Page 51 of The Last Stars in the Sky
“Mom…” Mattie’s voice wavers as a second man emerges, as scruffy and weather-beaten as the first. His arm is hooked around my daughter’s neck, so she’s forced to stumble in front of him, a human shield.
“Now this here is a very pretty girl,” the man says, and he slowly, lasciviously, runs his free hand down my daughter’s body, over her small breasts, her flat belly, and then cups it between her legs. “Verypretty.”
Mattie lets out a whimper, trapped against him, unable to move. Rage burns in my veins, boils up from my gut. I want to kill these men. I want to shoot them in their kneecaps, their groins; I want to watch them bleed out. The depth of my rage, theviciousnessof it, shocks me, but it also gives me strength. I will shoot this gun if I need to. I will kill these bastards, and gladly.
“Let her go,” I state coldly.
The man chuckles, a rasping sound. “Why should I?” His hand travels back up her body, squeezes her breast, hard enough to make her wince. “I think I’m enjoying myself too much.”
“And I like the look of the skinny one,” the other man says, swinging his rifle toward Kerry. “She looks like a fighter.” Kerry makes some small sound of protest as he chuckles, and my stomach heaves, then hollows out. The reality of our situation slams into me. These men could rape and kill us; in fact, it’sprobablethey will, or at least try. They’re both armed, and I’m a bad shot. I can’t risk shooting the man who has Mattie, and the other man looks like he knows his way around his gun. I have no idea what to do.
I glance at Kerry, half hoping she’s got some solution up her sleeve, but she doesn’t even look at me. She’s staring hard at the man with the gun, her eyes narrowed in a glare, her arms folded across her body.
“Look,” I say, trying to sound strong. “You don’t want to try anything. Because if you do, at least one of you is going to go down. We’re all fighters, and you’re going to get hurt.”
The man holding Mattie chuckles and spits tobacco juice onto the floor. “You think so, missy? Because I reckon we could take you. Pretty damned easily, in fact.”
“Why?” There is a desperate edge to my voice now; am I really going to appeal to these men’s better nature? I gaze at the man holding Mattie; his face is deeply seamed with wrinkles, and there are broken veins across his nose, grey whiskery stubble on his chin and cheeks. His eyes are small and dark and pitiless. The other man is still pointing his rifle at me, his expression almost indifferent. I’m nothing to him, I realize, nothing, and yet something to be taken, had. Still, foolishly, I persevere. “We’re just trying to survive, the same as you are.”
“Well,” he replies, his hand moving back down Mattie’s body, “there’s survival, and then there’ssurvival.” Once again, he goes for her crotch, and my vision blurs with rage. I have to do something. Now.
The man takes a step toward me. The man with the rifle glances at his partner, distracted for a single second, and I take the only chance I’ll probably get.
“Duck,” I scream at Mattie, and then I pull the trigger. The sound in the enclosed place is far louder than I expected, hurting my eardrums, bouncing off the walls, and I jump, nearly dropping the gun. By the time I blink the world back into focus, Mattie has wrenched herself out of the man’s grasp and she and Kerry are huddled by the door. The man with the rifle has it pointed at me.
“Youbitch,” he states coldly. “You’re going to pay for that. Slowly.”
“You will too, if you think you can shoot me without getting shot yourself.” My voice is trembling, but my hands are not. I aim the gun right back at him but then I glance at the other man; his shoulder is bloody, and he’s doubled over, gasping in pain. I actually hit him. I can’t believe it. And that’s my mistake, that single glance, because while I’m distracted, the man shoots.
The sound of the gunshot explodes through the room, and I feel the blaze through my shoulder, more heat than pain, at least at first.
“That was because I don’t want to kill you,” the man says, as he stalks toward me while I reel, trying to hold on to the gun even though one of my arms now feels useless. “Yet.” He grabs my hair, yanking my head back so hard I yelp. Then he’s throwing me to the ground, and my head slams into the concrete, so for a second, I see stars. The gun falls from my hands, clattering on the floor as I try to twist away from the man, who is now straddling my body, his eyes narrowed, his lips flecked with spittle as he wraps his dirt-stained fingers around my throat, the other hand holding his rifle, aimed at my head.
“Run,” I gasp out to Kerry and Mattie, my voice choking because he’s squeezing that hard. I’m going to die like this, Irealize numbly, but first I’ll be raped. But not my daughter.Please, not my daughter.
The man lessens the pressure on my throat, so I’m able to take a single, gasping breath before he leans into me, his eyes boring into mine. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he tells me as he grinds against me. I feel too numb to be afraid; my shoulder is now blazing with pain, and his hand is still around my throat, so I can barely breathe. The world is darkening at the edges, and it almost feels like a relief.
He reaches down to yank at my jeans, his hands fumbling with the zip, his fingers brushing my bare navel while I do my best to buck against him, my legs scrabbling on the floor, my head swimming. With my jeans halfway down my hips, he pats my pocket. “Well, looky here,” he says, and withdraws the keys to the truck. “Isn’t this nice. You ladies have yourself a vehicle.”
“Take it,” I choke out. “Take it, and let us go.”
“I don’t think this is an either/or situation,” he replies with a rasping chuckle, and then he pulls my jeans down to my knees before he reaches for the fly of his own pants.
“Mom,” Mattie whimpers.
“Damn it, Keith,” the other man wheezes from behind him, still stooped, blood trickling out from between his fingers. “Let’s just go. I’m bleeding out here.”
“You got hit in the shoulder,” the man scoffs. “Relax.” He slides his hand in my jeans; the feel of his fingers makes me rear up before he pushes me down again.
“Get off her, you filthy bastard.” Kerry’s voice is low and deadly. She’s holding my rifle; she must have crept up and got it while the man was busy with me. “Get off her, or Iwillshoot.”
“Oh, yeah?” The man twists around, a sneer on his face; he’s not afraid of us, even with a rifle pointed at his face. “You really think so, honey?” he jeers, and, without a qualm, he reaches out to wrap his hand around the butt of the rifle, wrenching itout of Kerry’s grasp with a single twist of his wrist. She wasn’t expecting such a bold, swift move, and, after a brief tug-of-war, the gun clatters to the ground. She lunges for it, and he laughs, punching her on the side of her head so she falls in a heap, dazed.
It's enough, at least, for me to scramble away from him; I try to yank my jeans up as I look wildly around for Mattie, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I hope she’s run, far and fast. Saved herself.
Meanwhile, I realize, the man now has our rifle and the keys to the truck. Even if we get out of here alive, we’re screwed.
Kerry manages to get up on her hands and knees. Her face is pale, her eyes glittering with fury, her breath coming in gasps. The man is holding a gun in each hand, lounging back a little, clearly enjoying the moment.
