“Yeah,” Lib muttered. Then she moaned and said, “Shit. I peel like I got myselp pounded to det widda baseball bat.”
“I bet you do.”
As Sandy drove deeper into the woods, Lib gently fingered her mouth, inside and out. Now and then, she winced. After a while, she started to weep quietly.
“You’ll be okay,” Sandy told her.
“Shit. it hurts. Hurts like puckin’ hell. And I’m gonna be so "puckin” ugly, ain’t no pella ebber gonna wanta look at me...Not as I were much ob a prize bepore.” She let out an odd, honking snort.
Sandy reached over and squeezed her leg. “Everything’ll be fine, Libby. We’ll get you some new teeth and you’ll look better than ever.”
“Yeah? Well...” She sniffed. “Ya got anudder bottle ob dat bourbon someplace?”
"Nope. Sorry.”
“Gotta get me some. I peel like shit.”
"There’s plenty of aspirin and stuff in the trailer.”
“Dat’d help.”
Just ahead, there seemed to be a small open area. It would probably be a better place to stop than here, where the trees pressed in so tightly. Sandy said, “Hang on just a minute,” and drove on into the clearing.
There, she eased the car to a stop. “I guess we’re probably far enough from the highway.”
“We gonna stay here?”
“For the time being.” She shut off the engine and headlight. The heater stopped blowing warm air against her legs. In the sudden silence, she heard a breeze sifting through the trees. The car’s engine made quiet pinging sounds. “Does it look all right to you?”
Lib turned her head slowly. “Mighty damn puckin dark out dare.”
“All the better. I want to get rid of the body. This looks like it’d be a good place for it.”
“We gettin’ out?”
"I am,” Sandy said. She opened her door, stepped outside, then eased her door shut.
On the other side of the car, the passenger door opened and Lib climbed out.
“Take it easy when you shut the door,” Sandy told her in a hushed voice. “We don’t want to wake up Eric.”
“Tink he’s asleep?”
"Pretty sure. He wouldn’t be this quiet if he was awake.”
‘Yeah?’
“Oh, yeah. He’s a real little hellraiser.”
Lib shut her door gently. “Gonna leab him in de car?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Sandy walked past the rear of the car and alongside the trailer. Reaching high, she opened the trailer door. The makeshift wooden stairway should’ve been right there, but she didn’t see it. Leaning forward, she raised her arms and felt around in the darkness. Nothing.
“What’s up?” Lib asked.
“I’m going in.” Sandy swung up a knee, planted it on the door sill, and climbed into the trailer.
“Where’s da steps?” Lib asked.
“Don’t know. Must’ve scooted off someplace. I’ll find ’em for you.”
“Dat’s all right. One ob us oughta stay out here and keep an eye on tings.”
“Chicken.”
“Dat’s me.”
“They’ve gotta be here,” Sandy muttered.
“Don’t go lookin’ por dem steps on account ob me. Only ting I want’s some aspirin.”
“You gonna make me do all the work? Climb on up.”
“You’re in da way, honey.”
“That can be fixed.” Sandy started to crawl away from the door and put a hand down on something that felt like a face. Gasping, she jerked her hand back.
“Y’okay?”
“Guess I found Slade.”
“What’s he doin?”
“Not a hell of a lot.” Gritting her teeth, Sandy slowly lowered her open hand again. But not all the way. She stopped it slightly above where the face should be, then poked at the darkness below with her forefinger. The tip of her finger didn’t touch anything, so she eased her hand downward ever so slowly.
Her fingertip met a sticky surface. She shoved gently, wondering what it was. The surface felt solid, but yielded slightly. Exploring a bit more, she discovered a small curve. Something feathery brushed against her fingertip.
Lashes?
“Uck!” Her hand leaped high.
“What?”
“I touched his eye! Jeez! His bare eye!”
Lib laughed.
“Keep yuckin’ it up, babe, ‘cause here he comes.”
Having a very clear idea about where Slater’s face should be, Sandy spread her hands and reached forward and down. She encountered damp, sticky fabric. Had to be his shirt. Patting her way to both his sides, she found his armpits. Then she grabbed hold and reared back. He scooted toward her just a little. She crawled backward and gave him another tug. He moved another inch or two.
Crawling farther, she felt the door sill beneath the toes of her shoes. On the other side of the sill, the floor went away. She kept pulling Slade until her knees felt the sill. Then she let go of him and climbed down.
“Can you give me a hand?”
“Sure.”
Side by side, Sandy and Lib reached into the trailer. Each grabbed one of Slade’s armpits. When they pulled, he slid toward them. He came along fine until he was out just more than halfway down his back.
Suddenly, his torso tipped downward and his legs flew up.
Lib gasped.
Sandy blurted, "Look out!”
As Slade’s legs swung down, both women scurried for safety. But Lib didn’t move fast enough. Before she could get clear, Slade’s left shoe crashed against the top of her shoulder.
"Ow!” she cried out. Grabbing her shoulder, she stumbled backward.
Slade piled into the ground beside the trailer. He came to rest on his knees, rump up, face in the grass. Sandy didn’t like him in that position, so she rammed him in the hip with her foot and he toppled over sideways.
-You okay?” she asked Lib.
“Shit,” Lib said, rubbing her shoulder. “Dis ain’t my night.”
“Your shoulder isn’t broken or something, is it?”
“Naw.”
“Still works?”
“Reckon.”
“Wanta just help me drag him into the trees? Then you can go inside and take some aspirin and hit the sack, or something, if you want to.”
"Dat sounds good.” She came over and looked down at Slade.
“Which end you want?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll grab his peet.”
“His peter?” Sandy asked, sounding shocked. “Don’t do that!”
“Hardy har har.”
“Why don’t you grab his feet, instead? I’ll take his arms.”
“Kick your ass prom here to next Sunday,” Lib muttered.
Laughing softly, Sandy crouched over Slade and took hold of his wrists. Then she waited while Lib bent down and clutched his ankles. “Ready?” she asked.
“Heabe ho,” said Lib.
They both stood up straight, stretching Slade and raising him off the ground. Sandy sidestepped quickly, turning him. Then she started to trudge backward, lugging him away from the trailer. Lib followed, holding up his legs.
“Sure is a hebby son ob a bitch,” Lib muttered.
“Maybe you ladies should set him down.”
At the sound of the man’s voice, Lib made a quick squeaky noise and dropped Slade’s feet. Sandy, shocked, bent down slowly. When Slade’s head rested on the ground, she lowered his arms and folded them across his chest. Then she stood up straight.
She and Lib, standing at opposite ends of the body, turned this way and that, trying to spot the source of the voice.
The man was not to be seen.
Sandy felt as if a vicious thug were kicking her in the heart.
“He’s down,” Lib called, sounding almost breathless.