He was injured, then. But how badly? He knew better than to think he was okay just because he couldn’t feel anything. The combination of shock and adrenaline was more effective than morphine when it came to blocking out pain in the short-term. He had once watched a perp run three blocks after two .38 slugs had ripped through the man’s thighs.
He glanced down at his left side and swore. A crimson blotch stained his shirt. A stab of pain shot through him when he drew a deep breath. Had he punctured a lung?
Christ.
He reached for the seatbelt, braced himself with one hand over his head, and triggered the release. The belt let go with a loud snap and he fell the remaining two inches to the roof. He absorbed half of the force with his hand and the other half with his head.
He rolled over and groaned. Safety glass grated on the roof where he lay. Beads of it clung to his cheek. His mind began to clear as the pain in his side intensified. He reached for the radio on the dash and called for help. Then he began the task of wriggling out the door.
It was a lot harder than he’d expected. The door would only open halfway, and his large frame filled nearly the entire gap. He tried to crawl out on his hands and knees, but the car—which was part way on the road and part way on a steep embankment—began to teeter. One wrong move and it might flip over on him.
A few minutes later he had done it. He lay spread eagle on the glass-littered embankment. His side throbbed with each ragged inhale and exhale. He stared up at the dark sky and wished he had never come to this god-forsaken town.
His leg hurt. The pain had surfaced as soon as he left the car. It was his knee. He must have smashed it against the steering column when the car flipped. It felt broken. Christ, maybe even shattered. How had he not felt it until now?
A distant streetlight flickered, revealing brief glimpses of the surrounding woods. He struggled to recall the moments before the accident. He’d been chasing Gallagher, fighting to catch their speeding car until the woman driving began to slow down. Then something had darted out of the shadows—something big like another car pulling out from the side of the road.
Except it hadn’t been a car. It was ... a ... a ... He shook his head. Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t have seen it. It wasn’t possible. But it had looked so real. Like some abomination straight out of hell. It had attached itself to the Volvo’s roof, leaping from the ground and sticking there like a fly. Then the car cut in front of him and he swerved into a ditch.
It didn’t happen. It couldn’t have.
But he drew his gun anyway, thankful that it hadn’t slipped out of the shoulder holster when he wriggled out of the car.
Something moved in the woods. The crunch of leaves silenced the crickets.
Murdock sat up, ignoring the bright flash of pain in his knee. He caught a glimpse of movement, a dark shadow lurking among the trees. And then the streetlight winked out and everything went black.
He pictured Frank Patterson’s mutilated body, blood pooled beneath his missing legs. Dr. Weisman’s words whispered to him.
The puncture wounds suggest that the teeth of this particular animal were barbed.
Sweat seeped from his pores and beaded on his brow. It turned ice cold in the gusting wind. He glanced at his watch. His back up should be arriving in a few minutes. Five or six at the most. Why had he made his voice sound so calm when he radioed in?
A rustling emanated from the woods. He sat up, but could see nothing. And then on his left, he heard whistling. The wind carried the melody to his ears. He recognized the tune—an old song from the Blue Oyster Cult.
Murdock brought up the gun. “FBI. Don’t move.”
But the whistler kept coming, his face obscured by shadows.
“Stay where you are. One more step and I’ll shoot!”
The whistler stopped in his tracks, and a moment later the streetlight winked on.
“Calhoun? Christ, you scared me half to death.” Murdock lowered his gun. “How did you get here? I didn’t even hear you pull up.” He chuckled to himself. For a minute there, he’d really let his imagination run wild. “Hey, give me a hand, will you?”
Calhoun drew to a halt several feet away. He crouched down, resting his hands on his knees, and Murdock thought he saw a strange look in his partner’s eyes, a look like ... well, like madness.
“I didn’t come here to help,” Calhoun said.
“What are you talking about?”
“I came here to watch.”
“Watch what?”
“Your death, of course.” And then he began to sing. “The curtains flew and then He appeared …”
“What are you doing?”
“Said, ‘Don’t be afraid …”
Something sprang from the shadows, something huge and black. Murdock raised his gun and squeezed off two shots before the beast pounced on him, its claws plunging into his flesh like daggers.
The flickering light illuminated its face, and as saliva dripped from its jaws in frothy lines and its rank breath plumed into his face, Murdock wished the street light would go off. Wished that the darkness would hide the horror of this thing.
But when it stepped onto his legs and began tearing strips of flesh from his chest, Murdock knew that his fate was to die slowly. He stared up at the cold, twinkling stars and heard Calhoun laughing and singing from somewhere far away.
“Come on, Murdock … don’t fear the Reaper.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“Excuse me?” Jay said. “Could you repeat that?” He adjusted the volume on his phone and stepped behind the gas pump as an eighteen-wheeler roared past, pulling a whirlwind of litter in its wake.
“Let me check the patient list. Hold on please.”
“Thank you.” Jay watched the truck hurtle down the blackened stretch of the Mass Pike, its taillights winking as it crested the hill and disappeared.
He noticed Sarah peering at him through the rear window, and he wished that Samuel hadn’t dragged her into this. What could possibly be gained by involving her? He offered her a smile as he waited for the nurse to come back on the line, but he regretted the gesture immediately. What if she thought he was smiling because he’d gotten good news? What if she thought her father was okay and then he had to tell her that he wasn’t?
“Come on,” he muttered, leaning against the battered Volvo.
The nurse returned to the line, but unlike the last three hospitals, this one had a listing for Nicholas Connelly.
“They just wheeled him out of surgery.”
“So he’s okay?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more than I already have. Would you like directions to the hospital or shall I have the doctor call you back?”
***
The motel occupied a run-down concrete block just off the highway in a depressed area of Worcester. A convenience store stood across from the motel parking lot, its barred windows reflecting the flashing red glare of a stoplight. An abandoned factory loomed atop a hill nearby—its crumbling smokestack pointed like a leper’s finger to the sky.
Jay let the curtain slip back over the window, blocking the view of both the city and the graveyard of flies trapped between the screen and the glass. When he turned around, he found Crystal staring at him. She looked shell-shocked.
“This is what you meant when you said it wasn’t a ‘who’, but a ‘what’ that was responsible for the disappearances?”
Jay nodded.
“And the boy? He’s real too?”
“Yes.” Jay glanced through the door to the adjoining room where Tim and Maria sat on the bed, comforting Sarah. At Tim’s insistence, they had picked up Maria on their way out of town. “You couldn’t see him because your mind wasn’t open to the possibility. But I think if I showed you the picture now, you would see.”
“Then why was I able to see the creature that jumped onto the roof of the car?”
“Because it’s not dead. It’s here, in the flesh. Samuel’s not a phys
ical presence like Trell is.”
“It has a name?”
“Sit down, Crystal. I didn’t want to get you involved, but it’s obviously too late now.” He told her the whole story, leaving out nothing except for the reason he missed Frank’s phone call on the night of his murder.
When he finished, Crystal stared at him with her mouth agape. “What are we going to do? Do you really think it won’t stop until it’s killed the whole town?”
“I don’t think it’ll stop at Glenwood. Three hundred years ago, it wiped out an entire settlement. If the Washakas hadn’t stopped it, it would have moved onto the next settlement or the next tribe.”
“Do you think it can stray far from its cave?”
“No, but I’m not sure it matters. We know that it’s used people like Frank to bring victims to its lair, so it can do plenty of damage just by staying put.”
“But how did this all start happening again?”
“Good question. I wish I had an answer. But I’ll tell you something that bothers me. Frank said that Trell draws its strength from killing, but I think it’s more than that. Killing amuses it. Trell’s alone in our world, and we’re its entertainment.”
“That’s a scary thought.”
“I know,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulder.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before.”
“I wouldn’t have believed me, either.” Their eyes met, and he had the strongest urge to kiss her.
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Crystal motioned to Sarah, who was crying against Tim’s shoulder.
Jay nodded. “She’s a tough kid. I just hope her father pulls through.”
After they had stopped for gas, Sarah asked if they could go back and look for her cat. When Jay told her that it was too dangerous, it somehow snapped her out of her shock and made everything real for her. She’d been crying ever since. Even from the other room, the sound was heart-wrenching.
He pulled Crystal into a hug and lost himself in the warmth of her skin, the scent of her hair. This time, he couldn’t fight back the urge to kiss her.
She stiffened against his embrace and turned her head away. Not exactly the reaction he was looking for.
“I can’t, Jay. I’m sorry.” She got off the bed and folded her arms across her chest.
“But I’m not drinking anymore. I haven’t had a single drop in two days. And I don’t want to, either.”
Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. He hadn’t had a drink, but he did want one. Several times in the last two days, he’d pictured himself sitting on a barstool at Malley’s, drowning his problems in a frosty mug of Sam. Fortunately, his desire to protect the kids had won out, but how much longer could he keep it up?
“I’m glad you’re trying, Jay. I really am. But I came over tonight so I could finally put you out of my life. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“I think it’s for the best.”
“Okay. Fine,” he said, and stormed out of the room.
Where had he gone wrong? On the drive to the motel, all he could think about was how the night’s events would bring them closer, how fate had dealt him one last chance for a happy life.
So much for that theory.
He took a seat on the bed next to Sarah. “You doing okay?”
Sarah looked up, rubbed her eyes. “I want to see my Dad. And I’m scared for my Mom.”
“I know, hon, but she’ll be okay.”
“Samuel said killing the monster is the only way to help her.”
“Wait a minute—you talked to Samuel?”
Sarah nodded.
“When?”
“Earlier tonight. He woke me up and told me the monster wanted to make Mom hurt me.”
“Did he say anything else?”
She furrowed her brow and thought hard, biting her lip. Finally, she looked up. “He said blood makes it stronger and a pool stains its life.”
Jay thought about the dark waters that Frank had described, how Trell had risen up from the pool. “Stains?” he said. “Are you sure? Or was it ‘sustains’?”
“Yeah, that was it—sustains.”
Jay scratched his head. “So blood makes it stronger and the pool sustains its life.”
“If that’s true,” Tim said, “why haven’t any bodies been found? If it’s like a vampire, wouldn’t it leave behind bodies after it drank their blood?”
“Maybe it has to kill them in the pool,” Jay said. “Maybe it’s something about the water.” He thought back to the story Frank had told him. “That has to be it. Frank told me Trell forced him to bring children to the cave. If it’s to get stronger from their blood, then it has to be spilled in the pool.”
“So how do we kill it?” Tim said. “Drain the pool?”
“Maybe. The other day Maria hit Trell with a car, right? And you said it was hurt?”
“Yeah, I saw it limping into the woods.”
“But it wasn’t limping tonight.”
“Are you saying it uses the pool to heal itself?”
Jay nodded. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? If we shoot Trell and then block it from going into the pool somehow, keep it from healing itself, then we might have a chance.”
“But what if it’s already so strong that bullets can’t hurt it?”
Jay turned to Sarah. “Did Samuel say anything else?”
She thought for a moment. “He said he couldn’t stay in our world much longer.”
Jay frowned. There was still so much they didn’t know, so much they needed Samuel to tell them. He stood up and peered out the window. Shadows draped the parking lot. Could Trell have followed them all this way? Could it have sent someone after them, an assassin?
He dismissed the thought. No one had followed. His eyes had been practically glued to the rearview mirror the whole ride up. He’d seen nothing suspicious, no cars that had stayed with them for any length of time. They had even backtracked on the Pike and headed west for a few exits. That’s where he’d filled the tank, called the hospital, and used an ATM. If the police accessed his phone or ATM records, they’d think he was headed west toward Albany instead of east toward Boston. Plus, before leaving the gas station they switched off cellular data so that no one could track their phones.
They would be safe here. For a few days, at least.
So why did he feel so edgy?
Because you want a drink. Am I right, boy? Why don’t you slip out and pop into that discount liquor joint we passed on the way to this roach motel?
But he ignored the voice. He had to concentrate on their situation, keep his mind clear. But these thoughts kept circling his head, buzzing around like mosquitoes. Sometimes he felt like slapping himself in the face until the voices shut up, hitting himself like a raving lunatic. If that was what it took to end the war inside him, he would do it in a second. He just wished it were that simple.
“Arrow wol,” Jay said, pacing in front of the window. “I wish I knew what that meant. Any ideas?”
No one said anything.
He sighed. “It’s got to mean something. Why else would Frank write us a message in his own blood?”
***
Twenty-seven. No, twenty-eight.
That was the number of bed springs Jay could feel poking into his back. He turned onto his side and glanced at the door to where Crystal slept. Tim was fast asleep on the bed next to his. The sound of his deep, easy breathing drifted through the room.
How can he sleep? After all that’s happened, after all we’re up against, how can his body allow it?
But the answer was simple. Tim’s body knew how to sleep on its own, not like Jay’s, which depended on alcohol to put it to sleep. The night before, he’d lain awake for hours listening to the sound of his wristwatch ticking on the nightstand.
You want some sleep? Then have a drink. Half a bottle of Jack and you’ll be sleeping like a baby.
If this room came equipp
ed with a minibar, he’d probably do as the voice advised. He wished he was stronger than that, wished he had the power to resist such temptation, but lying here in the dead of the night, he felt spineless and weak.
It didn’t help that he was sleeping alone. If he could just curl up next to Crystal, feel the heat of her body against his, he was sure it would keep his demons at bay. Maybe even help him get some sleep.
A rough jangling of metal broke him out of his thoughts. He threw off the covers and rolled out of bed. It sounded like someone fumbling with a ring of keys. A moment later, he heard the exterior door to the girls’ room open and then shut.
Jay snatched his gun off the nightstand and circled around Tim’s bed to the door connecting their rooms. As he reached for the knob, he heard the click of the lock being engaged. He yanked the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
Through the layer of steel came a throaty chuckle. “Too slow,” a man’s voice said.
Jay swore and dashed for the exterior door.
Hang on, Crystal. I’m coming.
He rushed out into the night, stepping barefoot onto a concrete walkway littered with cigarette butts. He blinked at the light cast by the sodium arc lamps and braced himself against a blustery wind.
The door to the girls’ room was locked, but Jay could hear the man’s voice through the paper thin walls, the sound rising and falling as he paced about the room. A tiny fraction of his body showed through a gap in the curtains.
How did it find us, how did it track us here?
Jay could hear Crystal trying to reason with the man. He could picture her sitting on the bed in her white tank top, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and determination.
“Don’t do this,” she said.
“The Dark One commands your deaths.”
That voice. It was so familiar. It sounded like—
“Listen to me,” Crystal said. “I need you to fight it. You can stop this. Do you hear me?”
“The reign of the One and the Many is at hand.”
“I know you don’t want to hurt me, Steve. Now please … put the gun down.”
Jay could see Steve’s silhouette through the gap in the blinds. He positioned the muzzle of his dad’s .45 a fraction of an inch from the glass.
Colony of the Lost Page 19
