The Edge of Sleep

Chapter 21

Edgar Rappaport could not believe his luck. He had taken what looked on the map to be a shortcut between Springfield and Pittsfield and had ended up on a steadily narrowing back road that was threatening to become a cow path. He had been dawdling behind an ultracautious Volvo for the better part of half an hour, aching to pass but being frustrated at every opportunity-and there were few on these hilly, winding roads-by oncoming traffic. There would seem to be no other cars on the road except the Volvo in front of him until they reached a brief section with dotted passing lines and then, out of nowhere, would materialize another car, coming straight at him, pushing him back behind the Volvo. Meanwhile the road seemed to be shrinking in width with each passing mile.

His luck, however, was good, better than he could have hoped for, because when he was forced to stop at the only stoplight in a village at the base of a mountain, he saw her stopped opposite him, going the other way. It took him a moment to remember her name, but it was her, no question about it. He even remembered the dull green Dodge Charger; he had followed it from the mall to her motel.

She did not see him, did not even glance in his direction when the light changed and she drove past him, less than twenty feet away. There was no mistaking her. Her face was stamped into Edgar’s memory with all the force of major trauma. He remembered her pulling his clothes off, urging him to fuck her for all he was worth, then demanding more, taunting him, coming at him with a razor.

Dee, that was her name. Dee the crazy lady. Dee the lunatic. And now, most important. Dee alone. Dee without her monster boyfriend.

Edgar made a U-turn in the intersection and followed her. He stayed well behind the Charger, trying to think through his options. What he wanted was to have her arrested. No, not just arrested, convicted, sent away and locked up. Let her know what he felt like in the trunk of his car, only for about five or six years. The problem was to arrange that without involving himself in any way that might get back to his wife. Or better yet, fuck her first, then get her arrested. Despite the brutal aftermath, Edgar still remembered the sex with Dee as the wildest, most exciting he had ever had. And she had obviously loved it, too. She couldn’t get enough, in fact, which had been the problem. Edgar thought of ways of getting her alone and disarmed; then he would give her all the sex she could handle-but not when she wanted it, when he decided it was time for more. Chain her to the bedpost, something like that. He laughed at the thought, then realized it wasn’t so outlandish after all. People did do things like that, he read about them. Did it willingly, that was the point. He had no intention of setting himself up for prosecution; he wasn’t going to kidnap her, but she was just the kind of woman who might well be talked into it. She’d like it in the long run, no question. He was scheduled for one night in Pittsfield, but he could stretch it to two.

Edgar pulled a little closer to the Charger so he could make out her head clearly. She was a good-looking woman. And sexy. Very sexy. Crazy, maybe, but as horny as Edgar himself. And alone now, thank God.

He wouldn’t have to actually force her, he thought. She’d be willing enough once she understood it was in her own interest. All he had to do was threaten to call the cops on her, swear he would testify against her-how would she know that was a bluff? It wasn’t force, just a little inducement to do what she loved doing anyway. Then get her into a motel without razor blades and the rest would take care of itself. He didn’t really mean to tie her up-although that was an intriguing thought.

Edgar breathed deeply and tried to dismiss the whole fantasy. He was alone on the road far too much; the solitude was not good for the imagination. He was never as horny at home as he was when he was traveling, he never thought of tying up his wife. Nor, he was sure, did his wife, which was part of the problem. If Mimi showed a little more sense of adventure, hell, if she even seemed to want him, if it wasn’t always Edgar who had to make the overtures, he probably wouldn’t be in this condition in the first place. He remembered Dee on her hands and knees on the carpet, howling like a beast. Christ, there must be a way. Fuck her blind, then get her arrested. Or just fuck her if that was all he could manage. But do it a lot, enough to make up for what she’d done to him. He almost rear-ended the Charger before he realized it had stopped at a railroad crossing. She looked in her rearview mirror; he could see her eyes searching his face. Of course she remembered him, he thought; it was not the kind of night she’d forget. And since she knew he was there, he had to do something or just turn around and drive away. Amid flashing lights and clanging bells, a freight train surged past the crossing. Dee was going nowhere now. She was pinned between the train in front and Edgar’s car behind her. She held his eyes in the mirror now and he saw her lips move. It was either get out of the car now or just look at her in the mirror, then drive away and forget the whole thing.

Still not certain what he was going to say, Edgar walked to Dee’s car. He leaned down with a big grin.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

“Small world,” she said. The train was making so much noise he could barely hear her.

“Do you remember me?”

“Sure,” she said with that mocking smile. Edgar remembered that smile. Sexy as hell, as if she were daring him to make the next move. “You’re Lyle.”

Edgar looked at the train for a moment, willing it to hurry past. Whatever he was going to say, he didn’t want to have to shout it.

“Do you remember me?” she asked.

“Vaguely,” said Edgar, trying to muster a copy of her derisive grin. “You’re Dee.”

“Good boy.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, actually,” Edgar said.

“Isn’t that funny? I’ve been thinking about you, too. You want to go first?”

She looked up at him under lowered lashes. “I always prefer it if the man makes the first move,” she said.

Edgar said, “That’s not the way I remember it, but I don’t mind. What I was thinking is, should I call the cops and tell them where to find you, or should I take you to the nearest motel and we can work something out together?”

“Do you have a phone in your car?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then you can’t make a phone call to the police from here, anyway, can you? So you might as well go to the nearest motel.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“As a matter of fact, Lyle, the closest motel from here is mine.”

“Oh, no,” said Edgar. “We’re not going to your motel.”

“Why not? We could start working things out in five minutes.”

“Because your gorilla boyfriend will be there.”

“Oh, Ash isn’t at the motel.”

“He isn’t, huh?” -

“No.”

“How do I know that?”

“I just told you. Don’t you believe me?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Yes, Lyle, I certainly do.” She smiled so brightly at him that Edgar thought he had misunderstood her because of the noise of the train.

“I promise you Ash isn’t at the motel,” she said.

“Why should I believe that?”

“Because he’s right here,” she said. She took hold of his tie and pulled him toward her. For a second he thought she was going to kiss him, but then he saw the movement in the back of the car. The whole seat seemed to rise up, then an arm flashed out. Edgar jerked away reflexively, but Dee held him within the car by his necktie. He felt the crushing hand on his throat before he saw the face and enormous bulk of Ash emerge from under the blanket.

Jack heard the voices dimly, all sounds being muffled by the blanket and the body of the man on top of him. The motion of the car had stopped, there was a roar and a clanging which he knew to be a train crossing, then the voices of a man and a woman talking above the clamor of the train. The man’s body was not really on him; he felt no weight from it, just the shape of it, like a huge shell holding him down, or, oddly, protecting him.

Suddenly the shell was torn away as the body vaulted upwards. Jack saw light and lifted his head, blinking. He saw the man’s arm stretching over the seat back, heard a man gargling dryly as if something was caught in his throat.

Jack saw the car door, clawed at the handle, then crawled out from under the blanket, out from under the man’s body. The man seemed to have forgotten him. Then Jack was on the road and he began to run without seeing where he was going, just away, as fast as he could, off the road so the man and the nurse couldn’t follow him. For a second he heard the gargling sound grow louder, more desperate, but then Jack had sprinted beyond the sound. He leaped into the shallow dry ditch next to the tracks and ran. The train slammed by him, dangerously close, and Jack recoiled, amazed that he hadn’t noticed it before.

Almost at once he knew he had made a mistake. The ditch grew deeper, trapping him in its recesses. He had no choice but to continue straight ahead; climbing the bank to flatter ground would take him too long and he knew he had to flee as if hotly pursued even though he had not yet looked back to see if he was being chased. He didn’t dare to look back; he knew that he would be paralyzed by fear if he saw someone coming.

He could hear nothing; there was nothing to hear over the roar of the train. The wheels clattered against the steel rails and the cars swayed overhead as if they must surely topple into the ditch and crush him.

The ditch ran parallel to the tracks, around a curve, seeming to sink almost directly under the wheels of the train that never stopped, and then it began to rise again, growing shallower by the step. At the end of it he could see first one, then another house. Within a few steps he could be able to leap out of the ditch, into the adjoining field, then straight to the houses and people and safety.

He made the leap and felt something catch at his T-shirt. He hung on the lip of the ditch, teetering there, flailing his arms to keep his balance as something tried to pull him back down. He saw a girl in the backyard of a house staring at him from her swing set. She raised a hand tentatively, not certain if he was rotating his arms in a greeting.

Jack’s weight was thrown to the side and he spun around, still atop the edge of the ditch. He ducked his head and found himself face to face with the nurse who was panting hard, her lips curled into a snarl. Jack pulled backwards and she peeled the T-shirt off his body like she was skinning a rabbit. Suddenly released, he stumbled and sat down abruptly, still looking straight at the nurse in the ditch. Before he could get up, she had him by the ankle. It occurred to him to yell as he was being dragged back into the ditch, but it seemed he needed all his breath to resist the nurse. Jack saw the girl on the swing watch in amazement as he disappeared, inch by inch, into the ditch. He managed to scream very briefly before he sank out of sight entirely and a hand clapped over his mouth.

The nurse was calling him “precious” and her “darling boy” as she dragged and carried him back to the car, but Jack was too frightened to make any sense of her words. A huge man waited by the car, another man hanging limply from his hand. The big man looked puzzled, still clutching the other by the throat, holding him as if not quite certain what to do with him, like a toy rendered useless now that the game was completed. Jack had seen a cat look like that, baffled and no longer interested, embarrassed to explain how the mouse had gotten in its mouth in the first place.