Hey guy! here's another update and thank you demonbarber14 for being my beta!

Warning: If you are Mormon or very religious and get very touchy don't read this chapter. It's basically the same warning I give to anyone reading Julie (which reminds me I need to get back to it sometime). You are totally free to read something else. Anyways, Enjoy!

Chapter 6

"Is there something bothering you, Zoya?" asked Ripley. Ripley's our computer that operates our RV, doing everything from driving shot gun to informing us of malfunctions. We call it Ripley because it sounds like Sigourney Weaver talking. I like that Ripley has the wheel while I sit shotgun and observe my new tattoo. The name was marked in black ink and in Rachael's hand writing. It's slightly sensitive to the touch. Running my fingers over it, it has a texture of an old scar. Scars I have a-plenty, but this is my first tattoo and every time I look or touch it I get all knotted up on the inside. Not a pleasant feeling at all unless I call him. Every horror movie I've ever seen comes to mind whenever something terrible is discovered. They usually end up dead once they summon up something or other but that usually happens to stupid people that come unprepared and I plan to be very well prepared.

"Ripley," I said. "Why weren't you able to get….the name off? It was only marked in marker before I got attacked by…whatever I was attacked by."

"I did try to get it off, Zoya but the micro-organisms only dig deeper into the skin," said Ripley. Hearing the word 'micro-organisms' I sat up straighter then I did in music class as a high school freshmen.

"Micro-organisms? You mean I have bacteria in me right now?" I asked. I'm almost in full panic mode when I remembered Rachael. She was the one who marked me. Every nerve in me became deadly quite.

"They're not any bacteria that I've known of, but I was able to get one sample before healing the rest of your wounds," said Ripley. The front window seal lit up with a picture of the thing. I tense at the sight of one of the things that permanently left Damien on my arm forever. It was reddish looking, with eight hairy legs and what looked like crab claws attached. It's as far as I can get to describe this Lovecraft horror that was before me. I stood up, open the door and looked to see what my sisters were doing.

All three of them were sitting a violet couch. Natti watched the Starving Channel on her laptop (a channel to watch other people eat). I could tell by the drool running down her mouth. She only gets like that when she's hungry. The Ring had Jazz's attention on the flat screen. The way she sat forward with her mouth open and eyes wide with fascination made her even creepier than usual. Lastly, my attention came to Rachael, sitting relaxed on the couch with The Great and Secret Show in her hand. I wanted to go over there and rip it out of her unworthy clutches. It took great effort to not slam the door.

"Are these things still in my arm?" I asked. The name was more sensitive than before. Ripley replied, "No, they actually crawled out and died after I was done healing the skin. I think their main purpose was to give you a tattoo." I sat back down in shot gun. The good news of not dying from unknown bacteria didn't give me much comfort. I wanted to know why Rachael marked me with a possibly deadly name. I planned to know once we had privacy.

"I need to recharge, Zoya."

"Ok, Ripley, where's the nearest charging station?"

"The nearest is five miles to Salt Lake City, Utah." Oh shit, we're in Mormonland!

"How low in power are you?" I asked. "I mean if you are like fifty percent low then we could make it as far as Colorado."

"I'm sorry but I'm twenty-five percent low on power. Salt Lake City is the closest I can get to a charging station and by then I'll be down to approximately three percent. Is there something wrong with Utah?"

"Yeah, it's crawling with Mormons." My stomach grumbled in agreement. All I'd had was water and Bliss and Abstinence for the past two days. Part of the wonderful diet of snuffing. I thought about taking some nutritional pills but my stomach grumbled louder for real food to the point of hurting. "Oh….when's the Monthly Feasting? I want something delicious in my mouth and down my stomach and out the other end."

"The Monthly Feasting is actually today," said Ripley. Before I could say hallelujah, she added, "Aren't you a Mormon yourself, Zoya?" I leaned back in my chair. There was a time when I felt very convinced being Mormon meant I was closer to God. All that talk of being the 'true religion' sounded very promising up until Sparky came along and the blood shedding soon after. After I moment of silence, I stood up and gave my answer.

"I was but, I found out things change when you grow up." I opened the door with a loud slam. Natti stopped drooling and closed her laptop. Jazz sat up straight with a smile. Why does she get creepier by the minute?! Rachael put the book down slowly to her lap, her eyes never leaving mine. I wonder if she knows I'm on to her.

"Sister, I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear?"

"Bad news first," said Natti.

"You always want to hear the bad news first," said Rachael. "Why don't we hear the good news for once?" This is usually typical of Natti and Rachael. They always have something to argue over and at times it can get pretty ugly. The debate had barely begun and poor creepy Jazz looks back and forth in terror.

"Shut up, I'll give the bad news," I said. I smile on the inside at Rachael's disappointment. A small appetizer for the main course for a later smackdown. "Ripley is down to twenty-five percent on power and the nearest charging station is five miles to Salt Lake City." As I expected, they all groaned at once.

"Why? For the love of God, WHY!" said Natti.

"They're weird and creepy," said creepy Jazz.

"And they're haters," said Rachael. Her voice filled with more malice then the others. "They think black people are children of Cain and being LGBT is a mental defect."

"Well their discrimination and ignorance is their fault," I said. About time I gave the good news. "At least be thankful they're not Jehovah Witnesses or Scientologists and trust me those people are crazier than Mormons. I know because I used to be one." All of them turn red in the face, Rachael was the reddest of all. I was smiling on the inside again. "What I recall from my family vacations to Salt Lake is the unbelievable numbers of restaurants and buffets, every single one of them excellent and a great spot to get free food if you're a Professional Foodie. So while on the drive we're going to make fake Foodie licenses for our Monthly Feasting!"

All three of them cheered with joy at the sound of food, Natti being the loudest. I figured this should be a great gift for her after all, she had to endure Rubick. Once the burst of cheers were over, I sat between Jazz and Natti. I put my arm around both of them. "Natti, you can put away that torture porn and Jazz, let's watch something less creepy and Rachael, how's the Show?"

"It's like a desert storm," said Rachael. "It's dry but fascinating and dangerous to watch."

The RV was parked in Smith's Station to charge for two hours, plenty of time for tasting and leftovers (even though leftovers are illegal in snuff but we'll break it once). While Ripley re-charged, we took our red stallion for a drive. Natti and Jazz sat in the back while Rachael sat by my side as always. I wanted Rachael to feel safe until I had my chance to pounce her. "That's a pretty looking church," said Jazz. She was talking about the Salt Lake Temple shining terribly white in the distance. It's like the very first thing that catches the eye of everyone that comes to Mormonland.

Natti leaned forward to get a closer look at the growing temple. "Is that were all the Mormons go to worship?"

"No," I said. "That's where you go to get married and sealed to your spouse forever. It's also a place to baptize the dead."

"You mean you dig up dead people and dunk them in holy water?" Natti asked. I laughed, both at her childish surprise and the implied Holy Water.

"No, Mormons don't do any grave robbing," I said. I still had the giggles in me. By then the Castle of God got large. It promised me that I still had a chance to go in. "They go in there, use their body as a vessel for the deceased and then get dunked in a pool of warm water."

"That sounds like possession," said Rachael. While Natti and Jazz looked on with wonder she looked on with indifference. Her elbow on the open window and head resting on her knuckles she added, "Did you have to baptize the dead?" The temple was in full view of us now. Still promising to take me to heaven. I'll admit it's a pretty piece of architecture but so are the rest of the Mormon temples around the world.

"I did for a while and no I wasn't possessed." I turned left to Milton St. where the temple started to shrink away in the rear view mirror, begging me to come back. "In fact, I felt nothing."

Finally, after we got off Milton to Food Paradise Lane. Food on every block. "Ok, sisters. Where should we dig first?" We debated over Italian, French, Chinese, Thai, Old American and yadh, yadh, yadh. The issue of eating was finally settled once we got to a local fine diner called Moroni. It wasn't my personal choice. It looked silver and mediocre and cold and I had the feeling it would be the same on the inside but we needed a place to start.

Doors open and fake Foodie license out, the hostess welcomed us with a big smile and a red booth for all of us. Rachael sat by the window while I sat next to her. I observed my surroundings for a moment. Three Belles and an Edward sat behind Natti and Jazz. The Belles yap over the wedding arrangements while Edward stared lustfully at the bar where four young Lolitas giggle over the hottest celebrity abs. Oh Mr. Humbert Mason or James Humbert, better look out for Mr. Cullen, he wants to make the nymphets sparkle! Mr. Cullen wasn't the only one eyeing the poor Lolitas. A father of five screaming children and an indifferent wife eyed with the same zeal. If there was no screaming kids, no wife, no Belles, no hungry false Foodies, the husband and the Edward would have loved to taste some Lolita. Oh how I wish we were filming.

"What would you like to drink, ladies?" asked the waitress. My groin got hot at the sight of her tight fitted rack. Sure her skin didn't show but she had intentions to show her curves. The sight of her endowment made me realize I hadn't had pussy in two years.

"I'll just have lemonade," I said. Savoring the bitter taste of reality.

"And I'll have a Limeade," said Rachael. Her voice reminded me of what I needed to do. Once Natti and Jazz ordered their drinks and waitress hooters left for the next table, I pulled Rachael over in and whispered, "We need to talk in private. Let's go to the bathroom." Rachael said a puzzled ok and off we went to the girls bathroom.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she asked as I pushed her inside the dirty, unkempt bathroom and barricaded the door with a heavy trash can.

"We're having a serious talk is what's going on," I said. I walked closer to her. I looked calm but, I was boiling on the inside. I showed her my arm. "Why did you mark me?" She didn't answer for one too-long moment. "Tell me, 'Georgie girl' why did you mark me?"

"It wasn't out of malice, Zoya," she said.

"Not out of malice," I repeat her. "Writing the name of my possible killer, then having my arm almost ripped off then discovering micro-mite things in my arm is totally not out of malice." Rachael folded her arms and looked at me like I was a bad-tempered child.

"I don't know what attacked you in Vegas but I swear the name and the Tatmites are harmless," she said. She went over to the sink and began washing her left arm with soap. "He has absolutely no intention of harming us. He loves us too much." Rachael turned off the water and took some paper towels. Her face was red and her eyes glistening. She walked toward me with her arm outstretched. She also had the faded name DAMIEN on her arm. "I only wrote the name so he could talk to you freely. Just say his name and he'll be here."

"What makes you think he loves us?"

"Because if he didn't I wouldn't be here and neither would you," she said. "Now call him. You'll be surprised by how much he listens." Her words sounded very reasonable. If Damien wanted to kill us it would have been done already or worse take us somewhere and torture us. She took a step closer to me. My wild imagination took hold for a moment and I pictured us kissing like we did in the other bathroom. Rachael taking my hand was enough to make my whole body warm all over in a very pleasant way. "We both love you very much, Zoya. Call him."

I couldn't make up my mind what to feel. I'd never been romantically loved before, lusted after maybe but not loved (family love doesn't count). I didn't know if I wanted to cry, to scream, to leap with joy or to faint from the surprise of two people being madly in love with me. I needed to respond to this somehow or else I would have explode. So out of impulse, I took her other hand.

"Ok, I'll say his name," I said. I felt so much better holding both of her elegant hands. From her look of bliss (ha…Bliss) she looked to be enjoying my hands too. "Before I do, I want to know something."

"Oh yeah," she said. She sounded day dreamy. "What's that?"

"When did you go head over heels for me?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I was scared of you at first. Have you ever seen Ichi the Killer?"

"Yeah, if Ms. Meyer was to be honest about Edward he'd be Ichi. A pussy and a creep," I said. We both laughed at the joke. We laughed almost to the point where we almost broke contact but we ended up on the floor instead. "So…so why am I being compared to Ichi?"

"Not…not Ichi. You're no Ichi. You reminded me of Kakihara. Nobody fucks with Kakihara, not even his own gang wants to get on his bad side, let alone betray him. I think if anyone did either of those things they better pray that he doesn't find them. I think we should have been called 'Number 1 Killers' instead of 'Droog'. If Alex were ever to meet Kakihara in person he'd be in a new world of hurt. Probably Alex would become his bitch or something.

"Anyway, the point is I started to fall in love with you when I found you singing Under Pressure."

"Oh my God," I said. "I sang with Mercury, you sang with Bowie. By then I just liked hanging around you because it's hard to find someone that likes classics now a days. Music is just mechanical now. Ok, let's get off this floor and call Damien."

"Hey girls," said Damien. His appearance was so sudden that I jumped up almost out of my skin. As always, he was dressed up as Alex, only this time I was totally sober and he was talking. There's only one thing that was the same. His presence made me horny.

"I thought you didn't talk when you're young, Bright Eyes," I said. Rachael grabbed my hand and I helped her up. He gave his response.

"My real name gives me permission. Plus you look great without any of the Bliss. Going through a Lynch isn't very good for your mind."

"Says the person that likes Moloko," I said. Bright Eyes pulled me closer. His face so serious and beautiful I might have melted to the floor.

"I'm only Alex because your desire wants me to be," he said. For a moment his voice sounded like a low growl from another world that deals with fire and screaming. I preferred Yorkshire over wherever that voice came from. The chill left my spine when he reverted back to normal British accent. "None of you are completely ready to see what I truly look like underneath. I think both of you never will but I am willing to show you a glimpse of what I am. I've already let Rachael see, now I want you to see Zoya."

"See what?" He took both my hands and held them to his face. So far it feels like a regular face. Nothing terrifying yet. Both of my thumbs rested underneath his eyes.

"Look into my eyes. I want you to look very closely. What do you see?" His face was close enough for a kiss. I looked into his eyes without blinking. At first I only saw crystal blue eyes. Beautiful human eyes. After a moment or two went by I thought about saying I see blue but then I saw the gold rings around the pupils. The barely visible rings burst into multiple spiked stars to form golden outer rings around the irises. Only clones can have eyes like that.

"You're a McDowell clone," I said. My body tingled in amazement. All this time I've been trying to find a clone of McDowell in Hollywood and L.A. when all that time he'd been in my Blissful daze. I repeated with giddiness, "You're a clone." I couldn't stop smiling until I thought about Rubick. He told me very firmly (almost angrily) there's no clone of McDowell. I remember his saying very clearly, "Even if there is a clone he wouldn't want to be with you. He'll leave the minute he's done with you."

Thinking about that, my heart sank to the dirty floor. My smile faded, and I removed my hands from his face. I suddenly didn't want to look nor touch him anymore. "What's wrong?" he said. I wondered if the concern is real or not. When he grabbed my hand, I took his wrist and pulled all his fingers back. He didn't scream, but he gasped in surprise. Not the exact look I wanted but close enough. Rachael was right about me being similar to Kakihara; fucking with me is a terrible idea.

"Zoya, why did you do that?" Rachael looked bewildered by my sudden attack. I put my hand on her shoulder, my insides boiling with an invisible fire.

"I don't like being used," I said. "Have you ever wondered why he leaves us after sex?" Rachael surprised me with her answer.

"Yeah, his wife will kill us if he stays the night without paying. She's his pimp."

"A wife?" I said. I looked back at Damien. His fingers cracked back to normal without a hint of pain in his hand and his face.

"Yes, I'm married but she doesn't love me anymore," he said. I was about to ask him why she was pimping him out, when a loud banging on the door got a jump scare out of all of us.

"You kids better not be having sex in there. I'm going to kick you out if you are!" I was about to remove the heavy trash when Damien stopped me. After seeing him put his fingers back to normal I was afraid of what he might do to me.

"Before you do that, I want you to confess your feelings to Rachael like you did with me." The man banged louder on the door. I turned to Rachael with my heart hammering just as loudly. I have never been comfortable talking about personal things or emotions except with Damien. Once I confessed to my mom that I was bisexual and told me I should repent for my thoughts. He's the only one that doesn't give me that judgmental look like everyone else. The man banged louder again with a threat to call the police. Damien put his hand on the door, "Go back to your work, Joe. This is personal business." Just like that, the banging stopped and he turned to me. "Go on, tell her."

"Tell me what?" Oh there looks like there's no other choice. I turned to Rachael and made my confession.

"Last summer while we were taking a break I told Bright Eyes my personal fantasies involving you." Rachael doesn't speak but she's already pink in the face. God, I'm going to sound like a hypocrite. "One of those fantasies involves me fingering you underneath a table in a fine restaurant." Already I can feel the judgement. "Sometimes I like to fantasize about you eating me out and having sex in the shower and uh…" I point over to Damien. "Do a threesome with our boyfriend." I closed my eyes for the oncoming disaster that never happened. Rachael pulled me over with a kiss just as passionate as the night before. Only this time I didn't struggle. I embraced her back with a kiss just as hungry as hers.

"I'm sorry that I made you feel bad," I said into her mouth. "I just don't want Rubick to find out."

"He won't find out. We'll keep this a secret. Even if he does, we'll kill him," said Rachael. Her bravery's got me all worked up. I suddenly wanted Rubick to find us so we could kill him and be off in the sunset. Of course, that would be a stupid thing to do. Anyone that tries to kill him end up either having their heads mounted on the wall or end up being eaten by the 'experiments'. Rachael's hand began to roam closer to my crotch when the banging came again. Only this time they were girls.

"Hurry up in there! I've got to pee!" Our lip lock broke and Damien wasn't there to drive them out. There were so many things I've wanted to ask him. Why is he married? Why is he being pimped out? Where can I find him and protect him from the bitch? Rachael removed the trash can and opened the door. Two Belles stood in the door way doing the pee-pee dance. As hard as I tried not to laugh I ended up laughing anyway.

"What's so funny?" asked Belle one. Damnation was in her eyes and I laughed harder.

"Oh nothing," I said. I took Rachael's hand (so daring) and walked around the Holier then thou Belles "I just think you should keep an eye on Edward Ichi Humbert. I would hate to see Lolita sparkle and slaughtered." By then we left the bathroom and rejoined Natti and Jazz at the booth. I made our order to go. The idea of eating around Belles repulses me.

It took three restaurants to build up the courage to perform one of my fantasies. The restaurant we were in was French with low lighting and white long linen table clothes. A perfect hiding place to do dirty deeds. As always, Rachael sat next to me. Once the hostess left us alone I put my hand on her leg and slowly went up to the heat of her crotch. "So how's your endometriosis?

"It's actually better now," said Rachael. She helped me slip inside her jeans. Her panties were wet to the touch. "Much, much better now. I'm sorry that I acted up earlier."

"It's alright. My sister has the same problem," I said. Rachael got a little tense as I stroked her oh so thin panties up and down while the waiter got our drinks. I ordered a coke with cherry while I dove underneath to feel her red velvet.

"Oh…I would like to have the same thing," said Rachael. I admired how well she was keeping her cool. While Natti and Jazz debated over which appetizer to share, I was enjoying my dessert

"Have you ever seen Blue Velvet, Rachael?" I asked. She got hotter by the minute and very close to losing it. Clever girl pretended to look at the menu by holding it to her face.

"Yeah…I've seen it…..always avoid crazy men in….oxygen masks…and….never sing Blue Velvet."

"Are we ready to order?" asked the waiter.

Almost half jumping out of her seat, she shouts, "Oh God!" and presses my hand so hard to her groin that I can feel her heart beat. For a moment I was panicking as everyone watches us with startled eyes, including Natti and Jazz. Luckily Rachael was able to save us.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid my endometriosis is acting up again." Slowly I took my hand out of her pants and wiped the evidence on the linen. "I would like to have champagne with my soda and a filet minion. What about you, dear?" She took the hand I pleased her with. The restaurant decided to play Blue Velvet.

"I'll have what she's having."

Two hours passed and Ripley was ready to go. Our fridge was stuffed with enough food for the trip to Kansas and we were more than happy to sleep it off. On the drive while Natti and Jazz were asleep, Rachael laid beside me returning the favor but oh so carefully but oh so well. Through clenched teeth, the fireworks exploded in my head. Rachael and I spooned and whispered in my hair "I love you, Zoya." I take her hand whisper the same words to her palm. "I love you, Rachael." And I really did mean it.