RICHARD LAYMON
RAVE REVIEWS FOR RICHARD LAYMON!
“I’ve always been a Laymon fan. He manages to raise serious gooseflesh.”
—Bentley Little
“Laymon is incapable of writing a disappointing book.”
—New York Review of Science Fiction
“Laymon always takes it to the max. No one writes like him and you’re going to have a good time with anything he writes.”
—Dean Koontz
“If you’ve missed Laymon, you’ve missed a treat.”
—Stephen King
“A brilliant writer.”
—Sunday Express
“I’ve read every book of Laymon’s I could get my hands on. I’m absolutely a longtime fan.”
—Jack Ketchum, author of Offspring
“One of horror’s rarest talents.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Laymon is, was, and always will be king of the hill.”
—Horror World
“Laymon is an American writer of the highest caliber.”
—Time Out
“Laymon is unique. A phenomenon. A genius of the grisly and the grotesque.”
—Joe Citro, The Blood Review
“Laymon doesn’t pull any punches. Everything he writes keeps you on the edge of your seat.”
—Painted Rock Reviews
Other Leisure books by Richard Laymon:
THE BEAST HOUSE
THE CELLAR
INTO THE FIRE
AFTER MIDNIGHT
THE LAKE
COME OUT TONIGHT
RESURRECTION DREAMS
ENDLESS NIGHT
BODY RIDES
BLOOD GAMES
TO WAKE THE DEAD
NO SANCTUARY
DARKNESS, TELL US
NIGHT IN THE LONESOME OCTOBER
ISLAND
THE MUSEUM OF HORRORS .(Anthology)
IN THE DARK
THE TRAVELING VAMPIRE SHOW
AMONG THE MISSING
ONE RAINY NIGHT
BITE
This book is dedicated to Ed Gorman—writer, publisher & friend. Ed, they don’t make them any better than you.
Copyright © 1998 by Richard Laymon
All rights reserved.
Chapter One
SANDY’S STORY—August, 1980
“Ow!” Sandy said. “Watch it with those teeth, buster. There. There, that’s better. Little monkey. Are you my little monkey? Huh, are you?”
Through the open window behind her, she suddenly heard footfalls crunching the forest mat of pine needles and twigs near her trailer home.
Fear knocked her breath out.
Eric stopped sucking, as if he sensed her alarm. He let go of her nipple, tipped back his head and looked up at her face.
“It’s all right,” she whispered.
Eric made a tiny whimper of concern.
“Shhhh.” Turning her head, Sandy looked over her shoulder.
The curtains behind her were shut. She kept them that way most of the time, even though her trailer was hidden away in a clearing and strangers rarely stumbled upon it.
You just never knew.
Watching the curtains, she could see the gloom of dusk through the thin yellow fabric. But she saw no movement, no trace of the intruder.
At least be can’t see us, either.
She wondered how she knew it was a man.
Maybe because of the heavy, sure sound of the footsteps.
He had already walked past the area directly behind her window. He kept going, and the crunching sounds faded a little.
Maybe he’s leaving.
More likely, though, he was circling the trailer—heading for the side with the door.
Just go away! Whoever you are, get out of here!
For a few seconds, she couldn’t hear him walking anymore.
Eric took her nipple into his mouth and resumed sucking.
Then the intruder climbed the stairs. The wood creaked and groaned.
Sandy turned her head and gazed at the door. It was directly across the narrow room from where she sat. It had no window.
Did I lock it?
I always lock it.
But did I?
She’d been awfully upset when she came in—hardly able to think straight.
I must’ve locked it.
No sound came from the other side of the door.
Sandy heard her heart pounding hard. And she heard the quiet suck and slurp of Eric at her breast.
The intruder knocked on the door.
Sandy flinched and Eric nipped her.
“Who is it?”
“Marlon Slade.” The voice was rich and deep like Darth Vader. “We met this morning.”
“I know that.”
“I’d like to speak with you for a moment, Miss Blume.”
“What about?”
“May I please come in?”
“I don’t think so. My dad’ll be getting home from work any minute. He doesn’t like me to have company when he isn’t here.”
“Miss Blume, the mosquitos are eating me alive. Please let me in.”
“Can’t. I can hear you just fine through the door.”
The knob rattled. The sound sent a cold wash of panic through Sandy. “Hey!” she shouted, springing to her feet. “Don’t do that!”
The door stayed shut.
She had locked it.
“I’d rather not discuss this through a door.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
“If you don’t think so, I’ll wait out here and speak with your father. I’m sure he’ll be interested in the offer, even if you’re not.”
Standing in the middle of the room with Eric clutched in her arms, she shook her head and said, “I told you I don’t want to be in your movie.”
“Of course you want to be in it. Now, please be a dear and open the door.”
“No, thank you.”
Something thumped hard against it, making it jump.
Making Sandy jump.
Eric turned his head to look at the door.
“Stop that!” Sandy shouted.
Silence.
But no sound of retreat. Marlon Slade was still standing on the top stair in front of her door.
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Sandy suggested. “I’ll come down to town, and...”
“No,” he said, just as if he knew she was lying. “Let’s talk about it now. I came all the way up from the road to this godforsaken... trailer. I will not go all the way down until we’ve spoken face to face about the situation.”