Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

"What's crazy?" Dad asked.

"Well. maybe her blade was poisoned."

Benny's stomach knotted. "Curare," he muttered.

"Nobody's got curare out here," his father said. "And if they did, we wouldn't be standing around talking about it."

"Maybe something," Karen said. "Some kind of poison or germs." With her free hand, she touched the cut on

Benny's face. "I don't feel any swelling. There'd be swelling with snake venom. Besides, it'd take quite an amount to do much damage."

"Rabies?" Nick suggested.

Julie groaned.

"I don't want to get creepy," he went on, "but all it'd take is some saliva or blood from a rabid animal — ''

"I'd say it's pretty unlikely," Dad interrupted. "This had to be a spur-of-the-moment thing. Who's gonna have a rabid animal on hand?"

"A crazy old woman," Julie said.

"Pretty remote chance."

"It's possible, though," Mr. Gordon said. "You'll admit it's possible?"

"Anything's possible." Dad sounded annoyed.

"It does seem a little farfetched," Karen said, "but something like that, at least, would explain why she cut us. Otherwise, what's the point?"

"I don't know," Dad admitted. "I just hate to think that… I guess we'd better play it safe."

"We'll hike straight out," Mr. Gordon said. "I bet we can reach the roadhead in a day, if we really push it."

"It's mostly downhill," Julie added.

"Right," Dad said. "We'll lighten our packs. We can leave most of the food behind."

"What about the tents?" Nick asked.

"Forget 'em," Mr. Gordon said. "They're ten pounds each, and they're fucked anyway. We can make better time without 'em."

"I'm with you," Dad told him. "Leave the things. Let's pack up fast and — "

"Murderers!" The shrill outcry made Benny jump. Karen jerked her hand away and whirled around. Benny staggered backward a step. Through the sheets of water he saw a woman perched on a boulder near the shore. He felt warm urine spill down his leg, and fought to stop it.

Everyone stood motionless, staring at the woman. She stood with her feet spread apart, dress clinging to her legs, face a thin pale mask streaked with ropes of dark hair, arms raised overhead. The blade of a small knife jutted from one hand. From the other hung a pouch the size of a baby's head.

"Murderers!" she shrieked again. "You're cursed!" She shook the pouch. "I have your blood and hair! You killed my son and you'll die, every one of you! Cursed! My curse is on you!"

She leaped off the rock and took a few steps sideways, waving the pouch. Then she turned away and started to run.

Mr. Gordon lunged forward, but Dad grabbed his arm. "Let go! I'll nail her!"

Benny saw the woman dash behind an outcropping.

"Just wait," Dad told Mr. Gordon. "What if she's not alone? What if someone's waiting to pick you off?"

Mrs. Gordon rushed from her tent, Heather and Rose following close behind. They wore yellow slickers and rain hats, and Benny couldn't tell which was Heather until one of the girls waved at him. "Who was that?" Mrs. Gordon asked.

"Some crazy old bag," said Mr. Gordon.

"Apparently the mother," Dad explained, "of the guy who attacked Karen and Julie."

"A witch," Benny said.

The others acted as if they didn't hear him. "What did she want?" Mrs. Gordon asked.

Her husband shrugged. "God only knows."

"Is she the one who took the body?"

"She didn't say."

"She put a curse on us," Benny said loudly. "A death curse. She's a witch."

"Bullshit," Mr. Gordon said.

"Bullshit or not," Karen told him, "that woman did, in fact, put a curse on us. In a way, though, it's a relief. I don't think she cut us to infect us — just to get blood for her hex or whatever."

"That is how it sounded," Dad admitted. "The gal's obviously a nut case. Unless it was all a show to lure us after her."

Benny took a deep breath. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose. He shoved them back into place, and wrinkled his nose to hold them there. "Do you want to know what I think?" he asked.

"I think we'd better get out of here," Mr. Gordon said. "Rabies or no rabies, the quicker we get back to the cars, the better. We don't want to spend another night out here if we can help it. A loony like that gal, there's no telling what she might do."

"Especially," Julie added, "if she's not alone."

"Can I say something?" Benny asked again.

"What's this about rabies?" Mrs. Gordon asked.

"Probably a false alarm, but — "

"Benny has something to say," Karen broke in.

"Shoot," Dad told him.

"I know I'm just a kid and everything, but I think we better not leave here till we get our stuff back."

"What stuff?" Dad asked.

"Our blood and hair. She's got it in that pouch, I think."

"She's welcome to it," Dad said.

"She'll use it. You know, like with a voodoo doll? You need the person's hair or clothes to make it work. If she's got our hair and blood, she can use it like that."

"To make voodoo dolls?" Karen asked.

"Or something. I don't know. I just know she can't mess with us if we take our stuff away from her."

"For cryin' out loud, Benny."

"What if he's right?" Nick asked. "I mean, I'm not saying I believe it, but — "

"You'd certainly better not believe it," Mrs. Gordon scolded. "It's blasphemy."

"It's bullshit."

"Please, Arnold."

"Can't we just get out of here," Julie said, "before anything else happens?"

"We can't get away from a curse," Benny warned. "I'm telling you, we'd better — "

"Spare us, okay?"

"Look, Benny," Dad said, "I understand you're worried about this thing, but a curse is in the same category as zombies and vampires and ghosts. It's make-believe. It doesn't really exist. All it can do is frighten us; it can't really hurt us. Guns and knives and hatchets can hurt us, but a curse is just words. Okay? So let's just try to forget about it and move out of here before we have something real to contend with."

Benny shrugged. He knew it was pointless to argue. "All right," he muttered. "But we'll be sorry."

Good grief, hon, you're a wreck."

"Tell me about it," Karen said. She swung her pack to the floor, crossed to the couch, sat down, and started to unlace her boots.

"A disaster, huh?" Meg lowered her husky body into a chair, and hooked a leg over one of its padded armrests. She took a cigarette from the side pocket of her housecoat. "How'd you get the shiner? Bump into a tree, or did Scott smack you around?"

"A guy attacked me." Karen pulled off her boots and leaned back against the soft cushions.

Meg groaned as she lit her cigarette. She inhaled deeply and blew smoke out her nostrils. "How do you mean, attacked?"

"He raped me."

"Good Christ! Are you kidding? Are you okay?"

"Mostly bruises."

"My God," she muttered. "Jesus Almighty Christ, that's…" She shook her head. Her face was twisted with disgust. "How could it happen? There was a whole army with you."

"I was alone in the tent."

"Must've been. Karen, Karen."

"I don't remember any of it. He knocked me unconscious. Scott was with me when I came to."

The cigarette trembled in Meg's fingers as she raised it to her lips. "What happened to the bastard that did it?"

"He was killed."

"Good. I hope he died slowly. I'd have cut off his dick."

"Then I'm glad you weren't there," Karen said. With a moan, she lifted her feet and propped them on the coffee table. She folded her hands on her belly. "I'm sore all over," she muttered. "We hiked out of there in one day — a night and a day. Then spent half a day at the sheriff's office. Then a few hours at some damn hospital for rabies tests."