Richard Laymon - Blood Games

Jim looked as if he might lose his cut-offs. Heavy with water, supported by the single rope, they sagged at such an angle that Abilene could see matted pubic hair. The crease at the side of his groin showed, too. He paused a moment, huffing, then resumed his trudge up the slope.

Vivian walked behind the pair, carrying the shotgun and Finley’s camera. Her clinging white polo shirt was nearly transparent. The two belts that had been used to secure Cora’s splints hung across her chest like bandoliers. Abilene’s blouse was tucked under the waistband of her shorts.

‘You got everything?’ Abilene called.

‘No thanks to you two,’ Cora said.

‘You could’ve waited for us.’

‘We did. We figured you weren’t coming back.’

‘Just on our way,’ Finley said, coming over to Abilene’s side and flinging an arm across her shoulders. With her other hand, she waved the bottle at them.

Cora, her face bobbing above Jim’s head, frowned at them. ‘Are you two drunk?’

‘Had a few wee sips,’ Abilene said.

‘We’re perfectly fine ’n dandy,’ Finley added.

‘Terrific,’ Cora muttered.

Abilene stepped out of Jim’s way and took the water bottle from Cora’s hand.

Finley met Vivian and took the camera.

Where the pavement leveled out in front of the car, Jim eased Cora down. She clung to him and stood on her left leg. Abilene, hurrying forward to help, saw a patchwork of Bandaids on her neck and back and shoulder. The worst of the scratches and bites were covered.

She set down the water bottle and clutched Cora beneath the armpits. With Jim’s help, she lowered her friend to the concrete.

He pulled up his drooping cut-offs, then bent over and held his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

‘I’ll have some of that,’ Cora said, reaching up toward Finley.

‘Don’ overdo it,’ Finley warned, and gave her the bottle. ‘Moderation in all things. Thas the secret to a long ’n happy life.’

Cora only had a few sips before setting the bottle aside. Vivian brought the shotgun to her, and she kept watch on Jim while the others unloaded food and supplies from the Wagoneer.

Vivian lit the stove. Abilene opened cans of chili and dumped them into a pot. Finley got out rolls and Pepsis.

While they waited for the chili, they helped Cora to the car so she could sit on the hood with her legs dangling.

Soon, the chili was bubbling. Abilene ladled it into cups and passed it around.

Finley perched on the hood beside Cora. Abilene and Vivian sat on the pavement near Jim. They ate in silence. The chili was hot. The Pepsis were warm. The rolls were hard. Everything tasted very good to Abilene, but she ate slowly. She didn’t want the meal to end. She dreaded for it to end. Because, when it was finished, there would be nothing left to do but get ready for Hank. She had a second cup of chili, not because she was still hungry, but only to prolong what seemed to be a final piece of normalcy.

When everyone was done, she volunteered to do the dishes.

‘Why bother?’ Cora said. ‘Let’s just throw them in a box. We won’t be eating again.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Finley said.

‘You know what I mean. As soon as we’ve taken care of

Hank, you’re gonna hike out of here and get help. You and whoever else wants to go.’

‘Wouldn’t hurt to clean the dishes, anyway,’ Abilene said. ‘Besides, it’ll give me something to do.’

‘Walk off your drunk,’ Finley said.

‘In that case,’ Cora told her, ‘you oughta go along with her.’

‘I’m feeling pretty damn sober,’ Abilene said. ‘Unfortunately.’

‘You and me both.’ Finley slid down from the hood. ‘Let’s do it. Beats waiting around.’

Abilene and Finley gathered the dirty pot and cups and spoons. Taking along a roll of paper towels, they headed down the driveway. At the rear of the lodge, they came to the pool’s run-off channel. They followed it into the woods where it flowed into a brook. And where the shadows were deep enough to remind Abilene that night was coming soon.

She and Finley crouched on rocks and began to rinse the utensils. The water, probably as cold upstream as the water in the lake, was warmed with the run-off from the hot pools. It felt good on Abilene’s hands. And crouching like this felt good. Hunching against her legs, reaching way down between them. Comforting.

Almost a fetal position, she realized.

It would feel very good to curl up in a dark place and hug her knees. And stay that way until morning.

‘Are you scared?’ she asked.

‘I don’t like the waiting.’

‘I just wish the whole thing would go away.’

‘It’ll be fine once we’ve taken care of Hank.’

‘You’re the one who said we might all be dead.’

‘I was… just in a mood. The booze and everything. We’ll be fine. We’ve got the shotgun. We’ll blow the fucker’s head off. He won’t have a chance.’

‘I hope you’re right. But something can always go wrong.’

‘You worry too much, Hickok.’

‘We could use Hickok tonight. Or at least a couple of his six-guns.’

‘Hell. Batty’s over ’n under’ll do us just fine.’

They wiped away the remaining chili and grease with wads of paper towels, then piled the cups and spoons into the cook pot. Abilene clamped the paper roll against her side. She picked up the used towels so they wouldn’t be left behind to litter the shore.

Then, Finley in the lead, they walked out of the woods into the evening’s golden glow of sunlight.

At the top of the driveway, they found that Cora had abandoned her perch on the car. She was stretched out on the pavement, hands folded on her belly. Vivian sat crosslegged, the shotgun resting across her thighs. She was facing Jim, who sat with his arms folded around his knees.

Someone, probably Vivian, had already put away the stove and supplies. On the hood of the car was a box containing the empty cans. Abilene tossed the wet, dirty balls of paper into the box. Then she braced a door of the Wagoneer open while Finley climbed inside with the roll of towels and the pot full of cups and spoons.

‘Need anything while I’m in here?’

Ducking, Abilene looked in. The back seat and rear storage area were heaped with clothing, swimsuits, shoes, purses, sleeping bags, food and gear. ‘See if you can find the flashlights,’ she said.

‘They’re in here someplace.’

While she watched Finley dig through the mess, she considered getting in and hunting for her sneakers and fresh clothes. Sneakers would be better than the moccasins she was wearing.

Especially if I have to run .

It would feel good to get into dry clothes. But the way she was sweating, anything she put on would very quickly be just as moist as what she was already wearing. Besides, this skirt and blouse were already ruined. No point wrecking anything else.

The others hadn’t changed, either, though the back of Cora’s tank top was snagged and tom and half Finley’s shirt buttons were missing. If anybody needed fresh clothes, they did.

Finley handed out two flashlights.

‘See if you can find my sneakers,’ Abilene said.

‘They’re right here. I just saw them.’ She turned away to look for them.

‘Are you gonna wear what you’ve got on?’

‘You think we should dress for the ball? Who are we trying to impress?’

‘Guess not.’

‘These’re my fightin’ duds,’ Finley said, and crawled out backward with the shoes.

Abilene put them on, tossed her moccasins into the car, then trudged to the top of the driveway and joined the others. She lay down on the pavement. She folded her hands beneath her head and crossed her ankles and shut her eyes.