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Authors: Richard Laymon
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Chapter Eight
He blamed me. Mitchell, that is. It was just after the girl and the kid got away from us. I’d gotten a hold of the girl’s leg when she was trying to go over the wall, but she broke loose. That’s when my troubles really got started last night, so that’s where I might as well start this off.
It was my fault. I should’ve had her. What messed things up was that I had a hand way up high on her leg, and she wasn’t wearing any panties. All she had on was this red nightie that was like a really big T-shirt. I got distracted, so then it took me by surprise when her leg suddenly kicked back. I lost hold of her ankle, and my other hand got mashed between her leg and the wall. So I lost her.
It beat up my hand pretty good, by the way. Raked skin off the backs of my fingers and knuckles. I even bled, but not much.
Anyway, I lost her. I should’ve had her twice last night, when it comes right down to it. The first time was in the front yard of the old bag’s house—the house she and the kid finally got into. She’d tried to make a turn, but didn’t slow down enough and ended up taking a slide across the grass instead. Which gave me the chance to catch her. I did, too. She tried to get up and get away from me, but I yanked her down by her hair.
I had her flat on her back. Her nightie’d gotten shoved up, so it was rumpled around her chest. I couldn’t see her tits, but the rest of her was all laid out in front of me. That’s when I first saw she didn’t have any panties on. She was real slim, but not skin and bones. Her skin looked smooth and nice. She didn’t look like she had any muff at all, not till I was on my knees by her head, and then I could see how she had some hair, but it was so fine and wispy that you could look right through it.
I held her down on the ground by her head hair. What I wanted to do more than anything was ... a lot of stuff. For one, I wanted to give her a feel. I wanted to run my hands all over her. I wanted to get that nightie off her, too. And believe it or not, I wanted to take a good look at her face. I’d only caught a glimpse of it, and the light hadn’t been any good, but what I’d seen gave me the idea that she had a real knockout of a face.
Anyway, those are things I wanted to do. I knew better, though. She wasn’t here for me to play with, she was here for me to kill. And the quicker, the better. No time to enjoy her, just get it done. So I didn’t touch her except to hold her down on the ground by the hair while I went for my knife.
Before 1 could pull my knife, she clobbered me with her fucking baseball bat. It wasn’t hard enough to knock me out, but hard enough to hurt like hell. I couldn’t help but let go of her.
That’s how she got away the first time.
The second time was when she was on the wall and I had her by the leg.
It was my fault that she got away both times.
When I lost her at the wall, Mitchell said, “Damn it!”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. I jumped and boosted myself up. From up there, I saw what was on the other side—namely, a very steep slope—and that’s when I knew we were in for real trouble. I jumped back down and shook my head at Mitchell.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“It’s a big drop-off back there. They’re probably still falling.”
“A cliff?”
“More like a hillside.”
“The fall gonna kill ’em?”
“I doubt it.”
“Shit.”
“We can’t go down there, Mitch.”
“Can’t let ’em get away.”
“I know, I know,” I said.
That’s when he told me to stay behind. He and the rest of the guys, he said, would take care of the exit routine: loading up the bodies and torching the houses and hitting the road. I should stay here to kill the girl and the kid.
For about half a second, the idea excited me. Without the others in my way, I’d be able to do everything I wanted with the girl.
Then the other half of the second hit and gave me an idea I
Chapter Eight
He blamed me. Mitchell, that is. It was just after the girl and the kid got away from us. I’d gotten a hold of the girl’s leg when she was trying to go over the wall, but she broke loose. That’s when my troubles really got started last night, so that’s where I might as well start this off.
It was my fault. I should’ve had her. What messed things up was that I had a hand way up high on her leg, and she wasn’t wearing any panties. All she had on was this red nightie that was like a really big T-shirt. I got distracted, so then it took me by surprise when her leg suddenly kicked back. I lost hold of her ankle, and my other hand got mashed between her leg and the wall. So I lost her.
It beat up my hand pretty good, by the way. Raked skin off the backs of my fingers and knuckles. I even bled, but not much.
Anyway, I lost her. I should’ve had her twice last night, when it comes right down to it. The first time was in the front yard of the old bag’s house—the house she and the kid finally got into. She’d tried to make a turn, but didn’t slow down enough and ended up taking a slide across the grass instead. Which gave me the chance to catch her. I did, too. She tried to get up and get away from me, but I yanked her down by her hair.
I had her flat on her back. Her nightie’d gotten shoved up, so it was rumpled around her chest. I couldn’t see her tits, but the rest of her was all laid out in front of me. That’s when I first saw she didn’t have any panties on. She was real slim, but not skin and bones. Her skin looked smooth and nice. She didn’t look like she had any muff at all, not till I was on my knees by her head, and then I could see how she had some hair, but it was so fine and wispy that you could look right through it.
I held her down on the ground by her head hair. What I wanted to do more than anything was ... a lot of stuff. For one, I wanted to give her a feel. I wanted to run my hands all over her. I wanted to get that nightie off her, too. And believe it or not, I wanted to take a good look at her face. I’d only caught a glimpse of it, and the light hadn’t been any good, but what I’d seen gave me the idea that she had a real knockout of a face.
Anyway, those are things I wanted to do. I knew better, though. She wasn’t here for me to play with, she was here for me to kill. And the quicker, the better. No time to enjoy her, just get it done. So I didn’t touch her except to hold her down on the ground by the hair while I went for my knife.
Before 1 could pull my knife, she clobbered me with her fucking baseball bat. It wasn’t hard enough to knock me out, but hard enough to hurt like hell. I couldn’t help but let go of her.
That’s how she got away the first time.
The second time was when she was on the wall and I had her by the leg.
It was my fault that she got away both times.
When I lost her at the wall, Mitchell said, “Damn it!”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. I jumped and boosted myself up. From up there, I saw what was on the other side—namely, a very steep slope—and that’s when I knew we were in for real trouble. I jumped back down and shook my head at Mitchell.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“It’s a big drop-off back there. They’re probably still falling.”
“A cliff?”
“More like a hillside.”
“The fall gonna kill ’em?”
“I doubt it.”
“Shit.”
“We can’t go down there, Mitch.”
“Can’t let ’em get away.”
“I know, I know,” I said.
That’s when he told me to stay behind. He and the rest of the guys, he said, would take care of the exit routine: loading up the bodies and torching the houses and hitting the road. I should stay here to kill the girl and the kid.
For about half a second, the idea excited me. Without the others in my way, I’d be able to do everything I wanted with the girl.
Then the other half of the second hit and gave me an idea I
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