Hey guys! Sorry I took so long. Got a whole lot of homework.
Thanks a million to my beta demonbarber14!
Chapter 7
Ripley stopped at Kanardo Station which is on the border between Colorado and Kansas. While Natti and Jazz were getting dressed, I on the other hand planned to get undressed. Rachael indicated that she shared the same idea by fondling my breasts under the blankets, until Natti killed the mood with her loud stomping. "Ripley's recharging, are you guys going to get dressed?"
"I'm tired, Natti," I said.
"Yeah, we're very tired," said Rachael. "The mountains are pretty in Colorado." She went back to fondling my mountains. My mood came back again. Natti mumbled something to Jazz and were out the door to do whatever. When the door closed at last I rolled on top of Rachael and we sucked into liplock like our lives depended on it. In seconds our clothes went flying, I've seen Rachael naked before but for some strange reason she's different this time.
I'd always thought of her bony to the point of being malnourished, and flat as a boy. Turns out she's more athletically built than I had imagined, and her breasts leaned more toward a size B then an A. I can actually see her more in a gymnasium than a cat walk. Rachael guides my right hand to her breast and the left between her legs; she feels so eager. "Make love to me," she says. I can feel her heart beat with anticipation and I can't help but grin.
"Oh Rachael," I said. "Where were you at the Belle Academy? Of all the Belle's I've taught you would've been my favorite."
"Really," she said. "What exactly did you teach, my lovely Zoya?"
"Well, my lovely Rachael, I always took the ones curious about sex to the basement of my old church. I would get them naked and let them lie down on the couch or the floor. Once I got them hot and bothered, I would insert my two fingers in like this." I slide my fingers inside her pussy. She made a small gasp at my pleasant invasion. While my fingers instructed for her G-spot to come hither, I went on telling my story. "Of course, this is just a warm up. Often they would lose their innocent minds once I'd done this." I grazed my thumb against her clit and her head went back in a gasp. Her hands begin to dig at my skin as I made her need more unbearable. Something clicks on and drops to the floor but I didn't bother to check where the talking came from. I'm too far into my teaching to go back now. "Right now it's hot outside but later on it's going be a severe thunderstorm with some heavy rain!"
"What….what if they….were faking?" I give a little kiss to her lips then trail down her neck with these words.
"If they were faking, I would simply do this." I give her a little bite on the neck, barely enough to leave a mark but enough to make her scream a little. "If that didn't work, then I would have to do this." My mouth goes to her left nipple, biting and licking away gently while my hand pinches the right. My sweet tortures brings Rachael towards delirium.
"Oh, Zoya…" says Rachael. She doesn't need to say the rest. I insert the rest of my fingers inside her and let my palm work her clit. In seconds she holds me tight to her body while her warmth floods my hand and fills my mouth with satisfaction. Breathily, she gasps, "You're such a wonderful lover and teacher."
"In other news, the artist Andrea has struck again in Las Vegas yesterday to give us another masterpiece." I sit up straight at the words "Las Vegas". I suddenly go cold at the photo of a younger me graffitied on a wall next to my former suite. I thought I had made it up somehow in my pain-filled deluded head. The newsman continues, "This time it's of the famous survivor, Zoya Lovejoy as an adolescent. Zoya Lovejoy survived the notorious Wichita Dahlia killer took about fifteen or more innocent lives and remains at large. Clearly there is some kind of meaning to this since the art is right next to our notorious snuff star, Alexis. Both are symbols to eliminating crime and spying invaders. The door and the wall will be removed to be taken to a museum."
"So that girl is you, isn't it?" asks Rachael. Her head leans against my chest while I run my fingers through her soft hair. This Andrea person is clearly bad news. I need to kill her before she gives me away. That piece of art already exposed enough to make me uncomfortable.
"Yes, that's me at twelve," I explain. "It was a time of change for me and not in a good way."
"What exactly happened?" I am about to tell her the terrible times when Ripley interrupted.
"I suggest you girls get dressed. Your sisters are coming back."
"Shit!" We say in unison. We quickly pick up our explosion of clothes, and then dumped them in our laundry basket and into the small bathroom. I push Rachael into the shower and turn it on. I wait for Natti or Jazz to knock and interrogate us. It's not uncommon for sisters to betray one another, especially their leaders. My body becomes less rigid after a moment or two goes by. "Oh that was close," I sigh. Rachael nods in agreement and we both got out of the shower. We almost hugged when Ripley stops us in mid-embrace with a warning.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Ripley. This is the first time she's been stern with us.
"But why?" I ask.
"That exercise you two did on the couch I will let slide but if you ever get intimate again I'll have to report you to Rubick. Natti and Jazz will be kept in the dark unless this happens again. This is not personal, it's only for your protection. Remember, his eyes are everywhere." I know she means every word and I step back from Rachael. She looks just as sad as I am. After we clean off and get dressed, Rachael and I spend the rest of the ride separate and lonely.
We came to a rough start arriving in Wichita. It all started when we checked into the Catherine Hotel of the East Side of town. Rachael was by my side as always but none of the good feelings were there. We were so silent that the background noises were louder than usual. The writing of the pen sounded sharper, the scratch of the static T.V. scratchier and strangely the whispering voices in the lobby could be heard a mile away.
The loud noises in the lobby were bad but, the elevator was worse, especially with the monotone music. Rachael and I finally broke our deafening silence when she brushed her hand against mine. It was an innocent gesture and probably an accident but it was enough to set me off. I slapped her hand away and said the most terrible words I so wish I could take back. "Get your hands off of me, you dyke!"
Suddenly the air in the elevator was sucked out along with the monotone sound. Natti and Jazz had their backs against the walls, bracing for the oncoming storm. Rachael curled back her lips and her eyes looked strangely darker. She snarled, "You bitch!" and shoved me against the wall. Her fist was ready to meet my face when Natti pulled her away from me. Even though Rachael was contained the hate in her eyes continued stabbing me in the heart. I didn't mean to be cruel but it was necessary in order to keep both of us alive.
Being hated is one thing but being hated by a loved one is another. For four hours I laid in bed staring at the ceiling with the T.V. on, debating what should be done. I knew Rachael wasn't going to knock on my door. If someone called me a dyke I wouldn't knock on their door either. I knew that going to her for an apology would be useless and that she would only slam the door in my face, if she even opened it at all. A commercial promised something about relationship advice before I turned it off. Since Rachael and I didn't want to talk I thought I might as well talk to Damien, knowing that he would understand me.
I sat up straight, closed my eyes and called his name, "Damien." One minute, two minutes, I opened my eyes. He wasn't there. I crossed my legs thinking he would be here in a moment. After five minutes went by, I was pacing and wringing my hands. "Maybe I wasn't loud enough. I'll call him again."
I said his name again, this time louder, "Damien." He still wasn't there. My insides began to knot, my eyes watering from the pain. I thought that maybe he was mad at me for calling Rachael a dyke and didn't want to talk to me either or that Bliss got to me and I'm losing my mind. I called his name one more time, but this time I yelled it out, "DAMIEN!" His name ringed in my ears but he still wasn't there. Real or not, he abandoned me.
My knees failed me and I went to the floor. My eyes felt like watery acid. I dreaded to hear my thoughts out loud but it had to be said through harsh whisper, "He abandoned me." Rachael, I could almost deal with losing. Women come and go all the time but losing Damien would be like losing the ability to breathe. For reasons I couldn't explain, he reminded me of a certain Someone I've known but for some reason couldn't remember.
I said a little louder, "He abandoned me." Tears fell from my eyes but I'm burning with rage. Slowly I stood up with my nails digging into my palms. Suddenly my burning turned into a blazing fire. "He abandoned me!" At that moment nothing was safe and I mean nothing. I made the T.V. plunge to its death onto the floor. The tacky pictures on the walls were ripped to shreds and my luggage went flying, clothes and all. The worst to get it was the bed. Grabbing a knife discarded among the clothes and make-up I stripped the bed bare. I showed it no mercy. I have no idea how many times I stabbed it but there were certainly enough holes in the memory foam to see though the other side. This was enough to calm me but not to sooth my blood thirsty soul.
I need to kill somebody, right now.
"Feeling right at home, Zoya," asked Rubick
"Yeah, feeling right at home," I said. I leaned my back against the wall and slid down to the floor. "Mr. Rubick?"
"Please, you can call me Stan."
"Stan….I want you to do something for me."
"Anything Zoya," he said. He almost sounded desperate to please me. "Anything you like."
"I want kill somebody and I want to do it my way."
There was a pause, then Rubick responded, "I think you're overworked, sweetheart. How about I come over and take you out to dinner, as business partners of course." Suddenly I cringed at the idea, especially considering what Rachael told me. The image of Mr. Rubick putting his hand under my dress while eating steak almost made me want to puke.
"Uhh…no thanks, not hungry but back to my point. I want to kill somebody my way. This is my hometown and I must welcome it with open arms."
"That is not a good idea to do that, Zoya. There's already trouble in Vegas we're trying to clean up." He definitely had a point there. A famous artist graffittied little me next to my former suite and Steele blood was everywhere in the sex dungeon. Still, I needed some type of release. That was when an idea formed in my head.
"This will be a good way to get Wichita excited for the innocent survivor Zoya and Our Glorious Heroine Alexis. With the 'serial killers' back at large, they'll be looking to us for protection and admiration. So if you let me Ru- I mean, Stan." As I said his name I made myself look innocent and seductive as possible. Rubick might not be here physically but his eyes are everywhere. Already I'm get a vivid image of him holding his crotch. "I want you to hire a Steele girl and tie her up in the Woods of Goddard. I want her to hang there for a little while so that the terror builds once I'm on the road. And once I've done my business with her, I'm going to fix her up and dump her in the river. So would you let me?" After a painful long pause he gave his answer.
"I'll let you do this only once and that's all. A Steele will be waiting in the Woods for you at seven."
Wichita is like a three layer cake. The East Side is Business Central yet it's infested with crime. I'm sure East will be happy to have us film to exterminate. Downtown or Little New York of Kansas almost mirrors the East side with a slight difference. The only business you can get Downtown is Lolitaing, prostitution, and minimum wage of the unfavorable kind. Want anything decent Downtown, be part of the weekly propaganda parades. Lastly, there's the West Side or Family Nirvana. If anyone wants to start a family or have a simple stroll in the park without getting robbed, the West is a perfect place. All this can be experienced on Construction Highway Kellogg where there's always a cone somewhere.
Driving carefully the landmine of cones I look out at Downtown. For a place that looks like New York City you would expect it to be more glamourous yet it looks dirty. I think once upon a time before New America it was a great place to go at night, with multiple theaters and concert halls. Now it's only good to celebrate the parades. I look back at the road to drive a little further before I have to stop then turn to look outside again. Instead of seeing the skyscrapers, I happen to gaze upon Damien Bright Eyes himself smiling. For an angelically handsome thing, he makes me scream and punch him in the face. As I am going for my cane in the back seat, he grabs my wrist.
"What are you doing? Don't you remember calling me, Zoya?" It takes me a second to realize what he's talking about. I brush his hand of hurriedly and look toward the road. I still can't move and look toward Damien. I still have the burn from earlier.
"Why didn't you appear? You didn't have a problem appearing back in Mormonland." A car behind me honks to move forward and I move only by a foot. I turn back to Damien waiting for an explanation. I destroyed my suite so he better tell me. After a pause he tells me.
"I was with Rachael."
"Oh, so you have a favorite!"
"Don't get smart with me, Zoya," he said. God, he sounds like a dad. "Rachael is upset with you and so am I. Why did you call her a dyke?" I don't want to answer this. I look to the road again and move forward. It's so uncomfortably hot in this car and it's autumn. When the car stops he asks again. "Well Zoya, I'm waiting." Traffic in Downtown is jammed to point of barely moving at all. Knowing this is going to take a while I lean back in my seat, preparing myself for a very bitter talk.
"I had to do it."
"That's not an excuse and you know it." He is totally right about that one. I could have told her to stop being intimate with me but realistically that wouldn't have worked. So I tell him about the incident in Kanardo and Ripley's warning.
"I haven't really worried about it before," I say. "I obeyed the rules even when I didn't agree with him. Kill someone my way and not R's I'd get a mere slap on the wrist but to be intimate with a co-star is a whole different matter. There's an old saying in SERTV, Love is Death. Hate is Life. Call me selfish but I would rather live in hate then die in love." Words out of my mouth I realize how morbid that last sentence sounded. I wonder if I actually died in the chair and I'm living in Hell. No normal person should live like this and Damien confirmed my thoughts.
"That's a terrible way to live. Don't you feel tired of this way of living?" I turn my head with very watery eyes.
"Yes….but what choice do I have? It was either this life or the chair. Are you suggesting I kill myself?"
"Believe me, if I wanted you to off yourself I would have made you do it long ago. However, I have no interest in harming you. Why don't you come with me?" A car honks behind me to move forward and I almost crash into someone's bumper. I can't help but think about the voice under that Yorkshire accent. There was nothing human about that voice.
"I can't," I say. Quickly, I give him my answer. "I'm already in the frying pan with Rubick, I don't want to be in the fire with you and whatever Hell you came from. I know you're a clone but you're more than that, aren't you?" For a long while he didn't answer. It looked like he was debating weather or not he wanted to tell me. The construction started to lessen once we entered the West Side. Just when I think he won't answer me in a thousand years, he murmurs, "I'm a Ceno."
"A what?"
He takes a breath and repeats his confession. "I'm a Ceno. The correct word is Cenobite but we prefer Ceno or Cen. Saying the whole word sounds like a computer chip." It takes me a minute to process what he just said. Suddenly I get this image of Chatterer in a Derby hat going click, click, click with his teeth. That image should be scary but for me it was hilarious.
Laughing like an idiot, I say, "You…you mean…to tell me….you're like Pinhead?" His serious face gets me to stop giggling. Oh shit, I might have screwed myself over. My hands shake at the thought of being dragged out of my car and into God knows where and be tortured forever.
"I'm nothing like Pinhead, darling. Wouldn't be caught dead with those needles on my face and he's got a stick too far up his ass to have fun. Probably that stick makes his face stoic all the time." A smile creeps into my face and snort out a laugh. He continues to joke. "In fact, when I go over in his realm of existence I always tepe his head and he goes, 'who the fuck keeps throwing toilet paper? I swear you're going to be sorry once I find you.'." I'm laughing to the point of loosing breath. Imagining Pinhead wrapped like a mummy just made me laugh harder.
We were closing in on the woods and all went serious. Before I enter Goddard, he asks again, "Will you come with me?" I'm now in the woods. The road is unbelievably bumpy. I really want to leave the business but, I don't want to end up like Frank Cotton either. The road ends and I come to a stop. I sit there debating for a few moments what I should do.
"Can I make a bargain with you, Damien?"
"Go on, what's you're offer?" My heart beats loud in my ears. I am screaming on the inside; I'm going to regret it but I go on with my deal.
"I will go with you under certain conditions," I say. I wait for him to reply, but all is silent. I continue, "One, you need to stay with me for a week. During that week, you need to show a little part of yourself and I mean your real self. I don't care how scary you are, I need to know what I'm dealing with. Second, before you take me anywhere I want to say….good bye to Rachael." I pause to gather myself. "Then lastly, I want you to, I guess, open up my memory because for some reason I can't remember much of my childhood." The car remains silent; it is almost coming to seven.
"I'll stay with you for a week but you have to pay me," he says. I watch him point to my bag in the back. "By giving me the stuffed tiger." Suddenly, an invisible stone drops down my stomach. I started shaking my head furiously.
"I can't give you that. He's been with me before…."
"Before your friend left you without saying a word." I don't want to speak. If I speak I'm going to cry and I wish he'll stop talking but I know he won't. He pulls me closer to a hug. "I know Tiger is your number one choice of comfort when things get at its worse but he's not the same as your friend." Yep, now I'm into full blown crying mode. I hold unto Damien tightly while he sooths my hair.
"He's the reason why I have to be cruel because if I show affection they'll leave me. I'd rather hurt them first then the other way around."
"So that's the real reason why you take lives," he says. The way he says it sounds very matter of fact rather than chastising. I actually begin to calm myself from his lack of judgment upon me. I pull away, drying my eyes then take the bag from the back seat. I take out a worn out stuffed tiger, hug Tiger one last time, and gave it to him. With quick hand movements the tiger disappears. The deal was done.
Before we get out, he says, "Once we get out of this car you must tell me one of your fantasies. It's one of my conditions to you." Happy to oblige, we go into the woods holding hands and I speak my dirty mind.