by Mel Odom
As Matt walked back to the fire line, he marveled at Ernie and Harvey. Father and son worked without looking at each other, without checking the direction, just taking one step after the next as they continued cutting on different sides of the fire line that they carved across the hillside. Despite the difference in their attitudes, despite the difference in ages, they worked in tandem, never missing a beat.
Thirty minutes into it, the low-lying smoke now so thick that Matt couldn’t see where they’d begun the fire line, Ernie signaled for a change. Matt and Angie unlimbered their chainsaws, fired them up, and headed up to take point.
Ernie stopped Matt. Smoke and sawdust stained the old man’s leathery face and left his eyes painfully bloodshot. Matt thought Ernie looked pale, but the discoloration might have been from the headlamp beam washing out his color.
“You got a compass, Matt?”
“I do.” Matt fished out the old Brunton Pocket Transit compass he’d recently picked up in a thrift store. He’d gotten it for a fraction of its true value and figured it was an investment that he could turn into cash later if he needed to. Living on the road meant having to have different kinds of liquid assets. He’d learned to buy low and sell high, usually scoping out tools and equipment because he could resell those easily. Knowing they were going into the brush, he’d taken the compass out of his duffel when he’d gotten his grandfather’s ax.
Ernie nodded. “Good compass.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ernie pointed into the darkness. “Stay headed east, southeast.”
Matt nodded because that was the direction he felt he needed to go in. They were headed deeper into the forest. Mr. Dark would be there somewhere.
“The incident commander is gonna make sure we meet up with the next fire line,” Ernie said. “They’re tracking us by GPS.”
Out in the forest, the flames suddenly caught hold of a tall dead tree and raced up to the uppermost branches. The darkness seemed to retreat around them.
“If that damn bitch gives us time.” Ernie spat, then headed to the back of the fire line to take over one of the raking jobs.
Matt focused on the forest ahead of him, catching Angie working beside him. His eyes became gunsights as he picked out the trees and brush that he’d have to cut out. He moved in, gripping the chainsaw tightly, making sure to wrap his right thumb around the grip.
That was how you knew you were working with a seasoned sawyer, if they wrapped the thumb. Guys who weren’t truly experienced at what they were doing had a tendency to rest the thumb on top of the grip, and the first time the chain bound up and the saw jerked, it would get loose, chew into a leg, or take off a foot. Matt had seen some pretty horrifying injuries over the years. Chainsaws bit deep and shredded everything they got hold of. That’s why he also knew to always hold a chainsaw with both hands.
He moved as quickly as he could, making the cuts, getting out of the way of falling timber, watching out for Angie. Mort, Stanley, and Jimmy worked behind them, dragging the stuff they cut down to one side. Matt stayed focused on the line, cutting through one section, already having the next marked in his mind.
YOU GOT 24 HRS TO GET MY MONEY, HARVEY. YOU GET YOUR OLD MAN TO PONY UP THE CASH OR I’M COMING FOR YOU.
Harvey stared at the text on his phone. It wasn’t signed, and the phone number would track back to a disposable cell phone if he went to the police.
For the last two days, Harvey had replayed those last few hands of poker over and over in his head. Somewhere in there, Bodeen had pulled a fast one. Harvey was sure of that. All that night, his luck had been up and down, a roller coaster of excitement and dread. But in the end he thought he’d gotten the rhythm of it.
He’d been so certain he was going to pull the pot, especially when he’d been holding a full house. Then the only other guy left in the game had tried to buy the pot, bumping it up forty grand out of Harvey’s reach.
Harvey hadn’t been able to let the pot go. He’d looked at Bodeen for help. The casino owner had hesitated just long enough to hook Harvey solidly. Harvey was certain of that now. Tonight he could see it as clear as day. But he hadn’t been able to see it two days ago.
When Bodeen had nodded that he would extend the credit, Harvey had smiled and called. Then his smile had disappeared as his opponent revealed an inside straight flush that had dropped an eight ball right on top of Harvey.
Just like that, he’d been forty grand in the hole, more than twice as much as he’d ever owed Bodeen before.
The last time, Harvey had gone begging for the money from his father. Ernie Lombard knew the kind of man Bodeen was. There were rumors about the men Bodeen had killed in Portland as well as back in Vegas. Ernie had paid the money, and it had almost bankrupted Lombard Lumber.
That was when Scott had started pushing the old man to cut Harvey loose, to get him away from the family business. Harvey stared at his younger brother. Scott didn’t understand that Harvey would have been glad to get shut of the lumber business, of the family, and of Ashland, Oregon. He just needed a nest egg to set himself up.
The old man hadn’t cut him loose, though. He’d just worked Harvey hard, pushing him to do more, and the old man hadn’t been shy about his disapproval.
Scott loved that.
“You taking a break?”
Dropping his phone back into his pocket, Harvey turned around to see Scott dragging brush away. Harvey held up the Gatorade bottle. “No. Hydrating.”
“You going to be much longer hydrating? There’s guys out here working.”
Harvey had to clamp down on the anger that raced through him hotter than the wildfire. “No. I’m good.” He dropped the Gatorade back into his waist pack and picked up the Pulaski. An urge to plant the ax in his brother’s skull flashed through him.
You gotta be smarter than that. A lot of things can happen tonight. Just play it right and you can get rid of that pain and get yourself that nest egg you’re looking for.
Harvey held on to that thought as he got back to work. Up against the fire like this, accidents could happen. Some of them just might need some help.
5
Matt and Angie crested a rise together. Too late, he saw the other side of the hill was worn stone. There was a lot of it out here, and it got slick when there was dew on the ground. He was using his right foot as his lead, and it shot out from under him like he’d stepped on a patch of black ice. He fell, trying to stay away from the deadly chainsaw, which he still held to maintain some kind of control over it.
“Matt!” Angie’s panicked cry rang out behind him.
Falling on his back, Matt felt the breath explode from his lungs. The chainsaw stopped only a couple of inches from his left eye and cheek. He hadn’t been using it at the time he’d fallen, but his hand reflexively gripped the trigger. The sharp chain whirred to life and it felt like the chainsaw was struggling in his grasp, trying to get to him.
The heat of the blade blew over Matt’s face and a sick feeling twisted his stomach. Since he’d climbed out of that avalanche of snow, he now healed faster and better than anyone he knew. But he didn’t know if he could heal from the chainsaw cutting into him. Even if he did, his face would never be the same again.
He took his finger from the trigger and the blade came to a sudden stop just before the teeth touched his cheek, hot enough to burn his flesh. Cautiously, shaking from the adrenaline flooding his system after the close call, Matt put the chainsaw to the side.
Angie slid to the ground beside him. Her headlamp beam probed painfully into his eyes as she grabbed his head and turned it to the side so she could check him. Then she ran her hand over his chest.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Got lucky. Didn’t see that stone till I was on top of it. Didn’t know it was slick until I was falling.” His voice sounded hoarse and scared even to him.
Harvey pounded up, breathing heavily. “Everybody okay?” He tilted his head, running his headlamp over his sis
ter, then over Matt.
“Yeah.” Angie heaved a sigh. “Barely.”
Harvey extended his hand to Matt and grimaced. “You don’t have time to lay around. Let’s get to it.”
Matt nodded and took Harvey’s hand. As he got up, Matt’s headlamp swept over the bigger man. In the glare of the white light Matt saw the lesions taking root on Harvey’s face. Shock froze Matt in place as a pustule formed on Harvey’s cheekbone, then burst and released a group of maggots that slithered across his jaw.
“You sure you’re okay, Cahill?” Harvey asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Matt took his hand back, resisting the impulse to wipe it on his pants leg. As he watched, a goiter formed under Harvey’s neck, pulsed, then split open, and centipedes poured out. Just as quickly as they were freed from the cancerous goiter, they burrowed back into Harvey’s flesh. Knobs formed at his temples, and then they irised open and pincers shoved through. In the center of the pincers, thin-lipped mouths opened and jagged tongues scented the air.
“Well, then, get a move on. We got to stay ahead of this thing.”
“Yeah. I’m on it.” Matt spared a quick glance at the rest of the crew behind him. Big Mort and Timmons appeared to be marred by the disease also, their faces crawling and rupturing as he watched. Still, they were working. Matt pulled the chainsaw’s starter cord and got the engine fired up again.
They were getting closer to Mr. Dark. Matt was sure of that. That was why whatever evil Harvey was holding on to was starting to manifest. Picking his way carefully, Matt continued cutting.
“Pull the brush farther away, Carruthers.”
Hands full of limbs, Big Mort glanced up at Angie Lombard. She stood there in front of him, face smeared with dirt and smoke, and he wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman in years. He’d hit on her a couple of times since she’d come back to Lombard Lumber, but she’d blown him off. Hadn’t even been polite about it. Just shut him down with a dismissive stare the first time, then told him she had better things to do the second time, and that he was wasting his breath.
“Pull the brush farther away.” She repeated the order like he hadn’t heard her.
Big Mort thought about telling her to kiss his ass, that he knew what he was doing, that he’d seen worse than this fire had to offer. And that he’d bedded better women than her, too.
Instead, he just nodded. “Sure.” He took a couple more steps off the fire line and heaved the brush he had hold of. By the time he finished, she was cutting again. Turned away from him like he was nothing.
Big Mort fisted his Pulaski.
Timmons stepped close enough to him to bump shoulders. “Ease off, big man. Don’t let that bitch get to you. She’ll get hers soon enough.” Timmons spoke loud enough to be heard only by Big Mort. “Just take a breath and clear your head.”
Big Mort took a breath and let it out. He watched Angie, caught her looking at the new guy. Matt. Nobody stood a chance with Angie, but if anybody could get her to look twice, it was that guy, Matt.
“Bitch thinks she’s too good for me.”
“So? We’ve had better than her.” Timmons stared coldly at Angie Lombard. “When the time comes, we’ll have her, too.”
Big Mort had met Timmons down in El Paso six years ago, hitting the same bars and whorehouses. When Big Mort had ended up getting crossways with his boss, Timmons had helped him get a job with the warehouse where Timmons worked. When Timmons had gotten crossways with a Mexican gang for using one of their prostitutes too harshly, Big Mort had backed the man up, getting them both out of town.
Women and violence were two of the things that had held them together ever since.
“You’re right, brother.” Big Mort clapped Timmons on the shoulder. “We’ll have her. And she won’t ever forget it.”
In the closet, Penny held her hands over Avery’s ears so her little brother would be shielded from the worst of the argument. She always tried to protect him.
“I’m not sleeping with my boss!” Mommy yelled. “We’re just friends! Bob gets me! He listens to me! You never listen to me anymore!”
“Sure he listens to you!” Daddy yelled back. “I remember when I used to get a blow job for listening to you, too! You give a guy a blow job every time you want to talk to him, you’ll have his attention!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I know plenty! That used to be me!”
Penny peeked through the crack of the door. Her mommy was wearing one of those pretty outfits she’d started wearing lately. She’d also lost all the weight that Daddy seemed to have gained.
Mommy was never going to be pretty, not even to Penny, because her mouth was too mean and her eyes were too close together. And because she was just mean. Penny had seen other kids’ mommies, and they weren’t as mean as her mommy. They didn’t have such growly voices. Penny had never seen any of those mommies slap or hit or throw things.
“Howard, you’re drunk!” Mommy was trying to talk reason now, but she was reaching back now, too, grabbing the poker from the fireplace. Daddy didn’t see her. Mommy’s fingers closed around the poker and lifted it while she leaned in to scream at Daddy some more.
Penny knew she should have kept her mouth shut, but she couldn’t. She knew Daddy was going to get whacked before he even saw it coming. She and Avery would be taken to the emergency room again and told to be very quiet while Mommy and Daddy talk. The whole way to the hospital room, Mommy and Daddy would try to figure out what they were going to tell the doctor.
Whatever they told, it would be a lie. It would be a lie about Daddy, or it would be a lie about Mommy. Then whoever got hurt would get fixed and they’d come home again and be quiet for a few days. Never friendly. Penny had given up hoping for friendly a long time ago. Most days she just hoped her parents didn’t kill each other. Sometimes, on television, that happened.
That was pretty horrible.
A poker would kill somebody if they got hit with it. Penny knew that. So she stuck her head out of the closet and yelled. “Daddy! Look out! She’s got the poker!”
“Shhhhhhhh!” A clown in a park ranger uniform suddenly stood beside the closet. Penny didn’t know where he’d come from or who he was. He sucked on a lollipop and grinned down at her. “Don’t interrupt. Children should be seen, not heard. And this is just starting to get good.”
“Matt.”
It took a moment for Angie’s voice to penetrate the curtain of noise created by the chainsaw. Matt glanced over at her.
She touched a forefinger to her watch. “Time’s up.”
Matt nodded and killed the chainsaw. Even after the motor had stopped throbbing and the chain had stopped spinning, his hands vibrated. He was covered in sweat. Sawdust and dirt and smoke clung to his face, making it feel thick and stiff. He brushed an arm across his forehead and felt splinters pierce his flesh.
“Are you okay?” Angie asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Because you were pushing into that brush pretty hard.”
Matt nodded but didn’t say anything. The need to find Mr. Dark was growing stronger. The longer it took to locate Mr. Dark, the worse the evil was going to be. The more dangerous Harvey Lombard, Big Mort, and Timmons were going to be.
And more people were going to die.
And for what? What was Mr. Dark up to?
Big Mort strode towards Matt. “One side, lightweight. You been holding us back. Set back and watch how a man does his job.” The big man’s face was nearly a total ruin now, but he still seemed focused on the job, hadn’t lost his humanity yet. Pulsing spider’s eggs lined the big man’s face and the side of his neck.
Big Mort wiped his face with one big gloved hand, bursting the eggs and spreading spider embryos over his flesh. The insects scrambled quickly, digging at Big Mort’s face to scoop out craters that they crawled into and stared back at Matt from.
“Move,” Big Mort growled, “before you get hurt.”
Th
e evil hadn’t yet claimed the man, but it lay there festering and growing in strength. Still, he might be able to escape it. People had in the past.
Matt glanced up at the fire lighting up the forest. The growing light of the flames—closer now than they had been—had almost made the headlamps unnecessary. The fire was getting closer, and the heat was more intense. Embers coasted down the hill like snowflakes, thankfully winking out before they touched the treetops.
“Hey.”
A hand caught Matt in the center of his chest and brought him up short. He looked down at Angie, relieved that she still looked normal. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She smiled up at him. “I just wanted to remind you to hydrate.”
He nodded and took out one of the gallon jugs of water he’d brought with him. Uncapping it, he chugged back the water, not taking as much as he wanted because he knew that would make him sick. All he was really doing was cycling water back into his system. He’d sweat this out before long, too. The trick was to try to stay ahead of total dehydration. He scanned the surrounding forest, wanting to move more quickly, searching for Mr. Dark. The clown was out there somewhere.
Angie uncapped her own jug and drank deeply. Matt reached down for one of the large rakes they were using to pull back debris to leave the earth bare.
A few feet away, Ernie had stepped off the line and was leaning against a tree.
“Daddy?” Angie’s voice was a soft cry of uncertainty. She hurried over to her father.
Ernie looked up at Angie’s approach and frowned in disapproval. His weathered features showed no sign of infections or lesions. “What’s wrong with you, girl?”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right.” Angie drew up short.
“I’m fine. You need to look after your own self.” Ernie shook his head. “I’ve been doing this since before you was born.”
“I know, Daddy.”
“The incident commander just called.” Ernie held up the handie-talkie he’d been assigned. “They got some houses up ahead they need somebody to check on. He thinks maybe some of them folks didn’t get out.” He frowned. “Stupid people, takin’ chances in a situation like this. Plumb foolishness is what it is. Wants me to cut someone loose to go have a look. Like I got people to spare. Shoulda told him he needed to choose between gettin’ this line in an’ some idiots too stupid to save themselves.” He put the handie-talkie back on his belt.