Is that what she'd wanted to show me -- where Wesley'd shaved her?
Maybe there were injuries to see, but I didn't keep looking. I turned away fast. Off beyond the fire, there was no sign of movement at the sleeping area. I thought, Thank God.
Somehow, I had to make Thelma stop all this.
I had to do it on my own.
Things had gone way too far. I never should've untied her hands. One thing had led to another, and now I couldn't see how to end it. Not without shouting for help.
What would they think, if they found us like this?
What I ought to do, I thought, is back off, get away from her, grab the ax and stand up and order her, point blank, to pull her shorts up and . . .
Something tipped me off.
I still had my head turned and was staring toward the sleeping area. I had no intention of looking in Thelma's direction again until I'd backed away. But something happened. I don't know what. Maybe I'd heard a quiet sound that didn't belong. Maybe I'd caught a movement in my peripheral vision. Sensed a change in the air. Something.
I turned my head.
Glimpsed Thelma's hand lurching up toward my belly with a straight razor.
No fooling, a straight razor. The kind with a blade that folds into its handle -- the kind of thing that nobody in his right mind would even own, except a barber. Because they're so damn nasty, and it's too easy to cut yourself by accident if you try to shave with one, and you can't help but think about the sort of damage a crazy woman might do to you if she got her hands on it.
I don't know where the hell Thelma got it.
All I know is that all of a sudden I found her with the damn thing in her hand, and she was about to run it up my belly and split me open.
I let out a yelp and threw myself backward off my knees.
She missed.
I didn't feel anything, but saw her razor-wielding hand sweep up past my face as if she still had hopes of dividing my nose in half.
Then I flopped against the sand.
I shoved myself up with my elbows, not sure whether to kick at her or try scurrying away on my back.
For the moment, she wasn't coming at me. Her head was turned aside.
Was Kimberly getting up?
I didn't waste time trying to find out what Thelma was looking at. She was distracted, at least for a moment. That's what counted.
An extra second to put some distance between me and that blade.
I dug in my elbows and heels and started scooting myself across the sand on my back.
Right away, she noticed.
The instant her eyes shifted in my direction, I cried out, "Help! Help!"
She came waddling toward me like someone whose legs had been chopped off at the knees. Her shorts were still down. They had her trapped, so she couldn't move very fast. Not fast enough to catch me as I kept scooting away.
She was a real vision.
Lurching and flopping flesh, too well lit by a long shot, in spite of the shadows -- her bruised, swollen face grinning. She waved both arms overhead as she kneed her way after me. The razor in her right hand flashed firelight.
"You stay put!" she gasped. "Stay put, you little cocksucker!"
I kept shouting for help.
Then I spotted the ax in the sand, not far from my left elbow. I hauled it toward me by its haft.
"Thelma!"
Kimberly's voice, an angry shout.
Thelma glanced in the direction it had come from. Gasped. Then flung herself at me.
I swung the ax as hard and fast as I could.
The flat side of its steel head struck her in the forearm.
The right forearm.
She cried out and the razor leaped from her hand.
She landed on me. Her head knocked me in the crotch. A second later, though, she rolled off. Making grunty noises, she rolled over a few times and got to her hands and knees. As she staggered to her feet, she snatched up her shorts. Holding them up with both hands, she ran for the inlet.
Kimberly went sprinting after her.
Lean and quick, dark except for the white of her bikini.
At the water's edge, she leaped and reached with both hands for Thelma's shoulders.
A great flying tackle.
Except that Thelma twisted around and smashed her elbow into the side of Kimberly's face. The blow deflected Kimberly. And dropped her. She smacked down on the water, and Thelma kept going.
I was on my knees by then, in spite of the bash to my nuts. I turned to look for the others.
Back at the sleeping area, Connie was sitting up and staring in my direction. Of course, she was too battered to come running to the rescue. And Billie didn't dare leave her behind. Billie, on her feet, a spear in her hands, was standing ready to fight in case Wesley should spring an attack on her and Connie.
I got to my feet and hurried toward the inlet.
Thelma was lunging through thigh-deep, black water. I couldn't see her very well. Suddenly, I thought she was coming back. Which scared the hell out of me. I stopped short. I fought with an urge to turn around and make a run for it.
If I ran, she would finish off Kimberly.
I had just decided to go back for the ax and fight to save Kimberly when I realized that Thelma was smaller than before. Nothing showed below her waist -- because she was in deeper water. She wasn't returning. She'd been wading away, the whole time.
I hurried to help Kimberly.
She was on her hands and knees, head hanging, her face a few inches above the surface of the water. When I reached her, she didn't look up.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
"Kimberly?"
"Go and get her," she muttered. "Don't let her get away."
I looked for Thelma. At first, I couldn't find her. Then I spotted a dim shape way out near the point.
"She's awfully far away," I said.
Kimberly muttered, "Damn it, Rupert."
"I wouldn't be able to catch her."
She groaned.
"Can I help you up?" I asked.
"Don't touch me."
She sounded disgusted.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"You're sorry, all right. Jesus H. Christ."
"I almost got killed."
"That would've been a big loss."
Man. I was beginning to wish Thelma had killed me.
"Okay," I said. "I'll go after her. If that's really what you want. What do you want me to do if I catch up to her? Am I supposed to try and bring her back? Or do you want me to try and kill her? Maybe I'd better take along a knife, or something. Can I have your knife?"
Head still hanging, Kimberly said, "Forget it. Just forget it. Go to bed, or something. Shit."
I'd never felt so low. I mean, you could tell she was completely disgusted with me and thought I was a waste and a loser.
Which is true. I am.
I decided to follow her advice, and go to bed. The problem with that, though, was Billie and Connie. They were there waiting for me, and I was crying pretty good by then. I just couldn't help it.
"What happened?" Billie asked. She didn't sound disgusted with me. She sounded like she cared.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Thelma got away. I let her get away."
"Neat play," Connie said.
"Hush up," Billie said. Then she poked her spear into the sand and came over to where I was standing and put her arms around me.
It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done.
She was all soft and warm and gentle, stroking my hair with one hand and my back with the other while I cried against the side of her neck. She kept murmuring, "It's all right, honey. It's okay. Everything's fine."
She's the best woman I've ever known.
I calmed down pretty soon, thanks to Billie. Then Kimberly came along, so I got out of Billie's arms and turned around to face the music.
"Are you okay, Rupert?" she asked.
"No. I really screwed up."
"You're not hurt, though?" I shook my head.
"How the hell did she get loose?" Connie asked.
"I . . . I untied her hands."
"You outa your fucking mind?"
Billie put a hand on the back of my neck, and rubbed me.