One rainy night, p.14
One Rainy Night, page 14
The kid flipped high as the bumper knocked out his iegs. He lost his machete. His ballcap spun away. He missed the axe handle. He bounced on the hood and tumbled. His knee thumped the windshield. Then he flew upward out of sight. Trev heard some rough bumps on the roof before the kid toppled off.
‘I can’t stand it!’ Francine blurted.
And Lisa said, ‘Maybe it’s Maxwell’s grandpa.’
‘What?’ Trev gasped.
‘He’s some kind of a witch doctor. Maybe this is his revenge, or something.’
Ridiculous, Trev thought.
But what mad, poetic justice if it were true. White boys murder a black kid. Next thing you know, down comes the rain making everyone black and kill-crazy. Revenge in spades.
But black magic? Come on, Trev.
‘What do you know about him?’
‘Just that Maxwell . . . he wouldn’t ever let me meet his family. He said they wouldn’t like him going out with someone like me . . . you know, someone white. But especially his grandfather. He said the old man might do something weird if he ever found out. Like put a hex on me. I told Max I wasn’t afraid of any hexes, but he said I oughta be. He said his grandpa was really into that stuff, and it worked. He even told me some stories about how his grandpa got back at enemies, and stuff. How he’d cripple them up, or make them go crazy, or even die. Like there was a doctor back on the island they came from, and he gave Max’s grandmother some drug she was allergic to and she died. So Max’s grandpa put a spell on him, and the doctor went crazy and carved up his whole family, his wife and kids and everything, and when they found him he was still alive but he’d cut off both his own feet and his left hand, and even his you-know-what. . .his dick. And he’d poked out both his eyes.’
‘Oh, wonderful,’ Francine said, her voice high and shaky.
‘I mean, Max really believed his grandpa made the doctor do all that. And he was afraid the guy might hurt me if he found out we were going together. It kind of scared me, you know?’
‘So you never met the grandfather?’ Trev asked.
‘I never met anyone in his family. Except his sister. She’s in the tenth grade. She promised not to tell onus.’
‘Did Max ever mention black rain?’
‘No. Huh-uh. I would’ve caught on right away, if he ever had. It was just, you know, when you said that about the Devil. I never even thought about Max’s grandpa till you said that. It just sort of clicked, you know? That maybe this is all some kind of a curse and maybe the old guy’s making it happen.’
‘That’s insane,’ Francine said.
‘What isn’t?’ Trev muttered.
‘You don’t honestly think . . .’
‘It makes as much sense as anything else,’ he said, it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The motive, anyway.
I’m not saying a guy could actually do this. But if he could, it’d be a damn nifty way to get back at the town he blames for murdering his grandson.’
‘Oh, for godsake.’
‘I know it sounds weird, Mom. But what if he is doing it? You know? And what if there’s a way to make him stop? Maybe the rain’ll end.’
‘Did the grandfather live with the family?’ Trev asked.
‘Yeah. He had his own room in their house.’
Trev knew that he’d seen the address on reports. Fairmont Avenue, but he couldn’t recall the house number.
Near the north end of town, and he was heading south.
‘Do you know the address?’ he asked.
‘Huh-uh.’
Trev made a U-turn.
‘Our house is that way,’ Francine protested.
‘First things first,’ Trev said. His headbeams swept past the tattered body of a man bound to a lamp post. Like Chidi tied to the goalpost standard. This guy was black, but hadn’t been born that way. And hadn’t been burnt. He had a gaping pit below his ribcage.
‘You can’t do this!’
‘Mom!’
‘Damn it! It’s a waste of time, and you’ll get us all killed.’
‘Maybe I can end the whole mess.’
It might be too late for Maureen, he thought.
But if Chidi’s grandfather was responsible, and if Trev could get to the house, there was a chance he could put a stop to the downpour and save lives.
‘You can’t seriously believe some damn witch doctor’s behind all this.’
‘Of course I don’t,’ Trev said. ‘But I’m going to proceed as if I do. Lisa, do you know if they’re listed in the phone directory?’
‘Yeah, they are.’
‘I’ll have to make one more stop, then we’ll head straight out to Chidi’s place and see what the bastard’s up to.’
11
Soon after John joined the others in the booth, Peggy brought plates of top sirloin, baked potato and green beans. She explained that the menu had been dispensed with, and the meal was complementary.
Lynn and Carol asked for fresh margaritas.
John and Steve exchanged glances. ‘I’m fine,’ John told the waitress. He was halfway through his second Mai Tai. A third would be nice, but it would also be enough to impair his faculties.
‘I’ll pass on another one, too,’ Steve said. After Peggy left, he added, ‘Hate to get busted for DWI on the way home.’
Lynn laughed. ‘I’d say that’s the least of your worries.’
‘What about going home?’ Carol asked.
‘Too dangerous,’ Steve said, and started cutting into his meat.
‘If I could think of any way to get home,’ John said, ‘we wouldn’t be here. I’d give anything to be with Kara right now. But I just don’t see how it can be done. Maybe I’d be able to handle whoever’s outside, I don’t know. I don’t know how many there are, or how they might be armed. But the problem’s the rain. If I get wet, it’s all over. I’d be just like them. Hell, I might just turn around and come in to nail you people.’
‘We just have to wait for the rain to stop,’ Steve said.
‘Eat, drink and be merry,’ Carol muttered. She tongued some salt off the rim of her glass. ‘I hope Peggy hurries with those drinks. If I’m gonna die, I want to be good and sloshed.’
‘Nobody’s going to die,’ Lynn told her.
‘Tell that to those poor slobs in the freezer. I’m sure the news would cheer them up considerably.’
‘We’re all going to be fine,’ Lynn persisted. John reached around her back and caressed her shoulder.
You tell them, honey.
‘Before we know it,’ she said, ‘the rain’ll let up and we’ll all go on home and this’ll be just like a bad dream. Isn’t that right, honey?’
‘Yep.’
‘Bullshit,’ Carol said.
‘Eat your food,’ Steve told her.
‘We’re perfectly safe in here,’ Lynn said. ‘Look how many of us there are. And we’ve got plenty of sharp cutlery if push comes to shove.’ She twirled her serrated knife in front of her eyes.
‘A lot of good steak knives’ll be against a horde of raving lunatics.’
‘What horde?’ Lynn said. ‘There’s no point in blowing things out of proportion. One person’s knocking on the door. For all we know, nobody else is out there.’
‘Maybe half the town’s out there,’ Carol said.
‘We could open the door and see,’ Steve suggested.
‘Oh, great. Why don’t you just go and do that.’
‘As long as they’re making no serious effort to break in,’ John said, ‘it really doesn’t matter a whole lot. We’re safe right now. I think we should go ahead and eat, and try not to worry about it.’
‘Yeah, sure.’ She gave him a sullen look, then lowered her head and began to cut her meat.
Peggy showed up with the drinks.
‘All quiet on the western front?’ John asked her.
‘Some nut’s still pounding on the front door. Other than that, not much is going on. A lot of folks are getting pretty polluted. And there’s a bunch in the bar I think are getting ready to abandon ship.’
‘Don’t they know what’ll happen to them?’ Steve asked.
‘They just want to go home.’ Peggy shrugged, then carried her tray to the next booth and set a martini in front of Chester Benton’s widow. Cassy, still sitting with her, met John’s gaze and smiled slightly.
He returned the smile, then looked down at his plate. Don’t think about her, he told himself, and pictured her sprawled on the floor, the doctor cutting her laces, spreading her bodice.
Knock it off!
‘What about those people in the bar?’ Steve asked.
John took a bite of beef. ‘What about them?’
‘Maybe we ought to see what they’re up to.’
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Carol said. ‘What if they’ve figured out how to get out of here?’
‘It’s worth a check,’ Steve said.
‘Should probably try to talk them out of it,’ John muttered. He didn’t want to get involved. Let them do what they want, he thought. If they’re fools enough to go outside . . . It’s not my job to save people from their own stupidity. But they get wet, and they might be our problem.
He remembered the guy in the men’s room. Andy. After calling home, he’d noticed Andy and the girl, Tina, holding hands across their small table in the cocktail lounge. They’d looked like a couple of kids, helpless and terrified.
What are their chances if they go outside?
He took one more bite, then looked up at Steve. ‘I think I’d better go on over there and . . .’
The window beside the next table exploded. Cassy twisted away from the flying glass, squeezing her eyes shut and hurling up an arm to shield her face. The Benton woman, closer to the window, squealed and lurched sideways against her. John realized she must’ve looked toward the source of the sudden noise. Her face was a mask of raw rips, studded with shards. A triangle of glass jutted from her left eye.
Lynn grabbed John’s sleeve and yelled ‘Don’t!’ as he lunged from the booth and a fat bald man, shiny black, leaned through the broken window and caved in the woman’s forehead with a tire iron. John pulled free. He didn’t bother to dodge Steve, who was leaning out and starting to rise. He shouldered him out of the way, rushed past the empty bench and table, clutched Cassy’s arm and tugged her from the booth. She came up brushing against him, gasping warm breath against his face.
The man in the window grabbed a handful of Mrs Benton’s hair and dragged her limp body toward him.
At least he’s not coming in, John thought.
Taking her. Taking her out with him.
John swung Cassy away. He sprang onto the cushioned bench. It was soft and springy under his shoes. He took only one step before the man hurled the tire iron at him, sidearm. He shot up a hand to block it. The bar struck his wrist. Instead of bouncing away, it took a quick flip around his wrist and smashed him across the brow.
A strobe flashed behind his eyes.
He fought to stay on his feet.
Gotta stop him!
It didn’t matter that the woman was probably dead. Didn’t matter much, anyway. Dead or not, John didn’t want the bastard to take her.
He brought up his knife hand. The knife seemed to be missing. He stared at his empty hand. He was sure he’d had the knife a second ago.
He looked up.
He couldn’t see much. The lights were just too faint. But he could see enough to realize the guy was using both hands, now. The woman’s head was clamped between them, and he was pulling her toward the window.
John knew he was about to go down.
He teetered backward.
NO!
He waved his arm, struggling against gravity and unconsciousness, and managed to correct the direction of his fall.
He tumbled forward.
Onto the moving body. It dropped, trapped against the seat and wall. Some glass in the woman’s face cut John’s cheek.
He wrapped his arms around her.
You won’t get her now!
He was vaguely aware of commotion around him. There were shouts. The edge of the table shook against his side. More sounds of breaking glass. Then people were pulling at his legs. He held onto the woman. Together, they slid over the cushion. Her legs went out from under him. His knees followed, jabbing into them, and he murmured ‘Sorry’ and tried to get off her.
He released her. Then he was carried backward and lowered to the floor.
Someone bending over him. Lynn.
‘Oh, you idiot. You fool.’
‘I didn’t . . . let ’im get her.’
‘No, you didn’t. God, John.’
He tried to sit up, but she pushed him down, pinned his shoulders to the floor. ‘Just stay put, honey.’
Then Cassy was on her knees beside him, patting his face with a cloth napkin.
‘Are you OK?’
‘He took an awful knock on the head,’ Lynn said.
Lynn stopped holding him down. She stroked his hair while Cassy dabbed at the cuts.
‘I keep some bandages in my purse,’ Lynn said. ‘Stay with him?’
‘Sure.’
When she was gone, Cassy said, ‘You keep coming to my rescue.’
‘Glad to help,’ he said. He noticed the way the blazer drooped, closed only by its two low buttons. He glimpsed her shadowy right breast, then forced his eyes away from it and watched the way her short, glossy bangs swayed above his face.
‘Come away from there!’ Carol snapped.
‘Jesus!’
‘Steve!’
‘Where’d they all come from?’
‘How many?’ asked a voice John didn’t recognize.
‘I don’t know. A bunch.’
‘Let’s block up that window.’
12
Trev parked in the alley near O’Casey’s. His headbeams lit the black heap of the axeman. He shut them off, killed the engine and stuffed the keys into his jeans.
‘Hurry, OK?’ Lisa said.
‘I’ll be as fast as I can.’ He grabbed the shotgun and climbed out. The rain came down on him. More of a soft shower than a downpour.
Making his way toward the street, he avoided puddles. Though he hadn’t checked the bottoms of his feet, he was sure that his earlier walking must’ve worn holes in the plastic under his shoes. The thick rubber soles of his sneakers should keep his feet dry so long as he didn’t step in anything much deeper than half an inch.
I keep wandering around in this stuff, he thought, and I’m bound to get wet.
At the front of the alley, he checked both ways. A body on the sidewalk to the right, several yards away. At the corner, someone darted by and vanished behind a parked car. But that was a good distance away. Trev didn’t think he’d been seen.
He turned to the left. The sidewalk ahead looked clear. He walked quickly toward O’Casey’s.
He knew what he would find in there. He didn’t want to see those bodies again. Probably every shop on Third Street had a telephone directory. He could’ve gone into any one of them to look up Chidi’s address. But he didn’t know what he would find in other places. He didn’t want surprises.
Also, the alley seemed like a good place to leave the car. The women had been safe there, last time.
He stepped under O’Casey’s awning and paused, glad to be out of the rain. He took deep breaths. Though he hadn’t exerted himself, he felt winded.
Something trickled down the back of his neck.
A chill crawled up his spine.
Oh, my God!
Another droplet ran down his neck.
And he realized it was only sweat. He let out a quiet, shaky laugh, and hurried into the restaurant.
He scanned the bodies. They looked the same. He headed for the kitchen, stepping around the bodies and broken glass, being careful not to slip on the wet floor. As he walked, more sweat trickled down his neck and face.
He’d probably been sweating like a hog, all along, and simply hadn’t paid attention to it. The hair at the back of his head was dripping. The garbage bags felt slick and greasy against his skin. Only his socks and underwear kept him from being completely encased by the slimy, clinging plastic. And they were sodden.
He had a sudden urge to strip free of the damned wrappings. Feel the cool air on his body. Strip down to his briefs and stay here. Have some beer. Throw together a pizza. Forget about going back out in the rain.
The body of the woman sprawled across the rear table put a quick end to that.
She looked so much like Maureen.
He stopped beside her drooping head, blinked sweat out of his eyes, and studied her hair until he spotted some blonde.
What if Maureen had bleached her hair?
Trev considered getting a wet rag and cleaning the gore from her pubic hair, just to make sure it wasn’t auburn.
Don’t get crazy. That isn’t her.
Stop wasting time.
He stepped into the kitchen, removed Patterson’s hat and slipped the hood off his head. The fresh air felt wonderful. He set them and the shotgun on the counter.
He glanced at Liam. His friend. Maureen’s father.
The poor girl. Both her parents gone.
She might be dead, herself, by now.
Trev turned away quickly and hurried to the telephone. He threw open the directory. His plastic mitten dripped dark liquid onto the pages as he flipped to the Cs.
Chidi, Clarence was at 4538 Fairmont. He memorized the address, then searched through the Os until he found Liam’s number again. He snatched up the handset, picked up the same pen he’d used before to punch in the number, and jabbed the keys.
He heard the quiet ringing.
Answer it, answer it, answer it! Come on, Maureen!
Maybe she’d been in the shower, last time.
It rang eleven times. Then it was picked up.
Oh, thank God. ‘Maureen?’
No answer.
‘Maureen? It’s Trevor Hudson.’
‘Hi, Trevor.’ A woman’s voice, low and husky, and not Maureen.
‘Who is this?’
‘Maureen.’
The skin on the back of his neck prickled.
‘Come on over, honey. It’s lonesome here. We’ll have us a party.’
He closed his eyes. He felt as if his breath were being squeezed out. ‘You’re all alone there?’
‘I can’t stand it!’ Francine blurted.
And Lisa said, ‘Maybe it’s Maxwell’s grandpa.’
‘What?’ Trev gasped.
‘He’s some kind of a witch doctor. Maybe this is his revenge, or something.’
Ridiculous, Trev thought.
But what mad, poetic justice if it were true. White boys murder a black kid. Next thing you know, down comes the rain making everyone black and kill-crazy. Revenge in spades.
But black magic? Come on, Trev.
‘What do you know about him?’
‘Just that Maxwell . . . he wouldn’t ever let me meet his family. He said they wouldn’t like him going out with someone like me . . . you know, someone white. But especially his grandfather. He said the old man might do something weird if he ever found out. Like put a hex on me. I told Max I wasn’t afraid of any hexes, but he said I oughta be. He said his grandpa was really into that stuff, and it worked. He even told me some stories about how his grandpa got back at enemies, and stuff. How he’d cripple them up, or make them go crazy, or even die. Like there was a doctor back on the island they came from, and he gave Max’s grandmother some drug she was allergic to and she died. So Max’s grandpa put a spell on him, and the doctor went crazy and carved up his whole family, his wife and kids and everything, and when they found him he was still alive but he’d cut off both his own feet and his left hand, and even his you-know-what. . .his dick. And he’d poked out both his eyes.’
‘Oh, wonderful,’ Francine said, her voice high and shaky.
‘I mean, Max really believed his grandpa made the doctor do all that. And he was afraid the guy might hurt me if he found out we were going together. It kind of scared me, you know?’
‘So you never met the grandfather?’ Trev asked.
‘I never met anyone in his family. Except his sister. She’s in the tenth grade. She promised not to tell onus.’
‘Did Max ever mention black rain?’
‘No. Huh-uh. I would’ve caught on right away, if he ever had. It was just, you know, when you said that about the Devil. I never even thought about Max’s grandpa till you said that. It just sort of clicked, you know? That maybe this is all some kind of a curse and maybe the old guy’s making it happen.’
‘That’s insane,’ Francine said.
‘What isn’t?’ Trev muttered.
‘You don’t honestly think . . .’
‘It makes as much sense as anything else,’ he said, it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The motive, anyway.
I’m not saying a guy could actually do this. But if he could, it’d be a damn nifty way to get back at the town he blames for murdering his grandson.’
‘Oh, for godsake.’
‘I know it sounds weird, Mom. But what if he is doing it? You know? And what if there’s a way to make him stop? Maybe the rain’ll end.’
‘Did the grandfather live with the family?’ Trev asked.
‘Yeah. He had his own room in their house.’
Trev knew that he’d seen the address on reports. Fairmont Avenue, but he couldn’t recall the house number.
Near the north end of town, and he was heading south.
‘Do you know the address?’ he asked.
‘Huh-uh.’
Trev made a U-turn.
‘Our house is that way,’ Francine protested.
‘First things first,’ Trev said. His headbeams swept past the tattered body of a man bound to a lamp post. Like Chidi tied to the goalpost standard. This guy was black, but hadn’t been born that way. And hadn’t been burnt. He had a gaping pit below his ribcage.
‘You can’t do this!’
‘Mom!’
‘Damn it! It’s a waste of time, and you’ll get us all killed.’
‘Maybe I can end the whole mess.’
It might be too late for Maureen, he thought.
But if Chidi’s grandfather was responsible, and if Trev could get to the house, there was a chance he could put a stop to the downpour and save lives.
‘You can’t seriously believe some damn witch doctor’s behind all this.’
‘Of course I don’t,’ Trev said. ‘But I’m going to proceed as if I do. Lisa, do you know if they’re listed in the phone directory?’
‘Yeah, they are.’
‘I’ll have to make one more stop, then we’ll head straight out to Chidi’s place and see what the bastard’s up to.’
11
Soon after John joined the others in the booth, Peggy brought plates of top sirloin, baked potato and green beans. She explained that the menu had been dispensed with, and the meal was complementary.
Lynn and Carol asked for fresh margaritas.
John and Steve exchanged glances. ‘I’m fine,’ John told the waitress. He was halfway through his second Mai Tai. A third would be nice, but it would also be enough to impair his faculties.
‘I’ll pass on another one, too,’ Steve said. After Peggy left, he added, ‘Hate to get busted for DWI on the way home.’
Lynn laughed. ‘I’d say that’s the least of your worries.’
‘What about going home?’ Carol asked.
‘Too dangerous,’ Steve said, and started cutting into his meat.
‘If I could think of any way to get home,’ John said, ‘we wouldn’t be here. I’d give anything to be with Kara right now. But I just don’t see how it can be done. Maybe I’d be able to handle whoever’s outside, I don’t know. I don’t know how many there are, or how they might be armed. But the problem’s the rain. If I get wet, it’s all over. I’d be just like them. Hell, I might just turn around and come in to nail you people.’
‘We just have to wait for the rain to stop,’ Steve said.
‘Eat, drink and be merry,’ Carol muttered. She tongued some salt off the rim of her glass. ‘I hope Peggy hurries with those drinks. If I’m gonna die, I want to be good and sloshed.’
‘Nobody’s going to die,’ Lynn told her.
‘Tell that to those poor slobs in the freezer. I’m sure the news would cheer them up considerably.’
‘We’re all going to be fine,’ Lynn persisted. John reached around her back and caressed her shoulder.
You tell them, honey.
‘Before we know it,’ she said, ‘the rain’ll let up and we’ll all go on home and this’ll be just like a bad dream. Isn’t that right, honey?’
‘Yep.’
‘Bullshit,’ Carol said.
‘Eat your food,’ Steve told her.
‘We’re perfectly safe in here,’ Lynn said. ‘Look how many of us there are. And we’ve got plenty of sharp cutlery if push comes to shove.’ She twirled her serrated knife in front of her eyes.
‘A lot of good steak knives’ll be against a horde of raving lunatics.’
‘What horde?’ Lynn said. ‘There’s no point in blowing things out of proportion. One person’s knocking on the door. For all we know, nobody else is out there.’
‘Maybe half the town’s out there,’ Carol said.
‘We could open the door and see,’ Steve suggested.
‘Oh, great. Why don’t you just go and do that.’
‘As long as they’re making no serious effort to break in,’ John said, ‘it really doesn’t matter a whole lot. We’re safe right now. I think we should go ahead and eat, and try not to worry about it.’
‘Yeah, sure.’ She gave him a sullen look, then lowered her head and began to cut her meat.
Peggy showed up with the drinks.
‘All quiet on the western front?’ John asked her.
‘Some nut’s still pounding on the front door. Other than that, not much is going on. A lot of folks are getting pretty polluted. And there’s a bunch in the bar I think are getting ready to abandon ship.’
‘Don’t they know what’ll happen to them?’ Steve asked.
‘They just want to go home.’ Peggy shrugged, then carried her tray to the next booth and set a martini in front of Chester Benton’s widow. Cassy, still sitting with her, met John’s gaze and smiled slightly.
He returned the smile, then looked down at his plate. Don’t think about her, he told himself, and pictured her sprawled on the floor, the doctor cutting her laces, spreading her bodice.
Knock it off!
‘What about those people in the bar?’ Steve asked.
John took a bite of beef. ‘What about them?’
‘Maybe we ought to see what they’re up to.’
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Carol said. ‘What if they’ve figured out how to get out of here?’
‘It’s worth a check,’ Steve said.
‘Should probably try to talk them out of it,’ John muttered. He didn’t want to get involved. Let them do what they want, he thought. If they’re fools enough to go outside . . . It’s not my job to save people from their own stupidity. But they get wet, and they might be our problem.
He remembered the guy in the men’s room. Andy. After calling home, he’d noticed Andy and the girl, Tina, holding hands across their small table in the cocktail lounge. They’d looked like a couple of kids, helpless and terrified.
What are their chances if they go outside?
He took one more bite, then looked up at Steve. ‘I think I’d better go on over there and . . .’
The window beside the next table exploded. Cassy twisted away from the flying glass, squeezing her eyes shut and hurling up an arm to shield her face. The Benton woman, closer to the window, squealed and lurched sideways against her. John realized she must’ve looked toward the source of the sudden noise. Her face was a mask of raw rips, studded with shards. A triangle of glass jutted from her left eye.
Lynn grabbed John’s sleeve and yelled ‘Don’t!’ as he lunged from the booth and a fat bald man, shiny black, leaned through the broken window and caved in the woman’s forehead with a tire iron. John pulled free. He didn’t bother to dodge Steve, who was leaning out and starting to rise. He shouldered him out of the way, rushed past the empty bench and table, clutched Cassy’s arm and tugged her from the booth. She came up brushing against him, gasping warm breath against his face.
The man in the window grabbed a handful of Mrs Benton’s hair and dragged her limp body toward him.
At least he’s not coming in, John thought.
Taking her. Taking her out with him.
John swung Cassy away. He sprang onto the cushioned bench. It was soft and springy under his shoes. He took only one step before the man hurled the tire iron at him, sidearm. He shot up a hand to block it. The bar struck his wrist. Instead of bouncing away, it took a quick flip around his wrist and smashed him across the brow.
A strobe flashed behind his eyes.
He fought to stay on his feet.
Gotta stop him!
It didn’t matter that the woman was probably dead. Didn’t matter much, anyway. Dead or not, John didn’t want the bastard to take her.
He brought up his knife hand. The knife seemed to be missing. He stared at his empty hand. He was sure he’d had the knife a second ago.
He looked up.
He couldn’t see much. The lights were just too faint. But he could see enough to realize the guy was using both hands, now. The woman’s head was clamped between them, and he was pulling her toward the window.
John knew he was about to go down.
He teetered backward.
NO!
He waved his arm, struggling against gravity and unconsciousness, and managed to correct the direction of his fall.
He tumbled forward.
Onto the moving body. It dropped, trapped against the seat and wall. Some glass in the woman’s face cut John’s cheek.
He wrapped his arms around her.
You won’t get her now!
He was vaguely aware of commotion around him. There were shouts. The edge of the table shook against his side. More sounds of breaking glass. Then people were pulling at his legs. He held onto the woman. Together, they slid over the cushion. Her legs went out from under him. His knees followed, jabbing into them, and he murmured ‘Sorry’ and tried to get off her.
He released her. Then he was carried backward and lowered to the floor.
Someone bending over him. Lynn.
‘Oh, you idiot. You fool.’
‘I didn’t . . . let ’im get her.’
‘No, you didn’t. God, John.’
He tried to sit up, but she pushed him down, pinned his shoulders to the floor. ‘Just stay put, honey.’
Then Cassy was on her knees beside him, patting his face with a cloth napkin.
‘Are you OK?’
‘He took an awful knock on the head,’ Lynn said.
Lynn stopped holding him down. She stroked his hair while Cassy dabbed at the cuts.
‘I keep some bandages in my purse,’ Lynn said. ‘Stay with him?’
‘Sure.’
When she was gone, Cassy said, ‘You keep coming to my rescue.’
‘Glad to help,’ he said. He noticed the way the blazer drooped, closed only by its two low buttons. He glimpsed her shadowy right breast, then forced his eyes away from it and watched the way her short, glossy bangs swayed above his face.
‘Come away from there!’ Carol snapped.
‘Jesus!’
‘Steve!’
‘Where’d they all come from?’
‘How many?’ asked a voice John didn’t recognize.
‘I don’t know. A bunch.’
‘Let’s block up that window.’
12
Trev parked in the alley near O’Casey’s. His headbeams lit the black heap of the axeman. He shut them off, killed the engine and stuffed the keys into his jeans.
‘Hurry, OK?’ Lisa said.
‘I’ll be as fast as I can.’ He grabbed the shotgun and climbed out. The rain came down on him. More of a soft shower than a downpour.
Making his way toward the street, he avoided puddles. Though he hadn’t checked the bottoms of his feet, he was sure that his earlier walking must’ve worn holes in the plastic under his shoes. The thick rubber soles of his sneakers should keep his feet dry so long as he didn’t step in anything much deeper than half an inch.
I keep wandering around in this stuff, he thought, and I’m bound to get wet.
At the front of the alley, he checked both ways. A body on the sidewalk to the right, several yards away. At the corner, someone darted by and vanished behind a parked car. But that was a good distance away. Trev didn’t think he’d been seen.
He turned to the left. The sidewalk ahead looked clear. He walked quickly toward O’Casey’s.
He knew what he would find in there. He didn’t want to see those bodies again. Probably every shop on Third Street had a telephone directory. He could’ve gone into any one of them to look up Chidi’s address. But he didn’t know what he would find in other places. He didn’t want surprises.
Also, the alley seemed like a good place to leave the car. The women had been safe there, last time.
He stepped under O’Casey’s awning and paused, glad to be out of the rain. He took deep breaths. Though he hadn’t exerted himself, he felt winded.
Something trickled down the back of his neck.
A chill crawled up his spine.
Oh, my God!
Another droplet ran down his neck.
And he realized it was only sweat. He let out a quiet, shaky laugh, and hurried into the restaurant.
He scanned the bodies. They looked the same. He headed for the kitchen, stepping around the bodies and broken glass, being careful not to slip on the wet floor. As he walked, more sweat trickled down his neck and face.
He’d probably been sweating like a hog, all along, and simply hadn’t paid attention to it. The hair at the back of his head was dripping. The garbage bags felt slick and greasy against his skin. Only his socks and underwear kept him from being completely encased by the slimy, clinging plastic. And they were sodden.
He had a sudden urge to strip free of the damned wrappings. Feel the cool air on his body. Strip down to his briefs and stay here. Have some beer. Throw together a pizza. Forget about going back out in the rain.
The body of the woman sprawled across the rear table put a quick end to that.
She looked so much like Maureen.
He stopped beside her drooping head, blinked sweat out of his eyes, and studied her hair until he spotted some blonde.
What if Maureen had bleached her hair?
Trev considered getting a wet rag and cleaning the gore from her pubic hair, just to make sure it wasn’t auburn.
Don’t get crazy. That isn’t her.
Stop wasting time.
He stepped into the kitchen, removed Patterson’s hat and slipped the hood off his head. The fresh air felt wonderful. He set them and the shotgun on the counter.
He glanced at Liam. His friend. Maureen’s father.
The poor girl. Both her parents gone.
She might be dead, herself, by now.
Trev turned away quickly and hurried to the telephone. He threw open the directory. His plastic mitten dripped dark liquid onto the pages as he flipped to the Cs.
Chidi, Clarence was at 4538 Fairmont. He memorized the address, then searched through the Os until he found Liam’s number again. He snatched up the handset, picked up the same pen he’d used before to punch in the number, and jabbed the keys.
He heard the quiet ringing.
Answer it, answer it, answer it! Come on, Maureen!
Maybe she’d been in the shower, last time.
It rang eleven times. Then it was picked up.
Oh, thank God. ‘Maureen?’
No answer.
‘Maureen? It’s Trevor Hudson.’
‘Hi, Trevor.’ A woman’s voice, low and husky, and not Maureen.
‘Who is this?’
‘Maureen.’
The skin on the back of his neck prickled.
‘Come on over, honey. It’s lonesome here. We’ll have us a party.’
He closed his eyes. He felt as if his breath were being squeezed out. ‘You’re all alone there?’
