Kaling stepped out from behind the black tree trunks and into the open.
“We have to keep moving.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you call Bill.”
Kaling was making a beeline for them with the other two close behind.
“Call him. If what you say is true, he’ll look into it,” she said. “If it’s as big a problem as you say, what are you going to do? Stop it all by yourself?”
“Okay, I’ll call.” He gave in, feeling frantic at the rapidly approaching threat. “But let’s get somewhere safe first.”
“Promise?” she asked with a mock frown.
She could have been standing in the doorway of their house with Denton about to go to work. I’ll pick up the milk on my way home. She pretends to pout, promise. Promise, he says, then kisses her goodbye in their Morse code of affection.
“Promise,” he said with his hand against his chest. “But we have to get out of here, now.”
“Okay, then. If it’ll make you feel better,” she sighed.
He took her by the arm and rushed her across the street, dodging an SUV.
“Where are we going?”
“Da Vinci’s.” The pizza parlor was just off of the Square on 9th. They’d eaten there and picked up dinner countless times. It was one of the best places for pizza and subs in town and had been their favorite since moving to Bexhill.
“Why there?”
“Brightly lit. Lots of people. And they have a payphone, so I can call Bill.”
“I have my cell.” She patted her purse and slowed down a step.
“Either way,” Denton said, getting her moving again. He didn’t dare look back. They turned down 9th Avenue. He could see the pizza joint’s archaic neon sign at the next corner. “Let’s just get there, first. We’ll be safer in there than out here.”
Storefronts rushed past them, as he accelerated to a jog. His eyes were fixed on the outline of a red arrow that flashed in a four part sequence, pointing out the door to the restaurant.
Linda hastened her stride and got beside him. “We’ve known each other a long time,” she said. “And you know I love you.” The gaps in her words weren’t just an expression of her exertion. She was hesitating, slowly bringing out her thoughts into the open. Whatever she wanted to say, it must be bad.
“Yeah.” Denton wasn’t sure he really wanted her to continue.
“I just can’t help but feel that you might be making a bigger deal out of this than it is. No, don’t interrupt. You’ve always had a way of blowing the smallest thing up into an epic disaster. Remember the mouse?”
Good grief! Is she really bringing this up now?
“This isn’t like finding a dead mouse in the garage, Linda. This is about the fate of mankind.”
“See. And didn’t you say the mouse was a sign of a major infestation.”
The exterminator found no trace of any other rodents in the house. For his time and a few precautionary traps, it cost them five hundred dollars. She had never let him live it down.
“There is no comparison.” His voice was as tight as piano wire. They might be killed by a gang of homicidal maniacs at any moment. He couldn’t believe they were having this argument.
“All I’m saying is take a breath, Dent. This probably isn’t nearly as bad as it seems.”
They were there.
“Let’s just get inside. I’ll call Bill, and then we can sit there and talk about this. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, smiling tenderly at him.
He let go of her arm and pulled the door open. The smell of the wood fired ovens and a torrent of voices drifted out to greet them, awaking memories of comfort deeply ingrained in Denton’s psyche. He could picture himself sitting down at one of the tiny Formica tables with Linda just like on any other night. Kaling and Radnor liked to keep to the shadows; they would be safe in there with the bright lights and white tile walls. He might even have the time for one last slice of Da Vinci’s pizza and the time to tell Linda all the things he never had a chance to—all those things that had been cycling through his mind, and he thought he’d never get the chance to say. There might be time for that before the police came to pick him up.
Holding the door open, he made a sweep with his hand that would have looked gallant except for the tire iron it held.
Linda smiled at his gentlemanly behavior as she stepped in.
Denton slammed the door shut behind her and slipped the steel bar between the two handles, creating a rudimentary lock.
“Denton!” she screamed. Linda rattled the door trying to force it open. For a second, the tire iron looked as if it were going to fall out of its perch, but it held.
“I’m sorry,” he said loud enough to be heard through the glass. “This is for your own safety.”
“Open this door right now,” she yelled. Faces in the restaurant turned toward them.
“Goodbye, Linda.” He could feel himself losing it as he looked at her. Her face was red and her mouth was contorted in anger. But tears welled up in his eyes. He could feel a sob forming in his chest. As much as he wanted to give up and be with her, even if it were for just a few more minutes, he couldn’t. He had to hold it together. Hold on for another hour or so and put an end to it, so she would never face the threat of this madness.
He had made a vow to himself long ago. Long before they were even married, he had sworn a silent oath that he would never let any harm come to her. It was a promise that superseded all others.
“Denton!” She hit the window with her fist.
He took his glove off and placed the palm of his hand against the spot where her fist lay. The tears began flowing fast.
“Goodbye,” he said again and his voice caught in his throat.
Her hand flattened out and pressed against his. Her eyes moistened at the sight of his pain.
“I love you,” Denton said. It wasn’t loud but the shapes his mouth formed the words clearly.
Her eyes went wide, perhaps realizing that he was leaving her, realizing she might never see him again.
“No!” she howled. Notes of anguish penetrated the glass and ran through his fingertips. Her distress may have been from her final comprehension of his motives, or it may have been from the sight of the men coming up behind him.
Rough hands grabbed Denton and pulled him away, throwing him onto the street.
Chapter 37
A Geometric Solution
DENTON LAY IN THE SLIME of ice water and slush that coated the street. His dazed eyes stared up at a giant green demon. Its skin glowed with an electric lime colored light. Its whiter than white teeth grinned, while two burning red teardrop eyes examined him.
The impact of his pelvis on the pavement had sent a shockwave through his system. The initial jolt had quickly worn off, but the pain gnawing at his hip demonstrated the limitations of the painkillers he was on.
Radnor stepped over Denton, blocking out the Green Fiend’s lurid nightclub sign. He reached for Denton with murder twisted across his grim expression, ready to finish off the job he had started in the park.
The vision impelled Denton into action. He kicked up and slammed the heel of his boot into Radnor’s crotch with enough force to fling the maniac backward. Radnor would have ended up on the ground with Denton, but he collided with another man, who caught him in his arms and held him up like a boxer on the ropes. The newcomer had long hair tied in a ponytail and a Vandyke beard. His beard was too poorly groomed for him to be a hipster. He looked more like one of those thirty-year-old slackers who worked at the hemp clothing store or U-Brew.
Strasser, Denton guessed.
Behind him, Kaling stood looking cool and aloof. The man could have been filing his nails for all the emotion he demonstrated.
Denton glanced around. The Buick was parked two storefronts down, on the other sid
e of the street. He had hoped to be able to get to the car before his enemies caught up to him. It had been the main reason he had picked DaVinci’s. But he had underestimated their speed and determination.
He scrambled onto his hands and knees and prepared to make a frantic dash toward it.
A pickup truck slammed on its brakes. Three tons of metal and plastic squealed to a stop, the grill bare inches from Denton’s head. Too numb to feel any shock from the nearly fatal impact, Denton used the bumper and the hood to claw his way back to his feet. Radnor and Strasser moved in to attack.
“What the hell is going on here?” The driver leaned out his door and yelled. It was unclear whom of the three he was addressing, but all of them froze. He was a big, bearded man, with a gentleman farmer appearance, in a plaid shirt and sport coat. It looked as if he were in his fifties and on his way to church, but it also looked as if he could till a field with nothing but a plough and his own brute strength.
Denton moved toward the pickup driver, putting the truck between him and the others.
“Get back in your car, old man,” Strasser said. “This is none of your concern.”
“Are you armed?” Denton hoped the man kept a handgun in the glove box or a shotgun on the passenger seat. “They’re trying to kill me. They’re insane.”
Radnor made a lunge for him, despite the hood of the truck separating them, but Kaling held him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t bother. Why don’t we go get some pizza instead?”
The words were delivered with Blofeldian smarm. When their meaning registered, a sword of ice penetrated Denton’s chest.
“Should I call the police, here?” the farmer said, still only half out of his truck.
“If you go in there, I’ll shove you into the fucking oven.” Denton pointed an angry finger at Kaling’s heart. The words conjured up a sketch from an old book of fairy tales he had when he was just a boy. The woodcut showed Hansel and Gretel pushing a grotesque witch into a stove. The image morphed in his mind, until it depicted him and Linda shoving a wailing Kaling into DaVinci’s brick pizza oven.
“Oh really?” Kaling said. “Do you really think you’re man enough?”
“Go ask the Moores.”
The driver of a small, rusty hatchback stuck behind the pickup leaned on his worn-out horn. It sounded like a child’s bath toy breaking under torture.
“That’s it, I’m calling the cops,” the farmer muttered getting back into his truck.
For some reason the fate of the Moores inflamed Radnor’s fury. He gritted his teeth and yanked his shoulder out of Kaling’s loose grip. He was one step away from charging around the truck to get to Denton, when it pulled away blocking his path. The hatchback followed close behind, giving Denton the time he needed to reach the Buick.
“You want me?” he yelled to them. “You can have me. But not here.”
All three of them began crossing the street, moving slowly like a single organism—a unified pack closing in on its prey.
“Where then?” Kaling smirked. He clearly found Denton’s heroics amusing.
In a clear, strong voice that seemed to fill the street Denton said, “Come get me on Mt. Nazareth.”
The smile slid off of Kaling’s face. All three men looked at one another.
“Nazareth,” Strasser repeated.
“I’m going there now. Follow me. We’ll settle this thing. We’ll settle it all for good.”
Radnor was seething. “You bastard! You won’t be satisfied until you’ve ruined everything. Stay away from there.”
“Let’s talk about this,” Kaling said, making calm-down gestures with his hands. “I’m sure we can settle it here without anyone getting hurt. Be reasonable.”
Denton paused. The worry that they expressed didn’t make sense. Why didn’t they want to go there? Could they sense that a trap waited for them there? Were they afraid of the place and the devils that lived there? But the reason didn’t matter, so long as they came.
“Come and get me.” He slipped into the car and slammed the door shut. He just got the lock on, when Radnor’s body bounced off the door. He beat his fist against the window, as Denton started the engine and drove away, spraying him with slush.
Passing DaVinci’s, Denton took his eyes off the road for one last look at Linda. A man was removing the bar from the door and opening it. His bulk blocked most of the window. All Denton could see was a glimpse of silhouetted bodies from the huddle of patrons who had gathered there waiting for release.
Just before the road crested a hill and his car would be lost from sight, Denton pulled over. He switched on his hazard lights to make sure there were no doubts about his intentions to wait for them.
Kaling and the others left there spot in the middle of the street and ran off toward the park. It didn’t take long for Kaling’s white Corolla to pull into view. There may have been a hundred similar cars in town, but the scratched up bumper from the previous night’s collision, made it unmistakable.
Denton managed to keep his lead on Kaling until they reached the highway. Once they hit the three lanes of blacktop, Kaling pressed down the accelerator and sped up beside Denton. He crossed over into Denton’s lane, leaning the little white car into the Buick, trying to force it off the road. The body panels shrieked at the impact. Denton veered onto the shoulder and then turned the wheel back and smashed the Toyota. The sedan’s mass hit the little car and sent it sailing to the other side of the road, where it hit the guardrail with a spray of sparks and swerved back and forth across the lanes in an attempt to regain control. If not for the barrier, it would have ended up in the oncoming traffic, and Denton might not have needed to go on with his plan. A fiery car wreck would have taken care of everything for him.
The rest of the trip up, Kaling kept a respectful distance. Even when they pulled off onto the smaller rural roads, he kept back at least two car lengths.
Denton slowed down as he passed the trailhead that led around the hill into the clearing. His numerous boot prints were lost in the dark shadows.
It all came down to this. A few more minutes and it would all be over one way or another. Denton’s stomach dropped down an elevator shaft, dragging his nerve endings with it. He could feel their tug against his trembling skin. He hoped his legs wouldn’t be too jellied to run.
He reached into the glove box and retrieved the flask and the waterproof lighter he had stowed away earlier. When he reached the spot where he’d first seen the deer, he slammed on the brakes and got out. He didn’t bother putting the car into park. Things like that didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was how quickly he could get out ahead of Kaling and his men.
Denton’s feet hit the ground and the Lucerne slowly continued along. He didn’t wait for it to pass him. He circled around behind it and charged up the hill. As he ran, he slipped the flask into the coat’s breast pocket. He held onto the lighter. His fingers gripped it so tightly its plastic edges bit into his flesh. He took a cold comfort in it, as if he were hanging on to some mystical charm—a talisman of power, forged in times long forgotten, hidden deep in a cavern guarded by terrible beasts, recovered in a daring quest to fulfill its prophecy to dispatch the malevolent forces besieging the land.
In the darkness, he sprinted up the hill faster than he had in broad daylight. It was as if his feet knew the terrain intimately. They missed the rocks and found purchase on the ground beneath the snow. He only once looked back to make sure the three men were following him.
They were racing up, Kaling in the lead. Radnor struggled to take up the rear. Perhaps the host of injuries he had absorbed were finally taking their toll.
Denton reached the top of the ridge and looked out at expanse before him. The snow glowed with an ethereal blue. The gray moon hung egg-like overhead.
Lunatic. The word came to him uninvited and rang against the walls of his skull. The expressio
n came from the ancient belief that the moon caused insanity. Its presence in the sky seemed fitting. Her pale eye would be the only thing to bear witness to this final act.
A shadowy eight was etched into the surface of the glade. The bottom loop was made out of a thick trench dug from repeated passes of Denton’s feet. It was a little less than ten yards across and its center was white and dull. The upper loop was smaller and the line defining it thinner. The disk was the same hue as the surrounding snow.
To the right of the numeral, the deer’s tracks formed a dotted line. A narrow trail crossed it. The track of boot prints formed a direct line from the bottom of the first circle to the trees. Just beyond it stood the shed and the path back to the road.
It had taken Denton hours and countless trips back to the car to set up the eight. He had built it after the trip to The Home Shop. He had come back with a trunk full of painter’s tarps, and a backseat full of red gas cans.
The young clerk working the register had asked him what he needed it all for. Denton had answered with some amusement, “Christmas gifts.”
There was the sound of breathing behind him. The men were catching up, gasping from the effort of the climb. Denton headed down the hill.
He flew with stumbled strides down the slope, letting his legs take wing under the momentum. When his speed hit the inertia of flat ground, he nearly fell on his face. He looked back up the hill and Kaling, Radnor, and Strasser stood there silent and still. Their eyes were lost in the eight.
How long would they stand there mesmerized? Denton hoped long enough to give him the time to get into place. But hopefully they would not be stuck like that all night.
He dashed to the first circle. His feet were creating a new line, one that would connect with his earlier path at a vertex attached to the bottom of the figure eight. Together the two lines would form an acute angle. The world was devolving into geometry: circles, lines, arcs. If he had the time to sit down, he could work out the math and maybe the answer to all this madness would come to him.
Could the solution lay with pi and the quadratic formula?
Mr. 8 Page 29