Free Flesh by Richard Laymon Page A

you like a human being, but he’s not here, so forget that shit. What is it with you, huh? I’m curious. Either you’re totally deranged, which I doubt, or this whole obsession with blood and guts is some kind of game. If it’s a game, it’s something you should have outgrown at least five years ago.”
    During her outburst, Roland had taken his elbows off the table and pressed himself into his chair. He looked stunned. His tiny eyes were wide open, his jaw hanging down.
    “Do you know why you’re this way?” Dana continued. “Well, I’ve got an idea on that subject. It boils down to this—you’re scared.”
    Roland glanced over his shoulder, apparently to see who might be within earshot. Nobody was at the nearby tables.
    “You’re scared that nobody will know you exist if you don’t go around acting like a weirdo. This way, people notice you. They don’t like what they notice, but they do notice you. That’s number one. Number two is, you latched onto this blood and guts crap because it makes a joke out of what scares you more than anything—death. You make a mockery out of pain and death to keep it from being real, because the real thing has you terrified.”
    Dana stopped. She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms beneath her breasts, and glared at him.
    “You’re crazy,” he muttered.
    “People were really truly killed out at that restaurant lastnight,” she said, forcing herself to speak in a calm voice. “It was real—if what you told me is true.”
    “Yeah, it—”
    “Real, Roland. Not one of those splatter movies you love so dearly. And it’s got you scared pissless, so you have to defend your fragile psyche by trivializing it.”
    “You’re a regular Sigmund Freud.”
    “The truth is, you probably drove out there in the full expectation that you’d be turned away by the cops. You knew you wouldn’t get to see the bodies or the brains sticking to the walls. The only reason you went out there was so you could brag about it. If you make it part of your weird-guy act and it gets you attention, it isn’t so real anymore, isn’t so scary.”
    “That’s not true.”
    “You creep, you’re scared of your own shadow.”
    “I am not. I wanted to see the bodies. It’s not my fault the—”
    “A coward, Roland. You’re a coward.”
    “I would’ve gone in if—”
    “Sure. If the cops hadn’t shooed you off. I’ll bet. As a matter of fact, I will bet. A hundred bucks. Imagine the neat T-shirts and masks you could buy with a hundred bucks.”
    A corner of Roland’s mouth curled up. “You’re betting me a hundred dollars I won’t go inside the restaurant?”
    “I sure am.”
    “You’re nuts.”
    “Have you got a hundred to put against mine?”
    Roland hesitated.
    “Didn’t think so.”
    “That’s a pile of money.”
    “I’ve got a deal for you. If you lose, you don’t have to pay me a cent. But you drop this gore crap. You stop wearing those stupid T-shirts and start acting like a human.”
    He frowned. “I don’t know. That’s—”
    “Trying to worm out?”
    “No.”
    “How about it?”
    “All I have to do, to win, is go inside the restaurant?”
    “At night,” Dana added.
    “No sweat.”
    “You go in tonight, and you stay all night. Alone.” His smiled started to slip.
    “As for my Polaroid, you may take it along.”
    “How are you going to know if I stay all night? I mean, I could sneak out. Not that I would, but—”
    “I’ll be right outside in my car. And who knows, maybe I’ll come in to check on you from time to time just to make sure you’re still there.”
    “You’ve got a deal.”
    “I’ll pick you up at nine behind your dorm.”

C HAPTER E IGHT
    “So maybe I was wrong,” Helen said.
    “Huh?” Alison asked.
    “You haven’t given King Lear a glance in the past half hour, just been staring at the phone.”
    “I thought he might call,” she said.
    “So did I. Maybe we misjudged him. I figured he’d make a grand play for