In Laymon's Terms

Cindy’s legs were wrapped tightly around Stan’s hips. Her arms encircled him, hugging him close. Then as footsteps sounded in the hall Cindy shouted in a voice that rang with panic, “Brodo! Brodo! Help! Help! Help!” The footsteps quickened to a pounding, running sound.

Originally Published in Bestseller #23, 1985

CHAPTER 1

TROUBLE ON THE SET

The bedroom door flew open. It hit the wall with a loud bang, but the noise didn’t surprise the young woman inside. She kept looking out the window, her back to the gray-haired woman who rushed toward her.

“Melissa!”

The young woman turned around slowly, petting the black cat in her arms. “Yes, Mother?”

The rushing woman stopped suddenly, as if afraid to come closer. “The Higgins boy,” she said in an angry voice.

Melissa smiled at the words and kept on petting her cat. “Higgins? Do you mean Paul Higgins, who threw a rock at my little Midnight?”

“You know good and well who I mean. He’s dead.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Melissa purred. “Isn’t that too bad, Midnight?”

The cat rubbed its head against the side of Melissa’s neck.

“You killed him!”

“What a thing to say! Poor Paul. How did he die?” Melissa asked.

“As if you didn’t know. He crashed his motorcycle into a tree. They say a cat ran out in the road in front of him, and he made a sharp turn to keep from hitting it.”

“And when did this awful accident happen?” Melissa looked up at her mother.

“Last night. Right around nine o’clock.”

“Well then, you can’t blame me, Mother. I was right in the front room with you at nine, wasn’t I?”

The older woman shook her head. “Don’t give me that talk! Maybe you can fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me! I know your ways. You hexed that boy, just like you hexed all the others.”

Melissa broke into a smile again and looked right at Midnight. “Mother thinks I’m evil,” she said.

“I know you are! You are evil! If I had my way, I would...”

“You’d what?”

The older woman shook her head. Then she backed away as Melissa took a step toward her.

“You shouldn’t talk to me that way, Mother,” Melissa said in a strange voice.

With a sudden hiss, the cat raked its paw across Melissa’s face. Melissa screamed and tried to push the cat away. But the animal hung on, scratching and biting like a black whirlwind—

“Stop the action! Cut! Cut!” the director yelled as he jumped out of his seat. “Somebody help her! What’s wrong with that cat?”

Groups of stagehands started rushing onto the movie set. But Neal reached the woman ahead of everyone else. He grabbed the cat and pulled it away. But then the animal turned on him, spitting and scratching at the back of his hand. Neal threw the cat into the air. It turned over, landed on its feet, and ran away across the sound stage.

Neal turned to the young woman. Her eyes were wide, and she was breathing heavily. Blood dripped from her scratched cheek. Her arms and hands were bleeding too.

Neal wasn’t sure what to do. “Are you OK?” he asked. Then he thought, What a dumb thing to say!

“I’m...” The young woman shook her head. “Thank you.”

The director ran up and stepped in front of Neal. “Lynda? What happened?”

The young woman shook her head again.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” said the woman who had played Melissa’s mother. “That cat just suddenly went crazy.”

“I’ve never seen him that way,” said a dark-haired man named Bill. Neal knew he was the cat’s trainer. “Duncan’s always been so gentle.”

The director sighed. “Well, we’ll have to get another cat. And we won’t be able to shoot any more today. Come with me, Lynda. I’ll get you over to the first aid station.” He sighed again. “Why do these things always happen to me?”

Neal watched Lynda make her way across the floor. Then he turned and started to walk off the set.

“Wait!” It was Lynda’s voice.

Neal looked around.

“He’s hurt, too, Hal,” she told the director, pointing back at Neal.

“All right. Come along with us, young man. I’ll have the doctor...” Hal suddenly frowned. “Who are you?”

“Neal Portis,” Neal said. He tried to smile as he spoke.

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me? Who are you? What do you do here?”

Neal felt his face getting red. “I was just passing by.”

“Passing by? You’re not with the studio?” shouted the director.

“No, sir.”

“How did you get through the gate?”

“I think...well, the man there seems to think I work here.”

“He does, does he? Well I’ll put a stop to...”

“Stop it, Hal,” Lynda broke in. “Please. He didn’t hurt anything. And he did help. He got the cat off me. Can’t you just leave him alone?”

“I should have him kicked out.” Hal shook a finger at Neal. “You’ve no business being here, young man.”

“Hal!”

“OK, OK, Lynda. But I want you out of here, Mr. Portis.”

Neal could hear Lynda’s “Thanks again, Neal” as Hal pulled her through the door.

CHAPTER 2

A PHONE CALL

Neal was reading a book. The Genius of Alfred Hitchcock, when the telephone rang. A few seconds later, his mother called from the hallway. “Neal, it’s for you.”