Colony of the Lost

by Derik Cavignano

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Murdock paced about the cramped office and ran his hands through his hair. He paused to sip his coffee, winced at its bitterness, and then resumed pacing. What the hell was happening in this town? Fifteen kids missing. Fifteen goddamned kids!

  He’d never seen anything like it in his eighteen years at the bureau. How did fifteen kids disappear in a town this small without anyone seeing or hearing anything? Even the half dozen search parties had turned up nothing. It was the strangest damned thing. The hounds seemed hot on the trail of something, but then stopped in the middle of the woods and started whimpering.

  He drummed his fingers against the desk and glanced at his watch. He was expecting a guy named Wayne Gillespi, had, in fact, been expecting him for more than twenty minutes.

  Probably just a low life looking to score a reward.

  His ex was right—he had to stop being so cynical. Maybe this guy would turn out to be kosher. Maybe he’d provide a tip that would enable them to ID the bastard.

  There was nothing worse than a psycho who preyed on children. Monsters like that didn’t deserve to live. If one of them ever laid a hand on his Nathan, he’d hunt the scumbag day and night until he found him. And when he did, the badge would come off and he’d beat the dirtbag to death. Scum like that didn’t have any rights, didn’t deserve a trial.

  He rubbed his eyes, bloodshot and itchy from lack of sleep. This was the most frustrating case he’d ever worked. The town was so small, and yet these kids were vanishing right under his nose. It didn’t bode well for his career, that was for sure. His boss was already on his ass, threatening to replace him with someone more competent.

  More competent. What a load of crap. He was good at his job, damned good. Better than anyone his superiors could get to replace him.

  He sipped his coffee, cold now, and glanced again at his watch. Thirty minutes late. Where the hell was this Wayne character? He scratched his head and wished they had more to go on. Right now all they knew was that the blood from the knife in Gallagher’s living room didn’t match Gallagher’s or the blood on the rug. Didn’t match the librarian’s either. DNA testing would probably confirm that it belonged to one of the fifteen kids, but that would take weeks to run.

  He collapsed into the desk chair. Gallagher knew something. But what? The question had nagged him for days. Was he protecting someone? Was he in on it?

  A thorough search of his house had turned up nothing, not one iota of incriminating evidence. So why had the guy gone after Gallagher? Had Gallagher seen something? Or maybe Gallagher knew the guy, but was too scared to spill his guts.

  It was something. He just wished he knew what. A wiretap might come in handy, but no judge would authorize a bug with so little evidence.

  Maybe I’ll put a watch on him, have Calhoun coordinate it when he gets back.

  One of the local cops knocked on the door. “Wayne Gillespi here to see you, sir.”

  He could see the man standing behind the local. He appeared to be thirty-five or so, balding, overweight. He wore a blue golf shirt with a US Postal Service logo embroidered above the left breast. Murdock glanced at his watch and sighed. “Send him in.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Tim turned in a slow circle, glanced left and right, but what he saw left him little hope. He had trapped himself in the town’s compost dump. Mounds of twigs and leaves rose from a vast area of trampled dirt, and green signs planted at the base of the piles indicated what could be dumped where. A chain link fence sealed off the entire area. It was at least eight feet high and topped with sharp ribbons of gleaming barbed wire.

  Tim hadn’t noticed the barbed wire when he first ran in. He had hoped to lose them among the maze of piles, sneak away into a wooded corner and hop the fence, unseen. But he had panicked. And in his panic he had missed that very important detail.

  Randy and his goons—Lenny and Brett—stormed through the gate, their heels coughing up plumes of dust. Randy drew to a halt and motioned for his goons to follow suit. They obeyed the gesture like well-trained dogs.

  Randy’s eyes blazed with the promise of violence. He looked more than mean—he looked crazy. Stark, raving mad.

  Lightning parted the sky—a forked blue tongue followed by a peal of thunder. For a moment, Randy was silhouetted against the sky, his body framed in a seemingly angelic halo. The contrast between that and his sadistic grin was hideous.

  Tim slid off his backpack and let it drop to the ground. Could he lose them among the piles, circle back to the gate somehow, and trap them inside? It didn’t seem likely, but he had to try.

  He darted down a path that wound through the compost heaps and zigzagged through mountains of decaying leaves. Randy and his goons split up, coming after him from three different directions. They cornered him a minute later, trapping him against a tower of branches.

  Wood snapped beneath his weight as he scrambled up the nearest pile. He made it less than halfway before he began sliding down, riding on an avalanche of deadfall.

  Lenny—the smaller of the two goons—snatched a hold of Tim’s pant leg and dragged him to the ground. He shoved Tim into the open, herding him to where Randy stood waiting, arms folded in smug satisfaction.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the first droplets of rain spattered the earth.

  Lenny and Brett grabbed Tim’s arms and twisted them behind his back. Randy clamped his hands on Tim’s shoulders and squeezed hard enough to make him wince.

  “Timmy, Timmy, Timmy … what am I going to do with you?” He glanced at the goons. “Do you believe this punk? He comes into my town, steals my woman ... punches me in the fucking eye.” He leaned in close to Tim. “Didn’t I tell you that Maria was mine? Did you think I wouldn’t find out that you kissed her, that you put your filthy lips on my girlfriend? I warned you, Tim. But you didn’t listen. And now you’re gonna pay.”

  And then Tim felt something cold against his wrists, heard a series of metallic clicks ... and realized he’d been handcuffed. Randy nodded to his goons, and Brett—the huge hockey player with the Mohawk—ran through the gate and disappeared around the corner.

  “Are you scared, Tim? Because you should be. You thought you could mess with me. You thought you could stand up to me and win. But guess what? You lost … and now I’m gonna kill you. What do you think about that?”

  But Tim didn’t answer.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t think of any wiseass remarks? Go on, say something funny. I dare you.”

  Don’t you think you should return the handcuffs before your mom and the dog miss them?

  But he bit his tongue. He couldn’t risk insulting Randy. Not with his hands cuffed behind his back, not with Randy and Lenny blocking the only exit.

  Rain pelted his head and slicked back his hair. “Someone’s going to see you, Randy. One of the workers here will call the police. So why don’t you let me go? You’ve had your fun. Let’s just end it, okay?”

  “No one will see anything in this rain. Whoever’s working will stay inside until it’s time to close the gate and go home.” He motioned to the corrugated metal shed in the distance. “And they won’t hear anything, either. Not with the rain pounding against the roof and all the thunder outside.” He glanced at Lenny. “Let’s take him back between those piles just to be safe.”

  Randy pushed him forward.

  A minute later, a rust-colored Chevy lurched to a halt beyond the gate.

  Tim was about to yell for help, but then Brett hopped out of the car and opened the trunk. He reached inside with his whole upper body, stooping low as if attempting to lift something heavy.

  Tim narrowed his eyes. What was he getting?

  Brett slung a dark-haired girl over his shoulder and carried her across the dump with one arm locked behind her knees. “Special delivery,” he said, and dropped her at Randy’s feet.

  Maria rolled onto her back, her lips sealed with silver duct tape. Tim started toward her, but Brett kicked him
in the stomach.

  He dropped to his knees and pitched forward into the mud. Maria wriggled over to him, her hands also cuffed behind her back. She mumbled something unintelligible and touched her forehead against his. Tim tried to speak, but all he could manage was a wheezy gasp.

  Randy and his goons howled with laughter.

  A thunderclap sent a shudder through the earth, and the rain poured down as if the sky had torn open.

  Randy elbowed Brett. “Now for some real fun.”

  Tim struggled into a sitting position and fought to catch his breath. “Leave us alone,” he gasped. “You’ll get … in trouble.”

  Randy laughed. “Why would I get into trouble? The cops will think it was that crazy kidnapper who got you. And they’ll never find out the truth. Do you know why? Because dead people don’t talk.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Let us go and I’ll tell you.”

  “I don’t think so. I like you right where you are. I told you I’d cut your tongue out if you ever talked to her again. Did you think I was kidding? And you …” He prodded Maria with a muddy foot. “You went behind my back like a filthy whore.” He ripped the tape off her lips and unzipped her pants. “You like being a whore? You wanna do other guys? Huh?” He yanked her jeans down to her ankles, exposing the sleek curve of her hips.

  Tim gaped at the sight of her bare flesh. Water beaded on her thighs and rolled like mercury across her black bikini briefs.

  “Hey Tim, wanna watch us take turns with this bitch? I bet she’ll like it. Won’t you?”

  “Get away!” she yelled, thrashing her legs.

  “She’s a feisty one,” Brett said. “You getting wet for me, honey?”

  The three of them burst out laughing.

  “Leave her alone!” Tim shouted. “You hear me?”

  Randy reached into his jacket and pulled out the biggest handgun Tim had ever seen. “You like this, Tim? It’s a .357 Magnum. One shot will tear your head off, blow your brains into a million little pieces. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna shoot you in the head. That would be too quick … and I really want to savor this.”

  “I’m sorry, Randy. Please … don’t do this.”

  “Oh, so now you show some respect? Well, it’s too late, Tim. We’re way past that now. In fact, now we’re at the part where I shove this gun up your ass and pull the trigger. I’m not sure how long you’ll live after that, but I’m hoping it’s like ten or twenty minutes, cause then I can sit back and watch you die. And while you’re dying you can watch us gangbang this cheating little bitch over here. What do you say to that?”

  “Don’t do it,” Tim said, and glanced at the two goons. “You’ve got to stop this. Please!”

  But Brett wasn’t even listening. He was too busy patting Randy on the back and laughing like a hyena. But with Lenny, it was hard to tell. A minute ago he seemed to be as excited about the prospect of a double rape homicide as any self-respecting lunatic would be. But now he appeared subdued, almost as if he’d undergone a change of heart. He stared off into the woods beyond the fence, his eyes wide, but distant.

  Randy didn’t seem to notice. He kicked Tim in the small of the back and knocked him into a puddle. Tim turned his head to the side and locked gazes with Maria. Even in the rain, he could tell that she was sobbing.

  Randy unbuckled Tim’s belt and tried to force his pants down. “Get away from me!” Tim yelled.

  Lenny placed a hand on Randy’s shoulder. “Stop.”

  Randy smacked his hand away. “What did you say?”

  Lenny’s face was expressionless. “You are not to hurt him.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because he belongs to Trell.”

  “Who the hell is Trell?”

  Tim studied Lenny’s eyes. They had a wide, vacant look, but they weren’t red. Could his theory be right?

  He crawled over to Maria. “We’ve got to get out of here. Right now.”

  A low rumbling reached his ears.

  Thunder. Just thunder.

  But it didn’t sound like thunder. It seemed to be coming from somewhere behind them, somewhere beyond the pile of branches.

  Tim positioned himself so that his back was pressed against Maria’s. “On three, try to stand.”

  Maria nodded.

  “One…”

  The rumbling sounded again. Closer this time.

  Not rumbling. Growling.

  “Two…”

  “Hand over the gun,” Lenny said. “Don’t make Trell angry.”

  “Three!”

  They got to their feet just as Randy shoved Lenny to the ground.

  Maria managed to hike up her pants before Randy turned toward them. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

  Lenny grinned up at them. “Now you’ll answer to Trell.”

  A blur of movement caught Tim’s eyes. He glanced past Randy, his eyes directed at the top of a soggy leaf pile. “Oh God,” he muttered.

  Randy leveled the gun at Tim, and Tim stepped backward … but not because of Randy. He motioned with his head. “Behind you.”

  The thing standing atop the leaf mound was a nightmare fusion of claws, scales, and teeth. Even crouched on all fours, it stood over six feet tall, its thick forepaws buried into the muck. It glared down at them, its eyes blood red and luminescent.

  Randy’s face transformed into a mask of terror. He raised the gun and squeezed off a wild shot.

  Tim and Maria raced for the gate. Behind them, twin shots pealed like cannon fire. Tim glanced over his shoulder and saw Trell stumble back, growling in pain. Then it leaped into the air and pounced on Randy, knocking him to the ground.

  Randy let out a series of bloodcurdling shrieks, and then Brett began screaming too. A few moments later, the screaming ceased, and Tim and Maria were more than halfway to the gate.

  Tim spotted his backpack on the ground near the entrance. He stooped awkwardly—still running—and snatched it up with his hands cuffed behind his back. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Trell leap off Randy’s mangled corpse and come bounding after them on all fours. Behind it, Lenny jumped up and down, shouting, “Kill them! Kill them!”

  Tim swore under his breath. I hate it when I’m right.

  Trell was fast. Scary fast.

  “To the car!” Tim yelled. “Hurry!”

  As they charged through the gate, Tim skidded to a halt and dropped his backpack. He had to close the gate behind them, had to buy enough time to allow for their escape.

  Trell was almost on top of him, twenty feet and closing.

  The gate was the kind that rolled closed on a track. Tim grabbed hold of the chain link and began to pull, but it was heavier than it looked.

  Come on, come on!

  He dug his feet into the mud. It wasn’t easy with his hands cuffed behind his back. The grip was all wrong, his footing reversed. Trell was close enough now that Tim could see into its massive jaws. Its razor sharp fangs gleamed in the rain.

  The gate began to move, rolling horizontally on the track. It gained momentum quickly and was almost fully closed when Trell leaped into the air. The beast flung itself against the gate, swiping at Tim through the gaps in the chain link. Tim jumped back and sucked in his stomach as a hooked claw sliced within an inch of his chest.

  The gate hit the rubber stopper and bounced back open. Trell retracted its claws, dropped to the ground, and bounded toward the gap.

  Tim lunged for the gate and slammed it shut. A padlock hung from a link by the post. He lifted a foot, tried to kick it toward him.

  Trell crashed against the fence, and the padlock flew into the air. Tim used all his weight to hold the gate shut.

  Behind him, the Chevy roared to life.

  “Maria!”

  She was by his side a moment later, her cuffs gone. She plucked the padlock from the ground, slipped it through the latch, and set it.

  Trell threw itse
lf against the fence and snarled in rage, the chain link ballooning outward.

  Maria grabbed his backpack and hopped into the car. “Hurry!”

  Tim darted for the passenger side and saw Trell backing away from the fence, preparing itself for a running jump.

  “Oh my God Tim, what is that?”

  “I’ll explain later.” He pulled the door shut. “Let’s go. Hurry!”

  “I ... I’ve never driven before!”

  “You’ve got about three seconds to learn.”

  Trell leaped into the air.

  “It’s gonna make it!” Tim said.

  Maria hit the gas and the car slammed into the fence.

  “Reverse! Put it in reverse!”

  The ground shuddered with the force of Trell’s landing. A surge of mud splattered the windshield.

  Maria jerked back, flicked on the wipers. And there was Trell, crouched on all fours beside the hood of the car. Maria stomped on the gas and the car shot backwards. She cut the wheel and straightened the car, slamming on the brakes so she could shift into drive.

  Trell stepped into their path, its alien eyes glaring at them through the windshield.

  “Gun it!” Tim yelled.

  Maria pinned the pedal to the floor. At first the Chevy went nowhere, its rear wheels spewing mud. And then it screamed forward and slammed into Trell with a bone-snapping crunch of metal.

  The car raced down the driveway and lurched into the street. Tim glanced out the rear window and saw Trell stagger to its feet and lumber off toward the woods. He was about to yell for Maria to hit it again, but it was too late. The compost dump loomed a hundred yards behind them.

  He glanced at Maria and saw tears coursing down her cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She drew a shuddering breath. “How can I be okay? That thing tore them apart. Right in front of our eyes.”

  Tim frowned. “I know.”

  “It was horrible. I can’t get their screams out of my head.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “But it came there to get me.”