Camp Pleasant (16 page)

Authors: Richard Matheson

“I think you should prepare yourself,” he told me, “since you say you feel as you do. Ellen’s the only suspect. She had every reason to do it. No matter what you feel toward her you have to recognize the facts.”

“How do you go about preparing yourself for something like that?” I asked him.

“I … know it isn’t much consolation, but her lawyer is pretty certain there won’t be any capital punishment,” Sid told me. “I’m sure he’ll plead temporary insanity, maybe even self-defense. After all, Matt, the thing isn’t one-sided. The law recognizes mental state in a case like this; and if anyone can be defended on those grounds, it’s Ellen Nolan.”

“You’re convinced she did it then,” I said.

He didn’t answer soon enough.

“Never mind,” I said.

“Matt, you may as well face it. I don’t like to think about it any more than you do. But there’s no one else who could have done it. You know that.” He made a scoffing sound. “I came here to try and cheer you up and—” He broke off and slapped his palm a couple of times with the flashlight. “I guess I haven’t helped very much,” he said.

“I appreciate it,” I said. “I can’t help it if I—oh, I don’t know.” I stood up abruptly and slid my hands into my pockets.

“Going to bed?” he asked me.

“I suppose,” I said. “I won’t sleep though.”

“Try to get some rest,” he said. “You’ll need it. We have a rough few days ahead getting ready to clear out. Then there’ll be the trial.”

I nodded. “Goodnight, Sid.”

“Goodnight, kid,” he said. “Try to rest.”

“All right.”

I moved up the steps as he rose and walked away toward the bridge. As I entered the cabin, I heard a rustling sound to my left and, looking over, I saw the dark outline of Tony sliding under his covers. I went over to his bunk.

“You been listening?” I asked.

He must have heard the tense sound in my voice. “Uh-uh,” he said.

I blew out a long stream of jaded breath. “Tony, the camp is closing this Saturday. Will you do me a favor and tell the truth until then?”

“Closing
?” It was the first time I’d ever heard him sound shocked.

“Yes.”
“Why?”

“You know why.”

He lay there silently looking up at me. Then I heard him swallowing. “I was … listenin’,” he said.

“Thank you. Why were you?”

“I … heard ya talkin’ about the leader’s wife.”

“That’s no answer, Tony.”

“She goin’ t’stir?” he asked.

I stared down at him a moment. “Oh, go to sleep,” I said.

“Is
she?”

“What?”

“Goin’ t’stir?”

I took in a shaking breath. “Tony, I don’t
know
. Now will you shut up and get to sleep?” Even I could hear the tremor in my voice.

He didn’t say any more. I lay down on my bed fully clothed and slept about an hour later. I dreamed that Ellen and I had escaped together and were being chased through the woods. Snarling dogs kept catching up to us, and I kept kicking them aside. Ellen held on to me, crying and helpless, and we ran and ran but we never got away. Then Ellen tripped and fell into a deep hole and I grabbed for her but she fell away and I saw her face receding from me.

I woke up with a jolt and sat there, staring dumbly, hearing the birds singing in the gloom of early morning.

I had to see her.

The visiting room in the Emmetsville jail was dingy. It was bare, the floor boards naked and scratched. The walls were rough plaster and there was one high window, wire-covered, opening on a shadow-dim alley. In the center of the room was a heavy oak table with one chair on each side of it and a partition in the middle.

Ellen was on the other side of the table when I was ushered into the room. Behind Ellen, standing with her back to the door which led to the cells, stood a bulky, gray-haired matron, arms crossed, face expressionless.

I felt a sinking in my stomach when I saw the matron. I had known all the time that Ellen and I wouldn’t be alone together, yet the sight of that cheerless-looking woman made me more tense than I already was.

Behind me, the door to the station room closed as I walked to the table, hoping that the smile I gave Ellen didn’t look as strained as it felt to me. Our hands met over the partition, hers cool and strengthless.

“No more contact, please,” the matron said in a bored voice and our hands fell away hastily. Ellen’s smile faded, then was restored with a compulsive effort.

“How are you, Ellen?” I asked.

“I’m okay, Matt,” she said, “thank you.”

We stood there awkwardly a moment, looking at each other, trying to smile and not much succeeding.

Then she said, “Well….” and we both sat down together. I noticed how pale she looked, how dark the circles were around her eyes. She clasped white hands on the table top. The gray smock she wore was clean and pressed but it looked wrong and ugly on her slender body. I sat staring at her. I couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“How are things in camp?” Ellen asked.

“We’re—closing up,” I said, hesitantly. “Too many cancellations. The—parents all taking their kids home.”

“I know,” she said, looking down at her hands, “I guess you can’t blame them, really.”

“I suppose not,” I said. “But—” I stopped and drew in a fast breath. “Well, never mind about that,” I said. “Tell me how you’ve been.”

She smiled sadly. “What can I say? They’ve treated me very fairly here. And Doc has been—so wonderful. I wish someone would make him rest.”

Silence. Our eyes held and, for a moment, it didn’t seem to matter that someone strange was in the room with us. My hand twitched empathetically as I cut off the impulse to reach out for her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come before,” I said. “I wanted to.”

“I know you’ve been busy,” she said. I could hardly hear her voice.

Our eyes held again.

“It’s been awful, Ellen,” I said. “Going on with the kids. Pretending everything was the same. Eating with them, talking with them, answering their questions.”

“I know, Matt,” she said.

“Have
you been all right?” I asked.

“It’s not too bad,” she said. “I’ve more or less resigned myself to it. I’m trying to believe it’s all for the—”

“I don’t want you to believe that,” I said.

Her eyes shut and I saw her white throat move painfully.

“Thank you, Matt,” she said.

“I’m going to be with you all through it,” I told her.

She looked up, an expression of conflict on her face. “Matt, I know you mean well but—”

“Ellen,
don’t,”
I cut her off. “I’m staying with you; no matter what happens.”

The skin drew taut across her pale cheeks and, for a second, there was pain-stricken life in her eyes.

“Matt, I don’t
want
you to,” she said. “You don’t know about me. What if I did it? What if I
did
it, Matt?”

“I love you, Ellen,” I said. She started to say something but I stopped her. “Let’s not argue about that any more,” I said. “It’s established.”

There was a glistening in her eyes. “Thank you, Matt. Thank you,” she barely whispered. “I … if I could tell you what that means to me—I would. But—” She swallowed and bit her lower lip. “Matt.” It was all she could say. “
Matt
.” And I knew that, no matter what had been unsaid, the visit had served its purpose. When we were separated fifteen minutes later, there was a look of almost peace on her face.

But then the door shut her away from me and I was alone again, shapeless terror returning again like a fever which has broken for a moment, only to return again, worse than ever.

On the way back to camp, I stopped off at
The Crossroads Tavern
for a hamburger and a cup of coffee. It wasn’t dark enough yet for the table lights or the lights over the fireplace and the room was dim, the small dance floor laced with shadows.

I was drinking my coffee when I heard the screen door open and two sets of footsteps moving across the barroom into the shadowy room where I was. I looked up. At first, I didn’t recognize them. Then it hit me with a rush. The shorter of the two was Jackie.

The other was Merv Loomis.

The instant I pushed to my feet, they stopped and looked at me. As we stood staring at each other, I saw Merv say something and then the two of them turned hastily and left the room. I pushed out of the booth and started across the floor. I heard the screen door close loudly and I started running. Outside, I could hear their shoes moving rapidly down the gravel path.

“Hey, what about ya bill?” the man at the bar called as I started for the door.

I should have told him I’d be right back but I wasn’t thinking. I fumbled in my pocket, and realized that I didn’t have enough change. Jerking out my wallet, I pulled a dollar bill from it and slapped it on the bar.

“What about ya
change
?” the man called after me but I was already outside.

They were gone. I jumped down the three steps and sprinted down the path for the road. When I reached it, they weren’t in sight.

I stood there panting, looking up and down the road with confused eyes, my heart jolting heavily. They couldn’t have disappeared so quickly. I raced for the cross-roads, then reversed direction and started the other way toward the Bramblebush Restaurant and the Shady Haven Motel. As I ran along the edge of the road, looking to each side, a scene kept moving through my mind. A scene I hadn’t thought of for some time, but a scene that suddenly seemed to promise the answer I’d been looking for so desperately. Merv stumbling away from Camp Pleasant, nose bleeding, a hysterical look on his face. Merv’s voice, gasping. I could hear the words as if he were speaking them again in my mind.

He’ll pay
.

I ran a few yards past the motel before it struck me. Then I dashed back and went into the office. It was empty. I slapped down the button on the desk bell and it broke the stillness. In the back room, I heard someone groan as if getting up from a chair. There was a slap of loose slippers on the floor boards. An old man came out, adjusting spectacles over his pale blue eyes. He shuffled to the counter.

“Sign outside says no vacancies, young man,” he said. “Guess ya didn’t see it.”

“Have you a couple of men living here?” I said.

“Couple o’men?” The old man looked blank.

“One’s named Jack something or other,” I said. “The other one’s named Loomis, Merv Loomis.”

“Loomis,” said the old man, pondering, “Loomis.”

“May I see your book?”

His lips pursed. “No Loomis here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Young man, I been in the motel business since before you was born. Think I ought t’know if—”

“May I see your book?” I said.

“Already told ya,” he said. “Got no Loomis here. You try the Dan Boone Motel coupla miles west. Manager’s John Saylor, friend o’ mine. He’ll—”

“Is there anyone here named Jack then?” I insisted.

“What’s the first name?”

I gritted my teeth. “
Jack
is the first name,” I said impatiently.

Blowing out an undisguised breath of disgust, the old man reached down under the counter and came up grunting with a heavy log book.

“No Loomis here,” he said. “Told ya that already.”

I grabbed for the book but he pulled it away testily.

“Now, you look here, young man,” he started.

“Will you please look!” I begged. “This is important!”

He pressed irritated lips together, then flipped open the cover and, mumbling, looked for the current week. He adjusted his spectacles, tugged at his sleeves. I died while he perused the pages carefully, shaking his head.

“No Loomis,” he finally said.

“Is there a Jack something then?” I asked.

Lips pursed again.

“Well,” he said slowly, “there’s a … Jack Wakefield in Cabin Eight.”

“Is he alone?” I asked quickly.

“No,” he said. “No. Has a friend stayin’ with him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Name,” he mumbled. He looked carefully at the page. “Name’s … Larkin. Martin Larkin.”

“Cabin Eight,” I said, turning for the door.

“Don’t think they’re
in
,” the old man called after me.

“They’re in,” I said. The screen door slapped shut behind me and my shoes crunched over the gravel-strewn court. I stopped by the alleyway between cabins Seven and Eight and a breath of partial relief shuddered through me. I stood there a moment looking at Jackie’s tan coupe.

Then I heard a voice inside the cabin—Jackie’s. “Well, I just don’t see the point,” he said.

Silence.

“Oh, come on now,” Jackie said. “What are you worrying about? He can’t—”

“Be
quiet,”
I heard Merv’s voice break in, urgently.

“Why?”

“I thought I heard something.”

He had. I was on the porch by then, knocking on the door. There was a gasp inside. I stood there in silence, looking at the window curtain fluttering in the breeze.

“Who’s there?” I heard Jackie ask.

“Open the door,” I said.

Silence, then tentative footsteps. I heard Merv suddenly whisper, “No, don’t!” and Jackie’s answering scoff, “Oh, Merv.”

The door opened. “Well, hello there,” Jackie greeted me. “Would you like to—”

I pushed past him.

“Well,
do
come in,” he said.

Merv was standing by the bed, dressed in denims and a short-sleeve shirt. The humor was gone from his eyes; there was only dull resentment left.

“Hello, Merv,” I said.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Why did you run away?” I asked.

“That’s my affair,” he said. “I don’t see where you have the right to follow me around.”

“I thought we were friends, Merv,” I said. “Why should you run away from me?”