Chapter Eleven
October 24th, 12:21 AM.
Just then, the barn door creaked. Jackson dropped the cell phone to his side and turned around. Sure enough, the door had opened, maybe just an inch or two.
"Clayton?" Jackson said. He stepped toward the door gingerly. "That you Clayton?"
He peered out of the crack of the door into the night, shaking his head. "Hey Clayton," he said. Erin watched him open the door and step outside, keeping one hand on the other barn door.
And then she heard Jackson scream, saw him stumble clumsily back into the barn, dropping the cell phone to the floor, clutching his neck with his hand. And Erin saw, seconds later, Margot open the door and step inside. Her hair was a mess and her boots and jeans were caked with mud. She wore a black mask and carried a taser. Her expression was focused, determined. She set her eyes for a brief moment on Erin, nodded, and then brought her attention back to Jackson, who was stumbling around in a circle, holding his neck, emitting sounds of pain.
"Goddammit!" he said. "What is WITH you bitches and those things?"
Margot didn't reply. She ran at Jackson and threw all of her weight at his skinny frame. The impact sent Jackson to the ground. He splayed on the floor, convulsing in agony, and opened up his legs so that Margot could deliver a powerful kick to his crotch.
"AUGGGHHHH!" Jackson cried out, his hands going instantly to where the pain was.
Margot turned around quickly. She looked at Erin, noticed she was missing her belt, and then turned around to see a table. On it were various farm implements and Blue Lynx's belt and mask. Margot sped over to the table, opened one of the flaps on Erin's belt, and came out with a small coil of wire. She then ran over to Jackson, still gripping at his groin, and bent down. She tried to flip him over on his stomach. But as her hands got a grip on the underside of Jackson's body, Jackson's had darted out and snagged hold of your wrist.
"Fuck you," he said. And with his free hand, Jackson punched Margot hard in the face, so that she fell from her kneeling position, spun around, and landed on her breasts.
"Margot!" Erin cried.
"That's her name then?" Jackson said, pushing himself into sitting position. Margot lay on the floor, still breathing, uttering low, pained sounds. Jackson looked at her prone body and tried to force a smile, but he winced with the effort. He rolled over on his hands and knees and crawled toward where Margot lay.
"Margot! Get up!" Erin said. She shook at her bonds, put all of her strength into separating the ropes on her ankles. But there was simply nothing she could do. She was helpless. And she could not help her friend.
Jackson was now straddling Margot's body, pushing her by the shoulder so that she could look up into his eyes. "Hey babe," he said.
Margot attempted to push the taser in his neck again, but her movements had slowed, and Jackson easily anticipated the attack, forced the taser from her fingers, and hurled into the corner of the barn.
"I had yer friend just like this just a couple hours ago," Jackson said to Margot, pushing one wrist to the floor, keeping eye contact, searching for Margot's other hand. "Call it Deja Vu."
Margot squirmed. She still had one had free, and she still had her knife in the pocket of her jeans. If she could only reach it...
Jackson stopped looking for Margot's arm and placed his rough hand on her face. "Your friend already knows it, but I can't stand these mask things," he laughed. He poked his fingers under Margot's mask. "I took hers, and now I'm taking yours." And, in one swift motion, he ripped the mask from her face, and let it float to the ground, gently as a feather. Margot felt the cold air get colder as it touched the exposed skin of her mask-less face.
"Hot damn," Jackson said, squeezing Margot's cheeks. "Yer just about as hot as she is."
"Jackson!" Erin cried. "Get off of her! She's not your problem! Deal with me!"
"Oh, I will be dealin with you," Jackson said. "But can't ya see I'm a little busy?"
"Jackson!" Erin cried. "Jackson!" But Jackson had tuned her out. His lustful thoughts had just one target at the moment: the hot girl in the black sweater struggling just beneath his weight. He scooted his legs down Margot's body, looked down at her breasts, and then further down, at her exposed stomach, her bellybutton seeming to quiver with fear, and then further down, at the place where her jeans buttoned tightly around her waist.
"Well," Jackson said. "Don't mind if I do."
With his free hand, Jackson pushed the button of Margot's jeans through its loop and pulled back the denim slightly. He could already she the fringe of Margot's white panties, and decided to see more, so he placed his fingers on the tab of Margot's zipper and pulled down, her jeans opening slightly more as the zipper made its slow descent. And he seemed to be laughing to himself about all of this when Margot took the knife from her pocket, opened it, and plunged it into the back of Jackson's hand.
"GAHHHHHH!"
Jackson pulled back his hand, the knife still embedded in his skin. He was howling, and defenseless, and Margot pushed herself off the floor and barreled into him, rolling over him so that he was flattened to the ground and she was soon on her feet. Blood was coursing out of Jackson's hand and onto the floor, and he was giving it all his attention, not noticing as Margot ran back to the taser, picked it up, and then ran back to Jackson.
"Fucking pervert," she said, sticking the taser between Jackson's legs. She kept it there, watching Jackson shake with electricity, watching the blood from his hand pool onto the floor, watching his once lascivious expression turn to one of total agony, until he had stopped moving. His face went slack. He was unconscious.
Margot dropped the taser and slowly clambered to her feet. She breathed heavily, keeping her hands on her knees for a while. A bruise had already started to form near her eye. Her clothes were covered in mud and grass and dust. She zipped and buttoned up her jeans and stared at Jackson. Still not moving. He was down for the count. Margot sighed.
She looked at Erin, her arms tied high above her head, a rope stretching from her wrists around a rafter and back to the floor, her ankles bound together. Beltless and unmasked. Covered in dust and sweat. The V-neck of her costume wrinkled and torn in the place, the bottom of her costume riding high, too high, on her hips. She was smiling. She was, in fact, so happy she could barely speak.
"Margot," she whispered. "Margot."
Margot pulled the pocket knife from Jackson's hand and wiped the bloody blade on her jeans. "I guess I'll cut you down now," she said.
The two women laughed together in the cold barn. And then, they heard a buzz. They followed the sound to Jackson's vibrating phone. Margot picked it up. "The Boss," she read, showing the phone to Erin.
"Answer it, and bring it to me," Erin said.
Margot pushed a button and lifted the phone up to Erin's ear.
"Status report?" a voice said.
It was Hammerson. Erin smiled.
"Are you there? Hello?" Hammerson said. "Why haven't I got a picture? What's going on?"
"Sorry," Erin said. "Your boys aren't available right now."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. And then, "Goddamn you. Goddamn you. You bitch. You think this is funny? You think--"
"Catch you later, Mr. Hammerson," Erin said, nodding at Margot. Margot could hear Hammerson shouting as she ended the call. She looked up at Erin, her tied up, unmasked, victorious superheroine friend, and grinned.
END OF PART ONE
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