Dark Mountain (24 page)

Nick stared, frozen with shock, as the body surged up out of the lake. The twisted face was not Julie’s. The squirming figure kicked at the sky, and vanished with a huge splash.

Karen lunged forward, knife in her upraised hand.

Rushing in, Nick saw her reach down. Julie was gone. Where? Was she hurt, drowning? He was waist-deep and wading against the heavy push of the water when her head popped to the surface.

Off to Nick’s side, Karen’s left arm came up. Her hand was wrapped with black hair. She raised the woman’s head. Water and blood spilled from the gaping mouth. As the shoulders appeared, she drew back her knife to strike. She hesitated. She lowered the knife. She looked at Nick. “Dead?”

“Looks that way.”

Julie waded toward them. “She dead?”

“What happened?” Nick asked.

“Got her with your knife.” As Julie approached, the water level dropped. The flashlight beam found her. She squinted and turned her face away. Nick groaned at the sight of her torn, bloody jaw and shoulder.

“God, Julie.”

“I’m okay. Let’s take her ashore.”

“I’ve got her,” Karen said.

“Good, ’cause I’ve got one of the packs.”

Nick waited for them to trudge past, Karen towing the body by its hair. It was facedown in the water, floating along, its back and outstretched legs pale in the moonlight. Nick
held the hatchet in his left hand, ready for use, but he saw no signs of life.

Julie was the first to reach the shore. She dropped the pack and returned. She and Karen each took an arm. They dragged the body onto dry land. Benny shined his light on it. Kneeling down, Nick looked at the wounds on its back, two raw pulpy gashes that slowly filled with blood.

“You sure got her,” Benny muttered.

Julie turned the body over, and Nick recoiled at the sight. Benny gasped. Karen turned away, clutching her mouth. Julie muttered, “
Jesus
.”

The torso was split from just above the mons almost to the rib cage. Entrails had spilled from the opening. They looked like a pile of dead snakes.

Julie backed away, shaking her head. Nick went to her. He dropped the hatchet and drew her against him. She put her arms around him. She felt wet and cold. She was shaking badly. “It’s all right,” Nick said.

“I did that,” she muttered.

“You had to.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know. I’ve been through it. Remember?”

“Yeah.” She pressed her face to the side of his neck. He felt the brush of her eyelashes. His right hand, still pinned low by the belt, caressed the chilly skin of her flank.

“Let’s go to the fire,” he said.

“I want to get the other packs.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Yeah. But you love me anyway, right?”

“I sure do.” He kissed her mouth. She hugged him fiercely, apparently forgetting about his wound until he flinched with pain.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I hurt
you
last night.”

She smiled up at him. “You sure did. And don’t you forget it.”

“I’ll never forget it.”

“Do you still respect me?”

“No.”

She laughed softly.

Nick squeezed her rump through the damp, silky fabric of her panties, and she squirmed against him. He felt a warm surge of pleasure.

“Don’t make me feel too good,” she warned. “I won’t want to go back in.”

“I don’t want you to go back in.”

“Duty calls.” After a final, brief kiss, she eased herself away.

Karen was crouched near the shore, Benny holding the light for her as she rummaged through one of the packs. She took out a plastic case. “First-aid kit,” she said. She raised it toward Nick. “Why don’t you take Julie over to the fire and patch her up?”

“I’m all right,” Julie said.

“You’re bleeding all over yourself.”

“I’m gonna get the other packs.”

“I’ll do that,” Karen told her. “You and Nick go over and take care of yourselves.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go on.”

“Thanks,” Nick said.

He took Julie’s hand, and they walked side by side toward the glow of the campfire.

“Maybe you’d better not,” Benny said.

Karen pulled a dripping T-shirt from her pack, and stood up. “Why’s that?” she asked.

“I don’t like it.”

“She’s dead, Benny. It’s over.”

He turned aside and shined his beam on the body. It was still there. It hadn’t moved at all.

Karen covered his hand. She pressed his thumb, sliding it back, switching off the light. “Don’t look at it,” she said. “Why don’t you go on over to the fire? I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

“I want to stay with you.”

“Okay, but keep the light off.”

“I won’t look at her.”

“At me, either?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want my sweatshirt any wetter than it already is,” she said. She wrung out the white T-shirt. Turning away, she pulled off her sweatshirt. Benny swallowed hard. He felt a little breathless as he stared at her moonlit back. The panties looked like a dim shadow across her buttocks. When she raised her arms to pull the T-shirt on, he glimpsed the side of a breast. He felt guilty about looking, but couldn’t help himself. Just as he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes away when she’d been at the fire.

She pulled the T-shirt down to her waist and turned to him. The way it clung, he wanted to shine the light on her. But he didn’t.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m going in.”

“Hurry.”

He watched her wade out into the lake. She was pale against the black water. She looked as if her legs were gone, as if they’d been chopped off just below the surface. The image made him uneasy. He glanced at the body of the witch, only a couple of yards from where he stood, then turned away. He switched on his flashlight, and played it over the ground until he spotted the hatchet where Nick had let it drop. He went to it. He put the flashlight into a pocket of his parka, and bent over. Pain throbbed through his arm, but faded to a dull ache as he straightened up with the hatchet in his left hand.

He stared out at Karen. She was moving slowly to the side, only her head and pale shoulders visible above the black.

Stepping close to the shore, he looked down at her sweatshirt draped over one of the packs. He remembered the soft feel of it when he snuggled with her last night. Then he pictured the way she’d looked in the glow of the firelight when she heated it over the flames and didn’t know he was watching.
No fair peeking
, she’d said.

The witch is naked.

She’s ugly and she’s dead. It’d be perverted to look at her.

But he did. Her breasts, lit by the moon, were gray like stones. The nipples looked almost black.

He glanced toward the campfire. Julie was seated facing the fire. Nick, behind her, was bandaging her shoulder.

He checked the lake. Karen’s head ducked under the surface, and she was gone.

With a few quick steps, he was standing over the witch. He pressed the hatchet between his knees. He took the flashlight from his pocket. He shined it down on her. In the pale glow, her breasts looked smooth. They were dingy white. He could see a network of blue veins through the skin. The nipples were very large. Their red-brown flesh had an odd, blue tinge. His heart was thundering. He felt an erection growing. He felt dirty, nauseated. But he couldn’t look away.

He had never touched a woman’s naked breast. He wondered what one would feel like.

No! She’s dead!

Or maybe she isn’t dead, and she’s willing me.

He switched off the light and took a quick step backward.

The hatchet dropped from between his knees.

He crouched to pick it up, and he was down close to her, gazing at her moonlit breasts. He reached out his trembling left hand.

She grabbed it by the wrist.

Nick slammed against Julie’s back, knocking her forward off the stump. She flung up an arm to protect her head. It rammed the fireplace stones, caving them in. The weight left her back. Raising her head, she saw Nick tumble through the fire in a shower of sparks, a filthy naked man clinging to his back. They were only in the flames for an instant before they rolled through the other low wall. Julie shoved herself up. Nick was on his hands and knees, the man straddling his back, choking him with a forearm just as Fish had choked him.

Julie grabbed a rock. It seared her fingers and fell.

Nick rolled onto his side. She glimpsed the face of the man, and gasped as she recognized it. He was the man who had raped Karen, who had tried to rape her. He was the man Nick had killed nearly a week ago.

Behind her, a twig snapped. She spun around. A teenaged girl was lurching toward her. The girl’s tangled hair was full of dirt. Soil clung to her gray skin. Bite marks marred her shoulders and breasts.

Julie leaped away from the reaching hands. The girl turned and kept coming. “Get away!” Julie cried out.

And then she saw a man staggering out of the darkness behind the girl. His head was down, hanging loosely, swaying and wobbling with each step.

She heard herself whimpering as she backed away. Her heel came down on a rock, and she nearly fell. Catching her balance, she crouched and grabbed the rock. It was warm from the fire, heavy, with jagged edges. She hurled it at the girl. It struck her nose and wide-open mouth. Her head was knocked back by the impact, but she didn’t cry out or wince or even blink her eyes. The rock bounced off her face. It left her nose torn, her upper lip mashed, her teeth broken. There was no bleeding.

Silently, she bent over and picked up the rock.

The man was at her side.

Julie thrust her hand into the fire. She grabbed a stick by its unburnt end and yanked it out. The other end blazed like a torch. She swung it back and forth in front of the two, but they kept coming as if they didn’t care. She backed away. Lurching to the side, she shoved the torch hard against the back of the man on top of Nick. It had no effect. She jabbed his head with it. His tangled hair caught fire. It blazed. But he stayed on Nick’s squirming body and kept on choking him.

She flung her burning stick at the others. It missed the man’s hanging head as he ducked to pick up a rock. Julie glimpsed the wound at the back of his neck—as if a wedge had been chopped out.

She grabbed a foot of the man on Nick. She wrapped
both hands around its cold ankle and pulled, straining backward, dragging him. Nick pried the arm away and shoved the man off him.

Julie yelped as a rock hammered her bandaged shoulder. She dropped the foot and whirled around. The girl swung again. The rock slammed the side of Julie’s face. Her head burst with pain. She stumbled backward, stepped on a leg of the man sprawled behind her, and fell on him. His arms latched around her waist. They squeezed her breath out. She felt the heat of his charred scalp against her back.

The girl bent over her with the rock. Julie kicked at her. The man with the drooping head shoved her aside and threw himself onto Julie. She thrust her hands at him, but her arms folded. He smashed down on her, forehead pounding her face. Through her daze, she heard a yell. She felt a crushing weight for a moment. Then it was gone. She opened her eyes. The man was still on her but his head was gone. Nick had it hugged to his chest as he rolled. He flung it away and got to his hands and knees. His terrified eyes met Julie’s. Then the girl pounced on his back, driving him down.

“
No!”
Julie shrieked as the girl swung her rock at Nick’s head.

He threw his arms behind his head, and they took the blow.

Something hit Julie’s ear. She cried out and held it, and pain erupted in her fingers as the headless man pounded her again with his rock. The arms around her middle let go. With a burst of hope, she thrust at the man’s shoulders, forcing him up a bit. He dropped the rock. He clenched her throat with both hands. She gazed at the pulpy stump of his neck as he forced her down.

She felt a tug at her chest. Heard ripping cloth. Felt icy hands.

The corpse under Julie fondled and squeezed her breasts while the one on top strangled her.

The hand snatching Benny’s wrist had caught him off balance. Numb with horror, he tried to jerk loose. The fingers
held him tight. They yanked, and he fell forward onto the witch. He screamed as his face shoved against a breast. His broken arm burst with pain.

As he lay across her, kneeing the ground, she forced his left arm up behind his back. She grabbed the wrist with her other hand. There was a sudden tug, a thrust at his elbow. He heard a ripping, popping sound as his arm was wrenched out of its shoulder socket. He shrieked and passed out.

Karen was wading backward, chest-deep in the lake, dragging both packs by their straps when she heard an outcry from shore. She swung around. She stared. The straps slid from fingers suddenly gone numb.

She didn’t know, couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Silhouettes of tangled bodies squirming on the ground near the scattered campfire.

A moonlit struggle near the shore.

She lunged forward and swam, clawing the water, kicking with all her strength. Her mind reeled as she raced for shore. What the hell was going on? Where had all those people come from? What if she couldn’t help? What if she got there only to find the others dead? Oh, God, no. Please!

Her plunging hand raked the rocky bottom. She shoved herself to her feet and dashed, splashing the water high. She glanced toward the fire. What’s happening? Then she fixed her gaze on the strange shapes just ahead of her. She felt dry ground under her feet.

It was the woman—the witch—sprawled on her back. Motionless legs stuck out from her side Benny? The hands were on his head, pushing his face to her torn belly, smothering him.

Karen grabbed Benny by the hips and yanked him back. As she dragged him clear, the woman rolled, snarling, clutched the hatchet, and crawled toward them. Karen leaped over Benny. She stomped the hatchet flat against the ground and slammed her other foot into the woman’s face. The head snapped backward. Karen grabbed the chin, the base
of the skull. She twisted hard. The body flipped onto its back. As the head lifted, she drove her heel down, crashing the head against the rocky earth, smashing the nose. The body went limp.