The Bad Ones (7 page)

And Constantine, well. He just kept on smiling. Just kept pouring salt in the wound.

Dulcie strode off, not bothering to look back when Jared called out her name. She skirted the edge of the party, then took off into the woods where there was a sort-of-trail. A foot path, really, which she prayed would lead her back to where they'd parked the cars. She didn't want to spend the night in the woods.

What the fuck.
What in the actual fuck
. She was gasping for air and realized she was almost jogging through the forest. The moonlight was barely filtering through the canopy and she was amazed she hadn't smacked into a tree or fallen down. She leaned against a stump for a moment and tried to catch her breath.

She wasn't upset about Jared – she'd been telling the truth. If their fight hadn't happened, she would've broken up with him, anyway. And she wasn't even mad at Frannie – everything the girl said had technically been the truth. Dulcie
was
frigid and she
was
a virgin. Getting upset over facts would be ridiculous.

She was angry at Con, but most of all, she was furious with herself. For not understanding what was going on in her head and in her heart. For not being able to read such a strange boy. For having the ultimate stupidity to believe he felt something for her. And for feeling like her heart broke a little when he came out of the darkness with another girl.

I want to be in the dark with him.

She finally got control of herself and she continued blundering through the woods. Her mind raced as she stalked along. She would drop out of school. Not like it mattered anyway, right? She would drop out and she would move away. She would steal Matt's drug stash, sell it as she went, and go anywhere else. Somewhere she could hide in a dark corner and paint out her dark thoughts. She would go anywhere Con Masters wasn't, that's where she wanted to go.

I can't even get out of these fucking woods, how am I going to run away?

Dulcie was pretty sure she was lost. If there was a path, she'd long since left it. She was regularly kicking her way through bushes and shoving her way through branches. The party was long gone behind her, she couldn't even tell which direction she'd come from anymore. She was on a slight incline, so her only choice, really, was to keep walking down and just hope for the best.

It was so dark in the woods that when she finally broke free of the tree line, she was shocked at how bright the moon was, so big and full in the sky. It shined down and illuminated a set of rusty railroad tracks, making them almost glow. They looked very old, like a train hadn't gone over them in a long time, and she realized they were the abandoned lines just outside of town. She'd been walking away from home. All she had to do was follow the rails and eventually she'd wind up right near where they'd parked the cars.

She began walking down the center of the tracks. She really wished she'd brought her camera. Everything looked dark and eerie, she felt like she was walking through the underworld. Like maybe something magical would happen.

Wishing for a boy to like you. Wishing to run away. Wishing for magic. You are so tragically young, it's not even funny.

Dulcie was practically in the hobo camp before she was even aware there was one. The tracks went around a sharp bend and
bam
, there it was; an abandoned train station loomed in front of her. There were candles burning in a couple windows and tents had been set up along the platform, as well as on the actual tracks.

While she wasn't afraid, she also didn't particularly feel like getting raped, so she left the lines and scrambled up an embankment that ran alongside them. A couple voices called out of the darkness below, a couple hisses and rude comments, but Dulcie ignored them. Just wrapped her arms around herself and walked against a stiff breeze.

The tents eventually thinned out, and when she finally saw one without another right after it, she moved back down to the tracks. The ground was more even and there was some shelter from the wind that was picking up. She came across a large piece of quartz and kicked it along as she went, bouncing it off the rails. She stared at the large white stone and thought about a very dark boy.

What's wrong with me? What do I want? Why can't I push past this … this curtain in my head. Like a black curtain, just blocking everything until I pick up a pencil. I need my sketchbook to see anything. I need something, I need -

“I got watcha need, lady.”

The voice was so low, so resembled a hiss, that for a moment she genuinely thought it was a snake. No, not that a snake was literally talking to her. She thought she'd finally gone insane and was imagining things.

But then a form crawled out from under some cardboard boxes and slithered towards her, and she saw it was a man.

Eh. Close enough.

“I don't even know what I need,” she replied, pausing to look down at him. “How could you possibly know?”

“Because,” he croaked out, shifting form and climbing to his feet. “I'mma man. Yer a woman. I got whatchu
need.
”

He fondled his crotch as he shambled forward and Dulcie rolled her eyes.

“Nobody needs that, I promise you. Good night,” she said, and began marching away.

Fingers, suddenly, tearing at the back of her shirt. Taking hold and yanking her backward, pulling her off balance. She squawked and flailed her arms before falling into him. They both went down, one on top of the other, and ended up in a heap on top of the tracks.

“Oh,
yesssss
, jus' like that, baby,” he grunted in her ear as she wiggled around, trying to get free from him.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, get the fuck off me!” she yelled, finally crawling out from under him. She managed to get to her feet and she took a step back, wiping the grime and dirt and feel of him off her body.

The homeless guy had gotten to his knees and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her legs. She shrieked and pounded on his shoulders, trying to break free from him. Still, she wasn't really afraid. Mad again, yes, and very frustrated. That black curtain in her mind began to ruffle and move, as if a strong breeze was threatening to rip it open.

“Ain't no one gon' help you, baby. Jus' you and me out here. Ain't no one gon' hear you, lady,” he hissed up at her, and then bent his head forward, directly into her crotch.

His teeth. She could feel his teeth against the seam in her pants, directly under her zipper. His hands were raking up the backs of her thighs and clawing at her ass, pulling at her jeans.

This man, this filthy excuse for a human being, had the
audacity
to touch her. To think he was
allowed
to touch her. That she would let him get away with it.

With a primal scream that most definitely came from behind the curtain, Dulcie yanked her knee up as hard and as fast as she could. It connected with the underside of his jaw and she heard his teeth clack together, felt him spit blood out as he fell backwards.

“Who the fuck do you think you are!?” she screamed at him, walking up to his side. He went to sit up and she stomped on his chest. When he fell back again, she moved to kneel over him, digging one knee into his breast bone. He groaned in protest.

“Please, baby ...”

“I am
not
your baby,” she growled through clenched teeth, then she reached out, digging her fingers into his hair and pulling. “I should fucking kill you. Fucking touching me. For even
thinking
you could touch me.
Disgusting
. Don't even look at me when I walk away.”

She slammed his head back onto the ground, eliciting another groan from him. When she stood up, she kicked him once more in the ribs, then spit in his face. He was a baser life form in comparison to her, and she wanted to make sure he knew it; make sure he
felt
it.

Her warning hadn't been strong enough, though, because when she went to walk away, he grabbed her ankle. Her leg was pulled out from underneath her and she went down fast, striking the side of her head against the rail. Her brain stepped in and out of reality.

Is this the curtain? Or is this behind the curtain? Am I real?

There were hands on her body and weight on her legs. Dulcie was aware that she was screaming, but not out of fear. It was more primal instinct. Something within her, tearing free from years of oppression. She screamed and screamed while the wind howled, and she beat her fists against the man who was crawling around on top of her.

Then a shadow moved in the darkness that surrounded them, and the hobo was ripped off her. She gasped for air and just stared as Constantine all but threw the other man across the tracks.

He didn't look at her, not even once, as he stormed after his prey. Dulcie sat up, watching while Con drove his fist into the man's face. Again and again. But it wasn't enough. While she climbed to her feet, Con grabbed the man by the hair and repeatedly slammed the back of his head into the rail line.

There was a loud growling noise and she looked around, halfway expecting to see a bear or a coyote. But it wasn't coming from the woods above her. It was coming directly across from her. It was Con, growling as he beat the absolute shit out of the hobo.

Dulcie stumbled over so she was right behind him. His growling grew to an open mouthed yell. His hands were coated in blood and he struggled to keep his grip on the hobo's hair.

Well now, let's just rip this ol' black curtain away and see what's been hiding behind it!

“He fucking touched you,” Con was gasping for air as he finally stepped back from the damage. “No one is allowed to touch you. I can't believe he fucking touched you.”

He was right. She'd thought it before – what had made the man think he could possibly be allowed to touch her, to sully her with his presence, and not pay the consequences? Didn't he know he was trespassing on private property? The sole property of one very dark boy?

Dulcie looked around her, almost manic in her movements. A couple feet away, there was a metal rod laying in a ditch, and she hurried to pick it up. It was a post for a stop sign, though the sign itself was long gone. The edges were rusty and a couple of mean looking bolts jutted out of the top.

This'll do.

She calmly walked back to the
thing
that was laying on the tracks. Con hadn't moved at all, though he still had a wild look in his eyes, and he kept staring at the man. Dulcie moved so she was next to him and looked down as well. The hobo was gurgling, spitting up blood, but still managing to laugh.

“Baby … this what … whatchu
need ...
”

With a shout, Dulcie swung the post in a wide arc. It landed smack across the man's face, driving his head harder into the rail underneath him. She could hear bone break, hear teeth crack, and it was like music to her. She swung the post again, and the man's face was unrecognizable as human. Another swing, and an arterial spray of blood shot through the moonlight. Finally, one last swing, one last primal scream, and there was a crunch. Something hard crumbling against something soft. Mr. Hobo would never be touching anything, ever again.

She realized she was panting again, and she dropped the rod. It hit the rail and sent a gonging noise echoing off into the night. Somewhere in the distance, she heard an owl scream.

“
Move him.
”

Con's voice was deep, like normal, but also slightly breathless. She didn't even ask what he meant, she just walked around and grabbed the hobo under his shoulders. Con grabbed his legs and they lifted together.

Half of the man's head stayed on the track.

While they carried the body to the ditch, she could feel his blood running over her hands. She glanced at Con and realized his hands and forearms were coated in the red substance, as well. It was dark out, and there was only a full moon for light, but for some reason, the blood was scarlet in color. Shiny and bright.

They didn't say a word. They dropped the body and Con rolled it onto its stomach. Then he grabbed her hand and began pulling her along behind him. She still didn't say anything, just jogged to keep up with his pace.

They were around the corner from where a bunch of cars were parked at the base of a hill. He didn't lead her to them, though; he pulled her in the opposite direction, through an old railroad crossing. There was rusty fencing that ran along the side of the tracks and they followed it almost all the way back to the station. His truck stood there, easily within five hundred feet of the old building. Why had he parked so far away from the trail?

Because he knew he'd be bringing me here. Because he knew we'd need privacy.

While he dug around for his keys, she stared at her reflection in the passenger window. There was a bright slash of red going across her neck, and there was blood all over her arms. She looked like the walking dead. She began wiping her hands against her clothing, getting rid of as much of the mess as she could.

“
Here.
”

There was a case of water in the bed of his truck, and he tossed her a bottle. She dumped the water over her hands, rinsing as best she could, scrubbing with the hem of her shirt. She glanced across the truck and watched as he did the same thing.