Read Online After Midnight by Richard Laymon - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Laymon
Tags: Fiction / Horror
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dismembered body in the trunk.
Just drive and drive along the empty country roads in the moonlight, smelling the smells of the night, feeling the soft rush of the wind. Just roam with nowhere to go. And with nothing to give me that tingly little scared feeling deep down inside.
Of course, maybe the scared feeling gave the trip a little extra flavor.
It’s hard to tell the difference, sometimes, between fear and excitement.
Anyway, the good part of the trip only lasted a few minutes. Coming to the town limits, I had to slow down and put the headlights on. Then I headed for Little Oak Lane, which I figured was in the newer residential area on the other side of town.
If I hadn’t been in Tony’s car (with him in the trunk), I probably would’ve made a straight shot through the middle of downtown on Central Street. I like to call it “the scenic tour,” because there’s nothing worth seeing in downtown Chester. (Not the town’s real name. I’ve dubbed it Chester in honor of Chester from Gunsmoke —because it’s a really lame town that just limps along.)
Downtown Chester fills both sides of Central Street for five blocks. And that’s about it. The street gets pretty crowded during the day, though I can’t imagine why. Maybe it’s people looking to buy discount lamps or old-lady shoes. For any serious shopping, you go elsewhere. Like to the Ralph’s supermarket or the mall or the Wal-Mart or Home Depot—none of which is anywhere near Chester’s business district.
When I came to Central, I slowed down and looked. The street was well lighted, and almost empty. But not empty enough. A couple of drinking establishments must’ve still been open. I spotted about a dozen parked cars, two or three people roaming around, and even one car heading toward me.
So I got away from Central and drove an extra block before turning.
On this road, nothing was open. I saw nobody milling about. No cars were coming, either. I glimpsed some activity when I looked down sidestreets, but nothing to worry me.
I only had two real concerns about the drive. First, that somebody would recognize Tony’s car and remember that it was on the move that night. Second, that I might be seen behind the wheel.
Neither problem was likely to arise unless somebody got pretty close to us.
Which never happened, as far as I could tell.
I did take detours, a couple of times, to avoid approaching vehicles. Once, I even pulled to the curb, shut off the engine and headlights, and ducked until a car’d gone by. Later, driving past a jogger, I turned my head aside so he wouldn’t be able to see my face.
I also had to wait at an intersection for an old bum lady to push her shopping cart across the street in front of me. Normally, a person like that would’ve given me the creeps.
But she didn’t spook me at all.
I just worried that she might get a good look at me. Hunched over her shopping cart, though, she never glanced in my direction.
Soon after she’d gone by, I came to Little Oak Lane. Stopping under a street light, I pulled the slip of paper out of Tony’s wallet and checked the address.
645 Little Oak Lane, Apt. 12.
It was only a block away.
A two-story, stucco apartment house with a subterranean parking lot.
Near the entrance, a driveway swooped into the lot.
Rolling slowly past it, I glanced down the concrete ramp.
Awfully well-lighted down there.
The little tremor in my belly grew large.
I drove around the block to give myself time to think. On the one hand, the building’s lot seemed like the perfect place to drop off Tony’s car. He probably had an assigned parking space in there.
Where better to leave his car than precisely where it should be?
Seeing it there in the morning, who would ever guess he’d gone somewhere in the middle of the night and gotten himself killed?
And his body might not be discovered for days.
On the other hand, someone might enter the parking lot and see me.
Which would screw up
Just drive and drive along the empty country roads in the moonlight, smelling the smells of the night, feeling the soft rush of the wind. Just roam with nowhere to go. And with nothing to give me that tingly little scared feeling deep down inside.
Of course, maybe the scared feeling gave the trip a little extra flavor.
It’s hard to tell the difference, sometimes, between fear and excitement.
Anyway, the good part of the trip only lasted a few minutes. Coming to the town limits, I had to slow down and put the headlights on. Then I headed for Little Oak Lane, which I figured was in the newer residential area on the other side of town.
If I hadn’t been in Tony’s car (with him in the trunk), I probably would’ve made a straight shot through the middle of downtown on Central Street. I like to call it “the scenic tour,” because there’s nothing worth seeing in downtown Chester. (Not the town’s real name. I’ve dubbed it Chester in honor of Chester from Gunsmoke —because it’s a really lame town that just limps along.)
Downtown Chester fills both sides of Central Street for five blocks. And that’s about it. The street gets pretty crowded during the day, though I can’t imagine why. Maybe it’s people looking to buy discount lamps or old-lady shoes. For any serious shopping, you go elsewhere. Like to the Ralph’s supermarket or the mall or the Wal-Mart or Home Depot—none of which is anywhere near Chester’s business district.
When I came to Central, I slowed down and looked. The street was well lighted, and almost empty. But not empty enough. A couple of drinking establishments must’ve still been open. I spotted about a dozen parked cars, two or three people roaming around, and even one car heading toward me.
So I got away from Central and drove an extra block before turning.
On this road, nothing was open. I saw nobody milling about. No cars were coming, either. I glimpsed some activity when I looked down sidestreets, but nothing to worry me.
I only had two real concerns about the drive. First, that somebody would recognize Tony’s car and remember that it was on the move that night. Second, that I might be seen behind the wheel.
Neither problem was likely to arise unless somebody got pretty close to us.
Which never happened, as far as I could tell.
I did take detours, a couple of times, to avoid approaching vehicles. Once, I even pulled to the curb, shut off the engine and headlights, and ducked until a car’d gone by. Later, driving past a jogger, I turned my head aside so he wouldn’t be able to see my face.
I also had to wait at an intersection for an old bum lady to push her shopping cart across the street in front of me. Normally, a person like that would’ve given me the creeps.
But she didn’t spook me at all.
I just worried that she might get a good look at me. Hunched over her shopping cart, though, she never glanced in my direction.
Soon after she’d gone by, I came to Little Oak Lane. Stopping under a street light, I pulled the slip of paper out of Tony’s wallet and checked the address.
645 Little Oak Lane, Apt. 12.
It was only a block away.
A two-story, stucco apartment house with a subterranean parking lot.
Near the entrance, a driveway swooped into the lot.
Rolling slowly past it, I glanced down the concrete ramp.
Awfully well-lighted down there.
The little tremor in my belly grew large.
I drove around the block to give myself time to think. On the one hand, the building’s lot seemed like the perfect place to drop off Tony’s car. He probably had an assigned parking space in there.
Where better to leave his car than precisely where it should be?
Seeing it there in the morning, who would ever guess he’d gone somewhere in the middle of the night and gotten himself killed?
And his body might not be discovered for days.
On the other hand, someone might enter the parking lot and see me.
Which would screw up
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