Tread Softly

  "I tripped," said the girl Benny had stepped on. She had to be Heather.

  "I stepped on her," Benny admitted.

  "Four-eyes!" Rose snapped.

  "You klutz!" Julie said. "Goddamn it!"

  "I'm sorry."

  "Jesus, why don't you watch where you're going?"

  His throat felt tight. He fought to keep himself from crying as he handed the shoe to Heather. "I'm awfully sorry."

  "It's okay," she told him. "It doesn't hurt much."

  "Stupid jerk."

  "That's enough, Rose," Nick said. "It was just an accident. You both all right?"

  The girls nodded. Heather put on her shoe.

  "Okay, let's get going."

  "Don't walk so close," Julie warned Benny.

  "Maybe I'll just go back to camp."

  "Good idea. Why don't you?"

  Turning away, he looked down the dark trail. They were near the end of the lake. There was no sign of the campsite.

  Someone tugged the sleeve of his parka. "Come on," said a girl's voice. "It's all right." He looked around, and saw one of the twins behind him.

  "I'm sorry I stepped on you," he mumbled.

  She smiled up at him. "That's okay. Don't go back, okay?"

  "I guess not," he said. "Thank you."

  They started walking again. Benny grimaced as he noticed that Heather was limping. He was careful to stay well behind her until the narrow path curved upward and vanished in the rocks at the lake's end. There, he stepped up beside her. She looked at him and smiled. Side by side, they walked over the low slabs of granite near the shore.

  With no trees to cast heavy shadows, the night seemed very bright. The lake still looked almost black, but the bare rock was pale, as if painted with milk. Benny was amazed that he could see so well. He saw Julie's hair blowing in the wind, the pattern of Nick's plaid jacket, even the three stripes on the side of Rose's left sneaker. No colors, though. He couldn't make out any colors. Even Heather's jeans, which he knew were bright red, appeared to be a dark shade of gray. He wondered about that. You can see colors with a flashlight, but not by moonlight. It seemed strange.

  Nick stopped and took hold of Julie's arm. "Look," he said, pointing high.

  "What?" Julie asked.

  "Way up there. Near the top."

  Benny scanned the pale slope. He saw patches of darkness, a few scrawny trees scattered about like solitary, watching men.

  "Oh, yeah," Julie said.

  "I don't see anything," Heather muttered.

  "I do," Rose said. "Are they dogs?"

  "Coyotes," Nick explained.

  Then Benny spotted a pair of lean, gray shapes strutting stiff-legged across a ledge high on the slope. They had long snouts, and tails as bushy as a squirrel's.

  "I still don't ..." Heather began.

  Benny crouched to her level and pointed.

  "Oh, gosh," she said.

  "Don't worry," Benny told her. "They don't hurt anyone."

  "Is that so?" Julie asked. "A coyote killed a four-year-old girl, last year, in her own backyard."

  "Where?" Nick asked.

  "Back home, in L.A. One of those canyon areas. It just came down from the hills behind their yard and mauled her to death."

  "Let's get out of here," Heather whispered.

  "It's all right," Nick said. "They're way up there. Besides, they wouldn't try anything with five of us."

  "Unless they're hungry," Julie added.

  Nick laughed nervously, and started walking again. Soon, Benny saw the glow of the campfire on the other side of the lake. When they were directly across from it, he could see the tents and the adults sitting around the fire.

  "Hel-lo!" Julie called.

  Nobody answered. The wind must be too loud, Benny thought.

  They kept moving. Benny stayed close to Heather. She continued to limp slightly. Sometimes, when they had to climb over clusters of rock, Benny went first and gave her a hand. He liked helping her. She wasn't a snot like her sister. And she still seemed nervous about the coyotes. Every few steps, she looked back. "I don't like it here," she said after a while.

  "There's nothing to be afraid of," he told her.

  She glanced behind her. "What's that?"

  Benny spun around, his heart thudding. "That? Just a bush."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Sure I'm sure," he said, but he kept staring at the dark, hunched shape. It was barely visible in the shadows of an outcropping no more than two yards away. It was a bush, wasn't it? An icy feeling of dread crept up Benny's back. "Come on," he said. He took Heather's hand and pulled her away. She sidestepped behind him, still looking back. They hurried to catch up with the others.

  Benny was glad to see that they had almost reached the end of the lake. Just below an outcropping ahead, the forest would start again. They would merely have to pick up the trail there, follow it around a bend in the shoreline, and hike straight back to the camp.

  Nick, in the lead, disappeared over the top of the outcropping. Julie followed. Rose waited for Benny and Heather, then started down.

  Benny looked back. Nothing was approaching from the rear. He let Heather go ahead of him. As she climbed down, Nick, at the bottom, suddenly lurched backward and swung an arm against Julie. With a yelp, Rose whirled around and began to scurry up the rocks. "It's them!" she cried out. "Doreen and Audrey!"

  Heather twisted around. Benny saw terror on her moon-washed face. She lunged up and he grabbed her outstretched arm and yanked her to the top.

  Julie pressed a hand to her thumping heart. "Christ, you scared the crap out of us."

  "We were . . . uh . . . getting a trifle nervous ourselves," said the buxom girl in the sweatshirt.

  "We heard you coming," said the one in the cowboy hat. She had a husky, confident voice. Her face glowed as she sucked on a cigarette. "You from the campfire?"

  "Yeah," Nick said. Turning away, he called to the twins and Benny. "It's all right! Come on down."

  "We didn't know anyone was around," Julie said. "Are you camped here?"

  "Just off in the trees," said the one in the hat.

  "Don't you have a fire?" Nick asked.

  "I wanted one," said the other.

  "A fire just makes you colder. And it kills your night vision. And it lets everyone for ten miles know you're there. Not real healthy when you're three girls camping alone."

  "Three of you?" Nick asked.

  "Barb's back at camp."

  "You're not Doreen and Audrey, I take it," Julie said.

  "Who?"

  "I didn't think so." At the sound of footsteps behind her, Julie turned around. Benny and the twins were coming slowly forward. "They're not Doreen and Audrey," she said.

  The girl in the cowboy hat tapped ash off her cigarette. "This Doreen and Audrey, you looking for them or something?"

  Julie explained, telling briefly of Karen's story and how they'd used it as an excuse, tonight, to explore the lake's shoreline.

  "Something like a snipe hunt," said the girl in the hat.

  "More like a ghost hunt," said the other.

  "If we'd known, we could've screamed it up for you."

  "I almost did anyway. Still jumpy from that nut case."

  "What's that?" Nick asked.

  The girl folded her arms across her sweatshirt and looked at her friend. "We'd better warn 'em."

  "Which way are you guys heading?"

  "Over to the Triangle Lakes area," Nick said.

  "Then you'll be heading over Carver Pass, tomorrow. You know the area?"

  "Just from maps."

  "Well, there's a couple of lakes just the other side of the pass. The Mesquites. We stopped at one of them for lunch today, and ran into some crazy old bag."

  "A real weirdo." "We went in swimming, and she popped up out of nowhere and started raving about water snakes."

  "Scared the hell out of us."

  "Speak for yourself. Anyway, I didn't see any snakes. I think she was just some
kind of lunatic trying to get rid of us. I wouldn't worry much about her, if I were you guys. She might even be gone, by now."

  "Might not," her friend countered.

  "If you stop there, just don't be too surprised if you run into her, that's all."

  "Sounds like a good place to avoid," Julie said. The ranger, she remembered, had already advised them to pass up the Mesquites. Did he know about the crazy woman? That didn't seem likely.

  "I mean, we don't want to scare you," said the girl in the sweatshirt. "She didn't do anything. Just yelled at us. But she was definitely creepy. She had this look in her eyes. And she wasn't even dressed like a camper. I mean — do you believe it? — she was actually wearing a dress!"

  "Sort of a housedress," added the other girl, mashing her cigarette stub on the sole of her boot. "A faded old thing."

  "And hiking boots."

  "Did you see her knife?"

  "Knife?"

  "On her belt. Looked like a bowie knife. A huge sucker."

  "Lovely," Julie muttered. "A crazy woman with a bowie knife. I think we'll stay away from that lake for sure."

  Chapter Thirteen__________

  Karen hung upside down in the overturned car, clawing for the seat-belt buckle, unable to find it. "Buckle up for safety, buckle up," the old jingle taunted her. "I'll warm you up," said a voice from the window.

  She knew what she would see if she turned her head, and the thought of it terrified her. She didn't want to see. But she couldn't stop herself. Her head turned slowly toward the open window. Go away! she thought. I'll shut my eyes and he'll go away. She shut them, but her eyelids were transparent and she gazed at the charred face. Wisps of smoke curled out of its empty sockets, the hole where its nose should have been, its mouth.

  "Turnabout's fair play," it said, blowing smoke into her eyes. The mouth twitched in a blistered grin, cracking the black flesh of its cheeks.

  "No!" she cried. "It wasn't my fault!"

  He thrust a gasoline spout at her face. The foul liquid gushed out, stinging her eyes, filling her nostrils. She opened her mouth for a breath and gasoline filled it, choking her.

  He grabbed her shoulder. She tried to pry the fingers loose. They were dry and brittle, and she knew they would break off if she pulled hard enough.

  "Karen!"

  She woke up, gasping. Scott was kneeling beside her, a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

  "Thank God you woke me."

  "Must've been a hell of a nightmare." "It was." With trembling fingers, she found the zipper tab inside her sleeping bag and slid it down. She rolled onto her side to make room for Scott. He climbed in, pulled the zipper shut, and took her into his arms. Like last night, he wore only jockey shorts. His back was smooth and cold under her hands.

  "You're shaking," he said.

  "So are you."

  "I'm frozen."

  "I'm just scared out of my wits." She hugged him tightly.

  "Chased by boogeymen?"

  "Something like that." She let out a deep sigh. "I haven't had one like that in a long time."

  "Sleeping on the hard ground'll do that to you. I've been having some pretty wild dreams myself. Mostly about you."

  "Not nightmares, I hope."

  "No indeedy." He pulled her sweatshirt up so she was bare against his belly and chest. Gently, he stroked her back. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

  "You don't want to hear mine."

  "Might help to talk about it. Maybe we can figure out what it means."

  "I know what it means. And what brought it on, too — that business about the scars this afternoon."

  His hands stopped moving. They pressed Karen closer against him. "Your accident?" he whispered.

  "Yeah. Only it's not Frank trapped in the car, it's me. He was crouched by the window ... all burnt up. He sprayed me with gas ..."

  "Good Christ."

  "You woke me up before he got a chance to light it."

  "Must've been awful."

  "I've had it worse, sometimes. I usually wake up about the time he strikes the match, but a couple of times . . I'm on fire and he crawls in through the window and . . ." She suddenly gagged.

  Scott stroked the back of her head. "It's all right," he said. "Shh."

  "Sorry."

  "It's all right. I'll tell you about my dreams."

  "Yours are nice, right?"

  "Very nice. This morning — yesterday morning? — I dreamed it was raining and you came out of your tent in a clear plastic poncho, and nothing else."

  "You're making this up."

  "No. Honest. The rain was coming down real hard. Your hair was all matted down. Your face was slick and dripping. Water was streaming down the outside of your poncho, and I could see gooseflesh underneath. And your nipples were erect."

  "Like now?"

  A hand went to her breast. "Like now."

  She sighed as he fingered the nipple.

  "One thing was weird, though."

  "What?"

  "You know how dreams are."

  "Weird."

  "Right. Well, you didn't have any pubic hair. You'd shaved it off."

  "This dream of yours is getting me hot."

  "Me, too." His hand slid down, caressing her belly. It pushed inside her sweatpants. Slowly, it moved lower. "Just a dream," he said.

  "I could shave it."

  "It's nice this way."

  "Hey, if you dream it's shaven, that's an expression of a frustrated desire, right? I'll do it. One of these days. It'll be a" — his sliding finger took her breath away — "a surprise."

  "Want to hear the rest of the dream?"

  "There's more?"

  "Sure." His hand moved away, drawing a slick trail up her skin. He started pulling at the bow in her drawstring. "I said, 'You must be cold. What happened to your clothes?' And you told me Julie had stolen them." "Significant, that."

  "She told you she'd hidden them so you'd have to stay in the tent."

  "Away from you?"

  "Could be." The drawstring loose, he pulled at Karen's sweatpants. She helped by kicking them down her legs. The inside of the sleeping bag felt cool and slippery on her bare skin. Scott caressed the back of her leg. His hand slid up her buttock, held it gently. "Anyway, I said I didn't want you to freeze. We went into my tent so I could get you some warm clothes, but the only clothes you wanted were the ones I was wearing."

  "You have very peculiar dreams."

  "Don't I? So you made me lie down on top of my sleeping bag. You took off your poncho and knelt over me and started to undress me."

  "I stripped you naked?"

  "Very slowly."

  She hooked her fingers under the waistband of his shorts, eased the elastic away from his body, and pulled downward. She felt him spring free. With the back of her hand, she caressed the underside of his rigid penis. She tugged the shorts lower. Then she curled her fingers around him, feeling his hardness and his heat. "Did I do this?" she whispered.

  He answered with a moan.

  "And did I use my mouth?"

  "Yes."

  Her encircling fingers glided up the smooth length of him. "And did you use your mouth?"

  "Yes."

  "Where?"

  His hands showed her where, rubbing, fingers sliding in. She trembled as heat surged through her body. "Unzip the bag," she gasped.

  "We'll freeze."

  "Did you freeze in the dream?"

  "No, but — " "Wouldn't you like your dream to come true? Better yours than mine, right?"

  "You don't know everything we did."

  "Show me."

  He did.

  "This is when I woke up," he finally gasped.

  "Oh. Oh, Christ. Well, don't stop now!"

  "But . . . this is when I — "

  "Ad-lib."

  When they were through, Scott pulled the cover of the sleeping bag over them. They held each other, panting and sweaty. "Quite a dream," Karen whispered, and kissed him.
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  Later, he fell asleep. Karen lay cuddled against his long smooth warmth, feeling his breath on her face, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest. She was lazy and content. She wanted to let herself slip into sleep and wake up in the morning with him, but she couldn't.

  It had always been that way. During their months together, she constantly longed for him to stay, to spend the whole night. In the morning, she would make him breakfast. It would be so wonderful, so complete. Instead, he always had to leave her bed and hurry home. For the kids. She certainly didn't blame him, but she wished it were different. Someday, maybe.

  She kissed his eyelids, his mouth. He stirred against her. His hand moved up her side. It closed gently over her breast. "You'd better be going," she whispered.

  Scott groaned. "I'd rather not," he muttered.

  "I know."

  He held her for a long time. He kissed her. Then he eased away and left the sleeping bag. "Woe, it's cooold," he gasped, pulling on his underwear.

  "Do you want my sweatshirt?"

  "No, that's — "

  "Please. I don't want you freezing out there." She tugged it from under her shoulder, and held it out to him. "You can bring it back tomorrow night."

  "It's a deal."

  As he pulled it over his head, Karen sat up. The cold wrapped her bare skin to the waist.

  "Tight fit," he said. Then he leaned closer and hugged her. She felt his warmth through the softness of the sweatshirt. "Sleep well," he said. He kissed her again, then released her and crawled out through the tent flap.

  Karen snuggled down in her sleeping bag. She heard his quick footfalls in the leaves, and imagined him rushing toward his tent. She was glad he'd taken her sweatshirt. It was as if part of her had gone with him. She wondered if he would keep it on once he was in his own sleeping bag. Would he wear it and think of her?

  Curling up, she reached under her legs and found her sweatpants. She pulled them free. Instead of putting them on, she pressed the limp legs between her thighs. She smoothed the fabric over her belly and breasts. It was soft and warm. With the pants hugged against her, she fell asleep.

  Chapter Fourteen__________

  Scott woke up with a bad need to urinate. Lying motionless, he forced one eye open. The tent was murky with morning light. Benny was still asleep, breathing deeply, the red of his stocking cap all that showed of him at the top of his mummy bag.