Richard Laymon - Fiends

It felt great.

But she wanted to use soap and get herself clean.

Hard to do that with a can of beer in one hand.

So she turned away from the shower. With the spray splattering her back and sliding down her buttocks and legs, she tilted the can to her mouth and drank.

Gulped it down.

All of it.

Then belched.

From the other side of the shower curtain, Willy said, ‘Excuse you.’

Marty jumped and her feet slipped out from under her.

As she started to fall, she dropped the beer can and made a grab for the curtain rod. It broke loose and she followed it sideways over the edge of the tub. She landed on her back, both legs propped up by the tub.

‘Nice fall,’ Willy said. ‘Nice view.’

She swung her legs down to the floor, clamped a hand between them and crossed her other arm over her breasts. Raising her head, she looked at Willy.

He stared down at her, grinning. ‘Pretty as a picture,’ he said. ‘Wish I had me a camera.’

‘Where’s Dan?’

‘Who?’

‘Dan.’

‘Oh, the prick?’ Willy spread his arms. The front of hits T-shirt was soaked with blood. ‘I stabbed him with my little knife. Took his billfold. He didn’t have much cash to speak of. A shitty thirty bucks and change. You really oughta go out with a better class of guy. Like me.’

‘You… killed him?’

‘Maybe yes, maybe no.’

‘God.’

‘You really shouldn’t have sent him after me, honey.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Bitch.’Willy took a wallet out of his back pocket and threw it at Marty. It slapped her bare shoulder and bounced off. ‘Time to go.’ He slipped a faded blue towel off its bar and flung it. It dropped across Marty’s knees, but she didn’t make a move to take it. ‘Now,’ he said.

Sitting up quickly, she grabbed the towel.

‘Don’t just sit there, dry yourself.’

Holding the towel against her body, she carefully got to her knees.

‘Now!’

‘Turn around,’ she said.

‘My ass. I’ll give you five. One.’

Clasping the towel to her breasts, she reached out sideways with her free arm. She groped blindly, keeping her eyes on Willy.

‘Two.’

Her hand found the side of the bathtub. She braced her palm against it and pushed herself up.

‘Three.’

She stood up straight.

‘Four.’

She glanced from side to side, looking for a weapon. Anything heavy or sharp. Nothing.

‘Five.’

She backed away as he came forward.

‘You know what happens now?’ he asked. ‘I’m gonna dry you myself.’

‘No.’

‘Yep. You had your chance. I counted five. Lucky me.’

‘Please.’

Her jerked the towel away from her. ‘Nice. Real nice. Last time I saw you stripped, you didn’t have hardly any tits at all. Look at ’em now.’

She tried to push past him. He shoved her backward against the wall. With the towel in both hands, he started rubbing her.

‘Stop it! Don’t!’

‘Real nice.’

‘You damn bastard!’

‘I’m not hurting you.’

‘Stop it!’

‘How does that feel?’

‘You…!’

‘Honk honk!’

‘Bastard!’

He laughed.

Marty drove her knee up, changing his laugh to a squeal of pain.

As he started to fold, she shoved him. He fell backward. She leaped over him and ran for the bathroom door.

She rushed through the door and threw it shut. A moment later, a blast slammed the air. A bullet knocked through the door, throwing splinters into her forearm.

As she ran across the front room, she snatched her blouse up off the floor. She thrust her wounded arm through a sleeve. Some splinters caught the cloth. Others flattened down. She hardly noticed the pain as she made for the front door.

She flung it open. As she raced outside, she got her other arm into its sleeve.

A car was parked along the roadside. Willy’s Chevy.

The street was deserted. The nearest building, half a block to the south, had no lights in its windows. A couple of hundred yards up the road, the woods began.

The woods and Wilson Lake.

If he catches me there…

But it seemed like the only place to go.

The rough asphalt was hot under Marty’s feet as she sprinted up the road. She pumped her arms, throwing out her legs as far as they would stretch, her bare feet reaching out but never far enough. Never fast enough.

She kept running, taking gulps of air in quick gasps, her open blouse flapping behind her.

Soon, she felt an unusual warmth inside her legs. In the muscles of her thighs and calves. Though she tried to work them as fast as before, they began to feel tired and heavy. She swung her arms harder to make up for it. The weariness started inside them, too.

But she kept running.

As she took the turn into the woods, she glanced back.

Car headlights came on.

She tried to run faster. With every stride, her arms and legs struggled against the heaviness. Her lungs burned.

But still she kept running.

Finally, she came to the parking lot by the lake.

Last night, it had been crowded with teenaged lovers in cars. Tonight, it was empty.

Nobody to help her.

Marty dashed for the far side of the lot. She heard the racing engine of the car. Blocking her way was a fallen, long-dead tree. She planted a hand on it, kicked her leg into the air, and vaulted it just as the headlights started sweeping the lot.

She squatted with her back against the trunk and shut her eyes. Her hands were slippery against her knees. Sweat streamed down the burning sides of her face. She took deep, painful breaths, hoping to recover quickly enough to do some good.

Then she turned around and looked over the top of the tree trunk.

Willy was out of his car, walking along the other side of the parking lot, peering into the darkness, pausing to listen.

It wouldn’t take him long to find her. A few minutes, maybe. Gotta do something!

Then she saw the silver path of the full moon shining on the lake.

Ahead of him on the dark road, Roger saw a neon sign flashing, WAYSIDE MOTOR INN. The pale blue lights below it read ‘Vacancy.’

‘Hey hey!’ he said. ‘A port in the storm.’

‘Hope they’ve got food,' Tina said. ‘I’m starving to death.’

‘Mah dear, ports in the storm are renowned for their cuisine.’ He pulled to a stop in front of the motel office. ‘You can wait here,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a flash.’

Inside the office, he asked for a room with twin beds. The manager, a stooped and bony old crone losing the last of her white hair, squinted out the office window.

‘My daughter,’ Roger explained. ‘The spitting image of her mother, God rest her soul.’

The old woman’s watery eyes narrowed at him.

Roger solemnly shook his head. ‘Life is so fleeting,’ he said. ‘Feeble candle flames are we, snuffed, perchance, by a vagrant breeze.’

The old woman seemed to shrink. ‘Forty bucks,’ she said, and pushed a registration card at him. ‘Fill this out.’

As he wrote the requested information on the card, he asked. ‘How late does your cafe stay open?’

‘Never closes.’

He paid, and she gave him a room key.

Back at the car, he climbed in and said, ‘All set. Room sixteen.’ He looked through the cafe windows as he drove by. A lone man sat at the counter. Two couples and a family of six sat at the booths along the wall. ‘It doesn’t appear crowded. The food’s probably greasy enough to lubricate a fleet of Lincolns.’

‘I hope it isn’t closing.’

‘The manager informs me that it stays open continuously.’