Richard Laymon - Flesh

The man was far away and out of uniform, but the nosepull gave him away. Mike Felson.

Of course, Jake thought. I’m in Mike’s search sector.

Mike didn’t seem to spot the cruiser.

He walked toward the closed door of a garage and past the garage and lifted the lid of a trash barrel. He peered into the barrel. He put the lid down, stepped to the next trash can, and took off its lid.

Jake groaned. Hugging his belly, he pushed his forehead hard against the upper rim of the steering wheel. He couldn’t stop groaning. He raised his head a few inches and pounded it down on the wheel. Then he did it again.

Roland snapped his checkbook shut. At the start of the semester, his parents had given him $350.00 in addition to the cost of tuition, room and board. Whatever was left after buying textbooks could be used for incidentals such as entertainment, extra food, clothing (knives and handcuffs, he thought, grinning), and so on. He had $142.55 left in the account.

In the morning, he would withdraw it from the bank and use it for escape money.

It didn’t seem like a whole lot.

Roland got up from the chair, stepped over to Jason’s desk, and sat down. He found Jason’s checkbook in the top drawer. He flipped through the check stubs until he found the last total Jason had entered, then worked his way forward, subtracting the approximate amounts of the several checks Jason had written since then. It looked as if Jason had close to $400.00 left in the account.

A goodly sum.

Roland would have to practice Jason’s signature…

You dumb shit, you flushed his driver’s license down the toilet at the Oakwood. Remember? Not only that, you didn’t even take whatever cash he had in his wallet.

He wondered if Celia had any money in her purse.

He had left her purse in Jason’s car.

Go back and get it?

No, too risky.

Bending down, he pulled open the bottom drawer of Jason’s desk. He lifted the Penthouse and Hustler magazines, removed the envelope containing the snapshots of Dana (why not take those along as a souvenir?) and searched under a few more magazines until he found Jason’s stash. The money was folded in half and fastened into a packet with rubber bands.

Roland took it out. Though its thickness was encouraging, he discovered that most of the bills were ones. Still, the total came to $87.00.

He carried the money and envelope over to his desk, and stuffed the cash into his wallet.

On the corner of his desk stood a framed eight by ten photograph of himself. He’d had it blown up from the negative of a picture taken at Halloween. It was a great shot, showing him wrapped in a vampire cape that he’d rented for the occasion. His plastic fangs were bared. His mouth and chin were smeared with blood.

Roland patted the envelope of Polaroids and grinned as an idea came to him.

He slipped his photo out of its frame. He removed the Polaroids of Dana from the envelope. Then he took scissors and glue from his drawer.

He snipped Dana apart.

A fine, fine way, he thought, to while away the time.

He glued pieces of her to the vampire photo. Soon, his leering face was surrounded by floating body parts.

A work of art, he thought when he was done.

I ought to name it.

Call it “Private Dreams.”

He grinned, enjoying the pun.

As he picked up the scraps, someone knocked on his door.

Roland’s heart kicked.

Quickly, he slipped the photo into his desk drawer. “Who is it?” he asked.

“Alison Sanders. I’m Celia Jamerson’s roommate.”

“Just a second,” he called. His pulse beat fast. Celia’s roommate. One of the girls who’d been with her at the mall? What if this is the great-looking one who’d been wearing the jumpsuit?

Quickly, he grabbed his jeans and put them on. Crouching, he closed the suitcase on the floor and pushed it under his bed. He rushed to the closet, took out a sport shirt and slipped into it. With trembling fingers, he fastened a couple of the buttons before opening the door.

It was the jumpsuit girl and she looked even better than Roland remembered. She must’ve been out in the sun since then, for her face had a glow that made the white of her eyes and teeth striking. Even in the shadows of the corridor, her hair shone like gold. She wore a powder blue blouse with short sleeves. It was buttoned close to her throat. At her shoulders, the straps of a bra were faintly visible through the fabric. Pockets covered each breast. The blouse was neatly tucked into the waist of billowy white shorts with rolled cuffs midway down her thighs. She wore knee socks that matched her blue blouse, and bright white athletic shoes. In one hand, she held the strap of a leather purse. The purse swayed, brushing the side of her calf.

“Why don’t you take a picture,” she said. “It lasts longer.”

Cal Taber chose that moment to walk past her. He laughed at Alison’s remark, looked over his shoulder and said, “You bite, Rolaids.”

Roland flipped him a finger.

“Real cute,” Alison muttered.

“Sorry. Some of these guys are such pigs. You want to come in?”

“Here’s fine. Do you know where Jason and Celia are?”

Try the Oakwood Inn, he thought. Frowning, he shook his head. “I don’t know. The last I saw of Jason, he was taking off from here to pick her up. He planned to take her to the Lobster Shanty.”

“You haven’t heard from him since then?”

“No.” He wondered if Alison always wore her blouses buttoned that high. He imagined slicing off each button with his knife and spreading open the blouse.

Alison’s eyes narrowed. Mind reader? Roland wondered. “So you don’t have any idea where they might be?” she asked.

“Well, not really. Maybe. I don’t want you thinking I’m a snoop, but…”

“Don’t worry about what I think.”

“Well, yesterday afternoon I noticed that Jason had a couple of telephone numbers on his desk. He wasn’t around and I was a little curious, so I called the numbers. You know, just for the hell of it. One was the Lobster Shanty. When I called the other number, I got the registration desk of a motel in Marlowe.”

“A motel? What was the name of it?”

Roland frowned. “The…uh…” He shook his head. “Jeez, what was it? I really can’t remember. It’ll probably come to me later. Anyway, I guess Jason was thinking about taking her there.”

“Why all the way in Marlowe?”

“You’d have to ask Jason. I don’t have any idea. He did take an overnight bag with him when he left.”

“It still seems pretty strange that they’d be gone this long.”

Roland smiled. “They must be having a good time.”

Alison didn’t look amused.

“I’m sure there’s no reason to be worried. They’ll probably be back pretty soon—unless they decide to stay over another night.”

“Yeah,” Alison muttered. From the look on her face, she wasn’t convinced.

Shit, Roland thought. I should’ve told her Jason had phoned and said they’d be staying over.

He could call Alison later and tell her that. But would she believe him?

It doesn’t matter.

She won’t be with us long enough to cause any trouble.

“I wouldn’t worry,” he said, “unless they don’t get back tomorrow morning. Jason has a ten o’clock. I’m sure he’ll be back in time for that.”

Alison nodded. “You’re sure you can’t remember the name of the motel?”

“I might think of it later. I could give you a call if it comes to me.”

“Okay. I probably won’t be there, but you can leave the message with Helen. Do you have something to write down my number?”

“It’s in the student directory, isn’t it?”