Authors: James Roy Daley
“You won’t mind being alone when he comes into L.A.?”
“Why should I? I’ve got to learn to be by myself sometime.” The words came out more sharply than Karyn had intended.
“That’s right,” Chris said. “It’s none of my business, anyway.”
They reached the crest of the ridge and the road leveled off for a stretch before descending into the valley on the other side. The air was pungent with the scent of balsam. Karyn reached out and touched Chris’s hand.
“Pull over for a minute, can you?”
Just before the road started down Chris eased the Camaro onto the shoulder and parked next to the metal guardrail. Below them lay a narrow valley, thick with evergreens. Where the road straightened along the floor of the valley a dozen or so toy-like buildings clustered in a clearing of the forest. Several narrow lanes branched off the main road. They could be seen only faintly through the heavy overgrowth. Here and there along the lanes a tiny house sat on a patch of cleared ground reclaimed from the forest. Although the valley was in shadow, no lights shone in the town of Drago.
“It doesn’t look like much from up here, does it?” Karyn said.
Chris did not answer.
“May I have a cigarette?”
He handed her one and lit it for her.
Karyn took several quick puffs before speaking. “I really do want to talk to someone, Chris. Someone who cares about me as a person, not as a case history to read at the next psychiatric convention.”
She mashed the cigarette into the ashtray. When she spoke again the words came out in a rush. “Chris, Roy and I haven’t had good sex together since that day. There’s nothing wrong physically, but it’s just not working. Roy and I have talked and talked about it, and God knows we do try. We go to bed and I want it so much… I go through all the motions. That’s the trouble, all I’m doing is going through the motions. There’s no feeling, and Roy knows it. He can’t help but know it… he’s not a fool. He’s been awfully sweet and patient with me, but I can’t expect him to put up with this forever. I just don’t seem to be getting any better.”
“Did you talk the problem over with your doctor?” Chris asked.
“Oh, hell yes.”
“Did he give you any advice?”
“Nothing I couldn’t have gotten out of
The Reader’s Digest
. Good, sound, logical advice, but I still don’t feel anything.”
“Give it a while,” Chris said. “Two months isn’t much time to get over what happened to you.”
Karyn nodded distractedly.
“Anyway,” Chris went on, “that’s what you’re moving out here to the woods for, isn’t it? Rest and rejuvenation?”
With an encouraging smile, he started the car, pulled back onto the road, and drove down into the valley. As they descended, the mountain loomed up behind and cut off the sun. The air grew cold, and they rolled up the windows. When the road leveled out into the main street of Drago, Chris switched on the headlights against the gathering gloom. They drove slowly along, past the buildings, which had a dusty, unused look. There were a couple of stores, a café, a gas station, a tavern, and a theater with an empty marquee. The only sound they heard was the singing of their tires over the pavement.
Karyn shivered slightly in the cool dusk of the tree-lined street. In the backseat Lady whined softly. Karyn reached back without turning around and rubbed the soft fur at the dog’s throat.
“Where is everybody?” Chris asked. His eyes ranged along the blank fronts of the buildings.
“I don’t know.” Karyn shivered again.
“Is your house on this street?”
“No, it’s up one of these little cross streets. They all look alike, though, and I’m not sure which it is. We’ll have to ask someone.”
Chris eased the Camaro along for a hundred yards, then braked to a stop as a powerful looking man in khakis and a Stetson appeared from the shadows.
Karyn rolled down her window and smiled at the man.
“Hello, there. I wonder if you could tell us how to get to the old Fenno house?”
For a moment she thought the man had not heard. He did not answer her smile, nor did he make any move to respond. His eyes continued to watch from the shadow of the Stetson. Then the man came toward them, moving with a deliberate measured gait. He planted both hands on the windowsill and looked in. Involuntarily, Karyn drew back in the seat.
“You want the Fenno place?” the man said. His voice rumbled up from the deep barrel chest.
“Yes. I’m Karyn Beatty. My husband and I are leasing the house, and I can’t remember which of these side roads it’s on.”
The man thumbed his hat brim up a fraction, and a faint smile twitched on his mouth. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Anton Gadak. I’m sort of the sheriff here in Drago. Fact is, I’m sort of the whole police force. But then, we don’t need all that much policing.” He looked pointedly past Karyn at Chris.
“This is our friend Chris Halloran. He drove me in from Los Angeles. My husband is waiting at the house.”
Anton Gadak nodded, apparently satisfied. “The Fenno place is up the last road that turns off to the left, just before you start up into the hills again.”
Karyn thanked him and Chris started away from the curb. He found the last turnoff with some difficulty. It was little more than a wide weed-covered path into the woods.
“As I remember, it’s up here about a mile,” Karyn said.
They passed two weathered old houses, dark and nearly hidden from the road by the brush. At each Chris looked over at Karyn, who shook her head. They came at last to a small clearing with a white frame cottage trimmed in apple green. A fireplace chimney trailed a ribbon of pale smoke across the slate-gray sky. Lights shone in all the windows, pushing the forest back. Chris pulled onto the clearing and parked behind Roy Beatty’s Galaxie.
Karyn clapped her hands delightedly. “What an improvement! You wouldn’t believe the dismal brown color the house was when we first came out. And the whole place was strangled with brush and weeds. Roy’s done a marvelous job.”
Chris got out of the car and walked back to open the trunk. As he brought out Karyn’s bags the front door of the little house swung open and Roy Beatty came out. He shielded his eyes against the headlights for a moment, then waved a welcome and hurried toward the car.
Karyn jumped out and ran to his arms. “Roy, it’s… it’s beautiful.”
“Didn’t I tell you it had possibilities?” said Roy. “Wait till you see the inside.”
With his arm around Karyn, Roy walked back to the car. “Come on in, Chris, and take a look at how us rural folk live.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got to get back to the city.”
“Are you sure? There’s steaks in the freezer, and the martini makings are already set out.”
“It’s tempting, but I’ll pass this time.”
“Got a date with a live one?”
Chris smiled and gave a noncommittal wave of his hand.
“Bring her out some weekend,” Roy said. “We’ve got an extra bed and plenty of blankets.”
“Maybe I’ll do that.”
Roy hefted Karyn’s two suitcases, then looked around, puzzled. “Where’s Lady?”
“She’s been acting funny,” Karyn said. “I don’t think she knows what to make of the woods.”
At that moment the dog put her nose out for a tentative sniff of the surroundings, then bounded out of the car and frolicked happily around Roy’s feet. He knelt and scratched her ear.
While Roy and Karyn watched the dog, Chris slid into his car and pulled the door closed. Roy walked over and reached through the window to shake his hand.
“Thanks for bringing the family out, buddy,” he said. “Sorry you can’t stay.”
“Maybe next time. I hope the place works out for you, Roy.”
“It will,” Roy assured him.
Karyn came over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Chris backed out onto the narrow lane and drove back the way they had come. Soon the glow of the Camaro’s taillights was lost among the trees.
“I wish Chris had stayed for dinner,” she said as they started toward the house. “I think he’s lonely.”
“Are you kidding? A handsome thirty-year-old bachelor with a good paying job and an apartment at the marina? You call that lonely?”
“You sound a little jealous, mister.”
Roy set down one of her bags, and gave her a swat on the bottom. “That’s right, I can hardly wait to dump you so I can grow a mustache, buy a Porsche, load up on stereo equipment, and be a swinging bachelor.”
Laughing together, they continued up to the front stoop. Roy stood aside and gestured her into the living room.
Karyn started in, then hesitated. She ran her fingers down the surface of the heavy wooden door. Under the fresh green paint a series of deep vertical grooves like scars slashed the panel at about shoulder height.
“What do you suppose made these?” she said.
“Who knows?” Roy shrugged and went on inside.
Karyn followed, thinking about the marks. Absurd though it was, the angry furrows in the wood suggested only one thing.
Claws.
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GARY BRANDNER’S - THE HOWLING II
LOS ANGELES (UPI)––A fire of undetermined origin swept through a narrow valley in the Tehachapi Mountains north of Los Angeles yesterday, virtually wiping out the tiny village of Drago. Firefighters from Los Angeles and Ventura Counties brought the blaze under control early this morning, and had it extinguished before it could threaten any of the neighboring communities.
As yet there has been no reported contact with any of the residents of Drago. Authorities refused to make an estimate on the number of casualties as crews were still sifting through the ashes for victims.
The only known survivors at this hour are Mrs. Karyn Beatty and a friend, Christopher Halloran, both of Los Angeles. Mrs. Beatty’s husband was missing and believed to have perished in the fire. Halloran and Mrs. Beatty declined to speak with reporters.
According to U.S. Forest Ranger Phil Henry, the final death toll may never be known. Since Drago was not an incorporated town, no accurate records were kept of its population. It is estimated that between one hundred and two hundred people lived there. So intense was the blaze, which destroyed two hundred acres of timber in addition to the village, that searchers are finding it difficult to distinguish human remains from those of animals.
1
Karyn knelt on the moist grass and worked with her fingers in the dirt around the roots of the rosebush. There were no flowers on the bush, and there should have been. Karyn felt she was somehow responsible. Although David had never mentioned it, she was sure his first wife had been a gifted gardener. That was the trouble with marrying a widower––the departed wife was always good at everything.
As for Karyn, except for her houseplants, which enjoyed a special place in her affections, she had little interest in or aptitude for gardening. Outdoor plants, she felt, ought to be able to take care of themselves. However, David and Dr. Goetz thought getting outside and working with her hands was good for her, and she did not want to disappoint them.
While she poked idly at the damp earth, Karyn let her mind wander. There was vacation time to be worked out for Mrs. Jensen, the housekeeper, and a Parents’ Day coming up at Joey’s summer school. She smiled, pleased at the commonplace concerns that occupied her mind these days. It was a healthy sign, she thought.
Karyn did not hear the soft approach of the padded feet behind her. The first indication she was not alone was the huff of warm breath on the back of her neck. She started to rise, lost her balance, and fell awkwardly to the ground.
She looked up and saw the other face staring down into hers. Its black lips were stretched in a canine grimace, the yellowed teeth bared. She tried to squirm away, but two heavy paws pinned her as the animal dropped its weight on her chest.
In that instant, all the horror of Drago flooded back from the closed-off portion of her mind. The wolfish face with its long, cruel teeth came at her. She screamed. The weight on her chest lessened for a moment, and she rolled away, curling herself protectively into a ball. She felt the animal prod at her, trying to turn her over. She screamed again.
The back door of the house banged open and a solid woman with graying, blond hair rushed out. She ran heavily toward Karyn, still lying on the ground by the rosebushes.
“Bristol, stop that!” the woman called. “Come here, you bad boy.”
Cautiously Karyn opened her eyes. A few feet away, Mrs. Jensen stood with her hands planted on her hips. Sidling toward her, a ‘don’t-hit-me’ look in its eyes, was a coltish young German shepherd.
“Shame on you,” Mrs. Jensen scolded the dog. “Frightening people like that.” She seized him by the collar and tapped him lightly on the nose. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Richter. He’s just an overgrown puppy. He wanted to play, that’s all.”
The back door burst open again and David Richter hurried out. He was a man of forty-eight, with a strong, serious face. He wore a sweater and slacks, this being Sunday, but he never seemed really comfortable without the three-piece suit he wore daily to the brokerage.
Karyn rose unsteadily to her feet. David ran across the lawn to her side and took her arm.