Part 33 (2/2)
Maledicta laughed. ”f.u.c.k you.”
There was a gas station and convenience store right next to the west bridge; Maledicta drove in there and pulled up to the self-service pumps. She started one of the pumps running, using a Sh.e.l.l credit card that Mouse had never seen before (come to think of it, Mouse couldn't specifically recall ever buying gas before). While the Buick's tank filled, she went into the convenience store to get junk food and cigarettes.
As Maledicta pawed through a Hostess display rack, Mouse made another attempt to retake control of the body. No use: it was as though an invisible barrier had been stretched across the cave mouth, a force field that only got stronger the harder she fought against it.
”Give it up, f.u.c.king give it up, baby. . .” Maledicta sang. She went to the register and tossed two packages of Ding Dongs on the counter. ”Winstons,” she told the clerk. ”Unfiltered.”
The clerk reached up to a rack above his head. Mouse, still pus.h.i.+ng futilely against the barrier, tried calling to him: ”Help!. . . Help!” The clerk dropped Maledicta's Winstons next to the Ding Dongs and began ringing up the purchase.
”Hey,” Maledicta asked him, ”do you hear something?”
The clerk gave her a blank look. ”Like what?”
”Sounded like a f.u.c.king mouse squeaking.”
”Probably just my new shoes,” the clerk said. He demonstrated by squeaking a heel against the floor behind the counter.
”Yeah,” Maledicta laughed, ”that must be it.”
Maledicta paid and returned to the car. Mouse, defeated, tried to resign herself to captivity inside her own head. But when Maledicta still didn't head for the Interstate, Mouse lost her composure again: ”What are you doing?”
”Jesus f.u.c.king Christ,” Maledicta said, puffing on one of her new Winstons. ”Get off my a.s.s.”
”We're supposed to be following Andrew! We --”
”I want to get a f.u.c.king drink first.”
”There's no time for that!”
”If you don't get off my f.u.c.king a.s.s,” Maledicta warned, ”I'm going to stop the f.u.c.king car and not go another mile until I smoke every f.u.c.king cigarette in this pack. And then I'm still going to get a drink. You can't f.u.c.king handle that, then go back down in the cave and sleep -- it's what you're f.u.c.king best at anyway.”
There was a liquor store on Bridge Street, but it had closed at nine o'clock, so Maledicta went to a bar instead. As they swung around to park, Mouse recognized Julie Sivik's Cadillac among the other cars along the curb. She thought she might have seen Julie sitting in the Cadillac, too, but because Maledicta controlled the view, Mouse couldn't look around to make sure.
”Hey,” said Mouse, as Maledicta lit a fresh cigarette and hopped out of the Buick. ”Hey wait, turn right, is that Julie over there?”
”Who the f.u.c.k cares?” Maledicta said, and entered the bar.
This late on a weeknight, the bar was almost empty -- just a few couples in booths (including a raucous pair of drunks near the back), and no one at all at the bar counter except the woman tending it.
The bartender was a vampire: white skin, black hair, black eye shadow, black lipstick, black nail polish, and stainless-steel piercings in her nose, eyebrows, and both cheeks. Mouse thought she looked hideous. Maledicta thought she looked hideous, too, and for that very reason warmed to her -- briefly.
”Popov,” Maledicta said, stepping up to the bar. ”No ice.”
”Ah,” said the vampire, sourly. ”The good stuff.”
As the vampire poured her a shot of cheap vodka, Maledicta asked: ”How much for the whole f.u.c.king bottle, to go?”
”We don't do carry-out,” the vampire informed her. ”Liquor store's down the street.”
”Liquor store's closed,” Maledicta said.
”Well, that's too bad then, huh?”
”I'll give you forty f.u.c.king dollars,” Maledicta offered, holding up Mouse's wallet.
”Wow!” exclaimed the vampire sarcastically. ”Forty f.u.c.king dollars! Let me think about it. . .
no!”
”Lousy c.u.n.t,” Maledicta muttered, as the vampire replaced the bottle on its shelf. She picked up the shot and downed it in one angry gulp. Up in the cave mouth, Mouse heard a soft sc.r.a.ping sound and saw Malefica come crawling forward, panther-like.
Then someone behind them said: ”Mouse?”
Maledicta looked around. It was Julie Sivik. ”f.u.c.k off,” Maledicta greeted her, and turned back to the bar.
”Maledicta,” said Julie.
Maledicta turned around again. ”Well,” she said, ”I see somebody's got a big f.u.c.king mouth.”
Then she shrugged, and held up her shot gla.s.s. ”You drinking?”
”What?” said Julie, as if she hadn't noticed they were in a bar. ”Oh. . . oh G.o.d, no, no more for me tonight. The past couple hours I've been, well, hiding, I guess. . . but I'm on my way home now, so I just thought I'd stop and get my car, and then I saw you coming in here. . .”
”Uh-huh,” Maledicta said, already bored with this story.
”Anyway, listen, have you seen Andrew? I don't want to see him,” Julie added hastily, ”but I'm a little worried about him, and I wanted to make sure he made it home OK. And I thought, if you're still here in town this time of night -- ”
”You're the one who got him s.h.i.+tfaced,” Maledicta guessed. ”Good f.u.c.king job.”
”s.h.i.+tfaced,” Julie echoed. ”So you have seen him, then. . .”
”f.u.c.k yeah,” said Maledicta, grinning. ”We saw him.”
”Is he OK? Did he get home?”
”For about ten seconds,” Maledicta told her. ”Then he f.u.c.king took off again.”
”Took off?”
”He said he was leaving town. . . what the f.u.c.k did you do to him, anyway? I've never seen anyone so f.u.c.king upset before.”
”Don't do this,” Mouse spoke up, from the cave mouth. ”This is mean.”
”He told you he was leaving town?” said Julie. ”What does that -- you don't mean leaving for good, do you?”
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