THE TRAP

by Tabitha King

  “Just wait ‘til I’m done here,” Rand said.

  There was a built-in dresser and vanity that took up one whole wall. Rand pulled out drawers, looked into them, and then threw them on the floor. He found nothing.

  He turned to the closet that took up the opposite wall. A few old clothes hung inside plastic bags. He rattled the bags, unzipped them, groped the clothes. A stack of shelves stood at one end. Straw hats, an old hairdryer, a retired electric shaver, an old airline shaving kit occupied a tier of shelves at one end. Rand shuffled quickly through the oddments, until he reached the shaving kit. Fly the Friendly Skies was printed on the sides. He opened it, patted the interior, and was rewarded.

  “Hot damn,” he said.

  He fingered the lining until he felt the loose edge he was sure would be there, then tore it open.

  “What you got?” Ricky asked.

  Rand thrust his fingers into the lining and pulled out a foil-wrapped package the size of a package of soup mix.

  “It might be a rubber for the Jolly Green Giant,” Rand said, “but I don’t think so.”

  Ricky skittered across the room to get a closer look.

  Rand peeled back the foil. He threw back his head and howled with delight.

  The rising wind whipped stinging snow into their eyes as the Nighswander brothers and Gordy Teed paralleled the shoreline a few dozen yards out on the lake, forcing them to proceed at a slower rate. The brothers had customized the snowmobiles for brute speed, so the machines racketed and coughed, unhappy at less than all out. The traveling surface at least was still good. A few hours of this kind of snow and the machines would bog down in the soft drifts.

  The short day was being shortened further by the onset of the snowstorm. The sky seemed to be closing in on them, sucking up all the light so that the shoreline was increasingly blurred, and they had to put on headlights. With the light went the elusive warmth, and they felt the chill even through the thick snowmobile suits and their long underwear. The sight of the Russells’ house was an unspoken relief, a shelter from the storm. They brought the machines ashore and dismounted. All hunched over against the wind, they hurried toward the lake-facing deck of the house. It wasn’t until they had mounted the steps and were crunching across the deck that they realized there was a light on inside.

  Rand raised one hand and stopped them in their tracks.

  “It’s just one of them timed lights,” Ricky whispered. “Make you think somebody’s ta home.”

  Rand shook his head. He sniffed the air. “You’ve been jerking off so much, you’ve gone foolish,” he said. “Don’t you smell the woodsmoke?”

  Ricky sniffed the air. So did Gordy. They looked at each other.

  “That’s woodsmoke awright,” Gordy observed.

  “Go round the other side,” Rand said to Ricky. “See if there’s anything parked in the driveway.”

  Ricky stood where he was. “This ain’t safe,” he said. “Daddy’d have your ass for trying a place where somebody was ta home.”

  Rand peered in the sliding glass doors. He smiled at what he saw. “Daddy ain’t here,” he said. “He’s sitting on his fat ass by the fire, bending his elbow with Jeannie.”

  Staring at the deck, sneaking nervous peeks at Rand and Ricky, Gordy began to mutter under his breath about the implied slur on his mother. He shuffled his feet and rubbed his gloved hands together.

  The Nighswander brothers ignored him. Ricky hesitated another moment, then went to do as he was bid. He was back in a hurry, patently relieved.

  “Driveway’s been plowed, and there’s old tracks, snow’s filling ‘em up now. No car there.”

  Rand nodded.

  “Somebody’s been here and gone,” Ricky said.

  “But they’ll be back,” Rand said. “They’ve gone out on an errand.”

  “No,” Ricky said. “I think they’re really gone.”

  Rand looked at him. He unzipped his suit, and reached inside for his cigarettes. “They left the fuckin’ cat,” he said.

  That shut Ricky up a minute. Gordy giggled. Ricky shuffled his feet on the deck.

  “Then let’s get the fuck outta here,” Ricky said. “ ‘Fore they get back.”

  Rand grinned at him. “I want to have a look around first. Don’t you know whose place this is?”

  Ricky grinned back. “Russell, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Rand said. “I’d like to have a pair of her drawers, see?”

  Ricky and Gordy looked at each other. Ricky snickered.

  Rand tried the sliding glass door. It resisted, then slid open.

  “Hot damn,” he said. “She knowed I was coming, and left the door open for me.”

  The other two followed him inside. They left the door open behind them. Snow blew in and sprinkled the aged Oriental rug that covered the living room floor. Instantly it melted into the tight wool. On one side of the room, floor-to-ceiling shelves housed books and tapes. Some of the shelves had been made into cupboards with the addition of small sliding doors. There was a comfortable, brightly patterned couch, an elderly platform rocker, a bulky old chair with a standing lamp next to it. An old rolltop oak desk filled one corner. A low table with a pack of cards scattered over its glass top squatted on brass casters in front of the fire. The fieldstone fireplace had several niches in it. There were handmade pots displayed in all but one, which was tall and narrow as if for a vase, but it housed instead a Peach kaleidoscope.

  The Poor, curled up on the hearth, where the fire was banked but still glowed, opened one eye. She uncoiled herself, stretched, and yowled plaintively.

  “Nice kitty,” said Gordy. He held out his hand toward her. She licked his palm with her rough pink tongue. He giggled.

  Ricky slid open one of the sliding doors in the bookcase, revealing a VCR. “Lookee, lookee,” he said. He flicked open the door just below it. “And here’s the tube.”

  Rand grunted, and disappeared down the hallway toward the children’s bedrooms. It took only a moment for him to check them out before he was back again and went into the short hallway that led to the master bedroom. He noted the single suitcase tucked behind the bedroom door, peeked in at the bathroom, and saw but one toothbrush and a neatly arranged clear plastic sack of makeup, a bottle of perfume, a frilly shower cap. He flipped the lid of the wicker hamper in the bathroom and rummaged quickly through it, hooking out a pair of panties. They were some navy blue silky material, and very bare. Smiling, he tucked them into his snowmobile suit. He rummaged quickly through every drawer in the two dressers, and the nighttables on either side of the bed, and found no more treasures. Then he tried the bed, sitting on its edge, bouncing the mattress gently with one hand.

  “Bet she fucks like a mink,” he said softly.

  He wished he had time to whack off on it, leave her a calling card. Next time, baby, he promised himself.

  When he came back into the living room, Ricky was putting a tape into the machine.

  “Looka this,” Ricky said. “They got some wicked good tapes.”

  Tapes had been removed from their shelves next to the TV and scattered over the couch and floor.

  Rand moved so swiftly Ricky had no time even to flinch before his brother’s hand on the back of his head drove his forehead into one of the shelves.

  “You stupid fuck,” Rand said. “Get those fucking tapes off the floor.”

  Ricky rubbed his forehead and stumbled around the room, scrabbling frantically for the tapes and whining.

  Gordy came out of the kitchen, carrying a dusty gallon jug of Gallo Hearty Burgundy and wearing a huge grin, which disappeared instantly at the sight of Rand’s face, and Ricky’s fumbling.

  “She’s liable to be back any minute. We might not have time to unhook this shit and get it outta the house before she does. I figure to hit this place when they ain’t nobody here,” Rand said. “So don’t you jerk-offs touch nothing, or when we come back, there won’t be nothing here to take. They’ll clean it out.”


  Gordy looked uncertainly at the jug of wine.

  “Put it back, asshole,” Ricky growled.

  Gordy shrugged and wandered back into the kitchen.

  “What about them panties?” Ricky said sullenly. “I know you got ‘em. You was in there long enough.”

  “Last thing she’ll think is somebody came in and took ‘em. She’ll think they dropped behind somethin’ or the washing machine ate ‘em,” Rand said.

  “Wisht I was the washing machine,” Ricky said and snickered.

  Going out hadn’t been too difficult in the Pacer. Its studded tires and wide-based stability increased Liv’s confidence in it. Coming back, there was a lot more new snow, and more falling, to grease the way. She found herself babying the Pacer down the slopes and around the curves. She had a strangle grip on the wheel, and was hunched over it, peering at the road ahead.

  Travis as always sensed her tightening up before she did. He leaned over the backseat, watching the road with her.

  “Tough, huh, Liv?” he asked.

  She pushed her shoulders back and down to ease the tension. “It’s no piece of cake,” she admitted.

  He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We can walk home if we have to and Walter will get the car out if you crash it up.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to try not to.”

  It seemed to take forever, and she felt like she had rolled a boulder up a steep hill by the time they arrived at their own driveway. She decided on the spur of the moment she had pushed her luck all she wanted; they would walk down the hill to the house. She and Travis were both dressed for the weather; she had never forgotten her father’s dictum that in the Maine winter, it took a professional fool to go out bootless and half-dressed, trusting to the shelter of an automobile. There was always the chance a body would be forced to motivate on its own two feet through snow and ice.

  “End of the line,” she said to Travis, and pulled the car to a stop in the widening of the road at the top of the driveway.

  Travis sighed and began to collect scattered G.I. Joes and stuff them in his pocket. Liv collected the small bag of groceries and helped Travis out of the car. He let go of her hand as soon as his feet were on the ground. It was better that way. If one of them slipped and fell, there was no need for the other to do it, too, which would surely happen if they linked hands. As it was, they had to pick their way cautiously, in the growing dark, not talking to each other, concentrating on staying upright, homing on the house.

  Snow always made Liv cheerful. Partly, she thought, it was because it made the world clean and beautiful and spanking new. The air was charged with its cold, crystalline sweetness and it roused her. She wanted to roll around in it. As soon as she had deposited the milk and orange juice in the refrigerator, she decided, she would turn on the floodlights in the yard and take Travis back outside so they could slide down the driveway. She was glad she had left the car at the top of the hill. It would be a treat for Travis, playing out of doors in the almost-dark. He would go to bed tired, and with roses in his cheeks.

  She did take his hand again when they reached the steps of the back porch, and he smiled up at her. She had gotten them home safe, and it made her happier to know she had fulfilled his trust in her. That weird moment in the woods when she thought she might have lost him and he had sprung at her, and then the difficult drive home, had the compensatory effect of reinforcing her happiness.

  She opened the door and stepped into the hall ahead of him. By the light of the lamp she had left on in the living room, she saw the three men moving toward the deck doors. In weird chorus, their heads turned to look at her, surprise flickering there and then something else, a predatory gleam, and she knew who they were, and understood she had surprised them, and she was afraid. Without thinking about it, she stepped between them and the sight of Travis, and shoved him backward toward the door with her bottom.

  “Liv!” he exclaimed in exasperation.

  She had lost the edge of surprise. The three men started to move toward her.

  She whirled and grabbed Travis and barreled through the open back door and across the porch.

  There were hands snatching at her, heavy bodies close behind her breathing hard, and fingers snatching her cap, then tangled in her hair, jerking her head backward, hurting her, and throwing her off balance. She stumbled and fell down the stairs, still carrying Travis, who was screaming, and there was someone on top of both of them, falling with them. Pain flashed in her elbows rapping hard on the snow-slippery steps. She hit a shoulder, scraped her chin, and Travis was torn away from her.

  “No!” she screamed, and a hand cupped her chin and drove her head backward into the snow. She stared up at Rand Nighswander. Then he punched her in the stomach, and she curled up, the breath knocked out of her, and retched into the snow.

  “What you want to run for?” she heard him asking softly, and behind him, Travis screaming and struggling and being cursed by one of the others.

  He helped her to her feet. She was dizzy and staggered and he caught her and picked her up. He carried her up the steps again and into the house and settled her gently onto the couch. She tried to sit up, and he put one big hand flat on her sternum and pushed her back down.

  “Relax,” he said.

  He turned around and addressed the one who had Travis, the one who looked like him. His brother.

  “Put the kid down,” he said.

  Travis was loose and across the room and clinging to her at once. He was sobbing, and shaking with fright. She gathered him close to her, her own pain and fear put aside in the need to soothe and comfort him.

  Rand took the chair from the desk, turned it around, and sat in it, resting his arms on the back. “We had some trouble with our machines,” Rand said. “Saw your woodsmoke and thought we could use your phone, but you weren’t here. We tried the door in case you were and didn’t hear us. It was open. We got warmed up and was just leaving.”

  “You punched me,” Liv said.

  Rand smiled. “I am sorry about that. Truth is, you scared the bejesus outta me. I figured you was going to start screaming and getting us in trouble. You didn’t give me a chance to explain, see?”

  Liv closed her eyes. If she pretended to believe the lie, would they go away? She was outnumbered and outmuscled. It wouldn’t do her any good not to play this game.

  “All right,” she said, avoiding his eye. “No lasting harm done. But you’d better go along now. You’ve scared my boy,” she said, trying to sound more rueful than accusatory.

  Rand got up and put the chair back. Gordy was sitting on the hearth, stroking the cat. Ricky leaned against the mantel, chewing on his nails. Rand reached into his snowsuit for his cigarettes. The panties came with them. He grabbed them as they floated toward the floor, trying to palm them but Liv was faster.

  She felt Travis lift his face from between her breasts. She stared at the panties, and blushed furiously. “How dare you?” she blurted.

  Rand’s hand fell over hers, holding the blue panties. He covered her hand entirely and crushed it in his so she instinctively pulled away, but still he held on.

  “It was easy,” he said.

  Travis’ head dropped forward onto Rand’s hand over hers and he sank his teeth into it.

  Rand bellowed and struck Travis with the back of his hand. She rolled Travis behind her onto the sofa, and came up after Rand, with a wail of rage.

  “You bastard,” she screamed, and went for his face, slapping his ears and using her nails.

  He backhanded her, driving her back onto the couch.

  Travis had come up from under her, and he hurtled himself past his mother at Rand. Ricky Nighswander seized him from behind, and tossed him casually onto his back on the rug, knocking the wind out of him. There was a gleam at the corner of Travis’ eye and then he felt the razor edge of Ricky’s knife at his throat, as Ricky crouched over him. When Travis rolled his eyes to see where Ricky was, he could see the third man, the one wh
o looked stupid, crouched on the hearth. The stupid man was watching them with wide-open blank eyes, his mouth open, too, so he was drooling a little. The cat, squeezed in his hands, squeaked, and he looked at her, surprised.

  The sounds of scuffling stopped at once. Travis could hear his mother sobbing, and the heavy breathing of the man with the crooked lip.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she said.

  “Settle down,” the man said. “We ain’t going to hurt the kid. Let ‘m up.”

  The sharp edge was gone, though his throat felt suddenly very stiff and sore, and he realized he had been holding his breath. Rough hands jerked him to his feet and he was thrust toward his mother. He hid his face in her belly.

  Liv sank back onto the couch, holding Travis. “Please go away,” she said.

  “Sure,” said Rand. “Just you remember this.”

  She looked up at him. “What?”

  “Nothing happened here,” he said.

  She stared at him, then lowered her eyes. “Nothing happened here.”

  Rand nudged Ricky. “Move it,” he said.

  Gordy put down the cat. “Nice kitty,” he said. “Nice kitty.”

  Ricky came up behind him and slapped the back of his head. “Move it, Rand says.”

  Gordy rubbed the back of his head. “Okay, okay.”

  He went through the door first, followed by Ricky, who booted him in the rear as he went out. Gordy stumbled across the deck. Ricky roared with delight.

  “Shut up,” Rand said, and Ricky shut up and hustled away across the deck into the snow-filled darkness.

  Snow swirled out of the dark and into the living room through the open door.

  Rand stopped in the door to look back. “Don’t forget,” he said.

  Liv nodded.

  Then he was gone.

  “Stay there,” she said to Travis. She jumped up and slammed the door closed and locked it. She drew the curtains across the glass. Then she ran to the back door and locked that. She ran from room to room, checking the window locks. When she was sure everything that would lock was locked, she hurried back to the living room, and hugged Travis.

  “We’re safe now. Okay?”