Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

Finally, she pushed herself up. The man was still on his back. His knees were up. He was hugging his stomach and wheezing.

Nick was rolling over.

He's alive!

Julie got to her feet. She flung aside the fallen curtain, and lifted the television. Staggering toward the man, she raised it high. Her arms trembled as she held it above his face. She stared down at him. "No," he gasped. "Don't. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."

Her arm muscles shuddered with the weight.

He pressed his hands to his bloody face, and started to sob.

Twisting sideways, Julie dropped the television. It crashed to the floor just above his head. "Leave us alone," she muttered, and went to Nick.

"Here it is," Karen said. "Vista Terrace. Go right on Ventura to Avenida del Sol. Then it's a left."

Scott turned a knob, and the ceiling light went off.

Karen held the atlas on her lap. She grabbed the dashboard with her other hand as the car skidded around a corner. "They'll be all right," she said.

"I shouldn't have let them go."

"You couldn't have known."

"Goddamn it!"

"Nick's with her. They'll be all right."

She saw a stop sign ahead. Scott didn't slow down. As he sped toward the intersection, Karen spotted headlights to the right. "Look out!"

He accelerated, the thrust of the car shoving her against the seat. Light glared through her window. A horn blasted. She hugged her head. Then the brightness was gone, the noise of the horn fading behind them.

"Scott!"

He didn't answer. He was hunched over the steering wheel, speeding up the center of the deserted road.

Karen tried to keep her voice calm. "It won't do Julie any good if we get ourselves killed."

"Fucking curse."

''It's on us, too, Scott.''

Julie flung open the front door. Dropping to a crouch, she snatched up the tire iron. She rushed into the parlor and gave it to Nick. The man was lying facedown now, holding his head and crying softly. "If he tries anything, beat the crap out of him."

She left Nick kneeling beside the man, and hurried into the alcove. The phone was beeping loudly. She pushed its plungers, lifted the handset off the desk, and got a tone. Quickly, she dialed.

It rang once. "Hello?" Benny's voice.

"It's me."

"Julie! Are you okay?"

"Is Dad there?"

"No. He's on the way to pick you up. The cops are on the way, too."

"They know where we are?"

"Yeah."

"How long ago did Dad leave?"

"I don't know, five minutes? What happened?"

"Some nut tried to kill us."

"It's the curse."

"Brilliant deduction, Bonzo." She hung up.

They sped west on Ventura Boulevard, Scott weaving through the traffic. He accelerated to make it through a yellow light, but was forced to stop at the next main intersection because the cars ahead of him blocked the way. He pounded a fist on the steering wheel. "Come on, come on, come on," he muttered.

Tilting the atlas to catch the light from the streetlamps, Karen drew a finger along the thick line of Ventura. "Avenida del Sol," she said, "should be two blocks up."

"I make a left," he said.

"Yeah. Then it's a few blocks. We'll come to a Y. You stay to the left. It'll run into Vista Terrace."

"Which way on Vista?"

"Left again. It doesn't go the other way."

The traffic began to move. He stayed in the left-hand lane, hissing through clenched teeth, pounding the wheel and muttering about the slowness of the car ahead.

"The police are probably there by now," Karen said.

"God, I hope so."

The car sprang out as if escaping, and swung across three lanes of oncoming traffic. The force of the turn shoved Karen against her door. Horns blared. Then they were speeding along Avenida del Sol. The residential road was dark except for a few streetlamps. There were no cars approaching. Scott steered up the center line.

"Don't let them see the gun," Karen warned.

"Huh?"

"The cops. If they see you with the gun, they might shoot."

Julie flinched as a clamor resounded through the house. "I'll get it," she said. Pushing against Nick's shoulder, she rose from her knees and rushed out of the parlor.

In the dim foyer, she grabbed the doorknob. She hesitated. "Who is it?" she called.

"Police officers."

She opened the door, and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the two uniformed patrolmen.

"Here's the Y," Karen said. "Veer left. We're almost there."

He slowed down slightly as the road narrowed, and then Karen saw taillights through the thick bushes to the right. Scott hit the brakes and horn before she yelled. He swerved away, but the car speeding down the driveway slammed into them just ahead of Karen with a deafening crunch of metal. The impact threw her against the door.

Their headlights jarred over a hedge across the road. Then they were crashing through the bushes, skidding down a slope. Karen thrust her hands against the ceiling as the car rolled over. The windshield shattered. The roof quavered. She thought it would cave in but it held as the car slid and wobbled to a stop.

She was upside down, the harness cutting into her shoulder and lap.

Just like before.

Only now it was Scott, not Frank, hanging unconscious beside her as smoke started spilling from under the hood.

There were four of them.

They came down the trail from Carver Pass at dusk, walking single file.

Ettie, crouched behind an outcropping near her cave, could see only their vague shapes in the distance. But she knew who they were. She knew why they'd come. They were the survivors. They'd come to kill her. She was pleased there were only four.

Karen slipped on the loose earth of the footpath, landed on her rump, and skidded. She dug in the heels of her boots to stop herself. The tingling pain of her scraped buttocks brought tears to her eyes. She wiped them away. Nick and Benny took her by the arms and helped her up.

She followed them to the bottom of the path, with Julie staying behind her. They walked along the lakeshore toward the stand of pine where they'd camped that Monday night, but were still a good distance away when Benny sat on the ground.

Karen stopped beside him. She dropped her pack, and kneeled in front of it. A breeze chilled the back of her sweaty blouse as she unstrapped a side pocket and took out Scott's.45 automatic. She jacked a cartridge into the chamber, switched the safety on, and sat down. She leaned back against her pack, and rested the heavy pistol on the lap of her jeans.

Benny was lying on his back with his knees in the air. Julie was settled against her pack. They were sweaty, gasping for breath. Nick, crouching over his open pack, took out a hatchet. Scott's hatchet. The sheriff still had Nick's. He sat down, and took off its leather sheath.

Karen shut her eyes. Her heart was racing and she felt nauseated. Sweat streamed down her face. She wiped it with her bare forearm, and let the shaking arm fall to her lap. Her wristbone hit the pistol, and she whimpered.

"Let's get moving," Nick said. His sudden voice made Karen flinch.

"I can't," Julie said. "Let's wait."

"A little while."

Karen heard movement. Through half-open eyelids, she watched Julie crawl over to Nick and hold him. He stroked her hair. For a moment, he looked as if he might cry.

He'd done some crying in the station wagon today — no, yesterday. It was all so confused in Karen's mind, as if she'd been in a daze ever since pulling Scott's unconscious body from the wreck. That was two nights ago. Last night was Juniper Lake and horrible dreams that kept waking her until Benny crawled into her sleeping bag and they embraced and finally fell asleep in each other's arms.