The Stake

by Richard Laymon

  “What?” Pete picked up the ring and squinted at it.

  “I found it on her hand.”

  Pete frowned at him. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  “Well shit, when did you find it?”

  “Sunday morning. Before you came over. I know I should’ve told you about it, but...”

  “Damn right...”

  “I wanted to check on a few things first.”

  “Why you been holding out on me?”

  “I don’t know, Pete. I just wanted to see where it would lead. I figured I’d lay it on you once I got the whole story.”

  “My pal,” he muttered, then studied the ring again. “Bonnie Saxon.”

  Hearing Pete speak her name, Larry felt an ache of loss. She was no longer his alone.

  “You think that’s her name?” Pete asked.

  “I know that’s her name. She was graduated from Buford High in ‘sixty-eight. Like I said, I did some checking.” He opened the manila envelope.

  I don’t want to do this, he thought.

  But he was already committed. Besides, Pete would find out everything, sooner or later. Best to get it over with.

  He slid out the Spirit Queen photograph of Bonnie. It fluttered in his trembling fingers as he passed it to Pete and took the ring back.

  Pete’s eyes widened. He pursed his lips. “This is her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Man!”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s a fuckin‘ knockout.”

  “I know.”

  He shook his head. “So this is our babe.”

  Our babe. I shouldn’t have done it. Should’ve kept her to myself.

  “Where’d you get this?”

  “A school yearbook.”

  “Man, you diddo some checking. What else have you got?”

  “Let me have it back,” Larry said, holding out his hand. “Somebody might see it. There could be people in here who knew her.”

  Pete stared at the picture for a few more moments, then gave it back to him. Larry slipped it inside the envelope. He pulled his stack of photocopies halfway out. “There’s too much here for you to read right now. I’ll make copies of them, if you want.”

  “What do they say?”

  Larry let them slide out of sight and set the envelope down beside him. “It’s a long story. I had to spend a couple of days searching back issues of the town paper.”

  “Come on, man. Give.”

  Larry waited while the waitress approached with their meals. She set down the plates and drinks. “Enjoy, fellas,” she said. Then she was gone.

  “It started with two murders in the Sagebrush Flat Hotel.” While they ate, he told Pete how the town had been abandoned after the mine failure; how the Radleys had remained, living in their hotel, after everyone else had left. He told about Uriah’s trip to Mulehead Bend, the trouble with his pickup, and how he’d walked the final miles only to find his wife and daughter slain in the hotel. He gave Pete the official speculation that bikers or other transients were responsible.

  “But Uriah thought they’d been killed by vampires,” he said.

  “That wasn’t in any newspaper,” Pete said.

  “He had his wife and daughter cremated so they wouldn’t come back to life.”

  “You guessing, or what?”

  “Just let me go on.”

  “Well, how about sticking to the facts?”

  “Okay. Facts. The Radley women were murdered on July fifteenth. On July twenty-sixth a teenage girl named Sandra Dunlap was abducted from her parents’ home right here in Mulehead. Blood was found on her bed. On August tenth another girl vanished. This was Linda Latham. She was apparently kidnapped on her way home from a friend’s house. Bonnie Saxon...”

  “That’s ourgal...”

  “Right. She was taken from her mother’s home on the night of August thirteenth. Blood was found on her bed the next day.”

  “Just like the other one, huh? Dunlap?”

  “That’s right. All three girls were about the same age. They all disappeared within a month after the Radley murders in Sagebrush Flat. The police had absolutely nothing to go on. Until Bonnie was taken. That night, a witness spotted Uriah Radley waiting around in front of her house.”

  “The guy from Sagebrush?”

  “Right. So the cops went looking for him. They searched the hotel. They didn’t find him or the missing girls, but they found some pretty interesting stuff in one of the rooms: crucifixes, garlic cloves, a hammer and some pointed wooden stakes.”

  “Holy shit. So you’re telling me this Uriah guy is the one who snatched the teenagers?”

  “It sure looks that way.”

  “And he’s the one who staked our gal.”

  “Probably the others, too.”

  “Man, this is farout.”

  “You’re telling me?”

  “Were the other two found?”

  “Not that I know of. Neither was Uriah, apparently.”

  “So what do you think?” Pete asked. “You think this Uriah guy went off his rocker and thought he was killing the vampires that nailed his family?”

  “It sure looks that way.”

  “Jesus, our book’s gonna be a blockbuster for sure! Now, if we just pull that stake tonight and she isa vampire — gangbusters!”

  Larry’s heart quickened. “Not tonight.”

  “Why the hell not? We’ve got the whole story. Everything but the finish.”

  “There’s still a loose end.”

  “Okay. Your famous ‘loose end.’ What is it?” Larry didn’t know. But he had to find a reason to delay the pulling of the stake.

  Suddenly he saw the loose end. It was obvious.

  “Who put the brand new lock on the hotel door?” he asked. “Who covered the break in the stairway landing? I think it might be Uriah. I think he’s returned to Sagebrush Flat.”

  Pete, wiping his mouth with a napkin, stared at Larry. He lowered the napkin. He stroked one side of his thick mustache. His eyes narrowed. “God Almighty,” he muttered. “I bet you’re right. Maybe he’s our friend the coyote eater.”

  “What if we can find him?”

  “What if we can busthim! A citizen’s arrest! Jumping fucking Judas, the publicity! Lar, you’re a genius!”

  A genius? He felt as if he had just stepped off a cliff.

  “We’ll go out there tomorrow,” Pete said. “We’ll tell the wives we’re going target shooting. They didn’t want to come along last time, they’ll be glad to get rid of us. And we’ll drive out to Sagebrush Flat and nail us a killer.”

  Thirty

  “I asked Henry and Betty to come with us tonight,” Lane said.

  Jim, chewing a mouthful of apple, suddenly looked as if he’d gnashed a worm. His voice came out muffled. “You gotta be kidding.”

  “You don’t mind too much, do you?” she asked.

  “Mind? Shit! You arekidding, right?”

  “I think it’ll be nice.”

  “How could you do this to me? We haven’t been out together in weeks, and now we’ve gotta take along those two rejects?”

  “They’re my best friends, Jim.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’ve gotta take ‘em everywhere you go. Shit. They’ll ruin everything.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  “Oh, right. Sure. Damn. Can’t you just tell ‘em you changed your mind?”

  Lane shook her head. “I knew you’d cause a stink about this.”

  “Then why’d you do it?”

  “I felt like it, okay?”

  Scowling, Jim turned away from her and bit out a chunk of apple with an angry snap of his teeth.

  Lane gazed at the remains of her ham sandwich. She thought she might choke if she tried to eat any more.

  A rotten trick to pull on the guy. Maybe I shouldtell them I changed my mind.

  Damn it, though, she didn’t want to be alone with him. Asking Henry and Betty to c
ome along had been a way to squirm out of the situation: either Jim would call the whole thing off, or the presence of her friends would keep him in line. At least as long as they were in the car. Once Jim dropped them off, she’d be on her own.

  I can handle him, she told herself.

  But maybe I won’t have to.

  “Would you rather skip the whole thing?” she asked.

  Jim faced her. His scowl was gone. There was a look of hurt in his eyes. “Is that what you want?”

  He does care about me, she reminded herself. Maybe he even loves me.

  Lane knew she didn’t love him. Maybe once. Not anymore. She’d seen too many samples of his juvenile behavior: his pettiness, his meanness toward her friends, his constant preoccupation with sex as if all he really cared about was her body, as if his whole aim in life was to score with her. Why couldn’t he be kind and sensitive? If he were only more like Mr. Kramer, there wouldn’t be a problem.

  But they’d been very close. She supposed she still cared about him. She knew she didn’t want to hurt him.

  She put a hand on his arm. “No. Let’s go out tonight. I want to.”

  “I guess I can stand those two for a few hours. If I have to.”

  “Who knows? You may even end up having a good time.”

  “Sure,” he muttered.

  “Let’s see a smile.”

  He bared his upper teeth.

  “A smile, not a snarl. You look like an old hound with a burr up its ass.”

  That brought a real smile, and a small laugh.

  “Much better,” she said.

  She realized that her appetite had returned. She bit into her sandwich. As she chewed she said, “Just wait and see. We’ll have a great time.”

  Jim reached behind her. He rubbed the middle of her back, sliding her blouse against her bare skin. “Nice,” he said softly. “Nothing in the way. You’ll leave it off for me, won’t you? Tonight? I’ll be real nice to your pals.”

  “We’ll see,” she muttered.

  “Oh, come on. You been coming to school without it, you won’t need it for the movies.”

  “In school you have to keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Don’t haveto. I’m just too much of a gentleman to take advantage.”

  “Sure.”

  He grinned. “Besides, I’m no idiot. If I got cute, you’d start up wearing the damn things again.”

  “You better believe it.”

  He continued to caress her back. “I love it,” he said, “just knowing you got nothing on in there.”

  “Cool it, huh?”

  * * *

  When Lane entered the classroom just before the sixth-period bell, she found Riley Benson in Jessica’s seat. He was slumped low, legs stretched out, ankles crossed. He didn’t look at her.

  Why’s he at Jessica’s desk? she wondered.

  It came as no surprise that Riley was back in school. She’d learned from news reports that “the suspect” had been released by the authorities, and she’d already seen him a few times today in the hallways and cafeteria.

  But it seemed pretty weird to plonk himself down at Jessica’s desk instead of his own.

  Lane could only think of one reason for that: he missed her. Sitting where she used to sit, maybe he felt closer to her.

  She looked at him.

  Poor bastard, she thought.

  His head turned and he glared at her. “What’re youstaring at?”

  “I’m sorry about Jessica,” she said.

  “Yeah? Well, fuck you.”

  “I was just trying to be nice,” she muttered.

  “Yeah? Who needs it?”

  In a soft voice she said, “You don’t have to be such a tough guy all the time.”

  “You don’t have to be such a fuckin‘ goody-two-shoes.”

  “Did the police treat you okay?”

  “Cram it, huh?”

  “Why won’t you let anyone be nice to you?”

  “Youwanta be nice to me?” He suddenly drew in his legs and lunged sideways, leaning out over the aisle and grabbing Lane’s arm. He tugged her from her seat. As her rump hit the floor he dragged her closer.

  “What’re you doing?” she cried out. “Stop it!”

  She heard other kids in the classroom suddenly shouting: “Leave her alone!” and “Benson, you turd!” and “Somebody dosomething!”

  Riley released her arm. Clutching her hair and chin, he twisted her face upward. “Wanta be nice to me, huh?”

  “Somebody stop him!” a girl yelled.

  Riley spit. The saliva spattered Lane’s tight lips. He let go of her chin and rubbed the spit around her mouth and cheeks.

  “What’s going on here?” A shout. Mr. Kramer’s voice.

  Riley thrust Lane away. She caught herself with an elbow, and winced as pain shot up her arm. With the back of her other hand she wiped the spittle from her face. The stuff had a sweetish, sickening odor like the smell of a sneeze.

  “Benson, you son of a bitch!”

  “Fuck you, man!”

  Sitting up and holding her elbow, Lane watched Mr. Kramer stride toward the front of the desk where Riley sat.

  “Hey, man, you better not touch me!”

  The teacher leaned over the desk, clutched the long hair on top of Riley’s head, and jerked him into the other aisle. His right fist smashed Riley’s face. The boy’s head snapped sideways. Lane saw spit fly from his mouth. Mr. Kramer released the hair, and Riley slumped to his knees.

  “Apologize to Miss Dunbar.”

  “Eat shit, fag.”

  “Cream him!” a guy advised from the rear of the room.

  Riley looked up at Mr. Kramer. The way the boy’s face was red and contorted, Lane thought he might start to cry. In a shaky voice he said, “You’re gonna get it. You hit me, you fag bastard. I’m gonna have your job.”

  Mr. Kramer picked him up by his shirtfront, glared in his face and shook him. “Apologize to my student.”

  “It’s all right,” Lane said, getting to her feet. “Please. Can’t we just forget it?”

  “Say you’re sorry, Benson.”

  “Okay okay, I’m sorry.”

  “Tell her.”

  Riley turned his face toward Lane. He said, “Sorry.” He looked as if he wanted to kill her.

  “Very good,” Mr. Kramer muttered. “Now get the hell out of here.” He shoved the kid backward and let go. Riley stumbled, tripped over his own motorcycle boots and fell sprawling.

  A few kids laughed, but most watched in silence.

  Riley scurried to his feet and ran for the rear door. “You’re gonna be sorry!” he shouted back, his voice high-pitched and trembling. “Both of you! Just wait!” Then he darted into the hallway.

  When he was gone, Heidi began to clap. The rest of the class joined in, and in seconds the room was thundering with applause.

  “Stop it,” Mr. Kramer said. “Everybody settle down.” He stepped over to Lane. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’d like to wash my face.”

  “Maybe you should see the nurse.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m not hurt. Really. I just want to wash off the spit. If I could have a rest room pass...”

  “I’ll escort you there myself, then drop by the principal’s office to have some words about our friend.” Turning to the class, he said, “I’ll be out of the room for a few minutes. Take out your books and make good use of the time. When I come back, I want to find everyone quiet and busy. Understood?”

  He followed Lane into the hallway. She looked both ways. No sign of Riley or anyone else.

  Side by side they walked toward the rest room. Her legs felt weak and shaky.

  “What started off Benson, anyway?” Mr. Kramer asked.

  “I don’t know. I told him I was sorry about Jessica, that’s all. I was trying to be nice to him, and all of a sudden he grabbed me.”

  “Some people are best just left alone.”

  “Guess so.
Thanks for coming to the rescue.”

  “I’m just sorry I wasn’t quicker about it. Seems like I’m never quite on time when it comes to helping you out of jams.”

  Oh yeah, she thought. My fall, too.

  “Sorry I keep causing you all this trouble,” she said.

  “No trouble. But I’m starting to wonder if you might be accident prone, or something.”

  “Didn’t used to be.”

  “Just in my room, huh?” He smiled.

  “Looks that way.”

  They stopped at the double doors of the girls’ rest room. “I’ll wait here while you go in and take a look around.”

  “You don’t think Riley?..”

  “Never hurts to be careful, Lane.”

  She pushed open one of the doors and entered. The air reeked of stale smoke. Though the place appeared deserted, she checked each of the stalls. About half the toilets were unflushed, all the seats looked wet, and so did the tile floor around each fixture. But Riley wasn’t lurking about. Feeling a little disgusted, she returned to the door and opened it.

  “Nobody here, Mr. Kramer.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you back in the room.”

  As he walked away, Lane let the door swing shut. She stepped up to a sink, turned on the hot water, and pumped greenish-yellow liquid soap into her palm. Though her face was dry, she could still smell Riley’s saliva. She started washing.

  Sure isn’t my day, she thought.

  The crud. Why would he want to do something like that?

  I should’ve known better than to mess with him. Now he’ll really want to get me.

  Even worse, Mr. Kramer might get into trouble for slugging him.

  Lane wished she had stayed home. If she’d been absent, none of this would’ve happened with Riley. She even would’ve had a good excuse for breaking off tonight’s date. Should’ve just stayed in bed this morning and pretended to be sick.

  It’ll be all right, she told herself. It isn’t the end of the world. And Mr. Kramer was terrific.

  She dried with paper towels. When she finished, she saw in the mirror that her skin was a little red around her mouth and chin. Her eyes had a weird, dazed look. She shook her head as if to wake herself up. Then she tucked in her blouse and left the rest room.

  Arriving at the front door of the classroom, she glanced in. Mr. Kramer hadn’t returned yet. She heard quiet murmurs and laughter. Sounded like everyone was behaving — sort of. But she didn’t want to step inside until the teacher was there. Everyone would stare at her, ask questions, offer comments. So she stepped away from the door and leaned back against a locker.