Chapter 5
"Where are you going on a night like this?"
Carol did not reply, listening to the strong purr of the engine, feeling the warmth of the car heater restoring some semblance of life to her wet, chilled feet.
He laughed, "I'm not prying, just trying to make small talk."
"I don't know," Carol said.
"What?"
"I don't know where I'm going." She shrugged. "Anywhere. You name a place."
He laughed, thinking she was joking. "Running away from home, eh?"
She shrugged. "Yes."
He checked her, trying to guess her age. He pegged her as a teen-ager; then he said, "What's the matter, did your folks get upset when you and your boy friend came in late?"
"My folks are dead," she said.
He winced. "Oh, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she said. "What difference does it make to you?"
"Oh, come on now! You don't have to be so cold just because you let me pick you up on a night that wasn't fit out for your worst enemy. And your folks being dead does matter to me. As a matter-of-fact, I'm a very sentimental type. I don't look it, but I get home to see my folks every weekend. I'm very close to them. I really feel sorry for anyone who doesn't have well what I have with them."
"Don't worry about it."
He drove a moment in silence, trying to figure her out. Then he smiled. "You're determined you won't be friendly, aren't you?"
"I thought you were the city bus," she told him. "On the bus, you don't have to be friendly. You pay your fare, and that's it."
He laughed. "You are in a hellish mood." He sighed, looking at her. "Maybe you really are running away from home."
"That's nothing to you, either."
"I know. On the bus, you pay your fare. No questions asked."
"That's right."
He was silent a moment and then he said, "No.
I won't do it."
She turned her head, looking at him coldly. "You won't do what?"
He smiled. "I won't take your dislike as anything personal. You got problems, you got a hate, you don't feel good, it doesn't have to be directed against me. You see, I have to think positive. I can't ever see dislike as something directed toward me. If I did, I wouldn't last five minutes in my racket.
"I'm a salesman. Drug products. I make a good living. A doggone good living. But part of my living comes from liking people, and getting them to like me. My name is Brad Livingston. I got. to walk in a new place and give them the smile and my name as if I've got a lot to offer them.
"Now sometimes when I come in, I walk into grouchy moods, a man after he's had a fight with his wife, when his car has broken down, when he's been cheated, defrauded, done dirt in some way. He doesn't feel good. I can see the hatred in him, but the minute I let it touch me, I'm dead. He will dislike me if I let him. He's in a bad mood, and he's looking for an object for his dislike. I can be it, simply by recognizing his dislike and accepting it. No matter how many times I came in to see him after that, I'd be the guy he didn't like, even when he'd forgotten the cause of it. When he'd forgotten everything else, he'd still remember I was the guy he had disliked that morning. But I can't have that. I got products this man needs. I can do him favors, but only if he-likes me, if he-likes to see me coming."
"You've got everything figured out nice and neat, haven't you?" she said.
He smiled, and she hated him because it was such a nice, friendly smile. She kept lookmg for the ravening animal behind it.
"You got to have everything figured out in this life, honey. Oh, pardon me. Miss Honey. Now, I can't keep calling you that, can I? I know about the fare and the bus, and you don't have to tell anybody your name. But I told you mine-what's yours?"
His smile was kindly and contagious, and although he could not elicit a smile in response, she did say, "Carol Hill."
"Carol. That's a pretty name. It's one of my favorites."
"I bet you say that to all names."
"Sure, I do. Don't you? Why can't each new name be your favorite? It's sure-likely to be the favorite of the people who own it, and they like to think it's your favorite, too. And it doesn't cost you a dime."
"Stop lecturing me on how to win friends and influence the suckers."
"What would it take to brighten you up, Carol? You don't really have to be so sour, do you?"
"I don't have to," she said. "But I am."
"You want to tell me about it?"
"No."
They drove some moments in silence. Carol sank deeper into the seat, overcome with fatigue and made drowsy by the warmth of the car heater.
She felt the car slowing and she looked up, puzzled. She saw they had entered the downtown area, the lights of buildings and streets glowing oddly green and purple in the rain. The whole world had a strange unreality.
"Where would you like me to drop you?" Brad said.
"What?"
He glanced at her, frowning. "Are you all right, Carol?"
"Yes. I'm all right. I don't care where you let me out. Anywhere."
"Anywhere? On a night like this? You must have some destination in mind."
"I told you I didn't. Just stop the car and let me out. I'll be all right."
"Sure you will. But I'd like to see you get some place where you'd be in out of this rain only, unfortunately, I can't spend too much time seeing to it, Carol, because I'm on my way to Bluetown."
"Bluetown?"
"Yes. I'm driving through. I have calls to make there tomorrow. I told you, I'm a salesman."
"Bluetown," she said. "That's where I'm going."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, come on now!"
"I am going to Bluetown," she said. "You can let me out anywhere I can catch a bus, but that's where I'm going."
He shook his head. "When did you decide on Bluetown?"
She shivered. "What difference does that make?" He sighed. "None to me. Okay, Bluetown it is. It's your ticket."
There was warmth and silence in the car, and twice
Carol almost fell asleep before they got out of the city and onto the turnpike.
As they came off the ramp to the express highway, Carol saw the sign. Bluetown, 200 miles. She shuddered, thinking she was taking the first step to completely erase her old life and everything it had been up to now. A new town. A new job. A new life. And never trust a man as long as she lived, never feel pity for him.
Brad said, teasing, "I suppose you knew it was two hundred miles to Bluetown."
"I didn't care."
"Look, if you're in some kind of trouble, why don't you tell me about it?"
"I'm not in any kind of trouble. I just want to go to Bluetown."
Brad shrugged. "So be it. I just better tell you, I am planning to stop at a motel about sixty miles up the road for the night. Then I'll get up about six and drive the rest of the way. That gets me into Bluetown just about the time the buyers are arriving at their stores."
"All right."
He smiled. "You still want to ride with me?"
"You can put me out anytime."
"This is just a little too much coincidence, that I'd be driving along on a rainy night like this and find a girl standing on a local bus corner who's on her way to Bluetown."
"Does it worry you?"
"Nothing worries me, Carol. I'm healthy, twenty-six, and I can take care of myself. But I'll tell you the truth. I am a little concerned about you."
"Why?"
"Oh, it's part of the fare. You are a pretty young girl I figure somewhere under twenty, but you look ill, your eyes look strange. And you're pale."
"I'm just tired. I'll be all right when I get to Blue-town."
"You look beat, all right. Why don't you curl up and take a nap? By the way, you got money for a motel room?"
"Yes. Stop worrying about me."
He smiled. "Okay. Go to sleep."
Carol turned away from him and put her head down on the seat rest. She closed her eyes, but found herself going tense. She held her breath as if waiting for this man to reach for her in the car. He had delayed for some time-what, was he waiting for? Sooner or later the pass would come, why not now and get it over with? Was there any reason to think this man was any better than Mort or Herb just because he had an easy way of talking, a lopsided, kindly smile?
She felt her eyes brim with tears, stinging them. Men! How she hated them. They all had Herb Dearing's face the face of evil. She pressed her fist over her mouth, suddenly afraid she would cry out.
She knew she could not go on sitting like this, staring at her blurred reflection in the rain-swept window. She would be crying hysterically. She was afraid to cry. If she started crying she would not be able to stop.
She held her breath, refusing to think about anything, herself, Herb, Laura, Laura's new baby, her lost job, her life that ended in that town back there tonight.
When she finally got her tears under control, she turned, sitting up straight, her back rigid, her eyes fixed on the road ahead through the small cleared space made by the windshield wipers.
She heard Brad's warm laugh. "Well, that was a short nap, all right."
"I couldn't sleep," she said curtly.
"Don't worry about it. We'll soon be at the Beauty Sleep Motel. I always stop there. They have the most comfortable beds of any motel around here. You'll rest then. And tomorrow you'll feel better-unless you want to tell me what's troubling you now."
"I've nothing to tell."
Brad got out of the car at the office of the Beauty Sleep Motel. Carol saw that it was a beautiful place; at any other time she might have worked up some interest. Now she did not care: the whole world was dark and ugly for her.
The rain had let up and there was only a gray drizzle blown in on a chilled wind.
She watched Brad register inside the smartly furnished office. The proprietor seemed to know him and welcomed him warmly. She stared at Brad's tall, lean form, his wide shoulders.
Her mouth twisted. She wondered if he were going to register her in a separate room. She even prepared herself for his returning to say the place was sold out except for one room which they'd have to share.
She convinced herself this was what Brad would say, and she sat coldly, waiting to hear it. When he came out, he tossed a key in her lap. "You're next door to me. Okay?"
Carol nodded, thinking that Brad was a little more subtle than Mort or Herb, though not much. He would install her in the room next to his but how long before he came to call in the night?
He drove back along the line of parked cars. She saw that the motel was crowded and that they were fortunate to get two rooms at this hour.
He parked the car, then took her bag, led her across the narrow stoop, unlocked her door, pushed it open. He stepped inside and placed her bag on the rack.
She walked into the room, finding it nicely furnished, smartly decorated.
Brad went over to the bed, punched the mattress with his splayed fingers. "Plenty of give," he said. "Very comfortable. Most motels use solid wood for mattresses. I know. I'm in a different one almost every night."
"It's fine," Carol said. She remained rooted in the middle of the room, her arms at her sides.
Brad looked at her oddly. "You better get out of those wet things."
Now, she thought, here it comes. Here was the second man who'd force her to undress for him. Strip, Herb had said. I want to look at you naked. Oh, Brad was more subtle. Get out of those wet things. It meant the same, didn't it? It meant undress, strip down, let me have your naked body.
She saw the faint frown between his brows, saw the way he let his gaze touch at her face, the rise of her breasts, and down along the smooth lines of her body. Here it comes, she thought. "Are you all right, Carol?"
"Yes," she said. She hoped that this one would reach for her, demand her body, so she could repay him for all the wrongs Mort and Herb had inflicted upon her helpless flesh. There was no reason to be afraid to hit back at him Her mother needed Mort's rent money. Herb was Laura's husband, but she didn't know this man. and she didn't care what happened to him. Just touch me, she thought, go ahead, just touch me, "You look a little under the weather," Brad was saying. "I'm not supposed to prescribe my own drugs, but I could get you a sedative if you'd like."
She shook her head, seeing the way his eyes probed her. Sure, he wanted her to think he was troubled about her, but she knew what he was really thinking how much easier she would be with a sedative in her! "No. I'm all right."
He sighed, turning toward the door. "I got news for you, Carol. You sure don't look all right." He stepped out, then paused. "If you need anything, just call."
"I know," she said coldly. "You're right next door."
He frowned, staring at her, and then shrugged. "I hope you get to sleep all right." He was gone, the door closed.
Carol went across to the door and locked it. When she turned around she caught a glimpse of herself in the wide, full-length mirror.
She gasped. She saw what Brad meant. She did look terrible! She was bedraggled, her hair plastered down along her cheeks, her dress wet, her shoes soggy. But it was the empty staring in her eyes that made her shudder, and it must have been this that Brad noticed. Her eyes were bleak and dark in her gray, rigid cheeks.
Shivering, she turned away. She undressed hurriedly. She went into the bathroom, turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it. She stood nude under it for a long time, until she felt some semblance of life, and reason for living, returning to her.
She went into the other room, donned a gown and got in under the covers. The bed was comfortable. She prayed silently that she would get to sleep.
But then she thought about Brad in that next room. When would he come knocking at her door, suggesting a sedative, wondering if she was all right, anything to get inside this room with her and in this bed with her?
She sighed, remembering the frightening picture of herself she'd seen reflected in that mirror. A handsome, charming young man like Brad wouldn't get excited over a drowning rat even a female drowning rat.
She relaxed slightly on the comfortable bed, thinking that perhaps she might get to sleep, after all. She told herself that Brad wouldn't come near her she had looked awful, not inviting.
She closed her eyes, but when she did the evil memories of Herb erupted behind her lids, white-hot and sickening. She lay there sobbing into her pillow, thinking about Laura and the new baby, and her own life that Herb had smashed, and then her body was shaken violently in reaction to all Herb had done to her. At first she had been too enraged, too numbed with shock to feel anything, and then she'd been wet, running, frightened. But now in this warm bed it all flooded back through her and she chewed on her fist to keep from crying out.
She did not know how long she lay there, miserable, in agony; but at last, overcome with exhaustion, she fell asleep, hating Herb, wanting to be avenged on him for what he had done to her, hating all men, and vowing to repay them all for the terrible wrongs .jhe had suffered.
In her sleep, she saw Mort chasing after her. Only sometimes it was Herb, and then it was all men. Mort had despoiled her when she was a child, and Herb had broken her heart and smashed her life. She couldn't find Mort, and Herb was Laura's husband, but somehow they must both be made to pay.
In her sleep her mouth pulled into a bitter, vengeful smile. Her life would begin anew in Bluetown for the gentle, frightened Carol Hill was as dead as the life Herb had destroyed back there in Heaven Heights.
God help the man who touched her after tonight.
She would make them pay. All of them. No matter what they looked like, or sounded like, to her they would be Herb and Mort and they would pay for the evils Herb and Mort had done to her.
God help them all.