by Hamill, Ike
Corinna started walking.
She spoke quietly, making a promise to herself.
“I swear if you break your word I will find a way to tear your lying tongue from your mouth.”
They walked.
Once they were through the doors, there were a half dozen times that she could have jumped him. Frank couldn’t see a thing for a while. He followed her footsteps and didn’t let on. The gun was pressed to the middle of Prince’s back. The dog didn’t seem to notice. Full of ham and walking down the still escalator towards where the boy slept, the dog seemed content. He didn’t even seem to pick up on the tension in Corinna’s stride.
Finally, when it seemed they were wading through ink, she clicked on a light on her belt. Frank followed her silhouette. The dog started to pull at the leash. Every time he did, Frank felt fresh pain in his back. More blood was oozing. He couldn’t stop to treat it. Once the boy was secured, he could patch himself up.
Corinna stopped.
“He’s in there,” she said, pointing.
Beyond the glass doors, Frank saw racks and racks of clothes with a few fishing poles and canoes scattered around for decoration. It was the kind of store that catered to people who liked to appear that they enjoyed camping. Toward the back of the place, in one of the wide aisles, Frank saw the glowing blue nylon of a tent, lit up from the inside.
“Lead the way.”
“Listen, before this turns into an even more complete shit show, you ought to think about what you’re getting into,” she said.
Frank simply stared at her and then glanced down to where the gun was pointed.
“I understand,” she said, rolling her eyes, “you’re in charge. At least you think you are until you try to deal with a four-year-old boy who is mid-tantrum. If you go in there threatening his dog, or even threatening him, all you’re going to get is a screaming, biting, clawing monster. That’s going to end up bad for one of us, and unfortunately, you’re holding a gun.”
“Open the door.”
When she did, Prince tried to bolt for the tent. Clenching his teeth against the pain, Frank jerked back on the leash. Prince let out a frustrated yelp.
Corinna yelled.
“Run! They’re coming for you.”
The tent shook with movement from inside.
“Run!”
His little voice sounded nothing but confused. “Corinna?”
Frank didn’t make any move to stop her, so she yelled again. “It’s dead here. Run and hide!”
Corinna looked at Frank like she was trying to decide if he was still dangerous or not. To answer her question, Frank jabbed the dog with the barrel of the gun and pulled on the leash again. Confused, Prince sat down.
Corinna frowned and stayed put.
The flap of the tent unzipped. His little shape cast a shadow ahead of him as he pushed it aside.
“Corinna?” the boy whispered.
“I said to run and hide,” she said. “You remember what…”
Frank shut her up with two words. “That’s enough.”
The boy walked at a slow, steady pace. His little eyes moved between Corinna, Prince, and the new man. He didn’t question. He simply walked. Frank kept his mouth shut rather than spoil his own good fortune.
Even Corinna seemed to be accepting their new fate.
The boy stopped a few paces away. He pointed at Frank’s hand.
“Let Prince go.”
At the sound of his name, the dog stood up and began wagging.
“I will,” Frank said. “But I need you to come talk to my boss.”
“Don’t point that at him.”
Frank lowered the gun. The boy seemed ready to comply.
Corinna’s foot came up quick, in a low kick that connected directly with Frank’s knuckles. His finger wasn’t on the trigger. The gun dropped from his grip as numbness shot through his hand. Grasping one hand with the other, the leash pulled from Frank’s grip as well. Her next kick caught him squarely in the groin.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
The boy ran towards the dog.
He was just close enough. Frank fell forward, grabbing the kid’s pajamas with his fingertips. The boy almost pulled free. Frank pulled him into a one-armed hug. The boy struggled and fought, but only managed to turn himself around.
…back to the left…
Corinna kicked yet again, trying to aim the blow between the dog and the kid. Frank fell backwards, away from the foot, as he reached back and to the left.
His hand found the gun.
…Men’s room, down the hall towards the escalators…
This time, Frank pressed the gun to the boy’s head. The effect was the same on Corinna. She froze.
This time, she wasn’t his problem. The dog took orders from Corinna. To the boy, he was fiercely protective. Prince had the courtesy to bark a few times before he came for Frank. By that point, Frank was already backing towards the door.
The initial bites were like a warning.
Frank felt the pain in his ankle, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the throbbing that was still burning in his back.
“Keep him back,” Frank said over the growling of the dog. “Keep him back or I shoot the boy.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Corinna said. “If you were going to shoot anyone, you would have done it already.”
She seemed to convince herself. She came forward.
Frank barely aimed before he shot.
The handgun was deafening in the underground store. The kid started shrieking, the dog cowered, and Corinna dropped to the ground. Most of the light was coming from her, so it was hard to tell for sure, but he didn’t think he had even hit the girl. The bullet had struck the floor somewhere between them.
Frank didn’t waste the moment. He backed through the doors and searched for the door to the bathroom in the dwindling light. The kid was still screaming when he found the bathroom.
CHAPTER 38: VIRGINIA
ROBBY TORE HIS EYES from the coyote-thing and looked to the window behind him. They were going to have to break it to get inside. His only hope was that they could get through the window, through the room that it looked in on, and then get the door shut before the coyote-thing got them.
At least there was only one of them. The excavator had trundled off before any more of them could use it as a stepping stone to get on the deck.
But one of them looked like enough to take them both out. The coyote-thing was perched on the railing of the deck, keeping its high ground before it decided who to eat first.
Gordie didn’t give it a chance to finalize its decision.
Robby screamed, “No, Gordie!” as the dog jumped up with snarling teeth.
The coyote-thing’s balance was compromised on the railing, so it jumped down to meet Gordie. They came together with snapping jaws, each trying to get at the other’s throat. Robby was frozen for a moment. He had a flashlight in one hand and the heavy gas can in the other. He threw the can.
The coyote-thing dodged the throw and the can skidded to a stop at the railing. Gordie got a temporary grip on the coyote-thing’s cheek when it pivoted. The advantage didn’t last long. The coyote-thing whipped its head to the side, catching Gordie’s ear and making him jerk back. All the hair on Gordie’s back was straight up. His tail was curled under himself.
Robby tried to flank.
As soon as the coyote-thing turned to Robby, Gordie came forward again. Robby attacked at the same time, bringing his leg high up before he attempted to stomp down on the coyote-thing’s back.
His blow landed as Gordie and the coyote-thing met with gnashing jaws. Robby slipped his backpack off and swung it. He hit the coyote-thing in the head. The blow only surprised the animal. It was snarling and advancing on Gordie in an instant.
The dog and the coyote-thing feinted and dodged, each trying to find somewhere to sink their teeth. Robby grabbed the fuel can again and the coyote-thing circled the other direction, wary of another throw.
Ro
bby was going to throw it, but not at the coyote-thing. The animal was too fast and the can was too heavy to throw quickly. Instead, Robby swung the can around, getting enough momentum to hurl it at the window. The glass broke and the can fell back to the deck. It was hard to tell with the growling and barking, but it sounded like precious fluid was gurgling from the can. It had suffered too much rough treatment in the past few minutes.
Robby ignored it as he pulled off his shirt. He wrapped his shirt around his hand and grabbed the biggest triangle of glass he saw.
Things were going poorly for Gordie. The coyote-thing had grabbed the side of his neck and flipped the dog to the deck. Gordie pushed with his paws as the coyote-thing tried to get his short jaws down to the dog’s trachea.
Robby ignored the glass that sliced through his shirt as he gripped it tight. The coyote-thing was so close to victory that it didn’t relinquish its bite to turn on Robby.
He dropped the flashlight to put both hands on the glass as he brought it down. The light tumbled to the deck. The beam spiraled as it fell.
The glass cut right in between the coyote-thing’s peaked shoulder blades.
The animal jerked back but didn’t howl or scream like the electrocuted one had.
Robby’s grip slipped on the bloody glass as the animal retreated a step.
The look in its strange eyes was pure murder.
When it took another step back, it began to move out of the beam of the flashlight.
Robby backed up as well, snatching the light and turning it briefly on Gordie before finding the animal in the dark.
The coyote-thing still had the glass wedged in its back.
Gordie wasn’t moving.
Robby grabbed his hind paw and dragged the dog backwards to the broken window.
Gordie moaned.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
The light seemed to keep the coyote-thing at bay. If he turned away, Robby didn’t know if he would be attacked, so he worked with one bloody hand while keeping his attention on the beast. He reached through the shattered glass and found the lock.
He raised the sash and put the flashlight in his mouth.
Grunting around the metal cylinder clamped between his teeth, Robby gathered Gordie in his arms. With the assault, the dog had somehow gained fifty pounds. Robby could barely lift him. He clutched the dog to his chest as he lifted one leg over the windowsill.
From the darkness, the coyote-thing slinked towards him for one last attack. Robby sat on the sill and kicked at the animal, delivering one good blow with the bottom of his foot to the coyote-thing’s flat face.
While it recovered, Robby slipped inside. He set Gordie down on the floor and reached through for the fuel can. It was no longer full. Setting it upright on the floor, the bleeding stopped. Robby closed the window. The sash was full of broken, jagged shards. If the coyote-thing tried to get through, it would taste the bite of the glass again.
Gordie had his head up.
Robby’s heart swelled with the sight. The gravity of the horrible situation was beginning to penetrate the adrenaline fog. Robby needed some good news. He carried the dog and the fuel can to the hall and closed the door tight. They were back on the top floor of the visitor’s center and they had traded a lot for a few gallons of fuel. Robby couldn’t open his hands all the way without the skin of his palms splitting apart and fresh blood flowing.
Gordie could barely stand. At least the dog seemed to be recovering pretty fast.
Robby hugged the fuel can to his chest and started carefully down the stairs. Gordie was slow to follow.
By the time he got to the bottom, Robby was winded.
There was still only one functioning hinge on the door to the lobby. It groaned as the door swung. Aside from that, the hall was quiet, dark, and smelled horrible. For a moment, Robby thought something had died in there. He remembered the tainted fuel. It was spread out in a huge puddle under the Hummer.
Robby held the door for Gordie and then shuffled to the Hummer. Before anything else, he helped Gordie climb inside and shut the door most of the way. If he was attacked and disabled, the dog would starve in there. That thought settled on Robby’s heart as he worked.
The battery jumpered to the fuel pump had given out. It would pop no more popcorn.
As he worked, he shut out all the sounds of the night and tried to forget about his dwindling chances of success. The coyote-things likely had a way out of the park. They would be on their way. Their intelligence was matched only by their tenacity, and both of those traits were horrifyingly developed. With his slashed hands, he reconnected the fuel pump as best he could and lugged the fuel can to the fill spout. It was getting heavier each second, even as he drained the contents into the thirsty tank.
Diesel fuel stung his wounds.
With the flashlight still in his mouth, Robby saw the eyes approaching. The animals didn’t like the smell any more than he did. The vapor of tainted fuel stung his eyes and he blinked. Another set of eyes appeared. Robby abandoned the fuel can and slipped inside the Hummer, slamming the door.
Before he allowed himself to try the key, Robby thought through all the steps. In his haste and confusion, he must have missed something. The cap was still dangling from the fill pipe. The can was still hanging from its metal spout. As far as he could remember, he had reconnected the fuel pump properly.
With a deep breath, he clicked the key and the gauges lit up. A chime warned him to fasten his seatbelt.
The fuel gauge barely rose from the peg. Maybe a couple of gallons had made it down the spout. Would that get them ten miles?
He was getting ahead of himself.
Gordie’s head swiveled as he saw the animals moving in the night. His low whine evolved into an attempt at a growl.
Robby crossed his fingers and turned the key.
The starter motor chugged.
Nothing happened.
CHAPTER 39: LONG ISLAND
THEY WERE BACK OUT on the balcony.
“That didn’t do shit. We’re not convincing him of anything,” Romie said.
“I think we need to give it more time,” Brad said.
“She’s right,” Ty said. “It was a long shot and it didn’t work. I’m going to give him some more drugs to get his heart rate down. Maybe we can keep him quiet and wait it out. Let his body and brain fight it off.”
Lisa shook her head. “I’m not sure any of this is right. Did any of you see anyone else who was acting the way Tim is acting? You met some of that man’s other disciples back in Northam, right? I only know what I saw through the binoculars, but I didn’t see anyone else who looked like they were in a coma.”
“That’s the problem,” Romie said. “Any minute, he could jump up and start trying to get us all to convert. Ty is right—put him on drugs and hope he gets better on his own.”
“We’re missing something,” Brad said. “Something obvious.”
“You want to know what we’re missing?” Romie asked. “We’re missing pragmatism. We’re missing a basic acceptance that shit doesn’t always adhere to logic. You know what he whispered to me before, back when he was awake? He whispered to me about Richie. I’ve never once mentioned that name since he killed himself.”
“Romie…” Lisa started to say.
Romie cut her off. “No, you listen to me. When we got together Thanksgiving morning to start cutting everything up and getting everything ready, Richie grabbed the biggest knife he could find and he drove that sucker right into his own guts. Before anyone could figure out what to do, he started finger painting with his own goddamn blood, right on the wall.”
In the living room, through the sliding doors, Brad saw Tim sit up on the couch.
“Romie, stop,” Brad said.
She wouldn’t stop. Her tears were flowing almost as fast as her words.
“Pam tried to get the knife away from him, but Momma just turned and walked towards the back door. I was in shock too. I watched Momma step out onto the porch and the
n, POOF! Meanwhile, Kenny and Pam finally get…”
Tim stood up. Cedric barked at him.
Ty finally saw what Brad was staring at. He lunged for the door.
Brad followed him through. Cedric looked confused. He barked again. This wasn’t a threatening bark meant to warn away an intruder. This was an excited, high-pitched bark somewhere between playful and frustrated. Murphy had her ears back and didn’t want to have any part of the tentative, wagging posture of Cedric.
“Hey, Tim, why don’t you sit back down,” Ty said.
“He wants to talk to you too,” Tim said to Ty.
When his eyes swung towards Brad, he wanted to run. There was something too familiar there.
“I understand,” Ty said. “Sit back down and I’ll get you something for your anxiety.”
“I’m not anxious at all. He wants to talk with you. He’s right in the bedroom at the end of the hall,” Tim said.
Ty’s eyes went to the door. Lisa had locked it earlier.
“Tim, that’s impossible. Have a seat.”
Romie came through the sliding door and didn’t slow.
Right behind her, Lisa appeared.
“Guys!” Lisa shouted. “Something’s wrong with Romie.”
Brad turned and almost grabbed her as Romie passed so close to him. His hand brushed her arm. Before he could grab her, she accelerated down the hall.
Tim tried to follow. Ty was fast and strong.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
Brad grabbed Lisa as Romie disappeared into the room at the end of the hall.
“What are you doing?” Lisa demanded. “We have to follow her and make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. She was talking about her family and suicide. What if she wants to hurt herself?”
“It might be too late,” Brad said.
“What are you…”
“Shhhh!” Brad said.
They listened to the sound of Romie’s voice coming through the far door. A man mumbled something in response.