No Sanctuary Page 13

  Her back to the pool, she stood erect with her arms at her sides. She jumped, bounded straight up, came down again and bounced higher. On the third leap, she shot herself away from the board, did a quick somersault and snapped rigid, coming down fast with the board at her back and her arms stretched toward the water.

  She had an instant of stabbing fear when she realized she had come out of the tuck too late.

  Her head missed the end of the board. So did her upper back. It caught her just above the buttocks. She gritted her teeth as the board pounded her, scraped her and knocked her forward. She glimpsed her bare legs kicking against the pale sky. Then the water blurred her view.

  She blew out air through her nose. Plunging toward the bottom of the pool, she wondered how badly she was hurt. She clawed at the water.

  Then she felt a hand on her back. The hand found her arm and pulled her. She reached out and grabbed the side of the pool. Jerry was beside her.

  His face looked pale. “My God,” he gasped, “are you okay?”

  She shook her head. Her heart was slamming with fear and her throat felt clamped tight. Tears filled her eyes. She crossed her arms on the tiles, and rested her face on them. Jerry’s hand gently rubbed her back.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made you do it.”

  “It’s what I get ... for showing off.”

  “Damn, I bet that hurt.”

  “I feel... like I got... kicked by a mule.”

  “You ever been kicked by a mule?”

  “Don’t be a wiseguy.” She managed to swallow. She took a deep breath. She wiped a wet forearm across her eyes, then reached down and carefully fingered a raw area near the top of her right buttock. She could feel loose edges of skin that had been peeled down. Her left buttock was in better shape. It felt battered and slightly scuffed, but not flayed.

  Suddenly alarmed, Gillian reached lower. Her bikini pants.

  “Oh shit,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “I lost something.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she told Jerry. She thought she was done crying, but her voice broke and her eyes flooded. “Damn it!” she gasped.

  “I’ll find them for you.”

  Jerry was no longer beside her. She wiped her eyes and turned around. He was far below the surface, kicking his way toward the bottom of the pool.

  Gillian pushed away from the edge. She swam toward the shallow end, then stood. She was shoulder-deep. She peered down. The water blurred the view, but not enough.

  Jerry was swimming toward her, well below the surface, the white rag of her bikini pants fluttering in his grip.

  She drove her hands down quickly to cover herself.

  Jerry veered off. So he has his eyes open under there, Gillian thought. Wonderful.

  He swam toward the left, moved past her, and stood up. He lifted her pants out of the water. “Here you go.”

  He looked into her eyes. He didn’t look down.

  Gillian uncovered herself. She took the garment from him. The cords on both sides dangled, torn loose from the seat. “It’s ruined,” she muttered.

  “You can’t put it on?”

  She shook her head. She sighed. She felt as if she might burst into tears again.

  “I’ll get you something to wear,” Jerry said. He turned away, waded to the side of the pool, climbed out, and hurried across the sundeck to the rear of his house.

  While he was gone, Gillian moved to the pool wall. She pressed herself to it, feeling the slick tile against her belly and hips and pubic mound and thighs.

  The initial pain had been replaced by a dull ache. Even the skinned areas no longer hurt much.

  What hurt was the humiliation.

  It wasn’t much different from the time, a few years ago, when she got plastered at a party and barfed on the floor in front of everyone.

  That was worse, she decided. This time, at least, it was an accident. It wasn’t exactly my fault.

  If I hadn’t been showing off...

  Jerry came out of the house with a blue terri-cloth robe. “This should do the trick,” he said. He dropped it onto the pool deck in front of her, then turned away.

  Gillian climbed out, hoping he wouldn’t take advantage of the opportunity to look at her. She put on the bulky robe, and belted it shut. “Okay,” she said.

  He faced her. He was frowning. “Better?” he asked.

  Gillian nodded. “Thanks.”

  “You really caught it.”

  “Yeah. I noticed. Thanks for pulling me out.”

  “Do you think you need a doctor? I could drive you to an emergency room.”

  “No, it’s not that bad. I’ll have an ugly ass for a couple of weeks, that’s all.”

  Jerry smiled a little sadly. “It’s a shame for something that gorgeous to get banged up.”

  Heat rushed to Gillian’s face. “I’d better get going,” she muttered. Stepping over to the table, she slipped into her sandals and picked up the shirt she had worn as a cover-up.

  “You’ll come back for the barbecue, won’t you?”

  “I don’t know, Jerry.”

  “You earned it. The hard way.”

  “I don’t know. This is all ... pretty embarrassing.”

  “Yeah, I guess it would be.” He lowered his voice. “Look, the invitation stands. I’d really like you to come over. But I’ll understand, if you’d rather not.”

  “If I do come, are you going to make me dive?”

  He looked up at her. “Certainly. If you won’t dive, forget it. Stay home and starve.”

  “What time do the festivities start?”

  “Say five?”

  Gillian nodded. “We’ll see. I’ll bring you back your robe, anyway.”

  He walked with her to the gate, and opened it. “I’m awfully sorry you got hurt.”

  “I’m awfully sorry I lost my pants.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Screw you, buster.”

  He patted her gently on the arm. She stepped through the gate and walked down his driveway, trying hard not to limp.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I think we should push on,” Bert said. “It’s still early, and Dead Mule Pass is only two miles.”

  “Two miles straight up,” Andrea pointed out. “I don’t know why we want to push it. This looks like a perfectly good place to spend the night.”

  Rick thought so, too. The lake was surrounded by trees, and the shady place where they’d stopped was close to the shore and had a rushing stream nearby. There were flat areas where they could pitch their tents, a ring of stones for a campfire, and sawn-off logs for seats.

  Nobody was using the seats. All four had dropped to the ground and were resting against their packs.

  “Let’s go on,” Bonnie said, looking up from a map spread across her legs. “It shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours to the top. We’ll come into a whole string of lakes just on the other side of the pass.”

  “Bug squat,” Andrea muttered.

  Bert smiled at her. “Look at it this way. If we don’t go over the pass this afternoon, we’ll be hitting it first thing in the morning. Wouldn’t you rather get it over with?”

  “Maybe it’ll flatten out overnight. Maybe we’ll die in our sleep. Maybe...”

  “What do you think, Rick?” Bonnie asked.

  “Yeah, Rick,” Andrea said. “How about it? Which’ll it be, the Bataan Death March with yours truly more than likely turning toes up along the way, or a pleasant afternoon relaxing here by the lake, possibly going in for a dip?”

  “Well,” he said, “it’s two against one.”

  “Make it two against two. I’ll give you my first-born.”

  “No fair bribing,” Bert told her.

  “It’s nice here,” Rick said. And it would be very nice indeed if the ladies decided to take a dip in the lake. “Also, the chain-gang is probably up ahead somewhere
. I’d prefer not to run into them.”

  “Right,” Andrea said. “We stay here, we won’t meet up with The Three Thugateers.”

  “But I think we should keep moving,” Rick finished.

  “Stabbed in the back!” Andrea blurted.

  “Sorry. I just think it’ll be nice to get the hard part over with.”

  Sure I do, he thought.

  He wanted to stay here. But Andrea wanted to stay and Bert didn’t. He had to side with Bert, damn it. Because Andrea was young and beautiful, and it wouldn’t look right if he didn’t.

  “Guess I’m out-numbered,” Andrea said. “You guys’ll regret it when I drop dead of heat prostitution.”

  “Prostration,” Bonnie corrected.

  “You die your way, I’ll die mine.”

  They got up, shouldered their packs, and hiked up the path that led from the lake to the main trail, leaving the shade behind. Ahead was the barren, rocky side of a mountain with switchbacks zigzagging up its slope and no top in sight.

  Rick supposed that Jase, Luke and Wally were up there someplace. But he wondered if he had misjudged them. If the guys had any plans for staging a confrontation, they probably would’ve done it by now.

  Unless they’re biding their time, he thought, waiting for just the right opportunity.

  Maybe waiting for nightfall.

  If we’d just stayed at the lake, we might’ve lost them for good.

  There are four of us now, he told himself. We’ve got them out-numbered. That should give them second thoughts. But the temptation might be greater. Three gals instead of just one. Three times the temptation. Might be too much for them. Take me out of the picture, they’ll have a field day.

  Hell, they might not even know about Bonnie and Andrea.

  I hope not.

  Bonnie, in the lead, came to the first turn in the trail. She rounded it and kept walking, facing them now as she started up the next level. She swung her arms. Her stout legs took powerful strides. She looked as sturdy as a tugboat.

  Andrea, behind her, hesitated when she reached the turning place. Tilting back her head, she peered at the trail and bared her upper teeth. Her chest rose. Rick could almost hear her pained sigh as her chest deflated. Clutching the straps at her shoulders, she leaned forward and started trudging. Her legs looked too slim and frail to support her under the weight of the big pack.

  Bert, just in front of him, seemed neither as fragile as Andrea nor as solid as Bonnie. Lithe and graceful, that was Bert. Rick watched her slender legs swing out, watched the way the seat of her loose tan shorts moved with each step.

  Here I am, he thought, one guy with the three of them. Not bad. Better make that two of them, though. Count Bonnie out. Try anything with her, you’d probably get a right hook for your trouble. Or a rock to the head. Good looker, though. So, count your chickens, Ricky baby, it’s not all bad—three gals and one guy. Know some dudes who’d give their eye teeth...

  If I just didn’t have to worry about those other guys ... and make sure Bert doesn’t catch me eyeing the other two. Especially Andrea. Wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more of that one. And she’s available, looks like. Maybe she’s straight after all.

  Bert looked back at him. “You hanging in okay?” she asked.

  “No problem. How about you?”

  A comer of her mouth twitched. She turned around and walked backward. “It’s starting to get to me,” she admitted. She took off her hat and rubbed a sleeve across her brow. Fringes of hair were clinging in damp curls around her face. Her faded blue shirt was dark around the collar. All but the lower two buttons were unfastened. Her skin in the opening gleamed as if it were oiled. She was breathing hard, and Rick could see a glossy patch of skin below her sternum throb with her pulsebeat.

  “Maybe we should take five,” he said.

  “Let’s keep at it a while longer. Gotta get this over with.” With a wry smile, she shook her head and raised her arm, pointing at something behind Rick.

  He looked around.

  Bert was pointing at Fern Lake. It looked clear blue and cold below them. “And to think we could be there right now,” she said. “Maybe Andrea had the right idea.”

  “No pain, no gain.”

  “Wise-ass. Why didn’t you talk me out of this?”

  “Would’ve looked like I was siding with Andrea.”

  “Long as that’s all you do with her.”

  “She’s an eight, you’re a ten.”

  Bert huffed out a laugh without much breath behind it. “I’d say she’s more of a six, but that’s in the eye of the be-holder.” Grinning, she turned away.

  She walked slowly, staying a few strides ahead of Rick. Even though the hike was beginning to take its toll on her, she could easily have passed Andrea. She was probably even capable of leaving Bonnie in her dust, if she had the inclination. Ever since they had joined up with the girls, however, Rick had kept to the rear and Bert had remained in front of him like a barrier. When Andrea slowed down, Bert slowed down even more. When Andrea stopped to rest, Bert stopped too, and the three of them waited until she was ready to move on.

  Protecting her interests.

  Just as well, Rick thought. It keeps the burden off me.

  If Bert went on ahead at her normal pace, he would need to choose between trying to keep up with her (and letting Andrea disappear behind him), or staying back with Andrea (which would look as if he were choosing to desert Bert). Either way, it would’ve been lousy.

  This was better.

  A lot to be said for hiking behind the three of them. Nice view.

  Too bad they aren’t naked, he thought. On the other hand, that’d be rough. Then I’d feel compelled to take over the lead. The front view could be far superior to the rear. Rick smiled. Every silver lining has its cloud.

  Be worth the effort, though. Plug on ahead. No pain, no gain. Get up in front for the view. Walk backward the way Bert was doing a while ago, careful not to fall on your ass or step off the side of the mountain. They’d be hiking toward him single-file.

  Rick stopped smiling.

  They’d still have on their hats, their socks and boots. They’d still be lugging their packs, the straps pulling their shoulders back and thrusting their breasts forward. Their breasts would jiggle and bob as they walked. Their skin would gleam with sweat. Their muffs would be powdered with trail dust.

  “How about a little fucky-wucky?” Andrea called to him.

  “Don’t be so gross,” Bonnie told her.

  He asked Bert for permission. “Long as I’m first,” she replied. Then all three gaped in alarm. Rick whirled around. Jase smashed his head with a rock.

  He came to. The guys were gone. The girls lay sprawled along the trail in motionless heaps. He rushed down to them and crouched over Bert. Her throat was split as if slashed by a razor. She had blood in her open eyes. Whimpering, Rick backed away and tripped over Bonnie. He rolled off her without looking and found himself on his hands and knees, staring at Andrea. She was staked to the trail, spread-eagled. Her neck was a pulpy red stump. Her head was between her legs, peering at him over the bloody mat of her pubic hair.

  “It’s all right.” It was Bert’s voice. He opened his eyes. His head was on her lap. Her throat was healed. She was in her clothes again, though her shirt gaped open and he could see the side of a breast above his face. She was mopping his forehead with a cold, wet rag.

  Andrea and Bonnie were also alive again, both kneeling beside Rick. They wore clothes, but no packs. They were staring at him.

  He suddenly had to vomit.

  He lurched up and scurried away on hands and knees, but didn’t get far before spasms wracked him and he heaved. When he finished, he crawled backward away from the mess. He turned around and met Bert’s gaze. She looked worried.

  “What happened?” Rick asked.

  She shook her head. “I heard you groan. I looked back just in time to see you fall flat on your face.”

  “Christ,” he muttered. />
  Bert passed a water bottle to him. He gulped the cold liquid.

  “What was it?” Andrea asked.

  Yeah, he thought. What was it? Exhaustion? Dehydration? The heat? He’d been feeling just fine before it happened. Having quite a pleasant, erotic daydream and suddenly it turned on him, twisted into something hideous.

  As if all his worries about Jase, Luke and Wally had blasted to the surface and knocked him out.

  Some kind of paranoia attack?

  A premonition?

  Rick felt a sudden chill.

  That old John Newland show, One Step Beyond. People were always having dreams or visions foretelling disaster. ESP.

  I’ve never had any ESP.

  This was just my imagination taking a nose-dive.

  “I don’t know what happened,” he said. “I guess I just passed out.”

  “Did you feel it coming on?” Bonnie asked.

  “No, I was fine.” He shrugged. “I feel all right now.”

  “We’d still better rest for awhile,” Bert said. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she guided him down. He stretched out on the trail and lay his head on her lap. She smoothed the damp cloth over his brow.

  “Maybe we’d better turn back,” Bonnie said.

  “If we’d stayed at the lake in the first place,” Andrea said, “this wouldn’t have happened.” She sounded angry, as if she held Bonnie and Bert responsible. “He could’ve fallen over the friggin’ side and broken his neck.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Rick protested. “We can go on in a minute.”

  “We’re still a long way from the top,” Bert told him. “I think Bonnie’s right. We should go back down to the lake. We can tackle this again first thing in the morning when everybody’s fresh.”

  “Before it gets so hot,” Bonnie added.

  “Really, I...”

  “It’s settled,” Bert said.

  Rick closed his eyes.

  We’re going back down to the lake, he thought. I wanted to stay there in the first place.

  He wondered if a scheming corner of his mind had staged the nasty little skit in hopes of getting the group to turn back. Slap Rick off his feet, everyone gets worried, hy-ho, hy-ho, it’s back to the lake we go.

  It’s what you wanted. It’s safer there. The guys are up ahead, and it’s the guys you want to avoid, so it’s all working out great.