Richard Matheson: Ride the Nightmare

“Get up,” he said.

“You’re wasting time,” said Adam, tensely.

“Then I’ll waste it!” snapped Steve. He rammed his shoe tip against Chris’s side. “Get up!” he said. Helen winced and closed her eyes a moment.

“Get up, damn you!” With a rasping whine, he bent over and picked up the water bottle. He tilted it over and the water poured down heavily, splattering off Chris’s face. Chris twitched and grunted, his arms and legs retracting spasmodically.

“Look, we’ll stop at a doctor’s, then,” Adam said.

“Sure,” sneered Steve. “We’ll just walk into his waiting room and sit down with the other patients.”

Adam’s face tightened angrily. He looked around as if seeking some escape. When he saw that there wasn’t any, his expression grew angrier yet, color pulsed into his cheeks.

Now Chris was breathing more rapidly. His eyes still closed, he reached up one hand and pressed it to the bruise on his head.

“Get up!” Steve told him.

Chris opened his eyes. They closed a moment, then fluttered open once more. He stared up dazedly at Steve. Then he pushed up on one elbow and looked around. “Honey… “ he mumbled.

“Chris.” Helen spoke his name automatically as their eyes met. He looked, with alarm, at her and Connie.

“Get up, get up.” Steve nudged him fiercely with his shoe. Chris gasped and his gaze jumped around. He sat up dizzily, then pulled his legs in slowly and stood. He wavered there, blinking his eyes, trying to focus them properly He started to move toward Helen but Steve pushed the gun against his side and stopped him.

“By God, you better move right or I’ll blow you guts out,” he said, thickly.

Chris looked at him without expression, still not fully conscious.

“You’re gonna get me a doctor,” Steve told him.

“Doctor?”

Steve glanced at Adam. Where are the car keys?” he asked.

“At the bottom of the canyon with the car.”

“Their car,” growled Steve.

Adam stared at him coldly for several seconds. Then he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the ring of keys. He tossed it so they fell on the floor at Steve’s feet. “You’re going to regret this,” he said.

Steve ignored him and stepped back from the keys. “Pick ‘em up,” he told Chris.

Chris bent over slowly and picked them up, almost falling as he did.

“Now listen to me,” Steve told him, wheezingly, “I killed two men already, see? And I’d kill your wife and kid in a minute too. You understand me?”

Chris glanced over at Helen involuntarily. Connie was shivering against her.

“You bring the cops and you don’t have a wife and kid anymore.” said Steve, “You have a couple o’ corpses. Understand?”

“How—how do I—?” Chris began.

“How do ya know I won’t kill ‘em anyway?” Steve broke in. “You don’t know. But if ya don’t get me that doctor, you’re all dead right now. Understand?”

Steve suddenly closed his eyes and there was clicking sound in his throat. Adam tensed and seemed to lean forward. Then Steve’s eyes opened again, his body twitching as if he were starting out of a doze.

“Go on,” he told Chris.

Helen braced herself. “Let him take my girl.” she said. Steve looked at her as if he were drugged.

“Sure, why not?” said Adam, “Let ‘em all go. We’ll just sit here and wait for the cops to—”

“He goes alone,” said Steve, stumbling back toward the chair.

“Isn’t it enough I stay?” Helen asked, “Please. I’ll be—”

“He goes alone.” Steve waved Adam back and sank down on the chair with a groan. He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth and looked at Chris who was still standing in the same place, looking at his wife and child.

“Get out o’ here,” he said, “You have 45 minutes.”

Chris’s face tightened. Then, slowly, he moved over to Helen and Connie and put his arms around them.

“I’ll come back,” he murmured.

Helen shook her head. “They won’t let us go,” she said, “Not now.”

His fingers tightened convulsively on her arm. “Please don’t give up,” he begged, “For Connie’s sake—”

“You’d better go,” she interrupted.

Chris swallowed and looked at her helplessly. Then he leaned over and kissed Connie’s forehead.

“I’ll be back for you,” he whispered to her, “Don’t be afraid, baby. Daddy will come for you. Do what Mommy says and—”

“Get out!” raged Steve.

“Please let him take her!” Helen begged.

“I said get out!”

Chris turned hurriedly and headed for the door.

“Steve, for Christ’s sake, don’t do it!“ said Adam. “We can stop at a doctor’s place but if you let him go we’ll never get out of here!”

Steve looked at him unsteadily. “I’m not goin’ anywhere like this,” he said.

“He’s the one that shot you! Are you going to—?”

“Shut up!”

“I’ll get you a doctor then!”

Steve laughed breathlessly. “Sure, I’ll let you leave me here,” he said.

”Damn it!”’ Adam clenched his teeth and started forward, then stopped as Steve pointed the gun at his chest.

“You’re putting us right in the gas chamber,” he said.

“He’ll be back,” said Steve. He looked at Helen and Connie and his grip tightened slowly on the pistol.

“He’ll be back,” he said again.

Chris stopped walking and looked back at the cabin, a wave of premonition passing over him. Suddenly, there seemed no escape, no answer. Go back, he thought; stay with them. Nothing he did could change the situation now except that one more human being might die if he brought a doctor.

He shuddered violently. And it was his doing. Because of him. Connie was in there facing death, because of him Helen was in there. And he was free. The irony was perfect. He drove nails into his palms until the pain made him wince. His doing.

He looked around desperately, somewhere, deep in his mind, a wild idea gathering. He saw himself brandishing a heavy stick charging into the cabin, swinging wildly, getting Steve before he could fire his revolver, getting Adam. Before the thought had reached even the periphery of decision, he had discarded it bitterly. Anything like that would only destroy his wife and child that much sooner. There was only one thing he could do. What he’d been told.

Forty-five minutes.

Chris whirled and started running toward the car. How much time had elapsed? Five minutes, six? How could he possibly get to a doctor and bring him back in a little over half an hour? Again, he stopped and looked back, his head throbbing painfully. Could he call back, plead for more time? No, Steve would never give it to him. He should be in the car now, speeding off. Chris turned and sprinted around the curve, every jolting stride like a spiked club against his brain.

He jerked open the door of the Ford and slid in, pulled the door shut again. Hastily, he slid the key into its socket and twisted it. The motor coughed, failed. Chris turned the key again, jerking out the choke, then shoving it in as the engine turned over. He pumped at the gas pedal until the engine sound flared. Quickly, he knocked the shift into Drive and the car jolted forward.

He glanced up into the rear-view mirror. He couldn’t see the shack; it was beyond that clump of trees. He felt an uncontrollable tensing in his stomach and chest—as if invisible elastic cords were binding him to his wife and child and, as he drove, the cords were growing more and more taut until they threatened to tear his insides loose, leaving the better part of him behind. It seemed impossible to drive away like this knowing where they were—to leave them alone with men who would kill without hesitation. Yet there was nothing else to do—or, if there were, his tortured mind could not discover it. Rescue was beyond his means; he knew that. He was just a fallible man. Only blinding fury had enabled him to fight successfully with Adam before. There was no such life-giving strength in the fear that gripped him now.