Laymon Laymon: The Woods Are Dark

Sherri, beside her, suddenly gasped.

Neala saw it, too. She hit the brakes.

Her friend thrust a hand against the windshield as the car jerked to a stop.

In front of them, the legless thing dragged itself over the road with powerful, hairy arms.

“What the fuck is it?” Sherri muttered.

Neala shook her head.

Then it faced them.

Nealas hands clenched the steering wheel. Stunned, she tried to figure out what she was seeing. It hardly looked like the face of a man.

The thing turned. It started to drag itself toward the car.

“Get out of here!” Sherri cried. “Quick! Back up!”

“What is it?” Neala asked.

“Let’s go!”

Neala backed up, but slowly, just enough to keep away from the approaching creature. She couldn’t take her eyes off its bloated face.

“Run it over!” Sherri snapped.

She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s a man. I think it’s a man.”

“Who cares? For Godsake, run it over and let’s get the fuck out of here!”

It sat up, balancing on its torso, freeing its arms. It leered at Neala.

“Oh God,” Sherri muttered.

It fumbled at an opening in its furry vest. A pocket? It pulled out a severed human hand, kissed its palm, and tossed it. The hand flipped toward Neala. She ducked her head, felt it in her hair, and knocked it aside. It fell into the gap between the bucket seats.

The legless thing scuttled off the road and disappeared into the forest.

Neala looked down at the hand, at its crooked fingers, its coral-painted nails, the white band of skin where a wedding ring used to be. Lunging sideways, she threw herself over her door and vomited onto the pavement. When she was done, she turned to her friend.

“We’ve gotta get rid of it,” Sherri said.

“I…”

Snarling as if enraged, Sherri clutched the hand by its fingers and flung it from the car. “God!” She rubbed her hand furiously on her shorts.

Neala sped away.

As she drove, her mind repeated the incident again and again. She needed to make sense of it, but no matter how she concentrated, it wouldn’t fall into a pattern she could accept. The scene belonged in a nightmare, not on a peaceful road on the way to Yosemite.

She was glad to see a town ahead—not much of a town, to be sure. Up in these areas, though, they never were.

“Maybe they’ve got a police department,” she said.

“You’re not planning to stop!”

“We ought to tell someone.”

“Tell Father Higgins, for Godsake. Save it for confession. Jesus, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“We can’t just forget about it.”

“Forget about it? Every time I shut my eyes, I’m going to be looking into that repulsive, gloating…” Sherri jerked her head sharply as if to shake the picture apart. “God, I’m never gonna forget about it. But we don’t have to go around making a big deal of it, okay? Let’s just keep it to ourselves. It’s water over the dam, you know?”

They had already left half the town behind. Ahead of them, Neala saw a bait shop, Terk’s Diner, and the Sunshine Motor Inn.

“Why don’t we stop at the diner?” Neala suggested.

“Why don’t we not?”

“Come on. It’s almost seven. We could both use some supper.”

“You mean you can eat after that?”

“I can try. I’d sure like to get out of the car and relax, at least. Try to think it out. Talk it over. Besides, there’s no telling when we’ll hit another restaurant.”

“You call this a restaurant?”

“Hey, this is your kind of joint. Probably filthy with greasy spoons and ’characters’.”

Sherri managed a smile. “Okay. But let’s keep the freak to ourselves.”

Neala turned onto the gravel parking area, and shut down the engine. They latched the roof into place, rolled up the windows, and locked the doors. Before starting across the gravel, Neala stretched. She was stiff from the long day in the car. Standing on tiptoe, shoulders straining back, she felt the luxury of her tensing muscles. The movement pulled her shirt taut across her chest. She liked its feel against her nipples, and thought how long it had been since she’d felt the eager touch of a man’s fingers or tongue on her breasts.

Maybe up in Yosemite, she’d get lucky.

Meet a rugged mountain man.

One for Sherri, too. I’m not selfish

“I feel almost human again,” she said, meeting Sherri behind the car.

They crossed the gravel lot to the entrance of the diner. Sherri pulled open the screen door, and they entered.

Neala liked the warmth. The familiar aromas made her long for a cheeseburger and french fries. “Counter?” she asked, seeing a pair of empty stools at the end. The other half a dozen were occupied.

“Let’s take a table,” Sherri said, surprising her.

Sherri usually preferred the counter, where she struck up conversations with nearby strangers.

Not tonight, apparently.

They slid into a booth on the side, facing each other. Sherri’s eyes briefly met Nealas, then lowered.

“Buck up, pardner,” Neala said.

“Sure thing.”

“Don’t be this way. Please.”

“Oh, how should I be?”

“Be the gutsy champ we all know and admire.”

That didn’t even get a smile from Sherri.

Neala needed that smile. She’d never felt so frightened, so alone. This was a hell of a time for Sherri to go silent and glum.

“Would it help if I apologize?” Neala asked.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It was my idea to go backpacking.”

“The freak wasn’t your idea.”

“That’s for damn sure. But if we’d stayed home…”

“It’s all right. Forget it.”

The waitress came. “Sorry to keep you folks waiting,” she said. She set water glasses on the table, and handed out menus.

When she left, they studied the menus. Usually, they would talk over the offerings, maybe decide to split an order of fries or onion rings, discuss whether to “blow it” and have milk shakes. Tonight, they were silent.

The waitress returned. “Ready to order?”

Neala nodded. “I’ll have one of your Terkburger Specials and iced tea.” She watched the gaunt, unsmiling woman write it down.

Can’t anybody smile tonight ? she wondered.

This gal ought to be happy as a lark, with a ring like that on her pinky.

“A patty melt,” Sherri said. “Fries, and a Pepsi.”

The woman nodded and walked away.

Sherri watched her, frowning.

“Did you get a load of her ring?” Neala asked, hoping to break the somber mood.

“How could I miss it? The thing nearly blinded me.”

“Do you suppose it was glass?”

“Looked real enough to me. I’m no expert, of course. Besides, I left my jeweler’s loupe at home.”

Neala laughed, and saw the hint of a smile on Sherri’s face. “It looked like a wedding ring,” she said.

“Wrong finger. Wrong hand, too. She probably outgrew it.”

“Her? She was nothing but bones.”

“Maybe it’s a friendship ring,” Sherri suggested. “I could use a friend like that. Money coming out his wazoo. If I were that girl, I’d blow this burg in about two seconds. Grab hold of the guy, and light out for the big city.”

When the waitress brought their supper, they both watched her hand.

“What do you think?” Neala asked when she was gone.

“I think it’s real.”

Neala bit into her Terkburger: a thick patty on a seed bun. Juice spilled down her chin. She backhanded it off, and reached for a napkin. “Delicious” she said.

“Same here,” said Sherri. Strings of limp onion dangled from the sides of her sandwich.

“Onion breath.”

“You planning to kiss me?” Sherri asked.