breasts exposed. The other girl was being hustled toward the empty filling station where I had been roughed up by Soldier and Tiny.
Sheriff Kranski stood in the town square. His hat and gunbelt were gone, and his pants had been lowered around his knees. He stood with his arms around one of the bandstand support posts, wrists shackled together with his own handcuffs. The mob flowed around him. His face was that of a man in hell.
Soldier was not in sight.
I was running out of time. It could not be long before reinforcements were brought in from the neighboring villages. When they came, the lid would be off the whole thing. The outlaws would scatter into the hills. On their fast machines they could be a hundred miles away in an hour or two. It might be months or years before I could catch up with Soldier again.
The crash of glass as another store front gave. A woman screamed, the sound shrill and desperate, jangling my nerves. God help any reasonably attractive woman out on the streets this night. Stacey had screamed that way too, and it had not helped. These murdering bastards thrived on screaming. How little men had changed in all the thousands of years of so-called civilizing. Scratch the surface and the beast springs forth. It is only one small step from Dachau to Kildare.
It has been said that the mark of the psychopath is his need for instant gratification. Even in the age of sexual permissiveness, he still finds it necessary to rape. Tonight the whole town of Kildare was being raped.
Of course, the cyclists would claim later that the victims had asked for it. Why would a woman who did not want to be taken by force be out on the streets anyway? Moore's two girls had come into town looking for it. Poor little Pearly was looking for it. They knew damn well what would happen to them, and they came anyway, like bitches in heat.
That was the way Stud had put it to me.
With his back to the canal and the gun in his face, he had said, "What's rape anyway, man? I mean it's like you're only givin' the chick what she really wants. Most of them can't make it with one guy anyway. But fifty guys… like one time we had this chick come down from Palm Beach in a Caddy. Loaded. All the dough in the world. But what could them faggots up there do for her? She had this big mothering dog with her, a St. Bernard or something. She said she wanted to join the club, and we said okay, if she would blow the dog. At first she thought we was nuts, but then she said okay and went down on that dog with a thing on him like a mule. I'll never forget that night, man, we was all of us on speed and practically givin' off steam. By the time she finished with that dog, every guy in the club had his pants down. We kept her there for three days fucking till we could hardly stand. Then we put her back in the Caddy with her goddamn dog. We heard later she checked into a hospital someplace and told everybody she was in a car accident. Now, I mean what would you call that, man? Would you call that rape? The chicks want it, man. They all want it. Your wife… Wait, now! Wait! For Chrissake, don't shoot! Listen, it was all Soldier's idea anyway…"
I found him at last. Tiny, towering above the mob, was my guidepost. They were astride their machines in front of the old wooden structure that had once been Kildare's train station. A space a few hundred yards long had been cleared for them. Two narrow lanes had been chalk-marked on the pavement. A knot of a hundred or more spectators, faces flushed with excitement, stood outside the lines. I elbowed my way through.
"What's going on?"
"Chicken, man. Soldier and Tiny."
"A grudge?"
"Nah, just for the hell of it. Them two crazy mothers are liable to kill each other."
"Good," I said.
Tiny and Soldier were now at opposite ends of the street, revving their machines. Tiny looked wild-eyed drunk.
Sheriff Kranski stood in the town square. His hat and gunbelt were gone, and his pants had been lowered around his knees. He stood with his arms around one of the bandstand support posts, wrists shackled together with his own handcuffs. The mob flowed around him. His face was that of a man in hell.
Soldier was not in sight.
I was running out of time. It could not be long before reinforcements were brought in from the neighboring villages. When they came, the lid would be off the whole thing. The outlaws would scatter into the hills. On their fast machines they could be a hundred miles away in an hour or two. It might be months or years before I could catch up with Soldier again.
The crash of glass as another store front gave. A woman screamed, the sound shrill and desperate, jangling my nerves. God help any reasonably attractive woman out on the streets this night. Stacey had screamed that way too, and it had not helped. These murdering bastards thrived on screaming. How little men had changed in all the thousands of years of so-called civilizing. Scratch the surface and the beast springs forth. It is only one small step from Dachau to Kildare.
It has been said that the mark of the psychopath is his need for instant gratification. Even in the age of sexual permissiveness, he still finds it necessary to rape. Tonight the whole town of Kildare was being raped.
Of course, the cyclists would claim later that the victims had asked for it. Why would a woman who did not want to be taken by force be out on the streets anyway? Moore's two girls had come into town looking for it. Poor little Pearly was looking for it. They knew damn well what would happen to them, and they came anyway, like bitches in heat.
That was the way Stud had put it to me.
With his back to the canal and the gun in his face, he had said, "What's rape anyway, man? I mean it's like you're only givin' the chick what she really wants. Most of them can't make it with one guy anyway. But fifty guys… like one time we had this chick come down from Palm Beach in a Caddy. Loaded. All the dough in the world. But what could them faggots up there do for her? She had this big mothering dog with her, a St. Bernard or something. She said she wanted to join the club, and we said okay, if she would blow the dog. At first she thought we was nuts, but then she said okay and went down on that dog with a thing on him like a mule. I'll never forget that night, man, we was all of us on speed and practically givin' off steam. By the time she finished with that dog, every guy in the club had his pants down. We kept her there for three days fucking till we could hardly stand. Then we put her back in the Caddy with her goddamn dog. We heard later she checked into a hospital someplace and told everybody she was in a car accident. Now, I mean what would you call that, man? Would you call that rape? The chicks want it, man. They all want it. Your wife… Wait, now! Wait! For Chrissake, don't shoot! Listen, it was all Soldier's idea anyway…"
I found him at last. Tiny, towering above the mob, was my guidepost. They were astride their machines in front of the old wooden structure that had once been Kildare's train station. A space a few hundred yards long had been cleared for them. Two narrow lanes had been chalk-marked on the pavement. A knot of a hundred or more spectators, faces flushed with excitement, stood outside the lines. I elbowed my way through.
"What's going on?"
"Chicken, man. Soldier and Tiny."
"A grudge?"
"Nah, just for the hell of it. Them two crazy mothers are liable to kill each other."
"Good," I said.
Tiny and Soldier were now at opposite ends of the street, revving their machines. Tiny looked wild-eyed drunk.
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