Lane glanced at the closed door, then peered down at herself. Her thighs were bruised, but some of the areas that had looked chafed and red now seemed okay. She pressed the gathered fabric to her belly and leaned forward. The edges of her vulva no longer looked raw. She lifted the nightshirt above her breasts. They were looking better, too. The bruises werent so dark. Theyd changed from deep purple to a greenish-yellow color.
A few more days, Lane thought, Ill be good as new.
On the outside.
Next time, maybe he wont hurt me.
There wont be a next time!
She let the nightshirt drift down to her waist, raised herself off the bed for a moment while she pulled it beneath her, then sat again and spread the fabric snug against her thighs.
There has to be a way out of this, she told herself.
Yeah, kill him.
Yesterday she couldve done it. Or helped, at least.
But now the idea of murdering Kramer seemed so much bigger. Enormous. She felt as if it would cast a black cloud over her life that might never go away.
I cant kill him. I cant tell on him. I cant let him get me again.
I could kill myself.
The idea shocked Lane, sent a sickening flood of heat rushing through her body.
If I kill myself, he wont have any reason to go after Mom and Dad. But itd ruinthem. Id burn in Hell, for sure. And everything...
Fuck that.
She stood up quickly, walked to the closet and put on her robe.
There hasto be a way out.
Yeah, stay the hell home from school. Thats a way out, at least for today. Worry about tomorrow tomorrow.
Maybe Rileyll take care of him without me. If I just stay out of it long enough. If Kramer doesnt come after me in the meantime.
Lane stepped into her slippers. She left her bedroom, made a quick trip to the toilet and relieved herself, then headed for the kitchen. Mom, unloading the dishwasher, looked around at her. Youre not dressed.
Im really feeling rotten today, she said, giving her voice a low, groany tone.
What is it?
You name it. Cramps, a headache, the trots. Ive got it all.
Oh, Im sorry, honey.
She shrugged and frowned. Ill live, I guess. But I dont think Im up for school.
What about Henry and Betty?
Lane grimaced. Shed forgotten about them. About George, too. Shed phoned George yesterday after coming back from the mall, and hed sounded eager to ride with them. I guess I could go ahead and take them, and then just come home.
No, if youre not feeling good enough to go to school... I suppose I can pick them up. Just this once. Since theyre expecting you.
Thatd be great.
They have other ways of getting home, dont they?
Oh, yeah. They can always work something out. Theres a guy named George, too. We got to know each other at the play. I was going to give him a ride today.
Mom nodded. All right. Well, get me their addresses and Ill take care of it.
Thats wonderful. Thanks a lot, Mom.
Would you like me to make you something before I go?
I dont feel much like eating. Ill come out when I get hungry, okay?
Well, suit yourself. Youll feel better, though, once you have some food inside you.
Lane poured herself a mug of coffee, then went into the living room. Dad was in his usual chair, dressed in the sweat clothes he usually wore after getting up, a mug in one hand, a paperback in the other.
Morning, sweetheart, he said. Hows it going?
Not so hot. Im staying home sick. Mom said its okay.
A touch of the flu? he asked.
Something like that, I guess. Anyway, I feel rotten. Im going back to bed pretty soon. She took a sip of coffee. Are you all excited about tonight?
He wrinkled his nose. I dont know whether Im excited or just scared.
If it bothers you, why not skip it?
Not that simple, he said. What would I do about the ending of my book?
That can be the ending. You make an ethical choice, or whatever, not to meddle with the thing. Let sleeping dogs lie. That could be the theme of the book.
Nodding, he laughed softly. Not a bad idea. Do youthink we shouldnt take the stake out?
Hell, I wouldnt have brought any corpse home in the first place.
I wishwe hadnt. God knows. He shrugged. But now that shes here...
I dont know, Dad. Youve always warned me not to mess with weird stuff like Ouija boards and fortune telling...
Yeah.
Remember when I bought that voodoo doll in New Orleans?
It still holds, he said.
You dont want to monkey with the supernatural. Thats what you always told me. And now youre planning to pull a stake out of a dead person to see if shes a vampire?
No good can come of it, he said, sounding like the voice of caution from an old mad-scientist movie.
So why do it? Lane asked.
His smile came back. Because its there?
Try again, Pops.
You dont sound so sick to me.
Maybe you shouldforget it. Im serious. Make up your mind not to pull out the stake, and youll be amazed how much better you suddenly feel.
Will it make you feel better?
Maybe. I dont really care. I can always stay in my room when you do it, but youll have to be out there. You know? This isnt my thing, its yours. Ive got my own problems.
What kind?..
Im just saying, she hurried on, you shouldnt let Pete or anyone else push you into doing something that youre against. Youre the one wholl have to live with it.
You think its morally wrong to pull the stake?
It is if shes a vampire.
Of course, we know she isnt.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than youve dreamt of in your philosophies.
Hey, pretty good!
She smiled. Im off to bed.
Good night, sweet princess. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Oh, thanks. Im not dying, Im just going to take another nap. I hope.
She left the room, wrote down the addresses of her friends, gave them to her mother in the kitchen, thanked her again for taking care of the matter, then returned to her bedroom.
Propped up against pillows, she tried to read. Though her eyes moved over the sentences, her mind kept straying, tormenting her with thoughts of Kramer. After a while she set the book aside. She snuggled down beneath the covers.
She wishedshe had her fathers problems. He doesnt know how lucky he is, she thought. How nice it would be if the biggest worry in her life was whether or not to pull a piece of wood out of a corpse.
Dad had said the girl Bonnie? was the Homecoming queen. She mustve been beautiful. Maybe just Kramers type.
Drifting toward sleep, Lane imagined getting all her friends together: Betty and Henry and George and Riley. I need your help, she told them. She explained her plan, and they all seemed eager to join in. So they crept into the garage and sneaked out with the corpse. They tied the coffin to the roof of her Mustang. They drove through the night across town to Kramers house. His station wagon wasnt there. He was still out on his boat. While her friends waited on the front stoop, she broke a back window and entered the house. She opened the door for them, and they brought the coffin inside. They took it to Kramers bedroom. They lifted the body onto his bed and hid the empty coffin in a closet.
Lane volunteered to pull the stake. Im not scared, she said. And she wasnt. Not of Bonnie. Bonnie was not the enemy. Bonnie was her ally, her weapon. She drew the stake out of the girls chest. The hole melted shut. The cadaver began to expand like an inflatable rubber doll with air being blown in. Its dry, leathery skin uncrinkled, took on a healthy glow of life. Except for the bruised places.