Fossil Lake: An Anthology of the Aberrant

by Ramsey Campbell

  Quite the butch you were, Marcella. And now you’re quite the bitch. She sighed.

  As they set up the tent, she attempted to start a conversation, but the fire-laced glare she was rewarded with shut her down. Deciding to let Lana stew in her own juices a while, she made some cursory excuse and headed down to the lake with her fishing gear.

  The canoe was exactly where the ranger had said it would be. The water was calm, and the setting sun lingered just above the ridge. Good time to fish in peace, catch some dinner. Even the loon calling across the lake didn’t break her concentration as she rowed to the center of the lake, fixed a lure to the line, and cast out.

  * * *

  Lana unrolled the sleeping bags and zipped them together. When she’d spread them on the floor of the tent, she paused, rocking back on her heels. Changing her mind, she unzipped the bags, and closed them up separately.

  Even if we zip ‘em back together later, for now this’ll show her I mean business.

  Knowing full well she was being childish, Lana finished prepping the tent. She grabbed the small cooler, and climbed the tree-ladder to the shelf built across a heavy branch. Similar shelves dotted the campground; safe places to put coolers or other valuables that campers didn’t want wildlife scrounging through.

  A glance at the lake showed her Marcella out there, sitting in the canoe. A twinge of guilt tightened her chest, but only briefly. She was right, and Marcella had to know that.

  After a handful of tries, she got the fire going, thankful that the ranger had provided them with several nights worth of dry firewood. Lana hated chopping wood; that was more Marcella’s thing. Just like fishing, camping, hunting …

  … and the lack of real wedding plans …

  Twigs snapped. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and not just because the French-braid exposed them to the air. Something was behind her. She rose, spinning around to see … nothing. All she heard was insect chitter, the sound of the fire crackling, and an occasional bird call.

  Chiding herself, she turned back to the fire. Soon she had two foil-wrapped potatoes slow-baking in the coals, perfect to have with whatever fish Marce brought from the lake.

  She had been out there an awfully long time, though, and Lana felt a bit of worry crawl up from under her anger.

  What’s taking her so long? I’m starving…

  SNAP.

  She spun around again, this time catching a glimpse of a dark figure ducking behind a tree.

  “Hello? Who’s there, who are you?” At her feet was a stout length of firewood. She leaned over to pick it up, losing sight of the tree for a moment. When she straightened, she gasped, startled.

  A man stood there, a man with long, stringy black hair and a dirty goatee. His eyes glittered with something that made Lana’s skin crawl. His smile looked deranged. When he spoke, his voice was whiny and high-pitched, the words coming so fast they tumbled over each other.

  “Hi. I’m Nick. I’m sleeping a couple campsites over. What are you doing?” He stepped forward, holding out his hand like he wanted to shake.

  She took it, not able to control a shudder when his stubby fingers wrapped around hers. Rage flittered in his eyes, though he maintained his smile.

  “Lana. I’m camping here with my fiancé.” She eased back, trying to distance herself from his smell. Has he ever showered? He smells like the guys’ locker-room at work.

  “Oh. Where is he? Where’s your food, you gonna just eat fish out here? There’s nothing in that lake ya know, except monsters. You got anything to drink? I could kill a beer.” The giggle that snorted from his nose was as bad as his voice.

  “We didn’t bring any alcohol. Marcella’s out in the canoe, I’m sure she’ll be back soon. You should probably go.” Lana gripped the branch, pretending to lean on it like a walking stick.

  “Wait, what did you say? Did you say she? What the fuck, you a fucking dykecunt?”

  Lana backed up, stumbling over an exposed root. “Y-yes. No. No. I’m a lesbian.”

  “You are a fucking dykecuntqueer bitch! Well, I’ll fucking be.” He took another step toward her. When she raised the piece of wood as a threat, it only brought another gurgling giggle from the grimy man in front of her.

  “You get away from here!” she cried. “Now! I’ve got a Sat-phone, I’ll call the ranger and have you ejected from the park!”

  “I was just being friendly, you bitch cuntlicker. Freak of nature, sinning whore. How dare you come here and ruin my place with your filthy sin? God’s gonna smite you, bitch, if I don’t first!” With that, he turned and fled back into the brush where he’d come from.

  Lana stood, open-mouthed, until she heard the canoe scrape on rocks. Moments later, she caught sight of Marcella coming up the path.

  “What the hell, Lana? What happened?”

  Relating the incident brought on the shudders again. It took ten minutes for her to calm down, her arms wrapped around Marce’s waist, finally feeling safe.

  “He’s gone now, love,” Marcella said. “He’s gone. I’m here. If he comes back, I’ll lay it to him. He won’t bug you again, okay?”

  She nodded, turning her face up for a kiss. Moments later, Marcella was filleting a nice pike she’d pulled from the lake, and Lana was checking the potatoes. By the time they’d cleaned up, stoked the fire for the night, and gone to bed, the incident was well out of their minds.

  Especially after they’d zipped the sleeping bags together again.

  * * *

  Outside of the campsite circle, hidden in a particularly thick patch of underbrush, Nick crouched, watching, as the silhouettes of the two women in the tent moved against each other.

  His right hand went into his pants, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing .. until his breath caught in his throat and he grunted.

  He’d made a mess in his pants. Goddamn cuntlicking dykewhores will pay for that!

  He slunk away while their cries of pleasure echoed across the water.

  * * *

  Marcella was gone when Lana woke up, having left a note on the tent flap to tell her she’d headed out fishing again, hoping to get a walleye for breakfast. That made Lana laugh out loud.

  A walleye? What kind of name is that for a fish?

  Deciding a fresh start was in order for the day, she pulled her hair into a ponytail, grabbed the nature-friendly soap and her towel, and walked down to the private beach in her swimsuit. She fought the urge to squeal until she was shoulder deep in water so cold it made her teeth chatter, and pulled the straps of her suit to her waist for a quick wash.

  It shouldn’t be so hard to plan the wedding, she thought as she scrubbed. I just really want her family there.

  But Lana knew she’d give in eventually. She always did.

  The cold had either numbed her body or she’d become used to it, so she ducked under to rinse herself off, then swam out a little way.

  When she surfaced and brushed the water from her eyes, he was there.

  The grimy man from the night before stood on the edge of the water, staring out at her. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like he was grinning far more widely than a human should be able to. And he had his hand down his pants.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Paddling in a frantic circle, she looked across the lake, but didn’t see the canoe. She panicked. “MARCELLA!?”

  As she splashed back around to face the shore, Lana saw he was gone. She stayed out in the water what had to be another twenty minutes anyway, until she was shivering so violently she didn’t think she could swim, let alone walk. Finally, she made her way to shore. Wrapping her towel around her waist, she ran up the path to the tent.

  She stripped out of the wet swimsuit, threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, and slid into the sleeping bag to wait safe inside until Marcella returned.

  “Babe …” said Marcella, finding her there a short time later.

  Lana tried to talk, but fell apart. Marcella crawled into the sleeping bag with her and held her while s
he waited for Lana to calm the emotional storm and tell her what had happened.

  Marcella held her a few minutes more, then rose to leave the tent. “You need something warm inside to help with the cold. I’ll leave the flaps open and be right outside at the fire, okay?”

  Lana nodded, curling on her side to watch as Marcella prepared breakfast. Soon, she was presented with a bowl of hot oatmeal and a mug of steaming coffee, which she took gratefully.

  “Maybe we should call the ranger?” Lana asked, after she’d warmed through and calmed down. “I know it was stupid, going down there on my own, but I … I guess I just forgot. We’ve never had a problem here before.”

  “Honey, we’re supposed to be alone out on this side of the lake. The ranger said there was no one else out here. I’m going to call him, yes, if only to bitch him out about that. But, I don’t think this guy is here legally. I think he’s one of those what do you call ‘ems… squatters. Crazy homeless shits that live in the forest until reality finally catches them and throws them in the looneybin.”

  Lana nodded, sipping the coffee held tight between her hands. “I just want him to go away. This was supposed to be our vacation, our stress-free getaway. A no crazies time.” She smiled weakly. “Hot sex in the woods time.”

  Marcella winked. “I think we had that covered last night, but I might need a refresher …”

  Tempting as it was, Lana shook her head, her smile stronger now. “Later, lover. I want to go on that hike today, get some more photos, remember? I need twenty more for my last assignment, and then I’m done!”

  Next year at this time, she would have her own show at the gallery in the city. Inspired by that, Lana stood, stooped, and ducked out of the tent. Her stomach fluttered when she thought she saw a familiar dark shape in the woods, but she realized it was just a shadow.

  Play of light. Just like my show will be.

  She was determined to push all thoughts of Icky-Nicky out of her mind. She would not allow some stranger, some creepy twit, to ruin her weekend with Marcella.

  “All right, babe, if you’re sure?”

  Lana turned to Marcella, smile bright and shining, and snapped a picture before she could argue. “Oh, I’m quite sure. Grab your stuff and let’s get moving.”

  * * *

  He watched, waiting patiently. He hadn’t meant to get caught at the water this morning, but what was done was done. Now he had plans; once the bitchdykes were gone, he was going to mess with their stuff. Maybe leave them a little message.

  The bull-dyke and the crybaby were out of sight when he finally edged his way out of the brush and into their campsite. He kicked the wood around, just for starters, then pulled five of the ten boards for the ladder off the tree, and threw them in the remains of the fire. That took a bit of time; he wasn’t as in shape as he’d thought. It was worth it though, they wouldn’t be able to get to their food.

  He began mumbling out loud, giggles interspersing with the inane babble. Finally, pictures of Lana’s body in his mind, he pulled his pants and shorts down, masturbating violently until he spunked all over their little bed.

  A man is what they need, someone to teach them better. I’m gonna fuck that little crybaby until she bleeds.

  Ten minutes later, he ejaculated again, crying this time, thinking of the mother that had abandoned him so long ago.

  * * *

  They stopped on the side of the trail for a late lunch, cheese and crackers complemented with cold water from a spring. It smelled a little, like minerals and salt, but it tasted wonderful. Lana wanted to go on hiking, even though she had her shots in. Marcella wanted to go back, so they wouldn’t be caught in the woods in the dark.

  “Even with the path, we could get lost out here,” she said. “We didn’t bring flashlights. And if there are bears out here, I don’t even have the pepper spray. It’s back at the site.”

  Lana raised an eyebrow. “Really? You?”

  Marcella flushed. “Yeah. I was distracted by your ass.” That caught Lana off guard, she saw. So, smiling wickedly, she went on. “Babe, I want to get you back to the tent so I can slide your clothes off, run my hands over your body, and …”

  “And …?”

  “We’ll have to go back to see what comes next.” She set off at a sprint, leaving Lana behind, laughing and calling foul.

  Marcella only made it a couple hundred yards before slowing down to catch her breath. She stopped at the next picnic area to wait for Lana, and finally saw the top of her head crest the little hill.

  “Took you long enough!”

  “I wasn’t running. And I was taking pictures as I went along.” She sat next to Marcella on the picnic table.

  They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the birds and insects do their bird and insect business. Soon, Lana was nuzzling Marcella’s neck, and she turned to slide her hand into Lana’s shirt. After some more easy flirting, Marcella slid down, kneeling between Lana’s legs on the bench, easing her onto her back across the table. She pushed Lana’s shirt over her belly to expose her breasts, trailing kisses across the smooth skin. Circling her tongue around an already-distended nipple, she moved her hand to rub between her lover’s legs.

  Lana’s hips rose, as did her moans. Shifting her focus, Marcella tugged at the yoga pants, drawing them down over her hips and thighs. As she wasn’t wearing underwear, Marce got right to business.

  Neither of them paid attention to the noises coming from the shrubs behind the water pump, but when stones and chunks of bark and sticks began hitting them, they jumped. Lana yanked her pants up while Marce pulled the shirt down, and they ducked for cover.

  “God sees you, you bitches! Cuntlickingmotherfuckingdykes, you’ll be sorry!” More stones pelted down on them, one hitting Marcella close to the eye. “You’ll burn, bitch, you’ll burn! He’ll start with your snatch, fire you up good and proper!”

  Marcella leaped up on the picnic table, yelling violently. She caught a glimpse of Lana’s creeper running away as fast as his stumble-bum legs could carry him. “That’s right, you little coward, you fucking worm, you better run!”

  “Marce, let’s just get back to the site, okay? I don’t feel safe now.”

  “Okay, babe. And when we get there, I’m calling the ranger.”

  * * *

  The ranger couldn’t come out to investigate until morning. Since it was already getting dark, they reluctantly made the decision to stay one more night.

  Marcella built a fire while Lana went into the tent to change. At her sharp squeal, Marce pulled the flap back so hard the corner tore. “What is it? What happened?”

  Lana held a hand over her mouth, gagging. Marcella noticed the smell then, and saw what Lana was pointing at.

  Cum. All over their sleeping bags, spread around like some twisted fuck had rolled in it. And the smell! It smelled of more than just cum, it smelled bad. Like apricots that had been left to rot in milk.

  Her own gorge rose as she pulled the ruined sleeping bags out of the tent. “We’ve still got the blankets, right?” She hoped so; she didn’t fancy a trip back to the car – in the dark and with that creepoid who knew where – especially if it meant leaving Lana alone.

  “I’ve got one in my pack, and there are two in the tent. I don’t think there’s any of that crap on them.” Lana held them up so Marcella could inspect them.

  “Nope, they’re clean. Okay, we’ll use these tonight, and tomorrow morning - no matter what - after the ranger gets here, we’re heading out.”

  “I just want to go home, Marce. This wasn’t how our week was supposed to go.”

  “I know, babe. I know.” Marcella gathered Lana into her arms again, squeezing her briefly before grabbing the sleeping bags and jamming them into a garbage bag. “We’re not even going to take these home. We’ll get new ones, doubles. Maybe we’ll even ditch the tent, what do you think? Get a new tent after the wedding? We’d talked about it before–”

  Thunk. Her world went black.

  *
* *

  Lana saw the branch connect with the back of Marcella’s head just a second too late to warn her. A scream caught in her throat. A dirty, stubby-fingered hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her backwards.

  “You filthy little rugmunching bitch, you’re going to love my dick rammed into your squeaky tight cunt. You’re gonna swallow my spunk and love it. You’re gonna grind your ass into me and beg for more. I’m gonna fuck you straight, cunt!” Nick whisper-grunted into her ear, humping at her ass like a dog. The smell of his breath, his clothes, everything, made her gag again.

  He spun her around and pushed her to her knees, waggling something she supposed was his penis. The limp piece of flesh barely poked out past the fly of his jeans. The smell of it … the odor of piss and sweat and rotten fruit and death; finally she did throw up.

  “You pussysucking whore!” he screamed, kicking her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

  Lana lay on the ground, cradling her ribs, trying to force her diaphragm to work. Between gasps of air, she was still retching, water mixed with bile making an encore appearance as drool down her chin. As she struggled to breathe, he kicked her over so she was on her belly, arms trapped beneath her, then grabbed at her pants.

  This spurred her into action. Breathing or not, scrambled away through the leaves. A knee landed on her kidney, the burst of pain a rainbow of colors behind closed eyelids. Finally, she was able to scream.

  “Shut your dirty cakehole, cunt. You’re gonna take this like the man you want to be.” Nick repositioned himself, knees against her thighs, one hand on the back of her head, the other still trying to pull her pants down, humping at her ineffectually.