“No. I never said that.”
“Yes, Courtney. You did.”
She looked into his dark-ringed, bloodshot eyes, into the vaguely
unfocused blue circles, and for the first time in her life she
experienced the fear which belonged solely to women. She knew he might
try to rape her. And she knew that even as gaunt as he was, he would be
strong enough to do it . . . But wasn’t it ridiculous to fear him
this way?
Hadn’t she been to bed with him dozens of times in the past, before he
had started to change? What was there to fear, then? But she knew. It
was not the sex that she feared.
it was the force involved, the violent potential, the humiliation and
the sense of being used. She did not know how he had gotten here or how
he had learned their address. She did not know his circumstances or
full intentions. But none of that mattered worth a damn. All that
mattered right now was whether or not he would rape her. She felt weak,
helpless, and oppressed. She was cold and hollow inside, trembling at
the prospect of having to accept his forced attentions.
“You better not stay here any longer,” she said, despising herself for
the tremor in her voice. “Alex will be here in a few minutes.”
Leland smiled. “Well, of course he will. I know that.”
She could not figure out what he wanted, what he thought he could
achieve beyond the brief, vicious taking of her. “Then why are you
here?”
“We talked about that bef ore.
“No. No, we did not.”
“Sure, Courtney. You remember. In the van, we talked. On the way
here. You and me. We’ve talked about it for several days now-how we
could take care of them and then be together again.”
She was no longer merely frightened. She was terrified. Finally he had
gone over the edge. Whatever was wrong with him-some physical illness
or a psychological disease it had at last pushed him beyond sanity.
“George, you’ve got to listen. Are you listening to me?”
“Sure, Courtney. I like your voice.”
She shuddered involuntarily. “George, you are not well. Whatever has
been wrong with you for the past two years-” The smile faded from his
face as he interrupted her. “I’m perfectly healthy. Why do you always
insist I’m not?”
“Did you ever have those X-rays that the doctor-”
“Shut up!” he said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“George, if you’re sick, maybe there’s still something-” She saw the
blow coming, but she could not pull away from it in time. His big cal-
I loused hand struck her hard alongside the head. Her teeth rattled.
She thought that was an almost funny sound But then the darkness rushed
up at her, and she knew that she was going to faint Unconscious, she
would be even more help’ less. And she realized, suddenly, that rape
might be the least of her worries. He mightnot rape her at all. He
might kill her.
She cried out, or thought that she did, and then she fell away into an
inky pool.
Leland went out to the van and got the .32-caliber pistol which he had
forgotten to bring with him the first time. He came back into the
living room and stood by the sofa, looking down at her, admiring her
golden hair and her freckles, the exquisite lines of her face.
Why couldn’t she have been nice to him?
All the way across the country, she had been nice. When he told her to
stop nagging him about something, she had stopped at once.
But now she was the bitch again, picking at him, trying to say his mind
was going on him. Didn’t she know that was impossible?
it was his mind that had gotten him all the scholarships, years ago. It
was his superb mind which had gotten him off that damn farm, away from
the poverty and the Biblethumping and his father’s paddle.
So he couldn’t be losing his mind. She only said that to frighten him.
He put the pistol barrel in her ear.
But he could not pull the trigger.