Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

"Just off in the trees," said the one in the hat.

"Don't you have a fire?" Nick asked.

"I wanted one," said the other.

"A fire just makes you colder. And it kills your night vision. And it lets everyone for ten miles know you're there. Not real healthy when you're three girls camping alone."

"Three of you?" Nick asked.

"Barb's back at camp."

"You're not Doreen and Audrey, I take it," Julie said.

"Who?"

"I didn't think so." At the sound of footsteps behind her, Julie turned around. Benny and the twins were coming slowly forward. "They're not Doreen and Audrey," she said.

The girl in the cowboy hat tapped ash off her cigarette. "This Doreen and Audrey, you looking for them or something?"

Julie explained, telling briefly of Karen's story and how they'd used it as an excuse, tonight, to explore the lake's shoreline.

"Something like a snipe hunt," said the girl in the hat.

"More like a ghost hunt," said the other.

"If we'd known, we could've screamed it up for you."

"I almost did anyway. Still jumpy from that nut case."

"What's that?" Nick asked.

The girl folded her arms across her sweatshirt and looked at her friend. "We'd better warn 'em."

"Which way are you guys heading?"

"Over to the Triangle Lakes area," Nick said.

"Then you'll be heading over Carver Pass, tomorrow. You know the area?"

"Just from maps."

"Well, there's a couple of lakes just the other side of the pass. The Mesquites. We stopped at one of them for lunch today, and ran into some crazy old bag."

"A real weirdo." "We went in swimming, and she popped up out of nowhere and started raving about water snakes."

"Scared the hell out of us."

"Speak for yourself. Anyway, I didn't see any snakes. I think she was just some kind of lunatic trying to get rid of us. I wouldn't worry much about her, if I were you guys. She might even be gone, by now."

"Might not," her friend countered.

"If you stop there, just don't be too surprised if you run into her, that's all."

"Sounds like a good place to avoid," Julie said. The ranger, she remembered, had already advised them to pass up the Mesquites. Did he know about the crazy woman? That didn't seem likely.

"I mean, we don't want to scare you," said the girl in the sweatshirt. "She didn't do anything. Just yelled at us. But she was definitely creepy. She had this look in her eyes. And she wasn't even dressed like a camper. I mean — do you believe it? — she was actually wearing a dress!"

"Sort of a housedress," added the other girl, mashing her cigarette stub on the sole of her boot. "A faded old thing."

"And hiking boots."

"Did you see her knife?"

"Knife?"

"On her belt. Looked like a bowie knife. A huge sucker."

"Lovely," Julie muttered. "A crazy woman with a bowie knife. I think we'll stay away from that lake for sure."

Karen hung upside down in the overturned car, clawing for the seat-belt buckle, unable to find it. "Buckle up for safety, buckle up," the old jingle taunted her. "I'll warm you up," said a voice from the window.

She knew what she would see if she turned her head, and the thought of it terrified her. She didn't want to see. But she couldn't stop herself. Her head turned slowly toward the open window. Go away! she thought. I'll shut my eyes and he'll go away. She shut them, but her eyelids were transparent and she gazed at the charred face. Wisps of smoke curled out of its empty sockets, the hole where its nose should have been, its mouth.

"Turnabout's fair play," it said, blowing smoke into her eyes. The mouth twitched in a blistered grin, cracking the black flesh of its cheeks.

"No!" she cried. "It wasn't my fault!"

He thrust a gasoline spout at her face. The foul liquid gushed out, stinging her eyes, filling her nostrils. She opened her mouth for a breath and gasoline filled it, choking her.

He grabbed her shoulder. She tried to pry the fingers loose. They were dry and brittle, and she knew they would break off if she pulled hard enough.

"Karen!"

She woke up, gasping. Scott was kneeling beside her, a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Thank God you woke me."

"Must've been a hell of a nightmare." "It was." With trembling fingers, she found the zipper tab inside her sleeping bag and slid it down. She rolled onto her side to make room for Scott. He climbed in, pulled the zipper shut, and took her into his arms. Like last night, he wore only jockey shorts. His back was smooth and cold under her hands.

"You're shaking," he said.

"So are you."

"I'm frozen."

"I'm just scared out of my wits." She hugged him tightly.

"Chased by boogeymen?"

"Something like that." She let out a deep sigh. "I haven't had one like that in a long time."

"Sleeping on the hard ground'll do that to you. I've been having some pretty wild dreams myself. Mostly about you."

"Not nightmares, I hope."

"No indeedy." He pulled her sweatshirt up so she was bare against his belly and chest. Gently, he stroked her back. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"You don't want to hear mine."

"Might help to talk about it. Maybe we can figure out what it means."

"I know what it means. And what brought it on, too — that business about the scars this afternoon."

His hands stopped moving. They pressed Karen closer against him. "Your accident?" he whispered.

"Yeah. Only it's not Frank trapped in the car, it's me. He was crouched by the window… all burnt up. He sprayed me with gas…"

"Good Christ."

"You woke me up before he got a chance to light it."

"Must've been awful."

"I've had it worse, sometimes. I usually wake up about the time he strikes the match, but a couple of times. I'm on fire and he crawls in through the window and. " She suddenly gagged.

Scott stroked the back of her head. "It's all right," he said. "Shh."

"Sorry."

"It's all right. I'll tell you about my dreams."

"Yours are nice, right?"

"Very nice. This morning — yesterday morning? — I dreamed it was raining and you came out of your tent in a clear plastic poncho, and nothing else."

"You're making this up."

"No. Honest. The rain was coming down real hard. Your hair was all matted down. Your face was slick and dripping. Water was streaming down the outside of your poncho, and I could see gooseflesh underneath. And your nipples were erect."

"Like now?"

A hand went to her breast. "Like now."

She sighed as he fingered the nipple.

"One thing was weird, though."

"What?"

"You know how dreams are."

"Weird."

"Right. Well, you didn't have any pubic hair. You'd shaved it off."

"This dream of yours is getting me hot."

"Me, too." His hand slid down, caressing her belly. It pushed inside her sweatpants. Slowly, it moved lower. "Just a dream," he said.

"I could shave it."

"It's nice this way."

"Hey, if you dream it's shaven, that's an expression of a frustrated desire, right? I'll do it. One of these days. It'll be a" — his sliding finger took her breath away — "a surprise."

"Want to hear the rest of the dream?"

"There's more?"

"Sure." His hand moved away, drawing a slick trail up her skin. He started pulling at the bow in her drawstring. "I said, 'You must be cold. What happened to your clothes?' And you told me Julie had stolen them." "Significant, that."

"She told you she'd hidden them so you'd have to stay in the tent."

"Away from you?"

"Could be." The drawstring loose, he pulled at Karen's sweatpants. She helped by kicking them down her legs. The inside of the sleeping bag felt cool and slippery on her bare skin. Scott caressed the back of her leg. His hand slid up her buttock, held it gently. "Anyway, I said I didn't want you to freeze. We went into my tent so I could get you some warm clothes, but the only clothes you wanted were the ones I was wearing."