Free Dark Mountain by Richard Laymon

She hurried back to camp. Nick, in his sleeping bag near the fire, waved at her. “Right with you,” she called.
    In the darkness of her tent, she changed into the hooded warm-up suit she’d brought along for sleepwear. She put on clean wool socks, then slipped into her sneakers. She rolled her mummy bag into a loose bundle, grabbed her foam-rubber mat, and crawled outside.
    Nick watched her approach. She felt self-conscious, naked under her snug jacket and pants. He can’t tell, she thought. Besides, she was holding the bulky bag in front of herself.
    “You ought to put down a ground cloth,” he suggested.
    “Yeah. I’ll get my poncho.” She spread out the rubber mat, piled her bag on it, and walked back across the clearing. Let him look, she thought. Nothing to see. For all he knows, she could be wearing long johns under her suit. Her uneasiness, however, was mixed with a tingle of excitement at the idea that he might be watching and wondering.
    She crouched over her pack. The pants drew taut againsther rump and slipped down a bit. She felt a strip of cold above the elastic band. Nick can’t see. It’s dark.
    She took out her poncho, water bottle, and flashlight, and fastened down the cover flap for the night. Standing, she hiked up her pants. Then she returned to the fire.
    “Can you use a hand?” Nick asked.
    “That’s okay. I’ll just be a minute.” She spread her poncho over a fairly smooth patch of ground several feet away from Nick’s bag. He was wearing a T-shirt. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.
    “Just what you can see. I’m toasty warm from there down.”
    “Toasty warm?”
    “Snug as a bug in a rug.”
    “Good grief,” she muttered.
    Nick laughed.
    Knees on the poncho, Julie straightened out her rubber pad. It was just wider than her shoulders, just long enough to cushion her from head to rump. She spread her sleeping bag over it. Sitting on the puffy surface, she pulled off her shoes. She placed them near the head of the bag, propped her water bottle between them, and slipped her flashlight inside one. Then she lowered the zipper of her bag halfway. She drew back the top as far as she could and struggled to get in, rolling onto her back and drawing up her knees nearly to her chin before she could work her feet under the edge. “Graceful, huh?”
    “Yeah.”
    She used the inside tab to pull the zipper up. Then, nestled in warmth, she sighed.
    “Okay.” It was her father’s voice, a short distance away. “See you in the morning.”
    “Bright and early,” Karen answered.
    “’Night,” Benny said.
    “Go on ahead, I’ll be right with you.”
    Raising her head, Julie saw Benny turn away from the adults. They walked toward Karen’s tent, the one shewould’ve been sharing with Julie. In the darkness near its front, they embraced. They kissed. Julie turned her face away.
    “’Night,” Benny said as he walked by.
    “Yeah,” she muttered.
    “Good night,” Nick said.
    Dad came along a while later. At least he didn’t go in the tent with her. “Sleep tight, you two,” he said as he passed.
    “’Night, Dad.”
    “Good night, Mr. O’Toole.”
    “From here on, it’s Scott. Okay?”
    “Sure. Good night.”
    Soon Dad reached his tent. Julie heard his voice and Benny’s, but she couldn’t make out the words. Quiet voices also came from the tent where the twins were. They had a flashlight on, its beam making a pale disk that showed through the red wall. Julie smiled.
    “Something funny?” Nick asked.
    “I think that story really threw a scare into the twins.”
    “Yeah. They scare real easy.” He scooted down until only his head was visible. “You know what’d be neat? We oughta get up and run behind their tent.”
    “Are you kidding?”
    “It’d scare the hell out of them.”
    “Cold out there,” Julie said. She felt cozy in her sleeping bag, but the idea of rushing through the woods with Nick sent a shiver of excitement through her.
    “It’d just take a