The Howling h-1 Read online

  She knelt there for several minutes on the cold tile with her hands gripping the sides of the bowl, waiting for the spasms of her stomach to ease. The sudden sound of someone moving around in the living room brought back the fear. When the bedroom door opened and the heavy footsteps came toward her she started to scream.

  Chapter Two

  When Chris Halloran found Karyn on her knees in the bathroom she was sobbing incoherently. Finding the front door open, he had sensed something was wrong. He walked in, and that was when Karyn began to scream. Chris held her in his arms for five minutes before she could tell him what had happened. He called the police, then left a message for Roy at the Aerodyne Company in Anaheim.

  The two months that followed were a painful time for Karyn. The blow she had taken to the stomach had brought on a miscarriage, but no permanent damage. There was an infection from the bite wound on her thigh that was slow to respond to medication. The doctor advised against plastic surgery until the scar had completely healed.

  The police, using their new, more sympathetic procedures for rape victims, made that part of Karyn's ordeal as easy as they could. Her description of the rapist led them at once to Max Quist, the handyman, who had a record of assaults on women. Confronted with Karyn's positive identification, Quist pleaded guilty.

  It was psychologically that Karyn suffered most. Twice-weekly sessions with an analyst helped a little, and group sessions brought her together with other women who had been raped. Still, her recovery was painfully slow. She would wake up in the night, eyes wide and staring, and scream that someone was biting her. Of all the violations of her body, it was the horror of the teeth sinking into her flesh that she could not erase. She returned to work, but her life at home with Roy suffered. She could not feel comfortable in their love-making.

  The analyst suggested to Karyn and Roy that they go away from Los Angeles for a while. Restful, rural surroundings, he said, would be the best thing for Karyn's full recovery. The people at Karyn's hotel were understanding, giving her a six-month leave of absence. Roy worked out an arrangement with his firm, and they began taking trips out of the city to look for a place.

  A friend in the real-estate business told them about an available house in a town to the north called Drago. They drove up to see it, but Karyn was not enthusiastic. The house was weathered and weed-grown, a mile outside the town, which Karen thought looked like a cheerless cluster of wooden buildings. Roy, however, took to the place immediately. He assured Karyn that the house could be fixed up so she would love it. With some misgivings, she acquiesced.

  For the next couple of weeks Roy made the trip alone to see that work on the house was being done to his specifications. He did not want Karyn to see it, he said. She would be surprised. When it was time to move in, he left a day early to see to last-minute details. Chris Halloran volunteered to drive Karyn up to the house.

  It was a crisp November day when Chris headed north on Interstate 5 with Karyn beside him in the Camaro. In the back Lady stood with her front paws braced on the seat and her face thrust into the wind from the open window.

  They left the freeway for a two-lane blacktop road that snaked up into the Tehachapi Mountains. The outside air grew chill as they climbed.

  "Do you want me to roll up the window?" Chris asked.

  Karyn moved her head, letting the wind play with her loose blond hair. "No, it feels good. Clean."

  As they drove on the evergreen forest pushed in closer on both sides of the road.

  "How much farther is the town?" said Chris.

  "A few miles. Just over the ridge up ahead and down into the valley. Don't blink or you'll miss it."

  "I don't doubt it," Chris said. "I've lived in California all my life, and I have never heard of Drago."

  "Neither had I," Karyn said. "We were lucky to find the place. The house has been empty since the old owners died four years ago. Roy fell in love with it."

  "What about you, Karyn? How do you like the place?"

  "It's all right, I suppose."

  "You don't sound convinced."

  "I haven't seen it since Roy had it fixed up. Anyway, it is quiet and out of the way. That's what we wanted. And yet it's only a two-hour drive from Los Angeles, so Roy can commute easily."

  "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 guard rail. Below them lay a narrow valley thick with evergreens. Where the road straightened along the floor of the valley a dozen or so toylike 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 here, does it?" Karyn said.

  Chris did not answer.

  "May I have a cigarette?"

  He handed her one and lighted 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 cafe, 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 back seat 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 in 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 window sill 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 tail lights 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.

  Chapter Three

  The small living room and the open dining area were spotlessly clean and lit with colorful new lamps. A blaze crackled over logs in the stone fireplace. The dark old furniture that had come with the house had been cleaned, polished, and recovered in bright hues. The floor was freshly sanded and waxed and covered with new rugs. Vases of fresh-cut flowers were everywhere.

  Roy Beatty stood back and let Karyn survey the rooms. "Well, what do you think?"

  "Roy, it's lovely. I mean it."

  Karyn walked down the short hallway and looked into the bedroom. There was new maple furniture and a bright patchwork quilt on the double bed. Across the hall in the bathroom new wood paneling had replaced the scabrous, peeling wallboard. The fixtures were scoured, the air sweetened. Karyn came back out and walked through the dining area, running her fingers over the satiny finish of the heavy oak table. Out in the kitchen everything fairly sparkled. She came back into the living room where Roy waited, unable to conceal his pride.

  "It's not Hermosa Terrace," she said, "but cozy, don't you think?"

  "Very cozy," she agreed.

  "How about a martini to toast our new home?"

  "Lovely idea."

  Roy went into the kitchen and brought back a bowl of ice, which he set before her on a low table in front of the fireplace. The green hydrant bottle of Tanqueray and the vermouth were already there. As he stirred the cocktails in a tall pitcher Lady began to whine softly and scratch at the baseboard near the front door.

  "I think it's time she took a trip outside," Roy said. He crossed the room and held the door open. "Come on, Lady, out."

  The dog looked up at him uncertainly, then at Karyn.

  "Do you think she'll be all right?" Karyn said.

  "Sure. There's no traffic out here, and she won't go far enough from the house to get lost."

  Lady crouched lower to the floor, her eyes on Roy.

  "Come on, you, out," he said again, in a more commanding tone.

  The little dog obeyed at last, moving in a cautious sidling manner. Roy closed the door after her. He then selected two hefty logs from the pile on the hearth and laid them on the dwindling fire. They caught immediately. The flames snapped at the pockets of pitch and leaped up the chimney.

  Roy sat down again and finished stirring the martinis. He brought out two iced glasses and filled them at the low table. They touched glasses, sipped at the cocktails, and smiled at each other.

  "Did you get everything worked out at the office?" Karyn asked.

  "It's all taken care of. I've got next year's publication list to go over. When I go into town I'll bring back whatever raw copy there is for editing. There's no reason why technical manuals can't be edited up here in the woods as well as on Wilshire Boulevard. I shouldn't have to make the trip into L.A. more than a couple of times a week, if that often."

>   Karyn leaned back on the sofa. "Are you sure you don't mind being cooped up here away from the city and all our friends?"

  "Mind? What's to mind? You think I miss battling through the smog and the freeway traffic twice a day? Listen, this is as much a vacation for me as it is therapy for you."

  Karyn squeezed his hand. "You're pretty sweet, you know that?"

  "Yeah, I know, but tell me anyway."

  "What about some dinner? I'm starved."

  "Right. I'll get the steaks going while you build a salad."

  "Do we have everything we need?"

  "We should have. I stocked up this afternoon at the Safeway over in Pinyon."

  "Pinyon?"

  "That's the nearest town of any size. It's about twelve miles from here at the tip of Castaic Lake."

  "Why didn't you do the shopping in Drago?"

  "I guess you didn't get too good a look at the town. There's one general store that's about the size of the cheese section in most supermarkets. They had a few canned goods, a few boxes of cereal, a tiny meat counter, and that was it. Oh, yes, the place doubles as a post office."

  "At least we do have a post office."

  "Not exactly," Roy said with an apologetic grin. "The nearest post office is in Pinyon, but they do bring the Drago mail over once a day to the store."

  "And that's where we go to pick up our mail," Karyn said.

  "That's it. There's a funny little old lady running the place. You'll have to meet her."

  "I hope she's funnier than the sheriff."

  "You met Anton Gadak?"

  "On the way in. He didn't exactly welcome us with open arms."

  "Yeah, well, it probably takes these people a while to warm up to strangers."

  "I suppose so." Karyn leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You were saying something about steaks?"

  They ate together at the big oak dining table while shadows cast by the fire danced across the walls. After dinner they relaxed on the sofa, drinking rich burgundy out of big tulip glasses.

  "It seems like a strange little town," Karyn remarked. "What kind of a name is Drago, anyway?"