Tell Laura I'm Back

by Mark Edwards

  “Don't worry, Tiffany.”

  I looked on at him, puzzled. I moved my eyeballs around, looking for his switchblade. Where did it disappear to, so fast?

  “Come with me,” he pulled.

  “Where we going?”

  “How about doing it in the open air?” he persuaded.

  The tiny dose of apprehension that was left within withered away, thanks to a smile, the winning type that made you want to be with him. And of course, open air did sound like fun. It was my night for adventure.

  He did provide a shield while we exited the lounge, walking past Justin, my date for the night. I couldn't have explained this to Justin; he just wouldn't understand. I didn't either.

  Sorry about this, Justin. Terribly Sorry.

  He opened up the door of his bright red station wagon for me, being a gentleman, I would imagine, despite the very harsh qualities he displayed back there. I don't know – I was kind of expecting a fine-looking bloke like him to be flaunting a younger car than this. Jeez, what he doing in this 'soccer mom's type of car – a mid 80s merc? I stood there, with my arms folded, thinking about Justin's quatro. The only thing both cars had in common was the bright red paint, nothing else.

  “You'll like it, Tiffany.” He pushed his hair behind his large ears.

  I began weighing my mind but the scent of the old dark leathers of its interior was so inviting.

  The seats were nice too, comfy, for a car of its age.

  “Told you you'd like it in here,” he smirked. He switched the key on; that thing roared like a beast.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “Enjoy the ride.” I suddenly heard the click of the burly central locks.

  The G-Force from its acceleration sent my back slamming against the leather seats and that was when I noticed the scratches on his neck.

  “Who are you?”

  “Thought I told you, Tiffany.”

  “No, you didn't.”

  He flicked the lever of the indicator; the green flickering arrow in the black dash pointed left.

  “Maybe I should be getting out of your car.”

  “Maybe you won't,” he answered, without even giving me the privilege of a glance.

  “Shit.”

  SIX

  ______________________________

  I pulled on the chrome door latch and nothing happened. What's this?

  "I should be getting back to the lounge; I've actually left my boyfriend back there."

  "Now, that's not a nice thing to do, eh"

  "But..."

  "Minutes ago, you pulled me towards you by my tie, choking a kiss out. Geez. what's wrong with you women?"

  "Don't remind me," I muttered, arms folded.

  There had to be some freaking way out of this.

  "Stop-the-car," I fumed, my words leaving my pouted lips assertively slow. I really wanted him to know I wasn't in the silly game anymore.

  He floored the accelerator pedal, making the engine sing a pitch higher. I could feel it; the back of my head slammed towards my headrest. That would have been some nasty blow had it not been for my head of golden hair. He kept looking through his windows and keeping his rear view mirror in check, figuring where he would stop and then do whatever he wanted with me, perhaps.

  "You heard me, right?"

  "Enjoy the ride; you've bought your ticket."

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "Don't worry about it, Tiffany."

  My head suddenly thrust forward; must have been the way he slammed on the brakes, without warning. The clip clop of the central locks was all the signal I needed. I swiftly pulled the latch, popping the door wide open. I alighted from his car without permission. I made my way into the dark, though uninviting it appeared.

  "Where you think ya going?"

  I continued on, trying desperately to elude him in the darkness of the night.

  BANG, BANG, BANG.

  The bark of his gun had a paralyzing effect; my feet twitched, my mind froze and I stood there like a mannequin, only that I had nerves that went jittery about.

  “Run, Tiffany,” he jeered, edging closer. The clip-clop of his boots, as they tramped on the wet leaves, became even louder against the groans and creeks of lingering critters.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” I murmured, teeth knocking against each other. He placed his gun in the bosom of his Jacket suit. The half-moon slipped slowly behind the clouds above, turning a part of his face into a shadow. He pulled this cord out from the pocket of his trousers. I stumbled backward, away from him but he would only edge closer. I tried to move further away from him but I couldn't; my back was against this wooden fence. I jolted at the clapping sound of his cord when he stretched it, viciously, between both hands. I immediately protected my neck with both hands, mighty shaky they were.

  “Relax,” he whispered, running his fingers gently along my nape. I kept his hand in sight – the hand that held the cord. Our bodies jerked with sudden dread as this abrupt lightening, sounding like electrocution, which cracked the dark skies open, illuminated our face. And then there came the thunder, sounding like an orchestra of timpani.

  “Where you going?” he growled, making creases form in his straight face. Held by the chin, I looked up into his cruel eyes with fear, much to his pleasure. My cheeks rained and so did the skies. By now our hairs were pasted over our face as the night rains pelted. My desperate eyes squinted between his face (trying to figure out his next course of action) and the cord he held in his left hand.

  “Tiffany, Tiffany,Tiffany...”

  “Yes?”

  “You're beautiful.” By now he had his fingers gripping my neck.

  “So...this is your idea of making good love?” I choked out.

  “Nah, this is my idea of punishing a darn pretty woman.”

  “What for?”

  “I hate unfaithful partners, Tiffany. Really hate em.”

  “And what does punishing me out here, in the rain, have to do with anything?” I breathed, keeping the cord, that he held, in sight.

  “You look like her.”

  “Who?” I trembled, holding on the fingers he had around my neck.

  “Someone I loved.”

  “I thought you wanted to love me, have a good time.”

  “Nah, why would I? You ran off, leaving your boyfriend alone in the club. Poor dude.”

  “He's not my boyfriend.”

  “So, where's your boyfriend? Don't tell me a pretty young lady like you don't have one,” he scolded, turning up his nose.

  “It's kind of – complicated.”

  He looked over at the lake, which had the fading moonlight showing the dancing of its ripples, and then he looked back at me. And in the twink of an eye, his cord was wrapped around my neck. Shit, that happened mighty fast.

  “Don't, please,” I choked out.

  By now my back was braced towards him. He was mighty strong; I felt every grip the muscles of his hands had on me, a conquered prey I became. The bastard pulled even harder on the cord around my neck and started walking me towards the lake.

  “NOOOO!” I shrieked.

  Any thoughts I had about this being a joke or probably his idea of screwing eroded from my mind when I was brought towards the foot of the lake.

  “I doubt they would find your body anyways,” he grinned as we looked at the movements within the water. Something was in there, underneath. It kept moving about, up the shore and then down the shore with excitement or anxiety as if it knew food was nearby. Something was in the lake for sure. I saw more ripples and bubbles, thanks to the piercing stare of the fading moon on the surface of the lake. There was probably more of them inside there. Shit.

  The way he smiled he must have been getting a kick out of seeing how helpless I was. “It's time to get inside the lake, Tiffany.”

  The rains pelted even harder. My gray dress was fully soaked and my hair pasted down my shoulders. It felt like the night of punishment for leaving Justin, my date at the cl
ub, alone, running off with some stranger. This definitely wasn't the type of adventure I had in mind. My chest tightened; I felt the bitterness of my own blood in my mouth. Air became scarce; I breathe even harder even as he squeezed the cord around my neck. He would have been done already had it not been for the pelting night rains

  “Help; someone PLEASE HELP ME!” I wailed. Now on the slippery wet grass, mud all over my body, my feet swinging in the air, he pulled even harder, ready to haul me inside the water, which had some unknown creature lurking beneath the surface. Whatever waited there in the water, edged even closer: I saw more ripples – It was feeding time. This was it. He hauled me towards the lake of the unknown. I grabbed on to his ankle.

  “Come on, Tiffany, let go off my ankle, now!”

  I would have complied but I'd lost that nerve to make my hand let go, it seemed. He shoved me off him, towards the water, which waited so anxiously, for another body to consume, but my hand just wouldn't let go off his ankle, even if I wanted it to.

  “Ok then, I guess I'll have to get rid of the hand that's causing trouble, right?” He pulled his switchblade from his jacket. I looked on, helplessly; most of me had already been frozen. I turned away, didn't want to see my hand slashed from off his ankle. But he slipped and fell, pulling my body towards this rock. I got this nasty blow to the head after crash-landing on it. My hand was released from his ankle, finally. He ended up in the lake.

  SEVEN

  ______________________________

  EXACTLY TEN MINUTES AFTER

  A quarter mile further down the stream.

  “Yes, thank goodness. The rain's done.”

  “Pete, you not planning on going back in that boat, are you?”

  “Why not, Holly?”

  “It's kind of late, let me see,” she tilted her left hand in the air, glancing at the face of her watch, “almost 9:30 and the moon seems ready to retire for the night.”

  “Which means we could get our groove on, you know...” He started that racy dance, giving his girlfriend a hint of the titillating things he wanted to do to her.

  Holly looked him over, infuriatingly, hands akimbo, as if to say – she would have none of it.

  “Come on Holly, doing it in the dark, until the moon goes down,” he lured, sticking his tongue between his lips, sending a shot of nervousness throughout her entire body.

  She pulled her jean shorts off; Pete moved towards the ledge, untying his canoe.

  “But, you know – the noises?”

  “Noises, what noises?” Pete shot back. He was done releasing his boat.

  “The noises we heard, like someone's screaming, about half hour ago?”

  “You mean the noises 'you' heard, not me. I couldn't hear anything but raindrops on the roof of our hut.”

  “Yes, Pete...I know I heard noises – like a woman screaming or something of the sort,” she tried to convince while taking a light from Pete's cigaret lighter.

  “I guess some serial killer killed someone and dump them off in the lake,” Pete joked. “Yeah right. Let's get back on our boat. A night is a terrible thing to waste, Holly; let's not waste it.”

  “I know I heard screaming, Pete,” she snarled, letting out whirls of white smoke from her cigar through her nostrils.

  The pair then embarked the small vessel, which stood there almost still in the moon-lit shimmery waters.

  “The bugs are back, Pete,” she muffled, using his shirt to cover her shoulders, hiding the top half of her bikinis.

  “You mean the frogs?” he said, listening to the croaks and the echoing of the owls.

  “Nah,” she fumed, slapping her left arm, “these shitty mosquitos.”

  “I suppose if we row down shore we'd be out of their territory, honey,” Pete answered, working the paddles of his kayak.

  It was as if their late evening changed to another color – black...pitch black; the moon had finally disappeared after giving enough warning that it would. Holly then flicked the smokey flames of their lanterns on.

  “You afraid of the dark?”

  “A lot of things can happen in the dark, Pete,” she quipped.

  “Like this...Holly.”

  Their lips smiled against each other and before you know it their lips glided against each other, lighting the lamp within them, making them warm-blooded lovers despite the frigid night by the lake. He swept her blond hair aside. He wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her so close to him. She nibbled and pinched his left ear like a woodpecker. Their moment was tender. It was like a fantasy.

  “Pete, you love me?” She pulled away from him.

  “I love you, love you and love you, Holly.”

  “So, why won't you marry me, Pete?”

  “Come on, Holly, no time for this.”

  “No, Pete,” she pushed, preventing him from touching her.

  He ran his hand through his head. “It's just that..”

  “That?” she probed, lips pouted. She waited, arms folded, for him to spit it out

  “I'm not the marriage type really.”

  “Look, Pete, I really can't be doing this anymore,” she ranted, replacing the top of her bikinis, hiding her pert bust, "All my sisters are married and I'm.."

  "What is it, Holly?"

  "I'm...I'm..."

  "Holly?" Pete said, taking a look behind him, where Holly's focus seemed suddenly fixated. "Holly?"

  She wouldn't answer; she had her hand covering her panting chest, trying to get her breathing back to normal.

  Pete took another look behind him and then he stared his girlfriend in the eyes for answers after seeing nothing but ripples behind him in the dark lake.

  "Holly?" A wrinkle of anxiety formed between his brows. "Say something, Holly!"

  "......A hand," she muffled.

  "All right, calm down, Holly. A hand, where?"

  "Th-er-e, " she pointed, looking over his shoulder; her words crept through her shivering teeth.

  He looked around, behind him, seeing nothing but the almost lifeless lake. He took up his lantern and hoovered it around. Then they both jumped after hearing this sudden splash. It was only a mullet, taking a leap. A sigh of relief escaped their lips.

  "You sure you saw something?"

  "Yes, Pete. I saw a hand popping out of the water."

  He stared her over, things going through his mind.

  "Yes, Pete, I know I saw a bloody hand popping out of the water, right behind you."

  Pete looked over his shoulder once more. "You mean, behind me?"

  Holly nodded, after looking around, nervously, checking out her environment.

  "Maybe it's some joke, Holly, or hallucination."

  "Do I look like a crazy person, Pete?" she stormed, pushing her hair from over her face.

  "Never said that, Holly, but..."

  Another jolt of anxiety ran through their body once more, tossing their canoe a bit, after hearing another splash.

  "Another mullet,I suppose," Pete said, turning around to her after looking at the ripples that danced around their small vessel.

  "Yes, Pete, another small fish, I would imagine." She tilted over the edge of the canoe.

  "Holly?"

  "This looks like..."

  "Oh, shit...blood."

  Pete, without further ado, started paddling the canoe towards safety.

  "NOOO!"

  This man's bloody face popped up before them, from beneath the surface of the water.

  "Pete!!!"

  His face disappeared beneath the water.

  Pete continued paddling away to safety, waking up the waves.

  "Hurry, Pete."

  "I'm hurrying, Holly, can't you see?" he panted.

  "PETE!!!!"

  The man was above the surface once more; this time they saw more of him, his bloody and tattered jacket suit. It was if he had barely escaped the wrath of some wild animal.

  "WHO ARE YOU?" Pete slammed.

  No answer came from his mouth but they figured who he was when
he raised a sharp knife at them. He held on to their canoe, tossing it over, creating a large splash. He clung to Pete, his bloody arm around his neck.

  "Pete!!!"

  "PETE, WHERE ARE YOU?" Holly wailed, parting the water while swimming away towards safety. A glimpse over her shoulder made her realize how much of a crimson bath the lake had become in less than a minute.

  * * *

  "She finally pulled herself to shore, her entire body plagued by jitters. She took deep breaths. She had her surroundings in sight.

  She used her hands to cover her chest as she walked nervously around in the dark.

  Should I scream for help or should I not? she wondered. She somewhat felt followed... She heard the clip clop of boots against the wet leaves. She continued making her way to the hut. She knew Pete had left a gun inside there.

  "Finally," she sighed. She turned the knob on the door of the hut. "Come on, open up, you stupid door." Her hands trembled while forcing the stubborn lock to open. It must have been her shattered nerves but the door was already open; no need to be fighting it. She pushed the door open and paced her way inside the hut that's colored with darkness within.

  "Come on, where is it?" She turned the drawers of the cabinet out, spilling documents, condoms and cigarettes on the wooden floor in a blam.

  She shuffled her way in the dark hut towards the bed room. The lights suddenly flicked on, shedding a golden illumination inside.

  Any doubt of her having uninvited company had vanished by now because she knew for sure that she had been followed. She moved swiftly towards the bedside table. She pulled the drawer open; there it was, the loaded pistol Pete had left behind.

  She pointed the pistol with trembling hands, more than willing to fire at anything that moved.

  She then heard the squeak of the door to the bedroom.