Monster

by Christopher Pike

  “Then what am I supposed to do?” Angela asked.

  “I don't know if anything can be done.”

  “Because Jim is still alive? Because he's still on the loose?”

  Mary nodded gravely. “Yes. If he made a couple of partners, I don't know why he couldn't make another two. Or thousands, for that matter.”

  “Now the world's in danger of being taken over, is that it?”

  Mary nodded again. “What I wanted to say a moment ago and didn't was that the day before the party I saw our happy threesome talking with Carol McFarland and Larry Zurer.”

  “Carol and Larry are monsters now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why didn't you kill them as well? They were at party.”

  “I wasn't sure they had changed. Strange as it may sound, Angie, I don't just go around shooting people because I feel like it.”

  “All right, let's pretend for a moment that everything you say is true. I don't believe it is, but let's say I do. What happened to these people that changed them?”

  “I don't know,” Mary said.

  “But you must have an idea.”

  “I don't,” Mary said. “But if Carol and Larry have become like the others, then it's an interesting coincidence. Carol's a cheerleader. Larry's on the football team.”

  “Why don't you tell Lieutenant Nguyen your story?”

  “What for? You know me, and you don't believe me. What are the chances he will?”

  “Nguyen thinks it might be a bad idea for your lawyer to try to get you out on bail. He fears Todd and Kathy's families might come after you.”

  Mary waved away the suggestion. “They won't do anything to me. Jim's the one who'll try to get me.”

  “Will you try to get out?” Angela asked.

  “I don't know if I should answer that question.”

  “The answer is yes. But I suppose Nguyen knows that already, so I guess I don't have to worry about it.”

  “Personally, I think you have plenty to worry about,” Mary said.

  “Because the world is about to be overrun by aliens?”

  “I don't know if they're alien. I don't know if they have the strength to overrun the world. But I have no doubt that they'll take over Point in the near future.”

  Angela glanced at her watch. “Is there anything else you want to add to your story by way of proof?”

  “Two more points. You were there last night. You'll remember how Jim was on the second floor when I shot Todd and Kathy. You'll remember how he immediately realized that I'd go after him next.”

  “What does that prove?” Angela asked.

  “Nothing in and of itself. But it's interesting that he knew he was to be next. You should see the significance. Then there was the way he dived out the bedroom window on to the roof, dropped twelve feet to the ground, and dashed into the field without breaking stride.”

  “I would dive out a window if someone was coming after me with a shotgun.”

  “But you'd bleed,” Mary said. “You'd get hurt.”

  “You hurt Jim when you shot him in the leg. I'm sure he bled.”

  “I wonder how badly I hurt him.”

  “I’ll ask him.” Angela started to stand. “He's here at the station.”

  Mary reached over and grabbed her arm. Her eyes were wide, scared. “Stay away from him,” she said, a note of pleading in her voice. “He's dangerous. Promise me you will.”

  “I rarely see Jim I don't think it'll be a problem.”

  “But he'll know we talked. He might come after you.”

  Angela reached down and removed Mary's hand from her arm. “I'm capable of taking care of myself.”

  Mary sat back and smiled sadly. “That’s what I thought, too.”

  Angela didn't know what to say. She told Mary she’d talk to her soon and left the room, leaving Mary chained to the chair. How sad, she thought. Mary had had so much potential. What a waste of a life. Angela hoped the court saw fit to place her in the hands of a competent psychiatrist rather than behind strong bars.

  Nguyen met her in the hallway and led her back to his office. He offered her a seat, but she refused. He asked her what Mary had said.

  “Nothing,” Angela said.

  “You were with her more than ten minutes,” Nguyen said. “You must have talked about something.”

  “Nothing important. She won't talk about last night.” Angela spread her hands. “I'm sorry.”

  Nguyen stared at her a moment. He had the warmest eyes, and she felt guilty lying to him. But she saw no point in relating Mary’s story. If Mary herself wanted to tell him, that was one thing. But Angela would have felt as if she were betraying her friend to talk about her friend's monsters.

  Nguyen finally nodded. “That's fine, Angela.” He led her to the door of his office. “We have your number, don't we? Let’s stay in touch. If anything new happens, be sure to give me a call.”

  “I promise,” Angela said. “Is Jim Kline here?”

  “He left a few minutes ago,” Nguyen said.

  “How is he?”

  Nguyen smiled. “You asked that when you came in.”

  Angela nodded. “You're right.” She flashed a smile. “I just thought I'd ask again. Goodbye, Lieutenant. Thanks again for saving my life.”

  “Thank you for coming in,” Nguyen said.

  After Angela Warner left, a uniformed police officer brought in a cassette tape and a tape player and placed them on Nguyen's desk. The officer left, and Nguyen rewound the cape to listen to the conversation between Angela and Mary. He had, of course, listened in while Angela and Mary had been in the room. If he felt any guilt about eavesdropping on the two girls, he was unaware of it. A horrible crime had been committed, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. That was his responsibility. Angela was right about Lieutenant Nguyen – he was very good at his job.

  What struck Nguyen as he went over the conversation again was not so much what Mary had said but the strength in her voice. She was not a flaky teenager. He remembered how she had stood up to him in the woods. She had more guts than most of his soldiers in the war.

  But what about her story? It was preposterous, of course, but it disturbed Nguyen in ways he couldn't explain. Long ago he had learned to trust his intuition, even above reason. But what was he to do here? The boy Mary had tried to kill – Jim Kline – perhaps he was a murderer. Nguyen had personally interviewed Jim and had not liked him. The boy was hiding something. The way his eyes had darted to the left and right when he was being questioned reminded Nguyen of a caged animal. He was guilty of a crime, of that Nguyen was sure. But Nguyen couldn't spare manpower to have Jim followed, not day and night. He doubled he had the legal right to have the boy trailed anyway.

  It had impressed Nguyen that Angela had not divulged Mary's story. Those two were friends; that had not changed with the events of last night. Perhaps that friendship could be exploited.

  When the tape was finished Nguyen pushed the button on the intercom on his desk. He got one of his men, Officer Martin. The man had helped him capture Mary the night before.

  “Any word on Mary Blanc's bail?” Nguyen asked.

  “She won't get a hearing with a judge until Monday,” Martin said.

  “Can you postpone the hearing?”

  “Blanc's lawyer will complain.”

  “They always do. Have the judge be ill when it comes time for the hearing. Ask him as a personal favour to me. I don't want that girl getting out. She's dangerous.”

  “I understand. Anything else?”

  “I want a list of all the boarded-up warehouses in Balton,” Nguyen said. “Can you get it for me?”

  “Sure,” Martin said. “What do you want it for?”

  “I want to sweep a concrete floor,” Nguyen said. “To see what I find.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The funerals for Todd Green and Kathy Baker were held the Tuesday morning after the Friday night shoot-out. The principal at Point High cancelled class
es for the day, and approximately one quarter of the student body attended. Todd and Kathy had been popular, and as the minister eulogized them, crying could be heard. But the families of the slain, bunched together in black in the front pews of the chapel, remained silent. Grief was etched on their faces along with hatred. Angela Warner sat at the back of the chapel and wondered if the families knew she was a friend of Mary's.

  Angela didn't go to the grave sites after the ceremony. She'd had enough of grief; she didn't know why she'd come at all. Yet, deep inside, she did know the reason. It was guilt. She continued to feel she should have spotted Mary's disturbed state of mind before the shots had been fired. Of course, Mary had not acted disturbed, not even after she'd finished her murderous mission.

  Angela hadn't talked to Mary since Saturday morning.

  Now she was getting into her car after the ceremony. Jim Kline approached, and she felt no fear of him. She had run over Mary's story two or three times and had come to the same conclusion. Something deep inside Mary's mind had snapped. Case closed.

  “Angie,” Jim said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Jim was what was known as a totally rad dude. God had designed his body and fitted him snugly into it. Jim was tall, six two, and built like a hardy redwood. His hair was brown, always neat, and his face was chiselled. He had the broad shoulders and strong arms of an experienced quarterback. Yet his brown eyes were somehow clumsy or shy, as was his smile. He moved awkwardly for an athlete. He didn't look particularly intelligent, and that was because if he’d had brains along with that body there would have been no resisting him.

  Angela had always been attracted to Jim and was happy when he'd invited her to his party. She tried not to think about it now.

  “Sure, we can talk,” Angela said, standing beside her open car door. More than half the people weren't going to the grave sites. Her car was trapped in the chapel parking lot by at least three other cars. She wasn't going anywhere for a minute anyway. “How’s the leg?” she asked.

  “Better,” Jim said, glancing down. “She just winged me.” He looked up again, his eyes shifting to the chapel, then back to her. He seemed embarrassed. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did Friday night. You saved my life.”

  Angela chuckled softly. “Lieutenant Nguyen saved your life. He's the one you should thank.”

  “I wouldn't have been alive for Nguyen to do anything if you hadn't slowed Mary down at the house and in the woods,” Jim said. “If there's anything I can do for you, ever, don't hesitate to ask. I mean that – seriously.”

  Angela blushed. “Maybe some lonely night I'll take you up on that. No, just kidding. Thanks. I mean, it’s OK.” Her tone became serious, and she sighed. “I just wish I'd been able to do more – that we weren't having these funerals today.”

  “Ain't that the truth,” Jim said. Twin black hearses waited in front of the chapel. Soon the coffins would be loaded into them. Thankfully they'd remained closed during the ceremony. Word was that the mortician hadn't been able to do a thing with Kathy's head.

  “How are the families?” Angela asked.

  “Real bad.” Jim gestured helplessly. “This is all so sudden. They want to strike back, but they can't.”

  “Mary will be convicted. There's no chance she'll get off.”

  “I suppose,” Jim said miserably. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his underside grey suit and focused on his feet.

  Angela touched his arm. She could feel him shaking beneath her fingers. “What happened?” she asked. “Do you know?”

  Jim looked at her. “Didn't you talk to her on Saturday?”

  “Yeah. But I couldn't get anything out of her.”

  “Didn't she say anything?”

  “Just a bunch of gibberish.”

  “Like what?”

  Angela shrugged. “I can't even remember most of it.”

  Jim shook his head. “What happened is I told her I wanted to break up with her and go out with other girls. She got real upset – actually it caught me by surprise. You know how strong Mary always is. So when she told me I couldn't leave her, that I belonged to her, I didn't know what to do. I avoided her at first, but she kept coming to our practices and wouldn't leave me alone. She called Todd and told him to tell her if I went out with any other girls. She cornered Kathy at school and told her if she so much as looked at me she'd kill her.”

  Angela frowned. “I can't believe Mary'd act that way.”

  “You can't believe it? She was my girl – I thought I knew her better than anybody.”

  “Why did you want to break up with her?” she asked.

  Jim glanced once more at the hearses, the steps of the chapel. The front line of pallbearers had appeared. Jim was probably supposed to be with them. “This is a lousy place to be having this discussion,” he said.

  “We can talk about it later,” she said quickly.

  “Would that be all right? I'd like to talk about a lot of things. How about Friday night, after the game?”

  “Are you going to play Friday?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yeah. My leg's fine, really. Would you like to get together then?”

  Angela considered a moment. They were at a funeral – a double funeral, for that matter. Jim had been Mary's boyfriend, and Mary was her best friend. He was right; this wasn't the time to be discussing such matters. Jim wasn't asking her out on a date – not really. He just wanted to talk. There could be no harm in that.

  “Sure,” she said. “That'd be fine.”

  Angela got home around eleven o'clock. Her grandfather was still asleep. He kept late hours when he was on the prowl for a new woman, which he had been for the last week. A week searching was a long time for him. Angela closed his bedroom door before sitting down at the kitchen table to read the paper. Mary's rampage was still front-page news. Angela had asked the police that her role in the events not be discussed, and so far she had avoided being turned into a hero by the media. She hadn't gone to school on Monday and didn't know how her classmates were going to treat her. She had no taste for the hero role, especially at the expense of her best friend and two dead classmates.

  Angela had hardly settled herself when there came a knock at her door. It was Kevin Christopher, a guy from her class who lived up the road. Next to Mary, he was the best friend she had in the small community of Point. Their friendship might have been even closer if he hadn’t developed an immediate crush on her when they first met at the beginning of the summer. He made no secret of his devotion to her, which both flattered her and made her uneasy. Kevin was short, about five eight, with a mess of black hair and a grin that would light up at the slight reference to his favourite subjects, which, of course, were sex and sex. Yet Angela believed Kevin had never had sex outside the confines of his own head. Too much the altar boy, he was never crude, even when he was trying to be. He simply didn't have the experience to draw upon, she figured.

  Not that she had any. In fact, they made a great pair, both virgins pretending they had been around the world on a waterbed. She cared a great deal for Kevin. He made her laugh, and she sure could have used him over the weekend. Yet she hadn't seen him since before the party and didn't know where he had been.

  “Am I late?” he asked as she opened the door.

  She smiled, although it was forced. The funerals had taken more out of her than she had realized. “You are just in time. Come in, take off your clothes. Let's do it quick. My husband will be back in a few minutes.”

  Kevin jumped inside the door. “Where is he?”

  “With your wife.”

  “The tramp.”

  “Really. How would you like it today?”

  “Hard and fast,” he said.

  “Is there any other way?” she asked. Then she laughed as he grabbed her, and she pushed him away. She really didn't feel like clowning around. “Calm down, boy. My husband is asleep in the next room.”

  Pretending disappointment, he said, “Maybe next time.” />
  “There's always time,” she agreed. They carried on like this whenever they saw each other. It had become a ritual. But sometimes she worried if she hurt his feelings because she was the one who had to bring him back to earth. She wished she had romantic feelings for Kevin – they might even have had fun together. He was handsome enough, but he just didn't do it for her.

  Not the way, say, Jim Kline did.

  But we're not going to think about that. He's a monster, remember? He eats poor unsuspecting visitors.

  Mary had a sick imagination. Maybe she could write horror books in prison and make a fortune.

  “A and W,” Kevin said, giving her a quick hug. “How are you?” He often called her – Angela Warner – A & W in honour of his favourite root beer. Before she could respond he let go of her and strode into the house to plop down on the living-room couch. “It's nice to be home,” he said.

  Her grandfather's place was a two-storey cedar frame built on an open plan, with exposed beams in the vaulted ceiling. The wood was heavily lacquered pine and polished cedar. A huge basement ran the length of the house. The living-room's sliding glass windows opened out on to Point Lake, which was calm on this warm, sunny day. Kevin sat and glanced at the water, on the far side of which stood Point High, only a year old. It had been built directly on the shore; half the classrooms had a great view which made bored minds wander. Angela went over and sat on the couch beside Kevin.

  “Hey, girl,” Kevin said, not meaning Angela. Plastic, her grandpa's collie, came bouncing into the room and shoved her head on to Kevin's lap. Angela loved the dog – she was beautiful – but Plastic had reservations about Angela. Perhaps she resented having another female in the house. But with Kevin, Plastic couldn't show enough affection. She hungrily rose and licked his face. Angela let it go on for a moment until Kevin began to lick her back. She motioned for Plastic to return to her favourite sunning spot, a wooden balcony that jutted out from both her grandfather’s upstairs bedroom and her own, ten feet directly over the water. Plastic could lie on the balcony for hours, staring at the water. One would have thought she was a cat searching for fish. Yet the dog never dived in.