"What are they — " Karen muttered.
"I don't know." He gave the water bottle to her. As she washed out her mouth and took a long drink, Scott gazed at the place where the body had fallen. He saw a rumpled shape on the ground. Good, they'd covered it. He patted the wet back of Karen's sweatshirt. "Let's get in where it's dry."
She crawled backward and sat down on her sleeping bag. She pulled off her sweatshirt and used it as a towel to dry her hair. Then she lay down. Scott covered her. "Come in with me?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, but pitched high, like that of a child about to cry.
Scott crawled in beside her. He closed the zipper. Rolling against her, he embraced her gently.
"Wh?? happened?" she asked in the same high voice.
Scott caressed her back. Her skin was damp and cool
near the shoulders, smooth and dry and warm lower down where the rain hadn't found her. "You don't remember?" he asked.
"I remember waiting for you. I didn't know if you would come. Who did this to me, Scott?"
"I don't know. A stranger."
She hugged him tightly. She burrowed her face against the side of his neck.
"You don't remember any of it?"
"No," she murmured. "I know what he did, though. I . . ." She started weeping. Her tears moistened Scott's neck. She shook with small sobs. "I can . . . feel what he did."
"I'm sorry," Scott whispered through the tightness in his throat. Tears burned in his own eyes. "I'm so sorry, Karen."
"Are they . . . looking for him? Outside?"
"No. I don't know what they're doing. He didn't get away."
Karen stiffened. "Where is he?"
"He's dead."
She pressed herself against Scott.
"He attacked Julie, too."
"Oh, no. Oh, no."
"She's okay. She came in when the rain started, and found him with you. She screamed. I came running, and so did Nick. Nick got him with a hatchet."
"Dear God," she murmured.
"Yeah. I feel bad about that. Nick's just a kid. I feel bad that he killed the guy. It should've been me. I should've done it. Nick beat me to it, that's all."
"Will he be in trouble?"
"Some, I guess. There'll be an inquest, I suppose. Nobody's gonna be arrested, though, not with something like this."
"I guess it's self-defense."
"Something like that. I just hate it that Nick's gonna have to live with killing a man."
For a long time, they lay motionless, holding each other tightly and saying nothing. Scott listened to the patter of raindrops on the tent, to the quiet sounds of her breathing. He felt her warm breath on his skin. Sometimes, when she blinked, her eyelashes tickled his neck. He wished she would sleep and forget, at least for a time, what had happened to her. But her heart was pounding fast. He could feel it against his chest.
Then she whispered, "He didn't come in me. I mean, that would've been worse."
"Yeah."
"I feel so filthy. It's like I can still feel where he . . ." Her voice died. Later, she said, "Will you still want me?"
"Of course. I love you."
"But . . . will it make a difference?"
"I guess it already has. Knowing I could've lost you tonight. He had a knife. I thought I might find you ... I don't know what I would've done."
"Will you make love to me?"
He fondled her hair. He didn't answer.
"Please. Please, I need you. I can still feel him. I want it to be you I feel."
"I might hurt you."
"I don't care. You want me, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
Pushing a hand inside her sweatpants, he stroked the warm smooth skin of her rump. He slid his hand up to the curve of her hip, down to her sleek thigh. She stiffened when he touched her pubic hair. "Don't stop," she said. He eased his hand lower, gently cupping her mound, fingers curling in, caressing. She raised a leg slightly, opening herself to him.
She pulled the waistband of Scott's shorts away from his body and down, freeing his erect penis. He moaned as her fingers gripped him.
Then they were both naked, Scott braced above her on elbows and knees, touching her only with his lips while her hands roamed down his back, stroked his buttocks.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"I don't want to hurt you."
A hand went away from his rump. Fingers took his penis and guided him lower until he pushed into soft folds. He slid slowly into Karen, deep into her hugging sheath. She sighed. She wrapped her arms around his back, and pulled him tightly against her.
After searching the area around the campsite, they followed Flash to the fireplace. He sat on a stump, rested the bowie knife across his lap, and put his flashlight into a pocket of his slicker. "You kids might as well turn in," he said. "I'll stand watch."
"Do you think he'll be back?" Nick asked.
"Who the hell knows? I thought he was dead. Maybe he wasn't, but I know for damn sure he was too far gone to get up and run off. Might've dragged himself a few yards, maybe even as far as the lake. Or maybe he was dead, and somebody carted him off when we weren't looking."
Benny mumbled something.
"What?"
"I said, maybe he's a zombie."
"Give us a break," Julie told him.
"Like the guy in your story who came out of the lake to get his arm."
"That was just a story," Flash said. "It didn't happen."
"What about the woman?" Julie asked.
"What woman?"
"Yeah!" Nick said. "That's right." He looked at Flash. "Remember I told you this morning about a crazy woman who yelled at those girls? They ran into her right here, yesterday."
"The girls said she had a knife like that." Julie pointed at the weapon on Flash's lap.
Nick frowned. "They didn't say anything about a guy."
"He could've been hiding when they were here."
"I've got it," Benny blurted. "The guy and the woman are the same person! Like that guy in Psycho. He dresses up-"
"Then who took the body?" Julie asked.
"The woman took it," Nick said. He sounded very sure of himself. "She was a friend of his, maybe his wife. She saw what happened to him. Then she waited for her chance, and snuck over and got him."
"She would have to be an awfully strong woman," Flash said, "to walk off with that guy's body."
"She didn't. She dragged it over to the lake, and towed it away in the water."
"I guess that's possible," Flash admitted.
Julie's face suddenly contorted.
"What's wrong?" Nick asked.
"I just thought of something." Her wide eyes looked from Nick to Flash. "Those girls — they just saw a woman. And we just saw a man."
"So?" Flash said.
"What I mean," Julie continued, "is how do we know there aren't more people here? Maybe another man. Maybe a whole bunch."
Flash stared at her. "Damn, I wish you hadn't said that."
"It's possible," Nick said.
Benny started looking around, searching the darkness through his dripping glasses.
"That's all the more reason we'd better keep watch. Even if it's just a woman, we don't know but that she'll try to get back at us. The rest of you go on and hit the sack."
"I'll stay up with you," Nick said.
Flash considered insisting that the boy turn in, but he liked the idea of having company.
"I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, and if something does happen" — Nick shrugged — "it'd be better if there's two of us."
"I guess you're right. Okay."
The hatchet swinging at his side, Nick walked Julie and Benny to their tent. Benny crawled inside. Julie faced Nick, put her arms around him, and kissed him. The kiss was not brief. Flash felt he shouldn't be staring, so he went over to the poncho he'd used to cover the body. Cools of water had formed on its rumpled plastic. He picked it up and flapped it, shaking off as much water as he could. When he turned aro
und, Julie was gone, and Nick was walking toward him. "This'll help keep us dry. We'll sit back to back so we've got a three-hundred-sixty-degree view."
They moved two stumps together, sat down, and draped the poncho over their heads. The rain made loud, hollow sounds as it struck the plastic. Flash stared through the downpour, moving his gaze slowly over the black lake, the dim pale rocks along the shoreline, the place where the body had fallen, the rocks and trees beyond the border of the clearing, Karen's tent, the pines close behind it, the gap between it and the next tent. Awfully dark behind the tents. A lot of trees. A small rocky rise farther back. Plenty of cover for someone sneaking in. Someone with a knife. . . .
"I'll check around," Flash said. He left the sheltering poncho. With the knife in one hand and his flashlight in the other, he walked to the far side of Karen's tent. He stepped behind it, being careful not to trip over the guy line. He shined his light on the blue fabric long enough to see that it hadn't been rent. Then he swept the beam across the pines, the bushes, the head-high clump of broken granite. The light threw squirming shadows that sent a chill up his back, but he saw no one. He moved on. Behind the next tent, a sudden voice made him jump.
"Who's there?" Julie asked.
"It's me."
"Something wrong?"
"No. Just checking around."
The tent after that was his. He knew it was deserted but he flashed his light across its rear, just in case. It looked all right. He stepped to the last tent. "Just me," he said quietly, in case Alice or the girls should be worried. There was no response. They must be asleep, he thought, but he felt a stab of fear. He put his light on the tent. The red fabric, shiny with running water, was intact.
He made a last check of the trees and rocks behind the tent, then hurried around to the front. The flaps were zipped shut. He opened them. Ducking low, he swept his light over the three crowded, motionless shapes. They looked okay. He shut the zipper, and walked toward Nick.
"Is everything all right?"
"So far. We'd better check once in a while, though. We're awfully vulnerable back there." He sat on the stump with his back to Nick, and pulled the poncho forward to shield him.
For a long time, Flash stared into the darkness. His eyelids grew heavy. His mind drifted. He imagined he was driving through the rain, fighting hard to stay awake. Alice cried out, "Don't hit him!" and there was a one-armed man staggering up the road, pale in the headlights, a hatchet embedded in his chest. Flash shot his foot at the brake pedal. The heel of his boot skidded on the wet ground and he snapped awake as he started to fall. He caught himself. He wondered how long he'd been out.
Twisting around, he saw that the stump behind him was deserted. He spotted Nick in back of the tents, the flashlight beam sweeping over the rocks and trees.
"Everything shipshape?" Flash asked when the boy returned.
"No problem." Nick sat down and covered his head. "Maybe she won't try anything."
"Sure hope not. We've gotta stay on our toes, though." The warning was more to himself than to his son. He was ashamed of falling asleep. He wouldn't let it happen again.
When he felt himself becoming groggy, he went into his lent for cigars. He returned to the seat, unwrapped a cigar, and clamped it between his teeth. He pulled the poncho lot ward enough to shield the cigar from the rain. To save his night vision, he shut his eyes when he struck the mutch. Then there was only the soft red glow of his cigar. I lash smoked slowly. When only a hot, bitter stub remained, he tossed it down and crushed it under his boot. "Still with us?" he asked Nick.
"I'm awake."
"I'll make the rounds."
He stood up, and stretched his stiff back. His light probed the darkness ahead of him. A shape lurched from behind one of the pines, and his heart seemed to jump. Nothing but a shadow. He satisfied himself that no one lurked among the trees or crouched in the tumble of rocks, then turned his beam to the back of the tent.
For an instant, he thought the two-foot vertical slash was another trick of light — nothing more than a shadow. Crouching, he set the knife by his foot and touched the slit. It parted, and his fingers slid in.
He muttered, "Jesus."
Shoving the flashlight through the gap, he tugged the fabric wide. It split more. He dropped to his knees and peered inside.
Scott squinted up at him. He looked alarmed. His forehead was smeared with blood.
"It's me," Flash said.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Karen, beside Scott in the sleeping bag, raised her head. She squeezed her eyes shut when the light hit her. The left side of her face was swollen and discolored. So was her mouth and chin. A speck of fresh blood glistened above one eyebrow.
"Flash?" Scott said.
"Someone was here. I've gotta . . ."he shoved himself away from the tent, staggered backward, and caught his balance. "Nick!" he yelled. "Check Julie!" He rushed past Julie's tent, glimpsing its gashed fabric. His own was the same. He fell to his knees at the rear of the last tent, rammed his flashlight through the split, and yanked a wide opening. Alice lurched upright.
"It's me."
Her forehead was bloody.
"What's going — "
"See if the girls are okay."
Rose was already lifting her head. She blinked into the light. There was blood on her right cheekbone.
Alice shook Heather awake. The girl was buried in her sleeping bag. As she scooted forward, Flash saw a small patch of blood at the top of her head.
Alice touched her daughter's bloody hair, then looked at her finger. "What's going on?" she asked in a low, frightened voice.
"I don't know," Flash said. "Somebody — "
"They're okay!" Nick called. "They're both cut, though."
"Get dressed," he said into the tent. "We're getting out of here."
"Tonight?" Alice asked.
"Right now. As soon as we can break camp."
Chapter Twenty-four__________
Benny, sitting on top of his sleeping bag, shoved his foot into a boot as Julie slipped a poncho over her head. She started crawling toward the tent flap held open by Nick. Benny blurted, "Don't leave me here!"
"All right. But hurry." She stopped. "Do you know what's going on?" she asked Nick.
"I don't know."
Benny got his other boot on. "Ready," he said. Grabbing his poncho, he followed Julie outside. He stood up and donned the poncho, thrusting his head through the hooded hole.
Mr. Gordon came around from behind the last tent.
"Is everybody okay?" Nick called.
"Just cut. Nothing serious. Christ!"
"They're all cut?" Nick asked.
"All of 'em."
"I don't get it."
"Neither do I."
The front of Karen's tent bulged and Dad crawled out, wrapped in a sleeping bag. Karen came out next. She wore gray sweatpants and a quilted parka that reached only to her waist. Her floppy hat covered her head. Her feet were bare.
Looking at her, Benny got a hollow ache in his chest. "Are you hurt much?" he asked.
"Not bad," she said. She slipped a hand from her pocket and held it out to him. He clasped it gently.
"I think we should haul ass outa here," Mr. Gordon said. "What do you think?"
"Is everyone okay?" Dad asked.
"So far. But who knows what we're up against? We're too damn vulnerable here. I say we move out. Once we're on the trail, we can see what's coming. The trip's shot anyway, right?"
"I'd say so," Karen muttered.
"Leave the body here?" Dad asked.
"It's gone," Julie said.
Benny felt Karen's fingers tighten around his hand.
"Either the guy wasn't dead," Mr. Gordon explained, "or someone snuck in and made off with him."
"It had to be that woman," Nick said.
"What woman?" Dad asked.
Nick repeated the story about the three girls who'd been swimming here yesterday until a weird woman yelled at them and f
rightened them away. "She must be the one who slashed the tents, too," he added.
"Why would anyone do that?" Karen asked. "It'd make sense if she wanted to cut our throats, but . . ."
"Just one woman," Mr. Gordon said, "couldn't have killed everyone. Not with two or three to a tent, and me and Nick on watch. She might've got a couple of us, but we'd have nailed her."
"Why just scratch us, though? What does that accomplish?"
"You don't suppose . . ." Julie's lips drew back, and she shook her head.
"What?" Nick asked.
"It's crazy."
"What's crazy?" Dad asked.
"Well . . . maybe her blade was poisoned."
Benny's stomach knotted. "Curare," he muttered.
"Nobody's got curare out here," his father said. "And if they did, we wouldn't be standing around talking about it."
"Maybe something," Karen said. "Some kind of poison or germs." With her free hand, she touched the cut on
Benny's face. "I don't feel any swelling. There'd be swelling with snake venom. Besides, it'd take quite an amount to do much damage."
"Rabies?" Nick suggested.
Julie groaned.
"I don't want to get creepy," he went on, "but all it'd take is some saliva or blood from a rabid animal — ''
"I'd say it's pretty unlikely," Dad interrupted. "This had to be a spur-of-the-moment thing. Who's gonna have a rabid animal on hand?"
"A crazy old woman," Julie said.
"Pretty remote chance."
"It's possible, though," Mr. Gordon said. "You'll admit it's possible?"
"Anything's possible." Dad sounded annoyed.
"It does seem a little farfetched," Karen said, "but something like that, at least, would explain why she cut us. Otherwise, what's the point?"
"I don't know," Dad admitted. "I just hate to think that ... I guess we'd better play it safe."
"We'll hike straight out," Mr. Gordon said. "I bet we can reach the roadhead in a day, if we really push it."
"It's mostly downhill," Julie added.
"Right," Dad said. "We'll lighten our packs. We can leave most of the food behind."