vaguely.
When he was done vomiting, he wiped his teary eyes. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, blew his nose, and cleaned his mouth and chin. Then he sat up.
He saw Julie naked on the ground.
He remembered.
The men!
He looked around quickly, making his head whirl. The men seemed to be gone.
“Julie!” he yelled.
She didn’t move. She was sprawled on her back a few yards away. She still had her knee socks on. And one shoe. Her blouse lay in a heap near her head. Her shorts were on the ground dose to the shoe that was off.
Don’t look at her, Rick warned himself. She’s naked. God, naked. You might get turned on, and if you hadn’t been looking at her yesterday, trying to see up her shorts ...
As sick as he felt, and as guilty and frightened, he realized there was little need to worry about becoming aroused.
From where he sat, Rick didn’t see any blood on her. But she didn’t look right.
“Julie?” he asked again.
She’s just out cold, he told himself. Like I was. That’s good. Maybe she’d been unconscious while the men did things to her. They must have done things to her, or why were her clothes off?
When she woke up, she would know.
It’ll be all right, Rick thought. I’ll take good care of her. I’ll cover her first. That’s the first thing I’ll do, so I won’t keep looking at her.
Cringing as the pains in his head and leg punished him with burning throbs, he thrust himself up with his crutch. Another wave of dizziness came. He swayed, barely staying up as the ground tipped and turned. When the dizziness passed, he hobbled over to Julie.
She had a dark bruise where the walking stick had hit her under the chin. Her eyes were shut. Her lips and cheeks were crusted with something, as if white glue had been squirted around her mouth and dried. Rick wondered what it was. Then he knew.
Gagging, he turned his eyes quickly away from her face. But what he saw only added to his disgust and horror. The skin of her shoulders was bruised and dented from bites. Her breasts still held the imprint of fingers, as if they had been fiercely squeezed. Fingernails had left tiny, crescent-shaped impressions. Her nipples looked chewed. Rick covered his mouth and shut his eyes. But he had to look again. Lower, she was caked with dried blood and more semen. Rick had never seen that part of a woman before, just in a few pictures.
Embarrassment suddenly pushed its way through Rick’s other agony. Even though he wasn’t turned on, what if Julie woke up and saw him staring there?
He bent over and lost his balance. Though he waved an arm to steady himself, he knew it was useless. He flung the crutch from his other hand and reached beyond Julie as he fell. For a moment, he was braced above her like a bridge. But his left leg gave out as pain blasted up it. He collapsed. He fell on Julie.
He started to cry.
She was naked, and Rick had nothing on but swimming trunks, and he was lying on her. Her bare skin against him. He could feel the jut of her hipbone, her flat belly, her ribcage. He could feel a breast against this side, just below his armpit.
If she comes to now ...
There was no movement under Rick.
No rise and fall of Julie breathing.
Of course she’s breathing, he thought.
But she wasn’t ...
Rick’s mind seemed to freeze. He shoved himself off Julie, rolled onto his side with his head resting on her outstretched arm. He saw his hand reach out as if it belonged to someone else. It curled around her throat. His fingers searched for the feel of blood pumping through arteries and veins below her jaw.
Then he was up on an elbow, sobbing as he shook Julie by the shoulder. Her head wobbled from side to side. He waited for her eyes to open.
They didn’t.
They never would.
Chapter Seven
Gillian’s first task, after securing the house, was to determine the name of its owner.
On the coffee table were several magazines: People, Playboy, Los Angeles and Newsweek. They had apparently been
László Krasznahorkai
Victor Pemberton
MJ Nightingale
Sarah Perry
Lauren Baratz-Logsted
Mia Marlowe
John D. MacDonald
Robert A. Heinlein
Cheryl Brooks
Jerramy Fine