I spit on your graves (13 page)

The night was cold and somewhat damp. You could feel that winter was coming, but I left my coat in my valise. Lord, I can't remember when I ever felt warmer. I watched the road-signs, but the road wasn't complicated. Every now and then I passed a gas-station or a row of shacks, and then just the road. Sometimes an animal scooted across the road, and I passed plots of fruit trees and some wheat fields, or nothing at all.

I figured on two to cover the hundred miles. As a matter of fact, it was really a hundred and eight or nine, not counting the time lost getting out of Buckton and riding around

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their grounds when I got there. I was out at Lou's place in an hour and a half, or maybe a minute more. I'd asked the car for all it could give. I think Lou must have been ready so I slowed down almost to a stop passing the gate. I got as close to the house as possible and I pressed the horn-button three times. At first I didn't hear a thing. I couldn't see her window from where I was, but I didn't dare get out, and I didn't want to honk again lest I rouse up somebody.

I just sat there and waited, and I saw that my hands were trembling when I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I threw it away a couple of minutes later and then I hesitated as to whether I should signal again with my horn. And then, just as I was about to get out, I felt that she was on her way, and I turned around and saw her coming up to the car.

She had on a light coat, didn't have any hat, and carried a big leather handbag which looked as though it was going to bust, and nothing else. She got in and sat down next to me without saying a word. I closed the door bending over her, but I didn't try to kiss her. She was as cold as an icicle.

I took off and turned around to get back on the highway. She stared at the road straight ahead of her. I looked at her out of the corner

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of my eye and I thought that once we had gotten out of town things ought to go better. I did another hundred miles at top speed. We began to feel that we were getting there. The air was drier and the sky was brighter. I still had another five or six hundred miles to go.

I couldn't keep on sitting beside her and just say nothing. Besides her perfume had filled the car. In a way it got me terribly excited, since it brought back to mind the picture of her standing in her bedroom with her torn panties and lynx eyes. I heaved a loud sigh so she'd notice it. She seemed to sort of wake up, to come back to life sort of, and I tried to create a more cordial atmosphere—her chilliness still bothered me.

"Cold?"

"No," she said.

She shivered, and that made her even madder. I decided she was trying to put on an act of jealousy, but I was too busy driving to try to do much about it, that is by talking, especially if she continued to be so unresponsive. I let go the wheel with my right hand and bent over to the glove compartment. I dug out a bottle of whiskey and laid it in her lap. I also found a bakelite cup there. I put that in her lap next to the bottle, shut the glove compartment and then switched on the radio.

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I should have thought of that earlier, but I was too wrought up.

What bothered me was the thought that I still had the whole job to pull off. Fortunately she took the bottle, screwed off the cap, poured herself a shot and tossed it down. I stretched out my hand. She filled the glass again and drained it herself. Only then did she pour one for me. I didn't even taste what I was drinking and I gave her back the glass. She put everything back into the glove compartment, stretched herself out on the seat and unbuttoned the two big buttons on her coat. She was wearing a suit with a short skirt and long coat-lapels. She unbuttoned the jacket too. Underneath she had on a lemon colored sweater right on her skin and for safety's sake,^ I forced myself to look at the road.

The car now smelt of perfume and whiskey and cigarette smoke, a combination that made my head reel. I didn't open the windows however. We maintained our silence. At least a half an hour went by. Then she opened up the glove compartment again and had a couple of more drinks. She felt hot now and took off her coat. As she did it, and came close to me, I bent over a little and kissed her neck, just below the ear. She jerked away suddenly and turned around and stared at me. And

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then she burst into laughter. I guess the whiskey was beginning to take effect. I drove another fifty miles without saying anything, and then I decided to try again. She'd had some more drinks.

"Don't feel right?"

"Good enough," she said in a drawl.

"Don't feel like going out with me, do

you:

ter?"

she?"

"Oh, don't mind."

"Don't feel like seeing your darling sis-

"Don't talk to me about my sister."

"She's a nice girl."

"Yeah, and she's good to screw, isn't

That took my breath away. If any of the others had said that I'd hardly have noticed, Judy, B.J, or Jicky But not Lou. She saw I was startled and laughed until I thought she'd choke. You could see she'd been drinking from the way she laughed.

"Isn't that the way you say it?"

"Yes," I agreed. "That's it, alright."

"And isn't that what she does?"

"I don't know."

She laughed again.

"It's no use, Lee. I'm too old to believe that you get yourself a baby by kissing some

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body on the mouth."

"Who said anything about a baby?"

"Jean is going to have a baby."

"Are you sick or something?"

"There's no sense lying to me, Lee. I know all about it."

"I didn't sleep with your sister."

"Yes you did."

"I didn't. And even if I had, she isn't going to have any baby."

"Why is she sick all the time?"

"She was sick at Jicky's house, and after all, she didn't have a baby then. You sister's got a delicate stomach."

"And what about the rest of her? That isn't too delicate, is it?"

Then she suddenly unleashed on me a hail of blows with her fists. I pulled my head back into my shoulders and I stepped on the gas. She hit down at me with all her strength. It wasn't much but I felt it all the same. She didn't have much muscles, but she had the strength of her anger. And then she'd gotten plenty of build up playing tennis. When she stopped I just shook myself.

"Do you feel better now."

"I feel swell. Did Jean feel better afterwards?"

"After what?"

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"After you screwed her?"

She sure must have gotten a big kick out of saying that word. If I'd put my fingers between her legs I'm sure I would have had to wipe them afterwards.

"Oh," I said, "that wasn't the first time for her."

Again a hail of blows.

"You're a filthy liar, Lee Anderson."

She was panting from the effort and stared at the road again.

"I think I'd rather screw you,' I said. "I like the way you smell better, and you've got more hair on your belly. But Jean isn't bad. I'll miss it with her once we're rid of her."

She didn't move. She took that blow without flinching. My throat was parched and at that instant I got a sudden flash of understanding. I thought 1 realized what she felt.

"Are we going to do it right away," she murmured, "or only afterwards?"

"Do what?" I said in a low voice.

I could hardly speak.

"Are you going to screw me?" she said in such a low voice. I felt rather than heard what she had said.

I was now as excited as a bull, it almost hurt.

"We've got to get rid of her first," I said.

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I said that only to see if she was really hooked.

"I don't want to," she said.

"You really care that much for your sister? You don't want to go the whole way?"

"No, not that, I don't want to wait."

Luckily for me, I saw a gas station and stopped the car. I had to get my mind on something else, otherwise I might lose my head. I didn't get out, but just told the guy to fill her up. Lou twisted the door-handle and got out. She asked the man something in a low voice, and he pointed out a shack to her. She went in and came back in about ten minutes. I took advantage of the break to put some air in a soft tire and to get the guy to bring me a sandwich that I couldn't get myself to eat.

Lou got back in. I'd paid the mechanic, and he went back to bed. I started the car and drove at full throttle again for a couple of hours. Lou didn't stir. She looked as though she were sleeping. I'd calmed myself down to normal. All of a sudden she straightened up and opened the glove compartment again, and sent down three drinks, one after the other.

I couldn't watch her move any more without my getting all excited. I tried to keep driving, but a couple of miles farther up I

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stopped the car on the shoulder. It was still dark. However, you could feel that dawn was coming. There was no wind at all. Nothing but clusters of trees and bushes all around. We hadn't gone through a town for almost a half hour.

After I'd set the brakes, I took the bottle and drank a shot, and then I told her to get out. She opened the door and took her bag, and I followed her. She went over the trees and stopped when we got there and asked me for a cigarette. I'd left them in the car. I told her to wait. She started rummaging in her bag to look for some but I'd already taken off. I ran to the car. I took the bottle back too. It was almost empty, but I had more in the trunk in the rear.

Coming back I could hardly walk comfortably, and I started unbuttoning my fly before I reached her. I suddenly saw the flash of a revolver shot, and at the same instant I felt as though my left elbow explode. My arm fell limp at my side. If I hadn't been twisted up fixing my pants I probably would have gotten the slug in my chest.

That all passed through my head in a second. And a second later I was on top of her and was twisting her wrist and then I gave her a heavy blow across her forehead with all my

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strength, because she had tried to bite me. I was in a bad position and it hurt Uke hell. She caught my blow and fell to the ground, motionless. I wasn't ready for that yet. I picked up the gun and put it in my pocket. It was a little pea-shooter like mine, but she had aimed right. I ran back to the car. I held my left arm with my right hand and I must have had a face like a Chinese mask, but I was so mad I hardly noticed how much it hurt.

I found what I was looking for, some rope, and I went back. Lou had begun to move. I had a hard time tying up her arms with only one hand. When I had her trussed up I began to slap her; I tore off her skirt and ripped her sweater and then went back to slapping her. I held her down with my knee while I tried to get her damn sweater off, but I only managed to rip open the front. It began to get light in the eastern sky; part of her body was right in the deepest shadow of the tree.

She then tried to talk and she told me I wouldn't have her because she had just telephoned to Dex to tell the police and she thought I was a horrible monster ever since I'd talked about getting rid of her sister. I laughed and I slugged her jaw with my fist because she seemed to be smiling too. Her chest was cold and hard. I asked her why she had shot me

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and I tried hard to control myself when she called me a dirty nigger and said that Dexter had told her that, and that she had come with me to warn Jean, and that she hated me more than anybody in her whole life.

I laughed again. I felt my heart pounding like a trip hammer, my hands were trembling and my left arm was still bleeding hard; I felt the blood run down my forearm.

Then I told her that white men had killed my brother and that they'd have a tough time getting me and that she was going to die in any case and I squeezed one of her breasts until she almost fainted, but she didn't cry out. I slapped her again with all my strength.

She opened her eyes again. The sun was going to rise soon. I could see her eyes shine with tears and with hatred. I bent over her. I think I must have snorted and panted like a wild beast and she began to scream. I bit her right between the thighs. I had my mouth full of black stiff hairs. I opened my jaws and clenched them again a little farther down where it was softer. I was dizzy with her perfume,—she had plenty of it there, and I closed my teeth tighter. I tried to put my hand on her mouth, but she squealed like a stuck pig, blood curdling cries. I bit harder, with all my strength and I cut through the flesh. I felt the

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blood gush into my mouth and her body writhed in spite of the rope. My face was smeared with blood and I sat back on my haunches a bit. I'd never heard a woman scream like that; all of a sudden I felt that I was shooting off in my shorts. It effected me stronger than any other time in my life, but I was afraid somebody would come.

I struck a match and saw that she was bleeding hard. Finally I began to hit down again, at first just with my right fist on her jaw, I felt her teeth shatter but I kept it up, I wanted her to stop screaming. I hit harder and then I lifted her skirt and stuck it over her mouth and then I sat down on her head. She still wriggled like an eel. I didn't think she would have held on to life so hard. She thrashed about so violently I thought my left forearm would be jerked off. I now felt such a rage that I could have skinned her alive. I got up to finish her off with some kicks. Finally I put my foot across her throat and put all my weight on it. When she had stopped moving, I felt myself go off a second time. I now felt my knees trembling and was afraid that I would faint.

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XIX

I should have gone after the pick and shovel and buried her there, but I was afraid of the cops now. I didn't want to be caught before I'd taken care of Jean. I felt the kid point the way to me. I knelt down beside Lou. I untied the rope that held her hands. There were deep cuts on her wrists and she felt soft and flabby, like corpses that are still warm. Her breasts were losing their shape. I didn't pull the skirt down off her face. I didn't want to see her head any more. I took her watch however. I wanted to have something of hers.