After Midnight (23 page)
The grand-daddy of all my injuries was my stomach, where I’d walked into that broken branch. It had rammed me and gouged me raw. Skin was ruffled up around the edges of the wound, and I had a bruise the size of a grapefruit.
Nothing looked bad enough to require medical attention, though.
I’d gotten off lucky.
At least compared to a few other people I could think of, such as Tony, Milo, the gal in Milo’s tent, and even Judy.
Three out of four needed a coroner, not a doctor.
I wondered how Judy was doing.
Probably still hanging there. Her wrists had been tied together
very
well. She might not be able to get loose at all. Not without help, anyway.
Watching myself in the mirror, I raised my arms high and crossed my wrists. I stood as Judy had been standing, probably
still was
. It made my breasts lift and my belly sink in. I’ve got a terrific build, but I looked even better that way.
Anybody would, I guess.
Maybe that’s why guys like to string up their victims by the wrists.
No. It might be one of the reasons, but not the main one. I’d spent enough time with Judy to know the truth about that. I sure did like how she looked so stretched and taut, but more important was that her whole body was right there dangling in the open. Nothing was hidden.
You had total access.
You could swing her. You could spin her. You could wander around her, look at any part of her. You could pick up her legs and spread them apart. Touch any part of her. Hurt any part of her.
I turned around slowly, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
And wished I could see Judy again.
Over at the tub, I shut off the faucets and eased myself down into the deep, hot water. It made my scratches sting a little, and felt like burning oil on the raw gouge from the branch. None of the really bad pain lasted more than a few seconds, though.
I leaned backward, easing myself down. Soon, my whole body was submerged except my face. The back of my head lightly rested against the rear of the tub. My buttocks lightly rested on the slippery tiles of the bottom. Nothing else of me touched the tub. I felt cool air on my face. Everywhere else was water. Its liquid heat surrounded me, wrapping me, caressing me softly all over, whispering in my ears, licking me between the toes and sliding into every crease and crevice.
It was luscious.
Heavenly.
After so many rough hours of fear and pain and strenuous labor, I’d come to a place of peace. My arms drifted beneath the surface, weightless and limp by my sides. My legs, open and bent at the knees, lingered at mid-depth as if held off the bottom by ribbons of silk. I heard little more than the quiet lapping of water. My muffled heartbeat sounded calm. Breathing slowly, I felt hot currents rub against my chest and breasts.
I supposed it would be a good idea to sit up, soap myself and shampoo my hair. But I couldn’t force myself to abandon the luxury of lounging motionless.
Suspended in the lazy heat.
After a while, my mind seemed to slide off into the air and drift out over the woods. I wasn’t searching for anything, just drifting. But when I saw the glow of a campfire, I went down for a closer look.
I found Judy suspended from the limb like before, shiny as oil and glowing with firelight. She still wore the red bandana loose around her neck.
But all her injuries were gone.
She looked beautiful.
As I walked up to her, she said, “I knew you’d come back, Alice.”
“Then you knew more than me.”
“I’ve
always
known more than you,” she said, and gave me a sly grin.
“I didn’t even know how to find this place,” I told her.
“How
did
you find it?”
“Just luck. It’s been my lucky night.”
“Mine, too,” Judy said.
“How do you figure that?”
“You came back for me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I did. I couldn’t just leave you here.”
“You’re such a softie.”
“That’s me,” I said, and smiled.
“Give me a kiss, you softie.”
Her words shocked me, thrilled me. I laughed and shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. Thanks anyway, but…”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she said.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You love me, don’t you?”
“No!”
“You came back because you love me.”
“That isn’t why.”
“Then why?”
“Only because it was wrong to leave you here. And because I don’t want you to die like this. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you died like this. You never did anything to hurt me. And you helped me with Milo.”
“You love me, don’t you?”
“Stop saying that.”
“Kiss me, and I’ll stop saying it.”
“I don’t want to kiss you.”
“Yes, you do.” She slid her tongue slowly across her lips, moistening them so they glistened. “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt a bit.”
“I know it won’t hurt,” I said. “That’s not why.”
“Then why?”
“Just because.”
“I’ll never tell,” she said. “I promise. Nobody will ever find out about this. It’ll be our secret, just between you and me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve wanted to kiss me from the start.”
“No.”
“Everywhere. You’ve wanted to kiss me everywhere. My mouth, my breasts…”
“Shut up.”
“Everywhere.”
“No.”
“Do it, Alice. Now. I want you. And I want you more than anything.”
I nodded, trembling. Then, I leaned in until our bodies met, and kissed Judy lightly on her open lips.
Her arms and legs clamped around me.
“Now I’ve got ya, bitch!”
But it wasn’t Judy saying that.
It was a man, his voice low and scratchy and
gleeful
.
This wasn’t Judy at all, not anymore. It was Milo, face bloody and eyes bulging, squeezing me so hard with his arms and legs that I was sinking deep into the soft bulges of his body, being enveloped by him. As I tried to scream, his mouth covered mine. His writhing lips felt slimy. He stuck his tongue into my mouth. Only it wasn’t his tongue. It was hard and thick, and he shoved it in deep. Thrust it down my throat.
I’ll bite it off, you…!
I suddenly came wide awake and found myself staring up through the water.
Shit!
I rammed my elbows against the bottom of the tub and burst through the surface fast, choking. I sat there, wracked with coughs. Some water had found its way into the wrong place, that was for sure. Probably not much, but enough to keep me coughing for a while.
After I finished, my chest ached every time I took a deep breath.
I was okay, but didn’t feel much like trying to relax in the water again. For one thing, I might catch another snootful. For another, I didn’t want any more dreams.
Dreams are so damn weird. If you ask me, the point of every single dream and nightmare is just to torment you. That’s all any of them ever do. They scare the crap out of you or they humiliate you. Or else they tantalize you with a situation that is really fabulous, wonderful beyond belief—only to jerk it away from you.
They twist things.
They really suck.
And they seem to be ten times worse—more real and more twisted—when you’re really tired.
I was hugely tired, so I didn’t dare relax again. I opened the bathtub drain and got to my feet. The water almost came up to my knees. The tub was so large, though, that I didn’t need to worry about it overflowing. As the water gurgled out, I slid the plastic curtain shut, turned the faucets on, and lifted the gizmo to start the shower.
The hot, stiff spray hissed down, pelting my scalp and face and shoulders. It felt great.
But two things were wrong.
First, the water made too much noise coming out, splashing my skin, pattering against the plastic curtain, raining against the water pooled in the tub. It made me worry about all the things I
couldn’t
hear. In other rooms, phones might be ringing. A window might be breaking. Someone could even kick open a door and I wouldn’t be able to hear it.
Second, the frosted white shower curtain hung between me and my saber.
What if I
needed
it?
After worrying for a while, I slid open the shower curtain, bent over and picked up the saber. I brought it in with me. Then I shut the curtain again and set the sword on the bottom of the tub.
I couldn’t hear any better, of course, but now I had a weapon. That made things all right.
I went ahead with my shower, sudsing myself all over with a bar of soap, then shampooing my hair, always being careful where I put my feet.
Naturally, nobody came along and tried to attack me.
They never attack you when you’re ready for them.
How about if old Mother Bates had swept open the shower curtain and found Janet Leigh facing her with a
cavalry saber!
Would’ve changed the course of movie history.
Anyway,
I
was ready. But nobody came.
Just as well. I’d had a long night.
When I was done with the shower, I turned off the water and opened the curtain. Squatting down, I picked up the sword. Then I climbed out of the tub, set the sword aside and stepped over to the towel rod.
Two matching bath towels hung there. They both looked clean, but I could tell that they weren’t fresh from the laundry. I didn’t know which had been used by Serena, which by Charlie, so I just grabbed one and started drying myself with it. The towel was enormous, thick and soft. As I buried my face in it, I wondered who it had rubbed, and where. Not that it mattered much. I was just curious, that’s all. Either of them using it on any parts of themselves was fine with me, and nice to think about.
After drying myself, I dried the sword. I was very careful doing that, because I didn’t want to cut the towel.
Then I applied some of Serena’s roll-on deodorant to my underarms. I knew this was hers, not Charlie’s, because I recognized the scent.
I used Serena’s hairbrush. The mirror was fogged up, except near the bottom, so I had to squat very low in order to see my head in it. I gave my hair a quick brushing, then stood up again.
Finally, I put on Charlie’s silk robe and left the bathroom. Of course, I took along my sword and bag of goodies.
While I’d been in the tub, the sun had come up. Even with most of the curtains shut, the house was filled with grayish light.
In the laundry room, I took all my things out of the washing machine. I loaded them into the drier and started it. Then I went to the front door.
I opened it and walked to the edge of the stoop.
Morning was here, all right. The sun was still very low in the east. It spread brilliant, golden light across the lawn, making the dew sparkle. There didn’t seem to be any breeze at all. The warm, moist air smelled of flowers and grass. Birds twittered in the distance. I heard a woodpecker somewhere. Insects were humming and buzzing. It was as quiet and peaceful all around me as a forest glen.
It was lovely.
When I stepped down, the grass felt warm and wet under my bare feet. I wandered slowly, looking for bloodstains and pieces of Tony. I saw a few butterflies. And some bees. But nothing bad.
The lawn seemed fine.
I was about to take a closer look at the driveway, but heard the far off sound of a car engine. It sent a tremor through my stomach. I figured the car must be coming here. Quickly, I turned around and walked toward the front door.
The car sound grew louder.
Cops?
No way, I told myself. They couldn’t be after me. Not yet, anyway, and probably never.
What if it’s Serena and Charlie?
Maybe something had gone wrong with their trip. It hardly seemed likely. Anything was possible, though. People
do
return home unexpectedly.
I felt cold and sick inside with the idea that it might be them. I could probably hang up the sword and clear out the clothes drier in time, but what about Judy’s car in the garage?
I leaped onto the stoop, planting wet footprints on the concrete, and rushed to the front door.
The car sounded as if it had almost reached the driveway.
Brakes squeaked a bit.
I shoved open the door and ducked inside.
Before I had a chance to shut the door, though, I heard a familiar sound.
THWAP!
I’d rarely been outside at this time of the morning, but I’d sometimes heard such a sound coming through my windows above the garage.
It was the
Chester Tribune
smacking the pavement near the end of the driveway.
Standing in the doorway, I shook my head and smiled. I felt like a dope for being so scared.
After the sound of the car engine faded, I went to get the paper. On my way up the driveway, I looked again for evidence of Tony.
There was nothing.
The paper had landed on the pavement a few yards down from the top, so I didn’t need to go all the way to the road. I went the rest of the way to the top, anyhow, just to take a look around.
Everything seemed fine.
I walked back and forth on the road in front of the house, searching.
Satisfied that there was nothing to find, I returned to the driveway. On the way down, I picked up the newspaper. I peeled off its rubber band and unrolled it.
The headline read:
ALICE SOUGHT IN MURDER SPREE!
Just kidding.
I half
expected
it to say that, but it didn’t.
I don’t remember what the hell the headline was. It had nothing to do with me.
As I carried the
Tribune
down toward the house, though, it gave me an idea.
Until I’ve had a cup of hot, black coffee, I’m useless in the morning. And this qualified as morning, even though I’d never gone to bed.
