Deaths of Jocasta (38 page)

“But what happened next? How’d you survive high school? When did you discover the L-word?” Alex asked.

“Actually, it was Ned who told me. Of course he and Brian were lovers. One day Ned noticed I looked bewildered. He asked me what the matter was. And I just said, ‘What’s going on here?’ He told me, as best he could. I learned the word ‘orgasm’ from him. Ned took me under his wing. Maybe he’d been as scared and confused as I was at some point.”

“Did you feel like an outcast, Micky?” Alex asked.

“Actually, no. Aunt Greta had long ago convinced me that…that I’d never qualify for polite society. And suddenly I was best friends with three of the most popular kids in high school. Sex wasn’t…that high a price to pay. The only problem was…” I faltered.

“Was what?” Alex questioned.

“Was…they graduated that year and went away to college. I was still in high school and…once you let the sexual genie out of the bottle, it’s hard to force her back in.”

“Meaning?” Joanne asked.

“I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, go back to being some celibate closet case, calmly dating high school boys. I…uh…started hanging out at gay bars. When you’re as tall as I am nobody checks your ID.”

“Did you just hang out?” Joanne pushed.

“Well,” I said, looking down at the table, “my choice was either going home to Aunt Greta’s or hanging out at the bars and maybe going home with someone else.” But if I went back to that house in the suburbs…sometimes Bayard would be there. “Time to clear up some of this mess,” I said, standing up and picking up glasses and plates.

“Leave it ’til tomorrow,” Alex said. “When the fairies come.”

I ignored her and took my load to the kitchen. Halfway back to the living room, I met Cordelia with her own pile of glasses.

“Loving couples,” she said with a nod of her head in their direction.

Danny and Elly were kissing. Joanne was touching Alex’s face, then they kissed.

“We have our cats,” I said and went back into the kitchen.

Cordelia and I neatened up. I rinsed plates and glasses and stacked them in the sink. Cordelia put the trash into plastic sacks.

“Help me with this,” she said, indicating a trash bag.

I hefted it up and followed her outside to the garbage cans. The heat felt good after the cool of the air conditioner. Of course, I was a bit underdressed.

“You okay?” she asked as she unloaded her bag.

“Me? I’m fine,” I answered.

“Fine?”

“Well, other than being embarrassed, ashamed, and feeling like a fool, no, make that a stupid fool, yes, I’m fine.”

“I think—” she began.

“No, I don’t think I want to know what you think,” I interrupted her. “It can’t be…well of me.”

“And why not?”

“After what you heard tonight?”

“Not much I didn’t already know.”

“Oh.”

“I think—” she began again.

“I told you not to do that.”

“Why? Don’t you like thinking women?”

“I love thinking women, I mean, I occasionally think myself.”

“I’ve noticed. I think—don’t cut me off—”

I started to say something, but she put a finger against my lips, silencing me.

“I think…I’d like to help you take that dress off.” Her hand moved to my shoulder.

“I think…now, I’m doing it, I probably need all the help I can get. Yours…would be welcome,” I answered, feeling the throb of desire work its way into me. I lifted her hand off my shoulder, kissing her palm.

“This place is a dump. Let’s get out of here,” she said, leading me away from the garbage cans. “My place?”

“Absolutely. I doubt my air conditioner is up to…what I’m thinking of.”

She laughed.

I’m going to sleep with Cordelia James, I thought. My stomach was doing an Olympic-caliber gymnastics routine.

“Hey, did you two get lost?” Alex called out to us.

“We just thought we’d give you loving couples time for an orgasm or so,” I replied

“Definitely so. But that’s later.”

We reentered the kitchen. Joanne and Elly were bringing in some more glasses. Danny was leaning against the counter.

“Dr. James,” she asked, “How sober are you?”

“Sober enough,” Cordelia replied.

“Good. Elly and I aren’t. You get to drive us home.”

“All right,” she agreed, giving me a look and a shrug.

We got a moment alone as people were maneuvering to leave.

“Give me an extra twenty minutes or so to get home,” she said.

“No problem,” I answered sotto voce. “I’m going to swing by my place and get some clothes for tomorrow. I don’t think I want to put this dress back on.” I also wanted to check my answering machine. Twenty-four hours was almost up.

She nodded agreement.

I hugged Joanne and Alex good-bye, then followed after Danny, Elly, and Cordelia. We waved and headed for our respective cars.

I wondered if driving under the influence of extreme lust could get you a ticket. I wasn’t doing a spectacular job of paying attention to where I was going, but I did make it to my place without mishap.

As I got out of my car, I noticed I was humming Tchaikovsky’s
Romeo and Juliet.
Sappy, I thought while fumbling for my keys.

There was no sound, no warning, save for the slight shifting of shadows. The dim glow of the streetlight disappeared and something was clamped over my nose and mouth, a cloth wet with some powerful chemical smell. I struggled, but the man behind me was strong, his huge hand covering my face, keeping the cloth in place.

I had a horrible feeling that I had found Frankenstein.

I told my arms to pull on that suffocating hand, but I had no idea if they were responding or not. The smell seeped into my lungs. It became impossible to even issue orders for my arms to ignore. Then all I was aware of was the chemical smell and the shadows.

Then even the shadows disappeared.

I woke up in what appeared to be the early morning. I was somewhat relieved since I hadn’t been at all sure I was going to wake up. I was sitting, tied to a rickety wooden chair. The sounds of the city were no longer present, instead birds and the stillness of a country morning. I glanced out the windows. Trees and pale gray clouds, the soft tattoo of rain on the roof, the wet whispering of woods.

I heard slow, heavy footsteps behind me. Frankenstein walked by me toward a solid wooden table covered with arcane jugs and bottles. I tried to guess how tall he was. At least six-four, but it was hard to tell, looking up as I was. He didn’t look “so young” to me. My powerlessness probably made him appear taller. His hair was a common brown, but did nothing to soften the angular juts of his cheekbones and chin. My nose and throat were raw from whatever he had covered my face with.

He turned and stared at me, aware that I was conscious. His eyes were unwavering, the glare of the righteous.

“Where’s Betty?” I demanded.

“Too bad you’re awake. It would be easier if you weren’t.”

“Where’s Betty?” I demanded again, ignoring his threat.

“She asked too many questions.”

“According to whom?”

He looked at me as if that was a useless idea. “Doubt. She doubted. We have no room for doubt.”

“Oh, we don’t, do we?” I mocked him. “What happened to her?” I asked again.

“She’s safe. The safest place she can be,” he replied, turning away.

“What do you want with me?” I asked.

He picked up a very nasty-looking piece of medical equipment. Suddenly I didn’t want to know.

“Like the others. You’ve murdered the innocent, the helpless. Those who could not protect themselves.” He spoke in a quiet voice for a man his size. “I will protect them. ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’”

“I’ve never had an abortion.”

“You’ve never stopped one,” he countered.

“No. But I’m not God to make those decisions for other people.”

“I’m not God. But I read the Bible. I know what He wants.”

“I’ve read the Bible, too. It never suggested that you brutally murder young women. What happened to ‘Thou shalt not kill’?”

“Thou shalt not murder. In cold blood. Is it murder to kill a murderer?”

“Then why not let God get me? What right do you have to intervene?”

“The same right you have to intervene in the lives of unborn children. A greater right. You are not so innocent as they. You have interfered too often. You give me no choice.”

“Why this way? Do you enjoy the kink of shoving things up women’s cunts?”

“Huh?” he responded, then added, “That’s a nasty word.”

“Do you get a thrill out of killing women by faking abortions on them? It would be so much easier to just use a little more of whatever it was you clamped over my face.”

“Easier, yes. But I want to stop women from killing their children. If abortion becomes dangerous enough, they’ll stop having abortions. It’ll be safer for them to keep their babies.”

“Only because you’re murdering them. And how many women are you willing to kill to save a few fetuses?”

“As many as I have to. All of them, if that’s what it takes. The Lord has given me a mission. I must fulfill it. I must stop her.”

“Stop who?”

“The devil, of course,” he answered as if this was an everyday topic of conversation. “I have seen her. He takes human form, you know.”

“He or she?” I asked, a bit confused. I didn’t think Frankenstein was implying that the devil was a transvestite.

“Satan is a he. But he’s taken the form of a woman.”

“How can you be sure?”

“It is God’s greatest gift to me—I can always find the Prince of Darkness. He cannot hide from me. Lucifer will be mine. I will get her if it’s the last thing I ever do,” Frankenstein boasted.

The man was clearly playing a symphony of loony tunes is his head. “Am I the devil?” I asked, wondering if I was the “she” he was referring to.

“You? No, you’re merely a sinner.”

Oh, just a mere sinner. I was crushed.

He continued, “Our Lord wants you to come home.”

“And you’re his taxi service? No, thanks, I’ll walk.”

Frankenstein didn’t seem to appreciate my humor. He frowned severely at me. “Pray. Pray, now. I’ll pray with you.”

He laid down his jolly little medical toys and crossed over to me, steepling his hand in a properly reverent pose. Standing directly in front of me, he began, “Dear Lord, I am praying for the soul of this sinner, this poor, deluded woman.”

Seeing that I wasn’t just brimming over with prayer, he stopped. “Join me. You must beg for mercy.” He licked his lips slowly, his face flushed, sweat beading at his hairline. “Beg me,” he insisted.

“You? Or God?” I retorted.

“You must beg me.” He licked his lips again.

“Yeah? Did God give you that?” I demanded, staring directly at the unholy bulge in his pants.

He jerked up, raising his hand as if to strike me. But instead he hit himself in the crotch, howling, “No!” as he pounded his genitals in a frenzy. He fell to his knees, sweat pouring down his face. “Dear Lord, not now. Deliver me from this temptation. Take this cross of thorns from me…” His plea dissolved into incoherence, then finally a few mutters and moans as his body shook.

If this was what morality and celibacy did for you, I was glad I had done such a good job of avoiding them both.

Frankenstein let out a loud moan, then he was still. After a few moments, he calmly stood up, his frenzy over.

“You’ve had your chance to pray,” he told me. “Now it’s time to go to the devil. God doesn’t want you.” He returned to the less than sterile-looking curette. “I must save the children.”

“You’re a madman,” I yelled at him. “A lone psychotic. Do you really think you can change anything?”

“Yes. I’ll save lives.”

“You’ll save lives by killing me?”

“I’m not alone,” he continued, ignoring my rather important question.

“Uh-huh, I see that little green man over there.”

“No, others help me. I help them. God has led us to each other.”

“God? Or the devil? So you have a lunatic or two to follow you?”

“I am not a leader, only a follower. God has given us a wiser man than I to guide me.”

“Who? Who are you following?” In the unlikely event that I got out of here, that would be a useful bit of information.

“A wise man given to us by the gift of God. He will lead us in our most important work. Soon, very soon.”

“What is that?”

Frankenstein looked at me as if remembering who he was talking to. “You’ll never know,” he answered and turned his back to me.

I jerked against my bonds, more in fury than in any real hope that they would come undone. He calmly ignored my struggling. Even if I got loose, I wasn’t likely to get past him to freedom.