“That doesn’t surprise me a bit, Pat. He’s been seeing a number of people.”
“What’s going on in this town, Dan?”
Dan sighed. “Pat ... tell me what Lou had to say to you.”
“All right. Nothing firm was said by him. Goddamn master of double-talk, I guess. Not a damn thing that would stand up in a court of law. But I never felt so threatened. Yes, I have, by God! Down in South America, about ten years ago, while I was working out of New York. The state security police grabbed me and questioned me for several hours; accused me of working for the CIA. I . . .”
Dan smiled. Held up his hand. “You play along with me, Pat. I just got an idea. You’re about to be investigated by the IRS.” He chuckled and glanced at the clock on his desk.
Pat sat straight up in his chair. “I’m about to be what?” he blurted.
Dan laughed. “Just play along, Pat. I promise you I’ll level with you in due time. Just hang in there with me for a time. For right now, just sit still and look very worried.”
“That won’t be too hard, Dan, I am worked!”
Fixing a smile on his face, Dan walked out of his office and over to the coffee urn. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he said, to several deputies and a couple of Taylor’s troopers, “Pat must think the sheriff’s office has a lot of power. He’s being investigated by the IRS and wants me to do something about it.”
The cops grinned at that. All of them thankful it wasn’t them being checked by the IRS.
Dan glanced at his watch, playing it close. “Damn fool told the IRS field agent to meet him in my office. Be here any time, now. I really wish he’d left me out of his personal business.”
“Yeah, Sheriff,” Deputy Ken Pollard said. “The IRS is liable to be on your case next.”
“I heard that.” Dan lifted his eyes as a man and woman entered the building. He recognized the man as Gordon Miller. Gordon was dressed in a rumpled suit and carried a briefcase. Dan knew the eyeglasses were for window-dressing only. The woman with him was short and stocky, her hair worn short. She wore slacks and carried a battered briefcase.
“That’s got to be the IRS people, Sheriff,” Ken said with a nervous laugh. Not at all like him. “They stand out like a sore thumb.”
Exactly what Gordon wanted them to do, Dan thought. He knew full well most IRS agents didn’t stand out any more than anybody else.
“You boys get to work,” Dan told his people. “And be careful.”
Dan suddenly remembered that Ken’s younger brother was bed-ridden, paralyzed from the neck down after a swimming accident years back. The family was not well-off, and would not have been able to manage if it were not for government assistance. And lots of it. Ken would be Dan’s first choice as Lou’s pipeline.
Then he remembered Ken on the phone after they discussed the cat situation, standing around the dispatcher. It began to fit together.
Dan walked to the counter. Gordon fumbled around, spilling half the briefcase’s contents on the floor as he searched for his I.D. He found his I.D. and showed it to Dan.
“I don’t like to be a part of this, Mister Miller,” Dan said. “Mister Leonard is in my office, now. He’s very upset about your visit.”
Gordon picked up on it immediately. “Well, now, this is highly irregular, Sheriff Garrett. But I assure you, you are not under any type of IRS audit. It’s Mister Leonard we wish to speak with.”
Dan knew Pat’s lawyer was out of town, on vacation. He said, “Mister Leonard’s attorney is out of town. Pat wanted me to witness this first meeting. I don’t know why. I’m not even sure it’s legal. And I hope it’s the only meeting.”
Gordon pushed up his glasses. “Highly irregular. But if that is what Mister Leonard wishes. All right,” he said with a shrug.
“Right this way,” Dan said, stepping aside to allow the pair past the counter. He cut his eyes. Ken Pollard was standing just outside the office front door, watching the proceedings.
* * *
“Now, Quinn!” Alice said, pointing her finger at her husband. “I want to know what in the blazes is going on, you ... you ... idiot!”
Quinn sat on the couch, open-mouthed in shock. His wife had never spoken to him like that before. Not in all their years of marriage. The doctor sputtered and stammered a couple of times.
Doctor Harrison looked awfully uncomfortable. He would not meet his wife’s steady gaze.
“Goddamnit, Quinn! ” Alice shouted at him. “Now you’d better tell me the truth this time. And I mean all of it.”
“And that goes in triplicate for you, Bill,” Emily said.
The doctors looked at each other.
“We can’t,” Bill said lamely.
“We were sworn to secrecy,” Quinn added. “It’s a top-secret government matter.”
“Lies!” Alice blared at him.
“Husband of mine,” Emily said, her eyes fixed on Bill. “It’s choice-making time for you. Me, or your secret. Think about it, buddy. ’Cause if those cats that chased us this morning; those cats that killed those kids, is your top secret government matter, you don’t have both oars in the water.”
“Ditto on that from me,” Alice said.
The doctors sighed. Bill said, “We got suckered, Quinn.”
“Yeah,” Quinn said. “First of all, ladies, let me say we made a mistake in going along with Lou Lamotta on this. And I’m going to apologize to this town, if they’ll give me a chance to do so. I’ll start by apologizing to the both of you, right now.”
Alice sat down beside Emily to hear the man out.
* * *
“Veiled threats,” Gordon said, after Pat had told his story. “Lamotta hasn’t changed any.” He clicked off the tiny cassette recorder. He looked at Dan.
Dan was getting some strange vibes from his old friend. Something was just not right about the man; something was not ringing true. Maybe he was wrong, he thought. He hoped he was.
Gordon said, “And you think one of your people is pipelining out of this office to Lou?”
Might as well play it out to the end, Dan thought. He wished those nagging doubts would go away. “Yeah, that’s right. Ken Pollard.” He told them about Ken’s brother.
June laughed and said, “Lou can’t do anything about that fellow’s government assistance. He’s simply running one of his famous bluffs and the guy bought it. Lou and the OSS are powerful, but not that powerful; not nearly as powerful as they would like people to believe. We know their power is waning. A lot of people would like to see the OSS put out of business.”
“That’s dandy,” Dan said. “So would I. But right now, Lou is not my main concern. It’s all these ... well, unexplained—but very real-supernatural occurrences that have me worried.”
Gordon and June looked at each other.
Did a signal pass between them? Dan thought. He felt it did.
Gordon looked back at Dan and said, “You’ve really seen all this, Dan?”
“I’ve seen it. Just as I described it to you.”
Gordon smiled. Funny time for a man to be smiling, Dan thought.
Pat looked both sick and doubtful at Dan’s story. “And you went along with it,” he said accusingly. He shook his head. “Sorry, Dan. I shouldn’t have said that. But I wonder how many more people this Lamotta has coerced?”
“That isn’t important,” Gordon said. He waved that aside. “The hard fact is, buddy,” he said to Dan. “You can’t prove any of it.”
“That’s right,” Dan said. Again, Gordon smiled. “And I’d come off looking like the world’s biggest fool if I attempted to blow the story.”
“That is correct, Sheriff,” June said. She had a small smile on her lips.
What the hell is with these two? Dan thought.
“But the citizens of this county are in danger! ” Pat protested. “Not only the people of Ruger, but the whole state. We can’t just sit here and do nothing. That is,” he qualified that, “providing I believe all this . . . monster stuff.
”
“Believe it, Pat,” Dan said. “Eddie Brown and Mickey Reynolds and Jimmy and Al and Denise and Bowie are no longer a part of the human race. I’m numb. I should be running around shrieking; but it’s so horrible, I suppose my mind has blocked out part of it. I saw the cats kill Trooper Forbes. I saw Lou’s agent being devoured by that . . . that thing in the hole. I saw Lou feed the body of the man he shot into that hole; heard the body being eaten. I saw the cats attack. I saw what plain ordinary house cats did to those kids.” He touched the pocket where he had put the piece of paper Goodson had given him.
Gordon’s eyes followed the gesture. “What are you thinking, Dan?”
“About calling in some help.”
“Who?” Pat asked.
Dan decided to hedge his bets. “A priest from up in Washington.”
June laughed. And Dan didn’t like the sound of the laughter. “Mumbo-jumbo,” she said. “Superstitious hogwash.”
“I agree,” Pat said. “Dan, you’re not Catholic. You can’t believe in all that exorcism business.”
“Washington, eh?” Gordon asked.
“That’s right.”
“Called him yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, wait awhile on that, Dan. You probably won’t need him.”
“Whatever you say, Gordon.”
Dan didn’t know whom to trust.
9
“I got an idea, Kenny,” Mille said.
The young man forced a smile. “I am certainly in a position to be open to suggestion.”
They were being held in a small room at the back of the main terminal building. A very dirty room. One window, set up high, near the high ceiling. It was barred. The door was wooden, with a sheet metal covering front and back. The room had a tiny bathroom with only a ragged curtain for a door.
“I wonder what they did with our luggage?” Mille asked.
“Is that your idea?”
“No. I just was wondering. They must not be planning on keeping us for very long.”
“They’re going to kill us, Mille,” Kenny said. “Wise up and think about it. They’re not going to face kidnapping charges. And they know if we’re released, we’d sure file charges against them. They’re totally ruthless. We’ve had it.”
“All the more reason for us to be planning a way out of this place, right?”
“I’m still listening.”
“The lock on that door is weak. I’ve seen you pick better locks. Can you pick that one?”
“I’ve already thought of that. Sure, I could pick it. So what? They’ve got guards outside.”
“One guard, Kenny. And along three o’clock in the morning, I’ll give you odds he’ll be sleeping.”
“The others outside the building won’t be sleeping.”
“Do we have a choice, Kenny?”
“No. So let’s hear your plan.”
* * *
The severed arm was now covered with maggot-like worms. They were growing faster and faster, and breeding with each other as soon as they plopped to the floor. There was no place left for them to hide in the room. They covered the floor, squirming and hunching and wriggling about. Ankle deep. And still more were dropping from the infected arm, falling onto the others. The worms were a mottled white/ gray, as thick as a big man’s thumb. With very sharp little teeth.
And they were very hungry.
They had devoured their weaker brothers and sisters; eaten all the carpet; the insulation off the wiring; the plastic and leather and cloth of anything they could find in the room. But they could not escape from the room.
They began squeaking in anger.
Outside the trailer, the afternoon was waning, the sun now dipping into the western horizon. A guard stopped, not sure of what he thought he’d just heard. He took another step, then stopped and turned around. There was that sound again. A squeaking sort of sound. A lot of things squeaking. But what the hell was it?
He stepped closer to the trailer. Coming from in there, he thought. And there wasn’t supposed to be anything in there. Not that he knew of. Just that severed arm was all, and that sure as hell wasn’t squeaking.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The squeaking was much louder. And . . . the sounds of something moving, he thought, sensed. Yeah, there it was. Definitely not supposed to be anything moving in this trailer. He closed the door, the door locking automatically, and began investigating all the rooms. He’d find out what it was.
* * *
By the bubbling pool that had claimed one life and the carcass of the man Lou had shot, an OSS guard squatted and stared at the foul-smelling liquid. He was a safe and respectable distance away. At least fifteen feet. No way he’d get any closer to that mess.
Whispering came softly from beneath the bubbling liquid.
The man cut his eyes. Whispering?
The whispering became a bit louder. The agent moved a few feet closer.
“Help me,” the words came from the pool of red-colored liquid. “Please help me, Wally.”
Wally’s eyes widened in shock. That was Randall’s voice. But Randall was dead!
“No,” the voice said, louder. “No, I’m not. Wally, please help me.” The voice was stronger. “Please. I don’t have any arms, Wally.”
Wally knew that for a flat-out fact. He’d seen the arms body-bagged. He inched closer to the pleading voice of Randall.
The voice whispered again. But this time the words were too low for Wally to understand. He moved closer.
“Randall? Randall? Is that really you down there?”
“Yes.”
Wally inched closer. “Really?” Something was wrong with Wally’s mind. He couldn’t think straight. Kind of like he’d had one drink too many.
“Help me, Wally. Please get me out.”
“Get you out?” Wally said. “But, you’re dead!” He looked around him. Felt like a fool.
“No. Bad hurt. Please, Wally. Help me. Get me out of this awful place.”
The words got to Wally. He laid down his M-16. “Okay, Randall.” He moved to the lip of the hole. “What can I do?”
He stopped abruptly as his head suddenly cleared. He looked around him. “This must be a trick. There is no way for Randall to be alive.”
“Yes, it is,” Randall’s voice came out of the bubbling pool, a chuckling sound close behind the words. A dark, clawed hand reached out and clamped around Wally’s ankle.
Wally began screaming.
* * *
In the high school basement, Mickey Reynolds looked at the ever-widening crack in the concrete floor. The red-colored fluid now covered the entire basement floor where he squatted with his companion, the cat.
Gazing down into the crack, Mickey could see eyes staring back at him.
Mickey grunted. The eyes blinked in understanding. He grunted again.
The creature beneath the floor spoke to him. “It is almost time. Only a few more hours.”
Mickey knew that voice.
He should.
It was his.
* * *
“What a despicable place for my rebirth,” the voice rose out of the bubbling foulness.
Eddie Brown nodded his animal head. He didn’t know what the creature meant; his mind could no longer comprehend human thoughts.
“A church,” the voice spoke from the stinking blood.
Eddie grunted.
The old blood covered the basement floor. The crack had widened to about ten inches across. What had once been Eddie Brown could see eyes looking at him from out of the liquid.
“Only a few more hours,” the familiar voice spoke. “Just after noon tomorrow.”
Eddie nodded. That voice calmed him. He knew that voice. Trusted it.
It was his own.
* * *
In the old service station/motel, the Old One was now able to get its head out of the wet, slimy crack in the floor. It looked at Betty and her kids.
“Can I help?” she asked.
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“No,” the voice sprang from the wide, ugly mouth. “I must do it myself. Soon it will be over. By noon of tomorrow.”
She knew that voice, oddly feminine-sounding. But she couldn’t quite place it.
It was her voice.
* * *
Anya and Pet sat by a dusty window and watched a man and a woman park their truck and get out. They went into the house, returning in a moment to carry in their suitcases. A small dog ran around the yard, barking. The man told the little dog to shut up.
“They must not know of our presence until all the Old Ones have rebirthed,” Anya said. “Warn our friends not to attack.”
The cat blinked and trotted off.
* * *
“I say we pull all our people in and plan an attack for tonight,” Dan said. “We can’t wait any longer. The public must be warned of what’s facing them. We tell the people to stay inside. We could coordinate the attack on the terminal with a charge of dynamite down that goddamned hole.”
“You haven’t been listening, Dan,” Gordon said. It had reached the point where Dan thought the man’s voice sounded oily. “I told you, we have to see this matter through. Those orders come from the top.”
Dan didn’t believe that and said as much-bluntly.
Gordon shrugged it off. “Dan, would you like to see this county grow?”
Dan blinked and stared at the man, not understanding what that had to do with their present situation. “What kind moronic question is that?”
“Would you?” Gordon said.
“As a lawman, I wouldn’t. Not without more personnel. As a citizen, of course I’d like to see it grow. What are you driving at, Gordon?”
“A large industrial complex built right outside this town. Employing up to a thousand people.”
“Drop the other shoe, Gordon,” Dan said, disgust in his voice. He knew what the other shoe would contain. Another pack of lies.
“You might not like it, Dan.”
“I’m sure I won’t.”
“You see this thing through, without spilling it to the national press, or to the residents of this county, and I place in the proper hands a signed, legal document attesting to the fact that a certain high-tech industry will begin construction on a large plant immediately. Others to follow.”
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