"Jesus Christ Almighty," Suck said, agawk and fanning his own foul fumes, "I can't take no more of this crazy s.h.i.t."

Piggy p.o.o.p opened her eyes. She thought she could feel her lips forming a smile. Crazy s.h.i.t had always been her thing. Her forte, her raison d'etre. (Funny she could remember a French phrase but couldn't remember being anybody other than Piggy p.o.o.p. Though she was sure she'd had another name. A real name. Oh well. Piggy p.o.o.p would do as her nom de guerre. Huh? Merde! There was another one. Maybe she was French?) Before she could get up, the guy with the log-turned-cudgel said, "I'm gonna f.u.c.k this gimpy b.i.t.c.h sideways" and walloped her again.

Then the dead man in the blanket sat up and eyeballed his former companions with gimlet eyes and a crooked mouth. The gaping wound in his cheek looked like a second mouth, toothless, raw gums shining wetly in the moonlight.

9.

Incident At Mo' Tail Motel

"... also said they are looking for a very tall man in a red hooded sweatshirt. Officials would neither confirm nor deny the possibility of related terrorist acts, saying only that the hooded man is at this time a 'person of interest' in some of these incidents."

"Turn that down, dammit," said Jamie, standing naked at the window and peeping through the curtains as she smoked a Virginia Slim. "I can't hear what they're saying."

"Don't let them see you naked," Thomas cautioned her as he decreased the volume with the remote.

"Why would they give a s.h.i.t? I'm not breaking any law here. They don't arrest people for adultery. h.e.l.l, they'd probably appreciate a peek at my goodies. I do look pretty d.a.m.n good, ya know."

The only light in the room flickered from the TV screen. Outside, flashing blue light from two cop cruisers lapped at the room's windows as if it wanted in.

"According to the news, weird things are happening all across the border and on into the interior," he said from the bed. "Reports of the rapid spread of an unknown disease, unexplained outbreaks of violence. A health official said the disease appears to mimic death, in some cases."

"You heard all that while I was in the bathroom? Jeez." She reached back and swiped her fingers between her a.s.s cheeks. "And I've still got your s.p.u.n.k leaking out of my b.u.m."

"What are they doing out there?"

"Why don't you come look?"

"I don't want anybody to recognize me."

"Don't worry, you're not that famous, Reverend."

"Just tell me."

She exhaled a smoky sigh. "Two cops are talking to the night manager and the other two are still in the room. I could hear them talking through the wall before you turned the TV up so d.a.m.n loud. Oh goody, here comes the ambulance. Now maybe we'll get a look at what they roll out."

A scream came through the wall from the room next door. A m.u.f.fled shout, then two loud gunshots.

"Holy s.h.i.t!" Jamie said. Then she doubled over, clutching her belly.

Thomas jumped out of bed. "What? Are you shot?"

She shook her head. Gasped: "Cramps. Bad ones."

As if a switch had been flipped, she started shivering. Her teeth chattered. Thomas wrapped his arms around her and pressed his nakedness against hers to warm her. "Back to bed and cover up. Whatever you're coming down with, it sure came on fast. It couldn't be any sort of toxic shock, could it? From what we did? The a.n.a.l thing?"

"No, you idiot," she chattered. "I'll be fine. You watch at the window. See what the h.e.l.l's happening."

"We should get out of here. A bullet could come through the wall."

"I can't, not yet. After these shakes stop maybe. Aspirin. In my bag. Gla.s.s of water."

He put her to bed and gave her two aspirin tablets. She gulped them with water out of a plastic cup from the bathroom. Thomas slipped into his boxers and stationed himself at the window.

"See anything?" Jamie asked, huddled and shuddering hard beneath the covers.

"No, just the police cars and ambulance. Whoa, wait. They're bringing out the stretcher. Body's covered up, purple blanket. Head covered too. That means deceased. Guess they had to shoot him, whoever it was."

Jamie grunted. Her teeth kept up their chattering racket.

Thomas suddenly stiffened his spine. "Good Lord! What in the name of ... ? Unbelievable. The guy under the blanket isn't dead. He's trying to get up off the stretcher. He's ... his face. No way he could be alive."

Jamie said, "Come. Hold me. I need a warm body. I'm so c-c-c-cold."

"Whoa. They're buckling him down with extra straps. Sweet Jesus, half his face is missing."

"Tommy ..."

"Yeah, just a sec."

"Cold."

"Oh! A cop just clubbed him. A good one upside the head. d.a.m.n!"

"Tommy ..."

"Now they'll get him in the ambulance. They subdued the s.h.i.t out of him. So much for being dead. It must be the mystery disease they were talking about on TV. Said it mimicked death. I hope to G.o.d that's not what you have."

"Just a bug. Hold me. I can't seem to get warm."

He stepped out of his shorts and slipped under the covers. He held her tightly and vigorously rubbed her everywhere his hands could reach. "Better?"

"Maybe a little. Don't stop."

"Uh-oh, I'm getting another erection. Sorry. It's just-"

"Fu-fu-fu-f.u.c.k me. I feel so empty. I ne-ne-need you inside me."

"You sure you're up to it? Maybe that's not such a good idea."

"f.u.c.k me, d-d-d.a.m.n you."

He gave her a crooked grin. "Yes ma'am. You're the boss."

He rolled on top of her and she took him in both hands and pushed him inside.

"I think you need a little lubricant this time," he said.

"No. Stay there. f.u.c.k me. f.u.c.k me hard so I can feel it. I want it rough. Are you still in? I can't feel you."

"Yes, I'm in. Don't belittle Mr. w.i.l.l.y. He's sensitive to that kind of thing." His chuckle rang hollow.

"G.o.d," she said, her inflection inching closer to the realm of hysteria, "I'm going numb all over. What's happening?"

"Shush. It's all right. You'll be fine."

"No I won't be fine. What's happening to me? Tommy?"

"I'm right here. Take it easy. Just rest."

Her shudders became more violent, and then finally subsided. She shut her eyes and drifted toward sleep. He did not shrink inside her. His erection sustained itself through the magic of modern chemistry. He shut his eyes and listened to the low-volume voice on the cable news channel. The anchorman said, "Joining us by phone is Reverend Barry Grayson. Reverend Grayson, I understand you have a different take on the extraordinary events unfolding as we speak. You believe there may be a link between the mysterious outbreak along the southwest border and the unexplained spectacle of the so-called eye in the sky."

Grayson said, "That's right, Bret, I do. In fact, I think it's obvious that what we're witnessing is the beginning of End Times. Nonbelievers in the secular world will mock me for saying so and pooh-pooh it on reflex, but I believe with all my heart and soul that the End of Days is upon us. As prophesied in the Abrahamic religions, the doomsday scenario is about to play itself out on the world's stage. Whether Christian, Muslim or Jew, you can't look up at that magnificent eye in the sky and deny that it is the very eye of G.o.d. For these be the days of vengeance, that all things which are written may be fulfilled. The message couldn't be clearer, Bret. As it is written in scripture, Men's hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken. And then shall they see the Son of man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. G.o.d's judgment is at hand. Fall on your knees and pray for forgiveness. I don't believe we have much time."

Thomas whispered, "Amen, brother."

His p.e.n.i.s remained stubbornly erect inside his unconscious lover.

He remembered that a possible sideffect of Cialis was priapism, an erection that would not go away for hours.

Was the little yellow caplet (Jamie had jokingly called it his "hamburger helper") putting too much lead in his pencil, he wondered.

But he didn't trouble himself long with worry. Feeling unaccountably fatigued, he fell asleep with his hard-on held firmly within the folds of Jamie's s.e.x.

10.

f.u.c.k Me Dead.

Piggy p.o.o.p stayed on the ground and didn't try to resist as the b.u.m unzipped and stuck his p.r.i.c.k into the hole in her head. It was an odd sensation, nothing much s.e.xual about it, but not unpleasant for an erstwhile antichrist and former Goth chick with a death wish. It reminded her vaguely of the recreational cutting she used to do on her flesh with a razor blade, except that the skull-f.u.c.king didn't hurt. Come to that, nothing much hurt her now. Weird. As s.h.i.t. And getting weirder.

The dude's d.i.c.k made squishing sounds against her exposed brain. "f.u.c.king your brains out, c.u.n.t," he said and laughed between ugly grunts of piggish pa.s.sion.

Piggy smiled, or thought she did, it was hard to tell because she was pretty much numb all over, physical sensations dulled by death-or whatever this was. It was certainly some variation of death because you sure as s.h.i.t couldn't call this living. But smile she did, or tried to. She'd always wanted her brains f.u.c.ked out. Not necessarily by a stinking hobo but beggars and dead girls couldn't be choosers. She would let the guy get his nut and then she would have his nuts and his c.o.c.k too, as appetizers. After that she would make a feast of his choicest parts before he died. The b.u.m with the s.h.i.tty britches was not on her menu. And for the moment Suck was busy wrestling with Sick, trying to keep him on the ground and wrapped in the blanket. Suck was apparently so dense that he didn't know, as Piggy did, that Sick was like her-some kind of dead.

Sop was on his knees with his loins bridging the back of Piggy's head and his hands resting on the ground as he made short thrusts into her head, the tip of his p.r.i.c.k hammering her brain as he worked the narrow fissure in her skull. He made nastier grunting noises and occasionally snorted like a rooting pig as he got closer to getting his nut.

The way Piggy p.o.o.p was positioned, she had a good view of Suck and Sick going at each other, s.h.i.tty Suck having the upper hand because Sick was half swaddled in the blanket and couldn't get clear enough to win the advantage and do what Piggy knew he so wanted to do to his opponent with the beating heart and tantalizing living flesh.

"I don't know why you ain't dead, b.i.t.c.h," the brain-f.u.c.ker sweet talked her, "but this is the best brain I ever had, haw hee haw."

Getting into the spirit of the crazy-a.s.s moment, Piggy said, "f.u.c.k me dead," or tried to. What came out as a whisper was more like "Uck ee edd."

"I wouldn't touch your s.k.a.n.ky p.u.s.s.y," he said, "with Sambo's d.i.c.k but your skull hole is sweet. d.a.m.n!"

"f.u.c.k me dead, c.o.c.ksucker." Which of course hissed out as "Uck ee edd, ock ucka."

"Here it comes, you r.e.t.a.r.d wh.o.r.e. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaaa ..."

PART II.

AFTERDEATH.

And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and h.e.l.l delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.

-Revelation 20:13.

11.

Terror Man.

Nadif Awad was a long way from Somaliland. It was a strange and winding path that brought him from his African homeland to the border of the United States, land of infidels and corrupt kingdom of the Great Satan. It was not until he came to understand that the stoning death of his betrothed Aziza was the will of Allah that Nadif was ready to join the Grand Jihad and to take the attack to America. Now whenever he relived in nightmares the stoning of his beloved Aziza, he turned his resulting anger on all enemies of Islam and blamed them, however indirectly, for her death. Such anger was useful to a warrior.

She was buried up to her neck in the ground and killed by the hurled rocks that turned her beautiful face into a b.l.o.o.d.y abomination because she had been gang-raped by G.o.dless thugs. Nadif didn't precisely see the justice in her punishment, nor understand how it was that she deserved to die for having been raped, but who was he to argue with an imam whose devotion to the laws of sharia was unimpeachable?

Had Aziza not died, Nadif would not have joined Harakat al-Shabaab Mujahideen, Movement of Warrior Youth. Her death had left him ripe for recruitment.