Monster Nation(84)

Just' just go invisible, Nilla thought. But that was beyond her, way beyond her. She lacked the energy for it.

Mike set her down, leaning up against the side of the van. The third guy, the fidgety one'had be been driving the van? He must have been driving the van'leaped out of the back holding a shovel. 'Alright, Termite, you get to it,' Mellowman told him. He moved rapidly out of Nilla's field of vision but she could hear him digging, quite close by.

Mellowman knelt down near her and took one of the film canisters from his bandolier. He popped it open with one thumb and a complex, earthy, skunky smell came out. A vegetable smell. He dug out a finger's length of leafy green material and rolled it into a cigarette. He lit it and blew smoke in her face. 'Not much longer now. You feel like talking?'

She let her eyes go lax in their sockets. No point in looking at anything. There was nothing in this little tableau that could save her.

'I don't expect you do. Some people like to talk when they get to this point, is all, they like to confess to things, like I was a priest or somewhat. I've been out this way before, you see. I've had problems like you before. Not so much it's become a habit. You want a puff on this? Or maybe some water? Maybe, Muffin, you want to know what it's like to be with a man. You know, one last time.'

She focused her vision on him again and was surprised by what she found in his face. He looked genuinely interested. This was real to him, all of it, much more real than the people in Las Vegas lined up at the van or the danger she might have posed to his operation. No, this was a man whose life was measured in the number of times he was able to go out into the desert and do someone harm.

She could plead for her life but that was beyond pointless'he wanted her to suffer, to beg, and the more she cried the more he would want. She could ask for what she really wanted and just maybe she would get it. 'Huh, huh,' she snuffled. 'Hungry.' It came out on a long exhalation.

Mellowman shrugged. 'Yeah, whatever. Then I guess a blow job is out of the question.' It was a joke, whether or not she found it funny. Apparently he had been serious about granting her last request, though, or perhaps he just didn't care. Mike went into the van'she felt it rocking against her back as she moved around inside there'and emerged with half of a sandwich. Roast beef and mustard, by the smell. He held it near her mouth but she couldn't use her hands, couldn't even lift her arms. He had to feed it to her, disassembling the components. His motions around her were respectful, almost gentle. When she was done eating though Mellowman ordered Mike to pick her up and carry her and his hands grabbed her forcefully under her armpits.

Nilla.

Mael's voice in her head sounded distorted, fuzzy on the low end. It irritated her, itched in one corner of her brain, the left side high up. She felt the buzz in her teeth.

Nilla, Dick's on the road to you but I doubt he'll arrive in time. There's something else I can try, but no guarantees, lass. Do you understand? It may be as I can't get you out of this one.

She understood. She was grateful he was with her there at the end.

Mike and the other one, the twitchy guy, lowered her into the grave, a hole maybe three feet deep in the sand. The half of a sandwich she'd eaten had given her a little strength back, enough to sit up anyway.

Mellowman broke open his shotgun and loaded in a pair of shells. When he sighted down the barrels at her his free eye was wide with excitement. He was going to enjoy this, she saw, and she was certain by the way he looked at her, that and no other evidence, that of all the people he had killed and buried in shallow graves before none of them had been women. And that this simple fact made all the world of difference to him.

This was a man who had always counted on himself first. Who had never believed that other people were worth the time it took to learn their names, not when you could make up new ones for them and they just took it and smiled like they liked it. This was the kind of man for whom the end of the world meant the beginning of all possibilities. Breaking the law was a game. Selling drugs was a great way to make money because people wanted drugs and what was good or bad for them meant nothing whatsoever. The kind of man who could kill just to see what it felt like.

It was funny how being so close to death concentrated her perceptions. She felt like she could look right into the souls of the men around her. How much of it was her reading their energy, their auras, and how much was just pure imagination she didn't know. Mellowman placed the end of the shotgun against her forehead and braced himself against the recoil. Nilla had been in that position before. Men seemed to like her in that position. Go invisible, she told herself, but she couldn't. The sandwich hadn't been enough, it hadn't bolstered her energy enough to let her do that.