Dark Mountain

by Richard Laymon

  “Me, I guess. Maybe you, too.”

  She braced herself up on her elbows. “Go on.”

  “Well…about Karen’s suit. When I was looking at her? You won’t believe this but I was imagining how it would look on you.”

  “You’re kidding,” Julie said. Her voice came out in a whisper. Her heart was thundering, and she was short of breath. She sat up straight to breathe better.

  “I’m not kidding,” Nick said. “I mean, it’s nothing against your bikini. I just, uh, tried to picture how you’d look in…I told you it’d be embarrassing.”

  “A little bit,” she admitted.

  He leaned forward, put his hands on his knees, and hung his head. “I guess I’m kind of a lech.”

  “I guess you are,” Julie said. For the first time, she noticed the sounds of distant laughter and splashing. An outcropping of rock, however, blocked her view of those in the lake. She put a hand on Nick’s back. He flinched slightly, startled by her touch, and looked into her eyes. For a long time, while her hand moved slowly up and down, they gazed at each other. His eyes lingered on hers, studied every part of her face, followed the curve of her neck, glanced at her breasts, and returned quickly to her eyes as if asking permission. A slight smile trembled on Julie’s lips. Twisting herself sideways, she reached out and took hold of his far shoulder. She leaned toward Nick as she turned him. She held him motionless, and he stared down, his gaze roaming from one breast to the other. He looked again into her eyes. He reached under her outstretched arm, lay his hand against her back, and eased her closer. His other arm went around her. He turned her some more. Julie felt herself start to tip. Nick’s eyes widened with alarm. Then he was flat on his back, still holding her. She lay across his chest. “Woops,” she said.

  For a moment, he looked as if he might laugh. Then his face went serious. “Julie,” he whispered.

  She kissed him gently, briefly on the mouth. “We’d better get back in the lake,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he said. But when Julie tried to push herself up, he held onto her. “One more?”

  “One more.”

  This time, his hand went behind her head. His fingers thrust into her hair and he pressed her close, kissing her again and again, his lips firm and warm and urgent, as if he had needed to kiss her for a long time and feared he would never get another chance.

  Julie mashed her lips against his. She wanted it never to end, but there were those in the lake who might see them. So she turned her face. Nick kissed her cheek, her ear. “We’ve gotta stop,” she gasped.

  “Okay.” His hand slid out of her hair.

  She raised her head. Nick’s face was beaded with sweat, his eyes somewhat vague, as if he were in a daze.

  “Well,” she said.

  “Yeah.” His arms fell away from her.

  She pushed herself up. Nick lay spread-eagled at her knees, his skin glossy with water and sweat, his chest heaving. His damp, clinging shorts bulged as if he’d slid a length of pipe down the front. A thick pipe. A long one. If it were any bigger, Julie thought, it would push right up under the elastic waistband and…

  “Take a picture,” he said. “It lasts longer.”

  Julie grinned down at him. Nick grinned up at her.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go swimming.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I gotta pee, Ettie. Let me go out. I won’t do nothing.”

  She shook her head. “Any business you got, you just do it right here. You can’t go out till they’re gone.”

  “How you know they’re still here?”

  “Folks don’t put their tents up and move on in an hour. They’re staying the night. And you’re staying right where you are.”

  “I gotta pee,” he whined.

  “Use a pot.”

  “You’re here.”

  “Hon, you got nothing I ain’t seen before. I’m the gal used to change your diapers.”

  “Let me go out. Please.”

  Ettie pushed herself away from the gap in the wall, crawled forward to the candle between their sleeping bags, and blew it out. The cave went black. “There. Now you don’t gotta be shy.” She backed up quickly to block the opening. “Go on ahead, Merle.”

  Though her eyes were open, she could see nothing. She heard him sigh, then the soft hiss of fabric as he made his way along the sleeping bag. A match snicked and flared. Merle, kneeling at the far end of the chamber, was tossing around clothes and plastic packs of food to get at the cooking utensils. With a scrape and clatter, he pulled out a small saucepan. He waved it. “This okay?”

  “Just fine,” Ettie said.

  He shook out his match.

  “I’ll dump it when you’re done.”

  “You said we have to stay here.”

  “I can go out. You’re the one goes around offering folks down for no good reason.”

  “He told me to.”

  “Horse shit.” She heard Merle’s zipper slide down. “Careful you don’t miss,” she said. “Hold it up good and close.”

  “Don’t know why I can’t go out,” he muttered as his stream started hitting the aluminum. “I wouldn’t do nothing. You just don’t trust me, that’s all. I’d leave ’em alone.” He was talking fast, as if trying to cover the other sound. “I just wanta see ’em, that’s all. What’m I gonna try with three men down there? Think I’m a fool? Don’t see why we can’t both go out, and you keep an eye on me if you think I’m so crazy. I just wanta see ’em, that’s all.” The splashing stopped.

  Ettie waited until she heard his zipper, then crawled forward and lit the candle. Merle scowled at her as she picked up the pan. “I’ll be right outside,” she said. “You just stay put, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

  She backed away on her knees, then got to her feet and squeezed through the crevice, the back of her thick parka whispering against the rock. Outside, she crouched low to empty the pan. She set it down and stood up straight, stretching her stiff muscles.

  In spite of the cold wind blowing through her dress, Ettie was glad to be out of the cave. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her parka, and leaned back to block the narrow entrance.

  The night was very dark, as if a heavy blanket had been spread across the sky to hide the moon and stars. The only light came from the campfire down by the lake. It fluttered, yellow-orange, and cast a glowing aura that shimmered on the campers seated at its far side. Those on the near side of the fire were black silhouettes.

  Staring at them, Ettie felt herself knot up inside. She groaned, and pushed her fists against her belly. If the blood signs had been right…Maybe she’d read them wrong. She could’ve missed something, reading them by match light.

  They showed Merle dead. They showed her dead. Killed by some of the folks sitting down there so peacefully around the campfire.

  These things are never certain, though. Even if you read the signs right, there’s always a little room for doubt, so you take precautions and don’t give up hope. If it weren’t for that, there’d be no point in hiding away.

  Always a chance, at least, that things won’t turn out the way the blood signs say. A small chance.

  She might go ahead and try throwing a spell to shield her and Merle. She’d given a lot of thought to that, while waiting in the cave, but it hadn’t seemed too practical. She was sure the Master sent these folks as punishment, so He wouldn’t let her magic work anyway. But what if He didn’t send them? He did give a warning in the blood signs. Why warn her if he meant the folks to kill them? Just to torment her?

  Maybe they weren’t out of favor after all, and a spell would do the trick. Sure worth a try.

  Ettie picked up the saucepan. She turned it over and gave it a few hard shakes. Then, with a last look at the figures huddled around the distant fire, she entered the crevice. She sidestepped, squeezing through the tight gap. “Merle,” she said, “we’re gonna cast a Spell of Obscurity over us.” He didn’t answer.


  She was near the chamber now and expected to see a fluttering glow of candlelight. The area ahead was black. “Merle, what happened to the candle?” He still didn’t answer. Ettie’s heart started thudding.

  “You answer me, Merle. None of your foolishness.”

  The walls no longer pressed against her. She tossed the pan forward. It landed with a soft whup on one of the sleeping bags. Her hands free, she dug into a pocket and pulled out a book of matches. Her left ankle was grabbed and jerked sideways. She pitched forward, falling through the darkness. Her parka and a sleeping bag cushioned her impact. As she started to rise, a body dropped onto her back and drove her down. “Merle!” Cold fingers dug into the sides of her neck, squeezed. “No!” she cried out.

  She reached up, clutched the wrists, struggled to tear the hands away. Merle was too strong. Her ears were ringing. The blackness in front of her eyes glowed red.

  Later, she woke up.

  Her head was throbbing with pain. She was lying on her side. When she tried to move, Ettie realized that she was bound with rope—wrists tied behind her back, legs bent at the knees, ankles lashed tight. She attempted to straighten her legs, but her wrists were tugged down as her feet moved.

  “Merle?” she asked.

  She heard only her own breathing and heartbeat, and the moan of the wind outside.

  “Merle, are you here?”

  A stupid question, she thought. Of course he’s not here. He’s gone after the women.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Flash blew steam away, and took a sip of his coffee. Across the fire, Benny leaned forward with a demented look on his face as he continued his poem:

  “And I cried, ‘It was surely October/on this very night of last year/That I journeyed—I journeyed down here/That I brought a dread burden down here/On this night of all nights in the year,/Ah, what demon has tempted me here?’” His glasses reflected the firelight, hiding his eyes behind leaping flames. “‘Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber—/This misty mid region of Weir—/Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber/This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.’” He leaned back, took a deep breath, and smiled.

  Heather, who’d been gazing spellbound, started to clap. The others joined in. “Terrific,” Karen said. Flash clamped his hot mug between his knees, and applauded.

  “Did you learn that for school?” Karen asked.

  “No, just for myself.”

  She shook her head as if amazed, and Benny swelled up with pride.

  “Sure was a creepy poem,” Nick said.

  Julie turned to Nick, hunched her shoulders, and contorted her face. In a low, moany voice, she said, “‘The ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.’”

  Nick made himself look frightened. “Yeeeeahh!” he cried, and covered his face.

  “Why is it,” Alice said, “that we insist on trying to frighten ourselves? Why doesn’t somebody say a nice poem?”

  Flash grinned. “Nymphomaniacal Jill used dynamite to get her thrill—”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Gross,” Rose said.

  Flash peered at his daughter, surprised.

  “Why don’t I start a story,” Alice suggested, “and we’ll go around the campfire and everybody add onto it?”

  “Bleah,” Rose said.

  Nick nodded. “That’s a drag, Mom.”

  “Why don’t we give it a try?” Karen said. “Might be fun.”

  Scott nodded. “Sure. Go ahead, Alice.”

  Alice looked grateful for their approval. “All right,” she said. “Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden who lived in the woods, all alone except for…” Pausing, she turned her head toward Rose.

  “Mick Jagger,” Rose said.

  She got plenty of laughs except from Alice. “Be serious.”

  Rose sighed. “Okay. Except for her mean mother.”

  Alice rolled her eyes up, and Flash took a drink of coffee to hide his grin.

  “One day, the maiden got so tired of her mother always spoiling her fun that she ran off into the woods and met…” She turned to Heather.

  Heather looked across the fire at Benny as if asking for help. With a shrug, she said, “And met a…gee, I don’t know.”

  “The gee-I-don’t-know,” Nick continued, “was an ugly, hairy thing with one eye where its nose should’ve been…”

  “And two noses,” Julie added, “where its eyes should’ve been. The noses were upside down, so it wore a big cowboy hat to keep itself from drowning during rainstorms. Whenever it sneezed, it blew its hat off.” She turned to Benny, who stared at her as if she were crazy.

  “When the maiden found the gee-what ever-it-is,” he said, “it was crawling around looking for its contact lens. She helped it, and finally they found the lens.” Shrugging, he looked at Karen.

  “With the contact lens back in its eye, the gee-I-don’t-know stared at the maiden. She was the most beautiful creature it had ever seen. ‘Gee, you’re purty,’ it said.” She grinned at Scott.

  “The maiden blushed,” he went on. “‘You’re not too shabby yourself,’ she said. ‘And with those two noses, I bet you smell a lot better than me.’” He raised his eyebrows at Flash.

  “So the gee-I-don’t-know picked up the fair maiden and carried her deep into the woods. They came to his hut, and went at it hot and heavy.”

  “Dad,” Rose muttered.

  “Before you know it,” he continued, “the little hut was crowded with little gee-I-don’t-knows, so they packed up and moved to a condo in Palm Springs and lived happily ever after.”

  “What a dumb story,” Rose muttered.

  “I thought it was kind of cute,” Karen said.

  “Why don’t you tell a story?” Benny asked her. “Do you know another scary one like ‘Doreen and Audrey’?”

  “Afraid not. That was my entire repertoire.”

  “How about you, Dad?” Julie asked.

  “My last one didn’t go over too well.”

  Julie wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, that’s right. Forget I asked.”

  “I’ve got one,” Flash said.

  Alice raised an eyebrow. “Is it clean?”

  “Sure.”

  “Go on,” Nick said. “Let’s hear it.”

  Flash finished his coffee, and set the aluminum cup on the ground between his boots. “Maybe I’d better not,” he said. “Your mother has this thing about creepy stories.”

  “Don’t make me the villain,” she protested. “If you think the story’s appropriate, go ahead and tell it.”

  He grinned. “Well, if you insist.” Reaching inside his jacket, he took a cigar from his shirt pocket. He tore off the cellophane wrapper, crinkled it into a ball, and tossed it into the fire. “This happened to me a long time ago, back when I was in high school.”

  “The Dark Ages,” Nick said.

  “Right.” Clamping the cigar in his teeth, he lifted a twig from the fire. With one hand shielding the small flame from the wind, he lit up. “My dad, my brother, Cliff, and I were on a fishing trip up around Land O’Lakes, Wisconsin. We’d heard about a string of ax murders in the area. Seems some lunatic was running around giving the whack to folks he found in the woods. They called him the Chopper. Maybe a frustrated tree surgeon.” Flash grinned at his joke, and stared at the glowing tip of his cigar. “There were four or five bodies they found in the woods. All of ’em were dismembered. Some had arms cut off. Some were missing a leg. Two of ’em were beheaded.”

  “Arnold,” Alice said in a warning voice.

  “You said I could tell it.”

  “I imagined you’d use some discretion.”

  “Want me to stop?”

  “Keep going,” Nick said. “It’s neat.”

  Alice sighed. “Just tone it down, all right? There are children present.”

  “Tone it down, okay. Now, where was I?” He sucked in some smoke, let it drift out of his nostrils. The wind whipped it away. “Oh, yeah. So the Chopper was on the loose, and they’d found some of his
handiwork in the woods, but there were a few other folks who’d just disappeared, so they figured the body count would get even higher. We were a little jumpy, camping out in the neighborhood. Dad was packing a .22 revolver, though, so we figured we’d waste the sucker if he showed himself.

  “I tell you, though, we didn’t get much sleep that first night. We were the only campers on the lake. It was mighty dark and silent. Every now and then, we’d hear a rustle in the bushes. Me and Cliff were sure it was the Chopper sneaking in close. I tell you, that was one of the longest nights I ever spent. Before the war anyway,” he added, and felt his chest tighten as he saw himself cowering in the jungle.

  “Did he get you?” Scott asked.

  “Huh? No. No, we made it through the night okay.” Flash took a deep breath. “We spent the next day on the lake. Rowing around and fishing. It was sunny and hot. Real nice. Dragonflies, loons cackling. Real pleasant. And we had a lot of luck, fishing. Brought in a whole string of bluegill and sunfish, a couple of bullheads. We fried them up for dinner, and had a real feast. Then we went out in the rowboat again for some night fishing.

  “I guess we were all glad to be on the lake after dark. Out there, we didn’t have to worry about the Chopper. My God, it was nice out there. Warm, just a little breeze. The moonlight looked like silver on the water. There were lightning bugs. We were all greased up and stinky with 6-12, to keep the mosquitoes off.” He sighed. “Anyway, we were drifting near the north end of the lake, maybe fifty yards from shore, when I felt a sudden tug on my line. Man, I was excited! I started reeling in, thinking I’d hooked a real whopper. Felt heavy, you know? My rod was bent almost double. But I started to wonder, because I wasn’t getting any play. You know how you can usually feel the fish flipping around down there? Well, this one didn’t seem to be moving at all. Just a dead weight.

  “Cliff shined his flashlight on the lake where my line was in. The beam only went in a little way. I remember how dirty the water looked. Like it was full of dust, or something. Then, as I cranked the reel, this pale hand came up like there was somebody reaching for the light. I tell you, I damn near croaked. But I kept reeling in, and Cliff held the flashlight steady, and a second later I had a severed arm swinging from the end of my rod. It was cut off at the elbow. My hook was in its wrist. We all just stared at the thing. It hung there, dripping and swaying.”