Chapter 21

Mary kept Lou stretched out on the floor for two, miserable, long days. Occasionally she would stoop to his side and attempt conversation. Her hand might affectionately stroke the lengthening beard on his cheek, or her fingers play with his hair. She acted for the world as if there were nothing unusual in having a man sewn into a blanket laying in the middle of her floor.

Lou refused to talk to her. His anger boiled, at himself almost as much as at her. She was sick. He should have guessed, or at the very least suspected that the woman would eventually go completely around the bend. He should have slipped away quietly. He'd been a damn fool to announce his departure. As another spike of pain shot through his mouth, Lou cursed himself again. Hind sight did nothing to change the insanity of his current predicament.

As for Mary, she continued about her daily chores, often singing to herself as she cleaned dead ashes out of the fireplace and set a fresh fire, wiped down the dry sink and rough plank table, and prepared meals. Between chores, Mary circled the small shack's table. Half a dozen times she traced her own footsteps, skirting close to one corner of the table, stepping wide to avoid Lou at another. While sweeping the hard pack floor, she worked right around Lou, carefully avoiding stepping on him where he still lay trundled up on the floor between table and bed. When the dust she raised set Lou to coughing, she leaned the broom against the table and brought him a tin of water. Bitter and suffering intense pain, Lou turned his head away, refusing to even meet her eyes.

He couldn't help but notice how different this fit was from the others. In contrast to the zombie-like trance she wore each time he roused to consciousness while she carried out her crazy quest of knocking out all his teeth, she appeared completely lucid. Her movements were fluid and natural, not stiff and slow. Her voice had nothing of the flatness that filled it during other spells. A stranger coming on her would never guess at the madness possessing the pretty young woman. But Lou knew too well. Trapped in a blanket beginning to reek of urine, muscles stiffening into aches, gums swollen and lips torn, mouth filled with unbearable pain, Lou knew.

He kept expecting her to suddenly come into her right mind. This madness could not continue for ever. Surely she would wake from her fit at any moment, and when she did, Lou would get the Hell out of there as quickly as he could.

Throughout the day Lou slipped in and out of consciousness. The pain never ceased. His mouth was so torn and ragged, even swallowing was torment. Then, as evening fell on the canyon cabin and its two semi-lucid occupants, Lou found a true sleep. Having done so, he slept soundly through the night and long past daybreak the next day.

With the rest a night of sound sleep gave him, Lou's pain had receded enough that he was becoming aware of his body's other complaints. Hunger and thirst he could put aside. The open desert had practiced him in the kinds of extremes a body could survive. Aching muscles were nothing new to an outlaw accustomed to long stretches in the saddle. One need, however, could only be ignored for so long before its demands became so insistent they had to be answered. Toward the end of that second day, Lou's bowels began cramping.

A bitterness covered his tongue, having to ask Mary for anything at all. Yet, even knowing it was probably futile, he had to ask. The alternative was unthinkable.

His first attempt was just that. An attempt. Speaking over tattered gums and swollen, torn lips, his words mushed in his mouth. Even to his own ears his question was unintelligible. Mary, however, appeared delighted at his attempt. She stopped her repetitive circling of the table and fairly skipped to his side. "What is it Lou? Are you thirsty? Hungry?"

Lou pulled his face away from the palm of her hand. Her touch churned in his stomach. Speaking slowly, he carefully framed his words. "I gotta go." The effort to speak intelligibly over tissue swollen to the point of bursting was excruciating, but he persisted, keeping his tongue to the roof of his mouth and avoiding putting his lips together. "Let me up. I gotta go to the toilet."

Mary sat back on her haunches and stared at him. She cocked her head to the side and Lou knew. She was listening to those damned voices again. Anger rose in Lou. Those voices were part and parcel of what Mary had done to him. He wanted to reach out, take her pretty, slender, white neck in his hands, and rattle those damn voices right out of her. Almost involuntarily, Lou began pushing out against the confining blanket. His anger struggled to break free. With every ounce of his being, Lou wanted to throttle her. He was certain the veins on his face bulged with effort, yet Mary sat passively by his side, seemingly unaware.

"Mary! Let me up, damn it!" His words came out in an angry hiss, sloppy with spittle, barely recognizable.

As before, Mary's body sat perfectly still while her face revealed the direction of the conversation taking place inside. Immediately after his outburst Mary's expression told Lou the mistake he'd made.

"I won't let that happen," Mary voiced. Determination set hard on her face.

Damn me for a fool. Without much hope of success, Lou tried to cool his anger and undo his error. Would she even hear him with her attention turned so strongly inward? Lou dug into himself and mustered the calmest voice possible. "Mary," he reached for her attention. Steeling against the inevitable increase in pain, he forced himself to form his words clearly. "Mary? Can you hear me? I'll be a mess if you don't let me up. I promise I'll be good, just let me up so I don't do myself right here." The cramping in his bowels stabbed at his innards like a knife. Still, he held on. Lou wondered how long before they let loose despite his effort at control.

Finally, Mary's inward attention broke and she looked down at Lou. Her concern was obvious, yet it was equally obvious the voices had the final say. "I'm sorry, Lou. Lucifer says I shouldn't let you up. He doesn't trust you." Again, Mary stroked the growth on Lou's face. "I can't, Lou. Lucifer is right."

Lou resisted the urge to jerk away from her touch. "I can't believe you mean that. Its going to stink something fierce."

"It's not up to me anymore, Lou. You'll have to take it up with Lucifer. I don't have any choice in the matter," she told him with a finality that, for her, settled the question. She affectionately stroked his hair as one might pet a cute little puppy, then rose from the floor. The look she gave him as she stood above his trussed up form was one of genuine regret. Dusting the dirt of the hard pack floor from her skirts, Mary walked out the cabin door.

Lou's fury shot to a new height. Lucifer was in charge? The devil hadn't wrapped him up in this blanket, Mary had. It was just crazy. She was crazy. Really truly crazy. Not crazy like a person usually meant when they said that about a person, but actually sick in the head, around the bend, out of her mind, loony, insane, deranged, stark raving mad. Never had Lou come across anything like it in his whole life. If it wasn't so damned scary, it would be fascinating.

Lou held his bowels as long as he could. Disgusted with himself, he could do nothing less than give in to the inevitable. The physical relief was intense. At the same time, a mix of other emotions tore through Lou's insides. Hatred for Mary sat side by side with hatred for himself. The smell, the feel, the knowing he had soiled himself stoked the hate. But the hotter his hate became, the more he worried too. Could he catch the crazies from her? Tied up, unable to fight back, forced to be a victim of his very own body. How long before he was as loco as Mary? He closed his eyes against a rush of fear. Instantly he beat it back. I am not a helpless victim. Damn her, he screamed inside. But tensing the muscles of his jaw, the pain in his mouth rose to blot out the emotions, leaving him with only one desire. To be free of the agony inside his mouth.

Lou lay in his own stink the rest of the day, without Mary about. Time lost itself somewhere along the way. Only the slant of sunlight through the chinks in the walls told him the day was progressing. He had no idea where Mary had gotten off to. Probably sitting on the rocks tumbled along the canyon shelf's wall staring at the dusty desert sky or looking out across the canyon's dry wash, having a friendly conversation with the devil, he mocked. He could just see her out there, tossing back her long auburn hair and exposing the soft white lines of her neck as she and Lucifer laughed it up, tossing about jokes. How he longed to wrap his hands around that neck. But Lou couldn't hold up the anger. A lifetime of taking what came with a shrug of his shoulders couldn't be torn out of him completely. Mary was a victim, too. He'd seen the indecision and confusion in her face when she was talking with Lucifer. Whatever the cause, the evil wasn't Mary, but a curse she carried inside that had pushed itself to the surface. Up until the time she suddenly began screaming and leveling the shack's contents, she was gentle and meek. When she laid with him, she'd been soft and pliant, eager, warm as any woman he'd ever known, maybe more so. If he had guessed how thin a line separated her from total insanity, he would never have announced his leaving.

A fresh wash of pain pushed any forgiving thoughts clean out of Lou's head. Mary was more dangerous than any outlaw he'd come across or heard tell of. Damn woman ought'a be shot, he decided.

It was almost dark when Mary came back inside and began preparing a meal. She appeared to be totally ignoring the stench of Lou's soiled clothing and blanket. Before she even dished a plate for herself, she brought beans and meat to Lou and sat down on the dirt floor, near his head. Spooning up a helping of beans, she brought them to his mouth. He hadn't eaten in two days.

Two days, he wondered. How much longer before she comes to her senses and sets me free? He was hungry alright, but even the small amount of heat from the warmed up beans burned his torn gums so badly he involuntarily spit the food out.

"God-damn it, woman," he cussed. "You're gonna blister my mouth. Just forget it, I'd rather die of hunger." Instantly he regretted his words. His swollen lips and gums complained bitterly at the abuse. They were too damn painful to speak.

"Don't you want to eat? You know you have to eat something eventually." She looked down at him with softness. Auburn hair hung loose around her ivory pale face. A knot of concern crossed the thin, finely arched brows that set off her green-brown eyes.

Unable to stomach the brew of loathing and attachment in his guts, Lou turned his head away from her and swallowed his hunger. "Go away."

"Well, you still have to eat sometime." A pause followed before she continued. "From now on, I'll allow the beans to cool a bit before feeding you."

She didn't wait for a response from Lou, just got up and walked away. When Lou heard the scuttle of Mary sitting down to the table, he turned his head back to watch her set the plate of beans and meat to cool. Then she sat down on their one chair. Moments later a veil descended across Mary's eyes and Lou's apprehension once again rose. Whenever she talked to her voices, his guts twisted. This time, at least, Mary did more talking and Lou had a better idea of where the conversation was going and what the voices were saying to her.

"I don't know what else to do. His gums are torn up pretty bad. If he doesn't eat, he'll die," Mary said. After a brief silence undoubtedly filled in by the voices inside her head, she spoke again. "I can't let him up Mother. Lucifer won't stand for it."

The mention of Mother perked up Lou's attention. Of the two voices he knew about, Mother's held hope. If such a thing could be said in the first place, Mother was the saner of the two. Hopeful of an advantage wherever it might arise, Lou watched Mary's face, trying to guess from the clue's written there how the conversation inside progressed. His hope was short lived.

"See Mother. I told you Lucifer won't let him up. And he's right. It was my one chance. Without his teeth, Lou needs me. How would he live without me to care for him?"

"Don't go telling me it was wrong Mother. I did what I had to do and that's that. Instead of blaming me for his hunger, help me get him to eat."

She sat for a while, her head cocked to one side and then nodded her head as if in agreement. "I think he's getting hungry enough to eat even if it is painful. I'm certain he spat his food because it was too hot for his poor mouth." After a short pause she got a smile on her face. "Yes that should work very well, Mother. Just like for a baby and its bottle. I'll just wait until the temperature is the same as that of my own body." The crazy woman then put a bean on her wrist to test the warmth of the food. The first time she wasn't satisfied but the next she picked the plate back up and returned to Lou's outstretched body. Mashing the beans against the back of her spoon, she made a brownish red mush, then scooped a small portion into the spoon's bowl.