Authors: Richard Laymon
Alarums (27 page)
She didn't respond.
Bodie climbed from the van. He put the keys in his pants pocket and took out his wallet as he walked toward the office cubicle. Along the way, he glanced back a few times.
He didn't really expect Melanie to bolt, but she'd been full of surprises lately.
He slipped his credit card into the trough beneath the glass partition. The swarthy, grinning man on the other side picked it up. Bodie told him the number of the pump he planned to use, then headed for the van.
Even though he'd tried to keep an eye on it, he cautioned himself to make sure, before driving off, that Melanie was still inside.
She's not going anywhere,
he thought.
She's in shock or something.
He pushed the pump nozzle into his tank and held the lever down.
She'll probably be fine tomorrow. Just pissed as hell and full of accusations. She'll probably dump me, and save me the trouble.
When the flow clicked off, Bodie shoved the nozzle into place on the side of the pump. He screwed his gas cap on tightly and started for the office.
It's less than a month till the end of the semester. One way or another, we'll be finished by then and I'll come back to Pen.
Bodie scooped up his credit card and signed the slip. He tore off the customer receipt and dropped the rest into the trough. The man thanked him.
He headed back for the van.
He climbed in, turned on the light and checked the rear. Melanie was still lying there. She looked as if she hadn't moved a muscle the whole time he was filling the tank.
He turned off the overhead lights, dug out his keys, and started the engine.
Maybe I'll luck out,
he thought,
and she'll stay this way the whole trip.
He drove onto a sidestreet, stopped at the corner, then made a right onto Robertson. On the track again, he wondered whether to make a right or a left when he reached the freeway.
Just wait for the signs.
Whichever way goes east - you know you don't want to end up at the ocean.
Maybe by summer there will be a vacancy in Pen's apartment building.
He stopped for a traffic light.
The real question is, can I wait for the semester to end? I have to. Gotta finish the MA.
He heard a quiet sound of movement behind him.
At least Melanie's not paralyzed.
I could always drive over on weekends. Once I've settled the situation with Melan…
Pain blasted through Bodie's head.
***
Pen jerked awake, gasping and shaking, her heart thundering.
A bell was ringing.
Someone at the door!
It blared again.
The telephone?
She hurled herself off the bed and rushed across her room, afraid the caller might hang up before she could reach the phone - afraid he might not.
Who?
She hoped it was Bodie. It could be anyone.
The obscene caller. Harrison or Joyce. The hospital.
My God, don't let it be bad news!
Maybe a wrong number, a salesman.
The phone rang again.
The hallway was faintly lighted from the living room lamp she hadn't bothered to turn off.
She slapped a hand against the kitchen doorframe to stop herself, reached around the corner and snatched up the phone. 'Hello?'
'This is you, isn't it?'
She knew the voice. Her skin seemed to shrink. She felt it tighten and prickle.
'Not a recording, this time?'
'No.'
'Do you know who I am?'
'What do you want?' she asked, her voice trembling.
'I want to talk. I've missed you. Have you been away?'
Hang up,
she thought.
Sure. If I do, he'll just call again.
Or come over. He knows I'm here.
Pen remembered the shotgun. She'd left it in the living room, propped against the wall near the door, hidden behind the curtains.
Let him come over. Give him a big surprise.
'Or were you just afraid to pick up the phone? You're not scared of me, honey, are you?'
'Why should I be scared?' she asked, trying to steady her voice.
He laughed. It was a quiet, dry laugh that made a cold place in her stomach.
'I've been hoping you'd call again,' she told him.
'Really?'
'Those things you said… I've listened to the tape so many times. I love it.'
'Makes you hot?'
'It sure does. I'm getting hot right now.'
'What are you wearing?' he asked.
Not a stitch. Pen wished she'd grabbed her robe on the way to the phone.
He can't see me.
'Jeans. And a sweater.'
'A brassiere?' he hissed.
She almost said yes. She wanted to be wearing one. She wanted to be dressed in tight, heavy clothes. She had never felt so exposed and vulnerable.
Don't back out now, she told herself.
Shivering, she said, 'No.'
'Ah, fabulous. A sweater and no brassiere. I can see it. Yes. Oh, my cock is getting big and hot. Do you know what I'd like to do? I'd like to lift your sweater and suck your tits.'
'Would you like me to take it off?' she asked.
'Oh, yes.'
What the hell am I doing?
she wondered.
Am I mad?
'There,' she said, 'it's off.'
He sighed. 'Are your nipples hard?'
She looked down. They were hard. But not because of desire. 'They sure are,' she said.
'I'd like to rub my cock on them. Would you like that?'
'I sure would.'
'Oh, I know it, I know it. Wouldn't you like to take off your pants?'
'Sure. Just a second.'
'And your underpants, too. I want you naked.'
She heard his raspy breathing. As she listened, she leaned against the doorframe. She rubbed her cold legs together. Looking down, she saw that her thighs were spickled with goosebumps.
'Okay,' she said. 'I'm naked. Are you?'
'Of course. And oh, my cock is huge. He wants you.'
'He?'
'Spike.'
Almost funny,
she thought.
The creep's got a name for his penis. A dog's name, Spike.
But also a term for a very large nail.
'I bet Spike's big and powerful,' she said. 'I wish I could feel him.' She heard the words.
This isn't me. This is a character in one of my stories, talking to a madman.
This isn't me. This is a character in one of my stories, talking to a madman.
'What would you do with him?'
'I'd pet him. He likes to be petted, I bet.'
'Oh, yes.'
'Then I'd suck on him.'
'Oh, honey!'
'I'd suck on Spike till he throbbed in my mouth and I'd swallow every delicious drop and then I'd lick him clean.'
I'm as mad as he is.
Method in my madness, tra-la, tra-la.
'Would you like that?' she asked in a husky voice.
'Oh, yes, yes. Then what?'
'Wouldn't you like to know?'
'Tell me.'
'Why don't you come over and find out?'
'Tell me first.'
'I'd rub you all over with honey. And then you'd rub me all over with more, so we're all slick and sticky. Then we'd lick it off each other and when it's all gone, I'd spread my legs and…'
'Yes yes!'
'Oh God I'm hot! Let's not talk about it.'
'Please.'
'I want you to fuck me. I want Spike in my cunt. You want that, don't you?'
'YES!'
'Come over.'
'What?'
'Now.'
There was silence except for his harsh breathing.
'Or are you just one of those guys who likes to talk about it? All words and no action?'
He laughed, that same dry chuckle like rustling paper. 'You'll find out. I'll ream you, honey. I'll fuck your brains out!'
'So get over here and do it. No more talk.'
More breathing.
God, am I really going to blow his head off?
You damn betcha.
Magnum loads.
I can't do it.
Oh, no? Oh, no?
'Come on, lover,' she whispered. 'I'm hot I want you! I've gotta have you! Get over here!'
'Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Just tell me where you live.'
What?
'You know where I live.'
'I will once you tell me.'
'My address is right in the phone book.'
'So what's your name, you sweet stuff?'
'You don't know my name!'
'Fuck, no. I just dialed some numbers. Wrote 'em down so I could call you back, but…'
Pen slammed down the phone. With a tug at its plastic base, she removed it from the wall jack.
For a long time, she stood leaning against the doorframe, gasping, arms folded across her breasts, legs tight together. She trembled badly. She knew that she should be feeling relief, even triumph.
Instead, she felt sick.
Knowing such a man was out there, even though she would get her number changed and he would be out of her life forever.
Knowing what she had said to him.
The foulness.
And knowing, worst of all, that she had actually tried to lure him to her.
To kill him with the shotgun.
She felt soiled.
Pushing herself away from the wall, she walked on shaky legs down the hallway toward the bathroom.
***
Bodie woke up and groaned at the pain in his head. He felt as if his lids were all that held his eyes inside his sockets, that if he opened them, his eyes might burst out from the pressure behind them.
He also felt ready to throw up.
Must've really tied one on last night. He couldn't remember getting smashed, but…
What the hell was he lying on? Not a bed.
He rubbed the surface.
Grass. Dewy grass.
He opened his eyes. The pain and nausea swelled. He thrust himself to his hands and knees and vomited. The spasms wracked him, driving white-hot nails into the base of his skull. When he had finished, he knelt above the mess and clutched his head. The hand above his right ear pressed against an enormous lump.
Not a hangover. I've been…
He'd been driving, taking Melanie back to Phoenix.
A crash? He must've crashed and been thrown clear of the van.
Melanie!
Melanie!
He turned his head, groaning at the new surge of pain. The van was nowhere in sight. Neither was a road. Bodie was on his knees behind a hedge. To his right was a field with playground equipment near the far corner. Turning some more, he saw a building - a school?
Where the hell am I? What am I doing here?
Bodie pushed himself carefully to his feet and stood motionless, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. He dragged a handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose, and dropped the handkerchief to the grass. Then he walked slowly through an opening in the bushes.
He found himself on a sidewalk. In front of him was a narrow street, homes on the other side. Cars were parked along the street, but not his van. To his left, about a block away, was a busy road with cars passing through its intersection. He walked toward it and tried to remember.
I was at Pen's apartment. With her on the sofa. We kissed. Oh, we did kiss. It had been so… and then Melanie came in. She was supposed to be asleep but she hadn't taken the pills. Should've taken the damn pills. Acting very weird. Time to get her out of there, take her back to Phoenix
. She was in the back of the van, wouldn't talk. I stopped for gas. Then what?
He could remember signing his credit card slip, but nothing after that.
But we didn't crash. If we crashed, where's the van?
He gingerly fingered the bump on the side of his head.
Melanie… could she have hit me with something? Must've. Knocked me out. While I was driving? Maybe I was stopped at a light. She could've knocked me out, shoved me over to the passenger seat and got behind the wheel.
Wasn't ready to go back to Phoenix.
Found the school yard, unloaded me, and dragged me behind the bushes.
Strong enough to do that?
They say crazy people…
Crazy.
She's gone after someone.
Unfinished business.
Pen?
Bodie's head throbbed.
She's gone after Pen.
No, maybe not, maybe it's Harrison and Joyce. That's okay. Who gives a shit?
But what if it's Pen? What'll Melanie do to her?
Bodie stopped at the corner of the busy street. It was Robertson Boulevard, just as he'd suspected, and he could see the freeway overpass in the distance.
He had to warn Pen.
He raised his left hand to check his wristwatch.
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