Free The Satyr's Head: Tales of Terror by Brian Lumley, Ramsey Campbell, David A. Riley Page B

Then, conscious that he may have sounded over-eager, ‘Best water in these parts.’
    Driver was conscious of the bill-fold tightly wedged into his hip pocket. He realized that he would be lucky if he managed to get away without losing that wad of notes. It was not the possible loss of money, but of face, that worried him. He’d sound such a fool, trying to explain to a flint-eyed cop that he’d fallen victim to this red-faced clod. He couldn’t do it.
    ‘No. I’m following you,’ smiled Driver with tight lips. In a race for the car his podgy body would be no match against the rangey limbs of his companion. The game had to be played through. ‘Lead on,’ he said.
    Kez led the way to the open door.
    ‘You set yourself down in there,’ he said. ‘I’ll fetch the water from round back. The cup’s kinda cracked, but I guess you won’t mind that.’
    ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Driver.
    ‘Thought you might like to set out o’ the sun,’ said Kez.
    ‘Glad of the chance to stretch my legs,’ replied Driver.
    Kez glanced appealingly at the open door. This was not the way it should happen. Usually the meat walked meekly through the door, behind which Adam stood with axe upraised.
    Already Adam’s arms were beginning to tire. He had held the axe aloft from the minute he heard footsteps on the path. Kez went barefoot until the first snows, so the steps could only belong to a well-shod stranger. They were heavy footsteps, too—a well-fed stranger. But the footsteps had halted, and talk was going on. What cause had Kez to stop for talk when he knew Adam was waiting with axe upraised? It was a heavy axe, and Adam’s arms began to shake a little; yet he durst not lower the weapon for fear of the stranger walking in before he had time to raise it again. That might lead to a struggle, and Adam did not like struggling—last year one of the scouts had delivered a vicious kick, and Adam had limped for days. He thought obscenities at Kez, who talked and talked while the axe grew heavier.
    ‘You could set on the porch awhile,’ be heard Kez say. ‘Mighty comfortable chair for rockin’.’
    ‘I’ve been sitting for long enough,’ replied the stranger, cheerfully obstinate. ‘You live here alone?’
    ‘Jus’ me an’ the dawg,’ replied Kez, preferring that the stranger should not suspect that someone might be waiting with an axe.
    ‘Two chairs,’ pointed out the stranger.
    ‘Oh, them,’ said Kez. Then his voice brightened. ‘Sometimes I set in the one. Sometimes I set in the other. Mighty comfortable chairs. C’mon through the house.’
    ‘The spring’s round the back,’ remarked the stranger.
    ‘Sure,’ said Kez. ‘Cool, clear, spring water. The Lord provides.’
    ‘Then I’ll walk round outside,’ said the stranger. ‘Shoes are dusty. Wouldn’t want to trample dirt inside your house.’
    Adam’s muscles were screaming for respite. Soon he would either have to lower the axe or drop it. Sweat trickled into the corner of his eye.
    ‘Walk round outside,’ echoed Kez unhappily. He raised his voice, hoping that Adam would hear and deal with the change of plan. ‘To th’back. I guess the dawg’ll be waiting for us round the corner, but you’ve no cause to fear the dawg.’
    At last Adam lowered the axe. With unusual agility, considering his fifteen stone, he hurried through the shack, past the bedroom where Betsey lay, and through the back door. As he took up his position by the wall, and raised the axe again, approaching voices could already be heard.
    ‘Appreciate what you’re doing for me, neighbour,’ the stranger was saying.
    ‘The Lord provides,’ responded Kez automatically.
    Adam edged forward. One good downward blow would be sufficient, and out here there would be less mess to clear up. Then the stranger seemed to stand still again.
    Driver’s long-dormant combat instinct was stirring. Ahead lay a blind corner. Instinctively Driver wanted to take it in a wide sweep to avoid