Bottom Feeder (2 page)

As Nina ran toward her, she considered the
fact that she just might be losing her mind. What the hell did she
think she was going to do, rob Lervette? The old heifer had said
she had to get clothes off the line before it rained, but Nina had
no idea where that might be. For all she knew, Lervette might be on
her way back to the house now.

The girl nodded, then turned and went into
the house as soon as Nina reached the front steps.

“Wait for me,” Nina whispered loudly, trying
to look everywhere at once. So far, there’d been no sign of
Lervette, which made her nervous. Unless hidden by a house, how did
a four hundred pound woman manage
not
to be seen? Suppose
the kid had some warped idea of fun and games, and Lervette was
already inside?

“This way—now.”

Hearing the urgency in the girl’s voice, Nina
figured she had little to lose. Besides, if Lervette caught her,
she could always come up with a lie about what she was doing in the
house. A loud crack of thunder made her jump. When her heart
settled back into place, she shot one more nervous glance over her
shoulder, then went inside.

The living room was small and cramped with
too much furniture. Dark paneled walls gave the place an even
darker, dank feel. Not seeing the girl, Nina stood quietly,
listening, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. She heard a clock
ticking somewhere in the house—the soft creak of wood—the
plop-ploop
of water dripping from a leaky faucet. Gathering
up what nerve she had left, Nina finally whispered, “Where are
you?”

Lightning struck again, this time closer to
the house, flashing bright white light through the windows. That’s
when Nina noticed the pictures, two dozen or more sitting atop an
occasional table near a hall entrance. All but one was small and
framed, and they formed a semi-circle around one larger photo,
which was that of a man with short, wiry hair and a wide nose that
had a large mole on the left side of it. It made Nina think of
Maudwan, and she inched closer, curious.

All of the smaller pictures were of women,
most of them Caucasian and blond, like her, all of them with blue
eyes—like her—
like the smaller pigs
—and none of them
smiling. In fact, most of them looked frightened by something
behind the camera, especially the pregnant one in the first picture
on the right.

“He was bad.”

Startled, Nina slapped a hand over her mouth
to hold back a scream.

The girl stood in the hallway, her face
hidden in shadows. “He was bad,” she said again. “Bad . . . touched
them in a nasty place, so she punished him. Them too, she punished
them, too, but worse. Only some of them, though. Just some of
them.”

With her heart hammering in her ears, Nina
glanced from the girl to the picture of the man, back to the girl.
“Lervette you mean? She punished the man in the picture?”

The girl nodded. “He was bad. She said words
and punished him. Now he has to eat from the bottom. They have to
feed him from the bottom. Not all of them, though. Not all.”
Suddenly the girl’s face appeared, her eyes wide, frightened.
“Hurry, the chair!”

Nina whirled about, expecting to see Lervette
standing behind her.

But no one was there.

Lightning struck again, followed by a loud
clap of thunder. Trembling now, Nina turned back toward the girl.
“What—”

The hallway was empty.

Something creaked behind her, and Nina held
her breath, muscles tensing, all of them ready to send her body
bolting with one command. She glanced back and saw a wide-seated,
cushioned rocking chair, tipping back and forth with no one in
it.

“Sh-shit,” she muttered, and took a step
back. The chair rocked faster—faster still—until the momentum grew
so frantic the cushion flopped up and down on the seat. As she
tried to figure out how to get out of the house without having to
go near the chair, something white flew out from under the cushion
and sailed across floor. It landed inches from her feet—a bank
envelope, with something in it.

“Get it—go!” The girl again, only her voice
sounded like it was coming from all directions. “Take it
now—now—go! Go!”

Nina scooped up the envelope, shoved it into
one of the back pockets of her jeans, and ran for the front door.
No sooner did she clear the steps than she heard an angry voice
roar behind her.

“What the hell was you doin’ in my house, you
little whore?”

She didn’t need to look back to know it was
Lervette. Nina willed more speed to her feet, not sure where she
was running to. A few fat raindrops plopped onto her arm, the back
of her t-shirt. She chanced a peek over her shoulder and saw
Lervette not far behind. The woman was red-faced and puffing, jowls
and arm-flaps jiggling wildly, but she was keeping up—and
brandishing a small hatchet in her right hand.

“Jesus!” Nina took an abrupt right, hoping to
throw the woman off gait. It didn’t work. Lervette followed hard
and fast and even appeared to be gaining ground. How the hell was
that possible?

Swerving left, Nina spotted the little girl
standing out by the open door of the feed shed, signaling for her
to come that way. Was the kid nuts? There were no hiding places in
the shed. Just open space and barrels of crap that smelled worse
than crap—and tools. Nina suddenly remembered the tools on the
shelves—sharp tools, pointed tools. If she couldn’t outrun the fat
bitch, she’d need a weapon. She lowered her head and raced for the
shed.

As soon as she made it inside the building,
Nina went straight for a pair of gardening sheers. Only after she
had a firm grip on her newfound sword did it register that the girl
wasn’t anywhere around. Rain suddenly pummeled the roof, and she
heard her nemesis shouting.

“Just as soon quit runnin’, you piggy whore,
‘cause I gotcha now!” Lervette suddenly filled the doorway,
drenched, wild-eyed, and hatchet in hand.

With nowhere to run, Nina stood her ground
and aimed the sheers at her. “Stay away from me!”

Lervette sneered. “What you gonna do wit’ dat
toy, piggy whore? Cut my hair?” She pointed the hatchet at Nina and
took a couple steps toward her, sneakers making squishing sounds as
she walked. “I t’ink I’m de one’s gonna do a better job
cuttin’.

Nina stepped to the left so she stood behind
the barrels. Lervette would have to go around them to get to her.
If the woman attacked from the left, she’d go right and vice versa.
Either way would give her time to reach the door.

Lervette shook her head, and rainwater flew
from her short gray hair. “I got enough of you whores prancin’ into
town wit’ y’all skinny butts and big titties, always turnin’ my
man’s head where it ain’t suppose to turn. I’m not gonna let it
happen no more, you hear me? You
hear
me?” Rage turned her
face three different shades of red.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nina
cried. “I haven’t even
seen
a man here!”

Snorting loudly, Lervette swung the hatchet
like she meant to slice air. “Oh, you seen my man, and I seen you
shakin’dem hips, too, so he’d look at you.” Then without warning,
she darted right and headed around the barrels.

Nina shrieked and bolted left. Before she
could reach the straight away to the door, Lervette swiveled on her
heels and swung the hatchet out wide, missing Nina by a few
inches.

Throwing herself across the threshold like a
runner crossing a taped finish line, Nina tumbled onto the
rain-soaked yard. Her feet slipped out from under her, and she
landed on her back, air whooshing out of her lungs. She gasped for
air, struggling to get up, hands and feet slipping and sliding like
she was trying to climb glass. All the while she expected to feel
the weight of Lervette’s hatchet crash into her skull any second,
splitting it open. Just as Nina managed to find firm footing,
someone grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back to the
ground.

“I told you you wasn’t goin’ anywhere, piggy
whore,” Lervette said, a meaty fist wrapped in Nina’s hair. She
jerked hard, dragging her across the ground, back to the shed.

Nina screamed and thrashed, back-pedaling
with her feet so her body would keep up with Lervette’s pulling.
“L-Let me go, goddammit! Let go!”

“Shut you mout’, tramp,” Lervette shouted
over the whoosh of rain and wind. “I’m gonna let you go when I’m
good and ready, and it ain’t yet.”

The next thing Nina knew they were inside the
feed shed and she was being forced to sit in one of the
straight-back chairs near the table. She bucked and twisted as
Lervette tried pinning her arms back behind the chair.

“Hold still, pig bitch!” Lervette yelled,
then slapped Nina across the face hard. The back swing from her
meaty hand came by way of a fist, and silver sparkles shot across
Nina’s field of vision as it connected with her left cheek.

Her arms were yanked behind her—something
rough, scratchy wrapped around her wrists. The heft and mass of
Lervette’s body pressed into Nina’s face as the woman leaned into
her, securing her to the chair. As soon as Lervette backed away,
she slapped a piece of duct tape across Nina’s mouth.

Obviously satisfied with herself, Lervette
grinned and brushed her hands together as if ridding them of dust.
“Let’s see how much you gonna shake dat scrawny ass now,
piggy-piggy.” The hatchet appeared again, and Lervette slapped the
flat of it against the palm of her left hand. “I t’ink first we
gonna have to take a little bit off de top.” Her face hardened, and
she raised the hatched so the blunt backside of it faced Nina. Then
she pivoted, like a golfer, and slammed the block of iron into the
side of Nina’s left breast.

Shock—fire—pain—God, so much pain—The scream
forcing its way from Nina’s lungs got trapped behind the duct tape,
making it sound like air whining through a tight-necked balloon.
Sparkles turned to black, strobing orbs—then the thick, sweaty face
of Lervette Patin.

Lervette grabbed Nina’s chin and forced her
to look up at her. “Now what we gonna do wit’ you, piggy-piggy?
Bottom or top?” She pursed her lips and leaned closer until her
nose nearly touched Nina’s cheek. “Hmm—hmm? Guess we gonna have to
see . . .” She shook Nina’s chin roughly, then released it.

Stomping over to the storage shelves,
Lervette grabbed a tin can, then marched over to the barrels and
dunked the can into the one that was already open. She carried the
swill over to Nina and shoved it under her nose.

Unable to minimize the horrendous smell by
breathing through her mouth, Nina jerked her head away and kicked
out, trying to move the chair backwards with her feet.

“No, no, you need to get you a good whiff,
piggy, a good one.” Lervette kept the can pressed under Nina’s
nose. Swill sloshed onto her chin, slid down her neck, splashed
onto her t-shirt.

Gagging and retching behind the duct tape,
Nina thought she’d surely suffocate when Lervette suddenly ripped
the duct tape off her mouth. Nina’s gasped—gagged—gasped—and
Lervette shoved the can of swill against her mouth and poured.

Hot, thick, vile liquid flooded Nina’s mouth,
some of it traveling far into her gullet before she could spit it
out. Her tongue felt coated with burning, bubbling decay. Her
stomach heaved, spewing what little she’d swallowed onto Lervette.
Seemingly nonplussed, Lervette grabbed Nina’s chin again, shoved
her head back, then let go of her chin and squeezed her nostrils
shut. Nina’s mouth sprang open reflexively, and Lervette poured in
more swill. This time, before Nina could spit it out, the woman
slapped another strip of duct tape over her mouth.

Trying not to swallow and even harder not to
cry so her nose wouldn’t get stuffy, Nina kicked and managed to
catch Lervette on the shin.

“Son-of-a-shit!” Lervette backed away,
grabbed her right knee with a hand, and hissed with pain. “Dat’s
it!” She bellowed. “You goin’ to de bottom, you son-of-a-shit pig
whore!”Standing upright, she lifted the hatchet and stumbled back a
step. “I’m gonna cut—” Lervette’s eyes suddenly grew big—“What’s
dat—” and her knees buckled, dropping her to the floor.

Behind her stood the little girl in the faded
yellow dress.

The child smiled at Nina, then lowered her
head a little, narrowed her eyes and stared at the open barrel of
swill as though her gaze alone might burn a hole through it.

Lervette was still rolling about on the
floor, grunting, cursing, struggling to get to her feet, when the
barrel began to rock from side to
side—harder—tilting—rocking—faster, swill the color of rust and
mustard splashing over the side. Then, as if someone had given it a
hard shove from behind, the barrel toppled over, spilling its
contents—thick—lumpy—crimson—across the floor and over Lervette.
What tumbled out of the metal barrel last—the good stuff at the
bottom—the stuff Lervette said Maudwan loved to eat—numbed Nina’s
senses. She stared in disbelief, whimpering. A foot, severed just
above the ankles—part of hand with three fingers, each nail painted
bright red—bones—long bones—

“Go!” The word blasted into Nina’s right ear,
and she saw the girl standing beside her, pointing past a slipping,
grunting Lervette to the open shed door. “Go!”

And just like that, Nina felt her wrists
freed from the twine, both arms plopping to her sides. Not
questioning, not thinking, Nina jumped to her feet, ripping the
tape from her mouth as she ran for the door—spitting—spitting . .
.

“You come back here!” Lervette shouted, still
scrambling in swill.

Nina ran into the rain, crying, confused,
lost. Where to go? Where was the road out of here?

“Come.”

The command was simple and echoed, like it
had been spoken in the vestibule of a cathedral. It came from the
girl, who stood beside the open gate of Maudwan’s pen. “Come,” she
said again, only her mouth didn’t move. “This way.”