Rising Storm

the smell would make her vomit again, and struggled to her feet, sobbing.

Staggering to the bed and grabbing one of its posts, she looked around the room.

A very nice room. Wendy swayed, blinking, feeling the sweat dry off her face as she tried to make sense of what was happening. A quick glance at the floor told her the body was still there.

Hadn't there been something in her hand? She looked at her hand clasped on the carved wood. Nothing there. But there had been something. Wendy looked down at the floor, but not at the body. There was a gun. It was lying in a pool of blood going tacky. The gun had been in her hand. She looked at her hand; there was blood on her fingers. And the smell…

Wendy's knees gave way and she dropped, holding on to the bedpost for dear life. No! No matter what, she knew that she wouldn't kill anybody. Wait, she didn't even have a gun. She loved Ron Labane and everything he stood for; nothing could make her hurt him.

Wendy forced herself to take deep breaths, fighting the dizziness and the panic.

Her legs steadied and she leaned her forehead against the bedpost, trying desperately to remember what had happened. Something came to her—Joe coming out of the bathroom, lifting his hand…

I have to get out of here, she thought. I have to find Diana.

She got to the door, having trouble keeping her feet, weaving left and right as though she was drunk. Her stomach wanted to heave again, this time because her head was whirling, but she forced herself to move.

Back stairs, she thought muzzily. Too many people out front. Wait, shouldn't she tell them? Someone had been murdered after all. She stood in the hallway, feeling as though gravity wanted to pull her flat to the carpet, trying to make up her mind.

Deep inside, some instinct warned her to go, to sneak out. Good idea, she thought. She wasn't sure what was going on. She could always go to the police later, when she figured out what had happened.

Once outside, she headed in the opposite direction from Hate and Dog. She thought she'd take a shower as soon as she got back to the dorm. She always felt dirty after she threw up and… she thought she smelled blood. Wendy caught her breath in a sob. Had that really been Ron Labane? What had Joe done to her and why?

He seemed so nice, she thought plaintively.

'Hey, sleepyhead!' Diana nudged Wendy a little harder, not entirely pleased with her friend right now. 'Wake up!'

With a wrenching effort Wendy managed to say, 'Unh.' If Diana hadn't started gently slapping her face, she'd probably have dropped off again. 'Nnnno,' she murmured, raising her hands. 'Stop.'

'Listen, Sleeping Beauty, we've got an hour and a half to get you dressed and fed and onto your bus. C'mon'—she tugged on Wendy's nightgown—'sit up. That's a good girl.'

Wendy pressed her hand to her aching brow and felt her stomach clench. Oh

God, she prayed, not again. She'd thrown up three times last night. 'Oh God,'

she said out loud, her voice sounding rusty.

'What the hell happened to you last night?' Diana asked. 'I come back, you're passed out on my bed, thank you very much, your clothes are in a soaking-wet heap on the floor.' She raised her hands and did a little hootchie dance move.

'Whoo-hoo! Those intellectual discussion groups. Wild times, I'm tellin' ya!

Wild times!'

Wincing, Wendy looked at her friend through narrowed eyes. 'I have a headache,' she said pitifully.

'Thought you might.' Diana collected two tablets and a glass of water from her night table. 'I put your clothes, including your shoes'-she raised a brow—'in the dryer. What happened?'

Wendy looked at her, her mind blank for a moment, then an all-too-vivid memory crowded in. She made an involuntary sound of disgust that sent Di arching back.

'You're not going to be sick again, are you?'

Wendy shook her head, then wished she hadn't. She put one hand to her aching brow and took another sip of water. 'You were right,' she said. The story took shape as she spoke, almost as if she were channeling it. 'Those guys didn't know Ron Labane at all. They met me outside the inn and said I was too early.' She let out a soul-deep sigh. 'Let's go for a walk, they said. When we were a ways from the inn they admitted that they'd tricked me. Then they asked me if I wanted to do a threesome with them.'

'Bastards!' Di snapped. She put an understanding hand on Wendy's shoulder.

Wendy smiled sadly at her and covered her friend's hand with her own, then she went on with her lie. 'I told them they were assholes and to get lost.' Her throat grew tight and tears threatened; she fought them back, but when she continued her voice sounded strangled. 'The next thing I knew I was sitting on a park bench and I'd thrown up all over myself.' She covered her eyes, for a moment, then looked at Diana.

Her friend sat with her mouth open, an uncertain look on her face. 'Are you all right?' Di asked carefully.

Wendy nodded, looking down at her lap. 'Yeah,' she choked out. She shook her head. 'I don't think they even tried to touch me. You can tell. You know?' She looked at Di.

Diana nodded. 'Yeah. I know.' She bit her lips and said solemnly, 'Do you want to go to the police?'

Wendy gave her a deer-caught-in-the-headlights stare, then shook her head vehemently. 'Oohhh,' she groaned, clutching her temples with both hands and wincing. 'No. No time, for one thing. I've got a bus to catch. And while it was a dirty trick and they're a pair of assholes, they didn't actually hurt me. They didn't even take my wallet. I checked.' Wendy sighed, then wrinkled her nose. 'I guess I'll have to chalk it up to experience.'

Turning down the corners of her mouth, Di nodded. 'Get dressed,' she said suddenly, rising from the bed. 'We'll catch a burger at the bus station. We've

only got about an hour and ten minutes.'

They were walking to the bus station, a good half-hour walk, at Wendy's request.

She'd explained that she thought the exercise might clear her head. It did seem to be helping, though her mind was still a confused knot. 'Fuck me!' Diana suddenly exclaimed.

Wendy frowned at her. 'You're one of my best friends, Di, but frankly, you're not my type.'

Diana tossed her a disgusted look and pointed to a newspaper box standing at the corner of the building beside them. Wendy stepped closer to look at it and her breath froze in her chest.

ECOLOGY SPOKESMAN SLAIN IN

LOCAL INN

'Oh, my God,' she said. Somehow it felt like she was just finding this out.

'Are you okay?' Di asked. 'You just got really pale.'

'I'm fine,' Wendy said in a faint voice. She dug in her jeans for quarters and bought the paper. 'I just can't believe it.'

She didn't want to believe it. The memory of Ron Labane's shattered head and the smell of his blood hit her and she staggered. Di took her by the shoulders and guided her to the curb, where she made her sit down.

'If you're feeling faint you should duck your head between your legs,' Di said gently.

'I—I'm okay.' Wendy looked at her friend and smiled faintly. 'It's just… such a shock.' She took a deep breath. 'And I was there. I was right th—'

'Stop right there,' Di said firmly. 'You were not right there. You were in the neighborhood; that's not the same thing at all. What you're saying is like saying everybody in Amherst was right there, and we weren't. So if you think you could have saved him just by standing next to the inn or have known what was going to happen, you're wrong. Don't you take that on yourself.'

Wendy smiled at her; she couldn't help it. A wave of affection caused her to hug her friend in gratitude. 'Thank you,' she said. 'I needed to hear that.'

She knew in her heart that if she confessed to waking up beside his body with a gun in her hand, Diana would