“It hurts,” he said.
His hand squeezed more tightly. His grip felt strange. Glancing down, Donna saw that he was holding her with only two fingers and the thumb of his right hand. The other two glove fingers remained straight. With a vague stir of revulsion, she realized there were probably no fingers inside those parts of the glove.
“I’m sorry it hurts,” Donna said, “but you’re hurting me, now.”
“You’ll run.”
“No. I promise.”
His tight grip eased. “I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he said. He sounded as if he might cry. “I just wanted in. You didn’t have to hurt me.”
“I was frightened.”
“I just wanted in.”
“Where are you hurt?”
“Here.” He pointed at the back of his head.
“I can’t see.”
Groaning, he rolled over. Donna saw the pale shape of a rock on the ground where his head had been. Though the night was too dark to be certain, there didn’t seem to be blood on his head. She touched it, feeling the soft brush of his hair stubble, and found a lump. Then she inspected her fingers. She rubbed them together. No blood.
“I’m Axel,” the man said. “Axel Kutch.”
“I’m Donna. I don’t think you’re bleeding.”
“Dah-nuh.”
“Yes.”
“Donna.”
“Axel.”
He got to his hands and knees and turned his face to her. “I just wanted in.”
“That’s okay, Axel.”
“Do I have to go now?”
“No.”
“Can I stay with you?”
“Maybe we can all go away. Will you drive us somewhere for help?”
“I drive good.”
Donna helped him to stand. “Why don’t we wait for the fog to lift, then you can drive us somewhere for help.”
“Home.”
“Your home?”
He nodded. “It’s safe.”
“Where do you live?”
“Malcasa Point.”
“Is that nearby?”
“We’ll go there.”
“Where is it, Axel?”
He pointed into the darkness. North.
“We’ll go home. It’s safe.”
“Okay. But we have to wait for the fog to lift. You wait in your car, and we’ll wait in ours.”
“Come with me.”
“When the fog lifts. Good-bye.” She feared he would try to stop her from getting into the car, but he didn’t. She shut the door and rolled down the window. “Axel?” He limped closer. “This is my daughter, Sandy.”
“San-dee,” he said.
“This is Axel Kutch.”
“Hi,” Sandy greeted him, her voice soft and uncertain.
“We’ll see you later,” Donna said. She waved good-bye and rolled up the window.
For a few moments, Axel stared silently in at them. Then he climbed the slope and was gone.
“What’s wrong with him?” the girl asked.
“I think he’s…slow.”
“You mean a retard?”
“That’s not a nice way to put it, Sandy.”
“We’ve got them like that at school. Retards. Know what they’re called? Special.”
“That sounds a lot better.”
“Yeah, I guess. Where’d he go?”
“Back to his car.”
“Is he leaving?” Sandy’s voice was eager with hope.
“Nope. We’ll wait for the fog to thin out, then he’s going to drive us out of here.”
“We’re going in his car?”
“Ours isn’t going anyplace.”
“I know, but…”
“Would you rather stay here?”
“He scares me.”
“That’s just because he’s strange. If he wanted to do us harm, he’s had plenty of opportunity. He certainly couldn’t find a better location for it than right here.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Anyway, we can’t just stay here.”
“I know. Dad’ll get us.” The girl’s eyes were black holes in the oval of her face. “Dad’s not in prison anymore, is he?”
“No, he’s not. The district attorney…remember Mr. Goldstein?…he telephoned this morning. They let Dad out yesterday. Mr. Goldstein called to warn us.”
“Are we running away?”
“Yes.”
The girl on the floor lapsed into silence. Donna, resting against the steering wheel, closed her eyes. At some point, she fell asleep. She was awakened by a quiet sob.
“Sandy, what is it?”
“It won’t do any good.”
“What won’t?”
“He’ll get us.”
“Honey!”
“He will!”
“Try to sleep, honey. It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
The girl became silent except for an occasional sniff. Donna, leaning on the steering wheel, waited for sleep. When it finally came, it was a tense, aching half-sleep feverish with vivid dreams. She stood it as long as she could. At last, she had to get out. If the rest of her body could endure the torment, her full bladder couldn’t.
Taking the box of Kleenex from the floor beside Sandy, she climbed silently from the car. The chilly air made her shake. She breathed deeply. Rolling her head, she tried to work the stiffness out of her sore neck muscles. It didn’t seem to help much. She locked the door and pushed it quietly shut.
Before letting go of its handle, she looked over the top of the car. On the shoulder of the road, less then twenty feet from the rear of the Maverick, was a pickup truck.
Axel Kutch sat on the roof of its cab, legs hanging over the windshield. His face, turned skyward, was lighted by a full moon. He seemed to be staring at it, as if entranced.
Silently, Donna crept down the slope. From the bottom of the ditch, she could still see Axel’s head. She watched it as she opened her corduroys. The huge head was still tilted back, its mouth gaping. She crouched close to the car.
The breeze was cold on her skin.
I was cold, like that time. And I had my pants down.
Everything will be fine, she thought.
He’ll sniff us down.
When she finished, Donna climbed the slope to the roadside. Axel, sitting on the roof of his truck cab, didn’t seem to notice.
“Axel?”
His hands flinched. He looked down at her and smiled. “Donna,” he said.
“The fog’s gone. Maybe we can leave now.”
Without a word, he jumped down. When he hit the asphalt road, his left leg buckled, but he kept his balance.
“What’s going on?” Sandy called to them.
“We’re leaving.”
The three of them unpacked the Maverick and transferred the suitcases to the bed of the pickup truck. Then they climbed inside, Donna sitting between Axel and her daughter.
“Help me remember where the car is,” she told Sandy.
“Will we come back for it?”
“We sure will.”
Axel steered his truck onto the road. He grinned at Donna. She grinned back.
“You smell good,” he said.
She thanked him.
Then he was quiet. On the radio, Jeannie C. Riley sang about the Harper Valley PTA. Donna fell asleep before the end of the song. She opened her eyes, sometime later, saw the truck’s headlights opening a path through the darkness of the curving road, and shut them again. Later, she was awakened when Axel started to sing along in his thick, low voice, with “The Blind Man in the Bleachers.” She drifted again into sleep. A hand on her thigh woke her up.
Axel’s hand.
“Here we are,” he said. Lifting the hand away, he pointed.
The headlights lit a metal sign: WELCOME TO MALCASA POINT, POP. 400. DRIVE WITH CARE.
Looking ahead through the bars of a wrought-iron fence, Donna saw a dark Victorian house: a strange mixture of bay windows, gables, and balconies. At one end of the roof, a cone-shaped peak jabbed at the night. “What’s this place?” she asked in a whisper.
“Beast House,” said Axel.