Even the beach wasn’t this dark at night.
Though plump, Mary Bradley had fine bones and delicate hands, possessing a limp quality that approached gracefulness. Just now, the creamy skin she generally took such care of was sunburned as well as scraped, and her breast was sore where the old man had squeezed it. Yet she managed to grin at the way she’d told him off. At the office, she was famous for her shrill little rages.
The weekend at the shore had as usual been one long party. Too much sun, too much loud music and liquor. She had a regular ride home with her girlfriends, but she’d met this cute guy last night…and this morning discovered that the other girls had left without her. At least they took my suitcase with them. It had already been getting dark when she’d started hitchhiking. Bad move. She shook her head. Never again.
Should of made him let me out sooner. But the old creep seemed so normal. Some of her girlfriends told horror stories about their “dates from hell.” She couldn’t wait to tell them this one. Stranded in the frigging woods.
She peered up the road. Nothing. God only knew what time she’d get back to Philly. And she had to work in the morning. Not that she worried about losing sleep: enough amphetamines coursed through her system to keep her going. Diet pills didn’t really curb her appetite any, but they sure were great for partying. Maybe one of the girls at work would have some Xanax or Valium or something to help her crash. Otherwise, she’d be a mess tomorrow.
It’s too hot to breathe. And I still need to pee. She had the jumpy, thirsty feeling she always got after a couple of days on speed, and the crickets set up an echoing vibration in her nervous system. God, these bugs. A breeze stirred now, and it seemed the pines themselves began to resemble giant insects, prickly feelers twitching. I hope I don’t have to wait here forever.
Soon she became aware of a sound besides the insects, faintly hollow above the constant whir. Cars on the highway? It seemed to come from all around her, and she strained to listen. On second thought, it was almost like the roar in a seashell. Could she be close to a beach? Then she recognized the sound for what it was.
Trees. Hot night air stirring in the trees.
She felt very strange and queasy, isolated. Even the air doesn’t smell right. No soot, no gasoline fumes.
“Shit!” The mosquitoes had found her, and they whirred in her ears and eyes. Mosquitoes and God only knows what else. One flew in her mouth. She slapped at her neck, slapped at her bare legs, squashing something bloated and wet. Terrific. Dressed in cutoffs and a T-shirt, she’d be covered with welts soon. She really began to worry how long it would be before another car came along. An hour maybe? She could be sucked dry by then. And what if there wasn’t another car to night?
I almost wish the old guy would come back.
She tried to guess how far she was from the larger road they’d been on and, as she started to walk back that way, wished she hadn’t been so chatty and had paid more attention. This is weird. Spotted with weeds, the white sand glowed in the moonlight, making her feel unreal, as though she floated through deep darkness on fluid silver. A swarm of mosquitoes followed, swimming through the humid air, and she imagined that in the shadows of the trees, the crickets followed as well.
Her footsteps made no sound. It was like walking on the beach—her calf and thigh muscles began to ache, and the straps of her new sandals cut into her feet. When she took them off, the sand felt soothing between her toes.
Suddenly, she panicked. I’m lost! The patch of white trailed on into the woods, twisting onward into nothingness. Where’s the road? As she got her bearings and moved back, she shivered in spite of the heat, knowing she’d be in real trouble if she strayed far from this path. Something crawled down the back of her damp T-shirt, and she clawed it out, squashing it, wiping her hand on her cutoffs. She was pretty sure there were things in her hair.
Ahead, something glinted dimly. Just able to make out the shape, she raced for it, aching muscles forgotten.
Bullet holes riddled the sign, the red lettering black by moonlight.
WARNING
DO NOT PICK UP HITCHHIKERS
HARRISVILLE STATE PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL
4 MILES
The needles of the nearer pines might have been thin talons, stretched out straight and clutching.
WARNING
She took a deep breath then giggled shrilly. “Swell.” The sound of crickets receded. “If they find me laughing in the woods, that’s where they’re gonna put me.” The sound of her own voice made her feel better, and she giggled again. “Anyway, I bet they don’t really give weekend passes to the ax murderers.”
As it wove through massed darkness, the road seemed to narrow again, and she panted, glancing back the way she’d come. Just for a moment, it seemed the pines themselves moved, that they shifted almost imperceptibly, inching onto the road. The crickets resumed. She glanced back and wondered how far she’d walked, but there was nothing by which to judge, no landmarks, only her footprints in the sand. Plodding forward again, she told herself the main road couldn’t be much farther.
She carried only one sandal.
“Wouldn’t you just know? And I only wore them the once.” Reluctantly, she started to backtrack.
Just a few yards away, beside the imprint of her bare feet, the sandal lay on its side in the sand…another set of prints trailing next to it.
Some sort of animal must’ve made them, she guessed. A deer, maybe. But didn’t deer have pointed feet or hooves or whatever? These tracks looked flat and broad.
She turned. The tracks were all around her now.
Clearly etched in moon shadow, the prints crossed her own, sometimes running parallel. She couldn’t have missed them if they’d been there seconds before.
The night breathed around her, and her teeth clicked together.
A mosquito hummed in her ear, and something rustled in the woods.
She ran. The main road had to be just up ahead, just beyond this bend or the next. She sprinted heavily, fleshy arms jouncing, and one foot came down hard on something sharp. She cried out, hobbling, her full bladder feeling as though it would burst with every jolt.
At last she slowed to check the road behind her. The itch of insect bites was maddening, and her clothes clung tightly.
Nothing. Beginning to feeling silly, she balanced on one foot and pulled something thorny from the sole of the other. “What’s the matter with me?” Out of breath and trembling, she wiped sweat out of her eyes and gazed down at the imprints her feet had made in the sand. “Talk about being scared of your own shadow.” The pounding of her heart slowed, and she examined the sticky mixture of sand and blood on her foot.
A rumbling vibration startled her. Blinding lights jerked through the night as a truck shuddered past.
The highway lay right there. Not twenty yards away in the dark, this dirt track emptied onto it. She went limp with relief and put her sandals back on. The shadows of the pines had shifted heavily, and she decided it was lucky a car hadn’t come along on this narrow road—she could easily have been run down.
The pressure in her bladder still throbbed.
More approaching lights. As another car passed, she smiled at the prospect of bending the ear of whoever picked her up. What a story!
Oh well, last chance to use the facilities. She considered crouching where she stood but figured—just her luck—a car would come along and spotlight her. It wasn’t fair, she thought, scanning the area to her right: men had it so much easier.