Richard Matheson: Hunted Past Reason

“He must have come to, he knew how to get here faster, beat me to it.” The words ran together as he spoke.

“Bob, for God’s sake, what is going on ?”

“Listen to me, I can’t give you every detail but he’s been chasing me since yesterday morning, intending to kill me.”

“What?” Her voice sounded too loud to him and he quickly cut her off. “ Shh . Don’t talk, just listen. He is crazy, Marian. He raped me yesterday morning—”

“What?” She couldn’t seem to take it all in, looking at him as though she thought him mentally disturbed.

“He gave me a head start, then chased me. He even caught up to me last night while I was sleeping, could have killed me then but left me a note, I have it in my pocket, he’s crazy , Marian, I’m telling you.”

“My God,” she whispered.

“He killed a hunter earlier today, shot an arrow through his neck.”

“Bob, are you—?”

“Crazy too? No. This really happened, Marian. We have to get away from him. Where are the car keys?”

“In the ignition.” Her voice was trembling now. “What are we going to do ?”

“Play along with him; we have to. I don’t know what he has in mind, why he came here after everything he’s done, why he didn’t try to get away somewhere.”

“Oh, lovebirds !” Doug called. “Enough smooching! Come on up!”

“Does he have his golak?” Bob asked quickly.

“His what ?”

“Golak. That big knife, like a machete.”

“Yes,” she answered shakily.

“Too bad,” he murmured, wincing. “We better go on up, I don’t know what he’ll do if he thinks we’re plotting against him. He’s crazy, absolutely crazy. Let me do the talking. Try not to look as panicky as both of us are feeling.”

“Yes,” she murmured weakly.

Bob felt numb as they walked toward the cabin. Shouldn’t they run for the Bronco, hoping to reach it before Doug could catch them? He knew it wasn’t possible. Doug was too fast, too clever. And he had the golak in his belt. He realized that everything he’d gone through in the past two days had given him a mindless fear of Doug, a conviction that no matter what he did, Doug would always counter it.

As they reached the deck, to his horror, Doug embraced him tightly. “ Bobby boy!” he said in a delighted voice. “You’re safe, you’re really safe!”

Bob could see that Marian was trying to control the sickened dread she obviously felt. She even managed a smile, not a convincing one but nonetheless a smile. “You both look like hell,” she said. Good! Bob thought. Throw him off. Let him think he’s still in charge of everything.

Doug laughed as though her words had thoroughly amused him. “That’s no lie,” he said. “After everything we’ve been through. Remind me never to take your husband backpacking again.”

No fear of that, Bob thought.

“Man, I’m glad to see you safe and sound!” Doug said. He laughed again. “Well, not exactly sound. Marian is right, we do both look like hell. I know you do anyway, I can see it with my own eyes. And when I get a chance to look in a mirror, I know I’ll see how shitty I look too.” He babbled happily as though all problems had been solved. The actor, Bob thought. Giving his penultimate performance.

“Well, the two of you must be starving,” Marian said. Bob was amazed at the controlled tone of her voice. She’s marvelous, he thought.

“Yes, we are,” he said. “I know I am anyway.”

“Me too,” Doug said as though in high spirits now. “You want to make us something, Marian?”

“How about some eggs?” she asked. Again, Bob felt a rush of admiration for her. With her help, they were going to get out of this, he vowed.

“Sounds good,” Doug told her, smiling.

“Very good,” Bob added.

“I’ll get them right away,” she said.

For an instant, Bob felt his stomach drop as she turned and went into the cabin, leaving him alone with Doug.

He started to follow her, then froze as Doug’s fingers clamped on his arm.

“I hope you haven’t told her anything,” Doug said quietly.

“No,” Bob lied. “I haven’t.

“Don’t know whether to believe you, Bobby boy,” Doug said. “But if you’re lying, she goes too.”

Doug’s last words made him tense convulsively. “Don’t hurt her,” he said.

“Warning me?” Doug said, sounding amused. “ Me?”

“I know you want me dead. You have to kill me now because I know about the hunter; but leave her alone.”

“Listen, Bobby.” That same maddeningly cheerful tone. “If she doesn’t know anything about what happened, I’m not going to kill her, I’m going to marry her, don’t you remember?”

Bob drew in a shaking breath. “Oh, God, you’re such a bastard,” he said.

“That I am,” Doug answered lightly. “But a clever one, you must admit. You almost got me down there at the lodge. But I landed on some sofa cushions or something. Otherwise, you would have won. But now that’s out of the question, isn’t it?”

“You planning to kill me in front of her?” Bob asked. “You think she’ll—?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Doug interrupted. “I’ll figure out some way to make it look like an accident. You wouldn’t want me to kill you in front of her. Then I’d have to kill her too and you don’t want that, do you, Bobby boy? So watch yourself when we’re inside. Remember it’s her life at risk as well as yours.”

“I’ll remember,” Bob replied. That hopeless feeling again. Doug was invincible. There was no way to beat him. He’d even survived that fall. What chance was there that, weaponless, he and Marian could overcome him?

When they went inside, Marian was at the stove, breaking eggs into a cast-iron skillet.

“Hate to put you boys to work after what you’ve been through but would you mind setting the table while I fry the eggs?”

“You bet!” Doug told her, grinning.

Bob followed him to the cupboard and watched him open the doors and draw out three plates. They were cheerful-looking plates, rimmed by flowers.

He opened a drawer to find some silverware, tensing as he saw the carving knife inside.

Doug seemed to read his mind. He reached into the drawer and pulled out three forks, waggling his finger, a look of blithe warning on his face. “No, no, no,” he murmured. “Leave that in there.”

“What?” Marian asked at the stove.

“Bob was taking out spoons instead of forks,” Doug told her, smiling.

“Oh.” She held the skillet with a pot holder, tilting it to run the melted butter underneath the eggs. “Who’s for over, who’s for sunny side up?” she asked. Bob could scarcely believe how nonchalant she sounded.

Doug put the plates and forks on the table. “Napkins over there, Bobby,” he said, pointing.

It was impossible for Bob to register that this domestic scene was taking place when, all the time, Doug was planning to kill him somehow, somewhere, “accidentally.”

“We’d better wash our hands at least,” Doug said. “Come on, Bobby.”

His mind unable to function clearly, Bob walked after Doug into the bathroom.

In silence, Doug’s eyes unmoving as he stared at Bob’s reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror, they washed their hands; Bob wincing and hissing at the sting of the soap on his raw palms. “Hurt?” was all Doug said. Bob grunted, unable to answer.

They dried their hands and returned to the kitchen, sat at the table.

“I made you both some toast,” Marian told them, putting the platter on the table.

For a few crazed moments, Bob imagined that she’d known about this from the start, that she wanted him to die, wanted to marry Doug and—