James Chase - Lay Her Among the Lilies

He began to bend my arm. I resisted, but it was like pushing against a steam-roller. He was much, much too strong: unbelievably strong, and my arm slowly twisted behind me, creaking in every muscle. Cold sweat ran down my back, and my breath whistled out of me as I fought him.

I braced myself and regained a couple of inches. Bland was beginning to breathe heavily himself. Maybe if I could have added my weight to the struggle I might have held him. But sitting up in a bed with one arm pinned and my legs hampered I hadn’t a chance against his strength and weight.

He bent me forward inch by inch, and I fought him inch by inch. Slowly my arm went up behind me, was wedged into my shoulder-blades. I wasn’t aware of any pain. I could have killed him. Then I felt the sharp prick of the needle, and he stepped back, releasing my arm. There was sweat on his face, too, and his breath was laboured. He hadn’t had it all his own way.

“There you are, baby,” he gasped. “You asked for it and you got it. If I wasn’t such a soft chicken I’d have busted your arm.”

I tried to take a swing at him, but my arm didn’t respond. I don’t know what he had pushed into me, but it worked fast. The red, freckled, hateful face began to recede. The walls of the room fell apart. Beyond the face and the walls was a long, black tunnel.

I opened my eyes.

Pale sunshine came through the barred windows, carrying the shadows of the bars to the opposite white wall: six sharp-etched lines to remind me I was a prisoner.

Bland was moving silently about the room, a duster in his broad thick hand, a look of concentration on his freckled face. He dusted everywhere; nothing escaped his attention.

Hopper was sitting up in bed, reading his book. There was a peevish scowl on his face, and he paid no attention to Bland, even when he dusted his night table.

Bland came over to me and dusted my night table. Our eyes met, and the fixed grin on his face widened.

“Hello, baby,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“All right,” I said, and shifted higher in the bed. My right arm and shoulder ached, and I still had the imprint of his thick fingers on my wrist.

“That’s good. I’ll be along with shaving kit in a few minutes. Then you can have a bath.”

That would mean taking off the handcuff, I thought.

Bland seemed to guess what was going through my mind.

“And look, baby, don’t let’s have any trouble,” he said. “Don’t get the idea you can get away. You can’t. There are a couple more guys like me around. The door at the head of the stairs is locked, and there are bars up at the windows. You ask Hoppie. He’ll tell you. When Hoppie first came here there was trouble. He tried to get away, but it didn’t work.”

I stared at him woodenly, and didn’t say anything.

“You ask Hoppie what we do to a baby who makes trouble. He’ll tell you.” He looked at Hopper, grinning. “You’ll tell him, won’t you, Hoppie?”

Hopper looked up and scowled at him.

“Don’t talk to me, you low-born rat. I hate the sight of you.”

Bland chuckled.

“That’s all right, baby. I don’t mind. I’m used to it.”

Hopper called him an obscene name.

“Take it easy, baby,” Bland said, still smiling. “Don’t bear down on it.” He went to the door. “Shave, then a bath and then breakfast. I’ll see if I can get you an extra egg.”

Hopper told him what he could do with the egg.

Bland went away, chuckling.

“Don’t try it, Seabright,” Hopper said. “It’s not worth it. They’ll put you in a strait jacket, and keep you in a bath of cold water for days. He’s not lying about the door. You can’t get out without a key.”

I decided to wait and see.

After a while Bland came back with two electric razors. He plugged them in and gave Hooper one and me the other.

“Make it snappy, babies,” he said. “I gotta lot to do to-day.”

“You’re always grumbling,” Hopper said angrily. “I wish you’d go. I’m sick of seeing your ugly face.”

“It’s mutual, baby,” Bland said cheerfully. “Hurry up and make a job of it. Dr. Salzer likes to see his patients looking smart.”

So I was going to see Salzer. Not that I could hope for anything from him, but maybe I could scare him. If Sherrill had put me in here, maybe Salzer could be persuaded it was a dangerous game to kidnap anyone. I thought it was unlikely, but it might be worth trying.

When I had finished shaving. Bland came in with a white cotton dressing-gown.

“No funny business, baby,” he said in his whispering voice, and came around the bed to unlock the handcuff. “Just take it easy.”

I lay still while he took off the handcuff. Hopper was watching me with concentrated interest. Bland moved back a few feet and also watched me.

“Up you get, baby.”

I wriggled my legs from under the sheet, swung them to the floor and stood up. The moment I put my weight on my legs I knew it would be hopeless to start anything.

My legs were too shaky and too weak. I couldn’t have run away from a charging bull.

I took a staggering step forward and promptly sat on the floor. I didn’t have to sit on the floor, but it occurred to me it wouldn’t be a bad idea to let Bland think I was a lot weaker in the legs than I actually was.

I crawled up on hands and knees and regained my feet. Bland hadn’t moved. He was suspicious, and wasn’t going to be caught in any trap.

“Give me a hand, can’t you?” I snarled at him. “Or let me get back to bed.”

“Look, baby, I’m warning you,” he said softly. “If you start anything it’ll be the last thing you start for a very long time.”

“Cut out the yap. What’s the matter with you? Scared of me?”

That seemed the kind of language he understood, for he grabbed hold of my arm.

“Not of you, baby, or of anyone else.”

He helped me on with the dressing-gown, opened the door and together we stepped out into a long broad corridor. I took a couple more steps, and paused as if I still wasn’t feeling too sure of myself. The pause gave me time to look to right and left. One end of the corridor terminated in a massive-looking door, the other end was sealed off by a high window, covered with a close mess-grill.

“Okay, baby,” Bland said, grinning. “Now you have had a look, let’s get moving. I told you how it was. Well, now you’ve seen for yourself.”

Yes, I had seen for myself.

I went along the corridor with Bland, my mind busy. Somehow I had to get the key of that door and the key of the handcuff. Either that or stay here until they got tired of keeping me or until I rotted.

A sudden commotion brought us to a halt: a startled cry, a heavy thud as if someone or something heavy had fallen.

Bland caught hold of my arm.

A nearby door suddenly jerked open and a girl shot into the corridor. The first and obvious thing about her was her complete nakedness. She seemed to have jumped right out of a bath, for water glistened on her white skin and a fine film of soap made patterns on her slender arms. She was fair, and her hair grew in a curly halo around her head. She wasn’t pretty, nor was she plain. She was interesting; definitely and emphatically interesting, and I had a suspicion she wouldn’t be quite so interesting with her clothes on as she was without them. At a guess she was about twenty-five. She had a beautiful body, long legged, high breasted, and her skin was the colour of whipped cream.

I heard Bland suck in his breath sharply.

“Hot damn!” he said under his breath, jumped forward, his thick fingers reaching out for the girl, his eyes alight with brutish excitement. He grabbed hold of the girl’s arm. Her scream hit the ceiling and bounced along the walls. His hand slid off her soapy arm and she spun round and raced down the corridor. She ran with unexpected grace, and as swiftly as the wind.