It had a horrible, scratchy old voice. If you listened closely, tuning out your doubt and keeping an open mind, you could hear the dreadful voice of the night. It whispered about graves and rotting flesh and demons and ghosts and swamp monsters. It spoke of unspeakable things.
I have absolutely got to stop this, he told himself. Why do I do this to myself all the time? Jeez.
He rose slightly from the bicycle seat to gain better leverage and jammed his thin legs down hard on the pedals, determined to stay close to Roy.
His arms had broken out in gooseflesh.
7
From Ranch Road they turned onto a dirt track that was barely visible in the moonlight. Roy led the way. Over the crown of the first hill, the track became a narrow footpath. A quarter of a mile farther on, the footpath turned north, and they continued west, pushing their bicycles through coarse grass and sandy soil.
Less than a minute after they left the path, Roy’s bike light went out.
Colin stopped at once, heart leaping wildly like a startled rabbit in a cage. “Roy? Where are you? What’s wrong? What’s happened, Roy?”
Roy walked out of the darkness, into the pale fan of light that spread in front of Colin’s bicycle. “We’ve got two more hills to cross before we reach the drive-in. No sense struggling with the bikes any further than this. We’ll leave them here and pick them up on the way back.”
“What if somebody steals them?”
“Who?”
“How should I know? But what if somebody does?”
“An international ring of bicycle thieves with undercover operatives in every town?” Roy shook his head, making no effort to conceal his exasperation. “You worry about more goddamned things than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“If somebody stole them, we’d have to walk all the way home—five or six miles, maybe more.”
“For Christ’s sake, Colin, no one even knows the bikes are here! No one’s going to see them, let alone steal them.”
“Well, what if we come back and can’t find them in the dark?” Colin asked.
Roy grimaced, and he looked not just disgusted but demonic. It was a trick of light; the headlamp’s glow illuminated only the sharp edges of his features, leaving most of his face in darkness, so that he looked distorted, less than human.
“I know this place,” Roy said impatiently. “I come here all the time. Trust me. Now will you come on? We’re missing the movie.”
He turned and walked away.
Colin hesitated until he realized that if he didn’t leave the bike, Roy would leave him. He didn’t want to be alone in the middle of nowhere. He put the bike on its side and switched off the lamp.
The darkness enfolded him. He was suddenly acutely aware of a thousand eerie songs: the incessant croaking of toads. just toads? Perhaps something much more dangerous than that. The many strange voices of the night rose in a screeching chorus.
Fear washed through him like bile spreading from a pierced gut. The muscles in his throat grew tight. He had difficulty swallowing. If Roy had spoken to him, he could not have replied. In spite of the cool breeze, he began to sweat.
You’re no longer a child, he told himself. Don’t act like a baby.
He desperately wanted to bend down and switch on the bike light again, but he didn’t want Roy to discover that he was afraid of the dark. He wanted to be like Roy, and Roy wasn’t afraid of anything.
Fortunately Colin was not entirely blind. The bike light was not terribly powerful, and his eyes adapted quickly to a world without it. Milky moonlight spilled across the rolling land. He could see Roy loping swiftly up the hillside ahead.
Colin tried to move; he couldn’t. His legs seemed to weigh a thousand pounds each.
Something hissed.
Colin tilted his head. Listened.
The hissing again. Louder. Closer.
Something rustled through the grass a few inches from his foot, and Colin bolted. It might have been only a harmless toad, but it gave him the motivation he needed to get
I have absolutely got to stop this, he told himself. Why do I do this to myself all the time? Jeez.
He rose slightly from the bicycle seat to gain better leverage and jammed his thin legs down hard on the pedals, determined to stay close to Roy.
His arms had broken out in gooseflesh.
7
From Ranch Road they turned onto a dirt track that was barely visible in the moonlight. Roy led the way. Over the crown of the first hill, the track became a narrow footpath. A quarter of a mile farther on, the footpath turned north, and they continued west, pushing their bicycles through coarse grass and sandy soil.
Less than a minute after they left the path, Roy’s bike light went out.
Colin stopped at once, heart leaping wildly like a startled rabbit in a cage. “Roy? Where are you? What’s wrong? What’s happened, Roy?”
Roy walked out of the darkness, into the pale fan of light that spread in front of Colin’s bicycle. “We’ve got two more hills to cross before we reach the drive-in. No sense struggling with the bikes any further than this. We’ll leave them here and pick them up on the way back.”
“What if somebody steals them?”
“Who?”
“How should I know? But what if somebody does?”
“An international ring of bicycle thieves with undercover operatives in every town?” Roy shook his head, making no effort to conceal his exasperation. “You worry about more goddamned things than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“If somebody stole them, we’d have to walk all the way home—five or six miles, maybe more.”
“For Christ’s sake, Colin, no one even knows the bikes are here! No one’s going to see them, let alone steal them.”
“Well, what if we come back and can’t find them in the dark?” Colin asked.
Roy grimaced, and he looked not just disgusted but demonic. It was a trick of light; the headlamp’s glow illuminated only the sharp edges of his features, leaving most of his face in darkness, so that he looked distorted, less than human.
“I know this place,” Roy said impatiently. “I come here all the time. Trust me. Now will you come on? We’re missing the movie.”
He turned and walked away.
Colin hesitated until he realized that if he didn’t leave the bike, Roy would leave him. He didn’t want to be alone in the middle of nowhere. He put the bike on its side and switched off the lamp.
The darkness enfolded him. He was suddenly acutely aware of a thousand eerie songs: the incessant croaking of toads. just toads? Perhaps something much more dangerous than that. The many strange voices of the night rose in a screeching chorus.
Fear washed through him like bile spreading from a pierced gut. The muscles in his throat grew tight. He had difficulty swallowing. If Roy had spoken to him, he could not have replied. In spite of the cool breeze, he began to sweat.
You’re no longer a child, he told himself. Don’t act like a baby.
He desperately wanted to bend down and switch on the bike light again, but he didn’t want Roy to discover that he was afraid of the dark. He wanted to be like Roy, and Roy wasn’t afraid of anything.
Fortunately Colin was not entirely blind. The bike light was not terribly powerful, and his eyes adapted quickly to a world without it. Milky moonlight spilled across the rolling land. He could see Roy loping swiftly up the hillside ahead.
Colin tried to move; he couldn’t. His legs seemed to weigh a thousand pounds each.
Something hissed.
Colin tilted his head. Listened.
The hissing again. Louder. Closer.
Something rustled through the grass a few inches from his foot, and Colin bolted. It might have been only a harmless toad, but it gave him the motivation he needed to get
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