His friend looked a couple of years younger, maybe eighteen. He was shorter and heavier, but not fat. His T-shirt bulged with muscles and was cut off just below his ribcage. For a hat, he wore an army helmet liner. Around his waist was a wide web belt with a canteen hanging at one side and a knife at the other. He wore plaid Bermuda shorts. He looked slightly ridiculous, but Rick didn’t feel like smiling.
“You got some trouble there?” asked the thin one.
“My son broke his leg yesterday.”
“Bad place for a thing like that.”
With the help of a crutch Julie had made for him after preparing the splints, Rick pushed himself up. He stood beside Julie, most of his weight on his right leg, using the crutch for balance.
“We’re getting along okay,” Julie said. “Did you come down from Windover Pass?” she asked.
“Nope. Heading that way. Mind if we rest up for a minute?”
“Help yourselves.”
They lowered their backpacks to the ground, but didn’t sit down. “Nice camp,” the lean one said. “Just the two of you?”
“My husband’s around here someplace,” Julie said. She looked off toward the outcroppings beyond Rick’s tent. “Dave?” she called.
Rick, already concerned by the presence of the two men, was frightened by Julie’s lie.
“I’m sure he’ll be along in a minute. He just went after some firewood.”
“Right.” The lean man turned to his friend. “Dave went after firewood. How many packs you see?”
The stocky one smiled. “Just two. I’ll just bet Dave hiked out to get help for the kid.”
Rick felt as if his lungs were caving in. He swayed on his one leg and crutch.
It’s okay, he told himself. They’re jerks, but nothing’s going to happen.
Julie shook her head. In a voice that sounded calm, she said, “My brother-in-law hiked out. Dave’s just over—”
“Hey Dave!” the heavy one yelled. “Yoo-hoo, Daaavy! Where arrre you?” He shrugged. “Gosh, Jiff, I don’t know where he could be.”
Jiff, grinning, took a step toward Julie.
Julie’s back stiffened. “Now don’t ...”
He barely moved, just reached his left hand across to the walking stick by his right leg and rammed it upward with both hands. The point caught Julie under the chin. Her head snapped back. Her arms flew up. She was still falling when Jiff pivoted and swung the staff at Rick. It smashed him above the ear.
There was a terrible, roaring pain in his head. He thought, I shouldn’t have drunk so much booze last night. If this is what it means to have a hangover ... Groaning, he opened his eyes.
He wasn’t in the tent. Above him, the leaves of trees were shivering in the wind. He lifted his head off the ground, felt himself spinning, and twisted onto his side. The sudden motion shot pain through his head and leg. Vomit erupted out of him.
Good thing I’m not in the tent, he thought vaguely.
When he was done vomiting, he wiped his teary eyes. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, blew his nose, and cleaned his mouth and chin. Then he sat up.
He saw Julie naked on the ground.
He remembered.
The men!
He looked around quickly, making his head whirl. The men seemed to be gone.
“Julie!” he yelled.
She didn’t move. She was sprawled on her back a few yards away. She still had her knee socks on. And one shoe. Her blouse lay in a heap near her head. Her shorts were on the ground dose to the shoe that was off.
Don’t look at her, Rick warned himself. She’s naked. God, naked. You might get turned on, and if you hadn’t been looking at her yesterday, trying to see up her shorts ...
As sick as he felt, and as guilty and frightened, he realized there was little need to worry about becoming aroused.
From where he sat, Rick didn’t see any blood on her. But she didn’t look right.
“Julie?” he asked again.
She’s just out cold, he told himself. Like I was. That’s good. Maybe she’d been unconscious while the men did things to her. They must have done things to her, or why were her clothes off?
When she woke up, she would know.
It’ll be all right, Rick thought. I’ll take good care of her. I’ll cover her first. That’s the first thing I’ll do, so I won’t keep looking at her.
Cringing as the pains in his head and leg punished him with burning throbs, he thrust himself up with his crutch. Another wave of dizziness came. He swayed, barely staying up as the ground tipped and turned. When the dizziness passed, he hobbled over to Julie.
She had a dark bruise where the walking stick had hit her under the chin. Her eyes were shut. Her lips and cheeks were crusted with something, as if white glue had been squirted around her mouth and dried. Rick wondered what it was. Then he knew.
Gagging, he turned his eyes quickly away from her face. But what he saw only added to his disgust and horror. The skin of her shoulders was bruised and dented from bites. Her breasts still held the imprint of fingers, as if they had been fiercely squeezed. Fingernails had left tiny, crescent-shaped impressions. Her nipples looked chewed. Rick covered his mouth and shut his eyes. But he had to look again. Lower, she was caked with dried blood and more semen. Rick had never seen that part of a woman before, just in a few pictures.
Embarrassment suddenly pushed its way through Rick’s other agony. Even though he wasn’t turned on, what if Julie woke up and saw him staring there?
He bent over and lost his balance. Though he waved an arm to steady himself, he knew it was useless. He flung the crutch from his other hand and reached beyond Julie as he fell. For a moment, he was braced above her like a bridge. But his left leg gave out as pain blasted up it. He collapsed. He fell on Julie.
He started to cry.
She was naked, and Rick had nothing on but swimming trunks, and he was lying on her. Her bare skin against him. He could feel the jut of her hipbone, her flat belly, her ribcage. He could feel a breast against this side, just below his armpit.
If she comes to now ...
There was no movement under Rick.
No rise and fall of Julie breathing.
Of course she’s breathing, he thought.
But she wasn’t ...
Rick’s mind seemed to freeze. He shoved himself off Julie, rolled onto his side with his head resting on her outstretched arm. He saw his hand reach out as if it belonged to someone else. It curled around her throat. His fingers searched for the feel of blood pumping through arteries and veins below her jaw.
Then he was up on an elbow, sobbing as he shook Julie by the shoulder. Her head wobbled from side to side. He waited for her eyes to open.
They didn’t.
They never would.
Chapter Seven
Gillian’s first task, after securing the house, was to determine the name of its owner.
On the coffee table were several magazines: People, Playboy, Los Angeles and Newsweek. They had apparently been bought in stores, and bore no subscription labels.
Gillian went into the den. She shut the curtains across the glass door, then turned on a lamp. On top of the television, along with two remote control units, was a copy of TV Guide. It had a label with the address of this house.
The owner, therefore, was undoubtedly Fredrick Holden.
So, she thought, I’m house-sitting for Uncle Fred. Or is it Unde Rick? I’d better just stick with Uncle Fredrick till I find out what he goes by.
With the lamp off, she stepped under the curtains and slid the door open. She carefully peeled off the duct tape she had used to hold the glued section of glass in place. She wadded it in her hand, shut and looked the door, turned on the lamp again, and tossed the tape into a waste basket she found behind the bar.