The Beast House (3 page)

She nodded, and bit into her burger. Juice dribbled down her chin. She mopped it off with a napkin. “Yeah,” she said. “Way across there? That peninsula’s where Rod Taylor lived.”

“No kidding?”

“Remember? Tippi Hedren took a motorboat across to it, and that bird divebombed her?”

“Sure. So that’s where it happened. I’ll be damned. I saw that film three or four times.”

“The schoolhouse is around here someplace, I think.”

“How about the Bates Motel?”

“Wrong movie.”

“That’s probably up at Malcasa Point. The one Triple A won’t approve.”

“Actually, it’s at Universal Studios.”

“I know that, dimbo. Just making a little joke.”

On the way out of Bodega, they drove past a small, wood-frame schoolhouse. “Bet that’s the one they used,” Tyler said.

“Where’s the jungle gym?”

Tyler shrugged.

“They probably had to junk the thing after all those birds crapped on it.”

They left Bodega behind. In a short while, Nora was asleep, slumped down in her seat with her knees against the dashboard, her head tilted sideways, her mouth drooping open. Tyler felt a little groggy herself. She lowered he window to catch the fresh ocean breeze on her face.

Thoughts of Dan filled her mind, memories of their time together. She could hardly believe that in just a couple more hours she might actually be seeing him again.

He’d kept a photo of her above the fireplace. He wouldn’t have done that unless he still cared. And he’d talked to Barbie Doll about her.

Barbie Doll. What an awful nickname.

He used to invite her up for pizza. Had they…?

Tyler felt a tightness inside.

Not Barbie Doll. Why not? Because she’s a good ten years older than Dan, and fat? I wasn’t exactly svelte and it didn’t bother him. At least he never complained.

And so what if Dan did have something going with Barbie? Why not?

Hell, they were probably just friends.

Five years. Face it, he’s been with plenty of women since me. Some of it must’ve been serious.

She wiped her sweaty hands on the legs of her corduroys.

What’s the good of thinking about it?

But she couldn’t stop. With a sick feeling of despair, she wondered how many women he’d taken to bed. Who were they? Did some remind him of her, and make him miss her? Maybe he never thought about her at all anymore, her image erased by a new love.

Stop this!

At least he’s not married. Or he wasn’t as of two Christmases ago. Or he had been married by then, but didn’t mention it in his card to Barbie. Anything was possible. He might even have moved again. Might’ve left Malcasa. Wouldn’t that be…

She was shocked from her thoughts as she rounded a curve and faced a green pickup truck. It was just ahead passing an RV, speeding straight at her. She hit the horn and brakes.

Nora lurched awake. “Holy shit!”

Tyler swung wide to make room, her right-hand tires spraying up dirt and gravel on the road’s shoulder.

The driver of the pickup smirked and saluted the brim of his cowboy hat as he shot past.

Nora gave him the finger. “Asshole!” she yelled.

Tyler steered her car back onto the road.

“Christ,” Nora gasped. She clutched her chest as if to keep her heart from jumping out. “Fuckin’ redneck scum-butt!”

Tyler took a deep breath. Her own heart was sledging. Her legs felt hot and weak.

“Fucker woulda killed us,” Nora said. “What’d I tell you? Pickup trucks! Put a bastard in a pickup, he thinks he’s King Shit.”

Moments later, a green pickup appeared in the rearview mirror. Tyler groaned. “He’s coming back.”

“You’re kidding.” Nora looked over her shoulder. “Oh, shit.”

“Maybe it’s not him.”

“It’s him. Oh, shit. Guess I shouldn’t have flipped him the bird.”

The truck bore down on them. Then it was tailgating, speeding along no more than a yard from their rear bumper, its horn blasting. Nora faced forward and shrank down in her seat. She made a sick-looking smile at Tyler. “What do you think, is he pissed or horny?”

“I don’t want to find out,” Tyler said. She searched the area ahead. For as far as she could see, the two-lane strip of road was bordered by brown, desolate hills and a slope dropping away to the shoreline. No gas stations where she might stop for help. No shops or cafés. No dwellings of any kind.

“Where’s the highway patrol when you need it?” Nora muttered.

“Where’s civilization when you need it?”

Tyler eased down on the gas pedal. The pickup fell away as the speedometer needle climbed from fifty-five to sixty to sixty-five. Then she was pushing seventy. She was on a straightaway, but she could see a bad curve in the distance—maybe a mile ahead. And the pickup was gaining fast.

“No way,” she muttered. She took her foot off the accelerator. Their speed dropped quickly. She gazed at the rearview, trying to fight her growing panic as the truck raced closer. It didn’t seem to be slowing. She braced herself for the impact. At the last instant, the pickup swung into the southbound lane and pulled alongside. Its horn blared like someone screaming into Tyler’s ears. Instead of passing, it kept even. The road ahead was clear, at least for now. She half expected the pickup to swerve and bump her, sending the little Omni careening into the hillside. Her foot hit the brake pedal. The pickup shot by, cut in front, and slowed. She mashed the brake. With a glance at the rearview mirror, she saw a Mustang bearing down fast. She was doing twenty, then fifteen, the pickup blocking her way.

“Oh, Christ!” she cried. She pulled onto the bumpy shoulder and stopped. The pickup swung over. The Mustang to the rear crossed the center line and sped past. The pickup backed up until it almost touched the Omni’s front bumper.

With a trembling hand, Tyler cranked her window. She elbowed the lock button. Through the rear window of the pickup’s cab, she watched the man take off his cowboy hat.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a gun handy?” Nora asked.

“Oh, sure.”

“I didn’t think so.”

The man scooted across the front seat. He opened the passenger door and climbed down. He didn’t look at them. He scowled at the ground as he ambled closer.

He was a big man, maybe thirty years old, with eyes that seemed too small for his massive face, and thick bulging lips. His jaw looked broader than his forehead.

“Fucking Neanderthal,” Nora muttered.

He suddenly looked up. His tiny eyes flicked from Nora to Tyler. His lips curled into a grin. He raised his middle finger and twisted his hand slowly as if screwing it in. Tyler pressed her knees together.

“Pig,” Nora said.

Using his middle finger, he gestured for them to come out.

Nora leaned close to the windshield. “Not on your life, shithead!” she yelled.

“For Christsake!” Tyler gasped.

Smirking, the man snapped off the Omni’s radio antenna. He swung it like a riding crop. Tyler flinched as it lashed the windshield.

“Shove it up your ass!” Nora yelled.

Tyler punched her shoulder. “Stop that! It’s bad enough! Christ, don’t antagonize him.”

He struck the windshield again. Tyler rammed the shift to reverse and sped backward, the car bouncing over the rough ground of the shoulder. She wanted to swing out onto the road, but a huge camper van was rushing in from the rear. Steering away to avoid it, she felt the car tip. She hit the brakes. The RV roared past, close enough to make the Omni shudder with its buffeting wind. She shifted to first, stepped on the gas pedal and let out the clutch. She heard a rear tire spin. But the car didn’t move.

The man, jogging toward them, stopped to pick up a rock the size of a softball.

Nora shoved her door open. She leaned out and glanced back and shut the door and locked it. “We’re hanging over the ditch,” she reported.

“Oh, great.”

“That rock, he can bash his way in.”

“I know, I know!”

The man hurried closer, rock in one hand, antenna in the other.

Tyler tried again to make the car move.

“Look,” Nora said, “he’ll just demolish a window and get in anyway.” She opened her door again.

“Don’t!”

She climbed out and stepped toward the front of the car.

“Nora!”

She leaned back, rump against the hood, and folded her arms across her chest. The man stopped jogging. One side of his mouth twisted up. He tossed the rock away, shifted the antenna to his right hand, and walked slowly toward her, switching the air.

With a groan, Tyler turned off the engine. She set the emergency brake and got out. Her legs felt rubbery as she walked to the front of the car. She rested against the hood, shoulder to shoulder with Nora.

About four feet away, the man stopped. His gaze roamed slowly down Nora’s body, then slid over to Tyler. She felt cold and sick inside. She tried not to squirm.

Nora said, “Like what you see, liver-lips?”

With a snarl, he whipped the antenna. It whistled by their faces.

“I’m shaking,” Nora said.

He pointed the antenna at a cluster of bushes beyond the ditch. “Get going,” he said.

“It can talk,” Nora said.

“Move!”

“What’ve you got in mind?”

“Gonna fuck your asses.”

“No fooling. With what?”

He lashed her shoulder. She flinched and gritted her teeth. “I’m gonna take you down, buddy,” she muttered, and lunged at the man. He rammed a knee into her belly, doubling her, and flung her sideways. As she tumbled into the ditch, Tyler drove a fist at the man’s face. She felt his nose smash under her knuckles. He blinked and shook his head. Blood gushed from his nostrils. Snarling, he clutched Tyler’s throat and shoved her backward. The front of the car collapsed her legs. He slammed her down on the hood. His other hand tore at her blouse. Blood spilled onto her face. She punched the side of his head. She kicked, but he was between her legs, leaning down on her, mashing her against the hood. Blinking his blood out of her eyes, she saw his fist rise like a hammer about to strike. Then he looked over his shoulder. He thrust himself off her and whirled around. Raising her head, Tyler saw his pickup racing toward them.

“Hey!” the man yelled.

Tyler sat up, slid forward, and got her feet on the ground as the truck skidded to a stop. She glanced to the side. Nora was scurrying up out of the ditch, hair in her eyes.

The truck’s passenger door flew open. A lean man in white pants and a polo shirt jumped down. He nodded to someone inside. The truck rolled forward. It veered to the right. The other door door swung open. A man leaped out, windmilling as he caught his balance.

“No!” the big man roared as his pickup nosed down the slope of the ditch. It stopped abruptly with a crunch of metal, a tinkling shatter of headlights. The man covered his ears. He fell to his knees as Nora, coming up behind him, lashed his back with the antenna.

Now that the truck was out of the way, Tyler saw a blue Mustang parked a distance up the road.

Nora tossed the antenna aside. She nodded at the pair of strangers who were standing just in front of the cowering man. “Are you ladies all right?” asked the one in the polo shirt. He looked from Nora to Tyler.

Tyler pulled her blouse shut, and nodded.

“Too bad about the truck,” said the one who had crashed it, shaking his head and sounding extremely sincere as he stared at the man. He was shorter than his friend, with a crewcut and a chubby boyish face. His neck was thick. His T-shirt was stretched taut over his broad shoulders and bulging chest. The brass buckle of his belt read Colt. He wore blue jeans that looked brand-new. Their cuffs were rolled up about three inches. He wore scuffed cowboy boots with pointed toes. Tyler figured he must be gay. That would mean his friend was, too.

The friend squatted down, bringing his face close to the kneeling man. “Now here’s the plan,” he said in a calm voice. “You get to your feet and apologize to the ladies. You pay them for the antenna. Then you go back to your pickup and stay there.”

“What if I don’t?” he muttered.

The man patted his shoulder. Gently, he said, “I’ll let Jack rip your face off.”

They stood up. The big man turned to Nora and Tyler. He kept his head down. He rubbed a sleeve across his mouth to wipe the blood away. He made gasping, sobbing sounds as he reached into a rear pocket and took out his wallet. He pulled out a tendollar bill and held it out to Tyler with a shaking, redstained hand. Jack leaned in close, and eyed the bill. “Cheap bastard,” he said. He snatched away the wallet. He plucked out a twenty, took the ten from the man, and gave them both to Tyler. Then he handed the wallet back.

“Now apologize,” said the lean one.

“Sorry,” he murmured without looking up.

“It’s quite all right,” Nora said. She took a step toward him, arms stiff at her sides, and shot a fist into his groin. His breath exploded out. He dropped to the ground clutching himself, and Nora slammed a knee into his bleeding nose. The blow knocked him backward. The lean man hopped out of his way. The blocky one named Jack ginned at Nora and began to clap.

“Nora Branson.” She offered her hand to the muscle-bound man.

“Jack Wyatt,” he said, shaking it.

“Tyler Moran,” Tyler said, and shook hands with the lean one.

“Abe Clanton.”

“Names like a couple of gunslingers,” Nora said, shaking with Abe as Tyler squeezed Jack’s hand. She was surprised by his gentle grip.

“Yup,” Jack said. “We’re mean hombres.”

Looking past Abe, Tyler saw the big man stagger down the side of the ditch and climb into his pickup.

“I guess this was our lucky day,” Nora said.

“We saw him force you off the road,” Abe explained. “We were right behind you.”

“Good thing. That was great of you guys to stop. A lot of people would’ve kept on going.”

“Yes,” Tyler said. “We sure appreciate it.”

Abe nodded slightly. He looked into her eyes with a steady, probing gaze. It made her nervous. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. “Did he hurt you?”

Tyler shook her head. “Not much.”

“That’s his blood, I hope.”

“I think so.”

“Look,” Nora said, “you guys are heading north? Why don’t we all stop somewhere, we’ll buy you a drink?”