"Sort of a housedress," added the other girl, mashing her cigarette stub on the sole of her boot. "A faded old thing."
"And hiking boots."
"Did you see her knife?"
"Knife?"
"On her belt. Looked like a bowie knife. A huge sucker."
"Lovely," Julie muttered. "A crazy woman with a bowie knife. I think we'll stay away from that lake for sure."
Chapter Thirteen
Karen hung upside down in the overturned car, clawing for the seat-belt buckle, unable to find it. "Buckle up for safety, buckle up," the old jingle taunted her. "I'll warm you up," said a voice from the window.
She knew what she would see if she turned her head, and the thought of it terrified her. She didn't want to see. But she couldn't stop herself. Her head turned slowly toward the open window. Go away! she thought. I'll shut my eyes and he'll go away. She shut them, but her eyelids were transparent and she gazed at the charred face. Wisps of smoke curled out of its empty sockets, the hole where its nose should have been, its mouth.
"Turnabout's fair play," it said, blowing smoke into her eyes. The mouth twitched in a blistered grin, cracking the black flesh of its cheeks.
"No!" she cried. "It wasn't my fault!"
He thrust a gasoline spout at her face. The foul liquid gushed out, stinging her eyes, filling her nostrils. She opened her mouth for a breath and gasoline filled it, choking her.
He grabbed her shoulder. She tried to pry the fingers loose. They were dry and brittle, and she knew they would break off if she pulled hard enough.
"Karen!"
She woke up, gasping. Scott was kneeling beside her, a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" he whispered.
"Thank God you woke me."
"Must've been a hell of a nightmare." "It was." With trembling fingers, she found the zipper tab inside her sleeping bag and slid it down. She rolled onto her side to make room for Scott. He climbed in, pulled the zipper shut, and took her into his arms. Like last night, he wore only jockey shorts. His back was smooth and cold under her hands.
"You're shaking," he said.
"So are you."
"I'm frozen."
"I'm just scared out of my wits." She hugged him tightly.
"Chased by boogeymen?"
"Something like that." She let out a deep sigh. "I haven't had one like that in a long time."
"Sleeping on the hard ground'll do that to you. I've been having some pretty wild dreams myself. Mostly about you."
"Not nightmares, I hope."
"No indeedy." He pulled her sweatshirt up so she was bare against his belly and chest. Gently, he stroked her back. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
"You don't want to hear mine."
"Might help to talk about it. Maybe we can figure out what it means."
"I know what it means. And what brought it on, too — that business about the scars this afternoon."
His hands stopped moving. They pressed Karen closer against him. "Your accident?" he whispered.
"Yeah. Only it's not Frank trapped in the car, it's me. He was crouched by the window… all burnt up. He sprayed me with gas…"
"Good Christ."
"You woke me up before he got a chance to light it."
"Must've been awful."
"I've had it worse, sometimes. I usually wake up about the time he strikes the match, but a couple of times. I'm on fire and he crawls in through the window and. " She suddenly gagged.
Scott stroked the back of her head. "It's all right," he said. "Shh."
"Sorry."
"It's all right. I'll tell you about my dreams."
"Yours are nice, right?"
"Very nice. This morning — yesterday morning? — I dreamed it was raining and you came out of your tent in a clear plastic poncho, and nothing else."
"You're making this up."
"No. Honest. The rain was coming down real hard. Your hair was all matted down. Your face was slick and dripping. Water was streaming down the outside of your poncho, and I could see gooseflesh underneath. And your nipples were erect."
"Like now?"
A hand went to her breast. "Like now."
She sighed as he fingered the nipple.
"One thing was weird, though."
"What?"
"You know how dreams are."
"Weird."
"Right. Well, you didn't have any pubic hair. You'd shaved it off."
"This dream of yours is getting me hot."
"Me, too." His hand slid down, caressing her belly. It pushed inside her sweatpants. Slowly, it moved lower. "Just a dream," he said.
"I could shave it."
"It's nice this way."
"Hey, if you dream it's shaven, that's an expression of a frustrated desire, right? I'll do it. One of these days. It'll be a" — his sliding finger took her breath away — "a surprise."
"Want to hear the rest of the dream?"
"There's more?"
"Sure." His hand moved away, drawing a slick trail up her skin. He started pulling at the bow in her drawstring. "I said, 'You must be cold. What happened to your clothes?' And you told me Julie had stolen them." "Significant, that."
"She told you she'd hidden them so you'd have to stay in the tent."
"Away from you?"
"Could be." The drawstring loose, he pulled at Karen's sweatpants. She helped by kicking them down her legs. The inside of the sleeping bag felt cool and slippery on her bare skin. Scott caressed the back of her leg. His hand slid up her buttock, held it gently. "Anyway, I said I didn't want you to freeze. We went into my tent so I could get you some warm clothes, but the only clothes you wanted were the ones I was wearing."
"You have very peculiar dreams."
"Don't I? So you made me lie down on top of my sleeping bag. You took off your poncho and knelt over me and started to undress me."
"I stripped you naked?"
"Very slowly."
She hooked her fingers under the waistband of his shorts, eased the elastic away from his body, and pulled downward. She felt him spring free. With the back of her hand, she caressed the underside of his rigid penis. She tugged the shorts lower. Then she curled her fingers around him, feeling his hardness and his heat. "Did I do this?" she whispered.
He answered with a moan.
"And did I use my mouth?"
"Yes."
Her encircling fingers glided up the smooth length of him. "And did you use your mouth?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
His hands showed her where, rubbing, fingers sliding in. She trembled as heat surged through her body. "Unzip the bag," she gasped.
"We'll freeze."
"Did you freeze in the dream?"
"No, but — " "Wouldn't you like your dream to come true? Better yours than mine, right?"
"You don't know everything we did."
"Show me."
He did.
"This is when I woke up," he finally gasped.
"Oh. Oh, Christ. Well, don't stop now!"
"But. this is when I — "
"Ad-lib."
When they were through, Scott pulled the cover of the sleeping bag over them. They held each other, panting and sweaty. "Quite a dream," Karen whispered, and kissed him.
Later, he fell asleep. Karen lay cuddled against his long smooth warmth, feeling his breath on her face, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest. She was lazy and content. She wanted to let herself slip into sleep and wake up in the morning with him, but she couldn't.
It had always been that way. During their months together, she constantly longed for him to stay, to spend the whole night. In the morning, she would make him breakfast. It would be so wonderful, so complete. Instead, he always had to leave her bed and hurry home. For the kids. She certainly didn't blame him, but she wished it were different. Someday, maybe.