Helltown - Jeremy Bates Page 0,65
opening the door.
She pressed her body against it. “If you don’t look!”
“I told you I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” He gave up his effort to get in. “Now go on, go pee, go quick, my brother, he’ll, he’ll be back soon.”
The bathroom, Cherry observed, was no more than six feet in length by four feet in width. Hunkered into the small space was a sink marred with toothpaste gunk, a toilet with a partially unhinged seat, a shelf lined with half-used toilet paper rolls and two bars of withered soap in a shallow ceramic dish, and a medicine cabinet.
Cherry caught her reflection in the medicine cabinet’s mirrored front. Her hair was disheveled, her naturally tanned skin so pale it was almost white. Mascara streaked her cheeks like black tears. Blood smeared her mouth, as if she had just finished a strawberry pie eating competition.
She opened the medicine cabinet door, praying the hinges didn’t squeak. They didn’t. Inside she found a bottle of Aspirin, two cans of Gillette shaving cream, three toothbrushes all poking out of the same glass caked with green grime, and—thank you, Lord—a straight razor with a rust-free blade.
She snatched the razor by the wooden handle, eased the medicine cabinet closed, and lowered herself onto the toilet seat.
A moment later Earl shoved open the bathroom door and stuck his head in.
“Don’t look!” she cried.
“I’m not, I’m just checking, that’s all—”
“Get out!”
He obeyed. Cherry said another silent prayer of thanks, because although she was sitting on the toilet seat, she hadn’t lifted her skirt, or pulled down her panties.
Quickly, not trusting that Earl wasn’t going to stick his head in the bathroom again, she used the razor to saw the rope binding her ankles. In her haste she sliced the pad of her left thumb open. Blood squirted to the floor. She bit her lip but kept sawing until the last of the twine snapped apart.
She unwound the length of rope and tossed it aside. Then she unbuckled her stilettos and left them next to the discarded rope. She stood, barefoot, and flushed the toilet. She went to the door, terrified yet at the same time oddly calm. She cupped the razor with her bleeding hand.
“I’m done,” she said, opening the door.
Earl smiled down at her, no doubt in anticipation of his two kisses. The smile turned into a frown when he noticed the blood dripping off her hand.
“Hey,” he said, “what happened? A where’s the rope for your feet—”
Cherry slashed his throat with the straight razor. His eyes bloomed; he tottered backward, his hands going to the wound. She ran toward the windowless door. For a moment she was positive it wasn’t going to lead outside, it was going to open to a cellar, she would be trapped, Earl would recover, catch her, kill her—
The door handle turned easily in her hand and then she was outside. A cry of elation escaped her as she fled down the porch steps into the night, through the rain, through the mud.
Her eyes were searching for the best path to take into the forest when she spotted a wood-paneled pickup truck parked at the end of the gravel driveway.
She risked a glance behind her, didn’t see Earl, and made for the vehicle. She didn’t think she’d be lucky enough to find the keys inside it, but this wasn’t the city. She had to check.
Just as she reached the truck she heard Earl exit the house behind her. She opened the driver’s door with her bound hands. The overhead light blinked on.
A key was inserted into the ignition lock.
Cherry’s heart sang. She heaved herself up onto the bench seat and she turned the key. The engine vroomed to life. She tugged the column shifter into drive and was about to tromp the gas when Earl appeared next to the open door, one hand pressed against the bleeding tear across his throat.
Shrieking, Cherry swiveled in the seat, brought her knees to her chest, and kicked as hard as she could. Her left foot breezed past him. Her right connected with his gut. He grunted—more of a bloodied gurgle—and stumbled away.
She stepped on the gas. But Earl managed to snag her hair. The truck lurched forward; her head snapped backward. Her foot came off the pedal.
The truck jolted to a stop.
Earl tugged her head, hard, as if trying to pull her from the vehicle. Her toe, however, found the pedal. The truck shot forward. Earl released her hair but kept pace next to the door.