The Traveller (47 page)

I can think of nothing, she said to herself. Nothing surrounds me. She sat in the car and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate completely on the distant noises from the racetrack, letting the sounds fill her and exclude all else.

‘Hi!’

‘Hi!’

She looked up, opening her eyes quickly, and the sunlight blinded her.

‘Shall we jump in the back?’

‘If you don’t mind,’ she heard Jeffers’ voice. ‘It’s a bit cramped. Sorry.’

‘Oh, no problem. My boyfriend has a Firebird, which is pretty much the same, and I’ve spent a lot of time in the back seat…’ Both Vicki and Sandi laughed. ‘I didn’t mean it quite that way,’ said Vicki. ‘Anyway, boy, is he gonna be surprised!’

The two women squeezed in the back. They were flushed and excited, giggling and laughing, at the limit of control.

Jeffers swung into his seat. ‘I know a little park, almost a forest really, not too far from here. We’ll drive over, take a few shots in a nice, idyllic location, then Boswell and I will drop you back here, okay?’

‘Sounds great,’ said Vicki.

‘Okay by me, just as long as we’re back by six.’

‘No problem,’ said Jeffers.

The women laughed again.

Jeffers steered the car out of the raceway area.

Anne Hampton’s mind screamed at the two women: Why don’t you ask! Ask how he just happens to know of a deserted park! How does he just happen to know exactly where he’s going? He’s mapped it out before!

She said nothing.

Jeffers broke her silence. ‘Keep your notepad handy,’ he said softly to her. Her hand shot out instantly for a pad and pen. Then he raised his voice into a gregarious singsong. ‘Now I don’t want you gals to be nervous, this will be pretty tame stuff, really. But I got to ask - you’re both over eighteen, right?’

‘I’m nineteen,’ said Sandi, ‘and Vicki’s twenty.’

‘Not till next week!’

‘Hey.’ said Jeffers. ‘Well, happy birthday a week early, Let’s see if we can’t make the birthday something special to celebrate, okay?’ ‘You bet!’

Mr Corona,’ Sandi asked tentatively, ‘I don’t want to intrude or, I don’t know …’

‘Go ahead,’ said Jeffers in as good-natured a voice as possible. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Does Playboy pay for the pictures they use?’ Jeffers laughed.

Of course! You don’t think we’d put you through the drudgery of a photo session without paying, do you? A photo session is hard work. There’s make-up and posing, and high-intensity lights, and, you know, something always goes wrong. To get one picture suitable for the magazine can sometimes take hours. The usual rate, I think, at least the last time I did this, was a thousand dollars a session …’ ‘Wow! What I could do with that!’ But this is kinda informal,’ Jeffers continued. ‘I don’t think the magazine will pay more than a couple of hundred bucks for your work this afternoon.’ ‘We’re gonna get paid! Fantastic!’ The two women started talking excitedly between themselves. Anne Hampton sat blindly in front. Jeffers spoke to her quietly: ‘Boswell, please make an effort to get this down.’ His voice was like blackness crawling over her. Then, with fake cheer, he said briskly, ‘Almost there!’ He was driving into a park.

I know just the right spot,’ he said. Boy!’ gushed Vicki or Sandi from the back seat, Anne Hampton wasn’t certain which, but she got the words down anyway. ‘I can’t believe this is happening to me.’ Think of nothing, she told herself. Do exactly what you’re told. Just stay alive. ‘Here we are,’ said Jeffers. ‘Now, I know this little

spot…’

Anne Hampton saw they were entering a wooded area, staying on a small roadway that cut between the shadows

thrown by the leafy overhanging branches. There was brown National Parks Service sign which said the park was open only from dawn to dusk. She saw that they passed up a large gravel parking area, continuing on into the center of the forest. They drove what she guessed was another half mile, then turned on to a dirt secondary road which they followed for several bumpy minutes until they reached a bend where the trees dropped back sharply so that a brief space was plunged into bright sunlight. There was a single chain stretched loosely from one side of the dusty brown trail to the other and another small sign that read, authorized PERSONS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

‘Luckily,’ Jeffers said brightly, ‘I’ve got park service authorization. Most professional photographers do. Hang on, ladies, while I deal with this chain.’

Jeffers jumped from the car, leaving the two women laughing in the back seat and Anne Hampton staring out blankly at the forest colors from the front. He felt a twinge of concern. She seems to be lost, he thought. Though his back was to the car, his mind pictured her sitting there, fastened to her seat by the layered fears of knowing what was happening and being unable to say or do anything, caught by the event just as surely as if he’d tied her with rope. He wondered for an instant whether she would be able to control herself. I want her to make it to the end. I don’t want to have to leave her here with the others. He considered whether she recognized the danger she was in and thought that she must, for she seemed to have entered a detached state, like a mannequin in a store window or a marionette dancing on the end of a set of strings.

This, he realized, was exactly as it should be.

My strings, he thought. Dance, Boswell, dance. When I jerk the strands holding you, jump.

He smiled.

Keep things in order, he told himself. Boswell represents time and effort and investment.

He heard more laughter from the car.

They don’t.

The chain was just as it had been when he visited the

park a month earlier. He reached down and grasped the

links a few inches above the spot where it was fastened to

a small brown post. With his free hand he flaked wood

chips off the post. It had rotted with age. He gave the chain

a sharp tug and it came free. Then he walked the chain

across the road, clearing it out of the way. He shuffled his feet in the dusty road surface as he walked back to the car. No sense in leaving an impression of his

shoe.

‘All set,’ he said to the three in the car. ‘Just up the

road.’

He goosed the car ahead gingerly and they bumped for some two hundred yards until they pulled around a corner. Anne Hampton recognized then that they could not be seen from the main roadway.

‘All right, pile out,’ Jeffers said with a brisk enthusiasm. ‘We don’t want to take up too much time, and everybody wants to get back to see that last race, so let’s do it.’

Anne Hampton saw that he had thrown his brown photographer’s bag over his shoulder. She hesitated for an instant, watching the two young women follow Jeffers into the forest. They are blind, she thought. How can they rush after him so? Then she felt her own feet hurrying her forward, and she ran to keep up with him.

‘Boy,’ said Vicki or Sandi — she had gotten them confused ”this sure is exciting.’

‘It always is,’ replied Douglas Jeffiers. ‘In more ways than one.’ The two women giggled again.

Anne Hampton thought she would be sick if she stopped. Her breath came in short bursts and she felt her head spin. The heat rested on her body like a wool blanket, prickly, uncomfortable, and she felt dizzy. Vicki or Sandi heard her laboring and turned to her.

‘Do you smoke? No? Good. But you sound out of shape. A little walk in the woods shouldn’t get to you …’

‘I’ve been a little sick,’ Anne Hampton replied. She heard the words quiver weakly.

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You should take vitamins like I do. Every day. And regular exercise. Have you ever

tried aerobic dancing? That’s what I like to do. Or maybe do some running to build up that wind. I’d like to quit my job at the bank and get a job teaching dancing at the health club. I think that would be neat. Are you okay?’

Anne Hampton nodded. She didn’t trust her voice any further.

‘Try doing some running,’ the young woman continued. ‘Start out slowly, maybe just a mile or so a day. And then gradually build up. It’ll make the world of difference.’

Douglas Jeffers suddenly stopped.

‘So how do you like it? Pretty, huh?’

He stood under a pine tree at the edge of a small open clearing. Even Anne Hampton, in the midst of her growing terror, thought it a pretty spot. That made her feel worse.

There was a large boulder cropped up in the midst of the clearing. Sunlight spread around it, making the small patch of green grass glow. The entire area was encircled by forbidding pine trees that seemed to stand against the blue sky like so many silent sentinels. When she stepped into the clearing, Anne Hampton had the sensation of striding into a quiet room, the door closing shut behind her.

‘All right, ladies, over to the rock if you please. Boswell, next to me.’

She walked over to Jeffers’ side and they both watched the two women take up positions on the boulder. Each was affecting what she thought was the freshest come-hither appearance possible. Jeffers stepped out into the sunlight and glanced up at the high sky. ‘Bright’, he said. ‘Harmless, bright sunshiny day.’ He quickly approached the two young women and held up a light meter beside them. Anne Hampton saw him adjust his camera, then start clicking off shots. He kept up a steady, hypnotic stream of encouragement: ‘That’s it, now smile, now pout a little, now throw that head back, good, good, great. Now twist about a bit, keep moving, good again, good …’

She watched the performance before her, wondering: Where does he have the gun? Or will it be a knife? It must be in the photo bag. How is it going to happen? Quickly?

Is he going to drag it out? What is he going to do to them? He will take his time. We are alone and it is quiet and he will not be hurried. The heat from the sun caused her to grow dizzy and she feared she would faint. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. I remain me, she said to herself. I am alone and apart and I am myself and I will be strong and I will make it. Make it. Make it. Make it. She repeated this over and over, mantralike. She looked up and saw that Vicki and Sandi were trying to look seductive. ‘That’s good,’ she heard JefFers say. ‘But I think it’s a little, I don’t know, restrained, maybe …’ She saw the two women look at each other and she heard their mingled laughter. They were having a good time. She hated this. It filled her with guilt. She closed her eyes again. ‘Now, that’s better!’ she heard Jeffers exclaim. ‘Wait until those editors get a load of this!’ She opened her eyes and saw that both women had stepped out of their clothes. They seemed sleek, animal-like. They were both deeply tanned and she stared at the white skin that brought their breasts and crotches into relief. She watched as they stretched, and, within seconds, lost whatever residual modesty they might have had. They offered their breasts to the camera; they spread their legs when the lens pivoted toward them. Jeffers bounced about before them, bending and twisting, caressing them with the camera. She could hear the motordrive whirring. She thought it seemed like some hideous ballet. Jeffers maneuvered around the two women, bringing them closer, until finally they were slapped together, entwined, all legs, arms, buttocks, and breasts on the rock before him. Anne Hampton stared at their bodies, which seemed to her to be strong and full and terribly, horribly, filled with life. She could not continue to look and turned away.

“Hey, Boswell, come here!’

She hesitated one instant, then trotted to his side. She coulid see that both women were flush and excited.

“Stand there so I can get a shot of the three of you.’ She stepped between the two naked women.

‘Boy! I’ve never felt so free,’ said Vicki or Sandi. It makes me feel beautiful.’

‘It’s got me hot,’ said the other, a little under her breath. ‘I wish my boyfriend were here.’

‘I bet,’ whispered her friend, ‘that Mr Corona gets a lot of extra surprises when he takes pictures.’

Anne Hampton felt an elbow nudging her. She understood suddenly that this last statement was a question.

‘He does okay,’ she said. ‘He likes taking pictures.’

‘Fine, Boswell. Step out. Now, Vicki, just put your hand on Sandi’s breast, good, good, continue stroking it, right, and now reach down toward her thigh, good, good, that’s right, put your hand right there, perfect! Great, great. Exciting, huh?’

Anne Hampton heard both women exclaim in agreement. She stood next to Jeffers and saw that they continued to stroke each other despite the pause in the sound from the motordrive. She could see sweat glisten on their bodies and she knew they were aroused.

‘Well, he said, ‘it’ll be more exciting in just a second. Let me change film …”

She saw his hand reach down into the photo bag.

It’s now, she thought. Oh, God, it’s now.

She wanted to race away, to somehow jump high into the sky and flee like a startled bird.

She was frozen in her spot. Rigid under the sun.

Oh, God, she thought. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I were someplace else, suddenly, magically, anywhere, just not here right now, at this moment. Oh, God, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.

She saw that Jeffers had put his camera into the bag and she could see his hand on the butt of a pistol.

I wish I could do something, she thought. I’m sorry, Vicki and Sandi, whoever you are. I’m so sorry.

She shut her eyes.

She could hear the two women giggling and the sound of their bodies slapping together. She could hear a pair of birds calling out in the darkness of the forest, raucous and harsh. She could hear Douglas JefFers’ breathing beside

her. It was even, rapid, but she thought it ice cold, and she believed behind her closed eyes that she would be able to see the vapors of his breath. Then every sound seemed to fade from her and she was enveloped by silence. She awaited the first noise of confusion and panic from the two women. She wondered: Will they gasp? Scream? Cry? Time seemed empty and she waited for the first moment of recognition and terror. But it did not come. Instead she heard a distant blare. The sound seemed foreign, unconnected to the clearing. Alien. She could not at first place it. It sounded again. She opened her eyes. Jeffers stood beside her. He was listening. A moment passed.