Edward Lee - Succubi

The wifmunuc took the group of girls out of the room.

“Why are you doing this to me?” the old man managed to rasp.

The male figure turned. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. Like she said, it’s providence, and you’re part of it. We all are. It’s a privilege.”

He closed the bag he’d brought his needles and poisons in.

“Good night, old friend,” he said.

The old man began to convulse.

«« — »»

Erik watched the rearview. “First off, we dump the truck.”

“Huh?” Duke asked.

“They know what we’re driving,” Erik’s voice grated. “You can bet they got an APB out on this truck. If we don’t get rid of it right now, we’re dead meat.”

Duke didn’t seem interested; he was rummaging through the lawn super’s wallet. “Shit,” he spat. “All the motherfucker had on him was six bucks. We need money, man.”

“We can get money later. I got a stash.”

Duke glanced over. “Whadaya mean?”

Erik had abducted a lot of people for them, for their hideous hüslfeks. Most were runaways and drifters, but every now and then he’d run into someone with some money. Erik always took the money. For the years he’d served them, he’d socked away at least a thousand dollars. He kept it in the church basement with his things.

“Just don’t worry about it. I got all the money we need hidden back where I used to live.”

“That where we’re headed?”

“Yeah. Little town called Lockwood, half hour’s drive.

Suddenly, Duke beamed; in the glove box he found a big sheath knife. “A Gerber. Sort of like the one I used to have.”

This was not good. An escaped erotomanic sociopath with a knife probably did not add up to anything cheery. Erik knew he’d have to be very careful. “Listen, Duke, you can’t be pulling any crazy shit right now. You start up any of that and we’ve had it. We’ll be four pointed in the precaution unit for the next decade.”

Duke didn’t like to be told what to do. “No, you listen to me, fairy. I don’t take orders from no one, ’specially a baby killer faggot like you. We wouldn’t even be outta that shithole if it wasn’t that I had the balls to bust up those two cocksuckers. I haven’t seen the street since fucking Reagan was President. I’m gonna have me some fun, and no one’s gonna stop me, and if you don’t like it, just say so.” Duke was fingering the knife, glaring.

Careful, careful. “I hear you, Duke. Relax. All I’m saying is we gotta be real careful from here on. You can have your fun, just careful like, okay?”

“Yeah. Careful like.”

“And since I know these parts better than you, it’s probably a better idea we do things the way I see them. I know all the back roads, all the towns. Okay?”

“Sure. You’re the brains, I’m the balls. That’s fine by me. Just so long as we got an understanding.”

Thank God, Erik thought.

Another thing in their favor was that Class II’s and III’s got to wear regular clothes, not hospital linens. But they still had faces.

“Another thing we gotta change is the way we look. Cut our hair, dye it, stuff like that. And it’s probably a good idea for you to lose those sideburns.”

Duke forlornly stroked said muttonchops. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Cocksuckers’ll have our pictures all over the papers tomorrow.”

“And probably TV by tonight. But like I said, first thing we gotta get a new set of wheels.”

“Convenience store,” Duke offered his wisdom. “I used to snatch cars at convenience stores all the time. Most people figure they’ll be in and out real fast, so lots of ’em leave the keys in the ignition.”

Good idea, but it had too many flaws. “We can’t just take a car, Duke. If all we do is take a car, the owner will know right off and call the police. The cops’ll know what kind of car to be on the lookout for, which is the same problem we got right now.”

Duke’s sharp smile showed his understanding of the situation.

Erik went on, “So that means we gotta take the owner too. And we gotta do it so no one else sees. If there are no witnesses, there’ll be no one to tell the cops what kind of car we took.”

“And would ya looky there!” Duke exclaimed.

Just ahead the sign loomed: Qwik Stop.

Erik pulled the pickup around back by the dumpster where it couldn’t be seen from the main road. Two cars had been parked out front, a muddy Dodge Colt and an old beige Plymouth station wagon.

“Two cars out front,” Erik observed. “That means one customer in the store. The second car belongs to whoever’s working the register. Here’s what we do. We walk in like we’re looking for something, wait for the customer to leave. Then you take out the person working the register. We’ll get his keys, take him with us, and take off.”

“Sure,” Duke said. He put the knife under his shirt.

A cowbell clanged when they entered. An old bald man behind the counter looked up. Erik had been correct in his prediction: there was only one customer, a ruddy looking blonde in cutoffs and an orange halter. She stood on skinny, knobbykneed legs before the rear reach in, furiously tapping a sandaled foot. “Jaysus Chrast, pops,” she complained in a bent twang. “Dollah ninty a half gallon? Whut kand of prass is that?”

“I don’t make the prices,” replied the old man, scowling.

Erik and Duke perused the magazine rack up front. “Baby Born with Elvis Tattoo,” boasted the Enquirer. “Careful of guns,” Erik whispered. “Lots of shopkeepers around here keep guns under the counter.”

“Ain’t afraid of no guns.” Duke was leering at the blonde.

Oh, no, Erik suddenly thought.

“Ah ain’t payin’ no dallah ninety fer a dag half gallon of milk.”

“Fine. Buy milk somewhere else.” The old man shrugged.

“Shee it!” The blonde opened the reach in and bent over.

“When the girl leaves,” Erik whispered, “we take down the old guy.”

But Duke was eyeing the blonde as she bent over. “Change of plans, partner,” he whispered back. “We’re taking the girl.”

Erik should’ve known something like this might happen. “Damn it, Duke,” he whispered more fiercely. “If we do that, the old guy’ll see! He’ll tell the cops what kind of car we took!”

“Shadap,” Duke replied. “We’re taking the girl.”

“No way, Duke! We agreed to do this my—”

“Shadap, I said.”

“This ain’t no library, fellas,” said the old man. “You all can buy one of those magazines or you can leave.”

Erik felt sick. The blonde was sputtering. “Dollah goddamn ninety, I say I cain’t bull leave it!”

“We don’t want no magazine, pops.” Duke lumbered up to the counter.

“Whatcha want, then?”

The blonde was coming down the aisle.

Aw, no no no no, was all Erik could think.

“Could use a pack of Kools, though,” Duke said, showing his grin.

No no no no no…

When the old man turned to get the cigarettes, Duke sank the knife into his lower back.

The old man screamed.

The blonde dropped her milk and screamed.

Erik shouted, “Goddamn it, Duke!”

“There, pops.” Duke chuckled. “How’s that?”

The blonde, still screaming, made for the back. Erik tackled her, but it was like wrestling with a greased snake.

Duke continued to chuckle, emptying the register. The old guy was flip flopping facedown on the floor. Dark blood pumped out of the hole just above his right kidney.

The blonde slapped, punched, and clawed for all she was worth. For a moment, she was on top of Erik, fury in her eyes, teeth snapping. Erik had to hold her back to keep her from biting his face.