Come Out Tonight

by Richard Laymon

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Nothing,” he said, and patted a cheek of the rump.

  “Christ, Jeff.”

  “Still warm,” he said.

  “Probably the sun.”

  “Let’s turn her over.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Come on, give me a hand.”

  “You’re nuts.”

  “You telling me you don’t wanta check her out?”

  “She’s dead!”

  “So who’s gonna find out we looked her over? She’s sure not gonna tell on us.”

  “The cops’ll know if we move her.”

  “Yeah? So what? We’ll just say we didn’t know she was dead and figured she might need some first aid.”

  “We’d better not.”

  “You want to, man. I know you want to. Don’t be such a chicken.”

  “It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Gimme a break. A, who gives a shit? B, what’s so bad about looking her over? Who’s it gonna hurt? Now come on and help me.”

  “You want to turn her over, you turn her over. I’m not touching her.”

  “Okay, don’t.” Jeff shrugged and smiled. “I’ll do it.” He lifted her left arm off the ground and moved it in against her side. “No rigor mortis,” he said. Dropping to one knee, he leaned over her, placed a hand on the small of her back to brace himself up, and reached out for her right arm. He hooked his fingers over it and drew it down against her side. “Loose as a goose,” he said.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Pete muttered.

  “Do you believe you’re watching?”

  “I’m not about to leave you alone with her.”

  “Ha! Good one!” He moved sideways and leaned over the backs of her thighs. Using both hands, he pulled her right leg in against her left. “Guess we’re all set,” he said. “So get ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Who knows? Maybe her guts’ll fall out or something.”

  “Terrific.”

  “I mean, she might have a nasty old wound somewhere.”

  “Why don’t you just leave her the way she is?”

  “Because she’s here, man.” He smiled over his shoulder at Pete. “You sure you don’t want to help?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Scared to touch her.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Aren’t you the guy with the big plans to experience everything? How’re you gonna write about a thing like this if all you do is stand there and watch?”

  “I’ve got an imagination,” Pete said.

  But maybe Jeff was right. He should touch the body—not only to find out how a corpse feels, but to learn how it would make him feel.

  I owe it to my art.

  Right, he thought. That’d give me an excuse to do anything, no matter how rotten.

  He stood there and shook his head.

  “You’ll probably never get another chance like this,” Jeff said.

  “Why do you care?”

  “ ’Cause you’re my best friend. I don’t want you missing out on something this big. You know? You’ll end up regretting it. I mean, shit, you’ve got a murder victim at your feet and you won’t even touch her! Not to mention she looks like she might be a major babe.”

  “I’m not touching her.”

  “Hemingway would’ve.”

  “Hemingway did lots of crummy stuff. I want to write like him, not act like him.”

  “You are such a chicken.” With that, Jeff stood up and stepped over the body. He turned around, knelt by its right side, jammed his hands underneath the hip and thigh, and heaved upward.

  The woman tumbled onto her back. The jolt turned her head toward Pete, flung out her right arm and leg, and sent a tremor through her breasts. She slid downslope a few inches, then stopped.

  Her eyes were shut.

  Her guts didn’t spill out.

  Now that her head was turned, Pete couldn’t see any major wounds at all. But she seemed to have countless nicks and scratches and abrasions. Her face was puffy and her lips were split as if she’d been punched senseless. She had a thin, curving slit underneath her left breast. Most of her front was smeared and streaked with blood. Clinging to the blood were bits of weeds and leaves, powdery dust and grains of dirt. So much of her body was a mess that the few clean, uninjured areas of skin seemed strangely out of place.

  She was a ruin.

  But she was naked.

  Pete could see everything.

  Jeff, staring down at her, murmured, “Wow.” He sidestepped and crouched and peered between her legs.

  “Don’t be disgusting,” Pete said.

  Ignoring him, Jeff sighed and kept on staring.

  “Stop that.”

  “You ever seen one of these? You better take a good look. Never know when you’ll get another chance.”

  “I’d rather see a live one.”

  “Know what I’d really like to do?”

  “No. And I don’t want to hear about it. I think it’s about time we go back to the house and call the cops.”

  “What’s the big hurry?”

  “We’ve seen her, okay? You turned her over. We’ve seen both sides, and—”

  “I’m still looking,” Jeff said.

  “Yeah, and you’re starting to get funny ideas.”

  “Don’t know how funny they are.”

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  “What we really oughta do,” Jeff said, “is wash her off, see what she looks like underneath all this blood and crap.”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Pete said.

  “Maybe hose her down.”

  Pete found himself wondering if the backyard hose would reach this far. Probably.

  “Even if the hose is long enough…” Grimacing, he shook his head. “No way. We’re already gonna be in trouble with the cops. As it is, they’ll know we were hanging around back here. All these trampled weeds. They might even think we had something to do with killing her. All we’d need is to drag the garden hose back here and—”

  “Who says they even have to find her here?”

  “What?”

  “Suppose her body gets found someplace else? Say, a couple of miles from here? Say, tomorrow?”

  Pete gaped at him.

  “We do it right, we’d be completely in the clear, wouldn’t have to worry about getting blamed for anything.”

  “You’ve completely lost your mind.”

  “It’d be easy, man. Your mom and dad aren’t coming home tonight, are they?”

  “Not supposed to, but…”

  “We can clean her up, hide her in your house, then take her for a ride sometime really late tonight. Find a nice, empty stretch of road and dump her out. Then she’s somebody else’s problem.”

  “No! My God! If we got caught trying to pull a thing like that…”

  “Who’s gonna catch us, man? This ain’t an episode of Homicide, this is real life. In real life, people get away with shit all the time.”

  “We wouldn’t. We’d get nailed. Anyway, the whole idea is sick. You just want to keep her around all day so you can…I don’t know, look at her and stuff.”

  “And you don’t want to look at her and stuff?”

  “No!”

  “Yeah, sure. You know damn well you’d love to. You’re just chicken.”

  “I want to do what’s right, that’s all.”

  Shaking his head, Jeff let out a sigh. “Okay, you win. We’ll call the cops. Of course, they’ll probably haul our asses in for questioning…”

  Pete suddenly felt squirmy in his bowels.

  “Might even charge us with her rape and murder,” Jeff added. “But we’ll do it your way.”

  “I think we have to. Really. Otherwise, we might get in deep trouble. They’ll know we didn’
t do this.”

  “Oh, we probably won’t get convicted. Not me, anyway. I know she hasn’t got my semen in her. Has she got yours?”

  Pete scowled at his friend. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know, man, we found her behind your house. You had the place all to yourself last night. Who’s to say you’re not the guy that did all this to her?”

  “Up yours.”

  “Well, then, long as you’re innocent, we’ll both be in the clear once they’ve run some tests. DNA tests only take a couple of months.”

  “You’re not talking me out of this, Jeff. We’re gonna call the cops right now.”

  “Fine. If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  “But we’d better not leave her alone. Somebody has to stay behind and make sure she’s okay.”

  “She’s not okay. She’s very un-okay. She can’t get more unokay than she is right now.”

  “Don’t count on it. We could go off to make that call of yours and come back and find her getting chewed on by a coyote. Or some stray dogs or something.”

  “We’ll only be gone a couple of minutes.”

  “Longer than that, man. The wind, the fires. Not to mention the phones were dead all night. Nobody could even call the cops till a couple of hours ago. You could be on hold for half an hour before they even let you talk to someone. A lot could happen to a stiff in half an hour. Vultures…”

  “You just want to be left alone with her,” Pete said.

  “I know that’s not gonna happen. But I still don’t think we should leave her by herself. Seriously. So maybe you should stay here and I’ll go call the cops.”

  The suggestion took Pete by surprise.

  Alone with her!

  “Okay,” he said. “I guess that’ll be all right. But hurry.”

  Jeff rushed down the slope and climbed the wall. Standing on top, he turned around and grinned. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he called.

  “You’re a riot.”

  Jeff laughed, turned his back, and leaped.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Alone on the hillside with the body, Pete scanned the area again. He saw no one. Nor did he see any roaming coyotes or dogs.

  He didn’t suppose the body was actually in danger of being eaten by such animals. Especially in daylight. The risk would’ve been much greater last night. If she’d made it through the darkness…

  Who says she did?

  Pete didn’t think he’d seen any bites.

  Doesn’t mean there aren’t any.

  He stepped closer to the body. Staring down at it, he searched for bite marks.

  The breasts were bloody, dirty, abraded and scratched. Bits of skin were rucked up here and there, but no chunks were missing. Neither breast looked as if it had been ripped by teeth.

  To Pete, they looked wonderful in spite of the mess.

  He wanted to touch them, put his hands on them and squeeze them gently.

  What if Jeff sees me?

  He looked over his shoulder at the wall.

  Then he stared down at the woman’s breasts.

  I’d get blood on my hands. And she’d end up with my hand prints on her. How would I explain that to Jeff? Or to the cops?

  He didn’t care. They were tattered and filthy but lovely and he ached to feel them. They glistened with drops of sweat or dew that slid down them through the blood. They would be warm and slippery.

  But she’s dead! You can’t feel up a corpse! Talk about perverted!

  I shouldn’t even be staring at her like this, he told himself. It’s sick.

  Maybe I oughta check out the rest.

  Excited by the idea, he looked back at the wall again. Then he hurried alongside the body and crouched between its feet.

  If Jeff catches me…

  I’m only looking for bite marks, he reminded himself. To see if a coyote or something got to her last night.

  Is it supposed to look like this?

  Pretty much, he thought. It resembled drawings and photos he’d seen, but…

  Something hissed.

  A snake?

  Pete started to turn his head, yelped as an icy blast of water struck him, then saw Jeff standing on the wall, a huge grin on his face, a wild gleam in his eyes, and the garden hose in his right hand.

  Breathless, Pete scurried away from the girl. The water, shooting out of the nozzle like a shiny silver pole, struck him hard in the chest and splashed off as if exploding. “Stop it!” he yelled.

  Jeff lowered his aim.

  The water drove into Pete’s belly, then smacked the jutting front of his trunks, soaking him with frigid liquid, the powerful stream whapping against his erection.

  Pete turned his back to Jeff and hunkered down.

  The tight rod of water poked the seat of his trunks, soaked them, pounded against his buttocks, probed between them. “Quit it!”

  Suddenly, it went away.

  Looking over his shoulder, Pete saw the silvery liquid slant down and strike the body’s right breast. On impact, the tube burst into glistening spray that was pink for a moment, then clear and sparkling. The breast was suddenly clean and pale and shiny. It shook as the water battered it.

  Then it stopped shaking.

  The water no longer smashed against it, but pounded instead against the woman’s right hand, which was raised off the ground to block it.

  “My God,” Pete muttered.

  The hose jerked aside.

  The woman’s arm sank to the ground.

  Pete looked up at Jeff, who stood atop the wall with his smile gone, his jaw hanging, the hose sending its hard shaft into the ground a short distance from the woman’s head.

  “What the hell was that?” Jeff asked.

  “I guess she…”

  Jeff swung the hose toward her again. The strong jet of water jabbed her shoulder and ricocheted into her face.

  “Don’t!” Pete yelled.

  As the water pelted her face, she grimaced slightly and turned her head.

  “Stop it! She’s alive, you idiot!”

  The tight, hard tube of water suddenly loosened, spreading out. Pete glanced toward the wall and saw Jeff twisting the nozzle. When he looked again at the woman, the blood and filth was being rinsed from her body by a broad, heavy shower.

  She raised an arm to shield her face.

  Her front was nearly clean, now. The ruddy blotches and cuts and scratches and abrasions stood out in sharp contrast to the areas where her skin was undamaged.

  Her cloak of blood and grime stripped off, she suddenly seemed much more naked than before.

  And now she’s alive!

  She was alive before, Pete told himself. Alive while we were inspecting her, talking about her.

  Jeff had patted her butt.

  Pete had come very close, himself, to reaching for her breasts.

  Thank God I didn’t do that!

  But what did I say? he wondered. Did I say anything raunchy?

  He wasn’t sure.

  He was sure, however, there’d been some discussion about keeping her body in the house, getting rid of it after dark.

  And what else?

  Jeff had talked about the semen in her.

  What did I say? he wondered. Maybe nothing too awful.

  But I sure looked her over. What if she knows?

  She doesn’t, he told himself. She was out cold. She might’ve heard stuff, but she sure didn’t see me inspecting her.

  Why did we assume she was dead? We should’ve checked! How could we be that stupid?

  This is gonna be so damn embarrassing.

  Maybe she won’t even survive.

  No, I don’t wish that.

  But who’s to say she hasn’t already been fatally injured? Maybe she’ll only last a few more minutes…

  Her whole body started to move. Still being doused by the hose, she slowly rolled over and pushed herself up to her hands and knees. She stayed that way, head drooping toward the ground, wh
ile Jeff, walking along the top of the wall, sprayed her back and buttocks and the backs of her legs.

  They were shiny—but red with dozens of contusions, scuffs, welts and scratches.

  Jeff turned the hose away from her. Twisting the nozzle, he shut off the water until it only trickled out. Then he pulled more hose toward him. Nozzle still in his hand, he leaped off the wall. He climbed toward the woman, dragging the hose.

  She remained on her hands and knees, head low.

  Jeff looked at Pete. “You believe this?” he asked.

  Pete shook his head.

  “We thought you were dead, lady.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Did you get through to the police?” Pete asked.

  Looking annoyed, Jeff said, “Busy signal. I tried a couple of times. Then I figured it wouldn’t hurt to grab the hose on the way back—clean her off.”

  “Sure,” Pete muttered.

  You didn’t even try to call, did you? Figured you’d pull a sneak attack. Once you’ve hosed her down, we can’t call the cops.

  He glared at Jeff.

  “All it would hurt is every bit of evidence about who did this to her.”

  “It’s cool, man. She’s not dead.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You oughta be glad.”

  “I am glad.”

  Jeff flashed him a strange smile, then knelt beside the woman.

  She was breathing hard—her back rising and falling—as if she were trying to make up for all the air she’d missed while lying dead.

  Almost dead.

  The moisture on her skin glistened and sparkled in the sunlight. Here and there, it trickled downward.

  Pete stepped closer to her. He crouched next to Jeff.

  The woman on her hands and knees was slightly upslope from him.

  He could see the goosebumps on her skin.

  He watched a drop of water dribble down the side of her left breast. It slid to the tip of her nipple and stayed there, trembling.

  “You’re safe now,” Jeff told her. “You’ll be all right. We’ll take care of you.”

  Her head moved slightly up and down—a nod?

  The drop of water lost its hold on her nipple and fell to the ground.

  “We need to get her an ambulance,” Pete said.

  “Good luck, man. All you’ll get is a busy signal.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m telling you. But go ahead if you don’t believe me. You’ll find out.”