"When the loving gets rough" - читать интересную книгу автора (Scope Perry)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The world was tumbling down in crazy little bits, and not all the marijuana or orgies or lies in the world would put it together again. The mass sex group had fallen away in pairs and threesomes, and even Lennie had left on the arm of the poetess, Paula. There were just the two of them left, she and Pat. Oh, yes, Karen thought, and a tiny white pill… at which Pat was now eagerly staring. The last two days had been the most profitable Pat had ever known. She had duplicated the experience under the cross many times, with many different drivers from all over town.

Pat had bought armfuls of objects, clothing and religious jewelry, buying whatever caught her eye at the moment over Karen's more practical urgings that she save her money. And now she had bought this. Acid, it was called. The magical LSD drug that she had wanted to try.

"For the last time, Pat. Please, forget it. I've read so much about LSD lately. They say it can be harmful to some people… They have no way of knowing how it will affect someone."

"Forget it? I thought we'd been through that scene already." Pat looked up at Karen resentfully. She had spent a childhood being told what to do, then was forced, sometimes brutally, into doing it. No one was ever going to tell her what to do again! Karen knew that stubborn look. She tried another ruse. "Well then, how about waiting until tomorrow? It's very late, and after all that… fun," she stumbled over the word, "and the pot, don't you think tomorrow would be better?"

"Tonight, now," Pat insisted cuttingly. She wasn't going to be talked out of what promised to be the greatest experience of her life. She regarded Karen coldly, wondering why the girl wanted to make her put off anything so wonderful. She fingered the pill eagerly, lifted a water glass at the same time, and hesitated only a moment. "Now," she said again, making it a sort of casual salute.

Karen watched her swallow the bit of pill with a great splash of water. Feeling apprehensive, Karen occupied herself with straightening the apartment. It was the only thing of her past life she had been allowed to retain and she had dawdled over her chores for as long as she possibly could.

"I've got a great idea. Come with me!" Pat was in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Oh! You startled me!" Karen noticed the heavy lidded eyes that saw and didn't see. "I didn't hear you come in."

Pat didn't seem to hear her. "Come with me! I have the most wonderful idea!" She appeared to be listening for something.

Karen was aware of the sluggishness of Pat's speech. She wanted to comment on it, but she was afraid to say anything. She was even reluctant to ask Pat how she felt.

"You want to go out?" she asked, not sure if that would be a good idea.

"Hurry!" Pat took Karen's hand and dragged her out of the house, barely giving the girl time to grab her jacket.

The dying effects of the pot were still strong enough to give the streets a fresh brightness for Karen. She wondered how they looked to Pat.

Pat hurried them to Lincoln Boulevard, the closest major street. There was almost no traffic this late. The light clicked to red as they neared the corner. Pat didn't bother pointing her thumb at the one car that stopped for the light. She went directly up to the lone driver of the car and asked him if he would give them a lift. The man looked the two girls over appreciatively and nodded. Pat jumped in to sit beside the man, her bright plaid poncho billowing out in all directions, leaving Karen to either follow or be left behind.

The car started seconds after Karen got in. "Now drive us to Hollywood," Pat ordered, her eyes two glassy hard aquamarines.

The man twisted around and looked at Pat quizzically. "I'm only going as far as Beverly Hills, girls. Sorry. I'll give you a lift to there, but…"

"I didn't ask where you were going. I said, take us to Hollywood!" Pat continued to stare straight ahead.

"Now, just a second! I don't mind doing a favor, but I'm not about to be ordered around this way. If you don't want to settle for a ride to Beverly Hills, I'll just let you out at the next corner and you can…"

"If you try to ditch us I'll scream for the first cop I see and yell rape! Don't think I won't either. My friend will be my witness. Dig?"

The man turned around. His surprise was so great he narrowly avoided colliding with a parked car. He opened his fleshy mouth to speak, but shut it again.

Karen was as surprised as the driver. She was grateful she hadn't been called on to collaborate Pat's intention. She sank down in the seat, instead, wishing the man would smack the car into a brick wall and kill them all.

"All right," the man said finally. "I know when I'm licked. Where do you want to go?" In spite of the coolness of the evening the man was sweating freely.

"Drive up Highland Avenue until you hit the freeway. You know that hill with the cross on it there? Let us off right by it." Pat laughed suddenly. It had a grating, evil sound to it.

Karen turned to Pat. She felt stunned. "What do you want?"

"Shut up!" Pat answered harshly. "This is important!"

Karen saw that Pat appeared to be concentrating on something. She didn't push it. Nothing else Pat did could be more insane than this.

The man drove them precisely to the spot Pat directed. He drove off without a word, afraid even to encourage Pat's wrath towards him as he drove away.

"Now what?" Karen wanted to know.

Pat didn't hear her. All she heard was the absurdly musical high voices which had been talking to her all evening. They were the ones who wanted her to come here. They were the ones who would tell her what to do now! And they were urging her up the grassy mountain. "Come on!" she called to Karen, hurrying ahead without looking back to see if Karen was following. "We have to climb to the cross!"

Karen stared numbly after the girl. "Climb to the cross? Are you kidding, Pat?" But the girl was running ahead, tugging at handfuls of grass and twigs to help her along. "Pat! My God! It's the middle of the night! It's almost morning!" In the distance Karen could hear the dull roaring of traffic on the freeway. Was she really only seconds away from civilization? It didn't seem possible.

"Stay, if you must. I'm going!" Pat called back raggedly. She grasped a small bush and elevated herself still higher.

Karen was tempted to stay where she was, but with the drug in Pat, and in this murky darkness, she was afraid the girl would plunge to her death unless she were there.

They climbed silently. Karen felt the moist dirt wet her clothing, grass stick to her face. She tasted clammy earth and felt nauseated. She heard Pat muttering strange things. The words "spirits" and "command" floated down to her several times. Karen felt sure she must be going mad, that she was following a mad woman to her own insanity. What am I doing here? she asked herself, nearing hysteria. It was so fantastic, climbing this hill in the darkness seconds from life as she knew it… following a girl who had awakened her body, dazzled her mind and drugged her senses. Karen, in an effort to hold on to something, anything outside this nightmare, thought of Al. She could have cried over the simplicity of their problems together. Instead of trying to help him, them, she had preferred to wallow in her own unhappiness, enlarging it, bleeding it for the subtlest masochistic thrill. Then she had simply run away, jumping willingly into a new relationship in which she could punish herself further.

Karen's hands were bleeding and sore by the time they reached and then passed the cross. Exhausted, she fell to the ground and lay there, no longer caring what Pat did. She couldn't move.

Pat, her face black with dirt and dust, came down beside her. "Now this!" she gloated, bringing her crusted lips to Karen's.

Karen felt her stomach turn when she realized Pat's intentions. She had gone through this degenerate, horrible experience for what? To make what Pat called love, their filthy bodies grinding together, on a hilltop, with a white cross as a vanguard for their conflict? Karen bit back the waves of illness which rose in her throat.

"No! Pat! No, not now, not here!" Karen found her voice had become little more than a hysterical moan. She bit back the sudden tears, the temptation to scream out her disgust. The thought of this girl touching her, attacking her flesh at this moment caused her stomach to tighten in revolt. Karen felt dirty, soiled with madness as well as faith… The dry lips now on her own sickened her. She tried to fight, but Pat was invincible, a wild animal sucking at her skin with a hunger born of desperation. She felt lips, then teeth on her neck, shoulders… The clothing was being torn from her body. She was on her back, being raped by the lust of this mad creature. Her thighs were scraped by the determined sharp teeth, she was being branded with ownership by this sex-crazed monster to whom she had given her love, for whom she had given up her marriage. The hurting teeth, the insistent tongue were inside her now, sucking without tenderness or love on her most vulnerable flesh. She wanted to die… she wanted to die… She wanted this horrible nightmare to end… she could not be further degenerated by anything, anyone. But she could not stop Pat.

The girl on top of Karen was completely without appeal for the first time. Karen wanted to fling her away. But she didn't have the strength. The sensitivity she thought she had found in Pat was in truth nothing more than insanity. Now it was easy. It was almost a relief for Karen to lose all feeling. Only a twinge of pity stayed, pity for both of them. She let Pat feed on her young body like a vulture until the morning began to unveil its first rays. Then she slept. She prayed with whatever feeling remained that she might never again awake.