Chapter 12

Suzanne was in the rear of the van with the man named Harry. The one called Louis drove. There was a mattress on the floor of the, van, and the two of them were on it. Harry had given Suzanne his jacket, not so much to cover her nakedness as to slow her shivering. "Ah, tell me again what this dude wants you for?" "He-he's insane. He had me tied up, c-c-chained to the floor in a little building back there. He wouldn't turn off the air conditioner."

"Are you on something, chick?"

"O-on something?"

"Speed? Acid? You on dope?"

Suzanne shuddered. "N-no, but I think he was."

"Who's he - and you've still not told me how you got there in the first place."

"His name's Walter. Walter Craft. He manages the building I live in. He c-came in my apartment while I was taking a bath and put something over my face. Chloroform or something."

"And then?"

"And then I w-woke up chained to the floor."

"He try to ball you?"

Suzanne looked blank.

"Did he try to, uh, fuck you?"

"He did f-fuck me. Arid he made me... he made me..."

"Okay. Take it easy. It's done with now. We'll take care of you." Harry leaned forward. "Hey, Louis. Take us to the house. We gotta get this chick something to calm her down."

Louis said nothing. He swung the van abruptly around a corner, narrowly missing a big Lincoln, and headed north, toward Hollywood.

Harry put a comforting arm around Suzanne's shoulders. "Ease off, lady. You're all right now. We're going to put you up at our place for tonight. Then we'll see about getting this dude off your back."

Suzanne considered the past luck she'd had with people who wanted to "help" her and felt a moment's panic. But then she reconsidered. What could be done to her that hadn't already been done? And there was something about these two that she trusted. She couldn't explain why, but it was so.

Gratefully, she nodded and sank back against the strong arm around her. In less than a minute, the lull of the motor, the darkness in the truck, and her own emotional exhaustion caught up with her and she fell fast asleep.

Louis bored through the night, still silent, and brought the van into San Fernando Valley. He drove along the Hollywood Freeway to Sherman Way and took the off ramp there. He followed the street to Fulton Avenue, turned right and drove a few blocks farther north. He eased the vehicle into an almost hidden drive that led to a small house tucked between a printing plant and an auto salvage yard. He cut the engine and lights. "What now, Harry?"

"We get her inside and let her sleep it off."

"What's with her? You think she's telling the truth? I mean, we really couldn't stand a bust just now. Maybe she's a narc. They got lady narcs."

"You're too suspicious, Louis. Yeah, I believe her. Look. She's got bruises on her wrists and ankles, and more on her neck. And she wasn't faking the bit about being scared. Man, she was afraid for her life."

"Yeah, well I don't like it, anyway."

"Okay, that's cool. Then you take her and turn her out on the street."

Louis sat a moment, staring out the windshield. Then he sighed and crawled back into the van's interior. "Okay. Let's get her inside."

When Suzanne woke again, she was on a mattress on the floor of a room with peeling wallpaper. There was a moth-eaten army blanket over her. Two other people were on the mattress with her. She stirred cautiously and looked. One was Harry, the blond man from the van. The other was a girl, younger than Suzanne and also a redhead. Both were sleeping deeply.

Suzanne crawled gently out of the blanket and got up. She was hungry and had to go to the bathroom, but her curiosity got the best of the moment. She started looking around the house.

There were only four rooms. She and Harry and the girl were in what was meant to be a living room. It was furnished with apple crates and wire-spool tables. There were many books stacked along the walls. Psychedelic posters adorned the walls.

There was a kitchen with few dishes. Bare but clean. An ancient refrigerator complained steadily in one corner and Suzanne made for it. Frozen pizza. A pot of very old stew. Some unidentifiable goop in a bowl. And a half-full bottle of orange juice. Suzanne poured herself a coffee cup full and continued.

A bedroom. A man - presumably Louis-asleep on a bed made of a mattress supported on a door raised by four cinderblocks. An apple crate for a nightstand, containing a lamp, a copy of Playboy, and what looked like a water pipe.

Finally, the bathroom. Suzanne finished her orange juice and went to the toilet. Afterwards, she found soap and a washrag and washed her face and arms. She looked at the bloodstained tee shirt she still wore and stripped it off. She washed her whole body. She would have liked a shower, but was afraid the noise would wake the others. She finished and turned to look for a towel, then gasped, "Oh!"

The young girl stood in the doorway, smiling. "Sorry if I scared you," she said. "You've got a nice body. I was digging watching you stretch." She came in and matter of factly sat on the toilet. "My name's Seal. Actually, it's Cecilia but nobody's called me that since I was a kid. What's yours?"

"S-Suzanne."

"Are you balling Harry?"

"N-no. I... they brought me here last night."

"Oh. I didn't know. You were in bed when I got home."

Suzanne nodded. "Yes, I seem to remember being carried in."

There was a gruff noise at the door. "F-Christ's sake. You broads going to squat there all day?"

Seal grinned at Suzanne and flushed the John. "Come on in, grouch."

Suzanne made an abortive attempt to cover herself, realized it would be ridiculous, and stood still as the door opened and Louis came in. His eyes were half shut and there was a surly expression on his face. His cock was stiff as a brick. He ignored the women and flipped up the toilet seat to piss.

"Don't mind him," Seal said laughingly. "He's always gruesome until he's pissed and had a Coke. He lives on Coke. The only known Coca-Cola addict in the universe."

Louis finished pissing, glared at the women, and left.

Seal turned to Suzanne. "You up to going to the grocery with me? Got to get some eats or neither of the boys will be fit for anything."

Suzanne, somewhat overwhelmed by the pace of events, nodded. "S-sure."

"Good. Get your clothes on. The store's only two blocks. And there's this really cute boy that works there."

Suzanne shook her head. "I-I don't h-have any clothes."

Seal stopped in the act of going out the door. She frowned. Then she visibly played back the whole thing; the conversation, the night before, and the possibilities. She glanced at Suzanne's tee shirt, noted the brown stain. Then she smiled. "Okay. I got some stuff laying around that we can make do with. You can tell me about it after breakfast. Everything's easier after you eat or fuck."

Suzanne felt a wave of relief pass over her. However odd these people's lifestyle was', they were good people. Thankfully she followed Seal into the front room and tried on various odd clothes until she was fitted out in jeans a size too large and a pullover a size too tight. Then the two women went out into the sunshine and headed for the store, Seal chattering merrily all the way.

When they returned, arms full of groceries, Harry was awake. He was sitting cross-legged on the large wire-spool table in the front room, rolling a joint. "Morning, lady," he said. "How do you feel?"

Suzanne smiled-the first real smile she could remember since having come to L.A. "Great. Just great."

"Good-o. You look good in Jennifer's pants. And you should always not wear a bra."

Suzanne blushed slightly. "Thank you."

Seal dumped her groceries in the kitchen and sang back. "He says that to all the girls with beautiful tits."

Harry laughed. "That's why I married you, Seal. For your tits."

Suzanne smiled again. Seal had petite breasts and could almost pass for a boy.

"That's all right, Harry. I just married you for your cock."

Louis came in and reached for the joint Harry had finished rolling. "Don't you two ever think about anything but fucking? I'm hungry. When's breakfast." He lit the joint, took a deep draw and passed it to Suzanne. "They don't get enough at home, they got to bring over strange stuff all the time. When they're not balling, they're out looking for somebody to ball."

Suzanne shook her head and refused the joint. She knew it was marijuana, but that didn't bother her. She simply didn't smoke-anything.

Louis shrugged and wandered out into the kitchen, scratching absently at his crotch through his jeans.

Harry patted the wire-stool next to him. "Come sit. Tell me about it."

Suzanne sat beside him and began to tell her story, haltingly at first, with many gentle encouragements from Harry. During the telling, Seal and Louis brought in eggs and bacon and milk. But as they listened, gradually the eating subsided and the food grew cold, untouched.

Suzanne spoke with effort, dragging each thing out, afraid to seem insane or silly. But as the obvious sympathy of the hippies surrounded her, she felt herself letting go, felt all the pent-up need to speak to someone burst the dam of her natural reticence. She spoke faster and faster, her stutter disappearing after the first few words.

She told them everything. About her Uncle Tom, her trip to L.A., the strange, sinister apartment. She told them about Dr. Roger Watlington and her experiences in the dark room. She spoke of Flo's bruises and Phyllis's quiet air of passive submission. She poke of the twisted little lawyer, Tom Baumler. And finally, she told of Walter Craft, with his burned-out eyes and his dead soul. Of his obvious madness, and of his probable addiction. She told of her kidnapping and subsequent debasement. Of her desperate and - because of Harry - successful escape. When she was done, they all sat in silence and stared at nothing for a long time.

Suzanne spoke again, nervously unable to stop. "I-I hope you don't think I'm making all t-this up."

Louis shook his head. "Nope. Not even a speed freak could come up with anything like that."

Seal said, "It's so weird it could only happen in real life."

Mutually, they looked at Harry. He continued to brood, then shook his head. "Well, they sound like a real zoo, all right. And they definitely shouldn't be left to run around loose. But I don't see what we can do about it."

Suzanne said, "Well, I do. I'm going straight to the police. There's certainly ample proof. They couldn't tear that hideous room down in one day. And there's the house that I was kept in. I think I could find it again."

The three people looked everywhere but at Suzanne, and none spoke. Suzanne frowned. "What's wrong? Is there something wrong with that?"

Harry said, "I'm afraid so." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It would be, ah, very unwise for us to get mixed up with the police, Suzanne."

"Why? I don't understand. Are you in trouble?"

"We would be, if you went to the fuzz."

"Why?"

Louis pointed to another table in the corner. "See that?"

"Yes?"

"What do you see?"

"A few paper bags, a set of scales, and some Saran wrap. What of it?"

Harry explained. "The paper bags contain keys. Kilos of grass-marijuana. We're dealers. We make our living buying grass and selling it."

Suzanne thought on it a minute. "Well, I don't have to involve you at all."

"No good," Seal said. "You'd have to account for last night. And if your story sounded fishy, the fuzz would probably discount the rest of it, too."

Suzanne thought a minute longer. "All right. I'll think of something else." She gestured at the now-cold breakfast. "Meanwhile, why don't we make some more food and eat?"

"Shit," said Louis. "I'd damn near forgotten!"

They ate a good meal. Afterwards, Harry and Suzanne did the dishes. Suzanne said, as she was drying the last plate, "I wish there were some way I could thank you for helping me. You've been so kind."

Harry smiled and started to speak, but Seal popped in the door and asked. "Hey, Suzy. Did those creeps turn you off to sex, or just to getting beat up?"

Harry glowered. "Good lord, Seal. That's a dumb thing to say."

"No," Suzanne answered. "It's all right." She smiled at Seal. "They didn't, uh, turn me off. In fact, I think I liked the sex parts."

"Well," Seal said mischievously, "if you want to thank him, why don't you ball him? He's the second best lay in town."

Harry looked outraged. "Seal-"

Suzanne lifted an eyebrow. "Who's first?"

"I don't know. I've not found him yet. But I keep looking. It keeps Harry on his toes."

They all laughed. Seal flitted away and Suzanne turned to Harry. "Would you like to?"

Harry's look was answer enough. But there was a hint of worry in his eyes. "You sure it won't freak you out? I mean, I wouldn't want to be... like them, in your eyes."

For answer, Suzanne took his hands. "Your place or mine?"

They went into Louis' room and made slow, passionate love. And Seal was right: Harry was very good. Gentle where it counted, forceful where that counted.

Right in the middle of it all, Suzanne figured out what she was going to do about Craft and the people in the dark room.