The Golem Part 21

Just do it, just do it, came the horrific thought, for she knew she had no choice. Do it. Give them your money. Then they'll leave. But in her mind she began to pray. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a breath, then...

"Not bad," said the big one.

At least he didn't take long, but he tasted as appalling as her dream last night. The thin one was worse; he'd clearly not washed in days.

"Yes, sir. That's some talent."

When she'd satisfied them, she doubled over.

"And don't ya dare puke. I like the idea of all that nut in your belly."

Her terror left her exhausted, her cheek pressed to the dirt. Please, G.o.d, please. Just make them go away now...

"Okay, t.i.ts. Now it's time for your party." The big one's hand dragged her back up again.

"Ain't no big deal," chuckled the thin one. "Won't be the first time you've sucked d.i.c.k for crack."

Judy's eyes bloomed at the remark. "What are you talking about?"

"Aw, now, don't jive us, t.i.ts. We know all about it." A sheet of paper was flapped before her face.

"Internet, baby! The Internet!"

Judy stared at the archival printout. FSU THEOLOGY PROF BUSTED FOR CRACK, PROSt.i.tUTION. These animals backgrounded me!

The answer to the obvious question came a moment later. "We gotta get you back where you belong," said the big one. He was finnicking with something in his fingers.

"For G.o.d's sake! What are you doing!" she wailed.

He was loading a crack pipe.

"Business, t.i.ts. We read all about ya, and we know a good customer when we see one. All the money that rich loverboy of yours has?"

"You saw the article in the paper," Judy croaked. "I was mentioned, too. Then you ran my name through public records..."

"Um-hmm, and what a naughty girl you used to be. We mean ta get'cha good and naughty again. Figure it'll take- what's his name? Seth? Figure it'll take Seth months to figure you're back on the pipe, and by then you'll have drained half his bank account for rock. Our rock. There's nothin' better for business than a crackhead with a rich boyfriend."

This was obscene. They premeditated the whole thing... "There's this buddy of ours?" The brawny one chuckled. "He calls it *targeted marketing in free enterprise.' "

The thin one laughed, and had raised his stocking mask enough to light a joint, showing facial hair. He handed the brawny one his cell phone.

"And here's why you won't tell loverboy what really happened." He showed Judy the phone's tiny display screen. He took a picture while I was...

"Cell phone camera, baby!" celebrated the thin one. "That's some technol-er-gee, huh?"

"So you go ahead'n tell him...and we'll email him this li'l pic of you smokin' our poles."

Now Judy just sat there, sullied, dirt-smudged, nauseous. The big one stuck the crackpipe in her mouth, then flicked a lighter.

"Fire up, t.i.ts. We ain't got all day."

Judy spat the pipe out. "No."

The brawny one sighed. "What is it with folks these days? They're so f.u.c.kin' rude."

"Yeah, man. Rude."

He calmly picked up the pipe, offered it to her, and said, "Take the pipe and smoke the rock." The thin one put the c.o.c.ked pistol back to her head.

Judy stared at the callused hand. "No. f.u.c.k you. Go to h.e.l.l."

The two masked men exchanged squished glances. "Go ahead and blow my head off," she monotoned, "because I'd rather be dead."

The brawny one tapped a booted foot. "She got b.a.l.l.s, ain't she?"

"Yeah. b.a.l.l.s bigger'n her hooters."

"All right, t.i.ts. We're not gonna kill you. We're gonna kill that rich boyfriend of yours instead."

"Seth! Seth! Help me, Seth!" the thin one mocked in a distressed voice. "These bad men made me smoke crack!"

Both a.s.sailants honked laughter.

"We're gonna kill him, while we make you watch. And we're gonna do it real, real slow. We've used routers on people, honeybunch, and auger drills and band saws. Think I'm lyin'?"

Judy felt dead already. She took the pipe, lit the crack, and smoked it.

"Awright!" the thin one exclaimed, clapping.

"That's a good girl, a good dirty little ho." The brawny one looked down, muscular arms crossed. "And once loverboy finds out and dumps your a.s.s, you'll be trickin' for us. Even old as ya are, you've got a couple years 'fore you're too wore out for the street. We'll have the sc.u.m bangin' ya bareback for twenty bucks a pop, get'cha all full'a the AIDS. And you won't care, t.i.ts. All you'll care about by then is crack..."

Judy reeled as if on a roller coaster. The sickening and strangely metallic fumes caused a sudden endorphin dump that felt better than anything she'd ever known in her life. Her heart raced like a film on fast forward; her brain squirmed. When the gla.s.s pipe was empty, it was refilled and put back between her lips. This time Judy didn't need to be ordered to light it. Each time she sucked the fumes in, some of her soul was sucked out.

They made her smoke three more rocks, and when she was done she lay back in the graveyard dirt, quivering. Her ma.s.sive euphoria seduced every nerve in her body as she simply lay there, riding the insane high.

The voice from above seemed fat, gaseous. "Now you're back in the saddle, t.i.ts, just where ya belong."

"Once a crackwh.o.r.e, always a crackwh.o.r.e." Something smacked her bare belly. "That should hold ya a day or two, but when ya need more...we'll be in touch."

Footsteps fading, more distorted chortles. "pleasure doin' business with ya!"

When they were gone, Judy's face turned to retch, yet as she was doing so, she spied something disgusting piled just beyond the fence and recalled that foul odor.

Past the thicket of switchgra.s.s lay several dead dogs heaped over one another, each dog headless. Why would someone...

Eventually her shuddering hand slid up to her abdomen and picked up what had been dropped there.

A big bag of crack.

IV.

That afternoon, Seth fell right into his working groove, a blessed state for creative types, but something of a curse for those in relations.h.i.+ps. The sequel's problem with new bitmap streams claimed his attention all day, with him being none the wiser as to the pa.s.sage of time. Between trial and error, and near-constant conference calls with his technicians in Tampa, it was dark by the time they worked out the glitch. That's what I call a day's work, he thought when he finally left his office at nine p.m., but a sudden double-take at the clock set off an alarm. Holy s.h.i.+t! I worked the whole day away and totally forgot about Judy! He snapped up his cell phone but didn't bother dialing when he saw her purse on the kitchen table. She must've come home from her walk a long time ago, and she didn't want to disturb me.

"Judy!" he called out. "Where are you?"

After receiving no answer, Seth took the stairs up two at a time, rus.h.i.+ng into the bedroom. "Honey?"

There she was, sprawled across the bed, still dressed in what she'd worn for her walk. "Judy?"

She roused and slowly turned on the bedside lamp. "Hi, I-"

"I didn't hear you come home, and I was so caught up in work that I lost track of time. I meant to call you."

"That's all right. I didn't want to interrupt. I got back around two, I think. I figured I'd take a short nap but I guess I slept the rest of the day away."

Her voice sounded hoa.r.s.e, and there were dark circles under her eyes. "You feeling all right? You look-"

"I must have the flu or something." She fell back onto the pillows and sighed. "Plus my period's coming. I just feel s.h.i.+tty."

"You must not have eaten all day. Let me get you something."

"No, no, my stomach's queasy, too. I just have to sleep this off."

Seth didn't like this, but what could he do? "I'll take you to a doctor tomorrow if you're not feeling better."

"I'll be all right," she said and seemed to groan. "It's just the flu or a cold." She coughed. "Did you fix the House of Flesh II glitch?"

"Yeah, took all day but I think we got it nailed. I also got a lock on the bas.e.m.e.nt doors; the key's in the kitchen closet in case you ever need it. Oh, and I reported the Great Clay Robbery to the Somner's Cove police. Talked to a sergeant named Stein, seemed pretty on top of things. He said they'll have a car drive by regularly." Seth snorted a laugh. "I felt pretty silly telling him what got stolen."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Four barrels of old clay. Usually they steal televisions." She was trying to act like some modic.u.m of her usually cheery self but it didn't work. She coughed again and winced.

I better leave her be, Seth realized. He came in and turned off the light. "You need cold medicine, aspirin? Some soup?"

"No, thanks, I just-"

"Get some sleep," he said and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Mmmm..."

Seth left but before he closed the door- "Seth?"

"I'm here."

"I...love you."

"I love you, too. Big-time. Now get a good night's sleep, hot stuff."

Seth went back down. Was he more worried than he let on? Everybody gets sick sometimes. He felt more negligent than anything. Some boyfriend. She's gone all day, and I didn't even notice. What if she'd gotten lost, or hurt herself? Alcoholic to workaholic is no compromise. I better not ever take her for granted...

Downstairs he poured a cup of decaf, then meandered out to the front porch. A cigarette would be good now, but...No way, he reminded himself. Better to breathe the warm night air and summer scents off the fields. At once, he was fascinated: the erratic green dots of light from fireflies could be seen hovering atop the endless plain of switchgra.s.s; it occurred to Seth that he'd never in his life seen them before. Night sounds rose and fell. Who needs Tampa? Who needs a big city when you've got peace and quiet and beauty like this? He could've dozed off in the porch chair, staring out. All mine, he thought.

Eventually he stood up, peered farther out, and thought he saw a more defined light, not from fireflies but almost like lamplight. "What could that be?" he muttered. It was at least a half mile deep in the fields, off to the east.

Not a fire. Electric light.

What could it be at this hour? A switchgra.s.s field is no place for campers, but then he thought a moment further and realized it must be some state workmen checking one of those irrigation stations Hovis had mentioned.

V.

"-yeah, the guy who just bought the Lowen House," Stein was saying as he and his superior entered the Food Lion. "Said in the paper he made a s.h.i.+tload of money developing some computer game."

"And he was burglarized?" Rosh asked.

"Right, sometime yesterday when he and his girlfriend were out. They didn't break into his house, they broke into his bas.e.m.e.nt."

"And stole what?"

"Four barrels of clay."

Rosh shook his head as he eyed the bosom of one of the cas.h.i.+ers, then paused at a board boasting this week's sales. spam: 3 for $5! lactose free milk: 2 for 1! "Some whacky s.h.i.+t. Clay, huh?"

"I ain't kiddin', man."

Rosh scowled.

"Sorry. I ain't kiddin', Captain."

"Acceptable." Rosh found the proper aisle and turned down. "We've got too much crime to fight to worry about s.h.i.+t like that. They guy's lucky he didn't get his car ripped off. We can't be everywhere, for s.h.i.+t's sake." He tapped Stein's uniform s.h.i.+rt. "Check this out, Sergeant." He picked up a box of Zip-Seal Mini-Bags, the one-by-one-inch size. "This has always killed me."

"What?"

"These little crack bags! A one-by-one zip-lock? You couldn't even put a grape in one of these things. All it's good for is crack or smack, nothing else. Yet some big Proctor and Gamble-like company makes 'em and sells them in grocery stores. Can you believe it? Look at this s.h.i.+t, Stein." Rosh pointed to the box. "A hundred mini zip-locks for a buck-fifty. The manufacturer knows d.a.m.n well the only thing people buy these for are selling dope, and they make money selling them. But is it against the law? h.e.l.l no. It's just an innocent little plastic bag. Can't ban that, oh, no, not in a free country."

Stein stared. "That's your harp of the day?" And then he whispered, "Jesus, Captain, we use hundreds of those things every week bagging product!"

"That's my point. They should be against the law-like Sudafed-'cos they aid and abet drug dealers."

Stein let out a long, frustrated exhalation. "Captain, what the h.e.l.l are we doing here?"

Rosh grabbed several boxes and gave Stein a c.o.c.keyed look. "We need more bags, man. Come on, get with it." And then he laughed all the way to the checkout.

The instant they got back in the cruiser, the radio squawked in exasperation, "Somner's Cove Unit Two, please come in."

"This is Unit Two," Rosh answered.

"I've been calling you for five minutes, Captain."

"Uh, we were...detained." He patted the a box of the mini zip-locks. "Police business."