Full Dark, No Stars

Because he’s been exercising, she thought. She forgot about playing dead and tried to scream. Before she could, his huge hands gripped her throat and began to choke. She thought: It’s over. I’m over. They were calm thoughts, ful of relief. At least there would be no more pain, no more waking to watch the monster-man dance in the burning sunset light.

She passed out.

- 8 -

When Tess swam back to consciousness the third time, the world had turned black and silver and she was floating.

This is what it’s like to be dead.

Then she registered hands beneath her—big hands, his hands—and the barbwire circlet of pain around her throat. He hadn’t choked her quite enough to kil her, but she was wearing the shape of his hands like a necklace, palms in front, fingers on the sides and the nape of her neck.

It was night. The moon was up. A ful moon. He was carrying her across the parking lot of the deserted store. He was carrying her past his truck. She didn’t see her Expedition. Her Expedition was

gone.

Wherefore art thou, Tom?

He stopped at the edge of the road. She could smel his sweat and feel the rise and fal of his chest. She could feel the night air, cool on her bare legs. She could hear the sign ticking behind her, YOU

LIKE IT IT LIKES YOU.

Does he think I’m dead? He can’t think I’m dead. I’m still bleeding.

Or was she? It was hard to tel for sure. She lay limp in his arms, feeling like a girl in a horror movie, the one who’s carried away by Jason or Michael or Freddy or whatever his name was after al the other ones are slaughtered. Carried to some slumpy deep-woods lair where she would be chained to a hook in the ceiling. In those movies there were always chains and hooks in the ceiling.

He got moving again. She could hear his workshoes on the patched tar of Stagg Road: clud-clump-clud. Then, on the far side, scraping noises and clattering sounds. He was kicking away the

chunks of wood she had so careful y cleaned up and thrown down here in the ditch. She could no longer hear the ticking sign, but she could hear running water. Not much, not a gush, only a trickle. He knelt down. A soft grunt escaped him.

Now he’ll kill me for sure. And at least I won’t have to listen to any more of his awful singing. It’s the beauty part, Ramona Norville would say.

“Hey girl,” he said in a kindly voice.

She didn’t reply, but she could see him bending over her, looking into her half-lidded eyes. She took great care to keep them stil . If he saw them move, even a little… or a gleam of tears…

“Hey.” He popped the flat of his hand against her cheek. She let her head rol to the side.

“Hey!” This time he outright slapped her, but on the other cheek. Tess let her head rol back the other way.

He pinched her nipple, but he hadn’t bothered to take off her blouse and bra and it didn’t hurt too badly. She lay limp.

“I’m sorry I cal ed you a bitch,” he said, stil using the kindly voice. “You was a good fuck. And I like em a little older.”

Tess realized he real y might think she was dead. It was amazing, but could be true. And al at once she wanted very badly to live.

He picked her up again. The mansweat smel was suddenly overwhelming. Beard bristles tickled the side of her face, and it was al she could do not to twitch away from them. He kissed the corner of

her mouth.

“Sorry I was a little rough.”

Then he was moving her again. The sound of the running water got louder. The moonlight was blotted out. There was a smel —no, a stench—of rotting leaves. He put her down in four or five inches of

water. It was very cold, and she almost cried out. He pushed on her feet and she let her knees go up. Boneless, she thought. Have to stay boneless. They didn’t go far before bumping against a corrugated metal surface.

“Fuck,” he said, speaking in a reflective tone. Then he shoved her.

Tess remained limp even when something—a branch—scrawled a line of hurt down the center of her back. Her knees bumped along the corrugations above her. Her buttocks pushed a spongy mass,

and the smel of rotting vegetable matter intensified. It was as thick as meat. She felt a terrible urge to cough the smel away. She could feel a mat of wet leaves gathering in the smal of her back, like a throw-pil ow soaked with water.

If he figures it out now, I’ll fight him. I’ll kick him and kick him and kick him—

But nothing happened. For a long time she was afraid to open her eyes any wider or move them in the slightest. She imagined him crouching there, looking into the pipe where he’d stashed her, head