Get a Load of This

     Two hands reached out and fastened themselves like steel hooks on her throat. “You stupid mouthing little fool,” Gerda said, forcing Stella's head back. “Do you think I'd trust you? Do you think I'd have a moment's rest knowing that you were at large to tell the first man who made love to you? What do I care if you aren't with me any more? There are a hundred girls like you to share my eight thousand dollars. You can go with Denny. Do you hear? You can go with him.”

     She had forced Stella on the floor and was kneeling over her. Stella struggled wildly, but she had no strength to get free. Gerda held her vice-like grip, one of her knees pressing against Stella's chest, holding her flat.

     Because she hadn't got a proper hold, it took her a long time to kill Stella, but at last Gerda got to her feet, flexing her aching fingers. She felt a little wave of pity surge up in her when she looked down at Stella, but only for a moment. The wind had ceased to howl and every moment was precious.

     She picked the dead girl up in her arms and almost ran out to the car. She dumped her in on top of Denny and slammed the door shut, then she ran back to the house. A few minutes were enough to splash the rooms with the gasoline, and when she came out smoke began drifting through the window-shutters. She drove the car to the end of the road and then looked back. The house was burning fiercely. Long flames were licking through the roof and a column of black smoke drifted in the wind towards her. She was satisfied that the place would be completely gutted in a very short time, and she drove on to the highway.

     The rain still fell, but the wind had died down. Far away she could see the lights of Fort Pierce. She thought even if the worst came to the worst, she could walk there.

     The Indian River glowed in the darkness as she drove the car, and finally selecting the most favourable spot she turned the car so that it faced the river. She got out and looked up and down the long straight highway, but she could see no signs of an approaching car. She didn't once look in the back of the Lincoln and, as she adjusted the hand throttle, she felt herself shivering. She stood on the running-board and adjusted the gear, then, as the car began to bump forward, she dropped off and stood watching.

     The car seemed to hesitate just as it reached the steep bank, then went crashing over into the leaping, flaming river. She ran forward and could see it plunging down, leaving behind it a great sheet of flame. It looked to her that it had gone into a furious furnace rather than the river, and she took two steps back with a feeling that it had gone for ever.

     It was almost an hour later when she heard a truck coming along the road. She had been walking steadily for that time and she was feeling cold and nervy. The rain had stopped, but her clothes were still wet, clinging to her as she moved. She stood in the middle of the road and waved as the truck rattled towards her. It pulled up with a squeal of brakes and she ran up to it.

     A dim outline of a man leant down from the cab and peered at her.

     “Fort Pierce?” she asked, trying to see what he looked like. “Can you give me a lift?”

     He pushed open the off door of the cab. “Sure,” he said, “come on up.”

     She climbed in beside him and he started the cab rolling. He was very big and the shadowy outline of his face gave him the appearance of an ape. He, too, was regarding her under the broken peak of his cap.

     “Where you come from, baby?” he asked in a hoarse, snuffling voice.

     “Daytona Beach,” Gerda returned, rubbing her arms and shivering. “Got caught in the hurricane, sheltered for some time and then decided to walk on.”

     “Huh,” the man said, spitting out of the cab. “Saw a house on fire way back. I guess it must have been the lightning.”

     Gerda didn't say anything. She was feeling tired and would have liked to have gone to sleep.

     “Ain't you scared being around in a spot like this on your own?” he asked her.

     Gerda stiffened. “I don't scare easily,” she said coldly. “The last guy who tried to get fresh with me is still wondering what hit him.”

     “Sorta tough, huh?” the driver said with a hoarse laugh. “Well, I like a dame to be tough.”

     “That's nice for me, isn't it?” Gerda rejoined sarcastically.

     The driver laughed again. “I guess before we go any further I'll collect your fare,” he said, stopping the truck with a jerk. “Let's get in the back for a while.”

     Gerda shook her head. “Get goin',” she said sharply. “I don't wear that sort of thing. I'll give you a fin when we reach Fort Pierce. That's all you'll get.”

     The driver screwed round in his seat. “Yeah?” he said, his voice suddenly menacing. “I ain't used to that sort of yappin' from a dame. Get into the back of the truck quick, before I get rough. You're taking what I'm goin' to give you, an' you goin' to like it.”