun on her chest. There was no fighting it. She was tired as hell and, for once, she wasn’t the least bit horny. She felt like she’d never be horny again.

Sarah closed her eyes and clicked the safety off the pistol.

Sarah woke up as Josh walked into the room.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sarah wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, then sat up straight in bed. She looked around the room in a panic.

“Turn on the lights.”

“Go on back to sleep,” Josh whispered.

“Turn on the lights!”

The room filled with light and Sarah immediately looked down at the sheets. Her heart began a drum roll in her chest. The sheets were white. No flowers. No paisleys. No psychedelic colors. Just plain white. Sweat broke out on her brow and she began to hyperventilate.

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.”

Josh’s forehead wrinkled and he held his hands out helplessly. The gesture annoyed the hell out of Sarah and made her feel completely alone. He eyes began to tear up.

“Oh God. Oh shit.”

“What? What is it?”

“Where are the sheets? Where are the sheets, Josh?”

Josh shrugged.

“What sheets?”

“The ugly ones we bought from The Linen Store. The hippie sheets with the paisleys and the big ugly fucking flowers? I put them on the bed before I went to sleep. Where are they? Where the fuck are they, Josh?”

Josh looked down at the bed.

“Are you sure you put them on?”

“Of course I’m sure! That’s why I bought them. So I wouldn’t forget them. I know I put them on the bed.”

Sarah sprang from the bed and stomped into the closet. She rummaged through the laundry basket, tossing jeans, T-shirts, skirts, and bras onto the floor. She ran out of the closet and downstairs to the laundry room with Josh following close behind her. She opened up the laundry machine and there were her sheets, clean, wet, balled up at the bottom of the washer. A pair of her underwear were in there too. They were the same ones she’d been wearing when she’d fallen asleep. She looked at Josh. He stared back at her wide-eyed. Slowly he shook his head.

“I didn’t wash them.” Then she added, “Where’s my gun?”

Josh stared at her blankly.

“Where’s the fucking gun? I had it with me when I went to bed. Where is it? Where’s the fucking gun?”

“Um, I think I saw it upstairs.”

Sarah dashed back up the stairs. She found the Sig Sauer sitting on the dresser. Her hand shook as she reached for it. She paused, her hand hovering over the pistol as if she was afraid to touch it. She turned and looked at Josh who was watching her, holding his breath, as if she were about to pick up a poisonous snake. They were both breathing hard.

“Did you put this here, Josh?”

“No. It was there when I walked in.”

“It was lying on my chest when I went to sleep. I was holding it with both hands.”

She picked up the gun and ejected the clip. It was empty. She pulled the slide back. The bullet she’d placed in the chamber was gone. Josh sucked in a quick breath and began looking around the room for bullets.