Richard Laymon - Flesh

Alison nodded. She suddenly felt sick, and didn’t know whether it was the godawful odors from Jake or learning that Roland had died. I killed him, she thought.

It’s good that he’s dead.

I killed him.

It was self-defense. He deserved to die after what he did to Helen…what he did, maybe, to Celia.

“Gouging his eye?” she muttered.

“He had a bad stomach wound when we found him. I suspect that was the finishing touch.”

“A stomach wound? So it wasn’t me who killed him?”

“Wasn’t you.”

“Thank God.”

“I’d better take a shower before you pass out on me. You’re looking a little green around the gills.”

She nodded. “What is that odor?”

“I found Roland in his car parked on a side street near the campus. I didn’t want to take a chance of the…remember that snake-thing I told you about?”

“I don’t think I’m likely to forget that.”

“Well, I doused Roland’s car with gasoline and torched it. With him in it.”

“Christ.”

“The idea was to burn the snake-thing. Afterward, I had the coroner cut Roland open to see if we could find it.” Jake shook his head. “Wasn’t in him. We think it left from his stomach. That’s what made the wound that probably polished him off. It knew that Roland was on his last legs, wouldn’t be any more use.”

“It broke out of him…like that monster in Alien?”

“Something like that. We’re hoping Roland was inside the car when it happened. All the windows were rolled up. So if the thing was trapped in the car, it almost has to be dead. I searched the rubble afterward. Couldn’t find any trace of the thing, but that doesn’t mean much. Might’ve been nothing left but a heap of ashes.”

“It might be dead, then, or it might not?”

“We’re going to assume it’s alive until we know otherwise.”

“And if it is alive?”

“Then it’ll try to find someone else to get in, and we’re pretty much back where we started. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you the whole mess is over.”

“But maybe it is.”

“I’d bet a month’s salary that the damned thing is dead. But I won’t bet your life on it.” He rubbed the shirt across his face, smearing sweat and soot. “I’d better take that shower, now.” He stepped past Alison and headed for the hallway.

When she noticed the sound of the water running, she realized that she hadn’t moved since Jake left. She dragged the shotgun over to the door and propped it against the wall. She attached the guard chain.

The disgusting odors still filled the room. In the kitchen, she searched until she found candles in a drawer. She lighted three of them, dripped wax onto paper plates, and stuck them upright. She brought the candles into the living room and placed them on the coffee table.

Sitting on the sofa, she leaned back and propped her feet on the table between two of the candle plates.

She wondered if Jake would come back into the room after his shower. Maybe they could have a drink together.

He’d been through a nightmare of his own, tonight: burning Roland, watching while the coroner cut him open. That one odor, the really bad one…

And he apologized to me for not having better news.

Maybe he won’t like seeing the candles. They might remind him of what happened earlier.

Alison sniffed. The nasty odors seemed faint. She puffed out the candles and carried them back into the kitchen. Then she went to the front door. She opened it enough to peer out, then shut it again, removed the guard chain, and swung the door wide.

The breeze smelled wonderful. It blew her hair. It felt cool and good on her body. She opened the sweater. The breeze caressed her through the negligee, moved up her bare legs. It felt just as fine as before, when she was standing naked at her bedroom window, and then it stopped feeling fine as the memory surged in of waking to find Roland above her. Moaning, she swung the door shut. She leaned against it, head against her crossed arms.

“Alison?”

She turned around. Jake was standing in the hallway entrance, wearing a robe.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Not very. How about you?”

“Better.”

“I was just letting in some fresh air.”

She saw his gaze stray downward, then back to her face. Just in time to catch my blush, she thought.

“I guess I’d better hit the sack,” Jake said. “Don’t you want to trade places? I’m sure my bed would be a lot more comfortable for you.”

“The sofa’s fine. Really.”

“It’s up to you.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, see you in the morning, Alison. Sleep tight, huh?”

“Yeah. You, too.”

He turned away. Alison looked down at herself. You sure gave him an eyeful, she thought. He noticed, too, but he didn’t get funny. That’s good. Would’ve been awkward if he’d decided it was some kind of an invitation.

Was it some kind of an invitation? she wondered. How come I didn’t bother pulling the sweater shut before I turned around? He probably thinks I did it on purpose.

I bet that’s why he ran off so fast. He came in, maybe to spend a while talking, saw me like this, and decided he’d better beat a quick retreat.

Scared him away.

Don’t flatter yourself, she thought. He left because he’s had a long, rough day and he’s tired. Probably didn’t care, one way or the other, about me and my nightie.

She took off the sweater. Standing there, she folded it slowly and watched the hallway.

Jake was probably in bed already.

Alison moved quietly through the room, turning off lights. There was no need for the lights now that Jake was here.

It felt good, knowing that he was in the house, only a few seconds away.

Alison lay down on the sofa and pulled the sheet up.

He didn’t have to rush off like that, she thought. We should’ve talked for a while.

She imagined herself walking down the dark hallway to his room. Asking if he was asleep. Telling him that she didn’t want to be alone, not just yet.

Why not crawl into his bed while you’re at it? Sure. You just dumped Evan because he wasn’t interested in anything but making it and you’re hot to jump in bed with a guy you hardly know.

I am not. I wouldn’t do that. Why am I even thinking about it, after all that’s happened tonight?

What do you want to think about—Helen?

She saw Helen on the bed, glasses crooked…

The image clenched her with cold, tight fists. She lurched up and gazed through the darkness, gasping.

When Jake woke up, his room was bright. He squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Almost ten o’clock. But what day was this? Monday.

He rolled onto his belly and pushed his face into the soft warmth of the pillow.

Need to get up, he thought. Need to—what? Go back to where you found Roland, check around, talk to people. What for? See if they saw anything. A snake in the grass.

Shit. It seemed pointless.

Need to do something, though. Need to make sure the thing’s dead, is what. Cause if it’s not dead, Alison…

She’s here. Sleeping on the sofa.

And me in my bed. What virtue. Congratulations, Corey.

Missed your big chance.

It would’ve been wrong. Taking advantage.

I know, he thought. Don’t I know. Fell asleep last night telling myself just how wrong it would be…and how nice. Even if we’d done no more than hold each other, it would’ve been fine.

He remembered how small and vulnerable she had looked sitting behind Barney’s desk, holding onto the coffee cup as if it were a talisman that would keep harm away. And sitting in the car, that nightie barely covering her legs. And when he came out after the shower and her sweater was open.