The Lake - Richard Laymon

Then aimed a karate chop to her throat.

Sheena danced away, still crouching, knife in hand, arms outstretched, still weaving from side to side.

Mace saw red.

“I’ll get ya, bitch!” he spat out, his eyes bulging.

He aimed and missed again, his arm slicing through thin air.

Mattie closed in, clips at the ready, edging her way around the hole, while Sheena went for Mace with her knife. Looking wildly from one to the other, he tripped and lost his footing.

Leigh gasped, “Oh my God!”

The hole. The one Charlie went through.

They watched Mace go, in a cloud of dust and splinters, his legs swinging around in the deep black void, his hands scrabbling, grasping at the soft rotted wood.

They heard him whimper, then gasp out, “Help me help me…help…”

Fascinated, they watched the wood crumble and break away in chunks as he grabbed it. Then he dropped, screaming into the dark below.

A final bloodcurdling shriek and a dull squishy thud told them when Mace hit the deck.

Dust motes danced from the gaping hole, caught in a shaft of the dying sun.

They stared at each other in silence.

Then Mattie’s gaze dropped to the floor.

She saw the Sig and picked it up.

“Mmmm. Nice piece,” she murmured, tucking it into her belt.

SEVENTY-SIX

“Mom!”

“Yes, honey. We’re back.”

Leigh didn’t want to believe her ears.

“Er…How was Boulder?” she asked faintly. “And Aunt Abby, of course.”

Drinking black coffee in the living room, Deana and Mattie perked up.

“Fine, dear. Boulder’s hot and Abby’s taking her beta blockers. But I have to tell you, honey, it’s wonderful to be home again!”

“Sure, Mom. Dad okay?”

Jack West broke in. “I’m fine—and how’s that granddaughter of ours? She been behaving herself?”

“Sure, Dad. Deana’s okay, and she’s right here. Want a word?”

Leigh caught Deana’s eye, jiggled the phone at her, and mouthed, “It’s Pops. You wanta say hello?” Deana nodded, made a face at Mattie, and walked over to Leigh. She took the phone.

“Hi, Pops. How ya doin? Aunt Abby better?”

“She sure is, darlin’. But, like your gran says, we’re real glad to be home. So, what’s my favorite granddaughter been doing all summer?”

“Well, er…Oh, just messin’ around.”

“Just messin’ around, huh? When your gran and I are unpacked and showered, we’ll be right over, then we can have a nice long chat. So don’t go rushing off, young lady. Like you did at my birthday dinner!”

“Okay, Pops. I’ll be here…”

The doorbell jangled.

Mattie raised her brows. Deana and Leigh exchanged glances. Leigh’s heart sank. How could she ever explain to Mom and Dad all that had happened since they went away to Boulder?

With a resigned sigh, Leigh went down the hallway and opened the door.

“Oh…Hi, guys!” Her voice picked up a notch when she saw Warren, Sheena, and Sabre on the stoop. Warren was holding a couple of books.

“It’s so good to see you both again!” Leigh was saying in a relieved voice. Warren stepped inside, and Sheena followed. Sabre trotted behind.

When they were all in the living room, Warren told Deana, “I brought the books you asked for. Elmore Leonard for you, and Dylan Thomas for Leigh. Maybe you’ll get a chance to read them now.”

Deana threw him a wink. “Nice timing, Warren,” she said. “Gran and Pops are back from Boulder and they’re due here any minute.”

They arrived a half hour later.

Deana made for the kitchen to heat up the coffee.

Warren followed.

After the introductions, Mom lowered herself down on the sofa. Shooting a fearful look at Mattie and Sheena—Mattie in her MVPD sweatshirt, denim cutoffs, and gun holster, and Sheena, Amazon-like…long flowing hair, tight black tee, leather shorts, and studded belt.

Leigh glanced at Mom’s face—red and mottled as she stared, first at the women, then at Sabre, tucked in tight, by Sheena’s bare legs.

Leigh rushed over to the wet bar and poured out liberal measures of J.D.’s into two balloon glasses. She handed them to her parents.

There was an awkward silence.

Leigh’s bruised face glowed as she met Mom’s glance.

“Now, young lady.” Dad, glass in one hand, massaging the back of Mom’s neck with the other, threw a meaningful look at his daughter. “I think you have some explaining to do…”

Christ Jesus, Leigh groaned inwardly. It’s Wahconda and Charlie all over again.

Not quite.

It’s Wahconda and Charlie, eighteen years on.

What goes around comes around…

Clear as crystal, the words of the song popped into her head, making her smile. She felt a million years old. Very wise, and somehow philosophical about all that had happened this summer.

Sitting cross-legged at the far end of the sofa, she smiled at Mom, took a deep breath, and said:

“Remember Nelson? He of beef Willington fame?”

Taking a sip of brandy, Mom nodded slowly…

In the kitchen, Deana gave Warren a cheeky grin. “Looks like we got ourselves a situation out there!” She paused, head tilted to one side, then said, “So, lover boy, you came over to deliver our books?”

“Right.”

“That sure is one lousy excuse! Admit it, Warren Hastings, you just couldn’t keep away!”

They smiled broadly, and their eyes met.

Suddenly, they weren’t laughing anymore. They were deadly serious.

“God, Deana. It’s been a helluva long time.” Warren’s voice was low, breathy. “Too long.” He held out his arms. “Wanta finish off our…unfinished business?”

“Mmmm. Don’t I just…”

Deana snugged into him, pressing close, her arms tight around him. Their lips met. His searching, impatient; hers puffy, bruised, and hurting like hell. She pressed into him some more, feeling him stir and rise against her belly. Moaning, she felt the teasing ache between her thighs.

Damn right, she thought. It’s been a long, long time…

Too long…

She trembled as his hand stole inside her blouse, shivering as he reached for her naked breast. He held it, squeezed it a little, his thumb stroking her taut nipple beneath the filmy cloth.

She moaned, squirming, wanting more—did a little exploring of her own. Easing in against him, she peeled down the zipper of his pants. Her hand closed around him, feeling his hard-on, strong and warm…They moved against each other in a steady rhythm.

Then, abruptly drawing away, she whispered, “Later, Warren. Later. Soon as Gran and Pops are gone, we can…”

“Promise?”

“Mmmmm,” she sighed, a surge of joy welling inside her.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

She smiled softly, and her arms tightened around him…

AFTERWORD OR HOW THINGS TURNED OUT

by Deana Hastings

Everybody has a dream. Well, pretty much everybody I knew at Berkeley had one. Something to pin your hopes on, y’ know? Mine was to write the great American novel. Oh yeah? I know, I know…but seriously, that’s why I read American lit. And considering the stuff we’d been through that summer of ’99, I figured I’d enough material to write several novels. So that’s what I do.

Write novels, I mean.

Couldn’t have done it without Warren, though. Had his support all the way—once we decided to “finish what we started” the night we saw the last of Mommy Dearest.

We married soon after I graduated, and our first joint project was to coauthor a nonfiction work, Lore and Legend of Native America which later, would you believe, became a smash-hit TV series!

Since then, as well as running Eureka, Warren’s written a couple more books. Pretty serious stuff: Shakespeare and the Dark Lady, based on his theory that she was actually an illegitimate daughter of King Henry VIII of England.

Next up was The Secret Side of Edgar Allan Poe.

That went down really well in the U.K. We were so thrilled when it hit 3rd place in the Times nonfiction bestseller list. We’re keeping our fingers crossed for upcoming film rights, too—maybe starring Johnny Depp? He’s still my favorite actor, by the way.

Our second joint project, and most successful to date, were our triplets—yeah, triplets, how about that?

Spooky, eh?

We named them Jack, Warren Junior, and Helen. And get a loada this. At birth, Helen had a head of thick, black hair. The nurses swore they’d never seen anything like it before!

Jeez. I’m trying not to dwell too much on that. For now, she’s simply our darling little daughter…

Anyhow, six months after the Mace ordeal, Mom met up with her old pal, Ben Dornay. They married a couple of weeks later. Ben Junior came along ten months after that.

Then Mom opened three more restaurants along the Coast; phew, that woman is truly amazing—she has so much energy! Ben Senior realized his dream, also (everybody has one, right?), and founded the successful computer animation studio Megatron. The man is pure genius!

Right now, they’re enjoying the good life in Beverly Hills and, in the best movie tradition, are living happily ever after. Mom and Ben make a perfect couple. I’ve never seen Mom look so content—and that’s fine by me. She sure deserves it!

As for Mattie and Sheena—well, they got together shortly after the Mace affair and now live in San Diego. Mattie’s gotten her own personal security company, hiring herself out, and her team of bodyguards, to some pretty important people: Hollywood stars, government officials, heads of state…

Sheena opened up Movers & Shakers, a club in West L.A., a twenty-four-hour hangout for gays and other kindred spirits. The club attracts major celebs—incognito, of course—and I’m told it’s a huge success. As a legacy from her Pacey days, Sheena often stands on the door. Keeping her hand in, she calls it.

And yeah, Sheena and I get along fine—after all, we do have something in common, apart from Payne blood. Like die-hard sports! When she drops by our place in Mill Valley, she gives me kickboxing lessons—and I take her out on my “midnight runs.” With Warren, of course. He worries about the weird characters sneaking around at night. Men!

Oh, and Sabre comes, too—except when his hips act up. Then he stays home and takes it easy. He’s just reached his tenth birthday—and I’m told that’s pretty good for a German shepherd dog!

RAVE REVIEWS FOR RICHARD LAYMON!

“I’ve always been a Laymon fan. He manages to raise serious gooseflesh.”

—Bentley Little

“Laymon is incapable of writing a disappointing book.”

—New York Review of Science Fiction

“Laymon always takes it to the max. No one writes like him and you’re going to have a good time with anything he writes.”

—Dean Koontz

“If you’ve missed Laymon, you’ve missed a treat.”

—Stephen King

“A brilliant writer.”

—Sunday Express

“I’ve read every book of Laymon’s I could get my hands on. I’m absolutely a longtime fan.”

—Jack Ketchum, author of The Girl Next Door

MORE PRAISE FOR RICHARD LAYMON!

“One of horror’s rarest talents.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Laymon is, was, and always will be king of the hill.”

—Horror World

“Laymon is an American writer of the highest caliber.”

—Time Out

“Laymon is unique. A phenomenon. A genius of the grisly and the grotesque.”

—Joe Citro, The Blood Review

“Laymon doesn’t pull any punches. Everything he writes keeps you on the edge of your seat.”

—Painted Rock Reviews

“One of the best, and most reliable, writers working today.”

—Cemetery Dance

Other Leisure books by Richard Laymon:

INTO THE FIRE

COME OUT TONIGHT

RESURRECTION DREAMS

ENDLESS NIGHT

BODY RIDES

BLOOD GAMES

TO WAKE THE DEAD

NO SANCTUARY

DARKNESS, TELL US

NIGHT IN THE LONESOME OCTOBER

ISLAND

THE MUSEUM OF HORRORS (anthology)

IN THE DARK

THE TRAVELING VAMPIRE SHOW

AMONG THE MISSING

ONE RAINY NIGHT

BITE

Copyright

A LEISURE BOOK®

November 2005

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

200 Madison Avenue

New York, NY 10016

Copyright © 2004 by Richard Laymon

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0295-6

The name “Leisure Books” and the stylized “L” with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Visit us on the web at www.dorchesterpub.com.

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five