Alison leaped.
She kicked her right leg far out, shoved off with her left foot hoping to knock the ladder over, and dropped. She fell for a long time. Fell toward Evan’s sprawled body. Her feet hit the floor. Her knees folded. She tumbled forward, outflung hands slapping Evan’s back. Her left hand slipped on the blood. As she smashed down on him, something slopped onto her back.
Something long and squirmy.
Rushing up the porch stairs, Jake heard a wild scream.
He threw open the door.
The restaurant seemed dark after the brilliant afternoon sunlight. He snapped his head from side to side. He saw no one, just a knife standing upright, blade embedded in the floor near his feet. But he heard someone sobbing. Then quick footfalls.
He whirled to the left, swinging up his revolver. Alison charged around the corner. Her face was twisted with panic. She clawed the air with one hand as if reaching for Jake. Her other arm was up, elbow high beside her head, hand behind her back. Her open shirt followed her like a fluttering cape as she ran.
Jake lunged sideways to get a clear shot past Alison, but nobody chased her around the corner.
“It’s on me!” she cried out. “In me!”
She twirled around in front of Jake. The thick, yellowish thing at the small of her back whipped from side to side like a grotesque, misplaced tail.
Jake dropped his gun. He clutched Alison’s shoulder to hold her still. With his left hand, he caught the flipping creature and tugged. His hand slipped off its slimy, yielding flesh. He caught it again. Wrapping his hand around it, he felt it moving deeper into Alison. He clenched it in his fist and yanked. Alison shrieked in agony and staggered backward. The creature didn’t come off.
“No!” Jake shouted.
He threw Alison to the floor. He jerked the shirt from her shoulders and flung it aside, then dropped onto her writhing body. Sitting on her buttocks, he tore the knife from the floor.
He grabbed the beast, wrapped his left hand around its flacid slick body and pulled it taut. The length of it stretched and thinned, but it kept moving into Alison. The lump under her skin was three inches long and growing longer.
He stabbed Alison in the back.
She yelped, went rigid, dug her fingernails into the floor.
The tip of the blade entered the tunneling front of the bulge. Jake was careful not to stab deep. Half an inch, no more. Blood and a thick yellow syrup flowed from the gash. He drew the blade down, splitting Alison’s skin until it parted at the hole, then tore the creature from her back.
“Got it!” he yelled in triumph.
Alison, crying, rolled onto her back and looked up through her tears as Jake leaped to his feet. In one hand was the bloody knife. In the other was the beast. He whirled around, swinging it overhead like a whip. Yellow stuff flew from its ripped body. He lashed it against the wall near the door. It left a dripping smear. He swung it high and whipped it down against the floor. He stomped it with one foot, then with both feet, jumping up and down on the thing until it was mashed flat.
Bending over it, he scraped it up with the edge of the knife. He carried it through the door.
“Jake?”
He didn’t answer.
Alison pushed herself up. She crawled to the doorway, wincing as pain swarmed from her ripped back. She grabbed the frame and rose to her knees. Holding on, she watched Jake run to the rear of his car, the flat thing swaying and dripping at his side.
She was hurting and still frightened. She felt blood streaming down her back and buttocks, running down the backs of her legs. She didn’t want to be left alone.
Take care of me, Jake. I need you.
Shit, she told herself, don’t be a baby. He saved your ass. Let him finish whatever he’s doing.
He took a red can of gasoline from the trunk of his car. He carried the mashed carcass a few yards, dropped it, and doused it with gas. He emptied the can onto it. A puddle spread over the pavement.
“Wait!” Alison called. She pulled herself up. She staggered onto the porch.
Jake waved her away, but she shook her head.
Setting down the gas can, he rushed toward her. He leaped onto the porch and put an arm around her back. “Alison,” he said.
She held onto him. With Jake bracing her up, she climbed down the stairs. He led her to his car. She leaned against the driver’s door, then slid down it and squatted as Jake hurried over to the wet patch on the parking lot. He struck a match and touched it to the gasoline.
As the pale flames rose, he came back to Alison. He squatted beside her. She put a hand on his knee. He looked at her. “What happened to Evan?”
“I killed him.”
Jake nodded, and turned his gaze toward the fire.
Greasy black smoke swirled up from the remains of the creature. Alison heard sizzling, popping sounds. When a breeze tore away the shroud of smoke, she glimpsed a bubbling black smear on the pavement.
Jake curled a hand behind Alison’s head, and softly stroked her hair.
They watched until the fire burned out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Jake bent over the bed and kissed her. He stroked the back of her head. “Nighty-night honey. Do you want a record on?”
“Not now,” Kimmy said, arching an eyebrow. “We are not ready. We’re busy.”
“Busy, huh? Well…” He leered at her ear and licked his lips. “Some mayo,” he muttered.
“No!” She hunched up a shoulder. She pressed Clew to her ear. “No earwich. I mean it.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“You’re going to have popcorn. And you’d better save me some.”
“We’ll see.”
She turned to Alison, who was sitting beside her on the bed. “I’ll get saved some, won’t I?”
“Sure,” Alison said.
Kimmy gave Jake a haughty look. “Alison will make sure of it.”
Grinning, Jake said, “Good night, honey,” and left the room.
Alison lifted the open book off her lap. “Now, where were we? Let’s see, Pooh and Piglet were tracking the Woozle through the snow.” She started to read, but Kimmy placed a small hand on the page, covering the paragraph. She looked up into Alison’s eyes.
“Are you going to be here all the time?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, all your stuff’s here.”
“Yeah, it is.” Alison put a hand on the girl’s back. “As long as my stuff’s here, I guess I’ll be here. Do you think that’s okay?”
“I think so,” she replied, frowning and nodding. “ ‘Cause you know, I like how you read. You read a lot better than Daddy. And you know what else? When Daddy used to take me to the moojies and I had to go pee…” She covered her mouth and tittered. Pressing a tiny shoulder against Alison, she tilted her head back and took her hand away and whispered, “He made me go in the wrong John and there were men peeing in the sinks! It was so gross!”
“In the sinks?”
“Yes!”
“Well, I guess I’d better not let him take you to the moojies anymore without me.”
“No more without you.”
Alison closed the book. “Now, I’d better let you get some sleep. We need to get up bright and early for the zoo.”
“Think we’ll see a Woozle?”
“One never knows about Woozles.” Alison got up. She slipped the book onto the shelf while Kimmy crawled between the sheets.
Alison tucked her in, then knelt beside the bed. Kimmy tucked Clew into the top of her nightgown. “Gonna say your prayers?” Alison asked.
Kimmy grinned. “No, you. Do that one you told me. The spooky one.”
“Maybe you should do a nice one. I don’t want to be a corrupting influence.”
“I want the spooky one,” Kimmy insisted.
“Well, all right.” Alison shut her eyes and folded her hands on the mattress. “From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in t
he night, oh, Lord, deliver us.”
“Neat,” Kimmy said.
“Sleep tight.” She started to get up.
“You forgot to kiss me.”
Alison bent over Kimmy. The girl’s arms wrapped around her neck, pulling her down with a tight hug. From the force of it, Alison expected a hard, mashing kiss. But Kimmy’s lips pushed against her mouth with such lingering tenderness that tears came into her eyes. “See you in the morning, sweetheart,” she said as she stood up.
“Don’t forget to save me some popcorn.”
“Never fear. Do you want the record on?”
“Side two.”
Alison flipped the record and turned on the stereo. She dimmed the lamp on Kimmy’s table, looked back at her with Clew tucked into the neck of her nightgown and one arm around Cookie Monster, waved, and left the room.
At the entrance to the living room, she saw Jake on the sofa. A huge bowl of popcorn rested on the cushion beside him. There were two glasses of cola on the table at his knees. Instead of joining him, she went into the kitchen. She took one of Kimmy’s cereal bowls from a drawer. It had Charlie Brown and Snoopy on it. She carried it into the living room, bent over the large bowl and started scooping popcorn in.
“Boy, she’s got you well trained,” Jake said.
“My word is my bond.” She carried Kimmy’s serving into the kitchen, left it on the counter, and returned.
She’d been hot in her robe. Jake watched as she took it off. She was wearing a red, jersey nightshirt she had bought that day at the university store. “What do you think?” she asked, turning in front of him.
“Nice. Though I have a certain attachment for your blue negligee.”
“It brings back some bad memories.”
“Not for me.”
“Then I’ll wear it once in a while.” She lifted the popcorn bowl and sat down beside Jake. The nightshirt was very short. She felt the sofa upholstery against her bare skin. Her stomach fluttered. For an instant, she was sliding into the seat of Evan’s car, the shirttails too short to cover her buttocks.
“What’s the matter?” Jake asked. He was so quick to notice the slightest changes in her moods.
“A little flashback.”
“I’m sorry.”
She mugged at him. “It’s not your fault.”
“I just hate to see you upset.”
“I know.” She set the popcorn bowl on her lap. It felt warm against her bare thighs. “It’s just that you look so woebegone when you ‘sorry’ me. Have some popcorn.”
He dug in a big hand and took out a fistful.
“What did you rent for tonight?”
“Halloween and The Hills Have Eyes.”
“Fantastic!”
“I bet you’ve already seen them.”
“Of course,” Alison said.
“They do have such things as comedies at the video store.”
“They’re not nearly as much fun.”
Jake grinned, shook his head, and tumbled some popcorn into his mouth. “Amazing,” he said, after chewing for a moment. “It really doesn’t bother you, watching this kind of thing? After what happened?”
“The movies are pretend.”
“I’d think they might give you flashbacks.”
“They do. Sometimes. But all kinds of things do. It’s only been three weeks.”
“Three great weeks,” Jake said.
“Yeah.”
She watched Jake munch some more popcorn. She took a handful, tossed some into her mouth, and flinched. “Ow!”
Jake looked at her, startled.
“It’s too damn hot to eat.”
Now he looked perplexed.
Alison lifted the bowl off her lap, leaned forward and set it on the table. “I think we’d better let it cool off for a while, don’t you? We don’t want to burn our tongues while we watch the movies.”
“Oh. Right.” Jake blushed a little.
Alison pulled the nightshirt over her head. Facing him, she began to open the buttons of his pajama shirt. He swallowed the remains of his popcorn. He stared into her eyes. His gaze roamed downward, lingering on her naked body.
Alison watched his hands move slowly toward her until his fingertips trembled against her breasts. The hand that had held the popcorn felt grainy with salt, and slick. “Woops,” he whispered. He took the hand away and rubbed it on his pajama pants, leaving an oily smear.
The oil and butter on Alison’s breast gleamed in the lamplight. “You’d better lick it clean,” she said.
He did.
As his tongue lapped and swirled, Alison slipped the shirt down his arms. She gasped and arched her back when he sucked.
Then his mouth went to her mouth and his arms went around her.
Alison fell sideways against the sofa back and stretched her legs under the table. Jake pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tugged the waistband of his pajamas. The snaps popped open and she pulled at the pajamas until he was bare against her, smooth and hard.
His tongue left her mouth. He kissed her lips, her chin, the side of her neck. His hands roamed, caressing her shoulder blades, gliding down, curling over her buttocks, moving up again.
They stayed away from the middle of her spine.
Gently clutching his hair, Alison eased his head away and looked into his eyes. “You never touch me…there.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Where it was.”
“I guess not,” he whispered. Alison could feel his penis shrinking against her thigh.
“Does it disgust you?”
“No. God, no. Nothing about you disgusts me.”
“It was in me.”
“Nothing’s in there, now. I watched the doctor clean the wound, and—”
“But you’re afraid to touch me there.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Scared you’ll catch something?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s healed. All but the scar.”
“You want me to touch it?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“It isn’t that,” he muttered, looking miserable.
“What is it?”
“I did it to you. I stabbed you, cut you open. I hurt you, and when I see the wound or touch it, it all comes back, how you cried out and jumped and dug your nails into the floor. It all comes back how much I hurt you.”
“You mean it’s guilt, just guilt?”
“You might say that.”
“Dipshit, you saved my life.” Alison pressed her cheek to his and held him tight. “I look at it in the mirror. It’s special, Jake. It’s you cutting into me and taking out the nightmare.”
The tips of Jake’s fingers trembled against the flesh of Alison’s wound. They gently followed the length of it. They tickled and she squirmed.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. Does this?”
Jake moaned.
“Let’s knock off all this small talk,” Alison said. “The popcorn’s getting cold and we’ve still got a double feature to watch.”
“What am I,” Jake asked, “the coming attraction?”
Alison laughed and swung a leg over his hip.
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 disappointing 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
“I’ve read every book of Laymon’s I could get my hands on.
I’m absolutely a longtime fan.
”
—Jack Ketchum, Author of Cover
More Praise for Richard Laymon!
“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:
DARK MOUNTAIN
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®
September 2009
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © 1988 by Richard Laymon
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