Blood Fugue Page 8

  Resolved, he went indoors to pack.

  On the bed, Kerrigan laid out a first aid kit, dried food rations, a bivvy bag and sleeping bag. Beside these he placed a tarpaulin for additional shelter, a lightweight camping stove, energy bars and a single change of clothes for himself. He counted out four foil exposure bags. Alongside all this he laid several binders and his walking staff. From a drawer in the kitchen he took a large, sheathed hunting knife, rope and paracord. Standing back to assess his equipment, he felt something was missing. He searched in all the usual places but couldn’t find anything else that seemed useful.

  Something drew him back to the pantry. He checked it several times but didn’t discover anything. On his fourth trip, he noticed a dusty wooden crate on the floor that he couldn’t remember putting there or ever opening. He slid it out, starting back a little when his hands first touched it; he could feel a slight hum or vibration coming from it, as though a current were passing through it.

  He brushed the dust away with his fingers and coughed. It was not a crate, but a chest made of dark, ancient pine. Someone had put a good deal of effort and care into its creation. It was about three feet long, six inches high and less than a foot wide. There were markings carved into the wood like the ones he carved into the binders.

  The lid of the chest was not hinged; it fitted down inside the walls with no discernible join. He saw a tab of leather poking out on the right hands side and pulled it. The lid lifted enough for him to remove it. He placed it to one side and leaned forward.

  Inside was a stone-headed tomahawk, laid to rest like a corpse in a black fur lining. The fur was the smoothest, softest thing Kerrigan had ever touched. He had no idea what kind of animal might have been sacrificed to create such a comfortable resting place. Neither what kind, nor how many.

  The tomahawk was simple. A heavy pine shaft, carved with similar designs to those on his staff. A thick leather thong looped through its haft. Finer strips of hide had been woven around the haft to create a non-slip grip.

  The shaft passed through the centre of the head, broadening there to prevent it from detaching when swung. Criss-crossed leather strips further secured the head to the shaft.

  The head itself was fashioned from a Singing River stone, similar to those Kerrigan used to hold his maps open. The stone had been knapped into a blade on one side, much like an ancient flint tool. The edge didn’t look that sharp but with so much weight behind it, it would inflict devastating damage. The opposite end of the head tapered to a vicious hook, its flattened point similar to the claw of a mountain lion but far larger. The claw’s inner edge had also been honed into a blade. The surface of the tomahawk head was profoundly darker than Kerrigan’s map stones. Polished until it was reflective, it was almost black. Mica glinted in its surface like stars in a clear night sky.

  Beneath the tomahawk, moulded into the fur, were two conical leather sleeves. It took him almost a minute to understand that they were forearm guards, each with several apertures perfectly designed to hold binders. The guards had leather lattices to adjust their tightness. Kerrigan stared at the contents of the chest and lost himself. A sense of urgency brought him back to moment.

  He reached out and grasped the tomahawk’s handle.

  Carla Jimenez woke suddenly.

  A dream? A kick from Luis?

  She raised her head and blinked a few times. Eyes open or closed; it made no difference to the depth of the dark. She let her head rest back on the folded sweater she was using for a pillow and sighed.

  The tent smelled of sweaty feet and her brother’s farts and the ground beneath her camping mat was lumpy. Why, in a country famous for convenience and comfort, were they punishing themselves like this? She felt a brief, hot hatred for her father, swiftly followed by guilt; if she genuinely hadn’t wanted to come, he probably would have let her stay with her grandmother in San Sebastian, but she’d been curious about America. She’d believed a camping trip would be fun.

  A noise outside interrupted her thoughts.

  Carla strained her hearing into the night. There was nothing, not even the hiss of a breeze through the pines. Then, over the sighs and snores around her in the cramped tent, she heard it again: whispered laughter. Suddenly very alert, she came up with an explanation. It was possible there were other campers and hikers out on the trails; perhaps not far away, perhaps partying. Except this hadn’t sounded like merriment — to know they weren’t travelling these trails alone would have been a comfort.

  No. She’d heard the laughter of a single person. A man. And not the laughter that follows jokes or the laughter of friends sharing memories and swapping stories. There in the interminable dark, the laughter sounded insane. The mirth of someone witnessing a suicide on closed circuit TV or running over a dog. She’d never heard such a demented sound.

  The laughter came again, closer. Moments later, from impossibly far away.

  Carla lay, tense and still, trying not to breathe audibly, listening for any sound in the forest. The forest was silent. She stayed that way, rigid and immobile, until she drifted into sleep then jerked back to consciousness, her heart galloping. Time slowed and it became impossible to discern wakefulness from sleep. Still she listened, praying to Mother Mary not to hear such laughter again.

  Not ever.

  The phone rang for a long time before she answered.

  ‘Hey, Kath. It’s me.’

  ‘Hello, Jimmy.’

  Her voice sounded distant even though the line was clear and loud. He didn’t ask her how she was doing.

  ‘I just was phoning to say I’ll be away for a day or two.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘You’re heading out onto the trails, aren’t you?’

  There was no point in lying.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, you be careful out there.’

  ‘I will be. You going to be okay, Kath? You know, if there was any way I could do this thing later I would but I’ve left it too long already. People could get hurt, or worse, if I don’t do something.’

  ‘I’ll be just fine.’

  Kerrigan thought he could hear her swallowing tears.

  Chapter 11

  Sixteen, and full of hot, adolescent rage, the two boys faced off in the car park behind Olsen’s.

  Daniel Stringer and Alfred Lindh had been best friends ever since the first fight they’d had in the playground, aged seven. They’d bloodied each other’s noses that day but neither could claim victory. When all the anger and strength had gone out of them they’d started laughing. They’d laughed every day since. Sometimes they still fought over their disagreements but the status quo had been in place so long that neither boy ever came out on top.

  In the matter of Gina Priestly however, things were different.

  ‘I love her.’

  ‘Bullshit. I love her.’

  Without further discussion their fists flew like missiles in a private war. Everyone knew Alfie and Danny, and their fights attracted few crowds because they always ended inconclusively.

  Something about this contest was different.

  Alfie used his knee in Danny’s stomach and Danny used his elbow to strike Alfie’s jaw: both moves they’d learned watching endless martial arts movies together. Equally stunned by these more damaging blows, the boys backed away from each other for a few seconds to reappraise the situation.

  ‘You sure you want to do this?’ asked Alfie. ‘’Cause I’m gonna kill you if you touch me again.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Danny. ‘I’m not kidding around. Come at me again and you’re going to hospital.’

  They stood tense and panting, ready for the next engagement. Gina Priestly watched it all from the corner of the grocery store, smiling.

  Even when she approached, they didn’t see her.

  ‘Hi, Guys. What’s up?’

  Looking from each other to her they straightened their postures and tried to tidy their ruffled hair. They both mumbled a greeting.

&
nbsp; ‘I know you boys were fighting over me.’

  Neither of them spoke.

  ‘You can both have me if you want. Would you like that?’

  Alfie looked at Danny and they both looked back at Gina.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Alfie.

  ‘Well let me make it perfectly simple for you. You do everything together, right?’

  They laughed, looking embarrassed.

  ‘Well, what I’m saying is, I want you and you both want me, so . . .’

  ‘So . . . ?’ they said together.

  ‘So we should all be together. At the same time.’

  A silence enveloped the threesome.

  ‘Uh, we’re gonna need to discuss this,’ said Alfie.

  ‘Yeah, I mean — you know, talk and like that,’ said Danny.

  ‘Fine.’

  The boys looked at each other and shrugged.

  ‘We talked it over and we’d like to do it,’ said Alfie.

  ‘It was a tough decision,’ said Danny.

  Gina smiled.

  ‘There’s one condition. I don’t want anyone to know and I don’t want to get caught.’

  ‘We won’t tell anyone,’ said Alfie.

  ‘Right,’ said Danny, ‘And we can use his house. His parents almost never come in his room.’

  ‘Huh uh. No way. We’re gonna go up to the woods.’

  ‘You want to do it outside?’

  ‘No. There’s this place I know. It’s a hunter’s cabin. It’s old and run down but there’s a bed up there and no one will ever find us.’

  They took everything they thought they might need and Gina came for them after nightfall so they wouldn’t be seen. Between them, Danny and Alfie carried the sleeping bags, blankets, beer, whisky, snacks and weed. Gina didn’t carry anything, not even a jacket.

  ‘Aren’t you going to be cold?’ Alfie asked

  ‘We’ll keep each other warm.’

  She stopped them before they made their way past Jimmy Kerrigan’s cabin and up the dirt road to The Clearing.

  ‘Keep quiet, guys. We don’t want anyone to hear us. Don’t make a sound until we’re well into the trees, okay?’

  Beyond Kerrigan’s place, the darkness closed in around them and Gina led the way. Danny couldn’t stand walking blind and turned on his flashlight.

  ‘Don’t wave that around.’ she whispered. ‘If you really need it just point it at the ground.’

  Out there in the darkness, the temperature dropping, it suddenly seemed impossible that Gina really wanted to have sex with them. The farther they walked the less he believed it.

  ‘Alfie?’ he whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You got a smoke with you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Alfie pulled a soft pack of camels from his shirt pocket, tapping one out for Danny and one for himself. They stopped to light up and Gina kept walking.

  ‘You think this is for real?’ Danny asked.

  ‘Only one way to find out.’ Alfie said.

  ‘What if we’re being set up or something?’

  A hissed whisper came back at them through the night.

  ‘Guys! You coming or what?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Just a second,’ called Alfie. And he continued under his breath: ‘So you think it’s a joke or something, Dan?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just find it hard to believe we’re about to bone Gina Priestly. I mean, I know she puts out and all, but this is us we’re talking about.’

  ‘Yeah, I hear you,’ said Alfie. ‘We should test her.’ Turning towards The Clearing, he shouted: ‘Uh, hey! Gina!’

  She ran back to them.

  ‘Shit, Alfie, keep your voice down,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Danny’s afraid of the dark,’ he said.

  ‘I am not!’ said Danny.

  ‘Sure you are. And I have a project I need to finish before school starts. So we’re just gonna head back and catch you later.’ He turned to go.

  ‘You don’t think I’m serious do you?’

  ‘No,’ Alfie said. ‘We don’t’

  ‘I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you I’m serious.’

  ‘How’re you going to do that, Gina? A little kiss in the woods isn’t enough to prove you want to do it with us. I don’t want to walk up to some cabin and discover all your friends there with video cameras and God knows what kind of unfunny gags.’

  ‘There’s no one but us.’

  She knelt down in front of Danny and unzipped his jeans. She did the same to Alfie. With one hand in each opening she tugged their penises into the night air. She closed her mouth around Danny’s and began to stroke and milk Alfie’s with her fingers. Danny gasped at the fierceness with which she sucked on him. Within seconds, both of them were iron stiff. She changed then, taking Alfie in her mouth and using her hands on Danny’s now slick erection. It wasn’t long before both of them were nearing ejaculation.

  She stopped.

  ‘I want to spend the night with you,’ she said. ‘Somewhere warm and comfortable where no one will find us. Once we’re there you can do anything you want with me.’ She stood up. ‘Are you in or not?’

  ‘We’re in,’ said Alfie as he tried to push his dick back into his jeans.

  ‘Fuckin’ A,’ said Danny attempting to do the same.

  From then on they kept pace with Gina all the way to the cabin.

  Far beyond The Clearing and off one of the trails, they stumbled through the pine trees for what felt like an hour before they found the cabin. Alfie shone his flashlight at the ivy cloaked, tumbledown exterior.

  ‘Cool. How do we get in?’

  ‘This way.’

  Gina walked around the back and they followed. There was a broken door hanging from one hinge and she pushed it open gently making sure it didn’t fall off. Once they were all inside she pushed it closed again as firmly as she could and struggled with the rusty bolt until it was locked.

  ‘Don’t want anyone surprising us, do we?’ She grinned at them in the darkness.

  ‘No, indeed,’ said Alfie.

  Danny shone his flashlight around the inside of the place, illuminating cobwebs in the corners where the walls met the ceiling. The cabin was a single large room and at one end there was a stone fireplace and chimney. There were some rickety looking wooden chairs and a table. Against the wall near the back door was an iron-framed double bed. Towards the front door, the one they’d avoided, there was a large hole in the rotten floorboards.

  ‘We’re gonna need a little more light in here,’ Danny said.

  ‘Let’s make a fire,’ said Alfie.

  ‘Go to it, guys.’

  Alfie took the flashlight and walked to the fireplace. Inside it was a fallen bird’s nest of dried grass, twigs, and tufts of down. He broke it up and arranged it into a stack.

  ‘Think we can use some of the furniture?’ he asked.

  ‘Why not?’ said Danny. ‘I don’t think anyone’s been in here in twenty years.’

  ‘Help me out, then.’

  Between them they kicked their way through the table, breaking off its legs and smashing through the top. The noise of splintering timber and grunts of effort were loud after the silence of the walk.

  ‘Hey keep it down, guys. And leave us a chair each to sit on, why don’t you?’

  Gina stood with her arms folded as the boys demolished the worm-eaten furniture. The fire started easily and, though a good deal of smoke came into the cabin to start with, once the flames grew the fire settled down and the chimney drew the smoke up and into the night. They were putting a lot of effort into making the place cosy. She smiled as she watched them and ran her finger through the dust on the windowsill, leaving a tiny canyon. The air smelled of pine, musty cloth and decay.

  Danny and Alfie opened three beers and lit a joint. Gina spread the blankets and sleeping bags over the bed’s old mattress. She downed her beer in one long pull to applause and cheers from the boys.

  ‘Let’s get tha
t whisky open,’ she said.

  Danny fumbled the screw cap off and passed it her way. She shook her head.

  ‘You first.’

  He drank, swallowed and grimaced. Alfie did the same.

  ‘Again,’ she said.

  They looked at each other, a little uncertain.

  ‘Come on, guys. I want to get wild tonight. Don’t want you two holding back. We’re gonna do it all.’

  They drank again and passed her the bottle. She put their little sips to shame and they took larger swallows the next time. They passed the joint around. The fire cast mocking images of them onto the far wall; the shadows shrank and grew in pulses with its flickering. The air grew warm and heavy with the cloying smell of grass and the bitter smoke from the burning furniture.

  Gina danced; slowly at first, seeking a rhythm in silence. She raised her hands above her head, reaching for inspiration from the black sky beyond the roof. The darkness poured into her and she found its sinuous pace; a movement like the twisting of a vast river nearing the ocean. The boys watched, dazed by her.

  Gina’s explored her body as if it was another’s. Hands on her face, hands behind her neck. Two chopsticks arranged in a cross held her hair up. She withdrew them and tossed them onto the bed, shaking down her dark coils.

  A piece at a time she removed her clothes, throwing them away until she moved naked before them but for her black motorcycle boots. She caressed her breasts and squeezed her nipples until she cried out. Turning away from them and with her legs spread wide she bent forward, fully exposing herself. She let them watch her fingers agitate and pinch the glistening folds of her cleft. Reaching behind with her free hand she circled and penetrated her anus.

  The boys looked on, erect and enraptured until Gina moved to the bed and sat down on its edge, beckoning them with a slick, shiny finger.

  She made good on her promises. Each time they came she made them hard again in any way she could. Their fluids excited her, increased her thirst. The boys were inexperienced and Gina had to make herself come with her fingers as they stabbed at her with their young, strong erections. She didn’t care. She milked them and forced whisky down their necks until they were close to passing out. Then she let them sleep.