Free Death Trance by Graham Masterton Page A

shuddering climaxes and climbed off the bed but Marmie knew it was no use to hope that the defilement was over. She seemed to be falling down some echoing corridor into complete darkness, where there was nothing but humiliation and fear and terrible agony. Yet for Issa's sake, Marmie knew that she had to remain conscious and had to stay sane. The grappling, heaving, terrifying foulness of it went on and on, so that she came to believe that it would never end.
    At last, however, there was silence. It must have been almost dawn because the bedroom was illuminated in a ghostly blue light. Issa seemed to be either asleep or unconscious, but Marmie could feel the girl's heart beating and feel her breath on her shoulder, so she knew that at least Issa was alive.
    Marmie tried to lift her head. It seemed as if the bedroom were empty and that the men had gone. She listened but there was no sound, only the early morning sapsuckers tapping at the trees outside, only the thin whistle of the wind across the lake. She thought about her ordeal but her mind refused to organize it for her. Instead, it told her with protective logic that she had suffered terribly and that it would take many years before she would be able to come to terms with what had happened. She knew that John and Mark were dead, but her tear ducts refused to indulge her grief. She knew that she and Issa had been grotesquely bound and raped, but she could think of nothing other than How are we going to cut ourselves free?
    'Issa,’ she whispered. 'Issa, darling.’
    Issa opened the one eye that Marmie could see.
    'Momma.’ That simple word bore all her suffering and sadness. In one night, Issa's family had gone, her innocence was lost, everything the world had given her had been stripped away.
    'Issa, listen to me. Everything's going to be fine. All we have to do is untie ourselves. Then we can call the rangers and have the plane sent out.’
    'Momma, they killed John.’
    'Yes, my darling. They killed Mark too. But don't think about it. Everything's going to be fine, just as long as we take it easy and don't panic.’
    'Momma,’ wept Issa, close to hysteria.
    Marmie shushed her, hugged her tight and called her all the pet names she could remember. 'Come on, baby, it's over. It was terrible, but now it's over. Come on, baby, don't cry.’
    It was then, however, that the bedroom door abruptly opened and Marmie froze. From where she was lying, with her neck tied to Issa's, she could not see who had stepped into the room. But after a tense pause, the man with the axe came into sight and bent over them, his eyes glinting inside his mask. Marmie said nothing; she felt too vulnerable and too frightened. Besides, the man was unpredictable. He did not speak even now but only stared at her as if relishing her predicament. He lifted the axe blade and held it close to Marmie's face, and although it was impossible for her to see his face, she found it easy to believe that he was smiling.
    'What are you going to do?’ she asked, her voice a gasp.
    The man stood up and beckoned one of the others from the doorway. This man came forward with a coil of barbed wire, one end of which had been fashioned into a noose 'Momma, what is it?’ begged Issa. 'What is it? What are they doing?’
    Marmie knew then that she would not be able to bear what the men were going to do to them. 'Shoot us,’ she said hoarsely.
    The man with the axe slowly and deliberately shook his head.
    'Shoot us!’ screamed Marmie. 'Shoot us, for the love of God! Shoot us!’

CHAPTER THREE
    Memphis, Tennessee
    Randolph called Marmie as soon as he awakened at six-thirty that morning, but there was no reply. He sat at the small white cast-iron table on the bedroom balcony, overlooking the walled garden that Marmie had planted with roses and magnolias, drinking strong black coffee, eating buttered toast and reading the early morning edition of the Memphis Press-Scimitar, which announced, 'Clare Blaze "Not Arson" Opines