They fled back the way they had come, not stopping until they reached level 5 of the parking garage, and Martin's white truck.
Sweating and out of breath, Jeff clutched the edge of the cargo bed and blurted, "I shouldn't have come with you. All I've done is put you in danger."
"Jeff—"
"It's not like I have anything to offer. I'm a terrible person. I deserve everything that's come to me. You two should have saved yourselves and left me there."
Evelyn frowned. "Don't beat yourself up over it."
"I mean it! I don't deserve to have anyone lay down their life for me—no one should suffer in my place for what I've done." He looked up into her pitying face, and his frustration only grew. "I was supposed to be held accountable!"
To his surprise, her sigh was one of annoyance. "If you want me to leave you alone, fine. I can make it to Christoper's on my own. I don't need you."
Jeff didn't believe she was serious until she started walking away from him.
"Wait! Are you crazy? You can't go alone, it's dangerous!"
She looked back. "Then why have you been trying to push me away?"
"I'm sorry, Evelyn," he said. "I won't do it again."
Her eyes narrowed in anger, but there was a quiver to her voice that betrayed something sadder.
"I can tell when you're being insincere. You start talking like one of your letters."
"What were you expecting?" he snapped. "You were writing to a serial killer!"
"I don't know! I was stupid—I wanted to save you—"
She tried to say more, but her voice cracked and her eyes welled up with tears. Jeff stared at her, not knowing how to react. He didn't dare try to comfort her, and wouldn't really have known how to anyway.
Embarrassment overtook her; she quickly wiped her tears on her sleeves and turned away from him. "You're good at making it seem like you care. But you're only looking out for yourself. If it's just you and me, I'm better off alone."
"Please don't go." He could put just enough pleading desperation into his voice to get his way. But that was useless when everyone knew he was a liar—and besides, he truly was afraid of being left alone.
Evelyn ignored him and broke into a run. Taking up the chase, he managed to follow her down the long flight of stairs and out into the streets before he lost sight of her.
He reached a crossroads, skidded to a halt, and realized he had no idea which way she had gone. Turning to a woman who was passing him by on the sidewalk, he started to ask "Excuse me—"
She startled as if shaken from a trance, looked him in the eye, and recoiled. For a moment Jeff was left bewildered, then she pointed a finger at him and screamed, "Jeffrey Dahmer!"
He staggered away from her. The woman kept screaming, jabbing her finger at him.
More people were stopping to point and stare. One man walked up to Jeff, who stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, and snatched away his glasses.
"Give those back!" Jeff cried, reaching toward the man. But he backed away into the crowd, his face blurring together with the others.
They were beginning to surround him, penning him in. He looked around, half-blind, for an exit. There was an alleyway behind him. He rushed toward it, feeling the press of bodies as the crowd guessed his move, fingers clawing at him, tearing at his clothes, his hair, his skin—
But no one followed him in. He staggered, feeling along the brick walls, which seemed to grow narrower the deeper he went.
At last he emerged in an open area. There was a building on his left, so long he couldn't see the end of it, and to his right he could see a chain link fence blocking off a site that was under construction. Squinting, he could only make out vague shapes that could have been mounds of dirt. Evidently, they were just getting started.
He heard a muffled noise from somewhere beyond the fence. "Evelyn?" he called, afraid to raise his voice. The silence was eerie, the darkness foreboding, and his nearsightedness left him vulnerable.
Footsteps came up behind him. He whirled around. A figure appeared in the mouth of the passage from which he had come. His heart began to pound as soon as he saw their face.
"Hey," the jogger greeted. "You okay?"
"My... my glasses," Jeff stammered. The jogger was standing far enough away that he shouldn't have been able to see his face so clearly. He was clinging to inconsistencies, and his sanity.
"What happened to your glasses?"
"They took them."
"Who?"
"The people."
The jogger laughed. It was a pleasant sound, almost too pleasant.
"They didn't hurt you, did they?"
"Tried to," Jeff's voice sounded small and weak. He cleared his throat. "But I got away."
"Good." The jogger took a step closer. "What's your name?"
His eyes were green. Jeff couldn't remember what color the jogger's eyes had been—probably had never seen his face close enough anyway. How many times had he imagined this man unconscious or dead on his bed, fantasized about caressing and possessing him, plotted to bash his head in with a baseball bat?
He looked away before mumbling, "Jeff."
"My name's Scott." Another step closer. "Are you lost?"
Jeff glanced up sharply, suspicious of his motives, the circumstances, everything. But "Scott" was placid, passive, and unwittingly beguiling.
"I'm looking for someone. We got split up." Jeff floundered, embarrassed. "I don't know where she went."
"Was she wearing white?"
"Huh? How did you—"
Scott pointed. There was a torn strip of white fabric caught on the bottom of the fence, where the dirt had been dug away to create a pocket large enough to squeeze through. It had almost certainly come from Evelyn's dress. But why had she gone through here?
Grateful for an excuse to get away from Scott, Jeff crawled under the fence. Sharp edges dug into his back, and he heard something catch and tear. He clambered to his feet on the other side, cast around in the dark for some sign of Evelyn—and jumped when he felt hands on his back.
"Your shirt is ripped," Scott said. He had followed him over.
Jeff shrugged him off. "Don't you have some place to be?"
"I'm here for you."
A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach made Jeff more wary than ever. "What if I tell you to leave me alone?"
"That's not what you really want."
"Oh yeah?" He'd meant to sound tough and defiant, but it came out soft, almost provocative. "How do you know what I want?"
"Because I am what you want," Scott replied, holding out his hand.
Jeff started to turn away from him, but Scott pulled him in, laying his head against his chest. His heart beat steadily, soothingly. He was alive.
"Let go of me," Jeff whispered. He could feel Scott's muscles, the strength of his grip, the warmth that emanated from within.
"Admit it. You don't want me to." He kissed the top of Jeff's head. "This is all you ever wanted. Only now, at the end, do you understand..."
Jeff heard another noise, much closer than before, and in clear distress. He squirmed out of Scott's grip and called "Evelyn?"
"She's been here waiting for you all along," Scott grumbled. His voice had changed. "Ah, well. I guess you made your choice."
Jeff felt a shiver go down his spine. "What choice?" he asked, turning around.
"Scott" was gone. Jeff suspected he'd never been there to begin with. In his place stood Jim, who offered only a smirk in response to the question.
"Oh God," Jeff whispered. "I'm having another nightmare."
Jim kicked a rock before replying—in a perfect imitation of Lionel's voice—"When did it ever end, Jeff?"
"What the hell are you?"
"Are you going to go to her or not?" Jim snapped.
"I can't see. You have to show her to me."
Jim snorted. "She's right in front of you."
Jeff started forward—and nearly tripped over Evelyn.
Jim was there to pull him back, but Jeff saw everything. Dark figures crouched around her, holding her down, covering her mouth. They had ripped her white dress straight down the middle.
"You've guessed a little bit about the sport we're playing, I'm sure," Jim said, his hands on Jeff's arms. "Well, here's another game." He pressed his lips to Jeff's ear. "I want, very badly, more than anything, to see you in action. So do me a favor and rape this woman."
Jeff looked at him as if he were crazy. "I can't."
"Oh, you can. I know you can. Because if you don't, they get her," he pointed to the shadowy figures, "and I get you. Do you see what I'm saying, Jeff?"
Jeff shook his head. "Why?"
"You don't have to understand why. You just have to follow the rules. And don't give me that dead-men-tell-no-tales crap. You know it matters."
"We can't die again, but we can suffer," Jeff murmured. "That's why I've got to care."
"More or less."
Jim nodded to one of the figures. The black-clad hand covering Evelyn's mouth came away, and the silence was pierced by her sobbing.
Jeff clenched his teeth. "I can't do it," he insisted. "I'm not interested in—in women. The whole setup, it's not fair!"
"Would you rather both be raped?"
The lesser of two evils. Maybe he could fake it—no, Evelyn would have to play along, and he doubted she could pull it off. The lesser evil. So long as he was gentle...
Jeff covered his face with his hands. He couldn't block out Evelyn's weeping.
"I don't have all day, Jeff. What's it going to be?"
"I'll do it," he blurted. "Just make them let her go."
To his surprise, Jim gestured and the shadow men released her. But she didn't try to get up or get away. Instead, trying to regain some control over her composure, Evelyn choked out her husband's name.
"Don't even think about him. He's very far away, this is the here and now. And Jeff—" Jim forced Jeff to his knees. "This is the answer to your prayers. This is your savior, your messiah—"
He reached around, and Jeff saw a glint of metal in his hand. Evelyn only gasped when he plunged the small sharp blade into her stomach, unable to scream.
"You said you wouldn't hurt her if I—"
"And none of your other victims ever suffered!" Jim laughed. "Give me a break, Jeff. I'm just trying to get you in the mood!"
Other victims. Jeff stared at the red line Jim tore through her gut. Yes, he was beginning to guess the nature of this game.
"What are you, the devil?"
"You've been watching too many horror movies," Jim replied. Then, with a childish grin, he reached inside the gash, pulled out a bloody mass, and flung it in Jeff's face.
Warm wetness struck him square in the mouth. It splattered on contact, trickling down his chin and neck, staining his shirt red. He was almost too stunned to react, even as he tasted the bitterness of blood. But what got him was Evelyn, whose face was contorted in open-mouthed horror, her eyes glazed and glassy with agony.
Jeff tried to wipe the gore from his mouth, but only succeeded in smearing it. He had to put an end to this, and quickly—
"Forgetting something?" Jim tugged on Jeff's belt.
Awkwardly Jeff undid his jeans and pulled them down just enough. He crawled on top of Evelyn, taking care not to crush her, deliberately avoiding the gaping wound. She was trembling violently, almost seizing, but she didn't try to fight him off. She just closed her eyes and braced herself.
He told himself that he couldn't do it, that it was too monstrous even for him, that it wasn't his style, and she wasn't his type. But he knew that was a lie. It was her or him, and he was nothing if not self-preserving. He might even enjoy it, in some obscure, sick way.
And Evelyn...
"Evie?" Jeff whispered.
She didn't speak, but he saw her lip quiver. A faint glint shone on either side of her face, tears trailing from the corners of her eyes. The surface of her skin was cold, colorless, waxy, where her insides had been warm.
"You're wasting time," Jim warned.
He lowered his voice so that it was barely audible. "I'm... I'm not going to do it."
Evelyn opened her eyes, confused and frightened. Jeff rested his head on her chest, hiding his face from her.
Jim leaned forward. "Time's up." When Jeff didn't move, he frowned. "Oh, I see how it is. You're going to sacrifice yourself. How commendable. But it's not going to make it any easier for you."
He slid a hand under Jeff's shirt. Evelyn felt Jeff's fist clench around the frayed edge of her ripped dress, bracing himself. Desperately she fumbled around in the dirt, and miraculously, her hand closed around a fair-sized rock. Swinging her fist, she brought the blow to bear against Jim's temple.
Jim jerked and fell on his side, howling. Blood as black as motor oil trickled from his split brow.
Jeff sat up, expecting the shadowy henchmen to return. But there was no sign of them—the site was deserted.
Jim hissed in pain, clutching at his head. Sensing Jeff's eyes upon him, he raised his gaze and growled, "Never say you didn't want it!"
Before he could ask what he meant, Jim vanished like a mirage. No puff of smoke, no dissolving to dust or crumbling to ashes—he was simply gone.
Jeff was so awash in confused relief, he didn't notice Evelyn until she started hitting his chest and shoulders.
"You idiot! What the hell were you thinking!" Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, sobbing. "I love you too!"
