“Woops.”
“So, that was you I saw looking in the window?”
“When?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“That window?” He saw the pale shape of her arm lift. “The one you were at?”
“Yeah…”
“No. I just got back here.”
The scampering feeling returned to his back. “Don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not.” Her head turned to him. “You saw somebody there?”
“You’re not messing with me?”
“No. Honestly, I’m not. I just got over here when I saw you.”
Ted groaned.
“You really did see someone?”
Ted told her the story, leading up to the part where she’d tossed him onto his back with very little effort.
“My God,” she said.
“I know somebody was there. I didn’t imagine it.”
“Well, let’s find her. You think it was a…?”
Ted clucked his tongue. “No way. Too tall.”
She helped Ted stand up. He was surprised by the amount of pain he felt in his back. She’d really done a number on him. He wouldn’t admit it to her, though. “Are you sure you want to?” he said. “Maybe we should get the others, try and get a cop out here.”
“We’ll look ourselves.”
And they did. They made two laps around the house, stopping to check behind the shed. They even made their way over to the barn and shone the light around inside. When they’d finished in there, they agreed whoever Ted saw—if he actually had—was gone.
“That’s that,” said Steph, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the back door.
“I guess so.”
“That was exciting, huh?”
As if to remind him how much it wasn’t, his back hit him with a burning pull. “Not really.”
Laughing, Steph took his hand in hers. “Let’s go in. It’s a lot warmer in there.”
“I agree with you there.” Seeing the door hanging open, Ted added, “If you didn’t let all the heat out.”
Bashfully grinning, Steph raised her shoulders and clamped her bottom lip between her teeth. It was a cute expression and he realized it would forever make trying to be mad at her impossible.
They climbed the stairs. Steph went inside first. Holding on to the door, Ted turned around and gave one more look. When all he saw were the gray shapes of the land veiled in darkness, and nothing else, he sighed.
Maybe I did imagine her.
Then he went inside. He closed and locked the door.
Ted turned around and stopped when he saw Steph was in his bed. She was on her back, the blankets up to her chin and squirming.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting rid of these.”
She stuck her arm out from under the blanket. Her pants hung from her hand. She let them drop onto her shoes that had already been discarded on the floor.
“Um…” Ted stopped talking and watched her wiggle some more.
“And these,” she said, adding her panties to the pile. She sat up. The blanket dropped down. She lifted her sweatshirt. Her full breasts rose as the shirt was pulled over her head. She tossed the shirt away and her breasts lowered. They seemed to be painted in cream from the darker skin around them. The nipples were tiny dark dots on milky-white curves.
Ted was speechless, staring, mouth agape.
“Well,” she said. “Are you going to stand there all night, or do you plan on joining me?”
He went to the window where he’d seen the face and pulled the curtains.
Then he joined her.
Maggie
She stood at the foot of the bed, watching him sleep. He was on his back, the blankets pulled up to his chin. Mouth partway open, he snored quietly. She wanted to crawl under the blankets with him. It looked so comfortable. And warm. Made her long for her old bed.
I shouldn’t be in here.
Shouldn’t be at the house, either. The man downstairs saw her looking in the window. She should have kept going. But on her way back to the woods, she’d spotted the back door left open. Going inside was too enticing not to try.
A woman almost saw her on her way after the man. Maggie hid behind the foldout bed until she was gone. Then she’d hurried up the stairs, sniffing the hallway until finding his scent.
And now she was in his room!
If Warder found out she’d snuck away from the village, he would punish her.
Stupid! So stupid!
He might not let her go tomorrow if she got caught. If he made her stay back while the others raided the house, she would die. No doubt Randy would be killed in the process, and it made her feel sick thinking about it.
Again she tried to understand these muddled thoughts and feelings, and again she couldn’t. She only knew him from watching him the past couple of days as he’d worked on the house. These feelings were new to her. Exciting and terrifying, all at once. Her mind scattered around the inside of her skull like a shaken snow globe.
Maggie saw her arm reaching for the blanket. Saw her fingers curl over the top and slowly pull it down. The blanket lowered, exposing Randy’s bare chest.
Maggie made a noise in her throat that was partly a squeal and mostly a groan. Her breaths came faster.
She paused when Randy stirred slightly. His head turned on the pillow. She expected him to raise his head and ask who was in his room. He didn’t. Soft snores took the silence away.
Stretching her hand, she lowered it to his chest. She gently placed it on the center of his chest. His skin felt warm and soft, short hairs tickling her palm. She rubbed her hand up, bringing it back down.
Randy moaned. His nipples hardened.
Maggie started trembling all over. Her breaths came in sputtering hisses.
His hand rose off the bed, moving flaccidly in the dark as if feeling around. His fingers stroked her forearm and he moaned again. Maggie sucked in a stuttering gasp, clamping her lips between her teeth. His touch tickled, launching a ridge of gooseflesh across her skin.
Stop it! He’s going to wake up!
She looked at Randy’s face. His eyes were still closed, but he was becoming vaguely aware of her rubbing hand. Squirming under her, his breaths were speeding up. She lifted the other hand to the blanket and saw how badly she was shaking. She pulled the blanket lower.
Down his stomach.
Lower.
The blanket got hung up on something and she had to pull a little harder to get it to move again.
Randy’s stiff penis sprang out from under the blanket. It swung high before the weight snatched it back. It smacked his skin when it fell against his abdomen.
Maggie jumped back as if a rattlesnake had lunged with its fangs dripping venom. She threw the blanket back over his waist. Her heart pounded inside her chest, knocking against her throat. She hadn’t expected to see that. Of course, she knew he had one, though she couldn’t have imagined what one really looked like up close.
Randy made a grumbling noise and rolled onto his side. His arm patted blindly around him, found the blanket and pulled it back over his shoulder.
When he was snoring again, she hurried out of the room, quiet when she closed the door behind her. No lights were on in the hallway, so she moved swiftly in the shadows. Taking the stairs, she descended in a delicate stealth to prevent the wood under her feet from groaning.
On the bottom floor, she listened. The squeaking of springs came from inside the living room in a steady rhythm. She quietly made her way over there. Crouching outside the doorway, she peered inside.
The back of the couch faced her. She could see a woman’s head bouncing up and down above the upper edge. Her red hair flapped around her gasping mouth.
A man’s hand reached up, fingers cu
rving around her throat as if to strangle her. They didn’t apply pressure, though, just gripped her there. From the smile on her face, the woman seemed to like that even more.
Deciding not to go out that way, Maggie backed into the hall. She moved through the dark to the front door. It was new and barely made a sound when she let herself out.
From the warmth inside, the cold air made the sweat on her skin feel like ice water.
She ran into the woods. Her mind returned to Randy’s room, to touching him, to seeing so much of him. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She slowed her run to a prancing skip. Laughter escaped her.
It had been scary and also so much fun.
She couldn’t wait to see him again.
Skipping with her hands crossed behind her back, she headed for the village. She felt good, light.
Tomorrow she would see Randy, and this time she wouldn’t be so scared.
Heather
Snuggled in Chad’s muscular arms, she looked into his eyes. His were misty and threatened to spill tears down his cheeks. He swallowed and it made a wet gulping sound.
His hands dipped down her back. She felt their heat through her shirt. She stared at him as they stood in front of her shut bedroom door, her mouth partly open. Reaching behind her, she found Chad’s wrists and grabbed them. She pulled them around to her front and raised them to her chest.
Without looking away, Chad cupped her breasts. Heather hissed through clenched teeth. Her nipples slipped between the spread V of his fingers, settling into the groove in the center of his knuckles.
When did I take off my shirt?
He squeezed his fingers together, pinching her nipple and making her moan.
Then his hands pulled away, slipped behind her back and down her legs, and scooped her up. Looking down at herself, she saw her nudity from the shoulders down. Saw the bulging pinkish scar that traced a jagged line from her navel up to her left breast. Suddenly she felt insecure; the scar looked more revolting than normal. Wanting to cover it up, she couldn’t get her hands down there to do it.
She was tossed onto the mattress. It bounced and squeaked under her. The bed seemed to make an even louder racket as Chad climbed onto it. He kicked his shoes off. They landed on the floor with two soft thumps. He was reaching behind his legs to remove his socks when Heather sat up and began working at his belt.
Chad suddenly stopped. “Are you sure we should…do this?”
Heather acted as if she hadn’t heard him. The belt came free of the clasp, and she started on his pants. She pulled down the zipper. Chad hesitated only a moment longer; then he removed his socks. He pulled off his shirt as Heather shoved his pants and boxer briefs down his thighs.
His enormous penis pointed at her. She remembered how it felt inside of her, big and intense, deep and eager. She wanted to feel it again.
Chad fought his way out of his pants and flung them away. The denim legs smacked the wall on the opposite side of the room and skated down to the floor. Heather curled her hand around the elongated staff and began to stroke. He sucked in a gasp and held it. On his knees, he angled his body to the side so she could tug the shaft easier. His hand slipped into her hair and gripped a wad of lengthy locks. The yanking burn in her scalp hurt and also caused her thighs to tremble.
She stroked him harder, faster. His grip became stronger, pulling against her skull as if he were trying to rip out a clump. Finally, he released her hair. His hand clasped a shoulder and gave her a quick shove.
Heather fell back onto the bed, opening her legs for him. He crawled between them. Bracing himself up on one hand, he gripped his penis with the other and angled it down. She lost sight of it when it lowered between her parted thighs, but felt its large girth as he shoved into her. Her whole body tensed. Legs extended straight up, her feet arched and toes pointed at the ceiling. She gripped Chad’s hips, squeezing so hard she felt his skin growing hot as if sunburned. He grabbed her wrists and slammed her hands on the pillow at either side of her head. Then he lowered himself, his chest pushing against her, mashing her breasts.
He started thrusting, sending the metal bedframe into the wall.
Heather didn’t care about the commotion. All that mattered to her was how good it felt. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming. Eyes pinched shut, she huffed through her nose.
Something warm and moist traced the scar’s path, followed by the soft pecking of lips. Heather opened her eyes and stared down at Chad. Gone was his thick hair and in its place was a thin layer of colorless fuzz. A balding scalp could be seen below the webby texture.
It was no longer Chad shoving wildly into her.
It was Marvin Grunnel.
No!
Heather squirmed under him, wriggling to free herself. Her back felt glued to the mattress. She couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. The heat between her legs turned frigid and the solidity that had once been Chad’s penis turned limp and slimy, as if a slug were inside her.
The walls around her began to dissolve like a strip of film damaged by the projector, melting and stretching. Then it was no longer her bedroom in Doverton, but her old bedroom at her house. She was back in her old bed, on the mattress she’d burned after Grunnel’s conviction because his dank smell was absorbed into it.
“I’m back, hot stuff,” said Grunnel, winded and hoarse. Sweat streamed down his face, drops catching in his bushy eyebrows. His dead, fishlike eyes leered down at her as a tongue that looked more like a snake’s tail wiggled out from his mouth and licked a path in the beaded sweat on his upper lip.
“Get away from me,” she screamed. “Chad? Help!”
Grunnel laughed. “He ain’t gonna help you, hot stuff. All you got in the world is me. All you need in the world is me.”
Somehow, she’d gone back in time. She was again the woman who worked the front end of an urgent-care clinic. Of all the patients they’d seen that day, Marvin Grunnel stood out. He’d come in with sinus troubles, and after he left, Heather and the girls up front couldn’t stop talking about him. Talking about how creepy he was. Tall and lanky, his hair was a thin nest of strings that hung around an elongated face and flat nose. Combining that with giant blocked teeth, he was the human resemblance of a sick horse.
And she’d recognized him the moment she’d answered the door. He’d followed her home and rung the doorbell.
“What’d you do to Chad?” she said.
Grunnel laughed. “I am Chad!” His head tilted back and his rubbery mouth fired laughter at the ceiling. He held up a sagging piece of rubber by the fake hair attached to it. Its eyes were stretched and hollow, the mouth yawning and crooked. The features vaguely resembled a mass-produced Chad face manufactured with cheap supplies.
A mask!
Now she was back to that awful afternoon, the scrubs she hadn’t changed out of were tattered shreds of purple fabric and tossed all around her bedroom. Her panties, still clinging to her hips by the straps, had been ripped open in the front. A pot of water was boiling on the stove, and spilling over the rim, sizzling like demonic hisses when it splashed the burner. The small house made it easy to hear from her bedroom.
“Just lie back,” whispered Grunnel. “It won’t take me long.”
He spit on his fingers and rubbed her sex with his saliva for lubrication. Then he forced himself in. Though paralyzed in a panic-stricken and fear-induced shock, she was still able to comprehend his negligence in leaving behind DNA. He just wanted her, by any means necessary. With such carelessness, she understood there was no hope he’d let her live. After he’d busted his nut, he would kill her.
The box cutter was his attempt at doing so. He was an even sloppier murderer than a rapist and she’d managed to get away from him. Running down the short residential street and screaming her ass off had attracted the attention of her neighbors. Before she’d reached the end of the street, a p
olice cruiser was turning in to greet her.
And Marvin Grunnel was locked up.
He’s in prison!
As if reading her mind, Grunnel’s face lowered to hers. His breath stunk like a flooded septic tank. “No, I’m not. I’m here with you. I’ll always be with you. We’re meant to be together. Forever!”
Then she felt him spurting inside of her. Thick and hot, his seed burned like acid as it filled her up, killing her ability to conceive children. Her insides were on fire.
The ratcheting clank of the box cutter’s blade filled the room. She felt its sharp tip jab into her flesh.
The hot slice of pain shocked Heather awake.
Faint hints of daylight pushed against the blinds of the single window in the room. A soft dimness was beginning to thin the darkness, though plenty of heavy shadows remained in the corners.
Panting, Heather lifted her head. Her drenched hair was glued to her face. The mattress felt cold and soggy under her. Sitting up, she kicked the damp, clinging blankets away. Her skin was glossy under a gelid sheen. Without the blankets, she started to shiver. But pulling them back on would feel like drying with a wet towel.
Stupid nightmare.
Heather sighed with relief. Just another damn nightmare.
How long had it been since Grunnel had violated her dreams?
A while.
She wondered why he’d picked now to make an appearance.
It’s not like he chose to come on his own.
She knew that, though she could never fully convince herself. Deep down she felt Grunnel knew exactly what he was doing to her dreams. Lying on his cot in a dingy cell, she could imagine him waking with a smile on his face as she sat here shivering in the cold room.
Bastard.
Heather wished he were dead.
But if he died, his black soul might haunt her forever.
As if it didn’t already.
Closing her eyes, she took several breaths to calm her drumming heart. She pushed her feelings about Marvin Grunnel to the wayside as she tried to remember the night before. Something was different now, and it wasn’t just the nightmare making her think so.
The Lurking Season Page 11