by Mark Murphy
The Shadow Man's ruby eyes opened, twin lasers of hatred aimed right at Billy's own.
"What is it, Chief? Kill me! This is your chance to close the circle, to avenge your brother's death, to wreak justice on behalf of your wife! Do it! DO IT!"
The killer's fists, knuckles clenched tight, pounded the ruined dashboard of the Jeep.
"No," Billy said. "That's exactly what you want. And I'm not doing what you want. I will not be your final victim. You won't have that satisfaction."
There was a flash of lightning out of the clear blue sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. The blackbirds lifted their rustling wings en masse and flew away, taking the darkness with them. The sounds of the world flooded back into Billy's ears as the whispers dissipated and died out in the wind, never to return.
You did right by me, Billy.
Jimbo's voice.
There was a chorus of sirens wailing, coming from everywhere. A swarm of police and EMS crews was approaching. They would be here in mere seconds.
Justice would be served.
Billy looked down at Malcolm. The color had returned to his face. His eyes were bleary, but open.
"Mimi? Amy?" Malcolm said.
"I got them. They're safe."
"Thank God."
Billy unclicked Malcolm's seat belt and put his arms beneath the shoulders of his friend, pulling his limp body through the shattered windshield.
"I've got you, buddy," he said.
"Kill me! You've got to kill me!" the Shadow Man screamed.
Billy lifted Malcolm from the car, cradling him like a baby. He turned back toward the Shadow Man, eyes averted to stare at the bloodstained asphalt, avoiding the Shadow Man's gaze. The man's red-eyed stare was infected, parasitic. Billy was afraid it might worm into him somehow, contaminating his soul. Billy wiped his hands on his jeans, over and over. It did no good. He felt as though he could scrub his hands until his fingers bled, until the epidermis was completely gone and the muscles and sinews glistened in the sun, and he'd never erase the corruption of that touch from the Shadow Man's fingertips.
"If I killed you, I'd be just like you," Billy said. "But I'm not like you."
"You've failed again, Billy. Just like you failed your brother. Just like you failed your wife. You've failed at everything, Chief. Everything."
The Shadow Man's voice was as brittle as glass.
"Fuck you," said Billy, turning his back.
A boxy white ambulance pulled up right next to the capsized Jeep, lights flashing. Two young EMTs tumbled out of the cab. One, lanky and hook-nosed, looked like a cartoon buzzard. The other was the spitting image of Porky Pig in white scrubs. Porky Pig popped open the rear bay ambulance doors and hauled out a gurney, its wheels dropping to the asphalt with a metallic clank!
"I've got an accident victim here. There's another one in the Jeep. He's trapped. And watch out—the trapped one's a murderer. And an asshole," Billy said, lowering Malcolm onto the waiting gurney.
Amy was limping, tremulous and pale. Mimi, eyes filled with tears, braced her mother with an arm, holding her up.
"Dad?" Mimi said.
"I'm here," Malcolm said.
"I love you, Dad!"
"Love you, too, hon."
Malcolm looked up at Billy and smiled.
"They're okay?" he asked.
"They've been through a lot, but they're okay." Billy said.
Malcolm smiled.
"I can't thank you enough," he said.
Billy was amazed at how alive he felt. He realized how powerful an anesthetic his hatred and anger had been. It was as though he had just awakened from a long nightmare into the brilliant sunlight of a new day.
The WKKR news van had parked across the street. Tina Baker stepped out, a baseball cap turned backwards on her head. She was uncharacteristically disheveled-looking. She picked her video camera up off the passenger seat of the van and began panning across the incredible scene.
The EMT Buzzard had crouched beside the Jeep.
"Sir, you'll have to . . ." the EMT was saying.
"Screw you, chickenshit! What are you, a pimple-faced high school student, telling me what I have to do? I'm a surgeon! Get away from me!" the Shadow Man snapped.
The boy stood up, flummoxed.
But when the Shadow Man spoke again, his voice had changed completely, as though someone had flipped a switch.
"Malcolm? Oh, Malcolm? Can you hear me?" the Shadow Man called, his voice as sweet as honey.
"What is it, Joel?" Malcolm said.
"You won't win! I've destroyed you! You'll die on Death Row, Malcolm King!" the Shadow Man screamed from inside the Jeep.
Lying supine, Malcolm pointed across the street at Tina Baker. The newswoman had her camera trained on them at that very moment, its lens catching the waning sunlight like a distant star.
"Joel, I don't know if you can see this, what with you being trapped in a wrecked car and all, but there's a lady over there across the street, with a video camera zeroed in on your pasty white face. You know who she is? She's a professional news anchor. Smart lady. She filmed your little confession on the beach earlier today, Joel. Got it all down, every word of it. You think you're a friggin' genius, don't you? Think you're the most intelligent guy around, a regular Einstein, don't ya? But you know what? You've been outsmarted, Joel, by a surgeon in a sleepy south Georgia town and a cop from the swamps of Florida. We kicked your ass, Joel Birkenstock," said Malcolm.
"That's not my name," the Shadow Man said, his voice quavering.
"You don't like the name you picked out for yourself? Why not, Joel? Because Joel Birkenstock is a loser? Because that's the name that got you beaten?"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" the Shadow Man screamed, his voice as shrill as the whistle on a teakettle.
"I don't really care what your name is. It's over for you. You're finished. You're done," Malcolm said.
The police helicopter—a Eurocopter EC135, a type Billy was familiar with—landed in a grassy field nearby. The passenger side door opened and Sam Baker stepped out. He walked over to Tina and hugged her, knocking her ball cap off. Tina's left leg kicked up a little bit as he did this, the video camera dangling at an angle from her right hand.
Lying on the gurney, Malcolm looked at Billy and pointed at the wrecked Jeep.
"Billy, there are a couple of boxes in the Jeep that have some things the police might be interested in. Souvenirs from over a hundred victims. Together with Tina's video, I think there's more than enough here to exonerate both me and your brother, and to send Joel here to the place he belongs."
Billy looked back at the steaming wreck of the Jeep. The skinny EMT stood motionless next to it, staring off into space, his hands on his hips, not quite certain what to do next.
Billy could feel the Shadow Man's red eyes glaring at him.
But, for once, the Shadow Man said nothing.
40
Sam Baker watched as a single blackbird flitted westward, toward Fort Pulaski.
"What the hell was that with the birds?" Sam asked his ex-wife. "When we first saw them, we were high-tailing it toward the beach. They looked like a cloud on the horizon, out there over the ocean, like a purplish haze just moving around over the waves. And then they were all around us. Seemed like millions of them. Eric had to pull the helicopter up over the ocean to get away from them."
"I have no idea what that was all about," Tina said, scanning the sky with her hand over her eyes. "They're all gone now, though. I think that was the last one."
The police helicopter smelled of oil and diesel. Tina could feel the heat from its engine on her face.
"That was a rather dramatic entrance you made, Detective."
"Trying to make a good first impression. You know how that is," he said.
Sam glanced at the wreck of the Jeep across the street. There were now three ambulances parked in an arc around the ruined vehicle, as well as a couple of black-and-white Savannah-Chatham police cruiser
s, their blue lights flashing in silence.
"You were right, Tina," he said, "I should have trusted your instincts."
"I'm glad you can admit that."
The two of them gazed at Malcolm, who was being examined in his gurney by both Porky Pig and the Buzzard.
"He said you were an asshole," Tina said at last.
"I guess I was a little bit. I was just so sure he was guilty."
"You can be a real prick sometimes when you're convinced you're right about something," she said.
"I know. You made that abundantly clear during our divorce mediation."
Tina hoisted the camera back onto her shoulder.
"There are things I like about you, too, you know. Like the whole Dudley Do-Right Boy Scout thing. I knew you'd come when I called," she said.
"I still can't believe you got this guy on film with a confession," he said, shaking his head.
"Hey, I'm good."
She clicked the camera off.
"You wanna go make your apologies now?" Tina said.
Sam grabbed Tina's hand. It was softer than he remembered, but her fingers clasped his perfectly.
"If you'll go with me," he said.
"That's a deal," Sam said.
Together, arm in arm, they took the first step forward.
There wasn't a blackbird in sight.
41
Malcolm took a deep breath. It hurt like hell.
Another EMT crew had arrived. One of them had inserted an IV attached to a bag of lactated Ringer's solution into the veins of his left hand. It stung a bit—LR always did—but then he felt the cool fluid running into his arm and it soothed him.
When Billy had pulled him from the wreckage of the Jeep, Malcolm felt like he'd been on the losing end of a bar brawl. His body ached everywhere. He would not have been surprised if he'd lost an arm or had a femur snapped. Moreover, his skull felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. He'd never had a concussion before, but this felt like he'd imagined one would be like. He saw black spots pulsating in front of his eyes and wondered for an instant if he might be having an intracranial bleed.
Amy and Mimi had waited for a moment while the EMTs strapped Malcolm into the gurney. When Malcolm saw the two of them there, standing next to a large bank of blooming azaleas, that fixed everything. He wished he could take a picture of them and capture the moment forever, not just the image but also the emotion, the thought, the feelings of relief and gratitude. From the moment he saw his girls and knew that they were okay, all of his cares dissipated. His aches and pains vanished.
The two of them came over to him as soon as the EMTs had strapped Malcolm in.
"Hi, Dad," Mimi said. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she clasped his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead.
"Hi, punkin," Malcolm said. "You okay?"
"It's been a long day, but things are looking up," she said.
"I am so proud of you, Mimi. The lipstick thing was brilliant."
"I thought you were against me wearing too much makeup."
"I suppose there are times when it's useful."
Mimi kissed him again, then stood to one side.
"I should stop hogging you and let Mom see you a bit," she said. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
Amy was standing patiently with her hands clasped in front of her. When Mimi stepped aside, if was as though an electromagnet had been switched on between them. She ran to him, all of her aches and pains having evaporated in the ecstasy of simply seeing him alive. She nearly climbed on top of him, her slim arms wrapped around the entire gurney, her lips covering Malcolm's face with kisses.
She stopped long enough to look into his eyes, forehead to forehead.
"I was afraid I'd never see you again," she whispered, kissing him again.
"Ames, I wasn't going anywhere," he said.
Amy looked at him and shook her head, slowly. Her wet, soot-laden hair brushed his cheek.
"You look like shit," she said.
"Funny you should say that, little missy, cause you're just about the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life," Malcolm replied, in his best John Wayne drawl.
"What a line, cowboy. You've always been good for that sort of thing."
He grinned and winked at her.
"Helps me out with the ladies," he said.
Malcolm looked over at the wrecked Jeep. The ambulance and fire crews had used the Jaws of Life to cut the Shadow Man from the destroyed vehicle and had strapped him into a gurney. His pale body was twisted, misshapen, as if all of the evil in him had corrupted his frame and bent him double. His eyes were closed tight. He muttered feverishly to himself, his voice a mere whisper.
Amy glanced over at the Shadow Man and frowned. Sunlight illuminated her furrowed brows.
"Is this really over?" she said.
"It is. At least I think so."
"He was going to kill us, wasn't he?"
Malcolm nodded.
"Why?" Amy said.
Malcolm thought for a minute. He shook his head slowly.
"You know, I used to say that there was no absolute evil. That society set certain rules and some people simply chose not to live by them. I thought that what was right and what was wrong were all a matter of perspective."
He glanced over at the Shadow Man, who was being loaded into an ambulance about ten feet away. He was escorted by Porky Pig and the Buzzard, flanked by two uniformed policemen.
Looking back at Amy, Malcolm blinked back a tear.
"But I was wrong. That man is evil. If there were any one thing to convince me that demons exist, he'd be it. And that's the only explanation I have for the things he's done."
As if on cue, the Shadow Man erupted from his trance, eyes blazing. Beads of sweat popped out across his brow. He rose up, red-faced, the tendons in his neck straining, and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
"It's not over, Malcolm King! It's not over! Fate is coming for you! He flies in the shadows on rustling dark wings, claws catching the edge of the firmament, and the Lord God Himself shalt not protect thee from his wrath!"
He cackled, his voice breaking up like a ship fractured on a reef.
"Favorite son! Favorite son!"
The Shadow Man was screaming, his vocal cords tearing apart as his did so, hands clenched tight, white—knuckled. He slammed his fists against the stretcher, over and over, hammering away until the gurney shook. Drops of blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the flame-scorched earth.
They loaded the Shadow Man's gurney into the ambulance. One of the cops slammed the ambulance doors, muffling his frantic screams at last. The ambulance lights flickered on, twin strobe L.E.D.s that jittered across Malcolm's retinas.
Malcolm felt Amy's delicate fingers encircle his own. Mimi took his other hand, her touch cool and dry.
The three of them watched in silence as the ambulance pulled away, escorted by a pair of police cars.
The truck bomb crater was still as hot as hell—steaming, smoking and angry, like a volcano ready to blow. The visible flames had died down, but the smoldering hulk of the SUV radiated wave after wave of invisible heat. The pumper trucks poured water into the crater only to see it vaporize instantly, making vast clouds of steam that drifted among the firemen. The vapors swirled around them so that they looked insubstantial and incomplete, apparitions of smoke and mist. The air stank of burnt rubber and scorched metal.
A trio of ghosts materialized inside the maelstrom—two male, one female. They walked toward Malcolm. One was tall and lean, a man made of pipes and baling wire. The other two, of shorter stature, walked arm-inarm, as if they were joined at the ribs.
And then the mists dissipated, bringing the ghosts into focus, giving them substance: Billy, Sam, and Tina Baker.
"You okay?" asked Billy, placing a hand on Malcolm's shoulder.
"A little banged up, but all in all, I seem fine," Malcolm said.
"Dr. King, I owe yo
u an apology," Sam Baker said.
Malcolm noted Sam Baker's head really did look like a damn asteroid.
"No hard feelings. I'm just glad I had your ex-wife along to help exonerate me. She's one hell of a lady."
Sam gazed at Tina and smiled.
"I'm finding that out all over again," Sam said.
Tina smiled back at Sam, somehow managing a hundred-watt grin in the midst of the chaos.
"Mrs. King, how are you and Mimi holding up?" Sam said.
"We're okay. Don't we need to talk to you or something? Tell you what happened today?"
"I'll tell you what—let's get you two checked out at the hospital and we'll talk there once we're certain you guys are okay medically. After all you've been through, I think that'd be best. Would that be okay with the two of you?"
"That'd be fine," said Amy, brushing her hair from her eyes.
Sam caught the eye of one of the uniformed policemen—a young man with a crew cut and reflective sunglasses who looked amazingly like the T-2000 policeman in the Terminator—and motioned for him to come over.
"Officer, these two young ladies were the ones who were kidnapped. Make sure that they are accompanied at all times and that they receive proper medical attention. Capiche?"
"Got it, sir."
"Ladies, come with me, if you don't mind," the policeman said. Mimi and Amy followed the cop over to one of the other ambulances, leaving Malcolm and Billy alone.
Billy grasped Malcolm's hands in his own.
"It's time for me to go, kemosabe," the Seminole said.
"Tonight?"
Billy nodded.
"I need to get a head start. I've been gone too long as it is, and it's a long drive back. I'll probably stop halfway down and get a hotel. Maybe in Gainesville."
"You're welcome to stay at our place tonight," Malcolm said.
Billy shook his head.
"It's time I moved on. I've got lots of people who depend on me back home in Florida. They've been very patient with me through all of this."
Billy reached behind his head, took off the necklace he was wearing, and handed it to Malcolm.
"I want you to have this. It's a bear claw, symbolic of the Littlebear family. My grandfather gave it to me when I first went to Iraq. Gramps said that it would give me the courage to face my darkest fears and overcome them. His father had given it to him, and I'm giving it to you."