No Sanctuary (26 page)

Bert sat on the log beside Rick. She put an arm around his back.

“First,” Rick said, “I want to thank all of you for rushing to my rescue. It took a lot of guts, and ... I really appreciate it. The thing is, apparently no rescue was necessary. There never was any danger from Jase or Luke or Wally. That was all in our heads. In my head.”

“They did spy on the girls,” Bert reminded him.

“But like they said, who wouldn’t? You take any normal guy, and he’s not going to turn the other way if he has a . chance to look at some attractive females—especially if they’re not wearing much. It wasn’t any crime.”

“They came all the way down the mountain,” Andrea said.

“They denied that,” Bonnie reminded her.

“If they did come down,” Rick said, “we don’t know for sure that it had anything to do with us. But I thought they planned to rape and ... when I collapsed on the trail, I was having some kind of dream or vision that they’d killed all three of you. And I had another dream like that tonight while I was on watch. I was afraid it might be a premonition or something, a warning—so I could stop them sneaking in here.”

“You start telling us you’re psychic,” Andrea said, “I’m gonna shit right here and now.”

“I’ve never been psychic.”

“Thank God. ’Cause if those were premonitions ...”

“He said they weren’t,” Bonnie told her.

“No, all he said was that he’d never been psychic. That doesn’t mean you can discount the possibly that those visions of his—”

“Andrea also believes in extra-terrestrial life forms, ghosts, astrology and Ouija boards.” Bonnie shook her head and grinned. “Not to mention Tarot cards—and don’t believe her when she says she isn’t psychic. She is.” She looked meaningfully at Andrea.

“Remember the time you said that dummy Marion Dahl was gonna be off sick and wouldn’t be in class the next day and she was? Sick, I mean.”

“I keep an open mind, that’s all. I don’t disbelieve shit just ’cause people tell me it’s supernatural nonsense.”

“I don’t think there was anything supernatural about the tricks my imagination was playing,” Rick said.

“I sure the hell hope not,” Andrea said.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious at this point that Jase and the others never meant us any harm.”

“You were worried all along,” Bert said, “about making this trip. Even before we ran into those three guys, you were a nervous wreck. Then, when they showed up, it all seemed to focus on them. You were convinced they were trouble long before you ever had those—hallucinations, or whatever.”

“Yeah. I guess I expected history to repeat itself.” He saw confusion in Bert’s eyes. “I didn’t tell you everything,” he said, “about what happened on that other camping trip.”He looked at Andrea and Bonnie. “The last time I went camping was when I was fourteen. I’ve already told Bert about it. How I broke my leg and my father left me to go for help. What I didn’t tell her before was that my stepmother was with us. Julie. She stayed with me. And a couple of guys came into the camp. They knocked me out. They raped and killed Julie. They did it while I was unconscious. When I came to, the two guys were gone. Julie was naked on the ground and she was dead.”

“Jesus,” Bert muttered. “I wish you’d told me.”

“I’ve never told anyone.”

Bert shook her head. Her eyes glimmered wet in the firelight. Her hand moved up Rick’s back and curled around the nape of his neck. “It must’ve been so awful for you. I’m so sorry.”

“Anyway, that’s why I brought the gun along. I got Julie killed, but I wasn’t going to let it happen to you. Then when we met you two,” he said, glancing at Andrea and Bonnie, “it was all part of the same thing.”

“You couldn’t save Julie,” Andrea said, “so it’s like you wanted to save all of us—to make up for it.”

“Something like that, I guess.”

“Heavy,” Andrea said.

“If I’d known what happened before,” Bert said, “I never would’ve talked you into this.”

“You were so eager. I didn’t want to spoil it for you. Besides, I had no idea I’d suddenly turn into a total paranoid. That other was a long time ago. I figured I’d be able to handle being in the mountains again. But when we got here, it all came back fresh as if the years in between just folded up. Then Jase and his pals walked into the camp. That’s what the others did, just walked into camp and the next thing I knew Julie was dead. The way I saw it, it was all starting over again. But this time I was ready and I had a gun and nobody was going to get hurt except the guys.”

“And I threw away the gun,” Bert muttered.

“You what?” Andrea blurted.

“I threw it in the lake.”

“Holy limping Jesus.”

“It’s all right,” Rick said. “We’re better off without it. I could’ve ... I came pretty close to shooting those guys tonight. And they were innocent.”

“Innocent my ass.”

“They’re creeps,” Bert said, “but they’re not rapists or killers.”

“That remains to be seen,” Andrea said.

“They had my gun,” Rick told her. “They could’ve done whatever they wanted. All they did was hand it over to Beet.”

“We really misjudged those guys,” Bonnie said.

“I sure did,” Rick said, “and I think the rest of you caught it from me. It was contagious. I was so obsessed with this thing.”

“For good reason,” Bert told him.

“If I’d just ... really thought about it rationally. I mean, the odds against something like that happening twice ... It almost couldn’t happen again with odds like that.”

“You hear about the guy who got caught trying to take a bomb with him on an airline flight?” Andrea asked. “They said to him, ‘Are you nuts? You could’ve killed yourself and everyone else on the flight.’ He told them it didn’t have a detonator, so they said, ‘Then what’s the bomb for?’ He said it was a safety precaution. He said, ‘You ever hear of two bombs on a plane?’ ”

Nobody laughed.

“Cute,” Bonnie muttered.

“The odds.”

“We get it,” Bonnie said.

Bert rubbed the back of Rick’s neck. “Are you about ready to turn in?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Does this mean we’re not going to stand watch anymore?” Andrea asked.

“What’s the point,” Bonnie said.

“I guess I’ll stay up for a while, then. Make sure nobody sneaks up on us and ...” She stopped herself. She shrugged. “I’m not very tired anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” Bonnie told her. “But there’s really no point.”

“Maybe not. But it can’t hurt to be careful. Rick did have those visions.”

“Just the daydreams of a disordered mind,” he said, smiling a bit.

“Besides,” Bert said, “the odds.”

“Yeah, the odds. Did you know it’s a common misconception that lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice? It does hit the same place twice. Frequently.”

“On that cheerful note,” Bert said, “goodnight.” Rick told the girls goodnight, and followed her into the tent.

As they lay close together in the darkness, Rick said, “Yeah. ‘Nother thing. I met Angus, our friendly neighborhood preacher-man, earlier. Says he’s lived out here fifty years. Caught me drinking the ‘devil’s brew’ and told me to repent of my wicked ways, or else. He’s out of his gourd. A real freak.”

“Angus?”

“Yes. The bastard that’s been following us around—never mentioned him before. All I’d seen was his shadow. Thought it was part of my general paranoia. But he sure scared the shit outa me tonight. Jumping out like that. Turns out he’s just your average harmless maniac. I guess.”

He started to tell Bert the whole story but she rolled over and put a finger to his lips.

“Tell me about Angus tomorrow,” she said.

Gillian had thought it wouldn’t last long. Half an hour, maybe. Just long enough for Holden to take her up into the hills, probably somewhere along Mulholland, where he’d find a secluded area and open the trunk and do what he had in mind.

This can’t be happening.

It’s happened to a lot of others. It happens all the time. This time, it’s my turn. I’ll be dead. After he’s done with me. It’s impossible.

Gillian knew it was possible.

Not inevitable, though, she told herself. It’s not over yet. It doesn’t have to turn out that way. Maybe he’ll get a flat, or the cops will stop him, or ...

The wires at her feet.

She explored them with the toes of her right foot—the foot on the bottom. There seemed to be a central cable stretched along the front of the trunk. Small clusters of wires ran off it. These, she thought, must be attached to the car’s right rear lights.

Cops will stop a car with dead lights.

Though her feet were bound together tightly at the ankles, she was able to spread them open as if they were hinged at the heels. She damped the main cable between them. She pulled at it, trying to work the wiring loose without a struggle that might make the rope across her throat go tight.

You’ll never break the connection this way, she realized.

Stop screwing around, this is your life!

She ripped at the cable. Newspapers whispered and crackled beneath her as she slid. Her knees pounded the front of the trunk. The rope dug into her throat. She jammed her hands down to give herself slack, bent forward slightly, felt the rope rub between her legs and buttocks, felt the pressure ease across her throat, and kicked back with both feet. The cable gave. It didn’t flop loose, but Gillian was certain that some of the small wires running off to the lights must’ve popped free. She pictured the car moving along the road, the lights dead on its right rear side.

Now if we just get pulled over, she thought.

They didn’t get pulled over.

And Holden didn’t stop in a secluded place in the Hollywood Hills to finish with her.

They would’ve been there by now.

Hours had seemed to go by after Gillian’s struggle with the wiring.

Lying on her side had become unbearable after a while, so she had experimented with moving and found to her surprise that she could lie on her back. By angling herself across the trunk, she was actually able to stretch her legs out. The rope at her throat seemed more like a nuisance than a threat. She had figured out that it would not choke her so long as she kept her back straight and her arms stretched down. But the rope made it impossible for her to reach the knots and work on them. That’s what it’s for, she knew.

In bits and pieces over the hours, during short periods of time when she could focus her mind, Gillian had assembled the puzzle of what Holden must’ve done after she lost consciousness in his house.

First, he stripped her naked. Probably fooled with her. He would, wouldn’t he? Yeah. Maybe even fucked her, though she had no way of knowing, not after the condition Jerry had left her in. When he finished messing with her, he tied her up. Oh, he must’ve got some extra jollies from that, running the rope down from her hands, centering it so it went right into her, turning her over and pulling it up so tight she could actually feel it against her anus, then looping it around her throat so it would choke her if she struggled. Her arms must’ve been bent just a little while he did all that; otherwise, she would’ve been strangled by now. He probably left some slack on purpose, not wanting to have her die in the trunk and miss the fun. Then he bound her ankles together.

Somehow, he got her to his car. His car hadn’t been in the driveway when Gillian went to his house. Maybe he’d put it into the garage. If that’s where it was, he’d simply carried her out the back door to the garage, opened up the trunk, and dropped her in. Maybe took out the spare tire first to make more room, and spread newspapers on the floor of the trunk before putting her in. Newspapers that could be removed later, and burned to destroy any evidence that might be left behind: blood, semen, hairs, the kind of stuff cops vacuum out of a suspect’s trunk and put under a microscope and use in court. Holden had read a lot of books. He knew about such things.

What had he done with her suitcase and clothes? Probably brought them along. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave them in his house. When they got where they were going, he would burn them or bury them or just leave them by her body. Took his scrapbook out of the suitcase, of course. He’d probably searched her suitcase while she was at Jerry’s. Must’ve been a shocker to find the scrapbook and realize she knew his secret. If he’d had any ideas about letting her live, that had put a stop to them. He’d probably had no such ideas, though. How could he pass up a chance like this—to have a victim walk right into his house? Like getting a surprise gift. Which he couldn’t wait to unwrap and try out.

Only try out, though. His own house was no place for really having fun. Not for a careful man like Holden, who traveled out of state to find his victims, who never even killed them in their own homes or apartments but took them out to wild areas where their bodies wouldn’t be found for days or weeks, or at all.

So where’s he taking me? Gillian wondered.

Someplace far away, she thought, or we’d be there by now.

She wondered if it was still night. After sunrise, it wouldn’t matter so much about the dead lights. Maybe she had nailed a brake light, but what good would that do?

Where is he taking me?

From the smooth, steady ride and the engine sounds, she guessed that they were on a freeway—had been on a freeway most of the time.

We’re going very far away, she thought, and then felt herself slip away again.

She woke up gasping with fear and bathed in sweat.

Sweat?

The air in the trunk felt warm. She couldn’t remember it being warm before. She could remember shivering sometimes and wishing she had clothes on, or at least a sheet to cover herself. The warmth meant sunlight.

It’s daytime.

She wondered what time they had left Holden’s house. Maybe three or three-thirty in the morning? There was no way to be sure, since she’d been unconscious, but he’d probably been quick to get on the road. The sun would start heating things up by seven or eight. If it was much later than that, the trunk would probably be a lot hotter.

So we’ve been on the road about four hours, maybe longer.

If he headed south, we’re well into Mexico by now. East, we’re in Arizona.