Hollywood Gothic Read Online Free PDF

golden breasts. The shrieking stopped when the flat of his right hand connected with the side of her face. She fell forward, caught herself against the sink. She blinked at him. He realized with considerable satisfaction that she was terribly frightened. There was blood in the corner of her mouth. He felt his adrenaline rushing, his senses bared. The smell of coffee was overwhelming.
    “Don’t take it personally,” he said. “Okay?”
    It must have been the smell of the coffee that brought on the memory of that remarkable morning at Malibu. When he opened his eyes, the memory of Goldie’s terrified eyes and her cheek flaring red as she fell sideways was gone, but the smell of the strong coffee remained, assailed him, cleared his head. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to be dead. So far as he could tell at first glance, he was at the center of a semicircle of squatting fellow mortals. Small fellow mortals.
    Somewhere a disc jockey was babbling.
    A morning disc jockey. Challis recognized the voice. He squinted at the morning’s bright grayness. Clouds hung low in the valley. He was sitting in a shallow cave, a depression cupped out of the rocky hillside, and it was morning and he wasn’t quite dead. He was beginning to get the picture.
    “Bandersnatch!” cried a high, squeaky voice. “He moved … look, he moved. Ralph, come here, Bandersnatch just moved.”
    “Relax,” Challis croaked. “Don’t talk so loud, little boy.”
    A bulky figure appeared in the corner of Challis’ vision, clumped in out of the blowing cold. He was as wide as he was tall and looked to be about thirteen. He paused, looked down at the small blond boy whose piercing cry had just stopped rocketing off the stony, icy walls. “Stevie, for God’s sake, be quiet. You’ll start an avalanche. Don’t you know nothin’?”
    “No, Ralph, I don’t,” Stevie replied solemnly.
    “God, you can say that again,” Ralph muttered. He looked down at Challis. His face was swarthy, his hair thick and black, his eyes a lustrous dark brown. He wore a blue down-filled jacket which made him look like a large beach ball with arms and legs. “You awake? You feel all right?” Ralph’s eyelid jumped, a tic.
    “Coffee?” Challis tried to swallow. He didn’t understand what was going on, but coffee would probably help.
    There was a fire crackling nearby, on the ground beside it a camper’s collapsible pan with a longish handle. Ralph poured coffee powder into a tin telescoping cup, heated the snow in the pan over the fire, and made coffee. A heavy-looking backpack leaned against the wall of the cave. Ralph handed over the cup and watched while Challis sipped. Six other boys, ranging in age from maybe ten to twelve, watched quietly. One was cross-eyed; another’s mouth hung slightly ajar, a trail of saliva working its way down his chin. The tin cup was hot as hell. Challis grinned at them over the cup’s rim.
    “That’s good,” he said. “Thanks … ah, what the hell is going on? What happened to last night? Who are you guys, anyway?”
    All the faces turned toward Ralph, who was busy tearing pictures of naked girls out of a Penthouse and putting them on the fire. He scooped another hand full of snow from the cave’s lip, dropped it into the pan, swilled it around over the fire.
    “We are campers,” Ralph said, smiling faintly. He put coffee powder in another cup. The other campers were munching candy bars. Ralph reached into his backpack, withdrew a Mars bar, and handed it to Challis. “Our leader wandered away and we couldn’t find him, so now we’re on our own … it’s no big deal because Ralph Halliday is always prepared.” He brewed his own cup of coffee and sat down across from Challis. Music played on the radio, a small Sony propped against the backpack. “That’s who we are, and I know who you are.” His eyes caught Challis’ for a second, and the faint smile reappeared. His eyelid began to dance nervously. He looked