Kiss The Girls and Make Them Die (26 page)

She let him lead her, half-pulling, up the steep shaley bank. He stopped, lit a match, shook it out quickly. In that brief glimpse she saw that they Were standing on a heap of rubble, partly enclosed by a small amphitheater of rock. At its base was a black semicircular hole.

“I used to meditate in there, before I fixed up the cabin.
i
showed it to Debra once.”

Liza had to duck her head and squeeze through on her stomach. She found herself in silent smothering
darkness. A few seconds later Danny came in and stood up beside.her. He struck a match, and she saw that they were standing on a heap of wet rocks. The feeble yellow light barely reached the jagged walls of the cavern; the floor was about fifteen feet below them, spotted with pools of black water motionless as mirrors. She descended ahead of him, and moved slowly across the cavern floor, pausing when he struck another match. The stillness was oppressive; the water dripped constantly from the roof,
plink-plink-plink
.

She thought she’d reached the end of the cave, but it was only a sudden curve in the wall. She walked around it, and stopped. A huge slab of rock had fallen from the roof and lay on the floor of the cavern. Sitting on top of it, casting a feeble fight on the dog-toothed stalactites, was a candle. It was precisely the vision Liza had seen in Miz Adam’s kitchen. She felt a hysterical giggle rise up in her throat.

“She left a candle burning for you.”

Dan swept past her, grabbed the candle, and strode on around the rock. When she caught up with him he was standing there, looking at the design which had been spray-painted on the far wall of the cave. The colors were brilliant, a rainbow display of acrylic red, blue, yellow, green and purple, crudely modeled after the design on the cabin wall. In the center was a luminous black blotch, spreading its tentacles out over the rest of the mural.

“It’s her spider,” said Danny.

“Her spider?”

“She told me, it sits up inside her mind. It builds a web. She can’t think. She has to break out … with action. She never knows what kind of action will break it. So she keeps trying different things.”

“How long has she had it?”

“Since Mama died. That’s when it started. She said it got bigger while I was in Nam. It’s like a waiting room. You’re sitting there with all those people, you’ve read all the magazines, talked to everyone. They bore you so
much you feel like slapping them, just to get a reaction. That’s what she told me.”

“You’re describing schizoprenia.”

“Am I?”

Liza nodded. “The sense of time having stopped … some hovering doom which can only be prevented by action. Somebody is about to do something, the trap is closing …”

“Is there a cure?”

“As far as we know there’s no cure. But we can help.”

“How?”

“Keep them from running into furniture—moving cars—police bullets …”

“By locking them up and bombing them out with Thorazine. What good is that?”

“Well, it’s
something
. You can’t just shoot them. Or abandon them, like Boots did Debra.”

Dan strode forward and stooped down. For a second Liza thought the huddled form was a body, then she saw that it was a lumped-up sleeping bag. Behind it, shoved back against the wall of the cavern, was an ancient trunk with a dome-shaped lid. Dan handed her the candle and dragged it out. “This used to be Mama’s. I never knew what happened to it.”

He unbuckled the clasp and lifted the lid. The top tray was full of jewelry, trinkets—billiolds. Dan picked up a cowhide wallet and flipped it open, riffled through the half-dozen plastic photo-pockets, held it out to Liza. His face was bleak, his eyes filled with sorrow rather than shock. She read the name on the driver’s license:
Magda Roberts
. He handed her another:
Christina Webb
. And then another. He seemed to be torturing himself, getting some kind of perverse pleasure from each new proof of Debra’s guilt.

The tray also held several photographs set in frames, some gold, some wood, some cardboard. Most were of a woman resembling Debra, but dressed in the long-skirts and padded shoulders of the late forties. One showed her seated in an armchair holding a baby in each arm.

The woman’s head had been scissored out, and Debra’s face pasted in. Liza felt a chill.

“She wanted to take your mother’s place. Most people grow out of it. She didn’t, apparently.”

“But these …” Dan picked up one of the wallets. “I still can’t believe it. She could have found them. Somebody could have thrown them down.”

“See what’s under the tray,” said Liza.

He stuck his thumbs in the holes and lifted out the tray. The trunk was filled with a strange bric-a-brac: the bottom of what looked like a beer-glass, broken in a jagged point … a seven-inch switch-blade knife … a three-foot length of nylon cord …

Liza saw the brown stains on the glass. She felt sick. “These are the weapons she used.”

Danny picked up a green plastic cylinder, pointed at the brass cap on the end. “Twelve gauge. Double-ought shot.” He tossed it back in the trunk. “That’s the one that got Dad.” He looked up at her, his eyes bleak. “You’re right about her. It doesn’t make any difference but you’re right.”

“How can you say it doesn’t make any difference?”

“Because it’s done and they’ve hung it on me. The only way I can get out is to hang it on Debra. And that’s something I can’t do. I just can’t do it.”

Liza felt an impulse to shake him. “Dan, you can’t protect her any longer. She’s across the line.”

“I know—but it doesn’t make any difference.”

“Dammit, it does make a difference. Crimes like this—they won’t stop until she’s caught. Don’t you understand that? She
wants
to be caught.”

“Maybe if I took her to Mexico. I’ve got a ticket.”

She felt tempted to tell him about the bodies she’d left behind at the farm. But she couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t trip him into making some kind of desperate last stand, going out with Debra in a barrage of bullets …

“Dan, let me try to explain. The mind has a healing power—forgetfulness. Like a cut on your finger gets covered by super-tough scar tissue. You block out memories which give you pain. Don’t tell me it isn’t true.”

“I know. It’s true.”

“Now imagine if these sores didn’t heal. You couldn’t forget, you couldn’t think about something else, the poison would leak out and spread through your system, until this one tiny wound destroyed your whole mind. That’s what will happen to Debra eventually. You’ll have an imbecile on your hands—if you survive.”

“Is it going to help her by locking her up in prison? Don’t give me that.”

“Dan, she’s already in a prison. She’s locked up inside a chamber of horrors—her own mind. She can’t get out until somebody gives her the key—”

Liza’s voice stopped as the candle went out. For a moment there was smothering darkness—then fire lashed through the cavern, filled it with horrendous crashes that threatened to explode her eardrums. The top of her head stung, and she felt a warm rush of blood down her cheek. Then she was seized roughly and thrown down; a heavy weight crushed her body against the hard rock. She reached behind her, felt the hard muscular curve of Danny’s shoulder, groped and found his hand, felt it close tightly around hers …

Abruptly the noise ended.

“You can both sit up now.” The voice was flat, cold, dead.

Debra stood quietly, watching the two digging into her trunk. The gunstock felt oily under her hand, the trigger trembled against her finger. The rifle was ready to give birth, little lead babies would burst their brass jackets and fly to flesh, pop-pop-pop, bursting her skin like raindrops striking dust. The woman was the Enemy. Debra remembered Danny saying, that time she had visited him at the hospital: “They can’t worry about whether you’re crazy or not, they have to keep at you until you’re down and out, otherwise they’ll be in trouble with their boss … and he’ll be in trouble with
his
boss, and so on right up to the president of the United States. It’s nothing but a damn MACHINE! You try to fight it, strike at something, anything. You strike metal and it hurts your fists, so you hit your fellow victims because they’re the only ones who feel anything.”

Debra imagined her fists striking Elizabeth’s flesh, her fingers gripping, squeezing, gouging her face like foam rubber.

Danny, I want to give you happiness, love, peace, but—

I can’t give what I don’t have, can I?

No, Debra, you can’t
.

The candle flickered, she felt the heat pressing against her face. The dancing light slashed the darkness into jagged pieces. The ceiling and walls were swelling, pressing
in on her. Everything was shiny and plastic. She could hear Danny muttering under his breath. “Oh Jesus, Jesus …”

Dan, why are you showing her my treasure chest?

She lifted the rifle and fired at the candle. Darkness exploded and filled the cavern. She heard the bullet
pt-tweeng
. Chips of rock went
zzzt-zzzt
around her ears. She sent two more shots into the darkness. Voices muttered: mumble-mumble-mumble. Somebody sneaking up on her. She fired again, reached into her pocket and found the box of bullets, began cramming them into the magazine. Snick! snick! Hard heavy metal, the flesh cannot withstand … oh, where am I!

Those willow switches cut like wire.

Daddy, please …

She heard the whine, felt the lash on her bare buttocks.
Daddy, we were only—

I’ll tell everybody that you have been having relations with me. Then you know what they’ll do to you, you filthy old man?

“They heat the kiln up to fourteen hundred degrees,”
said the man at the crematorium.
“You wouldn’t want to watch”

But she did, and saw him shrivel like a baked apple. When there was nothing left but charred bones they ground it into gray powder and gave her the urn. She carried it home and flushed it down the stool saying, So long, Dad. Then she filled the urn with wood ashes and gave it to the undertaker.

“Boyfriends? Have you had many boyfriends, Debbie?”
Boots, on my widowing night … wedding night—a puzzled man.
“You’re no virgin”

Nope.

And this is no cough drop.

Suck-my-soul, little pig sausage and blueberry pancakes for breakfast. An open and shut case. There’s a wind vibrating the Venetian blind, a catalpa leaf flutters in the breezle. Decode me, please. Well thank you, don’t mind
if I … Dot the eyes and blank out the teeth, Debbie’s in the cookpot, baking out bread. I couldn’t walk in Mama’s shoes, they kept sliding off. He asked if I enjoyed sex with him and I said It’s like a duty sort of. Do you know what an MG costs? Upwards of three thousand. Boots is a pimple, I squeeze out the white stuff. Rolled myself up in the carpet and he unrolled me and I rolled myself up again. This room is a pigpen, don’t you ever clean? The girl I was she didn’t, they scratch and I scratch back, I said Go get fucked you hunky, I’ll boil you down to a soup bone. It’s all over all over me—What is it about twenty-five? That’s two dozen plus one. Regard the beamish brilliance of her illentect—intellect. I caught it between my teeth and bit,
so
. One interesting feature was the hairbrush on the bureau, I didn’t expect him to use the bristley end, but it wasn’t, it didn’t feel, I couldn’t tell whether it felt good or bad but it sure
did
. We got an old custom in these parts called stompin. Boots liked to do it with his boots on, sometimes I pretended to come when I didn’t. Helen said it was okay to sleep with her when Daddy got drunk. Your father’s assumption seems to be that females are somehow devoid of free will and must either be raped or purchased in marriage. It isn’t pleasant for me either, I want you to know that. Debra’s a very clever young lady, her test scores put her on the genius level verbally, she just doesn’t apply herself. I
can
apply myself. I do. Don’t swear, finish your milk, brush your teeth, don’t finger yourself in public, blow your hair, comb your nose, shut your fingernails, clean the toilet door when you—

Shut up SHUT UP SHUUUUUUUT UUUUUUP!

The cavern fell silent. She felt calm, relaxed, immensely powerful. She struck a match, held it to the candle, saw the two figures huddled against the wall. Smiling, she said:

“You can both get up now.”

Liza felt no panic, only an icy realization that she was up against a combination both deadly and unpredictable.

Debra stood with her elbow propped on the rock, small fist bracing her chin. If she was nervous she didn’t show it, but wore an odd knowing smile on her lips. She held the rifle against her hip, finger inside the trigger guard. The blue barrel was pointed directly at Liza’s chest.

Debra made her think of a strange little bird, wrapped in odd plumage—short denim jacket, high-crowned denim hat with pin stripes, boy’s jeans. She’d apparently dressed to look like Danny, even to combing her hair down around her ears and smearing soot on her lower jaw to make it look like she had a beard. She looked pensive, ethereal, with an odd skin glow that didn’t quite register with the eye at first glance. Her eyes were large and limpid, the wide triangular forehead soap-white and almost luminescent. Liza recalled reading about the odd porcelain beauty of the schizophrenic …

The gun barrel jerked sideways. “Stand away from him.”

Liza took a step to the right.

“More.”

Liza took another step. She slid her eyes over and looked at Danny wondering, What is he going to do? He stood bent at the waist, studying Debra with an intent, watchful expression. Liza felt a sour bitterness. He was not in danger. Debra would not kill Dan, her brother, her lover. He was safe and he knew it. Whatever happened would have to be done by her. She could expect no help from Dan. She was alone, she would die in the cave and they would leave and nobody would know …

Pity, pity. Poor Liza
.

She looked back at Debra, saw the smile playing around her lips. She knows, thought Liza. She knows what I’m thinking—

Or is it her thought I’m picking up?

I’ve got to get hold of this
.

She stood about four feet from Dan, about twelve feet from Debra. The three formed an elongated triangle with the candle flickering in the center. The light touched them
all, seemed to link them into a single unit, blending their minds into one powerful, pervading PRESENCE.

Liza felt the presence and knew what it was.
Paranoia
. It was this she had to defeat, not only in Debra, but in herself.

She made her voice sound calm and idly curious:

“What are you going to do, Debra? Have you thought about your children?”

Debra’s shoulder lifted slightly. Nothing would come from her, Liza realized, no small talk, no explanation. She was socked into some strange eddy of space-time, nothing from outside could reach her …

Liza tried again: “I’m curious about your mural. What does it mean?”

Debra’s face didn’t change, nor did she nod or blink her eyes in response, but Liza had a feeling she was absorbing the words, translating them mentally into some arcane language.

When Debra spoke, she looked at Danny. “You told me there was light, but all I ever saw was black, blacker-than-black.”

He spoke gently: “The light is behind the blackness.”

“I wish I could believe that. I can’t.”

Watching the two of them, Liza had the feeling of being shut out.
The third wheel syndrome
, she thought. In a sudden burst of impatience, she asked: “Debra, do you know why you killed those girls?”

“No.”

The word came without hestitation, the eyes were direct, unblinking. She’s telling the truth, thought Liza. She wondered where people got the idea that killers wouldn’t look you in the eye. They do, she thought, and that’s when you realize what they are. Debra’s eyes were arrogant, penetrating.
Anything short of murder
—a phrase used to describe the ultimate in dedication. But Debra had overstepped the limit, now she looked down on mere mortals who had never had the courage to kill.

My God, I’m making a case for her
.

She wondered what Danny was doing, but didn’t dare
break contact with Debra’s eyes. She cast her mind back over the years of disarming patients, taking away the bottles, knives, ropes and other objects they used to defend themselves against a hostile world. She considered the strange warped logic of schizophrenics, the elaborate, rigid rules which governed their behavior …

Rules. What rules govern Debra? I’ve got to find out.

“Debra, did your father ever beat you?”

She looked at Liza, her bright eyes glittering. “Dan was the one who always got in trouble.”

“And he was beaten for it?”

Her mouth curved down. “Dad was a man who insisted on obedience. Dan didn’t obey.”

“And Debra did?”

A flashy little-girl smile dimpled her cheeks. “She was sugar and spice, like girls are meant to be.”

“And your father never beat her?”

“Once.”

“Only once?”

“Twice.” Her shoulders drew together and forward, like somebody trying to ward off a blow. Liza saw her thumb moving back and forth across the stock of the rifle, her foot tap-tapping on the ground. She was never in repose, but either frozen or touching, grasping, rubbing, like a blind person who sees with her body.

“Why did he beat you?”

“Because I wouldn’t—” Suddenly she jerked the rifle up. “I know what you’re after.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“Trying to help yourself. You’re just like those girls. Look at you, with your tits half hanging out.”

Involuntarily, Liza raised her hand to the lapels of her tunic. “I’m like those girls? How?”

“He didn’t want them, not any of them really. They never left him alone. They deserved what they got.”

“You really think they deserved to die? What crime did they commit?”

“Destroying his life, bringing drugs and waving their … cunts in his face. He was trying to straighten himself
out. They didn’t want that. Because if he ever did he’d never have another thing to do with them. Bitches, every damn one of them. Whores.”

Dan spoke angrily. “You used to say that about Dad’s boozing partners. Christ, you’re a jealous bitch.”

Liza felt her stomach tighten. Dan had apparently forgotten that Debra held a gun. The girl’s eyes were awash with tears, her mouth twisted from side to side.

“Debra, Listen.” Liza slid one foot forward. “I never made love to your brother. You only kill those who do, right? Like Lona …” From behind her she heard Dan’s sharp indrawn breath. “And Maude Adams …” She paused, noting the puzzled wrinkling between Debra’s brows. “Oh, Miz Adams doesn’t qualify, does she? She was trying to call on the telephone, true—but still you have to admit that you stretched a point. And it’ll go on that way, fewer and fewer things will fit the pattern, until finally you’ll get confused, you won’t know who is your friend and who is your enemy. Where is everybody else? Your husband gave up and left you. Your children—you gave them away. You’re down to two of us now. Myself and Danny. Everybody else is coming this way with guns and dogs, and if you shoot me they’ll kill you both. I’m the only one who can explain to them. Danny can’t, they’d shoot him too, the minute he stuck out his head. I’m the only one, the only one who can help you—”

She felt something strike her shoulder. The jolt rocked her to one side, just as the shot crashed and fire lanced from the barrel of the gun. As she stumbled over the rubble she was aware of Dan moving past her in a blur. She heard another shot, a grunt, and a clatter of wood and metal. She turned to see Dan crouching, his arms spread as he tried to capture Debra, but Debra leaped to one side with fantastic agility, pivoted on one foot, and sprang at Liza. Liza jumped backward—too late. The girl’s body struck her, clawed hands clutched her tunic. For a few seconds Liza kept her footing, but Debra had the strength of madness. Arms like steel whips swung her off the ground, threw her down with a jar that forced the air from her
lungs. For a moment darkness threatened to envelop her, then through a red haze she saw Debra’s face loom over her, the limpid eyes wide now, fixed with a glassy stare, lips peeled back from white teeth. She felt the warm wet mouth touch her throat, then the teeth closed on a neck tendon. Burning arrows of pain shot down her arm and laced her skull. She managed to get her arms free and plunged her fingers into the girl’s hair, twisting it. She strained to force Debra’s head back, but the teeth had locked in her throat. Debra moved her jaw from side to side, grinding Liza’s flesh between them, while animal snarls issued from her throat.
Where is Dan?
she wondered. Liza wanted to scream but her windpipe was clamped shut. She could barely breathe, and the light was going dim. She brought her knee up into Debra’s crotch. The girl grunted but held on. Oh God, thought Liza, I’m going to lose …

Abruptly Debra’s teeth loosened. A second later the weight of her body was gone. Liza opened her eyes and saw Danny holding Debra off the ground, his arms under her shoulders and his hands laced at the back of her neck. The girl’s foot lashed out and hit Liza’s knee. Liza gasped with pain and drew her legs up against her chest.

The rest of the struggle was brief. Dan fell to the ground with Debra beneath him, caught the lapels of her jacket and pulled it halfway down her back, then caught the waistband of her jeans and yanked them down to her knees. He sat astride her back, grabbed her wrists, and forced her arms up between her shoulders. Debra screamed, her head flew back, blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Dan clamped his forearm over her throat and looked at Liza: “Get me the rope from the locker.”