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AVP, Part Two
By Tully

I
Marla had locked me in a vicious cycle, and I loved it. Our nights together assembled us like improv stars in “AVP”. She played the fanatical foot girl of whom my dreams had been focused since D knows when. I played the naiive young masseuse whose only intentions were benevolence and conveniently-omitted self-interest.
She kept biting me in different places. My finger hardly had clotted when she preyed on my forearm. Then my shoulder. On the week when all this happened, she had nibbled my earlobe. The bites always accompanied the titillating atmosphere of the red room. I only could accept either all or none.
One particular evening, she asked me if I had foot fetish. Tender nerves in my face crackled. I delayed my response several seconds. When I looked up, her darling eyes patiently awaited my answer.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
Her erudition preceded her. “Do you like everyone’s feet?”
I registered that she and I were having this discussion while her left foot rested in my hands. Heat loves embarrassment. “When I see a woman’s feet, I’m attracted. When I see a man’s feet, I’m usually repulsed.”
She smiled and laughed nasally. “Thank you for telling me. Now that we got that out of the way, I have a proposition for you.”
“Okay.”
“I represent a coven of sorts who particularly enjoy exactly what we’re discussing. I wanted to wait until after we had finished here to tell you but,” she pressed her foot in my hands against my thigh, “I figured ‘what better implement to coax you with than the object of your affection?’”
Trumpets! Grand pipe organs! Choirs of angels! “I’m listening.”
“After we’re done here, I want you to follow me to the place where we all meet. I will give you the address when you’re ready.”
I laughed. “Shall I write it down or drool it onto your ankle?”
She didn’t respond. My joke failed to amuse her! I looked up and saw her fearfully looking at her hand. Then, blood spattered from her neck! My eyes reflexed shut and I lowered my head. Her foot floundered in my hands. She fell forward on top of me.
-
II
“Marla!!”
Poor creature! She tried to speak but her throat had been pierced. I pulled out from underneath her and checked myself. My hair had been doused in her blood. Now, it stained my hand. As much as I feared for her safety, mine was equally imperiled.
Suddenly, Marla’s little throne splintered and cracked. I looked up to find a small tubular opening in the ceiling to the night sky. Someone had shot Marla from outside!
The bullets stopped. I kept low for fear of another bullet and wrenched the door open.
No one was directly outside. I needed to go out there. Marla had not stirred from her prone position but her fingers had not stopped grasping at the floor.
“Marla, I’ll get help! I promise!”
I trekked towards the entranceway. A flurry of bullets destroyed the front door. A thuggish assailant kicked the door in and bellowed “retribution!!” I grabbed the closest thing I could find, a glass nail polish bottle, and flung it at the assailant. It struck him on the head. He clutched his head and cried in pain.
He brandished his weapon towards me. A woman’s voice called out “HEY”. The hey drew the assailant’s attention in time for me to drop to the floor.
Then, a gunshot like a small explosion detonated. The man screamed no longer. The same voice called out “Tully!”
I lifted myself up in time to behold the fury. Cora held both a shotgun and a countenance of fire that I never had seen in her before. The assailant lied dead on the floor at her feet.
“Stay down, Tully!” she yelled.
I got back down. Another man screamed the word ‘retribution’ with the same audacity as his predecessor. He likewise met a small explosion, which all but ended the emergency.
-
III
Several police patrollers had arrived. They must have heard the gunshots.
“Tully!” cried Cora, “You’re bleeding! Are you shot?”
“No, it’s not my blood. Marla. She got shot from outside. She’s still downstairs.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. Listen. Help me move this guy into the basement. We need him alive.”
The second assailant was not dead but his muffled groans portended considerable pain. His frame was smaller than his comrade’s.
“C’mon, Tully! No daydreaming now! The cops are right outside!”
I knew not what nefarious plot I had become involved with but I complied with Cora’s request. She and I lifted the man’s shoulders and legs respectively. He wriggled weakly in our grasp. We carried him to the basement and deposited him in a closet.
Then, Cora and I ran back to where I left Marla. She had managed to sit herself upright. She and the floor in front of her were covered in blood.
“I’m fine,” she wheezed. Her voice was mangled and weak. Cora lowered her ear down to Marla’s lips. I did not hear what they exchanged.
“Let’s get back out there, Tully. The police really don’t like gunshots and bullet holes but they like the Brotherhood even less.”
******
After the police left, there were closed doors, significant property damage, and puddles of blood on the floors. Tootsie’s had closed for the night. Cora examined the front door. The assailants had dislodged the doorknob and lock with a ring of bullets.
“I might as well have opened shop in the city,” she muttered to herself. “No one’s gonna come back here now. I have to fix this door. No, I have to shut down shop. Shit! Tully, come with me.”
We stepped through the threshold to the basement stairs.
“I don’t suppose this is a frequent occurrence?” I asked.
Cora sighed heavily. “No, Tully, this is not a frequent occurrence. That was the Brotherhood. They found us out.”
“Who is the Brotherhood?”
“The Brotherhood of Retribution: they’re a cult. They raid places, kill people, then, they turn around and say they do it for our own good. They came for Marla.”
“How do you know?”
“You told me she got shot while you two were in the red room. They got her through the skylight. Then, after you guys moved out of the line of sight, they broke through the front door to finish the job.”
She opened the closet where the second assailant. He had sat himself upright. The light from outside the closet must have shocked him awake. His hand blocked the light from his masked face.
“You,” quoth Cora, “might as well be dead.”
The assailant breathed heavily and said nothing.
“You made your target bleed a lot, you sonuvabitch. You know what bleeding does to her?”
Still, he said nothing.
“Cora,” I started uneasily, “if the Brotherhood learns you were involved, they’ll come for you, too.”
She paused briefly. “If the Brotherhood learns you were involved, they’ll come after you as well.”
A sharp chill thrilled my core.
“When they return, which they will,” she continued, “they’ll target Marla before anyone else. Help me lift him up. We’re not done with him yet.”
“That won’t be necessary, my dear.”
Marla had approached us from behind. Her voice was grotesquely raspy, which complemented her macabre, bloodied appearance. Red footprints marked her path from her parlor. A glow in her eyes flooded me with dread.
“Marla,” I gasped.
Her gaze lingered upon the assailant whose masked face returned the gaze with equal fervor. “Tully,” she croaked, “we’ll postpone our rendezvous to another night. Tonight, I must rest.”
“Ye-yeah, no problem.”
“Now, would you two kindly leave me with him?”
Cora pushed me towards the stairs. “Let’s go, Tully.” I had no choice but to lead. Cora followed me, which obstructed the scene behind us. Although I did not witness exactly what happened after we left, as I recollect now, I have a pretty good idea.