At any rate, the TV and lamp shouldn’t be left on all night.
Lane made her way toward the living room, walking slowly. Though she ached all over, the pains seemed rather mild. Maybe the aspirin had helped. Certainly the shower had helped. And the long, hot bath she’d taken after cleaning herself under the spray.
The virus could’ve gotten in when he busted the old maidenhead. Wouldn’t that be ironic? I died because I was a virgin. Shouldn’t have been so fucking chaste.
I’ll be all right, she told herself. I’ll be all right.
The television was still on, its screen fuzzy with snow. The lamp at the end of the sofa was still on. But Dad was gone.
Lane heard the soft rumble and thump of a door sliding shut.
What’s he doing? Going out back?
She went into the kitchen and cupped her hands against the glass. Dad was out there, all right. Walking funny, as if he wasn’t completely awake — or awfully soused. He made his way toward the garage with a lurching, staggering gait, weaving a little.
Lane slid open the kitchen door. She almost called to him, but realized that a shout might wake up her mother. Whatever Dad might be up to, Mom was sure to interfere and give him some grief about it.
As Dad opened the garage door, Lane stepped outside and eased the kitchen door shut.
“Dad?” she called, not too loudly.
He didn’t seem to hear her. He vanished into the darkness.
Lane frowned. Maybe I should just go back in, she thought. But what if he isn’t okay?
What’s he doing in the garage, anyway?
The wind parted her robe below the cloth belt and swept it away from her legs. She liked how the caresses felt, supposed that the cold didn’t bother her because she was still heated from the bath.
What if Dad can see me?
Reluctantly, she pulled the robe shut. She clamped its soft fabric between her thighs.
Something suddenly glowed white inside the darkness of the garage. The light seemed to be moving. Lane realized it must be the battery lantern that she’d given Dad for Father’s Day. It had a fluorescent tube instead of a regular flashlight bulb.
Is he looking for something? she wondered.
Because of her bare feet, Lane stayed off the grass. She walked across the concrete sun deck. She was nearly to the garage door when she saw him.
He had the lantern in one hand. He was standing on the small wooden platform beneath the trapdoor to the attic, his head tilted up, his back to Lane. His other hand waved overhead in an attempt to catch the dangling rope.
The wind tossed Lane’s hair across her eyes. It bared her right side, curling gently over her skin. As she halted to close her robe again, she saw her father grab the cord and pull the trapdoor down. He set the lantern on the platform at his feet. He unfolded the ladder.
“Dad?”
Acting as if he didn’t hear her, he picked up the lantern and began to climb.
Is he deaf?
She hurried toward him, afraid he might fall.
It wasn’t like Dad to ignore her. Something was definitely wrong with him. Either drunk senseless or... sleepwalking?
She stopped beneath the ladder. He was almost to, the top.
Maybe I’d better get Mom, she thought. If he’s walking in his sleep, this is serious. What if he finishes whatever he’s doing up there and doesn’t know he’s in the attic and falls right through the opening?
He could do that while I’m going for Mom, she realized.
Dad scrambled off the ladder and crawled out of sight.
Lane started to climb.
What’II I do?
Somewhere, she’d heard that sleepwalkers often dropped dead if you woke them up. Probably just a stupid myth. What if it’s true, though?
I’d better just keep an eye on him, try to keep him from getting hurt.
Through the opening above her, Lane saw the garage’s slanted roof, its crossbeams casting bands of shadow against the ceiling planks. The lantern had to be nearby, but she couldn’t see her father.
She climbed higher. The rungs pressed into the bottoms of her feet. She noticed that her legs were shaking.
When she stepped onto the next rung, her head lifted above the attic floor. She stopped. Not much more than a yard in front of her face was a long, wooden box.
A coffin?
No way. That’s ridiculous.
But shivers crawled up her back. Her heart began to thud, pumping throbs of pain through her body. She felt as if her muscles, already sore and trembling, were melting into warm mush. She clutched the ladder’s top rung in case her legs should give out.
And gazed at her father.
He was standing at one end of the box.
It can’t be a coffin!
Standing there, staring down into it. The lantern, held close to the side of his chest with his one hand, left smudges of darkness on his face.
“I know,” he said.
The words seemed to suck out Lane’s breath. She knew he wasn’t talking to her.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he said. “So much.”
He nodded as if he heard a voice in his head. Then he straddled the box and sat down on its end. He rested the lantern on his left knee.
“Forever?” he asked. After a moment he said, “That would be so wonderful, Bonnie.”
Lane forced herself to climb higher. Dad didn’t seem to notice.
She knelt on the attic floor.
She saw over the edge of the box.
She went numb.
It wasa coffin, and it wasn’t empty, and the thing inside looked like a fucking Egyptian mummythat someone had unwrapped — a girlmummy with a horrible grin, a stub of wood jutting out of her chest between breasts that look like oblong flaps of leather. She didn’t wear a stitch. And Dad was sitting above her feet where he could see everything, and he was staring at her and talkingto her!
This can’t be happening, Lane thought. I must be sleeping, and...
He’sthe one sleeping.
“I know,” he said, but not to Lane. “But I’m afraid.”
He nodded.
He scooted forward on the edges of the coffin. Just above the mummy’s pelvis, he stopped. If Lane reached out, she could touch his left leg.
“I love you, too,” he said. There was agony in his voice. “But I love my wife and daughter. I can’t give them up, not even for you.”
Those words seemed to scatter the fog in Lane’s mind.
“Do you promise?” he asked.
He’s talking to a corpse! About me and Mom!
“If you do anything to hurt them...”
Again, he nodded. “All right. I’ll do it.” Leaning forward, he reached down toward the chest of the mummy with his right hand. His fingers wrapped around the stake.
“Dad!” Lane punched the side of his knee. The impact shot his leg inward. The lantern tumbled off. Dad’s leg slammed the coffin. The lantern struck the attic floor. It went out.
Black fell across Lane’s eyes. She scurried forward.
“Huh?” Dad’s voice. Confused. Then he bellowed, “Yeeeeeahhhh!”
Lane found his leg. He flinched rigid and his yell turned into a shriek. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Dad,” she gasped as he tried to twist free. “Dad, it’s me. It’s Lane. You’re okay.”
He stopped screaming, stopped trying to struggle free. He made choked, whimpering noises.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”
She felt a hand press against her back. Another hand touched the side of her head, moved forward and stroked her face, the fingers fluttering against her cheek. As he caressed her and sobbed, he slowly seemed to calm down.
He started to murmur “Oh, my God” over and over again.
Lane kept whispering “It’s all right.”
After a while he said, “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“I think you were walking in your sleep.”
“She made me. She brought me here. Oh, my God. Did I pull the stake?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, God.”
The hand went away from her face. She felt him lean forward.
“What’re you doing?”
She felt a shudder pass through him.
“Dad?”
“It’s still there. Thank God.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“How could I comeup here?” he blurted.
“It’s all right, Dad. Let’s just try and get down without breaking our necks.” She let go of him and turned around. Dad kept a hand low on her back.
“Be careful, sweetheart.”
“You, too.”
The opening was a gray rectangle. His hand went away. She heard him moving, climbing off the coffin as she sat down and swung her legs toward the dim gap. “Why don’t you wait up here till I can turn on the garage light?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said.
He sounded almost like Dad.
Lane scooted forward. She lowered her legs until her heels found a rung of the ladder.
“You okay?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.” Gripping the side rails, she pushed herself off the attic floor. She climbed down slowly, her back to the ladder, rungs rubbing against her buttocks and dragging open her robe until nothing covered her front except the cloth belt loose against her belly.
She hoped Dad couldn’t see her.
For a moment she pictured herself lying naked in the coffin up there, Dad sitting above her with that light.
Who is she?
Lane’s feet found the wooden platform. She thrust herself away from the ladder, stood up straight and tied her robe shut before turning around.
Dad came down facing the other way. When he reached the platform, he folded the ladder, took hold of the dangling rope and swung the trapdoor up. It shut with a soft bump.
He stepped down. Lane went to him and put an arm around his back. He hugged her against his side.
Together they walked to the house.
“I guess we need to talk,” he said.
“What’s that thing doing in our garage?”
“It’s a long story. Why don’t you make a pot of coffee? I’ll go and get your mother.”
“You’re going to tell Mom?”
“Yeah. I think I’d better.”
“If you’re afraid I’ll snitch...”
“No, it isn’t that. I’ve gotta tell her what’s going on.”
He left the kitchen. Lane threw out the used filter, put a fresh one into the machine’s plastic basket, added coffee grounds and slipped the basket into place. She poured water into the top of the brewer. She thumbed the on switch. A red light came on. She gazed at it.
The times are out of joint.
Understatement of the fucking year, she thought.
Forty
He sat on the edge of the bed and shook Jean gently by the shoulder. Groaning, she rolled over. She squinted up at him. “Huh? Wha’s...”
“You need to get up,” Larry said.
Suddenly she looked alarmed and wide awake. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not a fire or anything. Nobody’s hurt. We just need to talk.”
“Oh, my God. What? Tell me!”
“Lane’s waiting in the kitchen.”
“Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. This is about me. I’ll explain everything in a few minutes.”
Jean sat up. She had a strange look in her eyes. A look of pain and fear. She caught her lower lip between her teeth.
“Don’t get all upset,” Larry said.
“Are you leaving us?”
“No, no. God, no.” A strap of her nightgown had slipped off, baring her shoulder and right breast. Larry curled his hand over the breast and kissed her mouth.
Pulling her head back, she stared into his eyes. “You’re having an affair?”
“No. I love you, Jean.” He lifted the strap onto her shoulder and kissed her again. Her arms went around him. She hugged him fiercely. “Come on now. Lane’s waiting.” She released him.
Larry stood up. He waited while she climbed out of bed and put on her bathrobe. Then he took her hand and led her from the room. As he entered the kitchen he smelled the comfortable aroma of coffee.
“It’ll be ready in a couple of minutes,” Lane said. She exchanged a rather sick-looking smile with Jean.
“Do you know what this is all about?” Jean asked.
“Not really.”
They both faced Larry. “Go ahead and sit down,” he said.
They sat at the table. Larry stood behind his chair and gripped its back. To Jean he said, “Do you remember that body we found?”
“What about it?”
He looked at Lane. “When your mother and I were out exploring in the desert with Pete and Barbara, we found a body in an abandoned hotel in Sagebrush Flat. That’s a ghost town about fifty...”
“That’s where you found her?”
“Yeah.”
Jean frowned. “I thought we agreed not to tell Lane...”
“I didn’t tell her.” He felt a grimace twisting his face. Here goes, he thought. He took a deep breath. “Lane saw it. Tonight. It’s up in our garage attic.”
Jean gaped at him. The color drained from her face. In a low voice she said, “You’re kidding.”
“Pete and I went out and brought it back with us. While you two were in Los Angeles.”
“You’re kidding,” she said again.
“He isn’t,” Lane told her.
Larry turned away from the table. Coffee had stopped streaming into the pot. He opened a cupboard. “We’re doing a book about it. I’mdoing the book.”
“A book,” Jean muttered.
“A vampire book,” he said, taking down three mugs. “Nonfiction.” He started to fill the mugs. His hand shook, slopping coffee onto the counter.
“You’re telling me... you and Pete tookthat hideous thingout from under the stairs and brought it homewith you, and it’s out in our garage?”
“That’s right. I’m writing a book about it.”
“A vampire book,” Lane murmured. She sounded as if she were talking to herself.
Larry brought the mugs to them. Lane seemed to be staring at the center of the table. Jean looked up at him as he set the mug in front of her. “You’re out of your mind,” she said.
“I know.” He sat down. “I knew you’d be upset...”
“Upset? Me? Why would I be upset? My husband brings a goddamn stiffhome and hides it in our garage.”
“Boy, Dad.”
“I’m sorry. I know it was a stupid thing to do. But Pete and I figured...”
“Pete.” Jean’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll just bet it was his idea.”
“Well, it was. But I went along with it. We’re talking about a major book. It could make us rich.”
“So would robbing a bank,” Jean said. She put her hands on the table. She pushed her chair back. She got up and walked to the phone. “Does Barbara know about this?”
“No. What’re you doing?” Larry asked.
She didn’t answer. She jabbed buttons on the handset.
“Oh, boy,” Lane muttered.
Larry groaned. He wished he hadn’t mentioned Pete. But it wasPete’s idea.
Now we’ll have two wives going apeshit.
It would be nice, though, to have Pete here for some moral support.
“This is Jean.” Her voice sounded calm. “I’d like to speak to Barbara... No, I’m not kidding... Yes indeed, ‘uh-oh’... Hi, Barbara, Jean... Yes, I’d say so. Something is quite wrong. I’d like you and Pete to come over here right away... Let’s just say our dear husbands pulled a certain stunt. Bring something sharp. We may want to kill them.”
At least she hasn’t lost her sense of humor, Larry thought.
Jean hung up. “They’ll be right over,” she said.
“Wonderful.”
/> She sat down, took a sip of coffee, put down the mug, scowled at Larry and said, “What were you doing out there with it tonight?”
The question made his heart lurch. He felt heat rush to his face. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing? You were out there with it, weren’t you?” She faced Lane. “Wasn’t he?”
“He walked in his sleep,” Lane said. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“What washe doing?”
Lane looked at him. She pressed her lips together.
“Go ahead and tell,” he said. “Then we’ll both know.”
“Dad was talking to... the body. I guess he was dreaming or something, and they were carrying on a conversation.” She turned her eyes to Larry. “I think she was trying to talk you into pulling out the stake.”
“Oh-for-godsake,” Jean gasped.
Lane’s head jerked toward her mother. “He didn’t do it,” she said very fast. “I mean, I didn’t realize that thing was supposed to be a vampire, but... I woke him up before he could take the stake out.”
“And what were youdoing out there, young lady?”
“I was worried about him. I didn’t think Dad should have to spend the whole night on the couch just because he had a couple of drinks too many.” She gave Jean a frown. “So after I finished my bath, I went to wake him up so he could go to bed, and he wasn’t there. He was on his way to the garage. So I followed him. I was afraid he’d get hurt. You could tell something was wrong. He was walking in his sleep. He didn’t know whatthe hell was going on.”
“You followed your father into the attic and saw him talking to a corpse.” She looked at Larry. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“I couldn’t help it, Jean. I was asleep.”
“He really was, Mom. You should’ve heard him scream when I woke him up.”
The doorbell rang. Without saying a word, Jean got up from the table. She stepped closer to Lane. Shaking her head, she slid a hand gently down the girl’s hair. Then she hurried from the kitchen.
“I’m really sorry,” Larry said.
“That’s okay. Mom’s really pissed, isn’t she?”
“I’m afraid so. It’s a big shock. For both of you.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t take that stake out.”
“So am I. I was going to do it, huh?”
“Yeah. You had your hand on it when I woke you up.”
The Stake Page 35
