No Sanctuary

by Richard Laymon

  “Oh, hell yes.” She drank some more coffee. It was hot and good. “I could knock a ball a mile. I just couldn’t lay my mitt on it.”

  “Do you still like to play ball?”

  “You being a wiseguy?”

  Jerry smiled and they lapsed into silence. It was getting darker now.

  “And now? I mean, what do you do now?” he asked.

  Here it comes. Story time again, folks.

  “Do? In my spare time? Well, I don’t play bounce-or-fly, that’s for sure!”

  Jerry raised his eyebrows. Did he detect a challenge in her tone? If so, he wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue the matter of her spare-time activities anymore. They had something good going here, and he didn’t want to mess up.

  She winked, threw him a quizzical smile and said, “I scribble.”

  “Scribble?”

  “Sure. I scribble. Anything that comes to mind, really. Anything and everything. I have this wild, untamable imagination, and when I get bored with life, I just, well ... scribble ...”

  “Okay. So you scribble. Do you often get bored?”

  “Yep. Pretty often.”

  “You bored now?”

  Nope.

  “Good. I would hate to think ...”

  “Jerry. Stop it. I’m having a great time. You’re the perfect host,” she laughed. “And I couldn’t be less bored. Honestly. So please, let’s drop it.”

  Jerry laughed. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking we might head over to a park sometime. I could pitch, you could hit.”

  “Like after dinner some night? That’d be neat. Of course, if you’re into reliving childhood games, there never was anything as good as hide-and-seek. The hiding part, that’s what I liked. Forget being ‘it.’ I loved to run off and duck into places that were small and dark where they’d never find you. It was always a little scary if you found a good place. I remember how my heart used to pound. Like I was afraid I’d get grabbed by something while I was waiting.”

  “It was always such a let-down,” Jerry said, “when they gave up looking.”

  “Right. It’s not that you wanted to be found, but you didn’t want to be abandoned.”

  “Remember what a drag it was when you’d hear your parents calling your name? You knew it was time to go in.”

  “That’s one of the great things about being an adult. Nobody to stop your fun.” Gillian’s heart started pounding hard. “Speaking of fun,” she said through a tightness that had suddenly squeezed her throat.

  Jerry raised his eyebrows and waited.

  “Why don’t we go swimming?”

  He beamed. “Hell, yes. What about your injury, though?”

  “I’m just skinned a little. The water will probably feel good.”

  “Great. But wasn’t your bikini wrecked?”

  “I’ll go in in my skivvies.”

  “Skivvies?”

  “My bra and panties. If you will.” She shrugged and smiled.

  She took a sip of coffee. She had trouble swallowing it. “That sound all right to you?”

  “This is the same Gillian O’Neill who was here this afternoon and didn’t want to be seen in a bikini?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “This is a Gillian who’s gotten to know you better.”

  “And who’s had a few mai-tais.”

  “I’m perfectly sober. Somewhat sober. Besides, it’s dark now. Of course, if you’re too bashful ...”

  “I’ll go in and get the towels,” he said. He took a final drink of coffee, then pushed his chair away from the table, got up, and went into the house.

  Gillian was relieved that he’d left. She suspected that he’d gone for the towels as a ploy to let her undress in privacy. Decent of him. She had thought she would have to strip in front of him, and had rather looked forward to it, but this made it easier.

  She stood up. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her blouse and took it off. She folded it and placed it on the seat of her chair. Then she stepped out of her sandals. She lowered her shorts, stepped out of them, and dropped them onto her blouse.

  The warm breeze roamed her body. She felt naked. Looking down at herself, she supposed that the black bra and panties were no more revealing than her bikini had been. Though the bra had lace cups, the darkness of the night prevented much from showing.

  Still, she thought. This isn’t a bikini, this is undies.

  Jerry might have been right about the mai-tais.

  Too late to back down now.

  Who wants to back down? she asked herself.

  She felt daring. It reminded her of the way she used to get when she broke into houses. The feverish thrill of the break-ins had diminished over the past couple of years, so that recently it had been little more than a faint stir of excitement. Not like this. This was intense. Her heart was slamming. Her mouth was dry. Her nipples ached under the soft touch of the bra. Her panties were clinging in front.

  She looked at the lighted kitchen door. No sign of Jerry.

  Reaching back with one hand, she peeled off her bandage. She set it down on her shorts.

  Then she stepped to the edge of the pool and dove in. The cold of the water was a harsh shock for an instant. Then it felt fine. It felt better than fine, caressing her everywhere as she glided along below the surface. When her fingertips touched the tiles at the far side, she came up.

  She swam toward the shallow end. Finding the bottom with her feet, she stood up. The water covered her to the neck.

  Jerry opened the sliding door and stepped out, holding towels in his arms. “You’re already in,” he said. “I missed the show.”

  “Tough toenails,” Gillian said. Then she gritted her teeth to stop the tremor in her jaw.

  Jerry dropped the towels onto the table. “So you just get to stay in there and watch me?” he asked.

  “That’s the picture.”

  Shaking his head, he sat down on a chair and took off his shoes and socks. Then he stood and removed his shirt.

  “Maybe you could turn on the patio lights,” Gillian suggested.

  “Yucka yucka,” he said. He unbuckled his belt, opened the waist button of his trousers, and slid the zipper down.

  “We could use some stripper music,” Gillian said.

  He pulled his trousers down.

  Gillian thought he was wearing boxer shorts, but a white cord hung over the elastic waistband.

  “That’s a swimming suit!” she blurted. “Cheat! Cheat!”

  Jerry shrugged. “No reason we should both embarrass ourselves.”

  “Creep! Heel! Scab!”

  Laughing, he said, “Okay, okay,” and pulled down the trunks. He was wearing something white and scanty.

  “Is that a swimming suit, too?” Gillian asked.

  “Nope. I swear.”

  “Better not be. We had a deal.”

  “How do I know you don’t have a suit on?”

  “Just have to take my word for it.”

  Turning away, he walked toward the house. He stopped at a switch plate on the wall. His arm went up. The water surrounding Gillian was suddenly illuminated by lights below the surface.

  She looked down at herself. Her breasts and bra were distinct in the shimmering light, the lower areas of her body slightly blurred.

  “How’s that?” Jerry called, his hand still on the switch. “Or would you prefer it dark?”

  “This is nice,” she said.

  He walked toward the pool. He stopped at its edge and rubbed his hands together. “How’s the water?” he asked.

  “It won’t kill you.”

  Balancing on one foot, he crouched a bit and dipped his toes in. The light from the pool fluttered on him. He looked lean and strong. His brief shorts hugged his hips. His penis, bulging against the thin fabric, looked as if it might thrust its way up through the waistband.

  He seemed very nonchalant as he took his foot out of the water and rubbed his hands together again. Doesn’t he realize? Gillian wondered. Of course he does.
And he knows I’m watching. He must want me to see, want me to know he’s turned on.

  He took a deep breath, then leaped from the side in a low powerful dive that took him far out over the water before he knifed in with barely a splash. He was a pale streak below the surface for a moment. Then he came up at the wall and gripped its edge. “Not bad,” he said, “after the first shock.”

  Gillian nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. It would probably come out shaking.

  Jerry stayed where he was, hanging onto the edge of the pool several yards away.

  Gillian stayed where she was, too.

  This is silly, she thought Say something. Do something.

  “Let’s see one of those fancy dives,” Jerry said.

  “Oh, sure thing.” She was right. Her voice shook when she spoke. “You just want me to lose my pants again.”

  “Never crossed my mind.” Jerry pushed himself away from the wall. He kicked and stroked his way slowly backward, but he headed straight for the other side instead of approaching Gillian.

  Don’t just stand here like a jerk, she told herself.

  Leaning forward, she left her feet. She did the breast stroke toward the deep end, keeping her face out of the water and gazing at Jerry as she glided closer to him. He had stopped short of the wall. Treading water, he watched her go by.

  “That isn’t your bikini,” he said.

  “That’s right.” Under the diving board, she turned around to face him. She kicked hard, reached high, and caught an edge of the board with one hand. Pulling herself up, she clutched the other side of the board. She hung there, out of the water to her waist. The air felt chilly on her wet skin.

  Jerry stared at her.

  She let go with one hand. Dangling under the board, she pawed her side with a floppy hand, stuck her chin out, and grunted like an ape.

  Jerry didn’t crack a smile.

  “You’re not amused?” Gillian asked.

  “Me Tarzan,” he said, and lunged at her.

  Gillian yelped. She clutched the board with her other hand, pulled herself up and raised her legs. She kicked water at Jerry. He grabbed one of her ankles. “Don’t you da—!” He tugged. She lost her hold. Dropping rump-first, she took a deep breath.

  She kept her eyes open. At first, she saw only white froth. Then Jerry was above her. His eyes were open, too. His mouth was shut, but curled up at the comers in a mischievous grin.

  He was above her, not touching her, just gazing down and grinning. He waved. Then he twisted around and began swimming away, still under the surface.

  Gillian went after him.

  She gained on him.

  She grabbed his foot. A pull sent her rushing forward over the backs of his legs. She hooked the fingers of her other hand under the band of his shorts, but let go as he rolled and looked up at her.

  His impish grin was gone.

  He reached up to her. His hands stroked the sides of her head, slid down along her neck and caressed her shoulders. Gillian ran her hands lightly down his forearms.

  Letting go of him, she swam forward. She felt his touch all the way down her body as she glided over him. The she twisted around and stood and gulped air.

  Jerry came up.

  They faced each other.

  The water was as high as Gillian’s neck.

  Jerry moved into her arms. They held each other. They were both gasping, and didn’t kiss.

  “Tarzan,” she said. She looked into his eyes. His wet lashes made tiny points.

  “Jane?” he asked.

  “Gillian and Jerry,” she whispered.

  She hugged him tightly. He was warm and smooth and hard.

  Chapter Eighteen

  We just need to get through tonight, Rick thought as he lay in his sleeping bag, staring up at the slanting walls of the tent.

  After dinner, Bert had taken out her map. She had studied it with her flashlight while they sat around the campfire, and found a route that would lead them around the foot of the mountain, avoiding the trail up to Dead Mule Pass. “We can wait and make sure the creeps are on their way up to the pass. Then we’ll take this trail, and it’ll be the last we ever see of them.”

  “Unless they come back down again when they realize what we’re doing,” Andrea said.

  Bonnie got up from the log where she’d been sitting, and crouched behind Bert to look at the new route. “I don’t know,” she said. “That would take us right to the edge of the wilderness area. Look at that road. The trail runs almost over to it.”

  “Afraid we’ll get hit by cars?” Andrea asked.

  “It’s just a crummy little dirt road,” Bert said. “Not like we’ll be back in civilization.”

  “I guess this is better than having to cope with those jerks.”

  “Who are probably gonna jump us before long.”

  “For godsake, Andrea.”

  “She has a point,” Rick said. “It’s all well and good to make plans for tomorrow, but the main thing is getting through tonight.”

  “They could be watching us right now,” Andrea said, gazing into the darkness beyond the campfire. “Just waiting for the right moment to make their move.”

  “What are we going to do?” Bonnie asked. “We’ve got to turn in sooner or later.”

  “We’ll just have to post guards,” Rick said. “Can you two hang in for a couple of hours?”

  “Sure,” Bonnie said.

  Andrea nodded.

  “Stay by the fire and keep watch while Bert and I get some sleep. Then we’ll relieve you, stand watch for a couple of hours, and get you up for another turn.”

  “Funzies,” Andrea muttered.

  “Whatever you do,” Bert said, “stay together.”

  “Right,” Rick agreed. “Nobody should go off alone for any reason.”

  “Not even to pee,” Bert said. “If you have to do that, stay close to camp. Better yet, don’t even leave the clearing.”

  “And let out a shout if anything starts to happen.”

  Rick had considered giving the revolver to them before he and Bert turned in. He decided not to. That way, he would still have the final control over everyone’s safety. Though the tent flaps were down, they weren’t zippered shut and neither was the mosquito netting. He was fully dressed except for shoes. He could be out of the tent, gun in hand, at the first sound of trouble.

  He wished he could sleep. Bert had dropped off almost at once. At first, he had been able to hear the hushed voices of the girls. Though their words were masked by distance and the rushing sound of the wind, at least the talking had assured him that everything was okay. During the past half hour or so, however, he hadn’t heard them at all.

  He heard the wind. He heard the crackle and pop of the campfire. Sometimes there was a soft crunch like a footstep near the tent, which could have been a pine cone or limb hitting the ground; could have been almost anything—including a footstep.

  Mr. Shadow Man?

  The girls are fine, he told himself. They just ran out of things to talk about.

  They’ll come along pretty soon to wake us up for our turn. Rick pulled his arm out of the sleeping bag and checked his wristwatch. Ten forty-five. Their turn at standing guard wasn’t supposed to start until eleven-thirty. He returned his arm to the warmth of the bag.

  Maybe the girls fell asleep, he thought. Sure. Bonnie’s sitting on a log, Andrea on a rock. They might drowse a little, but they aren’t going to conk out.

  What if the cougar shows up? Nosing around for a late-night snack ...

  Why don’t you just crawl out of your bag and take a quick look?

  What if they’re not there?

  He pictured them sitting close to the fire while Jase, Luke and Wally crept up behind them. Arms hooked the girls across the throats and jerked them backward off their seats. Choked, unable to shout for help, they were dragged away from the camp. Taken far off into the trees.

  They’re right outside the tent, Rick told himself quickly before he could
start imagining more. Nothing’s happened. It’s all in your mind.

  He slipped the revolver out of the boot near his head and sat up. The fluttering light of the fire was faintly visible through the translucent tent flaps.

  He squirmed out of his sleeping bag, picked up his rolled parka, and crawled to the front of the tent. There, he parted the flaps a bit and peered out through the gap.

  Bonnie and Andrea were sitting by the fire, Andrea leaning forward to add a stick to the blaze.

  I knew it was all in my mind, he thought.

  You didn’t know any such thing.

  Rick put on his parka. The warmth felt good. He slipped into his jogging shoes and tied their laces. He put the revolver inside his coat and clamped it against his side. Then he crawled out.

  Bonnie saw him coming and looked at her watch. “You’re early,” she said.

  “Couldn’t sleep, anyway. How’s it going?”

  “No problem,” Bonnie said.

  Andrea grimaced. “No problem if you don’t count freezing your ass numb.”

  “Stick it in the fire,” Rick suggested.

  “Then she complains about the rivets in her jeans burning holes in her butt,” Bonnie said, smiling.

  “You can’t win,” Andrea said.

  “Well, I’ll take over the watch. You two can go ahead and sack out. That should thaw you out,” he told Andrea.

  “What about Bert?” she asked.

  “I’ll let her sleep for a while.” He sat down on a flat rock, leaned forward, and held his hands out over the fire “No point in both of us suffering.”

  “I’m not sure there’s a point to any of this,” Bonnie said. “They haven’t tried anything yet. Maybe we’ve just blown this whole thing out of proportion. You know? I mean, who’s going to look the other way if he’s seen a couple of gals in bikinis. And, when you think about it, that’s really all they did, isn’t it?”

  “They didn’t come all the way down the mountain,” Andrea said, “just for a closer look.”

  “They claimed they were never up there.”

  “They lied.”

  “It’s very possible they won’t try anything,” Rick said, trying to sound as reasonable as Bonnie. “But we should be prepared in case they do. All it’ll cost us is a little discomfort. I think that’s preferable to letting our guard down and hoping for the best.”