by Derek Landy
Her fingers turned to claws once again, and her claws scraped deep, bloodless furrows through his hands, but he didn’t once flinch. His expression didn’t change. He wasn’t even doing her the courtesy of looking angry.
The overhead lights flickered suddenly to life, casting their harsh glare over Glen’s pale skin, his sunken cheekbones, his dead eyes. The sight of him in the light was as shocking to Amber as the sight of him in the dark. Elsewhere, a heavy door was unlocked with a click. She heard voices, getting closer.
Glen released her and immediately Amber pulled her arms in, curling them into her chest to ease the pain. Glen took one step back and turned to smoke, and the smoke whirled and fled upwards to the air vent. Not one wisp was left when the new prisoners were escorted in.
Amber remembered herself just in time, and reverted a heartbeat before they came into view.
The guy was in his early twenties. Square-jawed and good-looking, African-American with a tight haircut, he was placed in the cell opposite Milo’s by the same cop who had come in to remove Daggett’s body. The cop was big, with a few extra pounds that threatened the integrity of his uniform, but looked strong. Healthy.
The girl was a striking redhead with sharp cheekbones and tattoos on her bare arms. She looked nineteen or twenty, and she was slim, her chest small, but those arms were toned, like she spent a good portion of her spare time lifting weights or punching bags. From the way she carried herself, Amber figured it was probably the latter. She looked like a fighter, albeit a relaxed, friendly one, as she walked into the cell opposite. The cop who locked the door was a woman in her thirties, her blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun.
Amber glanced at Milo, but he was already returning to his bunk.
“Do we get a phone call?” the guy asked.
“It’s late,” the female cop replied. “Everyone’s asleep. The Chief’ll talk to you in the morning.”
The cops walked out, and the guy sat down, but the redhead stayed standing. She smiled at Amber.
“Howdy,” she said.
“Hi,” Amber responded.
“Nice town.”
“It isn’t ours. What are, um, what are you in for?”
The redhead laughed. “Aw, man, I wanted to say that. How many times in your life do you get the chance to say something like that?”
“Judging by how unlucky we’ve been with the law lately,” said her friend, “you’ll probably get another chance to say it before too long.”
The redhead moved to the bars, put her hands through, resting her elbows on the horizontal slat. “We’re here because we were involved in an activity that could have been misconstrued as destruction of public property,” she explained. “What about you?”
“I’m not really sure,” said Amber. “I think we just annoyed the wrong people.”
The redhead glanced at Milo, then back to Amber. “You two together?”
“He’s my uncle,” Amber said, a little too quickly.
“Hey,” said the redhead, “I’m not judging. My name’s Kelly. My friend here is Ronnie.”
“I’m Amber. This is Milo.”
“Very pleased to meet you both,” said Kelly. She had a beautiful smile. “How long you been in town?”
“A few days,” Amber replied. “Just passing through.”
“Yeah?” said Kelly. “You just stumbled across the place? That’s funny. We actually intended to come here, and we had the maps and we had the GPS, but we must have driven around this part of the state for two, three hours before we found the road that led us here. It’s almost as if the town doesn’t want to be found. But you two just stumbled across it, huh?”
Amber hesitated. “Yep.”
“Well, isn’t that something?” Kelly said, in a tone that teased.
“What, um, what brought you here, then?” Amber asked.
The lights went out and they were plunged into darkness.
“Oooh,” said Kelly. “Cosy.”
Amber shifted at once, relaxing into it. Her eyes were sharper like this, and she could pick out Kelly’s outline in the gloom. She backed up to her bunk and sat so that her own silhouette wouldn’t give her away.
“Sorry?” Kelly said from the darkness. “What was your question?”
“What brings you here?” Amber asked.
“Business, of a sort,” said Kelly. “We’d heard about Desolation Hill for years, or at least heard whispers about it, so we could hardly pass up the opportunity to come here and see it for ourselves. Kind of an odd town, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do,” said Amber. “I’m not the biggest fan of its police force, though.”
“Me neither. I find they tend to arrest the wrong people.”
“I’ve found that, too.”
“Where you from, Amber?”
“Florida.”
“Wow. You’re a long way from Disney World. I’m from California myself. Venice Beach. You ever been?”
“Can’t say that I have. Are you enjoying the cold?”
Kelly laughed. “No,” she said. “I was born for the sun, honestly. Alaska is beautiful, and I appreciate beautiful things, but I’m a girl who needs a lot of heat, you know what I’m saying?”
“And yet here you are,” said Amber.
“Here we are …”
“You have any more friends?” Amber asked.
Kelly’s tone changed slightly. “That’s a peculiar question.”
“Is it? Oh, I’m sorry.” Amber ran her tongue over her sharp teeth. “It’s just that I met someone this afternoon who wasn’t very nice to me. I was wondering if you knew him. Phil Daggett?”
“Not a friend of ours,” said Kelly. “What did he do that wasn’t so nice?”
Amber shrugged to the darkness. “He had some pretty demeaning things to say about women.”
“Well, there you go,” said Kelly. “I wouldn’t hang out with anyone like that. I only hang out with cool people. You a cool person, Amber?”
Amber bared her fangs. “Sometimes.”
“You sound like a cool person. I can tell. I’m very in tune with coolness.”
“I saw your tattoos.”
“I have more,” said Kelly. “I’ll show them to you later, if you like. You have any?”
“No,” said Amber. “My parents never approved.”
“Squares.”
Amber’s smile widened. “Yeah. Squares. Do your parents approve of yours?”
“Don’t have any,” Kelly said. “Parents, that is. They died when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry,” said Amber, when really she meant I’m jealous.
“It’s cool,” Kelly said. “What are your folks like? Apart from square.”
Amber thought about this. After a while, she said, “They’re perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I hate them.”
Kelly laughed because she thought it was a joke. Amber didn’t laugh because she didn’t know if that was actually the truth.
“Might I suggest we all stop sharing private information and go to sleep?” Milo said from his bunk.
“What’s wrong?” said Kelly, amused. “You don’t trust me with your personal details?”
“Not at all,” said Milo. “But in a modern, high-tech facility such as this one, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that every word spoken in these cells was recorded and listened to by the fine law enforcement officers who keep this town safe from the likes of us.”
“Huh,” said Kelly. “I guess you have a point. What do you think, Ronnie? Think these walls have ears? Ronnie?” Amber watched Kelly’s shape move to the bars separating her from her friend. “Oh, for God’s sake, he’s asleep already.”
“That’s my cue,” said Milo, and turned over in his bunk.
Amber watched Kelly stand there and sigh. She muttered something to herself and went to her bunk. The moment she sat, her outline was swallowed by the gloom, and Amber listened to her take off her boots and lie down.
“Goodnight,” Kelly said.
No one answered except Amber. “Night.”
THE SUN WAS PALE and weak and it was a cold morning. They had the heater on in Virgil’s Sienna as they sat there, staking out Oscar Moreno’s house and trying to look inconspicuous.
“Are we doing it right?” Javier asked.
“Of course we’re doing it right,” said Virgil. “This is the only way to do it.”
“We could be hiding.”
“This is hiding.”
Javier made a show of looking around at the residential street they were parked on. “I don’t feel very hidden.”
“We’re hiding in plain sight.”
“Or just hiding in sight, really. We should be in a different car, at least.”
“This is the only car I have.”
“It’s a minivan,” Javier said. “It can fit eight. How many people were you expecting to carry when you bought it? We are two old men sitting in a car designed for eight with the engine running. I think we stand out.”
“We do not. And we need the engine running to get the heater going.”
“We don’t even know if he’s home. Should we knock?”
“That doesn’t sound very stealthy.”
“But at least we’d know.”
Movement caught Virgil’s eye. A heavyset woman, walking their way. She hadn’t seen them yet. “Oh hell.”
Javier stiffened. “What? Did he see us? Where is he?”
“Not him,” said Virgil. “Her. Duck down. Quickly!”
He tried to squirm lower, but his seat belt was on and his hips were old. Beside him, Javier wriggled in place, then tried leaning forward and sideways a little. It wasn’t working, and their movements had attracted her attention so Virgil straightened up.
“Act cool,” he said.
“I am cool,” Javier replied, wheezing from all the effort.
Virgil lowered the window.
“Mr Abernathy!” said Martha Galloway. “Good morning! I was just about to call by your place and check up on you!”
Virgil gave her a tight smile. “How good of you. It’s really not necessary, though.”
“Nonsense, nonsense!” she said, waving her hand. “Checking up on the elderly in the community is a privilege, not a burden. Oh! And you have a friend!” She leaned in to smile at Javier. “And what’s your name?”
Javier did nothing but scowl at her.
“Mrs Galloway, this is Javier,” said Virgil. “He’s a friend from back west.”
“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Javier!” said Mrs Galloway, sticking in her arm in a bid to shake his hand. Virgil pressed himself back into the seat to avoid contact with her blouse. The smell of wildflowers and fruit filled his nostrils.
Javier, meanwhile, was glaring at the proffered hand, and keeping his own appendages to himself.
“I get it, I get it,” Mrs Galloway said, retracting her arm and chuckling. “I’m the same way! I carry hand cleanser in my purse, wherever I go. Never know what kind of germs you might be picking up, am I right? Heaven knows, a common cold could kill someone of your age.”
Javier opened his mouth to snap off what would no doubt be a hurtful retort, but Virgil got there first.
“Javier’s thinking of investing in some property in the area,” he said. “We were driving around and this house leaped out as something he might be interested in buying.”
Mrs Galloway frowned slightly. “This house? Is it for sale?”
“Well, no, but for the right price it could be.”
“I doubt it. Mr Moreno owns the hardware store, on Appletree Street? I doubt he’d want to move.”
“Well, maybe we’ll ask him,” said Virgil. “Though we’d appreciate it if you kept this between ourselves.”
“Oh, of course,” said Mrs Galloway, putting on her serious face. It vanished a moment later, replaced by a smile. “So what are your plans for Wednesday, Mr Abernathy?”
“Going to stay with my daughter,” Virgil said.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! And can I just say that I really admire your determination to remain independent when so many other elderly people just choose to wilt and die in old folks’ homes. You are a hero to me, Mr Abernathy, you truly are. I hope that when I am your age, if I’m lucky enough to reach it, I am capable of showing the same moral fortitude as you. I’m fed up to the back teeth of lazy people who live in old folks’ homes and do nothing but drain our great country’s resources and leech from the system.”
“I live in a retirement home,” said Javier.
“How wonderful for you!” Mrs Galloway trilled. “And do they treat you nicely there?”
“Nicer than out here, you miserable hag.”
Mrs Galloway’s face went slack, and Virgil winced at her apologetically and raised the window.
“I don’t like being patronised,” said Javier. “You have to deal with that kind of crap often?”
“Sometimes,” said Virgil.
“Naw, I couldn’t handle that,” said Javier. “At least everyone in the retirement home knows the score.”
“Is she still standing there?”
“Yep. Standing right beside your window.”
“Christ’s sake …”
“She’s no longer looking in, though.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“She’s walking away.”
Virgil watched her. A part of him wanted to reprimand Javier for the rudeness, but then he figured he didn’t care.
“Hey,” said Javier in a hushed voice, his eyes widening.
Oscar Moreno came out of his house, wearing a sweater vest and offering a big smile to a passing neighbour.
Javier stared at him. “It’s me. Holy shit, it’s me. You seeing this? That is me.”
“Told you,” said Virgil.
They watched him get in his car.
“But that doesn’t just look like me,” Javier said, “it is me. That’s me travelling in from the past!”
“I know. Duck down.”
They tried ducking but, much like the first time, all they could manage was to lean sideways slightly.
“Quick!” said Javier. “Follow him!”
“Why? It’s Tuesday morning. He’s probably just going to work.”
“Oh yeah.”
They waited until he was gone, and sat up.
“Jesus,” said Javier. “Now what? I mean … okay, I believe you, he’s my exact double. But now what do we do?”
“I have no idea,” said Virgil.
“You don’t know? You’re the one talking about murder mysteries and conspiracies and solving this crime and all that stuff … and you don’t know what to do?”
“This is new to me,” Virgil said defensively. “It’s taking some time to adjust to all of this going on. But I’m getting there.”
“How many cops are on the force? Surely they can’t all be in on it.”
“But how would we know which ones are and which ones aren’t? No, no – the authorities can’t help us. We have to keep an eye on them. Watch them. They’re in on this, so they could lead us to the next clue.”
“Next clue? What? What was the first clue? What are you talking about?”
“I’m just asking myself a question, Javier. A question we should both be asking.” Virgil paused dramatically. “What would the Shroud do?”
Javier closed his eyes. “Oh, Madre de Dios, you’re going to get us both killed.”
AMBER WAS BACK IN that rest stop in Whitehorse, and she was pinned by a mountain of corpses while Elias Mauk used his hammer to break her fingers. Only this time all the corpses on top of her were Imelda, and it wasn’t Mauk with the hammer, it was Amber herself as a red-skinned, horned demon.
A song played. ‘Magic Moments’ by Perry Como. It had been used in the Dark Places finale, albeit ironically. Now it played in her dream, like a thin, scratchy record.
Her demon-self smiled as she brought the hammer down, and ugly old Amber screamed bene
ath the mountain of Imeldas. She tried to pull her hand back, but Glen was suddenly there, grabbing her wrist and holding it down. He didn’t say anything. He may have been moving, but he was as dead as Imelda.
The hammer came down one last time and Amber was allowed to pull her hand back. Screaming, she watched her fingers as they twisted and snapped like they were still being pummelled by an invisible hammer. Then the corpses were gone and she was sitting up in the booth, and the demon was gone and now she was the demon, and her parents sat opposite.
Her father opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was ‘Magic Moments’. He chuckled at something and Amber’s mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly and opened her mouth to respond. More Perry Como.
They picked up their knives and forks and Amber did the same, but her strong red hands were bandaged and weak, and she dropped her knife and it fell to the floor. The waitress came over. She was dressed like Brenda from Fast Danny’s, but was actually Kirsty. She looked tired and bored and worn down, with not a trace of her usual glamour. She set down a large tray covered with a silver dish. Her husband, Grant, stood at the door to the kitchen, wearing a chef’s hat. He looked proud. There was blood on his chin. Kirsty uncovered the meal – Amber’s ugly old head on a plate of lettuce and cold cuts.
Amber’s parents started eating immediately. Amber hesitated, then dug her fork into the cheek and pulled away a chunk of meat dripping with blood. She popped it into her mouth and chewed. She tried to ask Kirsty for some salt, but all that came out was that damn song. Then she woke.
She lay where she was for a while, the song still playing behind her thoughts. She heard Ronnie ask Kelly how she’d slept, and Kelly said it was better than the damn van.
Amber reverted to normal, then pushed herself up on one elbow, making sure to hide the rips her claws had made in the blanket.
“Good morning,” Kelly called over. “We’ve been told the Chief of Police himself is on his way to see us. We might be getting out.”
“Freedom at last,” Ronnie said, groaning as he stood. He stretched, arched his back. “Now begins the gradual assimilation back into society.”
“Ronnie uses big words,” said Kelly.