Thunder Road

by Thorne, Tamara

  “They’ve turned the cross back on,” Carlo said. “Gaudy, isn’t it?”

  Alex laughed. “That it is.”

  Justin felt a surge of anger: He could tell by the scientist’s tone that she was flirting with the Peeler. Slut. You deserve what’s coming to you, bitch!

  Soon the pair returned to the encampment. “I should be getting back,” Carlo announced.

  “Wouldn’t you like some coffee first?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, that would be very nice.”

  Justin could hear Carlo’s unspoken interest in the woman and determined that he would be witness to the Peeler’s greatest act, one way or another. Maybe he’d even be allowed to participate.

  Justin knew he should get out of the camp immediately, just to be sure Carlo didn’t see his car up the road, but he lingered a few moments, listening.

  “Tomorrow,” Carlo said, “about one o’clock, I could show you around Old Madelyn if you like.”

  “Close your shop?”

  “I usually do, an hour each day. My profession is very draining, and I need time to recharge my batteries.”

  “Then you shouldn’t waste your resting time.”

  “Alex,” he said slowly, “showing you around the park would recharge my batteries far better than reading a book or taking a nap.”

  “Well,” she said doubtfully, “I’ve been leaving Eric here alone so much, I don’t know . . .”

  She wants him to talk her into it. Slut!

  “An hour?”

  “Well, if I’m back here by two-thirty, I could give him the afternoon off.” She paused. “Carlo?”

  “What is it?”

  “There are things about me that you don’t know.”

  He chuckled, a bitter sound. “I have secrets you don’t want to know.”

  Fascinated, Justin leaned forward, trying to see their faces.

  “I guess we all have secrets,” Alex replied at last. “Carlo, what I mean is, well, to be blunt, I’m very attracted to you . . .”

  Justin’s hard-on became achingly apparent.

  “But I can’t get involved. I’m afraid I’m sending mixed signals.”

  “Is there someone else?” he asked.

  “No. No one. I can’t explain. I just can’t get involved with anyone.”

  “Alex, don’t worry. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I shouldn’t be here. I can’t go farther than friendship, and I can’t explain. But, Alex, could we just be friends?”

  She didn’t speak for a long time, but when she finally did, her tone was lighter. “Yes. We can do that. I’ll meet you.”

  “Good.” He refilled their mugs. “How did you like those books?”

  “Wonderful. Especially the one on magnetic ores.”

  They launched into a technical discussion and Justin took the opportunity to belly-crawl back to the hillside and inch away out of sight. When he was around the edge of the mountain, he began walking quickly. Hoping Pelegrine wouldn’t leave too soon.

  He tripped twice in invisible potholes as he hurried down the trail, but finally made it, dusty and dirty, back to his car. As he dug in his pocket for his keys, he heard the roar of Carlo’s motorcycle. He cursed himself: He might have heard it sooner if he’d been paying attention.

  “Shit.” His keys weren’t in his pocket. Frantically he tried the other one, but they weren’t there either. The motorcycle was almost to the main road. “Shit!” Justin squatted between the car and the hillside. They were midpoint in the canyon and it was a fifty-fifty chance that Carlo would turn right and go back via Thunder Road. If he did, he was safe from discovery.

  The motorcycle appeared. Carlo sat at the junction a moment, then revved the engine and turned left.

  “Shit!” As the cycle’s headlight shone on the car, Justin slid down to the ground on his ass, his back against the hillside, and feigned sleep as Carlo slowed, then stopped beside the Mustang. Shit. Footsteps approached, stopped in front of him. Busted. By the Peeler. The thought gave him a little thrill.

  “Justin?”

  He opened his eyes and stared up at the helmeted man, pretending he didn’t know who he was. “Who? Who’s there?”

  “Carlo Pelegrine,” the Peeler said, removing his helmet.

  “Thank God!” Quickly Justin pushed himself to his feet and stepped around the Mustang, a big relieved smile plastered on his face. “I didn’t think anyone would come along tonight! Boy, am I glad to see you, Carlo. My car broke down.”

  Pelegrine studied him. “What are you doing up here this time of night?”

  “I was on my way home from church. I guess I shouldn’t have taken the long way.”

  “I guess not.”

  Carlo didn’t sound too friendly, but Justin pushed ahead. “Can you give me a lift?”

  “What’s wrong with the car? Maybe we can get it going.”

  Justin shook his head. “The fan belt broke.”

  Pelegrine looked doubtful. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. I can fix it myself tomorrow. After school,” he added, looking worried. “I have a math final in the morning, and I have to study.”

  “Is the car locked?”

  “Uh-huh.” Justin tried the driver’s door to prove it. “Locked up tight.”

  “Okay.” Carlo put his helmet on and straddled the Harley. “Climb on.”

  Justin did, then put his arms around Carlo’s waist when the man told him to do so. Although the Peeler drove slowly, it was still a thrilling ride. He could feel Pelegrine’s back muscles move through his black leather jacket as he piloted the cycle through the curves, and with each tiny movement, Justin imagined that the Peeler was peeling Alex Manderley, and that he was helping.

  By the time Carlo pulled up at his house, Justin had a hard-on that wouldn’t quit. He was careful to keep his crotch out of Carlo’s sight, worried that the man might think it was for him. It wasn’t. It was for the kill.

  58

  Tom Abernathy

  “I FOLD,” TOM SAID, THROWING IN HIS CARDS. HE GOT UP FROM the table, stretched, then fetched himself a beer before returning to the table, where Ray Vine was just showing four kings to the others. Grinning, he pulled the pot, all ten dollars, toward him.

  “I’m a rich man,” he announced, and laughed.

  “Well, you won most of that from your wife,” Rosie said dryly.

  “So, Tom,” Moss began, “what’d you think of Alex’s stories about. aliens and elves and all that stuff?” He chucked. “You’re going to have a hard time outtelling her tales.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t know about that,” he drawled. “I didn’t want to steal her thunder, her being my guest and all.” He paused, looking from face to face. All but Marie were smiling; she looked wary. Marie might be a little touchy, especially after spilling her guts about the mutilations, so he resolved to say nothing that might offend her.

  “Did you have yourself a close encounter, Tom?” Cassie asked, egging him on.

  He glanced over at the couch, saw that little Eve was fast asleep, then looked at her mother. “I sure did, Cass. Real close.”

  Ray and Moss both groaned.

  “It was on a night kinda like this, in the spring about, oh, three years ago. Belle and I were having ourselves a midnight ride up to Olive Mesa. There we were, just looking out at Madelyn, listening to the silence, when all of a sudden the night turned bright as day and I saw this great big old flying saucer right over my head. Belle, she was as stunned as I was. Then I heard this lady’s voice say, ‘Howdy, Tom.’”

  “That was me,” Cassie snickered. “I was up there moonbathing.”

  Tom made a show of rubbing his chin, then finally shook his head. “Nope, wasn’t you, Cass. You have red hair. This lady had green. And three of everything. Three eyes, three ears, three mouths, why, she even had three—”

  “Tom!” Rosie hissed. “There’s a child sleeping in here.”

  “‘Sleeping’s’ the key word,” Cassie said. “Don’t worry ab
out it.”

  “I was gonna say ‘arms,’” Tom said, with a falsely hurt sniff. “Well,” he continued, leaning forward, his tone conspiratorial, “I can tell you, I was in shock, seeing this curvy green-haired lady alien just suddenly standing in front of me.”

  “I’ll bet she was naked, too,” Moss said, laughing.

  “Oh, nooo.” Tom shook his head. “She had on this see-through space suit. Ever wonder where all those tubes on an astronaut’s space suit go? Well, let me tell you, it’s real interesting. And not worth going through for a walk on the moon, take my word.”

  Even Marie was starting to smile now. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him tonight—he rarely told even mildly bawdy stories, at least not in mixed company, but now he was being positively racy, and he just couldn’t seem to stop. He guessed that seeing Marie in that pretty little dress all night and getting to hold her hand for a while must have had its effect. He hadn’t been that close to a female for some time and he felt like it had turned him into a sniggering adolescent. But he was having too much fun to care.

  “So what’d she want?” Moss asked. “As if I didn’t know.” He poked Cassie and they both chuckled.

  “Why, she wanted to buy Belle right out from under me.” Tom smirked at Baskerville. “I didn’t care whether she wanted her to ride or to experiment on, I wouldn’t sell my horse for all the cheese on the moon, and that kinda riled the green lady up and she pointed a ray gun at me and ordered me off my mount.” He paused. “That alien was nothing but a low-down, belly-crawling horse thief, and you know what we do with those?”

  Davy grinned. “Necktie party?”

  “Yep. Code of the West. I threw my rope and lassoed that pretty green neck of hers, but she had that dang space suit on and it didn’t faze her a bit. Instead, she blasted me with her ray gun. I went flying out of my saddle, and Belle, being the smartest horse that ever lived, she took off as fast as she could, so the space alien wouldn’t get her. The last thing I saw was that three-legged space woman standing over me, staring at me with those creepy eyes of hers.” Frowning, he shook his head. “That one in the middle was especially unsettling.”

  “I take it you escaped, since you lived to tell the tale?” Cass prompted.

  “I did, but that devil-woman almost sent me to the last roundup. You see, I woke up with a whopper of a headache, not knowing where I was. It was only a minute before I realized I couldn’t move a muscle, and I looked around. I was tied down to a table in a big white room with all sorts of buttons and computers and pingy noises all around. I thought I was dreaming, but I couldn’t wake up. Then that space lady came in, followed by a whole passel more of them, all with three of everything. The first alien, she told me that all the men on their planet had gone off to live somewheres else—”

  “Sounds like she probably ran them off all by herself,” Ray observed.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Tom replied, smooth as you please. “However it happened, I guess those stories about aliens abducting people and making babies with them is true, even though Doc Alex says it isn’t.”

  “How was the ride?” Ray asked. Rosie shot him a long-suffering look.

  “Why, I guess I don’t know,” Tom said, shrugging. “I refused.”

  “From what I’ve heard,” Cassie said, smiling, “you can’t refuse.”

  “Maybe those other fellas never tried,” Tom drawled. “Those green ladies look like quite a treat.”

  “So they just let you go?” Davy asked.

  “I had to fight those ladies off, which was hard, seeing as how they had lots more limbs than I did, and in the most peculiar places.

  “What I did was tell ‘em I’d do the deed, and I convinced ’em to untie me so I could do it right. As soon as they did, I skedaddled, ran all over that spaceship of theirs, looking for a way out, those crazy space women on my tail. All the doors were whoosh-whooshing as I ran from room to room, just like in those science fiction programs. I was getting really nervous about then, thinking I was doomed, but then another door whooshed and I ran into a room with nothing in it but this weird blue light. It was a column, ten feet around, and it seemed to come out of the ceiling and go down right through the floor.

  “Well, I was staring at it, not knowing what to do, and the door whooshed open and those three-eyed women came rushing at me. I ran right into the light, and I couldn’t see ’em anymore. All I could see was blue, and it felt like I was in an elevator, going down.

  “Finally the going-down feeling stopped, but all I could see was blue. Then I looked down and saw the good red earth under my feet, so I started walking. A second later, I was out of the blue column, back on Olive Mesa. I gave a whistle and Belle came running. I hopped on and then she hightailed it out of there like the devil was on her tail.” He paused. “Which maybe he was, considering what the doc said.”

  He sat back, eyes closed, soaking up the groans and smattering of applause from his little audience. A chair scraped back and he opened them to see Marie standing up. She didn’t look happy.

  “Thanks for dinner. I’ve gotta go.”

  “Marie?” he asked, rising. “Something wrong?”

  She paused, looking at him. “No. It’s late and I’m tired.”

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  She didn’t object, so he trailed her to the front door. Snatching her coat, she slipped it on before he could help, then pulled her keys out of her pocket.

  “Marie?”

  She opened the door and stepped out, before turning to face him. “Yes?” Her eyes snapped at him.

  “What’s eating you?”

  “You expect me to believe you don’t know?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied, completely confounded. He’d made sure not to say anything about sheep when he told his tale, so it couldn’t be that.

  “Well, you think on it, Tom. Good night.” With that, she whisked off to her minitruck and sped away.

  “Women,” Tom said, scratching his head.

  59

  Hannibal Caine

  “HE’S MAD,” HANNIBAL CAINE SAID AS HE PACED BACK AND forth in his office. “He’s completely insane!” He stopped midstep. “And here I am, talking to myself!”

  But who else did he dare confide in? Not Eldo Blandings, lost in a sadistic madness of his own. Not the Senior Apostles, two of whom were part of Blandings’s terrorist group, which meant they weren’t to be trusted on general principles. As for the other two, Caine had seen the rapturous looks on their faces tonight as Sinclair had ranted and raved about talking to God. They were sold on the Prophet.

  No, Hannibal Caine would keep his own company, just as he always had. Caine dropped into his chair with a sigh. Sinclair had a glint in his eye tonight unlike any he had ever seen before, and afterward, when Caine had insisted on a private meeting, all he did was go on about “seeing the light.” Unless James Sinclair was a better actor than Caine gave him credit for, the man truly believed the Apocalypse would happen just as he prophesied.

  Either that, or Sinclair was preparing to leave after all, and with a real bang.

  Unfortunately, Hannibal Caine thought as he poured himself a brandy, that was highly unlikely. Still, he would help things along, to make sure Sinclair would be out one way or another. First there were the terrorist tactics, which would inevitably be blamed on Sinclair himself, escalating his downfall. Caine thought Sinclair’s assertion that he’d been talking to God might just help things along tremendously, turning him from charismatic preacher to crazed zealot without too much help. Caine might have to do very little more than plant a few ideas in the police chief’s head. And if that didn’t work, he could engineer another Jonestown massacre.

  “Insane,” he said, and gulped the brandy. Smiling, he poured another. “Completely, totally insane.”

  60

  Moss Baskerville

  “IS EVE ASLEEP?” MOSS BASKERVILLE ASKED AS HE CAME IN THE back door.

  Cassie nodded and laid her hand
on Moss’s arm. “Is Iris all right?”

  The minute they’d come home and found the huge “666” painted on the front door, Cassie had started worrying about her remaining goat. Moss had told her he’d go out and check while she put their daughter to bed.

  “Moss?”

  “Iris is missing, Cass.”

  Her eyes glossed with tears and Baskerville pulled her to him and hugged her fiercely. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I’m really sorry.”

  “I know.” She pushed away from him and roughly wiped away her tears. “Do you think she’s . . .”

  “I hope not, and I’m gonna go look for her in just a minute.” He crossed to the phone and called the station. His officer, Al Gonzales, was down at the Cactus Flower Bar getting ready to haul in a couple drunken disorderlies, but otherwise, everything was quiet. Moss told Ken Landry what had happened at Cassie’s and that he’d be coming up on the radio shortly, then asked him to have Al cruise town with an especially watchful eye for vandals.

  Hanging up, he fetched his gun belt from the bedroom, then returned to the living room, buckling it on. He checked the clip in his .38, then grabbed his leather uniform jacket from the coatrack by the door.

  “Moss, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Guess I’ll check around the fort, to start with.” He pulled the jacket on.

  “Be careful, babe,” she whispered, her eyes starting to glisten again.

  He bent down and kissed her. “Don’t worry, and keep everything locked up.”

  Outside, he climbed in the cruiser and headed up Old Madelyn Highway. At the junction, he slowed and shined his light around the fort. No goat. For the first time, he thought the animal might really still be alive.

  He turned east on Thunder Road, driving slowly, playing the spotlight over Dead Man’s Hill on the north side, then on the backside of the fort. Nothing. He turned around and started back down the highway, passing Cassie’s and turning in to Madland. He cruised the streets of the park, seeing no one and nothing amiss until he turned onto the northernmost road and spotted the Langtry Theater.