Man Hunt (27 page)

One hundred and ten pounds gently touched the stack of unused weights below and lifted again. Emma was doing her bench presses. The movements were slow and controlled. She breathed in through her nose as the weights dropped and out through her mouth as she pressed them up again. Sherry was beside her on another machine doing butterflies.

As Emma's set ended, she waited for Sherry to finish and catch her breath. "So," Emma questioned, "do you think you're ready for your first raid?"

Sherry exhaled smoothly through her pursed lips. "I'm not sure. I'm
excited
, but that doesn't mean I'm
ready
. It's been such a joy goofing off while Gertrude thinks we're out hunting, but now there's real work to do. I'm so worried about messing up."

"Don't let it get to you. That's just Gertie's pressure talking."

"I guess," Sherry said. She reached behind her and adjusted the weights for her next exercise. "You know, I never would have thought this, but I think that thing about the full moon is getting to
me
, too. Here we are ready for a raid in what, about another week she says? And it's a quarter moon tomorrow night! In eight days it'll be full again! It's really creepy. And these men in black sector… I've only seen a few, of course, but they're different. It's so obvious we don't have that control over them anymore."

"They've been in the field too long. They think they have freedom, and that makes them unpredictable. It's tougher, but all the more invigorating when we make a kill. You'll see."

"Well, Gertrude has certainly made it all sound exciting. It's just that her plan is still so sketchy."

"She likes it that way."

"How do we know she's even got the right place?"

"It's the right place. Don't worry. If there's one thing you can trust about Gertrude, it's her hunches. Those clues we find… she studies the time and location of every one of them over and over on her stupid maps."

"Did I hear Lucy right earlier? We might be using girls from the blue squad? I was never a part of a raid when I was in blue. Why would Gertie need so many women now? And why doesn't she just take the black trainers?"

"Well, with Josie gone, Rachael's far too busy. They never
go to raids anyway. Besides, they have enough fun with the men already. But I think I heard Lucy say the terrain of this location takes more women to ensure a kill. It's rare, but it happens. My first raid was only my third week on the blue squad. I didn't get any action though. I doubt you will either."

"You sure she's not just taking out some anger on Lorraine by stealing her girls?"

"It's possible. Everyone knows it was Lorraine that trashed her office."

"I can't
believe
she did that!" Sherry peeked towards the door before adding, "But
God
I would have loved to have seen Dirty Gertie's face, wouldn't you?"

"You have no idea," Emma agreed. Her smiled widened wickedly. "I heard she yelled at Monica, just because she was there when she opened the door."

"
I
heard Lorraine yelled at
Rhonda
cause Gertie took one of her files!"

"That's probably just a rumor," Emma admitted. "Who knows what the truth is. All I do know is it's been a really long time since the last black kill, and Gertie's on a warpath."

"It's nearly a record, isn't it?" Sherry asked.

"I dunno. Maybe. Either way, we better not screw up a damned thing between now and then. The last thing we need is Gertie's wrath on our heads."

"You're not kidding," Sherry said. She soon positioned herself for some quad exercises and began counting off the repetitions in her head. She took the exercise seriously. Now more than ever she needed to be at the peak of her physical form.

The two girls finished their required routines less than a half an hour later. Without discussing it, both then stayed and did a little more.

Monica put the Glock away. Not just in its holster but in her backpack. The girl had done it. She'd actually done it.

"Gertrude, you're a genius," she mumbled.

As she watched Josie cross the parking lot below, Monica approached a young maple tree and got out her satphone.

She had some amazing news and interpretations for Gertrude, and she couldn't wait to tell her every detail.

As the minutes passed, Gertrude's mind wandered back to Josie, who was by now halfway to Hawaii on her special mission. Again she wondered just what the girl was made of.

The lecture she'd given her had been grueling, yet the girl seemed to handle it well. Many girls went soft, but Josie was older. Gertrude realized there was a chance she hadn't yet become a full woman, hadn't yet adopted The Cause as her life's work. But if she had… if she had, she really could be Lucy's replacement. The mission would tell for sure. Waiting the ten days to learn its results would be harrowing.

When a shooting star soon cut across the sky, Gertrude did not make a wish. Making wishes and other such nonsense had been listed among the many useless viewpoints of her foster parents. Gertrude smiled to herself at the rare memory from her former life.

She had hated them from the start. They were a miserable pair, constantly fighting over ridiculous wastes of time. Even worse, they were delusional. It seemed every month they talked for hours about their newest grand plan for making it rich on some insane business venture. No plan had ever reached anything close to fruition, and a rare few ever made it past the conception phase.

Her fake mother had at least been bearable. Occasionally there had been exposing moments of something that approached actual love, but on the whole the woman had been weak and little more than a pushover for that brute of a man who ruled their house.

Her fake father had been a true chauvinist. Somewhere along the way he had come to think that women were there to serve him and his kind. If he were to be believed, little Gertrude was lazy because she didn't clean his mess within moments of spilling it on the floor. Little Gertrude was slovenly because there was a smudge of dirt on her sweatshirt– never mind that she'd been hauling rocks in their makeshift garden for the past four hours at his command. And the worst had been when little Gertrude was a whore because she had wanted to wear makeup or go to the movies with a friend or, incredibly, to stay up late on New Year's Eve. And each time the insults came, her fake mother sat nearby and said nothing. The combination of the two had made Gertrude sick to her stomach.

She had almost been glad the first time she'd seen her fake father slapping her fake mother. The fury that had come to her had been surprising in its intensity and simultaneously liberating in its purity. That day, she knew now, had been her own day of conception.

In the end it had been amusing because after she murdered them Gertrude had learned they must have cared for her after all. In their will they had left her an amazing sum of money and, stranger yet, a valuable piece of unique real estate far out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

Upon further investigation, she found her fake father's own father had once owned and run the hotel at the island's center. It had been so successful he'd been able to buy more and more real estate as the years had passed, eventually owning the entire island. But her own fake father had ignored it, let it die, and squandered much of the money he'd inherited. She knew only that he had hated his father and wanted nothing to do with him. The fortune, then, fell eventually to Gertrude, an unrelated vagabond whose own true parents had died in a brutal home invasion when she was a mere infant.

She had come to the island with some trepidation but large curiosity. Still convinced someone would discover her crime, she was nevertheless protected by mountains of unforeseen money and a teenager's blind faith that she was nevertheless invincible.

When she saw what awaited her there, her vision had come to her almost immediately. Over the years Gertrude had worked hard to perfect her Cause and then make painstaking efforts towards its ultimate success. Wishes, she had come to learn, were a waste of time. Wishing on a falling star didn't weed out the sexist pigs in the world. And blowing out the candles on your birthday cake didn't remove the women who allowed themselves to become slaves.

Eventually the rain thinned to a steady drizzle and the sky gained the deeper darkness of true night. Gertrude continued to watch the GOPHER, but used her time chiefly to make some important plans for Lorraine and, possibly, Josie. By the time he woke in the dead of night, she had the sketch work of a bold and complicated contrivance she thought would take care of many of her problems in one fell swoop.

But it will have to wait,
she reminded herself,
until Josie's return.
In the back of her mind, she ignored the whispering need for a backup plan. Confidence and strength, she had come to believe, could overcome any hiccups.

The only loose thread left is the GOPHER,
she thought.
And I already know exactly how to handle him.

The instant Charles saw her, Josie changed her walk. Not confident. Not firm. But slow now. Slinky. Who cared if it was a parking lot? She didn't look directly at him but glanced once in his direction to show acknowledgement, perhaps a secret interest. But not recognition. No.
He
would have to first recognize
her. That's
how this game would be played.

He stopped, his keys dangled in the lock of his car door, as he watched her pass by one row away. Josie felt the urge to look at him, to give him her face to see, but she knew his eyes were a little lower at the moment. She could feel the heat of them. She always could.

"Is that…?" he mumbled, and Josie knew right then and there that he'd die a horrible, back-breaking death within six months. "Ex…cuse me?" he said louder. Josie stopped, turning to him, being careful to twist her body at the waist to show the curve of her breasts. She looked at him quizzically, but curious.

"Josie!" he nearly yelled it into the echoing parking lot. "It
is
you!"

"I'm… sorry, do I…" she said.
Thank God!
she thought.
He remembers, and he's happy to see me, the bastard. He's mine now.

"It's me! Charlie! How the hell have you been?"

"Charlie? Oh my
goodness!
Hello! Now what a small world it really is!" She flipped a hand at him and immediately moved straight for him, unafraid. "I'm just fine! How are you?"

"Great! What's it been... four, five years now? God! You look…
great!
"

She faked a blush. "Thanks. You too! Yes, it must be at least that long."
Six years, three months, and twelve days you fucking pig bastard,
she thought. "Now what
have
you been doing with yourself?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, same old shit. Working for my dad full-time now. Nothing much. Where the hell have
you
been? I thought I heard something about you running away or something."

"Oh please. You know how things always get so blown out of proportion. I've been living with my aunt in Hawaii. I went there to collect myself after high school and I ended up going to college there. I'll be done next spring."

"Hawaii! Get the hell out of here!"

"Yeah, I know. It sounds so crazy when I say it, but it's really been a wonderful experience. I'm doing good there. Majoring in Education." She paused then added, "and Women's Studies," just for the hell of it.

"Wow. Hawaii. That's just… that's just unbelievable."

"Trust me," Josie said with perfect conviction, "you have yet to fully understand 'unbelievable.' I should know."

"Really? Life is that exciting?"

"Right now it is. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've seen and done."

"Wow. That's so great." He paused, and Josie knew he was trying not to sound stupid as he made his next tentative move.
Just like him,
she thought.
Aggressive as always.
"I'd love to hear about this fantastic life of yours. I don't suppose you'd want to catch a coffee and danish?"

Honestly surprised, Josie held her composure. "Oh, coffee is it now?"

"Oh, God yeah. I can't get started in the morning without it."

"I… don't know. I'm not much for coffee myself." This was unnecessary, but she wanted to see him squirm in a bit of defeat before she did what she had to do. She was trying to ignore the flashback of his brutal backhand across her face, of his sweat dripping off his nose into her eyes, of the shame, the humiliation of being purposely coy to this pig who had hurt her so vilely both inside and out.

"Yes, well. That's true. Maybe if you'd rather have something else… hot chocolate at the diner maybe? They're open twenty-four hours now. On me!"

"Oh, gosh." She smiled. She pretended to blush. "I don't know. I just got back into town and I was hoping to avoid being seen."

"Oh… I'm sorry. I didn't know. I just thought we could catch up and…"

"Oh, no! That's not what I meant. I'm
glad
I bumped into
you
! I just don't want any other old friends to deal with right now. And my mom and I have been on the outs lately. She doesn't even know I'm here. I… I'm lucky I saw you first, actually. I've… thought about you." Josie held back the need to ram her finger into her throat and vomit profusely until the dirt was out of her.

"Really?" He was obviously flustered and beaming with his good fortune. It was sickening.

"Yes, well, I've had lots of time to be alone at college. Hawaii's not like here. It's beautiful, but it can be lonely. I've always regretted abandoning you. I just… I don't think I understood some things back then."

"Hey, listen. No big deal. I wasn't exactly Prince Charming either."

And just like that, even with Charles, the feelings returned. He was sincere. It was possible he felt guilty for what he'd done. Date-rape. Suddenly the words changed in their meaning. He hadn't been a pervert, a psycho, a killer. Maybe he'd just been a kid in love unable to control his teenage lust. One of the things she'd been trained about was the male sex drive. It was nothing like the female version. It was stronger, more urgent, even crippling when not fulfilled. And so resilient. And these things were especially true in the middle stages of puberty, the exact time of the incident with Charles. His eyes were soft. He was still handsome despite having gained some weight. And he was very sincere. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the jerk she remem–

NO!
she screamed at herself.
It
WAS
rape! He
DID
know what he was doing! He
WILL
pay for it with his life!

She purposely remembered Monica's office, Gertrude's face, the men whimpering in their cages, broken, beaten, ashamed, crying, that fierce backhand again, his grunting, his look of disgust, the ripping of her vagina when he'd first entered her so forcefully.

I am woman,
Josie thought with control enough to impress even herself.
Hear...Me...Roar, motherfucker.

"Well, what's past is past," she said. "We've both moved on, and we're the better for it. You know what? I'd
love
some coffee and conversation." He smiled, and Josie thus began her sufferance.

"But if it's ok with you," she said, "I'd really prefer to lay low. I don't suppose,"
yes,
she thought,
go ahead and say it… you have to say it,
"that you have a place of your own where we could have some privacy?"

Charles smiled. Beamed. There was no hiding it. He had hit the jackpot, and he knew it. The first seal of politeness had been broken, and now things would be a little different.

"As a matter of fact," he said, "I just moved into my own apartment three months ago."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's small, and I don't have much stuff, and it's not very clean right now. But it's all mine."

"Well, you have been busy then, haven't you? No roommates?" He shook his head and unlocked his car door. "No… frequent visitors?"

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, smiling confidently. "Is that your way of asking if I have a girlfriend?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe, huh? Well, then
maybe
I have a girlfriend."

"Ok, ok." Josie paused only long enough to playfully slide her hair off her forehead. She felt like kicking him in the balls as she did it. "Yes, it
is
my way of asking. Do you?" Now she was shocking him with her forwardness. But he was standard Charles in reply, aggressive and unquestioning.

He faced her again and leaned against his car. "No," he said. "No girlfriend. Not for some time now." Josie only smiled, letting him draw his own conclusions at its meaning. "So, do you want to follow me or…"

"You can drive me. I was expecting a ride," she said, holding up her sole suitcase as if it explained everything, "but I can call and change plans." She didn't say any more. She didn't want him to get curious about her life back here in town. It was better to keep her story simple.

"Excellent," he said. "Hop in."

She did so, and the air inside his car smelled exactly like a musk ox in full heat.