No Sanctuary (14 page)

“Are you going over the pass?” Bonnie asked.

“We might head back,” Bert told her. “I’m not feeling too swift.”

Bonnie frowned. “That’s too bad. You might just pack it in?”

“We’re considering it.”

“That’d be a shame, you came this far.”

“Sounds like a good move to me,” Andrea said. She raised one knee and folded her hands around it. Her other leg was still extended. Through the gaping leg-holes of her shorts, Rick saw her shadowed thigh. He looked away.

Bonnie had her ankles crossed.

“There are some guys up the trail,” Rick said. “You may run into them.”

“Guys?” Bonnie asked.

“Three of them,” Bert said. “They’re probably about your age.”

“Oh great,” Andrea muttered.

“What sort of guys?” Bonnie asked.

“How many kinds are there,” Andrea said.

Bonnie uncrossed her feet and swung a boot sideways as if to knock her friend in the head. She missed. “Did they seem all right?” she asked Bert.

“I guess so.”

“They’re not a contingent from Stanford,” Rick said, with a smile in Andrea’s direction. Bonnie threw him a challenging look. He could’ve been mistaken, but he thought it said, Get off my patch, master. And lay off Andrea. She’s mine.

Andrea looked up at Rick and wrinkled her nose. “They’re a contingent from like where?”

“The Youth Authority.”

“I’m gonna barf.”

“They aren’t that bad,” Bert said. “One of them did seem rather hard, but the others were okay. We had a chat with them back at our camp. They didn’t give us any trouble.”

“Sure they didn’t,” Andrea said. “You’ve got him.”

“Rick,” he told her, pleased that the girl believed his presence had prevented trouble.

“Yeah, you had Rick.”

“How far ahead are these guys?” Bonnie asked. Leaning forward, she hunched over and put her hands on her knees. The front of her blouse bunched outward. Rick saw the side of her left breast. The yellow bikini looked too small to hold it all.

“Who knows?” Bert said. “We’ve been stopping a lot. They might be half an hour up the trail, maybe farther.”

“Or they might be just around the bend,” Rick said.

“Just what we need,” Andrea muttered. “Hassled by a trio of cretinous thugs.”

“Who says they’ll hassle us?” Bonnie said.

“They’re guys, aren’t they? No offense, Rick,” she added, and grinned up at him with one side of her mouth. “I’m talking mostly your basic teenage toad. They got just one thing on their minds, and we all know what that is. Fuckywucky.”

“You’re gross,” Bonnie said.

“But perceptive.” Andrea twisted her head around and peered up at her friend. “You think these guys are gonna just ignore us, we meet up with them?”

“You can level them with your tongue.”

“Yeah, that’d be sure to save the day. Get the scrotes pissed at us.” She turned to Rick. “Maybe the four of us oughta stick together for a while. You mind us tagging along?”

“They’re leaving,” Bonnie reminded her.

“Oh, yeah. Shit soup. You guys sure about that?”

“It’s not definite,” Rick said.

Bert looked at him. “We’ll have to discuss it,” she said. “If we change our minds, we won’t be far behind you.”

“Well,” Bonnie said. “We’d better get moving.” She leaped from her perch, picked up her hat and dusted it off. “If we don’t see you again, have a good trip back.”

“Thanks,” Bert told her. “You too.”

“I was just getting comfortable,” Andrea complained, reaching behind her for the pack straps.

Bonnie lifted her pack off the trail without apparent effort, swung it onto her back, and slipped her arms through the straps.

Andrea struggled with hers. First, she clutched both straps and tried to rise from a squatting position. That didn’t work, so she lurched forward onto her hands and knees, then thrust herself up.

“So graceful,” Bonnie said.

Grimacing, Andrea rubbed her hands on her shorts. They left dust smears on the faded blue fabric. She turned her palms up. “Never gonna be clean again,” she muttered.

“The pleasures of roughing it,” Bert told her.

“Yeah. You guys really serious about leaving?”

“We’ll see,” Bert said.

Andrea grinned at her. “Want to loan us Rick for a few days? We’ll make sure we get him back to you in good condition.”

She caught Bonnie’s sour look and rolled up her eyes in a gesture of mock despair.

What’s with the attitude all the time, Bonnie? Can’t take a joke? Loosen up for godsake, we’re on vacation here.

Rick laughed. “I could go for that.”

He was joking. Almost.

Bert slapped his leg. “Sorry,” she told Andrea, “I’m afraid I can’t do without him. He’s my love-slave.”

The girls, including Bert, laughed it up.

“Real cute,” Rick said, smiling but embarrassed.

Still laughing, Bonnie and Andrea raised hands in farewell, turned away, and began striding up the trail. Rick and Bert watched until the two girls disappeared around a bend in the trail.

“Nice kids,” Bert said.

“Yeah.”

“So what about it?” she asked. “Do you still want to split?”

“I don’t know,” Rick said. “Maybe not.”

Bert looked amused.

“You have to admit, they change the picture somewhat. In terms of the guys,” he added.

“I’d say so,” Bert agreed. “Substitute victims. If the boys are so inclined. Which would let us off the hook.”

“They must be out of their gourds, coming out to a place like this. Two girls.”

“Dykes,” Bert said.

“You think so?”

She laughed. “Maybe. On the other hand, maybe not. Not fully fledged yet, anyway. Borderline in my opinion. Bonnie’s the pushy one and Andrea’s playing hard to get. But don’t quote me on that. And I don’t think they’re out of their gourds. They’re probably safer out here than they’d be on the streets of Santa Cruz.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“So what are we going to do?” Bert asked.

“I think they’re worried about running into the guys.”

“Of course they are. You made the fellows sound like escapees from a chain-gang.”

“What do you want to do?” Rick asked.

“Let’s stay. We’ll give the girls a good long lead. The guys can jump them and fuck their brains out, and be too pooped to care by the time we go by.”

“Sometimes,” Rick said, “you’re very strange.”

She contorted her face and rolled her eyes.

“Does this mean you think we should join up with them?” Rick asked.

“I’m not thrilled by the idea, but I guess it makes sense. I get my camping trip, the girls get our protection, and you get to continue drooling over a couple of nymphets young enough to be your daughters.”

“I wasn’t drooling,” Rick protested. “And I’m not that old.” She arched an eyebrow.

Rick grinned. “Maybe we’d better forget it. I just might lose control and go for them.”

“I’m worried.”

“Obviously.”

“You get the urge, buddy, just remember something.”

“What?”

Smiling, Bert gently squeezed him through the front of his pants. “They ain’t me.” She let go and patted his leg. “Come on, we’d better catch up with the children.”

Jerry Dobbs was smiling at Gillian over the top of the fence. “Sorry,” he said. “Did I startle you?”

“That’s all right.” The jolt of alarm she’d felt at first hearing his voice faded, but her heart still raced from the shock of it. She managed a smile.

“A little warm today for the hot tub, don’t you think? How about coming over here and joining me in the pool? I was just about to go in myself.”

Gillian, surprised and delighted by the offer, didn’t hesitate. “That sounds great.”

“Come around to my driveway, I’ll open the gate for you.”

“Be right there,” she said.

His face disappeared, and Gillian went into the house.

She knew she was breaking her rule against fraternizing with neighbors, but she didn’t care. Ever since meeting Jerry so briefly last night, she’d hoped to see more of him. He must’ve felt drawn to her, also. A guy doesn’t invite just anyone over to use his pool.

I’ll have to watch what I say to him, she cautioned herself.

Wouldn’t do, at all, to slip up and let him find out I’m not Fredrick’s niece.

Fredrick, the sicko.

The house, though pleasantly cool after the heat outside, seemed forbidding to Gillian as she hurried toward the bedroom.

She dreaded the thought of spending another night in it.

I won’t, she told herself. After I leave Jerry’s, I’ll pack up and get out of here.

In the bedroom, she set her beer bottle on the dresser and slipped into sandals. She turned to the wall of mirrors. And shook her head in dismay. The bikini was little more than cords that tied at her hips and behind her back and neck. Strung from the cords were flimsy, meager swatches of snug white fabric. Gillian felt naked. This was an outfit for wearing in private, not in front of strangers. She had a modest onepiece swimsuit for beaches and pools, but it was back in her apartment; she hadn’t foreseen any need to bring it along.

That’s because you don’t go swimming with neighbors, she thought. Right.

She considered changing into shorts and a T-shirt.

He already saw me in this. He’d think I’m nuts.

With a sigh, she put on her shirt as a cover-up. The shirt was long enough to drape the scanty bottom of her bikini. She buttoned it, brushed her short hair, then picked up her beer bottle and headed for the front door.

She removed the burglar bar. Having no key, she left the door unlocked.

She walked across Jerry’s yard and found him waiting at the open gate of his driveway. He was lean and dark. Instead of trunks, he wore an old pair of tan corduroys with the legs cut off.

“Glad you could come over,” he said.

“Who could refuse a swimming pool on a day like thins?”

He shut the gate. Gillian walked with him toward the rear.

“Enjoying the house-sitting?” he asked.

“It sure beats staying in my little apartment.”

“Does your apartment have a pool?”

Gillian nodded. “I never use it, though. There could be thirty people watching you from their windows. Not to mention an assorted variety of tenants who might decide to join in the fun.”

“Yeah. Know just what you mean.”

His pool was shimmering and clear, its surface flat in the still afternoon.

“Feel free to dive in,” Jerry said. “I think I’ll get myself a beer. Could you use another?”

Gillian squinted at her bottle. It was half-empty. “Sure, why not?”

She sat at the table under the shade of its broad umbrella while Jerry went into the house. She sipped her beer. Her hand trembled slightly and she felt her heart thumping. She looked at the house. From the rear, it seemed similar to Fredrick’s.

Bet it doesn’t come with a collection of sick magazines, she thought.

Or mirrors on the ceiling.

Not that I’d mind the mirrors.

She wished her heart would slow down.

Take it easy, she told herself. Relax.

The rear door slid open and Jerry came out with a bottle of beer in each hand. He sat at the table. He pushed a bottle across to her.

“Beck’s,” Gillian said, reading the label. “I like it.”

“What’s that you’re drinking?”

She slid the bottle toward him. “Corona. Have some. It’s okay, I don’t have any diseases.” As the words came out, she felt herself blush. That’s certainly laying the cards on the table, she thought.

Jerry drank from her bottle and nodded. “I’ll have to pick up some of this stuff.” He passed it back to her.

She drank the rest of it. “Uncle Fredrick has good taste in beer,” she said. “I can’t say the same for his taste in reading matter.”

“Oh?”

Careful, she thought. “He seems to go in for some pretty gruesome stuffy.”

“I guess we all have our quirks.”

“Does he seem all right to you?”

Jerry shrugged. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I really don’t know the man at all. I’ve said hi to him a couple of times when we’ve crossed paths, but that’s about the extent of it. He keeps to himself pretty much. So do I. Comes from all those years of apartment living, I think. The less I see of my neighbors, the better.”

“That’s why you poked your head over the fence and asked me over,” Gillian said, smiling.

He laughed. “That’s different.” He took a drink of beer and flinched slightly as the bottle dripped water onto his chest. Gillian watched the clear bead trickle down his skin, leaving a shiny trail. He smeared it with the flat of his hand.

“Are you on vacation?” he asked.

“Me? I’m on permanent vacation,” Gillian said. “I don’t do much in the way of work.”

“How nice for you. Wealthy family?”

“Dead family.”

His eyes widened.

Gillian felt a little shocked herself. Why am I telling him the truth about my family? she wondered. Would’ve been easier to lie. She always lied about her background.

“I shouldn’t be flippant about it. I’m sorry. But it’s been a few years and I usually don’t ... I usually just make up a story. The fact is, my parents were killed in a traffic accident. A deputy sheriff’s car lost its brakes while it was in hot pursuit of a robbery suspect and smashed into them. My parents’ attorney filed a wrongful-death suit on my behalf, and it was settled for a good sum. I’m pretty well. set up.” Gillian shrugged.

“I’m sorry about your folks.”

“Well, thanks. What is it that you do?”

“I design computer programs.”

“Ah, you must be a brain.”

“That’s me.” He laughed and took a drink of beer.

“What kind of programs?”

“I specialize in weapons systems.”

“You mean like for missiles?”

“Something like that.”

“Yikes. Guess I’d better stop asking questions or you’ll put the FBI on me.”

“That’s right.” He set down his bottle. “Well, ’m about ready to go in for a dip. How about you?”

“Sure.” Gillian lingered at the table, taking another sip of beer while Jerry rose from his seat. He hitched up his shorts and turned toward the pool. Gillian pushed her chair back. He looked around at her. “You don’t have to wait for me,” she said, and crossed a foot over her knee to remove a sandal. Nodding, Jerry headed for the deep end of the pool. Gillian slipped off her other sandal and stood up. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt. As Jerry dove, she took it off. She draped it over the chair and stepped quickly to the pool, watching him skim beneath the surface to the opposite side. He was just coming up for air when she leaped. She hit the water in a shallow dive. For an instant, the chill was an agony. Then it felt good as she glided along through the silence. Her fingers touched the tile wall. She bobbed to the surface and stood. The water covered her to the shoulders.