Walkers

Chapter 12

The window was all the way open, letting in the crisp scent of evergreen. It mingled with the raw-wood smell of the cabin in a bracing combination no laboratory could reproduce. Joana rolled over in the narrow bed and nuzzled Glen Early's bare shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head. "Comfortable?"

"I don't ever want to move."

"We'll probably have to when the next renters move into the cabin."

"I suppose so. What time is it?"

Glen reached down to the floor on his side of the bed and groped around until he found his wristwatch. He brought it up and looked at it.

"Six o'clock."

"a. m. or p.m?"

"P.M."

"Damn, that means our weekend is almost over," Joana said.

"Almost."

"Do you realize we spent the entire forty-eight hours right here in bed?"

"We did not," Glen said. "Saturday we walked down to the little store for food and beer, and just this morning we took a hike up the trail by the lake."

"That's right," Joana said, "I guess I forgot about those." She rubbed a hand over Glen's naked torso. He had crisp, curly chest hair, a flat stomach, nice narrow hips, and…

"Are you trying to start something?" he said.

"Just keep something going."

He rolled over to face her. Joana looked deeply into his eyes. He kissed her and she returned it, her mouth open and eager. His hand moved down over the smooth curve of her hack and came to rest on her bottom. She felt his rising sexual excitement against her thighs. She opened her legs. Glen's hand came around from behind her and slid into the damp nest between her legs.

Joana gasped as his strong fingers stroked her. She said, "I'm ready any time you are." Her voice was hoarse and whispery.

Glen threw off the sheet that covered them and shifted his position. Joana reached down to guide him into her. He was hard and hot, and she could feel his pulse throb in the big vein that ran along the bottom of his penis.

He rolled on top of her and she pulled him down, mashing her breasts against his chest. He was gentle at first and easy as he slid the length of him into her, then out. Gradually his movements became more insistent, even fierce, as the climax approached. She felt his release and the hot spurt of juices an instant before her own. Their bodies clung together, heaving, shuddering, then slowly quieting. Joana pressed her legs together, holding him inside.

"I love you, Joana," he said.

"Me too, you."

"Why don't we get married?"

She drew back her head and looked at him. "Did I hear right just now?"

"If you heard me ask you to marry me, you heard right," he said.

"You're kidding."

"Would I kid you in this position?"

"Especially in this position."

"Well, I mean it. How about it?"

Joana's entire body tingled electrically. She felt herself getting aroused all over again.

"You have such a romantic way with words," she said with her mouth on his.

"If you want, I'll do it later in rhyme, on bended knee."

"That would be nice."

"Seriously, Joana, I really want to be married to you. Spending these weekends together is great, and I'm always glad when we can get together during the week, but the days in between seem wasted. I don't want to take a chance on losing you."

"You mean it, don't you."

"Hell yes, I mean it."

"What about just moving in together. Dispense with all the paperwork and stuff."

"I thought about that, but to tell you the truth, I don't think it would work for me. There's just enough middle-class morality in my upbringing to make me uncomfortable with the idea. So I guess if we do it, it's going to have to be legal."

"Ah, my Glen, I do love you."

"Then how about it?"

"All right."

The new commitment acted on both of them as a powerful aphrodisiac, and it was another hour before they rolled out of bed and showered together to get ready for the trip home.

They talked quietly together about getting married as Glen steered the Camaro down the darkening road out of the mountains. They agreed they would not make any big deal out of the wedding, just tell a few close friends, then do it. They decided October would be a good time, right after the World Series.

As they came out of the mountains the road straightened, heading for the San Bernardino Freeway. The conversation lapsed. Joana's buoyant mood and her happy thoughts of the future dimmed, and the lurking fear crept back into the car with her.

During most of the weekend she had been able to pretend that the terrible thing in the swimming pool had never happened, and to keep out of her mind the events that had followed. But now they were returning from their cabin in the sky to the real world, and somewhere in this world lurked an unnamed menace. Joana laid a hand on Glen's thigh. He put his hand over hers for a moment and smiled at her. The bucket seats in the Camaro prevented her from moving as close to him as she would have liked.

They were both silent as they joined the freeway parade of people returning home to Los Angeles from the weekend. Glen had to give his full attention to his driving, and Joana did not feel like talking anyway. She snapped on the car radio and found an FM station that was playing easy-listening rock. For the remainder of the trip she closed her eyes and let Kris Kristofferson and Linda Ronstadt take over.

It was ten o'clock when Glen pulled up at the house on Beachwood Drive. He parked behind Joana's Datsun, and they walked together up the path through the shrubbery that led to her house.

At the front door Glen set down her bag and kissed her. Joana clung to him. For a reason she could not explain, she felt like crying.

"Glen?"

"Hmm?"

"We don't have to, you know."

"Have to what?"

"Get married."

He looked at her, his eyes deep and serious. "I know we don't. Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, not me. I just thought that you, up there with the trees and the moon and the cabin and all that romantic stuff, might have, well, got carried away."

Glen took both her hands in his. "Joana, hear me. I love you. I mean I really, flat-out love you. And I want to marry you. You are the most important thing in my life."

She squeezed his hands. "But aren't you scared? About getting married, I mean?"

"Sure I am. A man would be a fool not to be a little scared. What about you?"

"I am too, a little. But I'll tell you one thing, I'm sure not scared enough to say no. Mister, you got yourself engaged."

Glen tilted her chin up, but before he could kiss her, the telephone bell shrilled inside the house.

Joana frowned. "Who would be calling me at this hour?" She unlocked the door. "Come in for a minute, Glen. I'll take care of whoever's on the phone, then we can say good night properly."

He followed her inside and closed the door.

Joana hurried to pick up the phone before it stopped ringing. The voice that spoke to her over the wire was high-pitched and agitated.

"Joana, thank God I finally got you. Where have you been all day?"

"I've been out. Who is this?"

"Peter. Peter Landau. Listen, I've got to talk to you. I think I've figured it out."

"Figured what out? What are you talking about?" She covered the mouthpiece and spoke to Glen. "It's Peter Landau."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know. He's not making sense."

"Joana, are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here, Peter. What's this all about?"

"I don't want to talk about it over the telephone," he said.

"Why not, for heaven's sake?"

"I just don't. Can you come up here?"

"No way," Joana said firmly. "I just got home, I'm tired, and I'm certainly not going anywhere without knowing what this is all about."

"I'll come to your place then."

"Peter, I'm not in the mood for visitors."

"I'm not a visitor. I have to talk to you."

"Besides, Glen is here."

"I don't care who's there. Damn it, Joana, I'm not putting a move on you. I've found out something. Something important as hell. It's vital that you know about it right away."

There was a jagged edge of hysteria to Peter's voice. Joana had no doubt he was deadly serious.

"All right," she said, "come on over, but don't make it late. I'm really tired."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

The phone went dead in Joana's hand. She stared at it a moment before hanging up.

"He insists on coming over here," she said to Glen. "Says he's found out something important that I should know. He sounded a little bit crazy. Can you stay until he gets here?"

"You couldn't drive me away," Glen said.

Joana put on a pot of coffee, and she and Glen sat uneasily together in the living room waiting for Peter Landau.

Several blocks away, down the hill toward Hollywood, a big man with powerful shoulders walked silently toward Joana's house. The flesh of his face was unnaturally dark and bloated. His arms hung straight at his sides. The man's eyes were dull and dead.