Richard Laymon - Blood Games

‘We made it to the water all right,’ she said as the others joined her.

‘We’re probably under that bridge,’ Cora said.

If so, the bridge was out of sight.

Finley stepped onto the log barrier and walked along it, arms out for balance. At its end, she leaped to another. A few more strides and she was gone.

‘Don’t go wandering off,’ Abilene called.

The fog seemed to deaden her voice.

‘Just exploring, Hickok.’

‘We oughta get back in the camper,’ Vivian said, ‘and explore a botde of tequila. It’s cold out here.’

‘And creepy,’ Helen added.

‘I thought you liked creepy,’ Cora said.

‘It’s nice and cozy inside.’

A dark smudge in the fog became Finley. ‘It is a parking area,’ she called from her log. She kept moving. ‘So far, it looks like nobody’s here but us.’ She vanished again, this time hidden by the camper, not fog.

‘Let’s stick with her,’ Abilene suggested.

‘Yeah.’ Raising her voice, Cora said, ‘God forbid we should lose Finley.'

‘Ha ha,’ came a disembodied reply.

Helen curled her upper lip.

‘What is it?’ Abilene asked.

She shook her head. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking. What if we did lose her? You know? What if she just went roaming off into the fog and we never found her again?’

‘No such luck,’ Cora said.

‘Her tapes might fall into the hands of strangers,’ Vivian pointed out.

Cora’s mouth fell open with mock alarm. ‘My God, I hadn’t thought of that. Fin!’ she shouted. ‘Hold up!’

They went after her. Cora in the lead, they stepped over the log and followed it past the front of the camper. No sign of Finley.

What if she is gone? Abilene thought. Ridiculous. But Helen had given voice to her own fears and made them seem less farfetched.

Anything, anyone, might be lurking in the fog.

‘Finley, say something!’ she called.

‘Guys?’

Her voice sounded eager, as if she’d made some kind of odd discovery. It had come from somewhere not far ahead, but slightly off to the right — in the direction of the ocean.

They quickened their pace.

Abilene spotted a blurry, indistinct figure through the shrouding fog. Two figures.

Her stomach seemed to drop like an express elevator.

Finley. Finley and someone else. Someone big.

‘Oh my Christ,’ Helen gasped.

Finley, clear now, looked over her shoulder at her approaching friends. ‘Gang, this is Rick.’

‘Hi.’ Rick raised a hand. He smiled. He appeared to be seventeen, maybe eighteen, years old. His crew cut was matted down, his face dripping. His face was tanned so dark that his teeth and the whites of his eyes almost seemed iridescent. He was well over six feet tall, powerfully built. He wore a black wetsuit with pale blue piping on its sleeves and legs. A surfboard lay in the sand near his bare feet.

Studying him, Abilene felt her fears slip away.

He’s just a big kid, she thought. A very big kid. And a hunk.

‘A friendly native,’ Finley explained. Reaching out, she patted his chest. ‘You must be freezing, Rick. Why don’t you come on along with us? You can warm up in our recreational vehicle.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t wanta barge in,’ he said, frowning down at the sand in front of his feet. ‘I’d better get going.’

‘Do you have a pressing engagement?’

‘Well, no, but…’

‘He says he wants to leave,’ Cora said, giving Finley a quick look.

‘Lighten up. This is an actual California surfer. He could give you pointers. Besides, where can he go in all this fog?’

‘Do you live nearby?’ Vivian asked.

‘Palm Springs.’

‘Jeez,’ Abilene said. ‘You’re a long way from home.’

‘We don’t have much of a coastline in Palm Springs.’

‘Are you by yourself?’ Vivian asked.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Ma’am?’ Finley chuckled.

‘It’s Vivian. Just Vivian.’

He glanced at her, gave her a nervous smile, then looked down again.

‘Is that your pick-up truck?’ Abilene asked. ‘We passed one coming in.’

‘That’s her, I suppose. Just on my way back when I ran into Finley.’

‘You’re not planning to drive off are you?’ Finley asked. ‘In this fog?’

‘I’d intended to stay overnight. But nobody was here then. I don’t know.’

‘You sleep in your truck?’ Vivian asked.

‘There, or on the ground if it’s nice out. But I guess I’ll move along.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Cora said. ‘For now, I think you should just come along with us. You can at least warm up for a while before you go back to your truck.’

Helen rolled her eyes upward. ‘Whatever happened to “playing it safe!”? Christ! You gave Wayne the bum’s rush, and now all of a sudden it’s open house.’

‘This is different,’ Cora said.

‘It’s not New York, for one thing,’ Vivian added.

Rick held up a hand. ‘I don’t want any trouble. I’ll just be on my way.’

‘No, you won’t,’ Finley told him. ‘Helen!’

‘I don’t have anything against you, Rick. It’s just the principle of the thing.’

‘I understand.’

Abilene put a hand on Helen’s shoulder. ‘I really think he’s all right.’

Helen knocked her hand away. ‘Wayne was all right. I liked him. I liked him, damn it!’ Suddenly, she was crying. She whirled around and strode away. Just before the fog enveloped her, she looked back and blurted, ‘It’s okay. He can come in.’

‘I think she liked Wayne,’ Finley quipped.

‘Not funny,’ Abilene said.

After a little more urging, they talked Rick into coming along with them. They found their way to the camper. He propped his surfboard against its side and followed them in.

‘Welcome aboard,’ Helen said. Though her eyes were red, she was smiling. ‘By the way, I’m Helen.’ She shook his hand. Cora and Abilene introduced themselves to Rick.

They turned on lights and the heater. Cora hopped onto a swivel chair behind the driver’s seat, and the others sat on cushioned benches that faced the center aisle.

‘It does feel good to get out of the cold,’ Rick said.

‘I’ll second that,’ Abilene said. ‘And I’m not even wet.’

Finley laughed. ‘You were bom all wet.’

‘Let’s get some booze in us,’ Vivian suggested.

She headed for the kitchen area to get it. Finley went after her and returned with a towel. ‘Get out of that frog suit and dry off,’ she said, handing the towel to Rick.

She sat across from him. He rubbed his head with the towel, then unzipped the jacket of his wet suit and peeled it off. His chest was muscular, nearly hairless, and deeply tanned. He had goosebumps. After drying himself, he draped the towel over his shoulders. ‘That’s a lot better. Thanks.’

‘You oughta get out of those pants, too,’ Finley said.

The suggestion gave Abilene a flutter in her stomach.

‘That’s okay,’ he said, blushing through his tan. ‘I’ll keep them on.’

‘Aren’t they uncomfortable?’

‘Not much.’

‘Oh, I get it. You’re not wearing any trunks.’

His blush deepened.

‘We don’t mind, do we, guys?’

‘Cut it out, Fin,’ Cora warned.

Vivian arrived carrying a box full of bottles and plastic glasses and packages of chips. She stepped by carefully, avoiding feet, and set it on a small round table between the swivel chairs. ‘Don’t listen to Fin,’ she told Rick. ‘The girl’s an inveterate wise-ass.’ She went off again and came back with a bag of ice. ‘If you don’t want any hard stuff, we’ve got some Pepsis.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Tequila’s good for you,’ Finley said. ‘It’ll put hair on your chest.’