After Midnight by Richard Laymon Read Free Book Online Page B

stopped the car. I got out and opened the trunk. It looked pretty empty except for the spare tire. Leaving it open, I went over to Tony.
    I picked up his legs by the ankles, turned him, and started dragging him toward the driveway. The grass was still wet from the sprinklers. The wetness helped his body slide, but also made my footing tricky. A couple of times, my feet flew out from under me and I landed on my butt, which didn’t feel too swift.
    By the time we reached the edge of the driveway, I knew we had a problem. Not to be too graphic about it, his split head had left a trail across the grass. The stuff on the grass wasn’t what worried me, though. Most of it would go away after the automatic sprinkling system had gone through a few cycles. Birds, ants, and so forth would take care of the rest. The problem, for me, was whatever might get on the driveway. I didn’t want to wake up in the morning and find bloodstains on the concrete. They’d be hard to get rid of.
    At first, the only possible solution seemed to be a plastic bag over Tony’s head to catch whatever might want to slop out.
    But I was in no mood to run around hunting for a bag.
    Finally, I came up with a simple answer to the problem. All I had to do was turn the car sideways so its rear jutted out over the grass.
    So that’s what I did. The driveway was wide enough to make it fairly simple.
    I lined the car up with Tony, backed up until the rear tires almost went off the edge of the driveway, then climbed out and looked at him.
    Loading his body into the trunk was going to be a bear.
    And messy, too.
    But it couldn’t be avoided.
    Before getting started, I took off the shirt and cut-off jeans and tossed them onto the driver’s seat. For one thing, I didn’t want them to get gory. For another, the night was too hot for clothes, especially if you’re doing hard work.
    I stepped out of the shoes and left them on the driveway.
    Then I walked onto the slippery wet grass, straddled Tony’s hips, bent down, clutched his wrists and straightened up, pulling him. His back came off the ground. But then, instead of continuing to rise, he slid on his butt and went scooting between my legs. I scurried backward, trying to stay with him, and bumped into the rear of the car.
    “Shit!”
    He was up to his waist beneath the car like a grease monkey going under to make repairs.
    Hanging on to his wrists, I waddled forward to drag him out. He just lay beneath me, staring at the show while I hobbled over him, my breasts lurching from side to side between my down-stretched arms.
    By the time I’d left his head behind me, I was doubled over like a contortionist, my arms straining backward between my legs. At last, he started to slide.
    I shuffled onward, pulling him.
    He finally cleared the car. By then, I was huffing and sweaty again.
    I sat down on the rear bumper.
    “Should’ve minded your own business,” I muttered. “You wouldn’t be dead, for one thing. For another, you wouldn’t be putting me through all this shit.”
    He didn’t answer.
    He probably figured, though, that I didn’t have much room for complaining. I was still alive, after all, whereas he wasn’t. I was inconvenienced, but he was toes up.
    “This is more than a little inconvenience, buddy,” I told him. “This is a major pain in the ass.”
    The night was way too hot for such work. Sweat was pouring down my body. It made my eyes sting. It tickled my sides and back.
    How nice it would’ve been, just then, to go around back and jump in the pool.
    Thinking about the pool, I remembered the prowler. A funny thing, though. The thought of him didn’t frighten me, disgust me, thrill me—nothing. He’d lost all his powers to intimidate or fascinate me. Probably the moment I put the saber through Tony’s head.
    His fault.
    All his fault.
    True enough, I thought. That bastard got Tony killed as sure as if he’d been the one swinging the sword.
    I oughta kill his ass for doing this to Tony and