The Strange Story of Linda Lee (25 page)

But that this unwashed human animal should have thought for one moment that she would submit to his caresses seemed to her almost unbelievable. Revolted as she was at the very idea, and not a little scared by the knowledge that probably no other human beings were within miles of them, she managed to keep her voice level, as she said:

‘If you mean what I think you mean, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. I’m not that sort of a girl.’

‘Come orf it!’ he retorted with a frown. ‘Maybe I ain’t the class of gent yer used ter going with. But I’m as good a stallion as they come. Plenty of girls ’ave tol’ me that. It’s the one thing women really care about in a man. An’ don’t give me no gup about yer ’avin’ yer monthlies.’

‘I tell you I’m not the sort of girl you think,’ Linda retorted with disgust.

‘Yer kiddin’. You’re an actress, ain’t yer? All them girls in shows is tarts, or good as. Leastways they ’as to up with their ’eels any time the manager feels like ’avin’ a bit, else they’d lose their jobs. My young sister is in cabaret an’ she tol me so.’

‘That may be true about girls in night spots, but it’s not about girls on the stage. Not now, anyway. These days even in musical comedy most of the chorus girls come from respectable families, and would never allow themselves to be blackmailed into sleeping with men they didn’t like.’

‘Oh, I ain’t sayin’ you wasn’t brought up respectable. Anyone could see you got class. But that don’t mean nothin’. ‘Ow about the gent yer was shackin’ up with till lars’ night? You says yer walked out on ’im. It don’t stand to reason any woman the likes of you would set off ter ’itch-’ike through the forest with it under snow. It’s my guess that yer gent’s old woman turned up unexpected an’ threw yer out on yer arse.’

Linda had gone very pale, and her heart was hammering rapidly. With a steady stare her big brown eyes were fixed on those of her companion. Every moment she found his thatch of yellow hair, loose, gap-toothed mouth and long chin covered with stubbly bristles more repulsive. Only one car had passed along the road while they had been eating. Even if another came along within the next few minutes, the odds were all against its occupants hearing her shout for help. The memory of the night she had been raped by the young schoolmaster came back to her. This would be far worse. If she continued to refuse him, she felt certain that he
would force her. Yet nothing—nothing—would induce her to submit.

Could she possibly escape? If she could evade the clutch he would make at her, there was a good chance of her getting through the door. But he would be after her in a flash. Strong and long-legged as she was, his legs were longer. He would catch her before she had covered a dozen yards, and haul her back.

Taking her silence for indecision, he suddenly grinned and said, ‘I know what’s bitin’ yer. You’re pernickety, that’s what. Dames like you are used ter feather beds. Don’t like the idea of yer bum on this ’ere earth floor. Well, maybe you’ll find it a bit ’ard with me on top of yer. But you’ll soon ferget abart that. ‘Sight better than a springy mattress fer the game we’re goin’ ter play. Soon as I’ve ’ad yer you’ll be askin’ fer more.’

‘Perhaps you are right,’ she said quietly. ‘But first I’d like another beer.’

He grinned again. ‘That’s better, kiddo. Glad you’ve got sense enough ter take it willin’. The big one I’ve got ’ull make you ’it the roof. Pity it’s so cold. I’d like ter have ’ad yer naked. That figure you got gave me ’ot pants the moment I saw yer. But we’ll ’ave ter make do with yer jus’ takin’ orf yer drawers.’

As he was speaking he turned round to get another can of beer from the tin box behind him. Jumping to her feet, Linda sprang past him and dashed out of the door. Yelling an oath, he swung round, dropped the can and bounded after her. With every ounce of speed she could muster, she raced through the trees toward the road. Half crazy with fear she heard him pounding in pursuit. In little more than a minute he grabbed her by the arm and swung her round. His small green eyes were blazing with anger and he snarled:

‘So yer’d bilk me, would yer? You bloody stuck-up bitch. I’ll larn yer fer tryin’ ter trick me. Just see if I don’t. You got it comin’ ter yer, an’ no mistake. Said I’d like to ’ave yer naked, didn’t I? Well, so I will. Strip yer of every rag an ’ave yer do a dance fer me, till yer teeth chatters in yer’ead.’

As they glared at each other, the icy air turned their breath to steam and, although she had eaten onions herself, they were evidently his regular diet, for he stank of them. Pulling back her head, she gasped, ‘Let me go! Let me go, you brute!’ But, with a spate of curses, he began to pull her back to the shack.

She cursed, screamed and pleaded, all in vain. Linda was strong for a woman, but he was much stronger. Finding resistance useless, she fell to her knees in an attempt to check him. He gave a harsh laugh and, seizing one of her wrists in a huge, knobbly hand, dragged her behind him through the snow. She strove to bite the hand that held her, but could not reach it.

Once inside the shack, he let go. As she staggered to her feet, he slapped her hard across the face and said with a leer, ‘Now fer it. I’ll ‘ave yer first while you’re good an’ warm, then we’ll ‘ave them fine togs off an’ yer’ll do a jig fer me. Lie dahn on the floor an’ get yer drawers orf.’

Hysterically she screamed at him, ‘I won’t! I won’t! I’ll kill you first.’

With an ugly laugh, he grasped her shoulders, kicked her legs from under her and threw her on the floor. Next moment he was on top of her.

For a moment the impact of his heavy body drove the breath out of her. As she lay supine, his face came down on hers. The bristles on his chin rasped her skin. He glued his mouth to hers, licking at it avidly. She
grabbed a handful of his coarse yellow hair and forced his head away. He shook it free, buried his face in her neck, sucked-it then bit her. As she screamed he jerked his head around and his wet lips slobbered over her mouth again. The stench of the sweat on his unwashed body was so repulsive that her stomach heaved. Frantically she clawed with her fingers at his face. He seized her hands, forced them together to one side of her head, then imprisoned them both in his left hand. She strove desperately to free them, but his grip on two of her fingers and one thumb was too strong. Lowering his free right hand, he thrust it up under her skirt and grabbed a fistful of her knickers, trying to pull them down. Moaning, she squirmed under him. With a sudden wrench he tore part of the silk away, but she was still wearing the extra pair she had put on before going to sleep in the snow. When his hand came up against them, he cursed again, clutched the second pair and tore them open.

With all her remaining strength she pressed her thighs together, and his fumbling hand could make no further progress. Withdrawing it, he knelt up and hit her hard in the stomach with his fist. Winded once more, she gasped and lay still. His hand went under her skirt again, and this time he reached his target. Roughly, he jabbed his fingers at it. Having explored her for a few moments, he drew his hand away, grunted with satisfaction and began to fumble with the buttons of his breeches.

She was still lying limp, with her eyes closed, getting back her breath. As he was having difficulty in undoing the buttons with one hand, and thought she had either fainted or ceased to resist, he released her hands. Her head was turned sideways, and she opened her eyes.
They were lying within two feet of the still glowing fire. Her glance lit on a half-burned piece of wood protruding from the embers. Next moment she had seized it and, as he knelt over her, thrust the burning end into his face. She got him in the left eye. With a scream of agony, he fell back off her.

Kicking her legs free, she got to her feet. He was crouched on the floor, moaning. Snatching up her bag, she shot out of the door as swiftly as though she had been thrown out, stumbled, fell, picked herself up and ran toward the road. Her struggles during the past terrible ten minutes had taken a lot out of her, but fear lent her wings. Fear of death, for she knew that it was no longer only a question of being brutally raped; if he caught her he would kill her.

The type of man he had shown himself to be would not hesitate to choke her to death once he had satisfied his lust on her. What had he to fear? Nothing. She had told him that she was running away from a man with whom she had come to the Rockies, and had lost her way. She might easily have failed to find the road, wandered about in the forest until nightfall, and died sleeping in the snow. It was a miracle she had not died that way the previous night. He had only to carry her body a few hundred yards further in among the trees, put it in a ditch and pile snow over it. No-one had seen them together, so he stood no risk of being connected with her death. The snow would not melt until spring, so her body would not be found until then even if, in this wild country, it ever was.

When she was half-way to the road she threw a swift glance over her shoulder. He had come out of the shack and was after her. Sheer terror gripped her heart. She raced on, now sobbing for breath, the skirt of her coat
flapping round her long legs. No moving vehicle was within sight or sound. There was nowhere she could hide. He would run her down, stun her if need be, and carry her back to as awful a death as she could imagine.

She looked back again. He had one hand over his injured eye, but was coming on through the trees at a stumbling run, moving nearly as fast as she was. For her to keep up her present pace she knew to be impossible. But he might. With such powerful limbs he would. He would run her down, batter her face with his great, knobbly fists and drag or carry her, bleeding, back to a vile and agonising end.

As she reached his lorry, she looked first one way then the other, praying desperately that help would reach her in time. But for half a mile or more on either side the road was empty. Suddenly his voice came, shouting obscenities and, as she had feared, that he meant to kill her. Then still worse:

‘You bloody bitch! Yer done me eye in. I’ll larn yer to play with fire! I’ll shove a burnin’ faggot up yer. Yes, up yer as far as it’ll go.’

Terror gave her an inspiration. The lorry! Could she get away in it? She had driven Big Bear’s car only a dozen times. With him beside her she had found it easy. But to handle a six-ton lorry? It was her only chance. Wrenching open the door of the cab, she hauled herself up, grabbed the wheel and stared helplessly for a moment at the dashboard.

He was only thirty paces off. She jabbed her thumb on the starter. Nothing happened. Again she pressed it, this time keeping her thumb hard down. The engine came to life. She knew she must let it run for a minute, otherwise it would stall. Still yelling at her, he put on a spurt. Almost fainting she forced herself to wait until he
was within six feet of the lorry, then she gently let in the clutch.’

The lorry began to run forward. He bounded up to it and grabbed the still-open door of the cab. Wild-eyed, she stared at him. His closed left eye and cheek were smeared with ash, and flaming red. Just as he was about to pull himself up, she kicked him hard full in his ugly mouth. His eyes boggled, he lost his grip and rolled away into the ditch.

Next second she was seized with a new fear. The lorry had been parked at an angle. It was running across the road and about to be brought to a halt by a steep bank. Her heart lurched. If it did, he would get her yet. With all her strength she wrenched round the wheel. Missing the bank by inches, the lorry careered toward the other side of the road. Heaving again on the wheel, she was just in time to check it.

Another minute and she had it more or less under control. But the heavy lorry proved infinitely more difficult to handle than had Big Bear’s car. All her efforts failed to keep it on the right side of the road. She was terrified that at any moment a vehicle might approach and she would collide head on with it. Yet she dared not stop and leave the lorry before she had put several miles between herself and that devilish man who had yelled that he meant to torture and murder her in such a fiendish manner.

Somehow she got the lorry round the first bend. That gave her more confidence. A long, straight stretch lay ahead, so she risked putting the engine into second, then top gear. On one side of the road there was a bank and the ground sloped steeply upward; on the other it descended to a valley, at times becoming a precipice.

A hundred yards before the next bend she meant to
slow down, but she had left it too late to brake hard without risking disaster. To her horror a station-wagon suddenly emerged from round the corner, coming straight at her. She missed it by inches, then had to wrench the wheel right over to prevent the lorry from hurtling down into the valley. It again charged toward the bank, but she slowed it just in time. Ahead there proved to be a succession of bends. They came so closely one after another that she dared not take a hand off the wheel, even for a moment. The next ten minutes proved a positive nightmare. The lorry swerved wildly from one side of the road to the other. At every curve she expected to meet another vehicle and be unable to prevent the lorry from crashing into it. Entering another straight stretch gave her a temporary respite. But it did not last for more than two minutes. Concentrating entirely on keeping the lorry on the road, she had not even glanced in the mirror. Now, an insistent hooting from behind brought home the fact that someone was trying to pass her. She pulled in, but too quickly, so had to pull out again. The driver of the car in her rear could not possibly have anticipated this dangerous zigzag. As he shot past, she caught the sound of rending steel. The sides of the two vehicles had scraped harshly together. The impact threw the car out of direction. It shot toward the valley side of the road, crossed a ditch and, its speed checked by a steep bank on the far side, came to rest with the, bonnet against a tree-trunk. In passing, Linda glimpsed enough to be sure that neither the driver nor the woman with him was seriously injured. She was sorry for them, but had far too many anxieties of her own even to think of them for more than a few minutes. She still had all her work cut out to prevent the lorry from running off the road.