Fiends. Part 41

Lynn scurried, crouched, and came up holding the knife.

Charles got to his knees. He gazed up at her. So beautiful. Scowling at him, naked except for her white socks and sneakers. The blade of the knife in her hand gleamed.

*Oh, Charles,' she murmured.

Tears stung his eyes. He hunched over, clasped his face with both hands, and wept.

*Charles?'

*I'm sorry,' he blurted. *G.o.d, I'm so sorry! I don't know why Ia I'm sorry!'

*Charles.' Her voice held a note of command.

He rubbed tears from his eyes and lifted his head.

Lynn stared down at him. She nodded slightly. A corner of her mouth was trembling.

She flicked her wrist. She flinched and grimaced as the blade cut a tiny slit. She closed the knife and lowered it to her side.

Charles watched the thin ribbon of blood. It started just below her collar bone and trickled down. It ran along the top of her breast, split in two, and one strand began a new course down the pale round side while another made its slow way closer to her nipple.

*Come here,' Lynn whispered.

Charles was embarra.s.sed horribly the next day in the pharmacy.

Lynn was giggling.

She plopped three boxes of condoms down on the counter. The clerk, a young man, glanced from her to Charles. He looked amused.

*You got something against safe s.e.x?' Lynn asked.

The clerk blushed. *No. Huh-uh.'

Charles wanted to curl up and die.

*Ring these up, too, while you're at it.' Onto the counter, Lynn tossed three tins of adhesive bandages.

OUT OF THE WOODS.

A sound like footsteps outside the tent shocked me out of half-sleep. Another camper? Not likely. We were far from the main trails and hadn't seen a backpacker in three days.

Maybe it was no one at all. Maybe a twig or pine cone had dropped from a nearby tree. Or maybe the smell of food had drawn an animal to our camp. A big animal.

I heard it again - a dry crus.h.i.+ng sound.

I was afraid to move, but forced myself to roll over and see if Sadie was awake.

She was gone.

I looked down the length of my mummy bag. The unzipped screen was swaying inward. A cool damp-smelling breeze touched my face, and I remembered Sadie leaving the tent. How long ago? No way to tell. Maybe I had dozed for an hour, maybe for a minute. At any rate, it was high time for her to come in so we could close the flaps.

*Hey, Sadie, why don't you get in here?'

I heard only the stream several yards from our campsite. It made a racket like a gale blowing through a forest.

*Sadie?' I called.

Nothing.

*Saay-deee!'

She must have wandered out of earshot. Okay. It was a fine night, cold but clear, with a moon so round and white you could sit up for hours enjoying it. That's what we'd done, in fact, before turning in. I couldn't blame her for taking her time out there.

*Enjoy yourself,' I muttered, and shut my eyes. My feet were a bit cold. I rubbed them together through my sweatsocks, curled up, and adjusted the roll of jeans beneath my head. I was just beginning to get comfortable when somebody close to the tent coughed.

It wasn't Sadie.

My heart froze.

*Who's out there?' I called.

*Only me,' said a man's low voice, and the tent began to shake violently. *Come outa there!'

*What do you want?'

*Make it quick.'

*Stop jerking the tent.' I took my knife from its sheath on the belt of my jeans.

The tent went motionless. *I've got a shotgun,' the man said. *Come outa there before I count five or I'll blast apart the tent with you in it. One.'

I scurried out of my sleeping bag.

*Two.'

*Hey, can't you wait till I get dressed?'

*Three. Come out with your hands empty, four.'

I stuck the knife down the side of my sweatsock, handle first to keep it from falling out, and crawled through the flaps.

*Five, you just made it.'

I stood up, feeling twigs and pine cones under my feet, and looked into the grinning, bearded face of a man who bore a disturbing resemblance to Rasputin. He had no shotgun. Only my hand-ax. I scanned the near bank of the stream behind him. No sign of Sadie.

*Where's the shotgun?' I asked. Then I clamped my mouth shut to keep my teeth quiet.

The man gave a dry, vicious laugh. *Take that knife outa your sock.'

I looked down. I was wearing only shorts and socks, and the moonlight made the knife blade s.h.i.+ne silvery against my calf.

*Take it out slowly,' he warned.

*No.'

*Want to see your wife again? If I give the signal, my buddy will kill her. Slit her open like a wet sack.'

*You've got Sadie?'

*Back in the trees. Now, the knife.'

*Not a chance.' I pressed my knees together to keep them from banging against each other. *You'll kill us both anyway.'

*Naw. All we want's your food and gear. See, we gotta do some camping. You understand, pal.' He grinned as if a glimpse of his big crooked teeth would help me understand better. It did.

*What did you do?' I asked, trying to stall for time. *Rob a bank?'

*That, too. Now are you gonna get rid of that knife or do I signal Jake to start cutting?'

*Better signal Jake,' I said, and grabbed my knife.

*You sure?'

*I'm sure. Just one favor, though. Do you mind if I tell my wife goodbye?'

He grinned again. *Go on.'

*Thanks,' I said. Then I yelled, *Goodbye, Sadie! Sadie! Goodbye, Sadie!'

*Enough.' He came forward, holding the ax high, shaking it gently as if testing the weight of its head. All the time, he grinned.

My knife flew end over end, glinting moonlight, and struck him square in the chest. Hilt first.

He kept coming. Finally I backed into a tree. Its bark felt damp and cold and rough against my skin.

*There's no Jake,' I said to distract him.

*So what?' he answered.

I raised my hands to block the ax and wondered if it would hurt for long.

Then a chilling, deep-throated howl shook the night. A mastiff splashed through the stream. Huge, brutish, black as death. The man had no time to turn. He only had time to scream before Sadie, snarling, took him down and began to rip his throat.

STIFF INTRUDERS.

*What are you doing here?' Charlie demanded of the dead woman.

She didn't answer. She was leaning back in Charlie's lawn chair, the very chair he wanted for himself, the chair he sat in every morning to drink his first two mugs of coffee. This was his favorite part of the day: so quiet, the air still cool and fresh from the night, the sun gently warming. But now, this!

*Hey!' he shouted.

She didn't stir. She simply sat there, hands folded on her lap, ankles crossed casually. Charlie sipped his coffee and walked around her. She wore a sleek, blue evening gown. Inappropriate wear, Charlie thought. A sun dress or swimsuit would be just the thing, but a formal, off-the-shoulder gown was unsuitable, even pretentious. Not that she could be held accountable.

Charlie went into the kitchen for a refill of coffee. As he pushed through the door to the backyard and saw her still sitting there, the injustice of it overwhelmed him. He decided to nudge her off the chair and let her fend for herself.

That's exactly what he did. The woman flopped and sprawled, and Charlie took his seat.

After a few moments, he moaned in despair. He simply couldn't enjoy his coffee in front of her.

Emptying his cup on the gra.s.s, he got to his feet and rushed into the house. He wanted to pound roughly on Lou's bedroom door. That might rub Lou the wrong way, however, so he rapped lightly.

*Knock off the racket!' Lou yelled.

*May I come in?'

*Suit yourself.'

Charlie opened the door and stepped into a room stinking of stale cigar smoke. Lou was in bed, covers pulled high so that only his face showed. The chubby face, flat nose and bulging eyes always reminded Charlie of a pug named Snappy he'd once owned. Snappy, who nipped anything in sight, generally had a sweeter disposition than Lou. Especially in the morning.

*Get up, Lou. I want to show you something.'

*What?'

*Get up, get up!'

Lou moaned and sat up. *This better be good,' he said.

*Oh, it's not good, but you'd better see it.'

Muttering, Lou climbed from bed. He put on his slippers and robe, and followed Charlie to the backyard.

*See,' Charlie said.

*Who is she?' asked Lou.

*How should I know?'

*You found her.'

*Just because she was sitting in my chair doesn't mean I know the lady.'

*What was she doing in your chair?'

*Not much.'

*How come she's on the gra.s.s?'

*She was in my seat, Lou.'