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The Pulp Fiction Megapack. John Wallace
Читать онлайн.Название The Pulp Fiction Megapack
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781434447357
Автор произведения John Wallace
Жанр Ужасы и Мистика
Издательство Ingram
“You are entertainers, no?” the bearded man spat out. “Have no fear, you will entertain me.” His eyes swept over the tall, muscular figure of the woman who had addressed him. “Hmm, you are powerful for a woman. Tell me, what is it you do?”
“I am a trapeze artist,” Phyllis said evenly.
The man’s eyes swept over the other entertainers, coming to rest on the stout figure of the lecturer. “You,” he shouted, his pig-like eyes becoming red with anger, “who sent you here?”
The woman started violently. “Why, why, I was booked by—”
He waved her explanation aside. “Never mind, never mind. I’ll hear your act tonight. If it fails to please me you will return by the boat that brought you. Yours, and,” his eyes again combed the group, coming to rest on the pouting-lipped blues singer and the shapely magician’s assistant, “you two stay as well. The rest of you had better get some rest.”
* * * *
A half nude servant led the way up a long, uncarpeted staircase to half a dozen rooms on the next floor. He opened each door with a key and motioned the women inside. A chill finger traced its way up Miriam’s back as she heard the door lock behind her. She ran to the window, but there was a drop of twenty feet into darkness there. She sat on the bed and tried desperately to recover her rapidly ebbing courage.
She had no way of knowing how long she sat there before the tapping on her window brought her to her feet with a start. Stark fear squeezed the breath from her body and made her incapable of motion.
Suddenly a face appeared at the window! A strange face, yet hauntingly familiar. In a flash she recognized it to be that of Phyllis, the trapeze artist, but in some way it was different!
Haltingly, she made her way to the window and threw back the catch. Into the room bounded the half nude figure of a man!
“Surprised?” he grinned. “It’s a long, long story of why I had to pass myself off as a woman, but since they haven’t started yet, I guess you have time to hear it now.”
Miriam nodded weakly and fell into a nearby chair.
“I’m really Phil Castle of the Flying Castles. My kid sister fell from a trapeze about five years ago, and though her body mended readily enough, she lost her nerve and she couldn’t go back into aerial work. Instead, she found she had a flair for singing. She was doing pretty well at it, too, about the time our troupe went abroad on a tour. We were gone for about three years, and when we got back she had disappeared off the face of the earth. I’ve spent the past year tracing her, and the trail led here. I learned this Martinez wanted only women. I applied, and here I am. And here I intend to stay until I learn what kind of deviltry this Martinez is up to.”
The girl smiled a weak smile. “Well, I don’t care why you’re here. It’s a relief just to know you are, and—”
The man clasped his hand over her mouth gently. “Shh, do you hear anything out there?” he indicated the open window. She listened for a moment, then nodded.
“Somebody’s going out,” she whispered. In response to a motioned request, she put out the light, then joined him at the window.
Below, the man who described himself as Martinez was at the head of a small party that was making its way into the jungle. At each side was a semi-nude native, dressed only in loin cloth and bearing a torch. In the rear, six other natives half dragged the three women who had been left behind.
Just as the jungle swallowed the last of the party, the blonde blues singer screamed a loud, despairing cry that died down in a gurgle.
“Where are they taking them?” Miriam asked in a frightened voice.
The man shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” he said. He opened the window and tested the heavy ivy growth that covered the building. “Strong enough for two,” he said; “want to come?”
“I don’t want to go,” the girl admitted, “but I’m certainly not going to stay here.” She shivered. “Do you think they’re going to kill them?” she asked.
The man’s voice was serious. “I think they’re going to be lucky if they do kill them,” he said. “Well, we’re about ready to start, so you’d better get aboard.” He knelt down and helped her onto his broad back. “If you’re inclined to dizziness, you can close your eyes while we go down.”
She gritted her teeth and shook her head. “I’m all right,” she said.
When they reached the ground, he caught her by the arm. “See that red glare in the sky?” he asked. “That’s probably where they are. Let’s head that way.”
The trip through the jungle toward the red glare was the most difficult thing Miriam had ever done in her life. She fought back the tears as branches whipped at her face and tore at her clothes. Twice she fell, and had to be helped to her feet by her surefooted guide. Suddenly, he stopped her with his hand.
“They’re right ahead now,” he warned. “Think you can hold onto my back while we do some fancy stuff without a net?”
She clenched her fists again and nodded. This time, disregarding her weight on his back, the man scrambled up a nearby tree with the grace of a cat.
Then, cautiously testing the branches as he went, he traveled from tree to tree until he found a comfortable spot in the branches of a large leafy tree that overlooked the meeting place.
Miriam caught her breath at the sight below her. Seated around the huge bonfire was a score of naked, brown little men who watched avidly the argument going on between their chief and the white man from the big house. Finally an agreement seemed to be reached, and Martinez addressed the three white women.
“You were brought out here to entertain me,” he said, an obscene tongue licking at his thick lips. “And I propose to see that you do. Martinez. as you probably have guessed, is not my name, but that doesn’t matter. Years ago, I was internationally famed as a wild game hunter and devoted my life to tracking down the wiliest of beasts.” He paused and mopped at his head with a handkerchief. “That palled,” he explained, “because despite the fiction that animals are shrewd they are no match for the brain of man. There no longer was any thrill in hunting them down, so I cast about to discover some form of game that could give me a run for my money. In you ladies I hope to find that sport.”
With a low moan, the soft eyed blonde slumped to the ground in a faint. Martinez continued to speak. “I have found by experience that the urge to exist is stronger in the female than in the male, and that the female, lacking the strength of the male and his stupid courage, is more likely to use her ingenuity in escaping from me—”
The stout woman lecturer stepped up. “And if we refuse to be hunted like beasts?”
Martinez threw his coarse head back in a loud, roaring laugh. “That, ladies, is your privilege. I had brought you out here to provide an example to the others of what would happen if they refused to play their parts. However,” he indicated the unconscious form of the thick lipped blonde with disdain, “I find you are much more desirable than she. You shall see.” He called the head of the tribe, who brought two of the members of the tribe to carry the blonde to a wide, flat stake in the middle of the clearing near the fire.
The two natives held the girl upright against the post, while Martinez, taking a long bow from the hands of the chief, carefully notched an arrow, took aim and let it fly its singing way, to lodge in the soft flesh of the girl’s shoulder, pinning her to the board. With another arrow, he transfixed her other shoulder in like manner.
From somewhere a drum started beating and the natives were on their feet singing and dancing in mad frenzy. The noise and the pain brought the blonde out of her faint, and she screamed a heartrending plea for help that froze the blood of the two in the tree.