The Cellar bhc-1

by Richard Laymon

  He wondered why no one had come around looking for her. Maybe her folks were used to her disappearing.

  Roy lifted an edge of the curtain, and looked again at Cabin 12. The door was still shut.

  He looked around at the girls. Right now, he didn’t want either of them. Still, they were nice to look at, lying there naked and powerless in the darkening room.

  Later, maybe he could find time to take one of them.

  Which?

  Hell, he had lots of time to think about that. Lots of time.

  He got up. The older girl’s eyes watched him closely as he approached her. He bent over the bed. He traced a circle around her right nipple, watching the dark skin pucker and grow rigid. “Like that?” he whispered, smiling down at her.

  Then he jerked the pillow out from under her head, took it to the chair beside the window, and used it to cushion the straight wooden back. He sat down and leaned against the pillow. That felt much better.

  He inched open the curtain and continued his watch.

  CHAPTER TWENTY 1.

  Leaving the others inside his cabin, Jud walked the perimeter of the Welcome Inn. He saw no Rolls-Royce nor any sign of a six-foot-two man who might be Donna’s ex-husband. He returned to his cabin. He motioned for Donna to come outside.

  “Now,” he said, “we’ll go over to your place and wait for him.”

  “What about Sandy?”

  “Her, too.”

  “Does she have to? I’d rather…I don’t want her to see him, if it’s possible.”

  “Here’s the problem. He doesn’t seem to be around right now, but he might be. I could’ve missed him. If he’s watching, he’ll know we’ve left Sandy in 12. He might try for her.”

  “Suppose she’s with us,” Donna said, “and Roy comes and somehow he…gets by you. Then he’s got Sandy. If we leave her with Larry and that happens, she’ll still be all right.”

  “Whichever way you want it.”

  “Do you think he’ll know, if we leave her in 12?”

  “He might,” Jud admitted.

  “But there’s a good chance he won’t?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Okay. Let’s leave her in 12 with Larry.”

  “Fine.”

  He instructed Larry to stay inside, to keep the door locked and the curtains pulled, and, at the first sign of trouble, to fire a signal shot and lock himself and Sandy in the bathroom. Low in the tub, they should be be safe from bullets. Jud would come running. He’d be there five seconds after the first shot.

  “Perhaps,” Larry said, “I can pot the bugger with my signal shot.”

  “If he gives you a clean shot, take it. But don’t hang around waiting. You’ll be fairly safe once you’re in the tub with the bathroom door locked.”

  Jud left him the rifle. He picked up Lilly Thorn’s diary. Then he and Donna crossed the shadowy parking area to Cabin 9.

  He went in first, and searched it. When Donna was in, he locked the door and made sure the window curtains were completely shut. He turned on the lamp on the nightstand between the two beds.

  “Where do you want me?” Donna asked.

  “I’ll be on the floor here between the beds, so I’m out of sight. You might as well take one of the beds. Maybe this would be best,” he said, patting the one farthest from the door.

  “Looks good to me. What’ll we do while we wait?”

  “You can watch TV, if you want. Doesn’t matter. I want to see what Lilly’s got to say.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why don’t I read it to you?”

  “All right.” He smiled. He liked that idea. He liked it a lot.

  Donna took off her sneakers. Her socks were white. Her feet looked very small to Jud. He watched her climb onto the bed and sit upright, bracing her back against the headboard.

  He sat down on the floor between the beds. With a spare pillow, he padded the front of the nightstand, and leaned back. He placed his Colt .45 automatic on the floor beside him.

  “All set?” Donna asked.

  “All set.”

  “ ‘My Diary,’ ” she began to read. “ ‘Being a True Account of My Life and Most Private Affairs.’ ” 2.

  “ ‘January 1,’ ” she read. “I guess this whole thing’s 1903. ‘This being the first day of the new year, I devoted myself to solemn meditation. I gave proper thanks to the Lord for his bounty in providing me two fine boys, and the wherewithal to meet our needs. I asked Him to forgive my transgressions, but most of all to look kindly upon my dear Lyle, who had a fine noble heart and strayed from the path of righteousness only because he loved his family to a fault.’”

  “He was a bank robber,” Jud said.

  “But he had a noble heart.”

  “Maybe you can skip some of this.”

  “And get to the good part?” She slowly flipped the pages, scanning them. “Oh, here’s something. ‘February 12. I was sick at heart, today. The Lord continued to remind us that we are outcasts in this town. Several of the local youngsters attacked Earl and Sam as they were returning from school. The cowards wounded my boys with stones, then fell upon them, further bludgeoning them with fisticuffs and sticks. I know not the reason for their cruelty, only that its source lies in the reputation of the boys’ father.’ ”

  Donna turned more pages. “Looks like she went around town for a few days, telling the parents what their kids had done. They were polite to her, but cold. She no sooner got done making the rounds than her boys got beaten up again. One had a bad knock on the head, so she went to a Dr. Ross. ‘Dr. Ross is a kindly, cheerful man of fortyodd years. He appears to bear no grudge against myself or the children because of our kinship to Lyle. On the contrary, he looks upon us with the kindliest eyes I have seen in many months. He assured me that I need not fear for Earl’s condition. I invited him to take tea, and we delighted in one another’s company for the better part of an hour.’”

  Jud listened to the whisper of turning pages.

  “Looks like she’s seeing Dr. Ross almost every day. She’s started calling him Glen. ‘April 14. Glen and I took a picnic basket to the hilltop behind the house. Much to my surprise and delight, he produced from his medicine case a bottle of the finest French Burgundy. We enjoyed ourselves marvelously, feasting upon chicken and wine, and upon each other’s company. As the day progressed, our passion rose. I was hard put to restrain the man. Though he kissed me with an ardor that stole my breath away, I allowed him no further liberties.’ ”

  Donna stopped reading. She looked down at Jud, smiled, and sat down beside him on the floor. “I’ll allow you the liberty of a kiss,” she said.

  He kissed her gently, and she pressed her mouth to his as if hungry for the taste of it. When he put a hand on her breast, she pushed it away.

  “Back to Lilly,” she said.

  Jud watched her skim the pages. She was sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, the book propped against her upraised knees. The soft downy hair on her cheek looked golden in the lamplight. The closeness and smell of her excited Jud so he stopped caring much about Lilly Thorn.

  “She doesn’t get very specific, but I think she’s well beyond the kissing stage, at this point. She’s hardly writing about anything, now, except Glen.”

  “Mmmm.” Jud put a hand on Donna’s leg, feeling the heat of her thigh through the corduroy.

  “Ah-ha! ‘May 2. Last night, long after the children were abed, I stole outside at the appointed hour and met Glen in the gazebo. After many protestations of love, he asked for my hand in marriage. I accepted his offer without hesitation, and he joyously clutched me to his bosom. Through much of the night, we embraced and planned our future. At length, the chill became too great for us. We stole into the parlor. There, on the couch, we held one another tenderly, blessed by the fullness of the moment.’ ”

  Donna shut the diary, keeping place with her forefinger. “You know,” she said, “it makes me feel kind of…dirty, reading this. L
ike a peeping Tom, or something. It’s so private.”

  “It might tell us who killed her family.”

  “It might. I’ll go on with it. Only…I don’t know.” She lowered her head and began turning the pages. “They’ve set a date for the wedding. July 25.”

  Jud put his arm across her shoulders.

  “ ‘May 8. We held another rendezvous in the gazebo, last night, meeting at the stroke of one. Glen had the presence of mind to bring a comforter. With the chill of night vanquished, our ardor burst upon us without restraint. We were caught as in a tide. Powerless to resist its pull, we allowed the tide to buoy us upon its bosom and sweep us into blissful delight such as I have never known.’ I guess,” Donna said, “that means they screwed.”

  “Christ, I thought their raft had capsized.”

  Laughing, Donna pounded his leg. “You’re awful.” She faced him, and he kissed her. “Awful,” she said into his mouth.

  He brushed his fingertips along the smooth skin of her cheek, traced the outline of her jaw and throat. She put the book down. Turning so a breast pushed against Jud’s side, she plucked at his shirt, unbuttoning it. Then she slid her hand beneath it, stroking his belly and chest.

  Jud pulled her down, away from the nightstand. Lying on his side, with the length of her pressed against him, he pulled her shirttail free and slipped his hand down the back of her corduroys, feeling the cool smooth curves of her buttocks. He moved his hand up her back to unhook her bra.

  “Wait,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The floor was last night,” she said, pushing away from him. She stood up.

  With her eyes fixed steadily on Jud and a slightly apprehensive look on her face, she unbuttoned her blouse. She tossed it onto the bed near the door. She shrugged off her bra, and tossed it. Sitting on the side of the bed, she pulled off her socks. She stood, tugged open her belt, and unfastened her pants. They dropped to her ankles. She stepped out of them. Now she wore only brief panties. The dark of her pubic thatch was visible through sheer blue nylon. She slipped the panties off.

  “Stand up,” she said. Jud noticed a tremor of fear or excitement in her voice.

  He pulled off his shoes and socks. He set his Colt .45 beside the lamp. Then he stood, taking off his shirt. While he unbuttoned it, Donna unbelted his pants. She lowered them, kneeling. Then she slid the underpants down his legs. Her tongue licked and she took him in, sucking.

  He moaned. As Donna stood, he brought her tightly against him. For a long time, he held her there between the beds, kissing her, exploring the slopes and crevices and orifices of her body, stroking and probing while she did the same with him.

  Then they parted. Donna pulled back the covers, and they lay on the bed.

  They didn’t hurry.

  Part of Jud’s mind remained cautious, listening and alert like a guard standing watch. The rest of him joined Donna. He became part of her smoothness, her hair, the quiet sounds she made in her throat, her dry places and her slippery places, the many smells of her, the tastes. And finally the slick scabbard that took him, taunted him until he ached for release.

  Arching his back, he thrust deeper, deeper than ever. Again. Crying out, Donna lurched up and grabbed him. He fell on her, ramming and ramming, and all the tight ache blasted out of him.

  They lay together afterward for a long time. They talked softly; they said nothing. Donna fell asleep holding his hand. Finally, Jud got up. He dressed, and resumed his position on the floor between the beds, the .45 automatic next to his leg. 3.

  “Was I asleep long?” Donna asked.

  “Half an hour, maybe.”

  She pulled herself to the edge of the bed and kissed Jud. “Want to get back to Lilly?” she asked.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I really conked out.”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled. “All your fault.” She reached down a bare arm for the book.

  “Maybe you’d better get dressed.”

  “Mmmm.” She sounded as if she didn’t care much for the idea.

  “If we have a visitor…”

  “God, did you have to remind me?”

  He stroked the side of her face. “You get dressed, and I’ll look in on Sandy and Larry.”

  “Okay.”

  She covered herself with a sheet when Jud opened the door.

  Sometime during their lovemaking, darkness had come. Light showed through the window of Cabin 12. Jud stood beside Donna’s Maverick and searched the parking area. A woman with two children came out of Cabin 14. They got into a camper van. He waited for the van to leave, then he crossed to Cabin 12 and knocked lightly on the door. “It’s Jud,” he said.

  “Just a sec.”

  A moment later, Larry opened the door. Jud looked in. He saw Sandy sitting cross-legged in front of the television, looking over her shoulder at him.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Until you frightened the heebie-jeebies out of me a second ago, everything was marvelous.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

  He went back to Donna’s cabin. She was sitting on the floor between the beds, dressed in her cords and blouse, the diary resting against her upthrust knees. He sat down beside her, and put his .45 next to his right leg. “They’re fine,” he said.

  “Okay. Back to Lilly. If you remember, her boat has just capsized.”

  “Right. And she was drowned in waves of passion.”

  “Which gave you the idea of making waves of your own.”

  “Is that what happened?”

  “I think so.”

  Jud kissed her quickly, and she smiled.

  “None of that,” she said. “Back to Lilly.”

  “Back to Lilly.”

  “Okay, after she made it with Glen that first night, they ‘indulged their passion’ on a regular basis. Almost every night, in fact. I don’t suppose you want to hear about that.”

  “In my present condition, not especially.”

  “Okay, let’s see what’s next.” She turned several pages as she skimmed them. “ ‘May 17. Today, I posted a letter to Ethel, requesting her attendance at the nuptials. I am hoping she will, at long last, journey down from Portland…’” Donna read the rest to herself and flipped the page. She remained silent. Looking up at her, Jud saw her eyes moving over the words. Her lips were pressed tightly together.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Her eyes met Jud’s. “Something’s happened,” she muttered.

  “ ‘May 18. A most disturbing sight greeted me, this morning, when I went down to the cellar to fetch a jar of apples from among those I’d put up last autumn. In the light of my gas lamp, I saw that two of my canning jars lay broken on the floor. Another was open as nice as can be, and empty. My first inclination, naturally, was to blame the boys. However, the label of the empty jar told me it had contained beets, a vegetable abhorred by both boys. This discovery chilled me to the heart, for I knew that a stranger had trespassed within my house, and I knew not the nature of his intentions. Resisting my impulse to run upstairs and have done with it, I searched the confines of the cellar.

  “‘In a corner near the east wall, hidden from view behind half a dozen bushel baskets, I discovered a hole in the dirt floor—a hole large enough to permit the passage of a man or large animal. I quickly fetched my canned apples, and fled the cellar.

  “ ‘May 19. I gave much thought to informing Glen of the stranger’s visit to my cellar. At length, I decided to leave him in ignorance, for I know that his protective instincts would call upon him to destroy the visitor. I could hardly abide such a stern measure. The visitor, after all, has thus far harmed no one.

  “ ‘I resolved to settle the matter myself, by covering the entrance hole. To accomplish this task, I fetched a spade from the tool shed. I went down cellar. Two more jars of preserves lay open and empty on the floor. This time, the visitor had indulged himself upon my peaches. Gazing down upon the empty jar
s, I felt a sudden warmth of compassion in my heart.

  “ ‘The visitor, I realized, meant me no harm. His only wish was to stave off the ravages of hunger. Perhaps he was an unfortunate lad, one of society’s outcasts. I have known the loneliness and the fear of it. My heart went out to the luckless, desperate soul who had dug into my cellar for a few mouthfuls of my preserves. I vowed to meet him, and help him if I can.

  “ ‘May 30.’ That’s an eleven-day gap, Jud.”

  “Yeah.”

  “ ‘May 30. I hesitate, I tremble, at the thought of committing my deeds to paper. To whom can I confide, however? Reverend Walters? He would only confirm that which I know already, that my deeds are foul in the eyes of God and I have condemned my soul to everlasting flames. I surely cannot tell Dr. Ross. I know not what terrible vengeance he would certainly visit upon me and Xanadu.

  “ ‘On May 19, I resolved to meet and attempt to help the visitor to my cellar. Glen came by, after the children were abed. He used me after his usual fashion.’ What became of the surging tides?” Donna asked. She immediately continued reading. “ ‘When he was done with me, we chatted idly for a time. At length, he departed.

  “ ‘I went to the pantry, and silently opened the cellar door. There in the darkness, I waited, listening. Not a sound issued from the cellar. I descended the stairs, feeling my way cautiously, though I carried an unlighted lamp.

  “ ‘When I felt the dirt floor of the cellar under my bare feet, I sat down upon the lowest step and continued my wait.

  “ ‘My patience, at length, was rewarded. A muffled sound of one breathing heavily with exertion rose from the vicinity of the hole. Soon came faint sounds such as a body might make dragging itself over hard earth. Then I saw a head appear above the bushel baskets.

  “ ‘The darkness concealed its features. I could only discern the head’s pale shape. Even that was far from distinct. I judged it from the paleness to be the head of a man foreign to the blissful rays of the sun.