Richard Laymon - The Lake

The driveway was pitch dark.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Could be anything down there…

Mommy Dearest lifted the latch, the gate creaked open, and Deana helped her inside. The hag kicked the gate shut with a resounding clash.

Deana did a double take.

That sure was some kick! Mommy Dearest musta perked up a little.

Still clutching Deana’s arm, the hag limped her way down the drive. Deana held on to Harry. He was jerking around in his blanket, making loud, snuffling noises.

Her heart hammered. Blood pounded in her ears.

Hope to God he doesn’t die on me, ’cause I really gotta go—don’t wanna miss Warren…

They halted outside a huge front door. Dry, straggly growth matted around the two columns either side.

“Jeez,” Deana breathed. “What a place! ”

The house was tall, dark, and deathly quiet. It looked like something out of a horror movie. She pictured Lurch, from The Addams Family , opening up the door…and Gomez hovering in the spooky hallway, grinning around his cigar, rubbing his hands together.

She squinted at a faded wood sign above the door.

She could just make out the words: “The Flora Dawes Rest Home for Distressed Gentlefolk.”

Deana grimaced.

This is so spooky.

Time I was gone.

Her heart beat faster.

Gotta catch up with Warren, before it’s too late.

Desperately, she wished he and Sabre were with her now.

At her side, Mommy Dearest let out a gasp. She was clutching her chest.

Deana’s heart sank.

“Maybe I should just see you inside,” she said quickly. “Then hurry on home. Promised Mom I’d be back by ten-thirty…”

With a loud groan, the door swung open. Mommy’s hand gripped Deana’s arm. She dragged her forward into the shadowy hallway.

Gray light sliced the gloom. Darkness fell as the door clanged shut. The noise echoed eerily through the house, and Deana’s heart stood still. Panic set in. A closed, musty smell met her nostrils. She’d smelled something like it in a thrift store in Sausalito—a mix of old clothes, cooking, bodies, musty books, and other junk.

As she became accustomed to the gloom, Deana saw dozens of bright eyes staring at her. It seemed like an army of dwarfs had gathered in the lobby to greet them. The dwarfs were curious. Impatient, craning their necks to get a better view.

Jesus H. Christ!

She held on to Harry and stared closer.

These aren’t dwarfs…they’re little old women!

Like one of the living dead, a wizened hag stepped forward. She reached out a scrawny, blue-veined hand…

Deana reeled back. Into the arms of Mommy Dearest.

No sign of “one of her derned attacks” now…

Like bands of steel, Mommy’s arms grabbed her.

Harry yelped, leapt out of his blanket, and scooted into the shadows.

Struggling, panicking, Deana twisted around, trying to free herself. The hag held on tight.

“No you don’t!” Her voice was high and strong.

It had an insane ring to it.

The hairs on the back of Deana’s neck crawled.

Goose bumps rose on her body.

My God, the woman’s a fucking lunatic. She’s raving mad!

Christ! How did I get into all this? I shoulda left her to die out there…Hell, I do one good turn and look where it gets me!

A horrible thought crossed her mind.

Nobody knows I’m here.

I’m trapped with all these…loonies!

“Say something, girl!” demanded a witch with an eye patch and long white hair. Deana backed away.

Mommy Dearest shoved her forward.

“Best I could do,” she told the hags. “Not too many young ’uns out on Del Mar t’night!”

“What d’ya think of Mr. President?” called out a shaky voice from the back. “Ya reckon he’s onto them delinquents throwing bombs inta classrooms yet?”

A raucous voice shouted: “Whassyername, honey?”

“Aw, give it a rest, Clarabel,” somebody said. “Can’t ya see the kid’s scared? Reckon we oughta bring her inter the back, give her a cuppa coffee ’n’ a slice of pie…”

A low mumbling filled the hallway, punctuated by hissy, whispering sounds. A shriek of laughter rang out.

The hags looked at Deana, waiting for her to speak. They were like gaunt gray vultures. Restless. Needy. Hungry, like they hadn’t seen young flesh in a long time.

Deana froze at the thought.

They came for me in a pack. I guess they could tear me to pieces.

Oh my God!

Her eyes narrowed. She gritted her teeth.

Just let them try!

The hags shifted forward.

The white-haired one taunted her.

“Don’t ya like it here, dearie? Ain’t fixin’ to leave us, are ya?”

Deana saw red. She screamed, “Bank on it, you fuckin’ old witch. I’m outa here…”

She whirled around, but Mommy Dearest grabbed her arm. “Mind ya manners, young’un,” she snarled, “Pay more respect to ya elders!”

Deana shook herself free. She glared at the hag.

What’s the bitch got against me? I did my Girl Scout thing. Helped her when she was in trouble.

I coulda left her there to die.

Wish I had now…

Boy, does this place suck…

If the bastard’s brought me here to entertain her gang of trolls, she’s gonna be mighty disappointed. Show’s over, folks. I’m outa here before I get eaten alive!

A scrawny hag in a long, cotton frock limped forward. Stretching out a knobby finger, she touched Deana’s arm. “Don’t go, dearie,” she said. “Talk to us. We won’t hurt ya none. Promise. We jest wanna see some young blood, is all. Haven’t set eyes on a youngster like you in a long, long time…Tell me…seen any good movies lately?”

The old woman’s eyes held a pleading look. She smiled, her face creasing into a network of wrinkles.

Deana gasped.

My God, I gotta get outa here!

She turned, made for the door, but with viselike fingers Mommy grabbed her again.

She was incredibly strong.

A hag at the back of the crowd elbowed her way to the front. She stroked Deana’s free arm, then plucked at her sweatshirt sleeve.

“Nice top you got there, young’un. Hey, Martha. Come an’ take a peek at this sweater. Sure ain’t Neiman Marcus, but it’s better’n the one you’re wearin’!”

Martha toddled over, her head shaking with every step. “Why, yes,” she said in a trembly voice. “You’re right there, Betty-Lou. Think I’ll have me this one. Jest my color, too.”

Betty-Lou shrieked with laughter. “Black? You aimin’ to wear it to ya funeral, Martha?”

Deana gasped. They’d take my sweater?

The bastards .

And there’d been a moment back there when I felt sorry for them!

Betty-Lou snatched at her sleeve.

She tore it down.

Exposing Deana’s bare shoulder.

Mommy Dearest hung on to her other arm.

There were whistles. Hoots of laughter. Hands tugged at the flapping black cloth. Deana’s left breast suddenly burst free.

She panicked, tearing herself away from Mommy’s iron grip. “Lemme GO!” she yelled. “HELP!!!”

“Whassamatter, dearie? Don’t ya like it here?”

The hags hadn’t enjoyed themselves so much in ages. Betty-Lou couldn’t stop cackling.

“Remember that time in Vegas, Martha? The night the lights went out at The Sands…”

Tearing herself free, kicking, shoving, knocking Mommy out of the way, Deana charged for the door.

With a triumphant yelp, she reached it, flung it open, and raced out into the night.

“Y’ain’t bein’ very friendly,” Mommy Dearest croaked after her. “Gals here only want a li’l ol’ chat. They get lonesome sometimes…”

“Hey. You like Tyrone Power?” yelled the raucous one. Her voice got carried away on the wind. Deana caught the words “He’s my favorite y’know. Did ya see The Mark of Zorro ? Well, did ya?”

“Dear God ,” Deana muttered as she ran. “What a madhouse. They plan to eat me alive, or talk me to death—they’ll have to catch me first!”

Way behind, she heard the inmates pile out of the house. They sounded bewildered. Confused. Gabbling to each other in high, tetchy voices. Going quiet as they hit the cool night air…

Deana didn’t stop till she was outside the gates. Only then did she draw to a halt, panting hard, trying to steady her breath.

Wow. I’m outa there.

Goddamn bitch!

Luring me in…

She grimaced.

Resident fuckin’ entertainer at the Zimmer City Rest Home?

Oh yeah?

Eat shit and die, you crazy old bitch!

Deana started to run uphill.

Toward Warren’s house.

THIRTY-NINE

A low growl brought her skidding to a halt.

Her heart lurched.

Sabre.

And Warren, holding Sabre’s lead, being yanked along as the dog rushed forward to greet her.

“Why, if it’s not the midnight runner! Good to see you, Deana.”

“Great to see you, too, Warren. And Sabre—how ya doin’, big boy?” She smoothed Sabre’s forehead. He got excited, danced back, then bounded forward, nudging his wet nose into her hand.

“Sure looks like he’s glad to see you again.”

“Yeah.”

His eyes were curious.

He looked at her torn sweater, at the left side of her bra gleaming white in the lamplight.

She seemed awfully upset.

He took off his fraternity warm-up and draped it around her shoulders.

“What happened to you back there?”

Deana gave a cracked sort of laugh. “ Happened? Tell you what happened, Warren. Nearly finished up as entertainer of the year, that’s what happened.”

He frowned, wanting to know more but not asking.

Laughing shakily, she held on to his arm.

“Remind me to tell you about it sometime.”

He guided her to his place, his arm around her waist. She liked the way it felt. His arms around her. His jacket around her. Making her feel warm and safe.

Most of all, safe .

Sabre trotted by Warren’s side, eyes eager and bright, his ears held high.

Guess he is glad to see me, she thought. Could have done with him when I visited the old folks’ home. He’d have come in real handy…

“Anyway, Warren,” she said, quietly, pushing the vision of distressed gentlefolk out of her mind. “Are you glad to see me?”

He stared at her quizzically, a broad smile spreading across his features. “Yes,” he said simply. “I’m very glad to see you again.”

“Came to ask if you’d like to have dinner with Mom and me sometime.” Adding, “Mom would really like to meet you.”

“Think I’d pass the grade?”

“What’s up, Warren? Running scared? You did say you’d like to see me again. And I said I might be out one night and that we could arrange something?”

He scratched his head. “Yep. I believe I do recall something along those lines…”

“Warren—are you coming to dinner at my house, or what?”

“It’ll be my pleasure, Deana. But why not use the phone? Would’ve been easier than running up here in the dark…getting…”

Mauled by Mommy Dearest’s buncha geriatric weirdos? You’re not kidding…

“’Cause I like running. Especially at night. Developed quite a taste for it, as it happens.”

“Deana. Does your mom know you’re out?”

“Get to the point, why don’t you, Warren? Matter of fact, she doesn’t. It’s just that it seems so exciting for us to meet in secret like this.”