Richard Laymon - Fiends

She pulled out the stack of maps, found the Wisconsin map and put the others away.

‘Open it up.’

She spread the map open.

‘Okay. See a town called Marshall up to the left?’

‘I can’t see anything.’

Willy turned on the ceiling light. It cast a dim yellow glow onto the map.

‘Look near the top. A couple of inches from the top. Marshall.’

‘I don’t see any Marshall. There’s a Gribsby here.’

‘Down the road from Gribsby.’

‘Mawkeetaw?’

‘Down a bit more. Marshall. See it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. Now, there’s a lake over a bit to the right.’

‘Cricket?’

‘That’s her. See a little blue dot beside Cricket?’

‘No.’

‘A little tiny dot. A speck.’

‘I don’t see anything there.’

‘Well, some maps show it, some don’t. Anyhow, that’s where we’re heading. For the speck.’ He turned off the overhead light. ‘A real nice little lake. More like a pond. And you know the nice thing about it? Nobody ever goes there. Not a single motherfucking soul.’

‘Why not?’ Marty tongued her chipped tooth.

‘Fishing stinks. You can’t ski ’cause there ain’t enough room. And it’s harder than hell to find. There’s only one way in. You gotta take this shitty little dirt road that’s so fucked up you can hardly drive on it. Won’t be easy to find at night.’

‘Am I supposed to be your navigator?’

‘Yep. But we still got a ways to go. You can put it away for a while.’ She folded the map, but did it wrong.

‘Nobody ever teach you how to fold a map?’ Willy asked.

‘My education has been sadly neglected.’

He laughed. ‘Bet you learned a thing or two tonight.’

She dropped the map to the floor, and turned her face to the window. In her mind, she saw the shirtless man get knocked off his feet, a hole between his nipples.

‘Yeah,’ she muttered. ‘I learned a thing or two.’

Suddenly, her stomach twisted.

He’s a murderer.

It changed things.

Before, she had been a victim for Willy to kidnap and rape and brutalize any way he wanted. Bad enough.

Plenty bad enough.

But now, she was a witness to two murders.

He has to kill me.

I’ve gotta get out of here!

What about Dan? If he’s alive in the trunk…

I have to save him.

She took a deep, shaking breath, and said, ‘Thirsty?’

‘Huh?’

She opened the glove compartment and took out the heavy glass bottle of bourbon.

‘Holy shit! Good deal!’

Marty unscrewed the plastic cap, tilted the bottle to her mouth and took two quick swallows.

‘Save some for the fishies!’

She handed the bottle to Willy.

He drank. Then he said, ‘Good stuff.’

‘Sure is,’ Marty agreed. She smiled at him. The bourbon seemed to be burning out the bottom of her stomach.

Willy offered the bottle.

‘Thanks,’ she said, taking it.

‘Just don’t make a pig outa yourself.’

She tilted the bottle up.

The bourbon splashed against her tight lips. None got into her mouth. She lowered the bottle, wiped her lips dry, and handed it back to Willy.

‘Why don’t we listen to some music?’ she suggested, and reached for the radio.

The bottle knocked her hand away. ‘I don’t like music.’

‘It’d be nice and relaxing.’

‘We can relax at the cabin,’ he said, and took a swallow. ‘Just a couple more hours.’

‘Can’t we listen to music?’

‘Music sucks.’

‘Then is it okay if I take a nap?’

‘Sure thing. Wanta take off your clothes again?’

‘No.’

He laughed.

Marty made a show of stretching and yawning. Then she leaned against the passenger door and lifted her legs onto the seat. She wiggled as if trying to find a more comfortable position, and let her bare feet slip out from under her. They touched Willy’s hip. ‘Nother drink?’ he asked.

‘Sure.’ She stretched out her arm, pressing her feet harder against him. She pretended to take a swig.

‘Have more.’

She pretended to swig again. Then she handed the bottle back to Willy, and sighed loudly.

‘Lucky for you my hands are full,’ Willy told her.

Grinning, he took a drink.

Marty curled her toes against the side of his leg. She bent toward him. He gave her the bottle. While she lifted it to her mouth, Willy’s

free hand caressed her legs. She lowered her feet to the floor and scooted a little closer to him. His hand moved up her thigh, but she set down the bottle in its way. Laughing, he took hold of the bottle and picked it up. ‘What’ll you do when it’s empty?’ he asked.

‘I just don’t know,’ she said.

‘You’ll get fucked, that’s what.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ She started to move away from him.

He planted the bottle between his legs and threw an arm across her shoulders, stopping her. She relaxed against him. He lifted his arm off her, retrieved the bottle and drank several large swallows.

He clamped the bottle between his thighs again, and returned his arm to her shoulders.

‘Let me.’ She reached over and plucked out the bottle. When she raised it to her mouth, Willy’s arm pushed downward between her back and the seat. She leaned forward, sipping. His hand went under her jersey.

Marty didn’t resist.

She drank, instead.

His hand moved slowly up her side. It was warm and dry. The fingers were long. They caressed her skin as they roamed higher.

Marty took a big swallow of bourbon when the hand found her breast.

It tickled, it massaged, it squeezed.

Lowering the bottle, Marty clutched his hand and pressed it harder against her breast. She moaned. Clamping the bottle between her legs to free her other hand, she grabbed Willy’s thigh.

‘Go for it, honey,’ he said.

Marty squeezed his thigh until it must’ve hurt. Groaning, Willy dug his teeth into her shoulder. The car swerved. His groaning changed to a gasp of alarm. The hand under Marty’s jersey went still as he focused on steering.

When the car straightened out, he laughed and yelled, ‘Yeah!’ and gave her breast a tweak.

Marty flinched and grabbed his wrist. ‘Quit it, now,’ she said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I’ve been through a hell of a lot with you, Willy. I’ll probably go through lots more. But not, if I can help it, a windshield.’

‘Maybe I’d better pull over, huh?’

‘Maybe so,’ Marty said.

But he didn’t.

Roger stroked the length of Tina’s back, and kissed her shoulder. Still she continued to cry. He started to ask her what was wrong, but stopped himself. He was tired of asking, and tired of being answered with speechless sobs.

‘I wish you’d stop that,’ he finally said. ‘I hate it when a woman cries. Is it something I did?’

A muffled ‘No’ came from under the pillow.

‘Something I didn’t do or say?’

‘It isn’t you.’

‘Well, that’s nice to know. I wish you’d told me that half an hour ago.’ He pulled the pillow off her head. She looked up at him. Hair hung in her eyes. She pushed the hair away, and her eyes were red.

‘What is it?’ Roger asked. ‘I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but maybe I can help. You never know. I’ll help you if I can.’

‘Thanks,’Tina said.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You might feel better if you talk about it. That's what they always say, anyway. I don’t know how true it is.’

She sniffed and said nothing.

‘Is it a guy?’

She nodded.

‘What did he do? Did he hurt you?’