Chapter 2

So he was on some godforsaken back road in Louisiana, a state he wished he had never heard of, driving some weird creature in the form of a very hot babe, a babe who could probably clear out a pool hall full of drunken rednecks, without even using a cue stick.

Of all the rotten goddam luck.

"I like sex," Elsie said, matter-of-factly. "I like blow jobs and fucking. I didn't think I'd like it so much, but I do."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure every man in America is happy to hear that," said Loopy. "But I'm not sure they'll be happy to hear what comes after. What do you girls do after mating where you come from — eat the males like some kind of goddamn black widows?"

Elsie didn't answer right away. Finally, she said, "Black widows? Spiders. Yes, and praying mantises. Yes, now I see." What the Visitor saw was Elsie's sketchy education in the natural sciences, mostly composed of bits and pieces of programs on the Discovery Channel.

Loopy swerved to miss a sickly looking brown and white dog that had strayed into the road.

"You change course to avoid such creatures?" Elsie asked.

"Sure," said Loopy, with the wounded tone of one offended. "Do you think we'd kill a dog if we could avoid it?"

"But each other — you kill each other?"

"Yeah, I guess so. But usually for good reason, like in a war or in self-defense or if they totally piss you off. We don't just kill for no reason at all, like you did to Irv and Joe Joe."

"Ah, but I had a reason," said Elsie. "The one you call Joe Joe pissed me off. He struck me, twice."

Loopy was quiet for a while. Then he said, "So you were telling the truth when you said you killed Carlos?"

"Yes, I killed him too. It was quite easy."

"And me, why didn't you kill me?"

"I need someone to drive me. And to fuck me. You did the best job fucking."

"Thanks," said Loopy. "Usually Big Tom has gotten me into trouble. Looks like this time he saved my life."

"Do all males of your species name their sex organs?" asked Elsie.

"Yeah, I guess so. I don't know for sure. Do women name their pussies?" He paused, then said, "Shit, you wouldn't know. You're not from around here, and you're probably not even a woman."

They drove on in silence. Loopy felt guilty, an unusual sentiment for him. He had lied when he told Elsie that humans killed only for good reason. He had broken the neck of the bitch that Jake had trapped back in Carolina, and he had been an enthusiastic participant in turning Lulu into a gator feast. Neither one had done anything to piss him off; he just enjoyed killing the one and watching the other get eaten. But he couldn't tell Elsie that. She might get ideas. Hell, she might even turn him into a meal.

IV

Loopy didn't know much about geography, but he knew that Arkansas sat atop Louisiana on the map. But they were in the toe of the boot that stuck east under Mississippi, so he figured they would have to go generally northwest a while before turning north.

He stuck to back roads because he was pretty sure the cops by now had discovered the carnage in Room 106 and were looking for him and Elsie. Mainly for him. They would assume he had killed Irv and Joe Joe. Why would they think otherwise? How could they know that this babe sitting beside him, humming some strange song he'd never heard before, was actually The Thing, The Blob and The Creature from the Black Lagoon, all rolled into one?

They passed a dilapidated store with a couple of gas pumps in front. Loopy looked at the fuel gauge. They were running close to empty. He slowed, pulled to a stop, then backed into a gravel driveway.

"Where are we going?" Elsie asked.

"Back the road a little. We need gas."

Elsie pondered this. "Gas is what you put in this vehicle for fuel? But it's a liquid. Why do you call it gas?"

"Short for gasoline," Loopy said. "You really don't know shit, do you?"

He pulled the truck up to one of the pumps, stepped out and looked around. No one was outside, so he went into the store. It was cooler than outside, thanks to a wheezy window air conditioner, and dark. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Then he saw a thin man in bib overalls standing behind a counter.

"Howdy," Loopy said. "I need some gas. Do I pump it myself?"

The man behind the counter looked past him at the door and said nothing. Loopy turned and looked behind him. Elsie was standing in the doorway. She had shed his shirt, so her bloody tank top, filled with her magnificent breasts, was on full display.

"What happened to her?" the storekeeper asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing," said Loopy. "We was cutting up some meat. Now how about the gas?"

"Ain't got none," the man said. He leaned down, reaching beneath the counter. "All out until I get a delivery tomorrow."

"Okay," Loopy said with a sigh. He turned to leave, but the man said, "Wait a minute, you ain't going nowhere."

Loopy turned back and found himself looking at the business end of a double-barreled shotgun. Twelve gauge, as best he could tell.

"Get over here," the man said, looking at Elsie. "Get over by your man, and no funny business."

"What the fuck!" exclaimed Loopy in exasperation. "I've walked in on a stickup before, but I never been stuck up by a store owner. What the hell you want with us?"

"I don't rightly know," the man said. "But there's something funny going on here. Her with all that blood all over her. And that pickup truck. They said on the radio a little while ago that the cops in New Orleans were looking for a big man and a woman who rode off in an orange pickup truck. You're a big man, you got a woman with you, and you got an orange pickup. Plus, all that blood. I'm calling the sheriff."

He held the gun with his left hand and punched a three-digit number on the phone with the other. Then he held the receiver to his ear and waited.

It took a long time before anyone answered. Loopy began to wonder if 9-1-1 had reached the backwoods yet.

Finally, the man said, "Yeah. This is Stevenson over on Longwood Road. I got a man and a woman here I think had something to do with them murders in Jefferson Parish."

He paused, then said, "Jesus Christ, don't you people even listen to the goddamn regular radio and TV. There was two men beaten to death in a motel outside New Orleans. Cops are looking for a man and a woman — aw, the hell with it. Just send a car over here and take a look."

He hung up, then motioned Loopy and Elsie to take a seat on a bench along the back wall.

"Well," said Loopy, as he sat down. "I guess this is where all us earthlings learn just who you are, honey. The law is going to be here in a few minutes, and tough as you are, I don't think you're going to fight your way out of this one."

"Is that a gun he's holding?" Elsie asked.

"Yeah, honey, that's a gun. A shotgun. Two barrels. Would make quite a mess of you. So I'd just sit still if I were you."

But Elsie didn't sit still. She walked slowly toward the man behind the counter, here eyes on the gun.

"Sit down, miss," the man said. "Don't make me use this."

"But I want you to use it," Elsie said calmly. "I want to see how it works."

The man backed away as she approached, but there wasn't much room behind him.

"I'm warning you," he said. Then, to Loopy, he yelled, "Tell this crazy woman to get back."

She lunged for him, and he pulled the trigger. The first blast hit her in the right shoulder, spinning her around. The second hit her in the small of the back. She landed face down on the floor, a big hole in her back where the dense Number Two shot had ripped into her.

There was silence, then Loopy said in amazement, "Jesus, you killed her."

"I didn't mean to," the man cried. "But she kept on coming at me. You saw it. You saw her coming at me."

Loopy leaned down and touched Elsie's cheek. She was motionless. He thought she'd be writhing around, at least for a while. She must really be dead.

He felt strange, a mixture of relief and sadness. He was glad she couldn't beat him up again, but he was sad because he had liked her more than any other woman he'd ever met.

He looked up. The man behind the counter had reloaded the shotgun, and it was again aimed at him.

"Get back on that bench 'til the sheriff gets here," the man said.

Loopy stepped back and sat heavily on the bench. He felt tired and resigned. He heard a siren approaching. They'd send him to prison for killing Irv and Joe Joe, and this son of a bitch would get off scot-free after blowing Elsie all to hell. It wasn't fair.

A car with flashing blue lights skidded to a stop in front of the store, and two men in tan uniforms and Smokey the Bear hats came into the store, with guns drawn. They looked down at Elsie, and one of them said, "Aw shit."

"Who shot her?" the other one asked.

"I did," the man named Stevenson said. "I didn't want to, but she came at me."

"You couldn't have just slugged her or pushed her away," the first deputy said.

"No," said Stevenson. "I was afraid the other one, this big guy, would rush me if I got to tangling with the girl."

"Hey, we just came here for gas and this son of a bitch pulls a gun and shoots my girlfriend," said Loopy.

"Shut up," both deputies shouted simultaneously.

One of them reached down and felt for a pulse in Elsie's neck. "Still pumping, but pretty weak," he said. He put his gun in its holster and unhooked a radio from his belt. "We're at Stevenson's on Longwood," he said. "Got a woman down with a gunshot wound, but still alive. Get an ambulance here quick."

The other deputy approached Loopy and told him to stand, face the wall and put his hands behind him.

"Why you gonna cuff me?" Loopy asked. "I didn't do the shooting."

"Yeah, and you'll probably be released as soon as we clear up this mess," said the deputy. "But it ain't cleared up yet."

They brought Loopy outside, and Stevenson joined them, minus the shotgun.

"I guarantee he had something to do with those killings in Jefferson Parish," Stevenson said. "It all fits together."

"Yeah, maybe so," said one of the deputies. "And maybe you were too goddamn quick on the trigger."

"Fuckin' A," said Loopy.

"Shut up," yelled both deputies and Stevenson.

Then they were interrupted by a very loud bang, and the deputy standing next to Loopy jerked backward and fell to the ground. The other wheeled just in time to take a face full of Number Two shot from the gun Stevenson had left in the store.

Elsie, standing bare-breasted on the porch, was the shooter.

Stevenson and Loopy looked at her in stunned silence. She aimed the gun at Stevenson and again pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He bolted to the road and started running.

"Get me out of these cuffs," Loopy yelled. "The keys are on the deputy's belt."

Elsie walked unsteadily over to the fallen deputy closest to Loopy and bent to search his belt. Loopy looked at her lower back, which a few minutes ago had a big, bloody hole in it. The hole was gone, though there was what appeared to be a mass of white, bumpy scar tissue where the wound had been. When she found the keys and stood, facing Loopy, he saw similar tissue on her shoulder.

"You're fuckin' indestructible," he said, with a mixture of fear and admiration.

She gestured to him to turn around, then unlocked the cuffs.

They heard a siren in the distance.

"That'll be the ambulance," said Loopy. "Either that or more deputies. Get in the truck, quick."

He got in, cranked up the engine, then remembered he was still almost out of gas. They could take the deputies' cruiser, but that would make them even more obvious a target. Besides, the truck could at least go off road, if the going didn't get too rough.

He pulled out onto the road and jammed the accelerator to the floor. The ambulance came around a curve and barely missed them. A hundred yards later, Loopy saw Stevenson jogging wearily along the side of the road. He was headed the same direction they were, so his back was toward them.

Loopy guided the truck onto the shoulder. Stevenson turned just in time to recognize the danger but too late to do anything about it. The impact threw him into the air, and he landed in a broken heap in a patch of weeds next to a sycamore tree.

Loopy gunned the engine and the truck swerved back onto the road. Elsie seemed uninterested.

"You okay?" Loopy asked, after a little while.

"This adventure is quite exhausting," Elsie replied softly. She didn't seem to be in pain, just tired.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but your body had better be ready for some pretty hard work. We're going to be out of gas soon, so we gotta get off this road. Then when the gas runs out, we gotta go overland on foot and hide out somewhere for a while. Every sheriff and cop within a hundred miles is going to be looking for us."

"I'll give it the old collagen try," she said. "Maybe it will be fun."

Loopy turned onto a gravel road that branched off to the left. They went through a pine woods for a mile or so, then the gravel road and the woods ended and they were on a dirt track that ran through tall grass. Half a mile ahead of them was a clump of trees and a vine-encrusted barn that leaned precariously to the left.

The truck sputtered and came to a stop. Loopy tried to crank it up again, but the motor wouldn't catch. The needle on the fuel gauge was so far to the left he could hardly see it.

"This is where we start walking," he said. He got out, opened an aluminum chest behind the driver's seat and pulled out a blanket, a hunting knife in a sheath, a canteen with a strap, and a plastic first-aid kit.

Elsie's knees buckled as she got out of the truck and she fell face forward into the grass.

Loopy helped her to her feet. Her body was still tantalizingly sexy, but she seemed to have lost all her strength. He reckoned if they fought again, he'd whip her ass without breaking a sweat. But he didn't want to fight. They were in this together. They should be allies, not enemies.

Inside Elsie, the Visitor was also doing some calculating. The big question was how long Elsie's body would hold out. Killing Carlos, Irv and Joe Joe had taken a lot of her; so had the battle with Loopy. Her body, though athletic, wasn't designed for such exertions. Now, there was the damage done by the shotgun. The repairs that the Visitor had made were only a patch-up affair. Inside, Elsie's spine, kidneys and several other organs had been shattered. They were now held together with a DNA glue that the Visitor had synthesized from other tissue. The repairs would fail soon, and the Visitor wanted to be ready to move to a new host. Loopy was the obvious candidate. He was big and strong — and male. It would be interesting trying sex as a male Two-Leg.

But he didn't seem very intelligent, and if the law enforcers he was so worried about caught up with him, they would no doubt shoot him, the way the man in the store had shot Elsie.

Nevertheless, there weren't many other potential hosts around, at least not of the two-legged variety, and a return to insects or something even more insignificant would be a letdown.

V

They circled the barn, making sure no one was nearby. They needn't have worried. There wasn't another building in sight, and whatever might once have grown in the fields around the barn had long ago been replaced by tall grass and taller, broad-leaf weeds. Loopy had had to pull away vines to create an opening big enough for them to enter.

"Fuckin' kudzu," he snarled, as he ripped the twisting green sinews. "Goddamn vine doesn't belong here. They brought it over from Japan or Java or someplace like that. It's a fuckin' alien invasion."

He paused, looked nervously at Elsie and said, "Sorry. I didn't mean no offense. But it is an alien. I mean, it isn't American."

"Yes," said Elsie, "I understand. What isn't American is alien. And Louisiana, is that American?"

"I'm not sure," said Loopy, as he stepped back to admire his work. "Here, we can get in now."

It was hot inside, and they were overwhelmed by the smell of rotting wood and of some kind of wild animal, raccoon perhaps, or possum.

Loopy was dying of thirst. He opened the canteen and drank deeply. Then he offered it to Elsie. She declined.

"You better drink something," he said. "You're going to get dehydrated."

He drank again, but he needed more than water. He was dizzy with hunger. He hadn't eaten since... he tried to remember when. The night before? No, that was when he brought the pizza to the motel room and got the shit kicked out of him. It must have been lunch at Joe Joe's cousin's place, the alligator farm, over 24 hours ago.

But he was even more exhausted than he was hungry. He spread the blanket on the decomposing straw on the barn floor and sat so suddenly that the whole barn shook. Then he lay back and spread his arms and legs.

"Come over here, honey," he told Elsie. "You must be pooped, too."

In the dim light filtering through the kudzu and missing boards in the barn's walls, Loopy could see Elsie pale body, but it was just a vague form, like a ghost. She didn't answer him.