VISITATION Part I By Torrent (I) The Visitor floated in the wind, a tangle of microscopic filaments enveloped in a force field. Invisible. Alien. Searching for a life form more complex than the airborne pollens, spores and insects it had so far encountered on this blue and watery planet. Even these forms weren't much in evidence at the moment, since a cloudburst a few minutes earlier had cleared the air. But luck was approaching in the form of a red-tail hawk, heading into the wind that carried the Visitor. When the hawk was a few feet below it, the Visitor detected it and struck. The capture was so quick the hawk felt nothing but an unfamiliar disturbance in the air. Then its wings went limp, and it began tumbling out of the sky. Inside its body, the Visitor examined its nervous system with swift efficiency. All of the hawk's brain functions were scanned. Its autonomic systems were restarted. Memories and skills the hawk had acquired over the three years since it had hatched became accessible in seconds to the new being that controlled its body. Two hundred feet from the hard surface of the highway it had been flying over, the hawk reopened its wings, caught the uprushing air and turned its vertical fall into a sharp curve that brought its course parallel to the ground. The Visitor was pleased. The hawk was not an especially intelligent life form, but it was superbly built for navigating the thick, moist atmosphere of this planet. The Visitor had passed through thousands of hosts on hundreds of planets, but none had been quite so quick and responsive in a gaseous environment. An excellent choice, it thought to itself, as it regained altitude and used the hawk's highly efficient long-distance vision to scan the landscape below. *** It didn't take the Visitor long to recognize that the shiny metallic creatures that sped along the ribbons of smooth, hard material were mechanical vehicles, and that the clumsy, two-legged animals that occasionally entered or emerged from them were the masters -- much as the Visitor was master of the hawk. Clearly, if it were to get the full flavor of this planet, and live up to its obligations to the Supreme Dispatcher, the Visitor would have to invade and occupy at least a few of these Two-Legs. The experience, however, could hardly be any more exhilarating than flight aboard this magnificent winged creature. Through the hawk's eyes, the Visitor spotted a vehicle on the edge of the hard-surfaced ribbon. It was smaller than the others the Visitor had seen, and a white gas poured from it. Its Two-Leg was moving back and forth in obvious agitation, not at all like a master. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. The Visitor guided the hawk into a steep dive. *** Elsie was as steaming hot as the engine of her restored 1962 MGB. The goddamn car had been nothing but trouble since she bought it. From a friend. Some fucking friend. And some fucking British engineering. No wonder they lost a fucking empire. She looked both ways on the highway. A car approached from the east but turned onto a side road a hundred yards before reaching her. To the west she could see something coming. A pickup truck? Yes, an orange pickup. The hawk hit her full force on the side of her head. She hadn't seen it coming, and the impact stunned her. She felt a sharp pain in her left temple, then everything went blank and she slumped to the rain-slicked ground beside her overheated car. *** Irv saw the whole thing. He was behind the wheel of the pickup, and he jabbed his sleeping buddy, hit the brakes, and yelled, "Get a load of this!" As the truck skidded to a stop, Loopy awakened to see a dark-haired young woman lying on the roadside, directly in front of them, next to a steaming sports car. A large bird was running awkwardly away from her, trying to get airborne. Finally it did, and the clumsiness disappeared as it rose on powerful strokes. Irv cut the engine and jumped out. Loopy joined him, bending over the young woman. Two more men, Joe Joe and Carlos, leaped from the truck bed, cursing. "Man, first we get drenched, then you fucking nearly kill us," Joe Joe yelled at Irv. Then he fell silent as he saw the woman on the ground. "Jesus," he said, "what a nice pair of tits." Now all four of them stood over the fallen woman. She did, indeed, have very nice breasts, which filled her wet tank top. Nice legs, too, tanned and slender. The tan contrasted nicely with her pale blue shorts. "What happened to her?" Joe Joe asked. "She was running around next to her car," said Irv. "Then this hawk or buzzard or something dive-bombed her. Just came out of the blue and ran into her head. Look, you can see the cut there. It's bleeding." Loopy knelt on one knee and put his big, meaty hand on her left breast. "Nice," he said, "nice and soft." He gave it a squeeze. "What are we going to do with her?" Joe Joe asked. "Well, I guess if we were gentlemen, we'd rescue her," said Loopy. "But we're not gentlemen, so I guess we'll take her someplace quiet and secluded and fuck her brains out." "Or something rougher," said Carlos with a crooked grin. "What could be rougher than having your brains fucked out?" Loopy asked in exasperation. He was getting sick of having Carlos around. "We've got company," Irv said, with a nod at the woman. Her eyes were open and she looked up at them with a puzzled expression. They were big brown eyes. For the first time, they noticed that her face was very pretty. She sat up, rubbed her head, then looked at the blood on her fingertips. She tasted it, tentatively. "You okay?" Irv asked. She answered his question with a question: "Have you a thermometer?" The men looked at one another. "A thermometer?" said Loopy. "What do you want a thermometer for?" She frowned. Inside, the Visitor was racing to master her vocabulary. Language was always a tricky business. For all their similarities, intelligent beings were maddeningly idiosyncratic when it came to language -- even if they lived on the same planet. "Thermostat," Elsie said. "Do you have a thermostat?" "No, honey," said Loopy. "We don't carry thermostats with us, especially for funny little foreign sports cars. But I've got something even better than a thermostat, and I'd be happy to show it to you. Let's get you into the truck." She reached up and he took her hand and lifted her effortlessly. Joe Joe whistled softly. She had a spectacular body. "Here, let me wipe off the blood," he said. He pulled out a dirty handkerchief and softly brushed the side of her head. "Thank you," she said. "I feel like...." She paused, searching for the right words. "Like Blanche Dubois. You know, the kindness of strangers." "I don't get it," Joe Joe said, turning to Loopy and Irv for help. "Search me," Loopy said. "She talks funny. Must be because of the bump on the head." He opened the passenger side door of the truck and gestured for her to get in. An alarm bell went off in what remained of Elsie's consciousness, but the Visitor ignored it. These Two-Legs were no threat, at least not to the Visitor. As for Elsie -- well, what happened to her body was not the Visitor's concern. Hosts were easy to find. *** Elsie was wedged between Irv, who drove, and Loopy, who put his big arm around her shoulders and talked about how good looking she was and how lucky it was for all concerned that they happened by when she needed a lift. Then he straightened out his body as best he could in the cramped cab of the truck and zipped open the fly of his jeans. He pulled out a very large penis, one that, had Elsie been conscious and in control of her own body, would have impressed her as worthy of an exclamation of amazement and admiration. But the Visitor merely noted that, as it had already suspected, this species reproduced sexually and this male's exposure was part of some mating ritual. The use of language would be especially tricky here. It always was when it involved sexual reproduction among intelligent life forms. "Honey, Big Tom here needs some strokin'," Loopy said softly. "Needs some lickin' and suckin' too." The Visitor ran through Elsie's sexual memories and acquired behaviors and decided that cooperation with this male was appropriate. "A blow job?" asked Elsie. "Sure, I can do that." And she did, with consummate skill and a concentration that Loopy and Irv had never seen before in such circumstances. It was as if she were conducting some sort of study in which she herself, along with Loopy, was the subject. But Loopy's puzzlement soon dissolved in a shudder and a fountain of cum. She swallowed it, licked her lips and said, without a hint of a smile, "Well, that was certainly fun." "Ya think so?" asked Irv. "Well, how about you do me while Loopy drives?" "No, don't stop yet," said Loopy. "Let's find a side road and see if we can get somewhere secluded, then we can all have lots of fun." Irv eagerly searched the highway ahead of them, looking for a place to turn off. Without noticing it, he was driving more and more slowly. Too slowly for a car that had come up behind them. Joe Joe knocked on the back window to get Irv's attention just as the siren on the car behind them made a short blast. It was a sheriff's deputy. Irv pulled over on the shoulder and cursed under his breath. Loopy said, "Okay, stay cool. We're just helping this young lady get to a garage where they can send out a tow truck for her car." The deputy, a trim, freckled man of 45, exchanged a few words with Joe Joe and Carlos before reaching the driver's side window. "Where you boys headed?" he asked. Then he saw Elsie and added, "I mean you boys and the lady." "We picked her up back down the road a ways," said Irv. "Her sports car overheated. We're bringing her to a garage to get a thermostat." "Yeah, I saw her car. You agree with all this?" the deputy asked, looking at Elsie. "Yes," she said. "My small, vintage sports car broke down and these men offered to hump me." The deputy did a double take. Loopy gulped hard. Elsie frowned and said, "I mean 'help me.' They offered to help me." "This some kind of joke?" the deputy asked. "No, sir," said Irv. "She just talks that way. We only met her a few minutes ago, don't even know her name. But I don't think she grew up speaking English." "Okay," the deputy said. "Miss, you sure you're okay? You're in that truck voluntarily?" "Oh, yes," said Elsie. "I have volunteered for this adventure. I am quite curious to see how it will turn out." The deputy shook his head. "Goddamndest thing I've ever heard out of a good-looking woman in a wet tank top. I hope you boys have a lot of fun and give her an adventure worth remembering." "If we don't, we'll die trying," said Irv. Loopy breathed a big sigh of relief as the deputy walked back to his car. Then he planted a big wet kiss on the top of Elsie's head. "Honey, I don't understand you," he said. "But you're just what the doctor ordered." *** A few minutes later, they spotted a blacktop road that angled off the highway to the right. It crossed a culvert, then ran a hundred yards or so through low, swampy land covered with tall grass. The blacktop turned into clamshell gravel, and the road made a slight curve along a stand of pine trees. Finally, it came to a stop beside a fishing camp on a bayou. The camp was just an unpainted cabin with a side porch and a wooden dock. It looked abandoned. "What'dya think?" Irv asked. "Looks okay," Loopy said. "Let's check it out." Loopy climbed out and reached back to help Elsie. She looked at his hand in puzzlement, then gripped it and stepped down. Loopy left her and headed for the cabin, and Elsie found herself staring into the ravenous eyes of Carlos. Joe Joe stood next to him, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. They stood so close that she had to slide against the truck to get past them. There was the sound of wood breaking, and when they looked up they saw Loopy standing in the doorway, holding the shattered remains of the door. "It was locked," he said with a shrug. He and Irv entered, and Elsie ran up the steps and joined them. Inside, the air smelled of mildew and fish. In a big room were three metal cots with thin, worn mattresses. A small bathroom was at the far side of the bedroom. To the right was a doorway that led into the kitchen, which consisted of a faucet and sink, a small gas stove with two burners, and a wooden table with three cheap plastic chairs. From the porch, Joe Joe stuck his head into the bedroom and said, "It stinks in here." "Yeah," said Loopy. "But it's nice and private, and we need a little privacy. Don't we, honey?" The last comment was directed to Elsie, who nodded thoughtfully. "What's your name?" Irv asked. "Elsie. My name is Elsie." "Why don't you take those wet clothes off, Elsie?" Elsie pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it on the floor. She wore no bra. Her breasts were large and firm, with purplish nipples. The four men watched her with a mixture of awe and lust. "The shorts, too," Irv said. She unbuttoned her shorts and wiggled as she pushed them down to her ankles. She now wore only white bikini panties, sandals and a thin gold necklace with an amethyst pendant. "Does my appearance please and arouse you?" she asked. "Fuckin-A, honey," said Loopy. "Amen," said Irv and Joe Joe. Carlos said nothing. "Well, here is something even better," she said. "My pussy is very wet." She pulled down her panties, and indeed the crotch was stained. "I can't stand it," Joe Joe shouted. He rushed forward and pushed Elsie backward to the floor. He landed on top of her, reached down, unzipped his fly, and wiggled as he inserted his prick. Elsie wrapped her arms and legs around him and said, "Push it in. Push harder. Push. Push. Push." The message was encouraging but her voice was strangely flat. Joe Joe came quickly, then rolled off her and onto his back, breathing heavily. "Thank you," Elsie said. "That was fun. Who would like to be next?" Irv stepped forward, pulled her up from the floor and dragged her over to one of the cots. "Face down," he commanded, and shoved her onto the cot. "Spread your legs," he said. He fucked her from behind, slowly and with great self-discipline. When she started to say something, he slapped her hard on the side of the head and said, "Shut up, bitch." Then he came with a groan like that of a dying man and withdrew. Loopy, who had already removed his pants, stepped forward and lifted Elsie into his arms. He went to another cot and sat down. "You're going to be on top, understand?" he said. "Oh, yes, that should be fun, too," she answered. Loopy lay back on the mattress and Elsie seemed to know just what to do. She straddled him, with her hands on his chest, then lowered herself on his big prick. "Oh my god," Loopy cried. "This is fuckin' heaven!" She moved her pussy up and down on his prick, and leaned forward to lick his chest. "Is this what you wanted?" she asked. "Honey, this is all I've ever wanted in my entire fuckin' life." Then he grabbed her waist and bounced her up and down, faster and faster until he let go with an enormous orgasm. For over a minute, she lay on top of him, breathing heavily and as exhausted as he was. He embraced her with one arm. "That was really great," Loopy said at last. "Really, really great." "Yeah, really great, but we gotta get back to town," said Irv. "Wait a minute," said Carlos. "I haven't had my turn." "That's right," Joe Joe said. "We gotta be fair about this." "Okay," said Irv. "Go ahead and fuck her." Carlos shook his head. "Not here. I'll take her outside, in the woods." Loopy sat up. "In the woods? What are you going to do in the woods that you can't do right here, Carlos?" "What the fuck difference does it make to you?" Carlos said angrily. "Let him go, Loopy," said Joe Joe. "He just doesn't like doing it in front of the rest of us. I can understand that." "No," said Loopy. "I think he wants to do something that we won't want him to do. Am I right, Carlos? I'll bet you're carrying a knife. Right, Carlos? You don't want to just fuck her, you want to cut her up, too." "And what kind of knight errant are you, Loopy?" Carlos snarled. "Did you save that Vietnamese slut from the gators? [See "Voodoo Dreams."] Matter of fact, wasn't it you who roughed her up in that alley and got yourself and your friends into trouble?" Loopy stood up and started to move toward Carlos. "Wait a minute," said Joe Joe. "We all know too much about one another to start fighting. Let Carlos go in the woods with the girl, then we'll go back to New Orleans." "He's right," said Irv. "We gotta stick together." Loopy grumbled some undistinguishable reply and put on his pants. Carlos grabbed Elsie's arm and said, "Come with me, bitch." "This will be different, I assume," Elsie said. She looked back at Loopy. "Yeah, honey," Loopy said glumly. "It probably will be quite a bit different." Loopy, Irv and Joe Joe went out onto the porch and watched Carlos and Elsie disappear into the woods. It was getting hot again. The rain had only made the air steamy. Joe Joe walked out to the end of the short dock. A fish jumped a few yards away. In the distance a pelican swooped low. The scene was comforting and familiar. Joe Joe wished he had a boat and some fishing tackle. They heard a cry from the woods. It must have been Elsie, but it didn't sound like her. Loopy shook his head and swore, "That bastard's going to pay for this." But it wasn't Carlos who emerged from the woods, it was the girl. She was bleeding from a bite wound on her shoulder, but she didn't seem scared or upset. "Where's Carlos?" Joe Joe asked. "He's gone," Elsie said simply. "Gone? What do you mean 'gone'?" Loopy put his arm around her and said, "Let me see that shoulder." "Hey," said Joe Joe, "I'm not finished talking to her. I want to know where Carlos is." "You want to know? You go look for him." "Okay," said Joe Joe. "I'll do that. Come on, Irv, help me find out what the fuck is goin' on." They walked past the truck and into the woods. There was a thick layer of pine needles on the ground, and it was very quiet. Even the birds had fallen silent. "Hey, look here," Joe Joe said. He picked up a gold necklace. It was the one Elsie had been wearing. They continued searching for clues on the ground. They found a spot where there was blood on the pine needles. Lots of blood. Elsie had been bleeding, but not that much. The blood was all in one small area. There didn't seem to be a trail leading anywhere. "Carlos," Joe Joe yelled. "Carlos, where the fuck are you?" Irv joined in, but without much enthusiasm. Like Loopy, he despised Carlos. But it was more than that. He felt that Elsie was telling the truth. For whatever reason, Carlos had disappeared. There were only a few acres of woods, and Joe Joe and Irv finished searching them in less than 15 minutes. They went back to the cabin. Elsie had put her shorts and tank top back on and was sitting on the edge of the porch, with her legs dangling down. Loopy was rocking back and forth on his feet, with his hands in his pockets. He looked content. "Find the pecker-head?" he asked. "No," said Irv. "We looked all over. He's not in the woods. Maybe he went back to the highway. I guess we should drive out and look for him." They got back into the truck. Joe Joe was now alone in back, under the sun. He looked into the woods as they drove away. Why had Carlos disappeared? Where had he gone? *** In the woods, a crow had found the answer to the latter question. He perched on a branch 40 feet above the ground. A few feet away, impaled on a dead branch, were the mortal remains of Carlos. The branch protruded from his chest like a bloody, broken bone. His head had rolled forward, his chin resting on his chest. His eyes were open, and he stared at the ground below with an expression of dismay and surprise. An unopened folding knife was clenched in his right hand. *** "Honey," said Loopy, "I guess you've figured out we aren't taking you to a garage. That foreign piece of shit you were driving probably ain't worth fixing, assuming anyone around here would know how to fix it." Elsie looked at him expressionlessly and said nothing. "What I'm suggesting," Loopy continued, "is that, since we had so much fun in the cabin, maybe we could continue partying at our motel room. You know, we could get a pizza and some beer and you could spend the night. Then we could drive you to wherever you were headed. I assume you were headed for New Orleans?" The Visitor couldn't find an answer in Elsie's brain. But again an alarm went off in the dwindling remnant of Elsie's consciousness. The Visitor decided to test its validity. "No," said Elsie, "I don't think you only plan to party. I think you plan to rape me and cut my throat. Am I correct?" Her voice was calm and inquisitive, as if she were interviewing a job applicant or conducting an opinion poll. Irv slowed the truck and turned to Loopy. Loopy was looking at the girl. He seemed suspicious and hurt. "Now what makes you say something like that?" he asked. "Didn't you have fun in the cabin? Wouldn't you like to do it again?" "Yes," said Elsie. "It was great fun. I'm willing to continue this adventure. I just wondered what you were planning for me." Loopy cleared his throat. He was nervous and unsure how to deal with this strange woman. "Honest, all we've got planned is some partying. Ain't any of us interested in cutting your throat. Well, maybe Carlos would be, but he ditched you." Loopy paused. "Where exactly did he go? Did you see him leave the woods?" The Visitor was beginning to enjoy this. The male Two-Legs didn't seem to know how to deal with this female. Perhaps it would be interesting to tell them the truth. "I killed him," said Elsie. Loopy watched her face silently for several seconds. Then his shoulders began to heave and he was giggling a high-pitched giggle inappropriate for someone his size. "You killed him?" he wheezed, after regaining control. "Then what did you do with his body, eat it?" The Visitor pondered this suggestion. Cannibalism. Was that an option for Two-Legs? Elsie's brain said no. Cannibalism was inappropriate behavior in this society. Still, it was worth filing away for future reference. *** They pulled into the motel parking lot just as the shift was changing. The day manager, a thin, pimply young man with dark hair and glasses, was just outside the office, talking with his replacement, a thin, pimply young man with blond hair. They glanced up as the pickup passed them and parked a few yards away. They saw a young man jump out of the back, and two men and a woman get out of the cab. "How long they gonna stay here?" the blond manager asked. "I don't know," said the other. "They left here this morning with another woman, an oriental type. And there was another man with them, a Mexican or something." "Yeah. Room 106 is turning into a real party headquarters," said the first clerk. "I saw the oriental babe last evening. And they made a hell of a racket last night. Had a couple of complaints from the guy in 110, but I told him we don't interfere with the entertainment. I mean, I'm not going to get my ass whipped by those rednecks just to satisfy some piss ant who's stupid enough to come here only to sleep." The day manager said, "Same here. When these bastards drove off this morning, the oriental chick's hands were tied behind her back. Think I got involved? No fucking way. They don't pay me enough to get involved. Live and let live, I say." *** Inside Room 106, Loopy, Irv and Joe Joe counted what was left of their money. Just over $400. The room was $35 a night. They were in good shape. "I'll get the pizza," Loopy said. "What d'yall want?" "Pepperoni, double cheese," Joe Joe said. "And green pepper," said Irv. "We need something green." "How about you, honey?" asked Loopy. Elsie shook her head. "I'm not sure what tastes appeal to me," she said. "I think it would be best for you to choose. It will be part of my adventure." Loopy laughed. "So pizza is part of the adventure, too? Suckin' and fuckin' and pizza. It's all one big adventure. Honey, you're one very weird chick." He leaned over and kissed Elsie on the lips. "Weird and wonderful," he said, then left. When the door closed, Joe Joe grabbed Elsie's arm and spun her around. "Okay, bitch, your protector is gone and now you're going to answer a few questions." "We've already asked her," Irv said. "In the truck. We asked again what happened to Carlos." "And?" "And she doesn't know," said Irv. "Well, that's not quite what she said. She said she killed him. I mean, I think there's something wrong in her mind. She doesn't make sense sometimes." "Maybe so," said Joe Joe. He still held Elsie's arm. "Is that right, bitch? Are you a little crazy? Well, let's see if you understand this." He slammed his fist into her stomach. Her breath whooshed out, and she sank to her knees. "Got the message yet, bitch?" He pulled her dark hair back, then slapped her hard in the face. "Come on, Joe Joe," said Irv. "Don't do that. Loopy likes her. He'll be pissed." Inside Elsie, the Visitor searched and found the memory of a voice that seemed appropriate for the situation. It was from an old movie about exorcism. "Forget Loopy. I'm the one who's pissed." The growl came from Elsie, deep and demonic. "What the fuck!" exclaimed Irv and Joe Joe simultaneously. [To be continued.]
(II) Detective Homer Heyman of the New Orleans Police Department stood outside Room 106 of the Stay-Awhile Motel on Airline Highway, waiting for the head of the investigating unit of the Jefferson Parish Sheriff's Department to finish his work. This was a Jefferson Parish matter, but Homer, a trim black man in a conservative navy blue suit, had a role to play, too. After all, this tangled mess evidently involved a Vietnamese stripper from Orleans Parish who reportedly had been abducted by the three men who had been sharing the motel room for the past few weeks. The door to 106 was open, and Homer could see several sheriff's deputies and a forensics expert milling about. He got a glimpse of one of the bodies, lying on the floor. It was in pretty bad shape. The other was on the bed, a motel maid had told him, but he hadn't yet seen it. At last, the deputy in charge came out and wiped his face with a handkerchief. He was a rumpled man with baggy eyes and a downturned mouth. "Lieutenant Heyman, NOPD," said Homer. "Dassin," said the other man. "Sgt. Jules Dassin." "What you got in there?" Homer asked. "Two white males, bludgeoned to death. Blood all over the fuckin' place. The TV set ripped off of the wall stand. The guy who did this evidently hit one of the victims with the set. Smashed his skull. Then the perp pulled the metal support for the TV out of the wall and used that as a club on the other victim. He must be one fuckin' strong son of a bitch. And a sick one, too. Both victims had their dicks and balls ripped off. Matter of fact, their privates are missing entirely. Not anywhere in the room." "Jesus," said Homer. "And the girl? The maid told me the manager saw the men go into the room with a young woman last night." "Yeah," said Dassin. "That's what he told us, but there's no sign of her, and no sign of the third guy, a big son of a bitch named Louis 'Loopy' Overton. From North Carolina. One of the victims, Irv Moscow, was from North Carolina, too." "And the other one?" "Named Joe Joe Boudreaux. A coon-ass from around Opelousas. A record for a lot of petty shit -- drunk and disorderly, drunk driving, resisting arrest, the usual. But the two from North Carolina, Moscow and Overton, they've been in some serious trouble. Long rap sheets, especially Overton's. Assault and battery, rape, punching out an officer. Both of them were held for a while last year in a murder case, but the charges were dropped. [See "The Girl Who Fell to Earth."] The sheriff I talked to in North Carolina said they couldn't find the corpse. Strange case. A head but no body." "So what do you think happened here?" Homer asked. "Well, I see it this way. This guy Overton goes out for a pizza -- the manager says he saw him drive off. Then he comes back and his buddies are poking this broad. He gets pissed that they started the party without him. A fight ensues. He kills his buddies, grabs the girl and heads out. We've got a make and license on the truck. It shouldn't take long to find them. I just hope he hasn't had time to finish off the girl." "You got a name on her?" "Yeah. Elsie Genisse. The truck got stopped yesterday by a deputy in St. Cannabis Parish. She was in the cab with two men, evidently Overton and Moscow. Boudreaux and an unidentified, Mexican-looking guy were in back. The deputy asks her if she's okay, if she wants to stay with these guys, and she says sure. In fact, the deputy said she told him they were going to hump her. Just like that, they were going to hump her. Damnedest thing I ever heard." "Where'd they find her?" "Her car had broken down. Some kind of little sports car. British, I think. Anyway, the deputy returns to the car after he stops the pickup truck. Her purse is in it. That's how he finds out her name. Also finds out she lives in Houston. Twenty-two years old. He makes some calls, finds out she graduated from Tulane. Active in amateur theater and opera. And into those Japanese martial arts. Kung fu and all that shit." "What about the Vietnamese girl?" Homer asked. "Well, I don't have much, but listen to this. The manager first says he never saw any Vietnamese girl. Then he says maybe they had her in the room night before last, but he can't remember for sure. Then he remembers for sure. She left with them yesterday morning. He saw them leave. So I ask him if there was anything unusual, and he says no. Then he says, well, maybe one thing -- her hands were tied behind her back when they put her into the truck. Think of that. The bastard sees these punks drive off with this girl, and her hands are tied, and he doesn't do a goddamn thing. What's this fuckin' world coming to?" "And that's it? He didn't see her again?" "That's it. When they came back yesterday evening, it was three guys, not four, and this Elsie Genisse, not the Vietnamese girl. You think we'll find either one of these women alive?" "No," said Homer. "I've got a bad feeling about this one. I think those girls are gone for good." "Yeah, you're probably right. Now, I been giving you all I know. How about you telling me something?" "Fair enough," said Homer. "All I've got is a first name for the Vietnamese girl. Lulu. She had been living the last few weeks in the Quarter with two other women. I talked with them. They said they didn't know Lulu's last name. Never asked, they said. Anyway, they were all dancers at a club called the Voodoo Doll. The two I talked with got roughed up the other night. Two men -- I guess they were two of the three we're dealing with now -- they broke into the apartment, punched out one of the women and shot the other in the leg. Then they grabbed this Lulu and scrammed." A photographic flash went off inside Room 106. "Should make quite an album," Dassin said. "Yeah," said Homer. "Our gals Lulu and Elsie must be looking awful pretty by now, too." He handed Dassin a card and said, "Keep in touch." "Okay," said Dassin. "I'll be calling you. By the way, we found a videotape in the room. It had a label that just said 'Gators.' We're going to the manager's office. He's got a VCR. Want to watch?" "No," said Homer. "I got to get back into town. It's probably just an old Florida football game. Didn't they play Carolina in a bowl a few years ago?" "Dunno," said Dassin. "Football ain't my sport. I'm into huntin' and fishin'. In a few years, I'm goin' to retire and hunt and fish. I'm sick of this shit." "Hunting and fishing, huh?" said Homer. "Where you can be the predator for a change, instead of cleaning up messes like this. I can dig it." He walked back to his car whistling a jazzy tune. He didn't want to hunt and fish. He wanted to win the lottery and spend his days listening to Miles Davis and his nights playing the trumpet at the Owl and the Pussy Cat. He wanted to find a new wife. Wine, woman and song. Was it so much to ask for? *** Loopy was behind the wheel, but it would be a stretch to say he was driving. His right eye was swollen shut, and the left was filled with tears from the pain in his leg. He could hardly see the road in front of him, so he was light on the accelerator. It was a two-lane country road, and he wanted to make damn sure he didn't have an accident. Next to him, Elsie was singing softly, some Italian, operatic kind of song, as best he could tell. He glanced over at her and could see, through his tears, that she was smiling to herself. The bitch. She wore one of his sweatshirts to cover her bloodied tank top. The shirt was like an oversize bathrobe on her. He couldn't believe someone so small had beaten the shit out of him. No one had beaten him up since he was in the third grade -- the first time. He was six-foot-six and weighed 270 pounds. This woman -- if she that's what she really was -- weighed half that, at most. Yet, when he had returned to the motel room the night before, she had humiliated him. First she had hit him in the knee with a big chunk of metal when he came through the door, then she had slammed him into the wall. He had fallen onto something wet. It was the bloody body of either Irv or Joe Joe, he couldn't tell which. He looked up just in time to take a punch in the eye. That was followed by a kick in the side that knocked the breath out of him. The fight continued to be pretty lopsided. He managed to land a good, solid right to the side of her head, and it slowed her for a moment. But she recovered quickly and was again on top of him, clawing his face and banging his head on the floor. He had never encountered anyone, man or woman, so strong. Her only disadvantage was her weight. She could punch and twist and use all kinds of martial arts moves, but she was still only 130 pounds. Thank God. He shuddered to think what would have happened to him if she were his size. So now he was her chauffeur. "We must go to Arkansas," she had said, after he had regained his senses. "Why Arkansas?" he had asked, lying on his back on the floor with her looking down at him. "There are life forms there that I am interested in," she had said. "Razorbacks. I want to see what a razorback looks like. Besides, one of your presidents is from Arkansas." "One of MY presidents. What about your president? Where the fuck are you from?" "Not from around here," she had said. "Not from anywhere around here." *** So he was on some godforsaken back road in Louisiana, a state he wished he had never heard of, driving some weird creature in the form of a very hot babe, a babe who could probably beat the shit out of a pool hall full of drunken rednecks, without even using a cue stick. Of all the rotten goddam luck. "I like sex," Elsie said, matter-of-factly. "I like blow jobs and fucking. I didn't think I'd like it so much, but I do." "Yeah, well, I'm sure every man in America is happy to hear that," said Loopy. "But I'm not sure they'll be happy to hear what comes after. What do girls in your galaxy do after mating -- eat the males like some kind of goddamn black widows?" Elsie didn't answer right away. Finally, she said, "Black widows? Spiders. Yes, and praying mantises. Yes, now I see." What the Visitor saw was Elsie's sketchy education in the natural sciences, mostly composed of bits and pieces of programs on the Discovery Channel. Loopy swerved to miss a sickly looking brown and white dog that had strayed into the road. "You change course to avoid such creatures?" Elsie asked. "Sure," said Loopy, with the wounded tone of one offended. "Do you think we'd kill a dog if we could avoid it?" "But each other -- you kill each other?" "Yeah, I guess so. But usually for good reason, like in a war or in self-defense or if they totally piss you off. We don't just kill for no reason at all, like you did to Irv and Joe Joe." "Ah, but I had a reason," said Elsie. "The one you call Joe Joe pissed me off. He struck me, twice." Loopy was quiet for a while. Then he said, "So you were telling the truth when you said you killed Carlos?" "Yes, I killed him too. It was quite easy." "And me, why didn't you kill me?" "I need someone to drive me. And to fuck me. You did the best job fucking." "Thanks," said Loopy grimly. "Usually Big Tom has gotten me into trouble. Looks like this time he saved my life." "Do all males of your species name their sex organs?" asked Elsie. "Yeah, I guess so. I don't know for sure. Do women name their pussies? Shit, you wouldn't know. You're not from around here, and you're probably not even a woman." They drove on in silence. Loopy felt guilty, an unusual sentiment for him. He had lied when he told Elsie that humans killed only for good reason. He had broken the neck of the bitch that Jake had shot out of the sky back in Carolina, and he had been an enthusiastic participant in turning Lulu into a gator feast. Neither one had done anything to piss him off; he just enjoyed killing the one and watching the other get eaten. But he couldn't tell Elsie that. She might get ideas. Hell, she might turn him into a meal. [To be continued.]
Part III Loopy didn't know much about geography, but he knew Louisiana was shaped like a boot and that Arkansas sat atop it on the map. But they were in the toe of the boot, which stuck east under Mississippi. So he figured they would have to go generally northwest for a while, before turning north. He stuck to back roads because he figured the cops by now had discovered the carnage in Room 106 and were looking for him and Elsie. Mainly for him. They would assume he had killed Irv and Joe Joe. Why would they think otherwise? How could they know that this babe sitting beside him, humming some strange song he'd never heard before, was actually The Thing, The Blob and Godzilla, all rolled into one? They passed a dilapidated store with a couple of gas pumps in front. Loopy looked at the fuel gauge. They were running close to empty. He slowed, pulled to a stop, then backed into a gravel driveway. "Where are we going?" Elsie asked. "Back the road a little. We need gas." Elsie pondered this. "Gas is what you put in this vehicle for fuel? But it's a liquid. Why do you call it gas?" "Short for gasoline," Loopy said. "You really don't know shit, do you?" He pulled the truck up to one of the pumps, stepped out and looked around. No one was outside, so he went into the store. It was cooler than outside, thanks to a wheezy window air conditioner. And it was dark. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Then he saw a thin man in bib overalls standing behind a counter. "Howdy," Loopy said. "I need some gas. Do I pump it myself?" The man behind the counter looked past him at the door and said nothing. Loopy turned and looked behind him. Elsie was standing in the doorway. She had shed his shirt, so her bloody tank top, filled with her magnificent breasts, was on full display. "What happened to her?" the storekeeper asked, suspiciously. "Nothing," said Loopy. "We was cutting up some meat. Now how about the gas?" "Ain't got none," the man said. He leaned down and reached beneath the counter. "All out until I get a delivery tomorrow." "Okay," Loopy said with a sigh. He turned to leave, but the man said, "Wait a minute, you ain't going nowhere." Loopy turned back and found himself looking at the business end of a double-barreled shotgun. Twelve gauge, as best he could tell. "Get over here," the man said, looking at Elsie. "Get over by your man, and no funny business." "What the fuck!" exclaimed Loopy in exasperation. "I've walked in on a stickup before, but I never been stuck up by a store owner. What the hell you want with us?" "I don't rightly know," the man said. "But there's something funny going on here. "Her with all that blood all over her. And that pickup truck. They said on the radio a little while ago that the cops in New Orleans were looking for a big man and a woman who rode off in an orange pickup truck. You're a big man, you got a woman with you, and you got an orange pickup. Plus, all that blood. I'm calling the sheriff." He held the gun with his left hand and punched a three-digit number on the phone with the other. Then he held the receiver to his ear and waited. It took a long time before anyone answered. Loopy began to wonder if 9-1-1 had reached the backwoods yet. Finally, the man said, "Yeah. This is Stevenson over on Longwood Road. I got a man and a woman here I think had something to do with them murders in Jefferson Parish." He paused, then said, "Jesus Christ, don't you people even listen to the goddamn radio and TV. There was two men beaten to death in a motel outside New Orleans. Cops are looking for a man and a woman -- aw, the hell with it. Just send a car over here and take a look." He hung up, then motioned Loopy and Elsie to take a seat on a bench along the back wall. "Well," said Loopy, as he sat down. "I guess this is where all us earthlings learn just who you are, honey. The law is going to be here in a few minutes, and tough as you are, I don't think you're going to fight your way out of this one." "Is that a gun he's holding?" Elsie asked. "Yeah, honey, that's a gun. A shotgun. Two barrels. Would make quite a mess of you. So I'd just sit still if I were you." But Elsie didn't sit still. She walked slowly toward the man behind the counter, her eyes on the gun. "Sit down, miss," Stevenson said. "Don't make me use this." "But I want you to use it," Elsie said calmly. "I want to see how it works." The man backed away as she approached, but there wasn't much room behind him. "I'm warning you," he said. Then, to Loopy, he yelled, "Tell this crazy woman to get back." She lunged for him, and he pulled the trigger. The first blast hit her in the left shoulder, spinning her around. The second hit her in the small of the back. She landed face down on the floor, a big hole in her back where the load of Number Two shot had ripped into her. There was silence for a moment, then Loopy said in amazement, "Jesus, you killed her." "Didn't mean to," the man said. "But she kept on coming at me. You saw it. You saw her coming at me." Loopy leaned down and touched Elsie's cheek. She was motionless. He thought she'd be writhing around, at least for a while. She must really be dead. He felt strange, a mixture of relief and sadness. He was glad she couldn't beat him up again, but he was sad because he had liked her more than any other woman he'd ever met. He looked up. The man behind the counter had reloaded the shotgun, and it was again aimed at him. "Get back on that bench 'til the sheriff gets here," the man said. Loopy stepped back and sat heavily on the bench. He felt tired and resigned. He heard a siren approaching. They'd send him to prison for killing Irv and Joe Joe, and this son of a bitch would get off scot-free after blowing Elsie all to hell. It wasn't fair. A car with flashing blue lights skidded to a stop in front of the store, and two men in tan uniforms and Smokey the Bear hats came into the store, guns drawn. They looked down at Elsie, and one of them said, "Aw shit." "Who shot her?" the other one asked. "I did," Stevenson said. "I didn't want to, but she came at me." "You couldn't have just slugged her or pushed her away," the first deputy said. "No," said Stevenson. "I was afraid the big guy would rush me if I got to tangling with the girl." "Hey," interrupted Loopy. "We just come here for gas and this son of a bitch pulls a gun and shoots my girlfriend." "Shut up," said both deputies simultaneously. One of them reached down and felt for a pulse in Elsie's neck. "Still pumping, but pretty weak," he said. He put his gun in its holster and unhooked a radio from his belt. "We're over at Stevenson's on Longwood," he said. "Got a woman down with a gunshot wound, but still alive. Get an ambulance here quick." The other deputy approached Loopy and told him to stand, face the wall and put his hands behind him. "Why you gonna cuff me?" Loopy asked. "I didn't do the shooting." "Yeah, and you'll probably be released as soon as we clear up this mess," said the deputy. "But it ain't cleared up yet." They brought Loopy outside, and Stevenson joined them, minus the shotgun. "I guarantee he had something to do with those killings in Jefferson Parish," Stevenson said. "It all fits together." "Yeah, maybe so," said one of the deputies. "And maybe you were too goddamn quick on the trigger." "Fuckin' A," said Loopy. "Shut up," yelled both deputies and Stevenson. Then they were interrupted by a very loud bang, and the deputy standing next to Loopy jerked backward and fell to the ground. The other wheeled just in time to take a face full of pellets from the gun Stevenson had left in the store. Elsie, standing bare-breasted on the porch, was the shooter. Stevenson and Loopy looked at her in stunned silence. She aimed the gun at Stevenson and again pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. Stevenson bolted to the road and started running. "Get me out of these cuffs," Loopy yelled. "The keys are on the deputy's belt." Elsie walked unsteadily over to the fallen deputy closest to Loopy and bent to search his belt. Loopy looked at her lower back, which a few minutes ago had a big, bloody hole in it. The hole was gone. In its place, there was what appeared to be a mass of white, bumpy scar tissue. When she found the keys and stood, Loopy saw similar tissue on her shoulder. "You're fuckin' indestructible," he said, with a mixture of fear and admiration. She gestured to him to turn around, then unlocked the cuffs. They heard a siren in the distance. "That'll be the ambulance," said Loopy. "Either that or more deputies. Get in the truck, quick." He got in, cranked up the engine, then remembered he was still almost out of gas. They could take the deputies' cruiser, but that would make them even more obvious a target, and besides, the truck could at least go off road, if the going got rough. He pulled out into the road and jammed the accelerator to the floor. The ambulance came around a curve and barely missed them. A hundred yards later, Loopy saw Stevenson jogging wearily along the side of the road. He was headed the same direction they were, so his back was toward them. Loopy guided the truck onto the shoulder. Stevenson turned just in time to recognize the danger but too late to do anything about it. The impact threw him far into the air, and he landed in a broken heap next to a sycamore tree. Loopy gunned the engine and the truck swerved back onto the road. Elsie seemed uninterested. "You okay?" Loopy asked, after a little while. "This adventure is quite exhausting," Elsie replied softly. She didn't seem to be in pain, just tired. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but your body had better be ready for some pretty hard work. We gotta get off this road. Then when the gas runs out, we gotta go overland on foot and hide out somewhere for a while. Every sheriff and cop within fifty miles is going to be looking for us." "I'll give it the old collagen try," she said. "Maybe it will be fun." Loopy turned onto a gravel road that branched off to the left. They went through a pine woods for a mile or so, then the gravel road ended and they were on a dirt track that ran through tall grass. Half a mile ahead of them was a clump of trees and a vine-encrusted barn that was leaning precariously to the left. The truck sputtered and came to a stop. Loopy tried to crank it up again, but the motor wouldn't catch. The needle on the fuel gauge was so far to the left he could hardly see it. "This is where we start walking," he said. He got out, opened an aluminum chest behind the driver's seat and pulled out a blanket, a hunting knife in a sheath, a canteen with a strap, and a plastic first-aid kit. Elsie's knees buckled as she got out of the truck and she fell face forward into the grass. Loopy came around and helped her to her feet. Her body was still tantalizingly sexy, but she seemed to have lost all her strength. He reckoned if they fought again, he'd whip her ass without breaking a sweat. But he didn't want to fight. They were in this together. They should be allies, not enemies. *** Inside Elsie, the Visitor was also doing some calculating. The big question was how long Elsie's body would hold out. Killing Carlos, Irv and Joe Joe had taken a lot of her; so had the battle with Loopy. Her body, though athletic, wasn't designed for such exertions. Now there was the damage done by the shotgun. The repairs that the Visitor had made were only a patch-up affair. Inside, Elsie's spine, kidneys and several other organs had been shattered. They were now held together with a DNA glue that the Visitor had synthesized from other tissue. The repairs would fail soon, and the Visitor wanted to be ready to move to a new host. Loopy was the obvious candidate. He was big and strong -- and male. It would be interesting trying sex as a male Two-Leg. But he didn't seem very intelligent, and if the law enforcers he was so worried about caught up with him, they would no doubt shoot him, the way the man in the store had shot Elsie. Nevertheless, there weren't many other potential hosts around, at least not of the two-legged variety, and a return to insects or something even more insignificant would be a letdown. *** They circled the barn, making sure no one was nearby. They needn't have worried. There wasn't another building in sight, and whatever might once have grown in the fields around the barn had long ago been replaced by tall grass and taller, broad-leaf weeds. Loopy had had to pull away vines to create an opening big enough for them to enter. "Fuckin' kudzu," he snarled, as he ripped the twisting green sinews. "Goddamn vine doesn't belong here. They brought it over from Japan or Java. It's a fuckin' alien invasion." He paused, looked nervously at Elsie and said, "Sorry. I didn't mean no offense. But it is an alien. I mean, it isn't American." "Yes," said Elsie, "I understand. What isn't American is alien. And Louisiana, is that American?" "I'm not sure," said Loopy, as he stepped back to admire his work. "Here, we can get in now." It was hot inside, and they were overwhelmed by the smell of rotting wood and of some kind of wild animal, raccoon perhaps, or possum. Loopy was dying of thirst. He opened the canteen and drank deeply. Then he offered it to Elsie. She declined. "You better drink something," he said. "You're going to get dehydrated." He drank again, but he needed more than water. He was dizzy with hunger. He hadn't eaten since ... he tried to remember when. The night before? No, that was when he brought the pizza to the motel room and got the shit kicked out of him. It must have been lunch at Joe Joe's cousin's place, the alligator farm, over 24 hours ago. But he was even more exhausted than he was hungry. He spread the blanket on the decomposing straw on the barn floor and sat so suddenly that the whole barn shook. Then he lay back and spread his arms and legs. "Come over here, honey," he said. "You must be pooped, too." In the dim light filtering through the kudzu and some missing boards in the walls, Loopy could see Elsie's pale body, but it was just a vague form, like a ghost. She didn't answer him. "Okay, but I ain't staying up to keep you company," Loopy said. He closed his eyes and immediately felt dizzy. But the dizziness passed, and he fell into a deep sleep. *** *** *** Loopy was puzzled. His buddy Jake, who had disappeared months ago, was at a microphone at the head table of a big banquet. Irv sat next to him. Hundreds of other people were in the big room, and waiters were moving back and forth among the tables. Loopy was at a table near the front, directly facing Jake, who wore a white tuxedo. Loopy couldn't figure out why he was there -- and why Jake, of all people, had been invited to speak. "It's not enough to kill the bitches," Jake was saying. "It's certainly not enough just to fuck 'em. They want to be fucked. What we gotta do is eat them. We gotta turn their energy and their femaleness into nutrients. Just like babies suck milk from their tits, we gotta get the nutrients we need from their meat. We gotta drink their blood. We gotta learn the best ways to cook 'em." Two burly waiters approached the head table carrying a big wooden platter with handles at either end. The platter was covered by a big silver bell. They placed the platter on the head table and removed the cover. Lying on the platter was the steaming body of a woman. She lay on her back, with her knees bent and her arms folded over her chest. She appeared to be asleep. Jake, who now wore a chef's hat and held a huge carving knife in his right hand and a two-pronged fork in his left, looked down at the woman, then looked up at Loopy with a crooked grin. "White meat or dark?" he asked. The scene shifted. Loopy and the woman who had been on the platter were sitting next to each other on a bench in a wood-paneled sauna. She looked vaguely familiar but he couldn't remember where he had met her. She had blonde hair and a slender body, which was wrapped in a white towel. "You tried to kill me," she said softly. "You twisted my head and broke my neck." "Naw," said Loopy, "I never did that. You're thinking of somebody else." "No, it was you, Louis," she said. Then she was gone, and something prompted him to look up. The ceiling of the sauna was high above him, and the light barely reached it. Sitting in the dark, on a rafter, was a large pair of eyes. They were watching him. "Who are you?" Loopy asked. "I am Uggla," said the eyes. "I live in the dark, and I know the darkness. Soon you will be in darkness, too." Then the owl spread its wings and flew into the starlit sky that had been the sauna's roof. *** *** *** Loopy awakened with a start. At first, he didn't remember where he was. Then the smells of the barn brought him back to reality. It was still hot, but not as hot as it had been. And it was dark. It must be nighttime, he thought. He reached out and felt for Elsie. She wasn't there. He sat up, shook the cobwebs out of his head, and carefully got to his feet. He was afraid of stumbling in the dark. "Elsie," he called softly. "Elsie, where the fuck are you?" "I'm out here," she called back. Her voice seemed to come from far away. He groped his way to the doorway where he had pulled away the tenacious vines only a few hours earlier. Already, they had begun to close in again, and he had to force his way through them. It was cooler outside, and a half moon provided enough light for him to see Elsie in the distance, standing next to a leafless tree. As he got closer, he saw that she was completely naked. "You couldn't sleep?" he said. "I don't sleep." He stopped a few feet from her. She was beautiful, in the moonlight -- beautiful but frightening. "Come closer," she said. She knelt and beckoned him with her hand. "I want to take your magnificent prick in my mouth and suck it dry." Loopy didn't feel very sexy, but the invitation was hard to turn down. He unzipped his pants and pulled out Big Tom. It was flaccid but already beginning to pump up. "I don't know, Elsie. I don't know if this is a good idea." "It's a wonderful idea," Elsie said softly. She walked on her knees until her face was only inches from his penis. She took it in her hand and fondled it. Then she leaned forward and enveloped its head with her lips. "I don't know, Elsie," Loopy said in half-hearted protest. She sucked him gently at first, then more vigorously. He breathed heavily, closed his eyes and could barely keep his balance. Then, just as he was ready to cum, she released him, stood up and backed away. Loopy opened his eyes in surprise. "What the hell are you doing? What kind of game is this?" "Not a game," Elsie said. She bent down and reached for something in the grass. It was Loopy's hunting knife. The blade gleamed in the moonlight. "I'm going to cut your dick off," Elsie hissed. "Then I'm going to split you open like an overripe watermelon and eat your innards." Loopy stuffed his dick back in his pants and zipped up. "You're fuckin' crazy," he said. "What happened to you?" She rushed at him and swung the knife at his head. He stumbled backward. The blade barely missed his face. He tripped her as her momentum carried her past him. She fell face down, then he jumped on her. His weight knocked the breath out of her. He got on his knees, straddling her, then grabbed her hair with his left hand and pulled her head back. "Looks like you're not Super Bitch anymore, honey," he yelled. "How about this?" He punched the side of her face with his right hand. Then he stood, raised his right leg and slammed it down into the small of her back. She moaned, and her body jerked wildly. He slipped his foot under her and flipped her over. He reached down, grabbed her throat with both hands, and lifted her off the ground. She reached up and tried to break his grip, but her strength had evaporated. He held her so that her face was inches from his, and her feet didn't touch the ground. She looked at him, blinked, then her eyes rolled back. Her hands fell to her sides. He squeezed even harder on her throat, then tossed her from him. She landed on her back on a rotting log. She lay there, her belly exposed, vulnerable. He stepped backward and felt something hard under his foot. It was his knife. He picked it up and looked back at Elsie. Her legs were spread and her pelvis was slowly rising and falling. It was as if her body was asking to be fucked -- or ripped open. He stepped closer to her and heard her voice. She was whispering. He knelt between her legs and leaned forward. "Fuck me, kill me, eat me, fuck me, kill me, eat me," she said. Her eyes were closed, but she kept on whispering. Inside Elsie, the Visitor was running the show. It was time to abandon this female whose body was now damaged beyond repair. Beyond repair, but not beyond usefulness. It would provide badly needed food for the big male who soon would be the Visitor's new host. But Elsie wasn't cooperating. Her mind had never completely disappeared, since the Visitor needed it in order to negotiate with the other Two-Legs. But her will should have been destroyed long ago. It wasn't. She said what the Visitor made her say and moved the way it wanted her to move. But the Visitor could detect growing resistance. Elsie, the personality who had been absorbed and transformed into a network of malleable neurons within minutes of being taken over by the Visitor, was reasserting herself. Loopy, of course, was unaware of all this. What he saw and heard was a plea by a beautiful, naked woman to be fucked, killed and eaten. He was now ready to fuck. He enjoyed killing. And he was very, very hungry. "You asked for it, baby," he said, drawing back the knife and eyeing the spot in her belly where he would plunge it in. Suddenly, Elsie sat up. She gave out a bloodcurdling shriek as she plunged her thumbs deep into Loopy's eyes. He lurched backward and covered his face with his hands. Blood poured from between his fingers, and he made strange sobbing noises. Elsie jumped up and moved away from him. The Visitor was perplexed and furious. This Two-Leg female - what had they called her, this "bitch" - had ruined its plan. The big male was now blinded and useless. Elsie herself would soon collapse. And there were no other Two-Legs around to serve as hosts. Elsie staggered, confused and weak. The struggle for control of her body caused her to jerk and twitch, as if an electric current were running through her. She stumbled into the mesh of kudzu growing on the side of the barn. Her hands gripped the vines to steady her. Inside, the Visitor saw an opportunity. This vine was vigorous, fast-growing, almost like an animal. The transfer was instantaneous. Elsie's body stiffened. Suddenly, she was whole again, a body and a mind united. She turned, looked out at the moonlit countryside and leaned back, relieved and exhausted, into the vines. They opened, and she fell further backward than she expected. Tendrils wrapped around her neck, her waist, her thighs and ankles. Other tendrils grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms behind her. Barely had she been freed from the Visitor's possession than she was again in its grip. She cried out in anguish, but the vines tightened around her neck and turned her cry into a ragged gurgle. Other tendrils were pressing between her legs, pushing into her crotch. Much to her disgust and dismay, she felt a rush of pleasure as they massaged her clitoris. Others were kneading her breasts, brushing across her nipples. The vines were incredibly powerful, lifting her off the ground and wrapping her so thoroughly that she no longer could see the countryside and the sky. She was enveloped in a cramped green cage. And so she remained, hidden in the kudzu, her erogenous zones repeatedly assaulted, as the sun rose and a new day began. *** Two coon hunters wandered across the field, headed toward the vine-covered barn. Their dog trotted lazily a few yards ahead of them, seemingly uninterested in the hunt, or anything else. The men stopped short when they saw a big, blond-haired man stumbling though the tall grass, his hands waving in front of him. He was bare-chested, and his flesh was covered with welts. Bug bites and poison ivy, they presumed. One of them called out, and Loopy turned toward the voice. They saw that his eyes were shut and caked with dried blood. "Help me," he cried. "Help me, for God's sake. I'm blind. The bitch blinded me. Help me. Help me. Help me." **** A car from the North Felicity Parish sheriff's department bounced over the open ground to the barn. The hunters rushed up to it, talking fast. The driver, a big man with a black mustache, got out and waved the hunters aside. He put his hand on the 9-millimeter pistol at his belt and cautiously approached Loopy. "Louis Overton?" he called out. "Yes," said Loopy. "That's me. I surrender. I surrender. For Christ's sake arrest me. Get me to a fuckin' hospital. The bitch blinded me." Another deputy joined the first. "Is that him, Mack?" he asked. "Yeah, that's him. No sign of the girl." They handcuffed Loopy and pushed him face down into the back seat of car. Then the big deputy, Mack, turned to the hunters. "Did you see a young woman with him? Dark-haired. Good looking." The hunters said they had seen no one but Loopy. "Let's look around before we bring him in," Mack said. He and the other deputy walked all around the barn. Mack pulled back the vines and looked inside. He went back the car, got a flashlight and returned to the barn. He entered carefully. There was a blanket on the floor, and next to it a first-aid kit. He shined the light into every corner. The girl wasn't there. *** In fact, she was only a few feet away, wrapped in kudzu. She could hear the voices of the men, but when she tried to call out to them, the vines tightened around her throat. The only sound that came out was much too faint to be heard, even a yard away. The Visitor was enjoying Elsie's predicament. So close to salvation, yet so far away. What delicious frustration. And so much worse to come. The Visitor had had several hours now to tinker with the kudzu's DNA. It had found a way to force the vine to produce long, sharp, hollow spikes. Dozens of these were now poised to strike. Even as the deputies and the hunters talked and occasionally laughed a few feet away, the spikes plunged into Elsie's breasts, her buttocks, her belly and crotch. Her scream was stifled in her throat. Then the ultimate punishment: two especially long spikes jabbed into Elsie's eyes. *** The hunters' dog suddenly sat up and moved to the vines. It sniffed the kudzu, then growled. Mack saw the dog and told the others to be quiet. "He's found something," he said quietly. But the Visitor was already two jumps ahead. The vine released a vile-smelling liquid that seeped from the leaves closest to the dog. The hound whimpered and backed away. "Guess he smelled a skunk," one of the hunters said. By now, they all smelled something repellent. They moved from the barn and resumed their conversation. *** Inside the kudzu, Elsie was dying. Her blood and other fluids were being sucked from her through the hollow spikes. The fluids were rich nutrients for the vines, which swelled and grew even tighter around her. Finally, Elsie's body shuddered and became quiet. Her heart stopped pumping. A thick tendril slid up her belly, and a nodule on its end opened to reveal a hard, black, curved blade, as sharp as a hunting knife. It slit her belly open, and dozens of other tendrils squeezed into the opening, feeding on her internal organs. She made a rich and satisfying meal. *** Loopy was taken back to Jefferson Parish, to be arraigned for the murder of Elsie Genisse and as a co-conspirator in the murder of a stripper who was identified only as Lulu. He was placed in a hospital, where doctors determined that his eyes had been irreparably damaged. He would be blind for the rest of his life. Loopy was never convicted of any of the charges against him. A videotape found in the motel room he shared with two other men showed the young woman named Lulu being devoured by alligators, but there was no conclusive evidence that he planned or played an active role in her death. In fact, authorities never determined precisely where the crime was committed. As for Elsie Genisse, her body was never found. No body, no murder. And nothing came of the idea of prosecuting Loopy for the murders of Joe Joe Boudreaux and Irv Moscow and of the two deputies at Stevenson's place. The fingerprints on the murder weapons - the TV set and metal stand at the Stay Awhile motel and the shotgun at Stevenson's store - weren't Loopy's. In fact, they were those of someone quite small, perhaps even a woman, which didn't make any sense at all. As for Stevenson's death, that was probably murder, but it looked like an accident, so prosecution was problematical. So Loopy ended up in the forensic unit of a state mental hospital in North Felicity Parish. There, he was routinely abused by both staff and other patients. It was fun tormenting someone so big -- and so blind. ***** Two and a half years later, when autumn had brought a chill even to Louisiana, a pair of LSU students out on a photo expedition wandered down a country lane that led to an old, dilapidated barn. It had been covered with kudzu, but most of the vines had died and turned brown. They were shooting the barn with a wide-angle lens when one of the students, a young man named Hank, spotted what looked like bones behind the dried leaves. "Patsy," he said in a tense voice. "Look carefully at the vines on side of the barn. What do you see?" Patsy, an attractive young woman with long blonde hair and an easy smile, looked where her partner was pointing. Her mouth fell open. "See what I mean?" Hank said. "My God, it's a skeleton," Patsy said. "A human skeleton." She moved closer, then reached out and touched the wrist bones of what was left of Elsie. The hand fell off the skeleton, and Patsy jumped backward. "Don't touch it," Hank said. "We need to go to the police." *** The discovery of Elsie's remains reopened the legal case against Loopy. But by then he was determined to be hopelessly insane. Patsy was never the same after finding Elsie's bones. She began talking and acting strangely. Her conversations were sprinkled with fragments of books she had read and songs she had heard. Hank found he constantly had to apologize to friends for her odd behavior. On the other hand, as he put it in a song that he recorded in a Baton Rouge studio and that enjoyed brief local notoriety, "Her fuckin' is out of this world." THE END ~~~~~~
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