THE TRAP

by Tabitha King

  He shivered when the cold trickle of melted snow reached the small of his back. There was snow melting on the end of his nose, and on his eyelashes. He stamped his feet and waited and listened to telephone noise, mechanical clicks and thunks, buzzing, dead air, a flurry of frantic clicking and spectral voices from other lines bleeding in, before an operator cut in to ask what number he was calling, in a brisk, impatient tone that implied he certainly was fucking it up, wasn’t he? In due course he was told the line was out of order.

  He found another quarter, paid his Wrong Change Again, Sucker, Tax, again, and dialed Walter McKenzie’s number. While he waited for the call to go through, he hauled out a big handkerchief, and shook it open.

  Walter picked it up in the middle of the second ring. “Ho,” he said.

  “Sorry to wake you up,” Pat said, and blew his nose into the handkerchief.

  “Huh?” Walter asked. “What say?”

  Pat shouted. “Sorry to wake you up.”

  There was a pause and a brief clatter. “Shit,” said Walter. Another pause. “Knocked my bifocals on the floor,” he explained. “That you, Russell?”

  “Ayuh,” said Pat. “Sorry to wake you up, Walter.”

  “Yes, yes,” Walter said. “I’m sorry you woke me up, too. Wanna tell me what you woke me up for?”

  “I can’t reach Liv,” Pat said. “Phone’s out.”

  Walter grunted. “I know. Road ain’t plowed either. Won’t be a crew down there to fix the lines until tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Pat wiped the end of his nose and stuffed his handkerchief in his pocket.

  “Look,” Walter said. “She’s got wood to keep her warm, and candles and lanterns. She’ll be okay. No need to fret. I’ll be down there first thing in the morning by snowshoe if I have to.”

  Pat nodded as if Walter could see him. He wanted to hear Walter say she’d be okay.

  “Hope they’re not too scared,” he said.

  “Oh, she don’t scare too easy, and she’ll take care of the boy,” Walter said. “Now whyn’t you go to bed? Get some sleep. Like me.”

  “Thanks, Walter,” Pat said.

  Walter hung up with a clatter.

  Pat hooked the receiver and shrugged so his collar rose a little over the back of his neck. Walter hadn’t asked where he was, let alone whether he was on his own. The motels in and around Greenspark were full of skiers during the winter holidays. Nodd’s Ridge, if they could reach it tonight, had only two small inns that closed between October and April. If they couldn’t get home to Liv and Travis tonight, they would have to turn back or sleep in his car. He was dead on his feet; he couldn’t go back. So their choices were really to go on and walk in, or sleep in the car. At least they had good boots and multiple layers of thick clothing. He rejoined Sarah in the car.

  “Walter says our phone is out, but he’s sure mom and Travis are okay. They’ve got wood and candles and plenty of food.”

  “Are we going to be able to get there tonight?” Sarah asked.

  Pat hesitated. “I want to try. Worst case is we might have to sleep in the car.”

  “Oh,” said Sarah. Then she shrugged. “Last summer I spent a night in a tent in a thunderstorm. I didn’t melt.”

  Pat leaned over to take her hand and squeeze. “Good girl,” he said. Of course the danger wasn’t melting, it was freezing.

  So they started off, slowly, toward the Pondicherry Causeway, and Nodd’s Ridge. They were on the Pondicherry Causeway when he realized, sleepily, that he couldn’t see the boulders that marked the edge of the road. He couldn’t see a goddamn thing except the snow, white and white and white.

  Chapter 12

  Liv came to on the living room couch. Travis was curled up against her, still stark naked and shivering. He was staring at her, wild-eyed. His nails bit into her arms. When she touched his white face, to wipe away tear streaks, a tremor passed through him as if he had taken an electric shock.

  Liv looked around her. The Poor was on the hearth, disposed on her side, watching Liv with bright unreadable eyes. Rand sat next to the cat, with the fire at his back. The sleeves of his heavy sweater were pushed up to the elbows, so his thermal underwear showed. His brother Ricky sprawled on the rug near him. Gordy Teed sat awkwardly in a straight chair. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, looked at it, and wiped it on his overalls. The three men had taken off their snowmobile suits and thrown them over the backs of chairs. Their boots sat on the hearth in puddles of melting snow. They were all wearing jeans and commando sweaters over thermal long underwear and woolen socks. The fire’s warmth brought out the smell of sweat from the boots and the long underwear, with a faint note of old pee underneath.

  Liv pushed herself up onto one elbow. “My boy’s cold,” she said.

  “Get a blanket off a bed,” Rand said to Ricky. Ricky scrambled up and disappeared.

  Rand turned to Gordy. “Get that jug,” he said. Gordy jumped and scuttled for the kitchen.

  “And some glasses,” Rand called after him.

  Ricky reappeared with the quilt from Travis’ bed. He offered it awkwardly to Liv. She snatched it one-handed, holding Travis with the other, and bundled him into it. She glared at Rand.

  Her feistiness excited him.

  Gordy came back with the jug of Gallo and a stack of juice glasses.

  Rand examined the glasses critically before taking two of them. Gordy scuttled back to his chair.

  Rand crossed the room and crouched next to Liv to offer her a small glass of red wine.

  “Come on,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”

  She took it. Rand passed the jug to Ricky, who raised it at once to his mouth. Rand poked him in the kidneys.

  “Ow,” he said, “that hurt, Rand.” But he lowered the jug. “Gimme a glass, asshole,” he demanded of Gordy.

  Gordy started, looked at the glasses he was holding, and passed one hastily to Ricky. Ricky sat down on the floor again, using the hearth for a backrest. When Gordy held out the remaining empty glass, Ricky slopped wine into it and then cradled the jug in his crotch.

  “Good,” Rand said. He spoke softly and earnestly. He settled himself more comfortably on his haunches and tucked his hands together between his thighs. “Sorry we scared you. But you shoulda let us in. A man could freeze to death out there tonight.” He rebuked her with a smile. “It wasn’t very neighborly of you, O-liv-i-a.”

  Liv took another swallow of the wine. It was harsh, but it warmed her, loosened her throat. “You’re not my neighbor,” she said. “You’re a barbarian.”

  Rand threw back his head and laughed. “Ain’t I trying to be nice to you?”

  Liv drew Travis a little closer. “You’ve frightened my little boy seriously, twice now. You’ve assaulted me twice. You’ve broken into my home twice.”

  “Yeah,” Rand said. “You got shitty locks on your windows, you know,” he confided, as if he held an especially created town office, Public Locktester.

  Ricky Nighswander sniggered and filled his glass again.

  Liv closed her eyes wearily. Travis squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. There was a nagging ache in her jaw. She felt bruised all over. She had to try for the best deal she could make. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

  “Look,” she said to Rand. “You’re inside now. I don’t want you here but there’s nothing I can do to make you go away. All I can do is ask you to act like civilized human beings while you’re here. I don’t want my boy scared anymore. So you let us be, let us go about our normal routine, and I won’t make a fuss when this is over. I won’t make any complaints about breaking and entering or assault.”

  Rand rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Can’t ask for a better deal than that, O-liv-i-a.” He looked around at Ricky and Gordy. “Right, boys?”

  “Right,” Gordy echoed.

  “Yeah,” said Ricky. Ricky rolled over on his back. “I’m hungry,” he said to the ceiling.

  Rand looked expectantly at Liv. “Spare us so
me grub, O-liv-i-a?”

  Liv sat up. Travis clung to her. She kept one arm around his waist. “First things first. I want to get Travis into his pajamas. Then I’ll feed you.”

  “Good enough,” said Rand.

  Liv rearranged the blanket around Travis. She stood up slowly and carefully, still holding him close, fighting dizziness. Rand Nighswander reached out to help her. She pulled instinctively away from him.

  “I’m all right,” she said.

  “Suit yourself,” he said, and smiled at Travis, as if sharing a joke with him.

  Liv wanted very badly to smash some gaps in his even white teeth. Instead she stiffened her spine and led Travis down the hallway toward his room.

  Behind her, Rand said, “Ricky, check the place out.”

  She swung around angrily. Ricky and Gordy were on their feet, poised to be about Rand’s business.

  “Don’t go breaking anything,” Rand instructed them. “Don’t worry about it, O-liv-i-a. I just don’t want no surprises, is all.”

  “If I had a gun here,” Liv said, “believe me, I’d have used it already.”

  Rand smiled indulgently and waved Ricky and Gordy on. They headed toward her bedroom.

  She took Travis’ hand and headed toward his room. Rand followed them, as if they needed his protection. The hallway seemed suddenly longer and darker. With each step forward, they grew colder. Travis’ towels were a tangled heap outside his bedroom door. Even while forcing herself forward, Liv had to herd Travis along. He dragged his feet and kept a deathgrip on the leg of her jeans. When she reached his bedroom, she let him fall back. She nudged open the door, telling herself there was no one in there, the monsters had already shown themselves, and they were behind her. E.T.’s heartlight glowed next to the dark catafalque shape of Travis’ bed. The cold made her shiver. She thrust her arm into the near-dark, found the switchplate, and turned on the light.

  The room revealed seemed naked and small. The one window was wide open, the sill crusted with slush from the boots that had passed over it. Snow blew in on the carpet and melted there. The wind shook out the curtains and turned the pages of comic books that Travis had left on the floor. The electrical baseboard heaters crackled and clanked, trying to compete with the cold.

  Liv crossed the room quickly and shut the window. The lock was distorted where it had been forced, the wood of the window’s frame splintered.

  Travis watched her, peeking around the door frame. She gave him a quick smile, braver than she really felt.

  She took footed Dr. Dentons out of a dresser drawer, Travis’ plaid blanket kimono from its hook inside the closet door, plucked his slippers from next to his bed and his old baby blanket from under his pillow. Rand Nighswander watched her every move from the doorway. The smile on his face was like a cat waiting by a mousehole. She stepped past him quickly, switching off the light, closing the door behind her. Travis grabbed her leg. She took his hand and led him into the bathroom, picking up the abandoned towels on the way.

  “It’s warmer in here,” she said.

  It was, but not by much. Rand stood in the open door again. Travis even consented to her helping with the snaps on his pajamas. She took every excuse she could find to touch him, cuddle him, hug him, trying to comfort and reassure him wordlessly. While he shuffled into his slippers and put on his kimono, she picked his G.I. Joes out of the tub and bundled them into the damp bathmat. She helped him put them into the pockets of his kimono, then quickly straightened the bathroom, putting the bathmat, the towels and washcloth, and Travis’ discarded clothing into the hamper.

  The kitchen was too narrow to allow both Rand Nighswander and Travis to shadow her every move. She loosened Travis’ grip on her leg and boosted him into his usual chair at the kitchen table. Rand stopped at the threshold, produced smoking materials from the rolled sleeves of his sweater, lit a cigarette, and propped himself against the door frame.

  Liv dumped Chicken Soup With Noodles into a pot and put it on the stove. She slapped tuna sandwiches together. Whenever she looked up, Travis was watching her with woebegone eyes. She didn’t need to look at Rand; she could feel him watching her. Needing to do something, anything, to keep busy, she took down the Nestlé’s Walter had thoughtfully, perhaps sentimentally, provided, and made cocoa from scratch. It took a lot of stirring.

  Ricky and Gordy shuffled in to report they had found nothing. Rand dismissed them.

  “There’s not room enough to feed everyone at this table,” she said to Rand, when everything was ready. “Why don’t I feed Travis here and bring you trays in the living room?”

  Rand frowned at his cigarette and flicked it into the sink. It sizzled and went out. He wasn’t so soft-headed he was going to allow either of them out of his sight. Maybe she didn’t want the kid around Ricky and Gordy, in case they did a number on his head or something, but that was just tough. “Sure, O-liv-i-a. I’ll help you. But don’t make the little guy eat by himself. Let’s bring his grub in with ours.”

  Liv bit her lip and stirred the cocoa. The thought of breaking bread with these creeps revolted her. She didn’t want Travis to have to be in the same room with them. But it looked like she couldn’t get them out of it.

  In the living room, Ricky had opened the cabinets again and scattered tape cartridges over the rug. He jumped when he saw Rand and dropped the tape he was holding.

  “Lemme help,” he said and scrambled up, putting distance between himself and the incriminating evidence.

  Rand growled at him. “You stupid—”

  Ricky showed Liv all his teeth. “Sure got a lot of movies here, Olivia,” he said.

  “He’s gonna pick ‘em up,” Rand said to Liv.

  Liv ignored them. She nudged Travis back onto the couch, and set up a TV tray in front of him.

  “Can we watch a movie?” Ricky asked.

  “Sure,” Liv said. “Why not?” She was almost grateful to him for the idea. No one would be watching her for a little while, and she wouldn’t have to watch them. They could all get lost for an hour and a half or so.

  “Good,” said Gordy Teed, with his mouth full.

  Revolted, Liv picked at her own food and then pushed it away.

  Ricky worked his way through the entire collection of tapes, sandwich in one hand, mechanically chopping out huge bites. Frequently he stopped and studied the title, then mouthed it silently.

  At least he cleared his mouth first.

  Rand wolfed two sandwiches, drank the cocoa, and put his chicken soup down on the hearth. The Poor approached it cautiously and began to lap at it. Rand watched her a minute, then pushed her away. He picked up the soup and offered it to Gordy. “More here than I can put away. Want this, Gordy?”

  Gordy took the bowl, settled it into his empty one, and slurped it up.

  Rand picked up The Poor and began to stroke her.

  Ricky fanned half a dozen tapes in front of Rand. “What about one of these, Rand?”

  Rand shrugged and looked at Liv. “Ask O-liv-i-a.”

  Ricky scuttled to Liv’s side and showed her. “You like any of these, O-liv-i-a.”

  Assault on Precinct 13, Dirty Harry, I the Jury. She thought of more appropriate titles she could add. Silent Rage. Straw Dogs.

  “I don’t think any of them is suitable for Travis,” she said. “If you’re going to watch these, I could take him in my bedroom and read to him.”

  Ricky sulked.

  “Got any cartoons?” Gordy Teed asked and was ignored.

  “No,” said Rand. “We’ll all stay right here. Play that Dirty Harry one. I’ve seen it. It ain’t sexy. Just a cop movie. Drive-in was full of little kids that night.”

  Travis nudged Liv and whispered, “I’ve seen that one, too. It’s okay, Liv.”

  Liv gave in. Travis needed to be distracted, too.

  “What’s this?” Ricky asked, and showed her a tape marked Firefight, Partial Rough Cut.

  Impulsively, Liv reached out and took it. Pat.

  �
��Piece of the movie my husband’s making,” she said.

  “All right!” Ricky exclaimed. “What’s it about?”

  “Gross bloody killings,” Travis said. “It’s about army guys. My father made it up. He’s in it, too. He gets killed. But it’s just pretend.”

  Liv squeezed Travis’ knee. He looked up at her and smiled wanly.

  “No shit, man,” Ricky said. “I gotta check this shit out.” He looked at Rand hopefully. “Maybe we could have some of that nose candy while the show’s on?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Rand said. “You got the wine already.”

  Ricky shrugged. Rand always kept the best stuff for himself. He didn’t expect Rand would be sharing the woman, either. Unless she wasn’t much good anyway. What Rand called a fuckaroody. He’d only shared Loretta Buck because she was so drunk and scared it was like fucking a sofa cushion.

  “Check it out,” Gordy Teed said. “I like war stuff. Sometimes war stuff is as good as cartoons,” he added thoughtfully.

  “Shut up, asshole,” Ricky said.

  “Watch your mouth, Ricky,” Rand snapped.

  Ricky peeked at Liv from under his chorus girl lashes. “Sorry,” he muttered, then looked at Rand.

  He examined the tape player. “How’s this thing go?” he asked.

  “I can do it,” Travis said, and slid off the couch. “Like this.” He punched On, then the Eject button. Ricky handed him the first tape. Travis inserted it and pushed the tape platform down.

  “Now you have to have the TV on,” he said. “Then press the button with the green stripe.”

  Ricky nodded. “This one?” he asked, and pointed it out.

  “Yeah.” Travis scooted back to Liv and snuggled up against her. For the moment, he had forgotten to be afraid. It was Pat’s doing, his movie, the mention of him, that had done it. Somehow that seemed important.

  Chapter 13