Authors: Richard Laymon

Fiends SSC (29 page)

BOOK: Fiends SSC

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Charles knew she was joking. But his heart pounded even harder. Heat spread through his groin. ‘From a paper cut?’

‘Of course. Happens all the time. It’s the leading cause of death among librarians and editors. Honest to God.’ She looked at him. ‘You
do
know how to smile, don’t you?’

‘Sure,’ he muttered.

‘Let’s see one.’

He tried.

‘Miserable,’ she said. ‘You know, you’d be a pretty handsome fellow if you’d smile once in a while.’

He gazed at her. He pictured how her face would look with bright red blood streaming down it. He imagined himself licking the blood from her cheeks and lips.

‘That’s more of a leer than a smile, actually,’ Lynn said. ‘But it’ll do. You just need more practice.’

Even after all the books were shelved, Charles stayed in the second-floor stacks.

If he went downstairs, he would see Lynn. She would be sitting on her stool behind the circulation desk, checking books in and out, or maybe wandering the floor, cheerfully offering suggestions to students in need of assistance.

As long as I don’t see her, he told himself, nothing will happen.

A few students came up. Some searched for books, while others slipped into carrels along the far wall and studied. There were girls, but he paid them no attention. It would be Lynn, or no one.

He ducked into a carrel himself. For some unknown reason, it had been placed in a corner away from the lights. That suited him well. He felt snug and hidden.

He folded his arms on the desk top and put his head down.

Maybe I’ll sleep, he thought.

He closed his eyes. He pictured Lynn suspended from a ceiling beam, wrists tied, arms stretched high, feet off the floor. He had no rope, though. Too bad. Go back to his apartment and get some? The emergency exits had alarms. He couldn’t leave the library without passing Lynn’s desk.

Maybe use my belt, instead?

That had worked before. He’d put a loop around the girl’s hands and nailed the other end high on a wall.

No hammer. No nails.

A rope would be better, anyway. Even though he didn’t have one, he liked the image of Lynn hanging helpless. He knew she was wearing a polo shirt. In his mind, however, she wore a regular blouse. With buttons. And he saw himself slicing off the buttons, one by one.

Charles flinched awake when someone stroked the back of his head. Her jerked upright in his chair. Lynn was standing close beside him, frowning down with concern on her shadowy face.

‘You really zonked out,’ she said. Her voice was little more than a whisper in the silence.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t…’

‘That’s okay.’ Her hand stayed on the back of his head, caressing his hair. ‘I was a little worried about you, though. You just disappeared.’

‘I was shelving books up here. I felt so tired…’

‘No problem.' A smile tilted the corners of her mouth. ‘I thought maybe you were trying to avoid me. You’ve been acting so strange ever since last night.’

‘I’ve been
feeling
pretty strange.’

‘Are you still upset because I cut myself?’

‘In a way, I guess.’ He stood up. The chair made a loud squawk as it was scooted away by the backs of his knees. The noise made him cringe.

‘I haven’t been quite myself, either,’ Lynn said.

He turned to face her. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ Gazing into his eyes, she took hold of his hands. ‘The way you acted last night… You were so sweet, getting me the bandage and everything, putting it on my finger even though you have that phobia about cuts. I just suddenly realized… how really special you are, Charles.’

‘Me?’

‘Yeah, you.’ She lifted her hands to his face. Gently caressing his cheeks, she eased against him. She tilted back her head. She pressed her mouth against his lips. After a slow, soft kiss, she looked up into his eyes. ‘We’re all alone,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve already locked up for the night.’

All he could say was, ‘Oh.’ He was trembling. His heart was punching, his breath ragged. His groin was tight and the way Lynn pressed against him, he knew she must be able to feel his erection.

She stepped back to make a space between their bodies. Her hands roamed over his chest. ‘I was awake all night,’ she said. ‘Thinking about you.’

‘I was awake thinking about you, too.’

‘You were?’ He heard a tremor in her voice.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, man.’ She made a soft, nervous laugh. ‘I should’ve cut myself a long time ago.’

Her trembling fingers unbuttoned his shirt. She spread it open. She kissed his chest.

With one hand, Charles stroked her back. With the other, he dug into the pocket of his pants. He squeezed the plastic handle of his knife.

Staring into his eyes, Lynn plucked at the bottom of her polo shirt. She pulled it free of her shorts, drew it over her head and dropped it to the floor.

Charles felt as if his breath had been sucked from his lungs. He struggled for air.

Lynn fumbled at the waist of her shorts. The garment slipped down her legs. She stepped out of it, nudged it away with her sneaker.

The plastic knife handle felt greasy with sweat.

‘Do you like how I look?’ Lynn whispered.

Charles nodded. ‘You look… beautiful.’

So beautiful. Slender and smooth, naked except for her skimpy white bra and panties, her white socks and sneakers.

She had a calm, dreamy look on her face. A hint of a smile. Arching her back, she reached both arms up behind her.

‘Don’t,’ Charles murmured.

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘I was just going to unhook…’

‘I know. Let me?’

Her smile brightened. ‘Sure.’

Charles pulled out his knife. As he opened the blade, he watched Lynn - ready to grab her if she should try to flee.

Her smile went crooked. She stood motionless, eyes on the knife. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘I have to.’

She lifted her gaze to his face. She seemed to be studying him. Then she shrugged one shoulder. ‘Go ahead, Charles.’

‘Huh?’

‘If you have to, you have to. I’ll buy a new one.’

‘Oh.’

She put her hands on his hips. He felt them shaking slightly. They squeezed him when he cut through each of the shoulder straps. Then he slid his blade under the narrow band between the cups of her bra. She closed her eyes. Her mouth hung open. He heard her raspy breathing. He tugged, severing the band.

The bra fell away.

Lynn opened her eyes. A smile fluttered on her face. ‘This is pretty kinky,’ she said, her voice husky.

She shivered when he rubbed the blade’s blunt edge down the top of her left breast. In the glow of the nearest florescent light, he saw the smooth skin go pebbly with goosebumps. Her nipple grew. He pressed it down with the flat of the blade, and watched it spring up again. Lynn groaned.

She tugged open his belt. She unfastened the button at the waist of his jeans, jerked his zipper down, feverishly yanked his jeans and underwear down his thighs.

Can’t be happening this way, Charles thought. Never had anything like this happen. He wondered if he might be asleep, dreaming.

But he knew that he was very much awake.

Lynn’s fingers curled around him.

‘Do my panties,’ she whispered. ‘With the knife.’

He cut them at the sides. The flimsy fabric drooped, but the panties didn’t fall. They clung between her legs until she reached down. A small pull, and they drifted toward the floor.

‘This is so weird,’ she gasped. ‘I’ve never… nothing like this.’ Her soft, encircling fingers slid on him. Up, and down.

The knife shook as Charles moved it toward her chest. Just above her left breast, he pressed the point against her skin. Gendy. ‘Careful there,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t want to cut me.’

‘I do, actually.’

Her hand slipped away. She stood up very straight, searching his eyes. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’

‘No.’

‘But you
hate
cuts.’

‘I’m sorry. As a matter of fact, I love them. They… they do something to me.’

‘You mean like they turn you on?’

‘Yes.’

‘But that’s crazy!’

‘I guess so. I’m awfully sorry, Lynn.’

‘Hold on, now.’

‘I
have
to do it. I have to cut you up.’

‘Oh my God.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re so beautiful, and… I guess I love you.’

‘Charles. No.’

He stared at the knife point denting her skin. A slit all the way down to the tip of her breast…

Lynn grabbed his hand, twisted it. As Charles yelped, the elbow of her other arm crashed against his cheek. Stumbling backward, he heard his knife clatter to the floor. His pants tripped him. He slammed the side of the study carrel and fell.

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. ‘God, I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I… 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 embarrassed 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 sex?’ 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 crushing 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.’

BOOK: Fiends SSC

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