Читать книгу Kiss Me Hard - Thomas B. Dewey - Страница 6

Hazel was asleep, her tangled hair dark against the pale grass, her body silver and gray shadows under the moon. Her breasts rose and fell gently with her breathing. The inner music had stopped and there was nothing now but silence, broken now and then by the chirping of crickets, the hoarse croaking of a frog. The grass was cool against my face as I turned to look at her.

I had felt calm and peaceful at first and I had slept for a while, easily, without dreams, but now I was jumpy. I raised myself slowly, easing my arm out from under Hazel’s head, trying not to waken her, and groped for my clothes. I found the pint bottle in my coat pocket and drew it out. I uncapped it, took a long pull and felt the warmth of the whisky spread through me. While I was putting the bottle away again, I felt Hazel stir beside me and when I looked around, her eyes were watching me.

“Drink?” I said.

“No, darling.”

I sat there for a while.

“Think we’d better go?” I said.

She stretched lazily, lifting her arms in the air.

“There’s no hurry,” she said. “We’ve got all the time in the world—now.”

Then I remembered what I’d forgotten, what had been drowned in the music and the fire and the sleep that followed. We were going away together. Suddenly it didn’t seem so crazy. It seemed all right. It seemed natural.

“Do you want to go home first?” I asked.

“There’s nothing there I need,” she said. “How about your hotel?”

“Two dirty shirts and a worn-out pair of shoes.”

“We can get more shirts.”

“Sure.”

She stretched again, luxuriously in the deep grass. Slowly she got to her feet and began doing something with her hair. I watched her for a while—the good, full breasts, the clean, curving lines of her thighs. Pretty soon I reached out and caught her ankle. She smiled at me with her hands in her hair. I pulled her down beside me. Faintly and far off, the music started again.

Suddenly she stiffened in my arms. She raised her head, listening. I paused and listened too.

There was the sound of a car, a smooth motor purring far away, but coming closer.

After a minute I relaxed and pulled her close to me. “We’re off the road,” I said. “They’ll go on by.”

She pulled away, tense. My hand was on her thigh and I felt gooseflesh. The car came nearer, winding up the low hill, the way we had come into the clearing. Suddenly Hazel jumped to her feet, picked up her dress and began pulling it on. I got up too.

“What’s the difference?” I said. “We’re going away.”

“The car,” she said. “Somebody might recognize it. It’s in plain sight.”

“But listen—” The car was quite close now and we could see the waving glow of its headlights through the trees. We were only a few feet from the road. Hazel was struggling with her dress, fumbling at the buttons. She didn’t seem able to work them. I began to dress. Some of her fear had got into me and my own fingers were trembling, but I made it. I buttoned my shirt, listening to the sound of the car, watching Hazel. And then the car stopped.

It had stopped close by. The light from the headlights was bright in the clearing. And then they went out and there was quiet. Hazel had given up trying to button her dress. I put my hand on her arm and she was trembling.

“Get hold of yourself,” I whispered. “Some farmer. He’ll go away.”

She didn’t seem to hear me. She stood, taut as an E-string on a fiddle, her dress fluttering slightly in the slow breeze, her head bent to one side.

I heard the click of a door latch, then nothing for a while. I stood still, feeling my own heart beat, feeling Hazel’s panic as she stood, waiting.

A thin light probed the clearing and I heard footsteps in the grass, a small, whispering sound. The light went here and there, playing over the convertible and on the trees that surrounded the clearing. It advanced slowly toward the car. I touched Hazel again and she stiffened away from me.

My eyes worked, trying to blend the sharp flashlight beam with the moonlight, so I could see who it was. The moon was still bright enough to show that whoever had the light was big, was a man, but I couldn’t make out any definite shape or features. Then he got to the convertible, turned his back to us and leaned in, flashing the light into the seat. I recognized him then—the “big bastard,” the “pig,” the “gorilla” who sometimes hung around the tavern. The husband.

I glanced at Hazel. She had opened her mouth wide. I reached over to cover it with my hand, but she twisted away and screamed. She screamed piercingly and in terror and the man at the convertible turned and flashed his light toward us.

She ran, stumbling a little in her haste, screaming all the way—toward the convertible, toward her husband. Her unbuttoned dress spread out behind her.

“Danny!” she screamed.

I took a couple of steps after her, then stopped as the meaning of it sank in. I felt hollow in the pit of my stomach. The sound of her screaming went through me like shock waves. She threw herself on him, her hands clutching at his coat lapels. I heard her moan softly, “Oh, Danny. Thank God you came.”

I stood there near the trees, thirty feet away from him across the clearing and I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. I stood there while he played the flashlight over me slowly. He took plenty of time about it and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and hard, edged with a kind of gloating anticipation.

“Well, well,” he said. “It’s the piano player.”

There wasn’t a hell of a lot for me to say. Hazel was sobbing hysterically against his chest, and he pushed her away with one hand.

“This man give you some trouble, honey?” he said.

He played the light over her.

“Button up your dress,” he said.

Obediently she did it. Her hands were steadier now. Bitterness drove words into my mouth.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I said. “Lose your nerve?”

The flashlight swung back to cover me.

“Don’t listen to him, Danny,” she said. “Take me home. Please, now.”

“Get in the car,” he said.

She climbed into the convertible and slid behind the wheel. The flashlight beam was steady on me. His snotty voice came again.

“There’s two ways to deal with this,” he said. “One is my way—personal. The other is with the law. I think I’ll give you some of both.”

I still couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Turn on the lights,” he said.

“Please, Danny,” Hazel said. “Let’s just go home.”

“Turn on the goddam lights!”

She switched on the headlights. They threw bright light into the clearing. I was standing at the edge of the light circle and Danny Boy was a big black shadow beside the car. The flashlight went off and he tossed it onto the seat of the convertible. He started toward me across the clearing. The contrast in light and dark made his shadow loom like a skyscraper, only with those thick, sloping shoulders he was a top-heavy skyscraper. He moved slowly, his feet shuffling through the grass.

I didn’t have any choice. I wasn’t brought up to be a fighter. I was brought up to play the piano. Besides, the only thing there had been to fight for was now cowering behind the wheel of a car, crying over her own spilt milk. I had nothing to do with this anymore. I was used to running. I was good at it. Even in the dark. Even in a strange countryside.

So I turned and ran, straight back into the trees, away from the lights and the convertible, away from Hazel. I heard Danny curse behind me as I broke and then his feet, heavy, pounding through the brush after me. I ran with my hands out in front to ward off the branches of trees. The moon was shut out here and there was no way to tell where I was going or what might turn up in front of me. But I saw the steel fence in time to turn and follow it, stooping, along the edge of an open field. The trees were on my left, and between the fence and the trees was a path three or four feet wide that was easy going—but I knew it would be just as easy for Danny. My breath was loud now and my heart pounded in my head and I couldn’t tell whether he was behind me or not. If he knew about the fence he might have cut across to head me off.

That pulled me up and I grabbed a strand of the fence and stopped long enough to listen and look back, panting for breath. He wasn’t behind me on the path. I sucked in air and strained, listening. For a while I didn’t hear anything. I guessed he had stopped too. Then there was the sound of his running again. It came from off to my left and behind me among the trees. So he did know about the fence.

I started back slowly, walking carefully on the path, doubling back along the fence, listening as I went. The big ape went on, trying to head me off, and I slipped back along the fence, a little faster all the time, till I saw him come out of the trees to the fence. Then I ducked back into the woods myself and raced toward the clearing, where the headlights of the convertible still glowed. I hoped Danny Boy would thrash around long enough to give me three or four minutes.

Hazel was sitting behind the wheel of the convertible, staring around. I was in deep shadow and I knew she couldn’t see me unless she turned out the car lights. Since her ever-loving husband had told her to turn them on, I doubted that she would dare to turn them off.

I walked quietly toward the rear of the car, skirting the clearing to keep out of the light. My eyes were on the redhead at the wheel and she didn’t glance around. I moved faster, made a wide circle around the rear of the car and then approached it along the driver’s side, walking on tiptoe. By the time I had reached the door she still hadn’t looked around. But when I spoke her name softly she jumped straight up, jerked her head around and opened her mouth to scream. I clamped my hand over it, forcing her head back against the top of the seat.

“Listen,” I said. “You wanted to run away. Now’s your chance. I’m going to get in and you’re going to drive.”

Her eyes were wide. She moved her head, trying to get away from my hand over her mouth and I tightened the grip and pulled her around to face me again. I stuck my right hand in my coat pocket and pulled out the pint bottle.

“The next sound you hear,” I said, “will be the top of this bottle breaking off. It won’t hurt you if you behave yourself.”

I clenched my teeth and banged the top of the bottle on the metal frame of the car top. It splintered away and what was left of the whisky spilled onto the car and splashed on my hand. I held the jagged end up where she could see it.

“Open the door,” I said.

Her hand found the latch and it clicked. The door opened. I held the broken bottle two inches from her face and took my hand off her mouth.

“Stand up,” I said.

She got on her feet, bending over the wheel, holding it to steady herself.

“I’m going to slide under you,” I said. “Don’t make me stab your beautiful behind with this bottle.”

I slid onto the seat and across it to the other side. I put my hand on her arm and she sat down behind the wheel again.

“Get going,” I said. “There’s time.”

“Chris—”

“Just get going.”

She started the engine. She’d had it in reverse and the car jumped backward and stalled. She changed the gear, started it again. She had been sitting taut and stiff, her head up high, but suddenly she crumpled forward, her head fell onto the wheel and she began to cry.

“Oh, God,” I said.

“I can’t, Chris,” she said, the words broken and indistinct. “I can’t do it—I haven’t got—”

“I know it,” I said. “Just get me out of here. Now.” Before I could react, she had opened the door and was scrambling out of the car. She pushed the door shut and stood with both hands on it, looking at me across the seat. “Take the car, Chris. Go ahead. Forget about me.”

“Look, baby—”

“Take the car, Chris! It’s yours. Only go away and don’t come back. He’ll kill you.”

I didn’t have time to argue. I slid back under the wheel, she crumpled up again, backing away from the car with her hands over her face.

“So long, baby,” I said. “Have a happy life.”

I don’t think she heard me.

I jammed the thing into reverse and backed in a half-circle over the rough ground. The lights flashed on the edge of the clearing, the clump of trees where we’d been a short time before, and I saw Danny Boy come charging out. I gunned the car and twisted the wheel, heading for the road a few feet away. There was another car parked now just beyond the place where we’d turned off. The rear end partly blocked the narrow lane. The left rear fender of the convertible crumpled as I skinned by and twisted into the road. I didn’t look back.

When I came out of the wooded area and looked across the fields I saw that it was getting light in the east. Straight ahead of me, in a shallow valley, the lights of the town still glowed feebly.

When you’re in a panic and half your blood has turned to alcohol, you don’t always think straight. As I plunged down toward town in the convertible I remembered two things in my hotel room. One was a five-dollar bill I’d tucked away under the mattress. The other was a pint bottle of whisky. I couldn’t get them out of my mind. All I had in my pocket was three dollars and some change. Two of the dollars had come from Hazel. I wondered whether she’d got her money’s worth.

I knew it would be silly to hang onto the car. They’d find me right away. I’d have to leave it, and not far from town. I figured that by the time Danny and the redhead got into the other car and got it turned around, I’d have enough head start for a quick stop.

All right. But that’s the way I figured it out at the time.

I raced into the sleeping town toward the main street. It would be broad daylight in a few minutes. Two blocks from the hotel I slowed down and finally cut the engine. I turned the corner and stopped opposite the side entrance, where Hazel had picked me up. I wondered who had been watching us—who had tipped off the ape-man husband.

I went into the hotel and glanced at the desk. The clerk was asleep, as usual. I tiptoed to the stairs and went up two at a time. The window of my room was open and as I unlocked and opened the door I heard the roar of a car coming into town and then a sudden braking. I looked out the window. Danny’s car was stopped at the corner and he was climbing out, moving toward the convertible. I ducked back from the window as he glanced up at the hotel.

So my time had run out. I couldn’t remember where I’d hidden my bottle. On my way past the bed I slid my hand under the mattress, feeling for the five-dollar bill, but it wasn’t there. I went on out into the hall.

At the rear end of the hall was a window giving on a fire escape. I went back there. The window was closed but unlocked. I raised it and stepped onto the rickety iron framework. It trembled under me. I went down the steps toward the alley that ran behind the building on the main street.

I walked fast, away from the street where I’d parked the convertible, toward the south end of town. Two blocks ahead of me the alley angled to the left and found its way back to the main street. From there I would have to cross the railroad tracks, get into the woodlands on the other side of town and head for the highway three miles beyond. It would be a long run, but it could work.

I came to the turn in the alley and moved along to the street. There was a red-brick building fronting on the main street and I made my way along it slowly to where I could look around the corner, back toward the hotel. I heard a freight train rumbling over the nearby tracks, but didn’t think much about it.

The street and sidewalk were clear and I stepped out of the alley, and walked fast along the walk toward the tracks.

The freight wasn’t going to stop. It had slowed to maybe thirty-five miles an hour and it looked like a long one.

I heard a quick shout behind me.

“There he is!”

I looked back and saw half a dozen men grouped in front of the hotel. One of them was Danny, the gorilla. They started after me along the walk.

The long freight blocked my path to the woods. I couldn’t jump between the cars to the other side and I didn’t have time to wait for it to pass. If I could catch it, I might get away. But it was speeding up now and I still had fifty yards to go to reach the tracks. I started to sprint, hearing the shouts behind me over the train’s rattle. I heard a powerful car coming, first behind the shouts, then drowning them out as it passed the running men.

I didn’t look back any more. I couldn’t hear the crowd now because of the noise the train made. It was making good time and I forced myself to speed up as I came alongside, running on the gravel beside the ties. I reached for a ladder on a boxcar, but it came too fast and my hands tore loose before I could get a grip. The next car was an oil tanker and I leaped for the wooden catwalk, got one arm and a leg over it and held on, waiting for my bursting lungs to quiet down.

When I looked back, the mob that had chased me out of town was standing in the field, looking after the train. One, who looked like Danny, limped back toward them from the tracks. He looked as if he might have tried to grab the rattler too, and missed.

I lay still for a long time with my arm and leg hooked over the edge of the catwalk and the next time I looked back I couldn’t see any of the town.