Penelope stamped on the brake with both of her feet, unconsciously using all of the force she could muster to bring the car to a stop and cause the horrifying sight to disappear from her immediate view. Brakes began to screech with the force, and the car’s rear end slid around to the side. She saw that she narrowly missed a Mercedes Benz as the rear of the car finally slithered to a faltering halt. The seatco fell from the hood as if jerked from the ocean by a fisherman’s line.
Slammed against the steering wheel, Penelope looked around with a panting gasp. Ten feet away from her sat the black Suburban. Frank was trying to pry his fingers under the unerring grasp of the thing Penelope knew as Merri. The smaller woman held the guard in her appalling grip and shook him slightly like a Chihuahua with a rat in its mouth.
The white hand with the long fingernails slammed onto the top of the hood and Penelope gasped again. She threw the transmission into reverse and didn’t even look as she pressed down the gas pedal. She could feel the tug of something as it caught on the frame underneath the ‘Bird. Then it was free, and she could see the shape crouched on the asphalt in front of her. Both feet hit the brake hard again and bluish smoke began to billow from underneath the bent and broken hood. So much for Sammy’s engine, Penelope thought regretfully. But better for me.
The ‘Bird ground to an irresolute stop again. Her eyes never wavered from the sight of the seatco rising to a shuddering upright position, as if pulled by invisible strings. One half of the strange mask dangled on its wretched face, and one arm twitched with spasmodic motions. Never more than in that one moment did it appear less human. Penelope’s mouth opened up, but she shut it when she realized that there was nothing to say. One hand slipped the transmission into drive again, and this time the engine didn’t just wail, it screeched with mindless pain.
She glanced at Frank and Merri again and saw that mere unconsciousness wasn’t going to deter the beautifully cold woman. She was going to joyfully choke the life out of the young security guard and toss away the corpse like so much unwanted garbage.
Penelope threw her entire weight onto the gas pedal and jerked as the car leaped forward with a lingering quake. It knew it was on its death knell and was determined to go out with a bang. This time when metal met the form of the seatco, she slammed on the brake and was weirdly pleased to feel the thump and rumble of the wheel as it crossed over flesh. Whatever it was, it was now damaged and stuck under the weight of the T-Bird.
As Penelope threw open the door, she saw Frank’s hand reach for something on his belt. He wasn’t quite unconscious, and his fingers jerked fitfully. Merri was thoroughly enjoying her role as a murderer and didn’t seem to notice. Penelope tripped getting out of the car, intent on jumping on the back of the other woman and clawing her pretty eyes out, if that was what it was going to take to stop her from killing the young man.
There was a hiss and crackle of noise as Penelope scrambled for purchase. She came around the door and abruptly stopped in place. Frank had grasped his Taser and pressed it up to the woman’s chest. The little handheld unit was little bigger than a pack of cigarettes. Merri suddenly let go of his neck but not before Frank got a dose of the Taser as well.
Both fell to the ground like puppets without masters.
Penelope blinked. She stood up and backed away so she could see under the ‘Bird. The seatco looked like a large bloodied shape under the front wheels of the car. There was no movement from anyone but her. Finally she trotted up the walkway to the front door of the facility and politely asked the receptionist to call the police.
After an incredulous look, the receptionist picked up the phone and dialed. Penelope took a moment to rest her head against the smooth marble counter. A second later she jerked herself up and looked around, expecting the seatco to have revived itself and to be standing behind her, ready to rend her body into useless pieces. But there was no one there.
When she forced herself to go to the glass doors to look outside at the pandemoniac scene she had left, Penelope expected to see two unconscious forms lying next to the golf cart and one under the wheels of the ‘Bird. It had been only a minute or two since she’d left them.
But only Frank’s still form, one hand clutching the little Taser unit, remained.
Chapter Sixteen
Saturday, July 5th - Sunday, July 6th
Nut (slang, origin probably 1960s English) - expenses incurred by a thief in setting up a job
Penelope had to admit that there were a great many things in the world that she did not know and understand. It seemed as though it was getting to be a long list. Longer by the second, she thought as she stared out the glass doors of Cedars on the Ridge.
It wasn’t the only list that was plaguing her thoughts. She couldn’t do anything about Jeremy. She couldn’t return the black diamond. She couldn’t even protect herself except in the minutest manner. After all, how many 1963 Ford Thunderbirds was she going to have on hand to plow down a masked monster that was intent on cannibalizing her dismembered corpse?
But I can protect my mother, Penelope determined. Not two minutes after she had peered out the window and concluded that the seatco and Merri had vanished, Freddy Clark’s Christmas bulb blue Cadillac pulled into the lot. He pulled up behind the still parked Chevy Suburban, and Penelope could see him looking around curiously at the golf cart and the unconscious Frank nearby. Penelope could also see that her mother was asleep in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of what was occurring.
The Suburban, she thought crossly and somewhat nervously. If they hadn’t taken the Suburban, then where had they gone? The mental playback of her running down the seatco and going back for more included the sickening sound of flesh ripping and bones crunching into uselessness. Merri had been just as unconscious as Frank. The seatco had been incapacitated, and the ‘Bird had obviously been moved after the fact, whether by Merri’s hand or by the seatco’s inhuman strength was unclear.
In the background Penelope heard the receptionist arguing with the 9-1-1 operator about what was happening. She abruptly realized that she didn’t want to go back outside. After a moment she unfroze herself and opened the door.
“All I heard was screeching tires,” the receptionist snarled into the phone and then perceived that Penelope was going outside again. “Wait,” the receptionist called hurriedly. “The police want to know whether they need to send an ambulance.”
“Frank needs one,” Penelope said over her shoulder and went into the night again. The knowledge that the double hit by the ‘Bird should have killed the seatco should have been reassuring, but somehow she knew that it was still alive.
The moment that Freddy saw her, he stepped out of the Caddy and gave her a curious stare. He carefully closed the door so as not to wake Jessica up and stepped around the car, glancing around him as he did so. Penelope could tell he was trying to work out exactly what had happened. He could see the motionless security guard and the ‘Bird with its engine compartment crumpled and smoking and he couldn’t quite tell what it had made contact with.
But once upon a time Freddy had been in the creeping business. He had been a close friend of Jacob Quick’s, and he had always been devoted to Jessica and Penelope. He gave the scene another long look and then settled his resolute gaze on Penelope. He suddenly said, “What in the name of God is that awful smell?”
Penelope shrugged. The lingering rotting smell of the seatco was hard to ignore. It was even harder to look Freddy in the eye and not silently acknowledge that she was to blame for this mess. She pulled out one of the stacks of money that she had appropriated from the Durfrene Row house and handed it to Freddy. “You need to take my mother away for a week or two,” she said stubbornly.
Freddy glanced at the money in his hand. He didn’t need the cash. His own businesses did well enough that he could have retired on the spot. His tall, wiry frame shook for a moment. Sky blue eyes came back to Jessica, and he crooked one eyebrow expectantly. The fact that Penelope had handed him a wad
of cash told him volumes about the fact that something terrible was going on.
“Somewhere like Florida,” she added. “Maybe Jersey. You can go to Atlantic City.”
Freddy’s mouth opened. He took a moment and looked over his shoulder at Jessica, still fast asleep in the car. Then he said, “She stayed up ‘til three this morning. Couldn’t sleep worth a damn. Kept having dreams about you.”
Penelope didn’t answer that. “You need to go now.” She could hear the sirens coming. It wouldn’t be more than a minute before they got there. But in truth, it wasn’t the sirens that made her want Freddy gone to somewhere protected with her mother safely in his capable hands. It was them. She could feel them like a leech stuck to the middle of her spine. Here. Always there. Watching. Waiting. Waiting for blood.
Freddy knew Penelope fairly well. He knew what motivated her. He knew what she did with the money she made from stolen items. He knew that what she did, she did for a specific reason. Like her father in more ways than one, he knew that she was a goodhearted thief. She stole from other thieves and bad characters. All to support her ailing mother.
Sighing, Freddy stuffed the dough awkwardly into a shirt pocket. Penelope reminded him of the good old days. There wasn’t an hour that went by that Penelope didn’t make him think of Jacob. He nodded curtly to her, understanding that now wasn’t the time for prolonged explanations. “I’ll call you,” he said.
“Keep your cell on,” she advised. “Tell Mama I’ll call her tomorrow or the next day when I get some things sorted out. I don’t know what you can tell her. So tell her the truth. I’m in trouble, and it might affect her, so she needs to be safe.”
Freddy didn’t like the idea that Jessica could be impacted by Penelope’s actions but since he had been a thief for the better part of his existence, it was hard to chastise her for her mistakes. He nodded again and got into the Caddy. A moment later it pulled out of the parking lot, and the red tail lights disappeared down the street.
Penelope scanned the area. The ‘Bird was well and truly dead. If it would start again, it certainly wouldn’t get very far. With the rapidly approaching sirens she knew that she didn’t have a lot of time to waste. Then her gaze rested on the Suburban. Why not?
*
What Penelope had read had told her that the seatco comes at night. It was supported by personal experience, and her only avenue of escape was to put distance between it and herself. Obviously she had damaged it, in addition the Taser had damaged Merri, but Penelope couldn’t guarantee that would be the end of the evening’s horror.
She drove as far as she could in the black Suburban, but she was tired. This had been her longest day ever, and any excess energy had been leeched away like a drain in the bottom of the ocean. She stopped in Waco, Texas and found a hotel that was off the interstate. Sleeping most of Sunday away, she awoke to buy a Dallas newspaper and scanned the headlines. Nothing further was mentioned about the Durfrene Row house or about the strange attack on the police officer on the DART train. However, on page two there was a brief paragraph about a man named Samuel Long, who had been murdered in Arlington on Saturday evening. His neck had been broken as well as a multitude of other bones in his body.
Penelope was resting on a stack of oversized pillows against the headboard of a queen-sized bed, feeling remarkably alone, when she skimmed the Metropolitan section. She suddenly sat up straight in bed. Samuel Long. Sammy. She dropped the paper to her lap.
Sammy was dead. And Penelope had three guesses to figure out who or what had done the deed. But not only that, she had stolen his ‘Bird and left it wrecked and smoking in the parking lot of Cedars on the Ridge. Then she had taken off in another stolen car before the police could arrive. She didn’t even know how Frank the security guard was doing.
After sleeping for extended hours and dreaming about coyotes howling just outside her door, she didn’t want to call to find out. She also didn’t want to call Freddy’s cell phone to try and explain to him what was happening either. That fact was enforced by the immediate presence of her mother in the background while talking to Freddy. Jessica wouldn’t sit mildly by while her daughter was in trouble.
Penelope looked at the plain brown wallet sitting on the nightstand next to her bottle of Diet Coke. It was Will’s wallet. He knew about the diamond. He knew about the things that were after her. But what did she know about him? Nothing.
Jeremy’s cell phone was on the end of the bed. It hadn’t rung all day. All of Jeremy’s friends and contacts had probably given up on him until he resurfaced. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d vanished for a month or more.
She stared at it. She wasn’t helpless. Perhaps Dr. William Jonathon Littlesoldier wouldn’t be listed in Who’s Who, but he did have a name and an address and he could be pinned down.
The kid on Third Street who sold cloned cell phones also sold information. She didn’t need it often because she had other more trustworthy contacts. But most of those contacts came through Jeremy’s friends and she didn’t want to make convoluted explanations that sounded like bullshit before she could even concoct them.
One hand grabbed the phone before she could change her mind. She punched in the number and listened to the rings on the other end. If he was with a customer it would roll over to his voicemail. His name was Artemis, and he had blonde hair that was a shade darker than white. Penelope knew he was saving his cash to attend an Ivy League school back East and he liked to go scuba diving when he could. Specifically, he was smart enough to avoid the cops, and he wasn’t any older than sixteen. He had also been reliable in the past.
“Speak to me,” he answered suddenly.
Penelope took a breath. “It’s Pen,” she said. “I buy…stuff from you, from time to time.”
Artemis was silent. Then he said, “Well, I sell some…stuff, from time to time. It’s true.”
“I need something a little different.”
“Ro-kay,” Artemis replied cheerfully. “You know I got to get back home in just a bit. Mom’s going to be pissed if I miss my eight o’clock curfew.”
“There’s a guy I need to know about,” Penelope said carefully.
“A guy,” he said doubtfully. “I know someone who knows about…guys. But the cost might go up depending on what you want to know. For example, if you want an address or a profession or other…stuff on him, then the cost depends on the level of detail.” What Artemis was saying was that if she wanted a social security number or an active credit card number to steal his identity or some such thing, then the cost was going to be higher.
“I need to know about his background,” Penelope said. “Oh, let’s say, whether he has an official capacity in the metroplex. You savvy?”
“I savvy, bwana,” Artemis said. “Give me a name. I’ll call you back.”
“I have a new number,” she said after giving him Will’s full name. She repeated the number to Jeremy’s cell phone.
“Let me guess, you’ll pay me later,” Artemis said with a hint of amusement.
“Well, I know you’re not big on credit, but I’ve never stiffed you,” Penelope gritted.
“Okay, but Pen I gotta say, you’re lucky you’re talking to me,” he said quickly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the police are looking for a thief. A girl thief. White girl. Maybe blonde hair. About your height and size. They say she’s involved with a police officer getting hurt on the DART Friday night. I thought of you but I said, ‘Naw, not Pen.’ But you only buy…stuff from me just before you do a job, so I thought, ‘Well, maybe Pen.’ I know some of the local cops are actively going to pawns to see what’s been going on.” Artemis trailed off with a consolatory sigh.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Penelope said curtly. “Call me.” Then she hung up.
The police were after her. She decided that Officer McAdams must be conscious once again and able to relay a description of her. And perhaps the terrified people on the train had managed to come up
with a coherent account of the situation, no matter how loony it probably sounded. Of course there were the kayaking, drunken shrinks who saw more than they should.
The creep was the closest she’d ever come to getting caught. It was the closest that she had ever come to having her bones pounded into dusty bits by something out of a Twilight Zone episode. And understandably Penelope was a little short on immediate solutions.
She took a swig of Diet Coke and reached for an Oreo. There was nothing like a black cookie crumb-covered smile to make the bad seem bearable. Jessica was away. Freddy would have seen to that, even if it meant that he would have had to carry her away kicking and screaming over one of his shoulders. Now there was only herself to consider.
The situation was never going to go away. They had proven it. She could only go after the one person who knew something more about it than she did. Will.
Penelope stuffed the cookie into her mouth, and her eyes dropped to the back of the Metropolitan section. There was a small article there about a man’s body that had been pulled out of the Trinity River early Sunday morning. There had been nothing to identify him, so the police were asking for assistance. There was a brief description of the body. It was an African American male in his middle to late twenties. He was about six feet two inches tall and weighed two hundred twenty pounds. His hair was short and black. His eyes were brown. There was a tattoo on his right bicep of a naval symbol. It was the U.S.S. Kitty Hawk’s insignia.
Penelope stared at the little black typeset words as if they would fade away by themselves if she looked long enough. She had seen the tattoo before. The man who had it had shown it to her on at least three occasions, making the ship move with the rippling of his biceps. The half-eaten Oreo was a soggy lump of sugar in her mouth.
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