Richard Laymon - The Lake Страница 29

My God.

What can happen in ten days!

Your world turned upside down; a boy dead; your daughter devastated by it all.

Although she appears to be getting over it…

And Nelson…Thank God Mom and Dad hadn’t been around to see it all happen.

She hated herself for even thinking this way, but it was a blessing Mom and Dad made that emergency dash to Colorado. And if it didn’t seem so awful on Aunt Abby, she hoped Mom and Dad would stay there a while longer…

Deana smiled at Leigh.

“Good thing Gran and Pops are in Boulder. They would’ve made things ten times worse. Pops shouting, Gran crying and everything…Missed out on the barbecue, though.”

“What are you, young woman, a mind reader? I was just thinking the same thing. But never mind the barbecue, Gran and Pops had to go to Aunt Abby. She was seriously ill.”

Their eyes met, and Leigh smiled. “Got to agree, honey. They been here, Mom and Dad could’ve made things a whole lot worse!”

“You gonna tell them about Allan and Nelson and everything?”

“Uh-huh. But not for a while, honey. Just let’s see how things go.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

It was dark on Del Mar tonight. Really dark.

A gentle wind disturbed the trees.

Scudding clouds hid the moon and stars from view.

Apart from the rustling leaves, it was quiet, too.

Deathly quiet.

Only Deana’s breath sounded harsh and loud as she hurried toward Warren’s house.

She hadn’t called him, as she’d told Mom she would. Instead, she’d decided to slip out again. Meet up with Warren as he walked Sabre.

I’m the midnight runner again.

A thrill of excitement brought goose bumps to her skin. The hair on the back of her neck rose and prickled.

It was scary out here on the street.

In the dead of night.

It may be scary, but the thrill of running alone through the night was worth every second.

Anyway, with Nelson gone, there wasn’t too much to be scared of.

Except Mommy Dearest and her dog.

Maybe a rapist or two.

And the black car.

Don’t forget the black car…

But she was a fast runner.

She could hide in shadows, dart down alleyways, or tackle anyone who looked like they were going to attack her.

Mom still didn’t know about her midnight runs.

Warren did, though.

And Mace.

Fuck Mace.

Somehow, though, she didn’t think he’d inform on her.

He’d keep it all to himself.

It was their little secret.

She shuddered.

She hated keeping things from Mom.

And she loathed the idea of being in league with Mace. The mere thought of it made her flesh crawl.

Anyway, she had too many midnight runs under her belt to start explaining things to Mom now.

Besides, I get a real kick out of it…

Could be I’m addicted to midnight running.

Can a person become addicted to running at night?

I guess so…

Nearly there now. I can see the two redwoods, their branches reaching out onto the street.

Where’s Warren?

Not here yet.

Deana felt a twinge of disappointment. It had been so romantic, thinking they’d meet up again this way.

And he’d be really surprised, and pleased, that she’d shown up again.

Tonight, when she saw him, she intended to invite him to dinner. She felt a squirm of excitement at the prospect of him coming to her home. Again.

This time, she wanted to show off a little.

’Cause Mom really knows how to throw a dinner party.

She’d look elegant, chatting to Warren. Charming him, but not too much, with her intelligent conversation.

She knows about books, too…

Deana ran on, her mind turning to her wardrobe. Mentally going through all of her clothes, deciding what she’d wear the night of the party.

A really big decision.

Maybe her new black dress with the low square neck? She knew it showed off her breasts and her small waist to perfection.

Well, maybe not that yet. Don’t want to scare him off.

Black’s way too formal, anyway. Because we’ll go somewhere after the meal.

Don’t bank on it, Deana.

Mom’d be suspicious. A new boyfriend and bunking off together already.

Like I did with Allan. The night Gran and Pops came to dinner…

Allan.

Deana West, you are a shit.

Allan dead only ten, eleven days and you’re out on some midnight tryst? Meeting up with a guy you’ve seen only three times before…And don’t forget. He already came to the house the other day…

Mom doesn’t know about that. She’d be real upset to know I’ve had Warren over and not told her about it. Not that anything happened. Didn’t get to discuss Mace, like I’d planned. We just talked about books and everything. Warren told me about his store, and promised to get me a copy of Get Shorty by Elmore Leonard.

And now you’re drooling on about going out with him after the wonderful dinner Mom is gonna put on—specially for the benefit of her darling daughter.

The darling daughter who lies through her teeth.

What a bitch I am…Soon as I introduce Warren to Mom, there’ll be no more lies. Promise.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Christ, it’s even darker up here.

Deana sped up.

The wind had gotten worse. It shook the trees, whipping the leaves around in a frenzy.

Deana shivered but kept up her pace.

It was a night when almost anything could happen.

She ran on, her mind full of Warren. Picturing his face when she invited him to dinner. Hoping he’d say yes—after all, he did say he’d like a date.

Dinner or the movies, he’d said.

Remember?

How could I forget!

What a hoot, she’d thought at the time.

But, admit it, Deana. You were secretly thrilled at the idea of going out with Warren.

Sure. He is kinda sexy, and a date could be a lotta fun. Then Mom suggested dinner…

So here she was, running up Del Mar.

Risking God knows what…

Her heart skipped a beat. She began thinking of the funeral car and how spooky it had looked, crawling along outside Warren’s house, its windows all black and shiny…

She gave a grim smile.

Probably just some jerk, cruising around…

She ran on.

Then, mixed in with the keening wind, she caught a faint whimper. Like a small animal was lost or something.

A hand clawed at her ankle.

Her mouth went dry.

She gasped.

Her knees sagged and she fell—onto a lumpy kind of hump.

The hand slid away.

“Who…What the hell…!”

Shit. She’d landed on a sack of household garbage.

“Goddamn stupid thing to do put your garbage out on the sidewalk,” she muttered.

“Git offa me…”

Deana started at the weak, whiny voice.

She scrambled to her feet.

“My God!…Oh, it’s you!”

Mommy Dearest.

Lying in a heap on the sidewalk.

Clutching Harry, wrapped in a blanket.

The blanket fell open and Harry rolled out, his legs in the air. His eyes jerked around. His mouth hung open, his small red tongue panting against needle-fine teeth.

Harry was in a bad way.

“Help us, please!” Mommy Dearest pleaded. “Had one a’ my derned attacks agin.”

The hag shook her head, her wispy hair floating in the wind. She looked a little confused.

“Should never’a come out t’night,” she muttered.

“Here, let me help,” Deana told her. “Lean on my arm, I’ll take you home. Where d’you live?”

“Back there a ways, dear,” the hag gestured behind her, somewhere up the steep hill.

“Well, hold on to me.” Deana helped Mommy Dearest to her feet. “How about Harry? He looks sick, too. Want me to hold him, too?”

“Don’t y’let him fall, now, will ya?”

“Course not.”

The hag clung to Deana’s arm. Deana held Harry tight, rolled in his blanket. Leaning into the wind, they made it up the hill a little way. The hag drew to a halt outside a fancy iron double gate.

Deana stared through the railings.

The driveway was pitch dark.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Could be anything down there…

Mommy Dearest lifted the latch, the gate creaked open, and Deana helped her inside. The hag kicked the gate shut with a resounding clash.

Deana did a double take.

That sure was some kick! Mommy Dearest musta perked up a little.

Still clutching Deana’s arm, the hag limped her way down the drive. Deana held on to Harry. He was jerking around in his blanket, making loud, snuffling noises.

Her heart hammered. Blood pounded in her ears.

Hope to God he doesn’t die on me, ’cause I really gotta go—don’t wanna miss Warren…

They halted outside a huge front door. Dry, straggly growth matted around the two columns either side.

“Jeez,” Deana breathed. “What a place!”

The house was tall, dark, and deathly quiet. It looked like something out of a horror movie. She pictured Lurch, from The Addams Family, opening up the door…and Gomez hovering in the spooky hallway, grinning around his cigar, rubbing his hands together.

She squinted at a faded wood sign above the door.

She could just make out the words: “The Flora Dawes Rest Home for Distressed Gentlefolk.”

Deana grimaced.

This is so spooky.

Time I was gone.

Her heart beat faster.

Gotta catch up with Warren, before it’s too late.

Desperately, she wished he and Sabre were with her now.

At her side, Mommy Dearest let out a gasp. She was clutching her chest.

Deana’s heart sank.

“Maybe I should just see you inside,” she said quickly. “Then hurry on home. Promised Mom I’d be back by ten-thirty…”

With a loud groan, the door swung open. Mommy’s hand gripped Deana’s arm. She dragged her forward into the shadowy hallway.

Gray light sliced the gloom. Darkness fell as the door clanged shut. The noise echoed eerily through the house, and Deana’s heart stood still. Panic set in. A closed, musty smell met her nostrils. She’d smelled something like it in a thrift store in Sausalito—a mix of old clothes, cooking, bodies, musty books, and other junk.

As she became accustomed to the gloom, Deana saw dozens of bright eyes staring at her. It seemed like an army of dwarfs had gathered in the lobby to greet them. The dwarfs were curious. Impatient, craning their necks to get a better view.

Jesus H. Christ!

She held on to Harry and stared closer.

These aren’t dwarfs…they’re little old women!

Like one of the living dead, a wizened hag stepped forward. She reached out a scrawny, blue-veined hand…

Deana reeled back. Into the arms of Mommy Dearest.

No sign of “one of her derned attacks” now…

Like bands of steel, Mommy’s arms grabbed her.

Harry yelped, leapt out of his blanket, and scooted into the shadows.

Struggling, panicking, Deana twisted around, trying to free herself. The hag held on tight.

“No you don’t!” Her voice was high and strong.

It had an insane ring to it.

The hairs on the back of Deana’s neck crawled.

Goose bumps rose on her body.

My God, the woman’s a fucking lunatic. She’s raving mad!

Christ! How did I get into all this? I shoulda left her to die out there…Hell, I do one good turn and look where it gets me!

A horrible thought crossed her mind.

Nobody knows I’m here.

I’m trapped with all these…loonies!

“Say something, girl!” demanded a witch with an eye patch and long white hair. Deana backed away.

Mommy Dearest shoved her forward.

“Best I could do,” she told the hags. “Not too many young ’uns out on Del Mar t’night!”

“What d’ya think of Mr. President?” called out a shaky voice from the back. “Ya reckon he’s onto them delinquents throwing bombs inta classrooms yet?”

A raucous voice shouted: “Whassyername, honey?”

“Aw, give it a rest, Clarabel,” somebody said. “Can’t ya see the kid’s scared? Reckon we oughta bring her inter the back, give her a cuppa coffee ’n’ a slice of pie…”

A low mumbling filled the hallway, punctuated by hissy, whispering sounds. A shriek of laughter rang out.

The hags looked at Deana, waiting for her to speak. They were like gaunt gray vultures. Restless. Needy. Hungry, like they hadn’t seen young flesh in a long time.

Deana froze at the thought.

They came for me in a pack. I guess they could tear me to pieces.

Oh my God!

Her eyes narrowed. She gritted her teeth.

Just let them try!

The hags shifted forward.

The white-haired one taunted her.

“Don’t ya like it here, dearie? Ain’t fixin’ to leave us, are ya?”

Deana saw red. She screamed, “Bank on it, you fuckin’ old witch. I’m outa here…”

She whirled around, but Mommy Dearest grabbed her arm. “Mind ya manners, young’un,” she snarled, “Pay more respect to ya elders!”

Deana shook herself free. She glared at the hag.

What’s the bitch got against me? I did my Girl Scout thing. Helped her when she was in trouble.

I coulda left her there to die.

Wish I had now…

Boy, does this place suck…

If the bastard’s brought me here to entertain her gang of trolls, she’s gonna be mighty disappointed. Show’s over, folks. I’m outa here before I get eaten alive!

A scrawny hag in a long, cotton frock limped forward. Stretching out a knobby finger, she touched Deana’s arm. “Don’t go, dearie,” she said. “Talk to us. We won’t hurt ya none. Promise. We jest wanna see some young blood, is all. Haven’t set eyes on a youngster like you in a long, long time…Tell me…seen any good movies lately?”

The old woman’s eyes held a pleading look. She smiled, her face creasing into a network of wrinkles.