Karen was wading backward, chest-deep in the lake, dragging both packs by their straps when she heard an outcry from shore. She swung around. She stared. The straps slid from fingers suddenly gone numb.
She didn’t know, couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Silhouettes of tangled bodies squirming on the ground near the scattered campfire.
A moonlit struggle near the shore.
She lunged forward and swam, clawing the water, kicking with all her strength. Her mind reeled as she raced for shore. What the hell was going on? Where had all those people come from? What if she couldn’t help? What if she got there only to find the others dead? Oh, God, no. Please!
Her plunging hand raked the rocky bottom. She shoved herself to her feet and dashed, splashing the water high. She glanced toward the fire. What’s happening? Then she fixed her gaze on the strange shapes just ahead of her. She felt dry ground under her feet.
It was the woman—the witch—sprawled on her back. Motionless legs stuck out from her side Benny? The hands were on his head, pushing his face to her torn belly, smothering him.
Karen grabbed Benny by the hips and yanked him back. As she dragged him clear, the woman rolled, snarling, clutched the hatchet, and crawled toward them. Karen leaped over Benny. She stomped the hatchet flat against the ground and slammed her other foot into the woman’s face. The head snapped backward. Karen grabbed the chin, the base of the skull. She twisted hard. The body flipped onto its back. As the head lifted, she drove her heel down, crashing the head against the rocky earth, smashing the nose. The body went limp.
Grabbing the hatchet, she whirled around. Benny raised his head. “Hang in there,” she gasped. “Gotta…the others…all hell…” She started toward the fire.
“Karen!” the boy yelled.
She looked back at him as she ran. He had turned himself onto his back, was sitting up.
“Come back!” he shouted. “Listen to me! I know!”
Karen raced back to him.
“Kill the witch!” he blurted. “Quick!”
“She can’t—”
“She’s not dead!”
If we’d listened to him before…
Karen ran, dropped to her knees. The woman below her was mumbling, staring up at the sky.
“Quick!” Benny yelled.
Nick had thrust himself up to his hands and knees, but the girl stayed on his back. The rock pounded his head. He threw himself over, rolled onto her. Her legs encircled his hips. An arm crossed his throat. A hand reached up over his face holding the jagged rock and he knew he couldn’t get his arms up in time to block the blow.
Karen swung the hatchet down. It broke through the woman’s forehead. The body jumped and twitched. She raised the hatchet, and chopped again.
The rock fell. It bounced off Nick’s forehead. The arm at his throat went limp. The legs dropped away from his sides.
He flung himself clear of the girl. She was motionless on the ground. He pushed himself to his feet. As he staggered over to her, Julie, pressed between the two naked men, tore the clutching hands of the headless one away from her throat. She was gasping and sobbing. Nick grabbed the man’s shoulder and hip, and rolled him off. As the body tumbled aside, a pair of hands slid away from Julie’s breasts.
She raised her arms to Nick.
He gripped her wrists, and pulled her up.
They stepped away from the bodies. Nick eased her against him. For a long time, they held each other gently and wept.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Scott heard a soft knocking on the door of his hospital room. “Come in,” he said. He lay his book aside, and watched the door swing open.
Karen stepped in. She tilted her head to one side, and raised her eyebrows. “Could you use a little company?”
“Get over here,” he said, trying to sound gruff.
She looked lovely, her hair soft and glowing around her face, brushing her bare shoulders as she approached. Her dress had spaghetti straps. Its silken blue fabric clung to her breasts, was drawn in at the waist by a gold chain belt, floated around her thighs.
At his bedside, she flicked a finger against one of his hoisted casts. “How you been?”
“Lonely. Where you been?”
“On an outing.” She set her purse on the floor, and bent over him. She stroked his cheek.
“Looks like you got some sun,” he said. He fingered a tiny curl of peeling skin on the side of her nose.
“I missed you,” she said.
“I kept waiting for you at visiting hours.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No you. No Julie, no Benny. Tanya came by a few times, but it wasn’t quite the same.”
She kissed him. Her lips felt chapped, but they felt very good and he wrapped his arms around her and caressed her. He seemed to sink into her, as if joining with a part of himself that had vanished and left him empty and returned.
Returned from an outing.
He released her.
She sat on the edge of the bed, and held herself steady with a hand on his chest as she drew a leg up beneath her. He stroked her bare thigh. “This outing,” he said.
“We didn’t want you to worry.”
“You went back to the mountains?”
She nodded. “Julie, Benny, Nick, and me.”
“Everyone’s all right?”
“We survived. Julie and Benny are waiting in the hall. Julie thought I should see you first.”
“The kid’s got style.”
“That she does. You’ve got a couple of great kids.”
“They have their moments. How’s Nick?”
“You know about Flash?”
“Yeah. Tanya told me.” He sighed. He squeezed Karen’s knee. “He was a good guy.”
“Nick’s very proud of him. Nick’s also madly in love with your daughter.”
“Of course,” Scott said.
She laced her fingers with his.
“O’Tooles are a lovable sort,” he added.
“Don’t I know it.”
He stared into her eyes. “God, I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me, too.”
“You shouldn’t have gone without me.”
“You would’ve done us a lot of good. Two broken legs. Old gimpy.”
“How’d it go out there?”
“It got hairy.”
“I assume the good guys won.”
“You assume correctly. The witch is vanquished. The curse went with her.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Nope. Benny wants to tell you about it. He’s very insistent on that point. If it weren’t for him, things might’ve gone…a bit sour.”
“He saved the day, huh?”
“I’d say so.” Karen slipped her hand free. She bent over and lifted her purse from the floor. As she opened it, Scott slid his hand up the smooth bare skin of her thigh. She took a felt-tipped pen from her purse. She didn’t try to stop his hand. She caught her breath and arched her back.
“Well now,” he said.
“Take the pen,” she whispered.
“And what should I do with it?”
“Autograph your son’s casts.”
“Casts?”
“In the plural.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.”
He took the pen from her hand. “Any more surprises?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then give me another kiss.”
“The kids are waiting.”
“We’ll make it brief.”
“But not too brief?”
He drew her down to him and held her and kissed her moist, parted lips, and wanted never to stop.
“Christ, gang!” Julie called from the doorway. “Break it up!”
RAVE REVIEWS FOR RICHARD LAYMON!
“I’ve always been a Laymon fan. He manages to raise serious gooseflesh.”
—Bentley Little
“Laymon is incapable of writing a di
sappointing book.”
—New York Review of Science Fiction
“Laymon always takes it to the max. No one writes like him and you’re going to have a good time with anything he writes.”
—Dean Koontz
“If you’ve missed Laymon, you’ve missed a treat!”
—Stephen King
“A brilliant writer.”
—Sunday Express
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—Jack Ketchum, Author of Old Flames
“One of horror’s rarest talents.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Laymon is, was, and always will be king of the hill.”
—Horror World
“Laymon is an American writer of the highest caliber.”
—Time Out
“Laymon is unique. A phenomenon. A genius of the grisly and the grotesque.”
—Joe Citro, The Blood Review
“Laymon doesn’t pull any punches. Everything he writes keeps you on the edge of your seat.”
—Painted Rock Reviews
“One of the best, and most reliable, writers working today.”
—Cemetery Dance
Other Leisure books by Richard Laymon:
BEWARE
THE WOODS ARE DARK
CUTS
TRIAGE (Anthology)
THE MIDNIGHT TOUR
THE BEAST HOUSE
THE CELLAR
INTO THE FIRE
AFTER MIDNIGHT
THE LAKE
COME OUT TONIGHT
RESURRECTION DREAMS
ENDLESS NIGHT
BODY RIDES
BLOOD GAMES
TO WAKE THE DEAD
NO SANCTUARY
DARKNESS, TELL US
NIGHT IN THE LONESOME OCTOBER
ISLAND
THE MUSEUM OF HORRORS (Anthology)
IN THE DARK
THE TRAVELING VAMPIRE SHOW
AMONG THE MISSING
ONE RAINY NIGHT
BITE
Copyright
A LEISURE BOOK®
March 2009
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
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New York, NY 10016
Copyright © 1987 by Richard Laymon
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Richard Laymon, Dark Mountain
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