Facts were facts, he thought. Steps had to be—
He set a hand on the barbecue handle to steady himself. His head pounded, and he staggered a bit. He rubbed his eyes trying to stop the sudden burning in them.
He slid the screen door open. Catherine was slicing some mushrooms. “Kate?”
“Henry?”
He rubbed his eyes again. “Get me an Advil, would you?” He closed the door, and stiffened when the pain spiked. It was as if someone had driven a hot poker into his eyes. Only when Catherine came out to the deck did the pain stop.
Blood filled his eyes. He could feel the veins around them growing; they seemed to slither outward like snakes beneath his skin. Calmly, he picked up the barbecue fork.
“Henry?” Catherine’s hand began to tremble.
“Empalar,” Henry said, and how he had come to know this strange word—Spanish, no less—didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was that he knew what it meant, and that he knew what to do. Facts were facts.
“Henry?”
Henry Judge gave his beautiful wife a heartfelt smile. And rammed the fork through his temple and into his brain.
~ 149
Judd passed the liquor store in his pickup truck. He made it a habit to drive by it on purpose, a test of his mettle. There was a reason people called it the In-and-Out store, but for him it meant something entirely different: In for a bottle, out for a week.
He swung by Remi’s Pizza near the library and picked up his order. As he turned onto Main Street and approached the community center, he slowed to a crawl. The parking lot was full, and parked cars on both sides lined the street. Traffic stopped as drivers jockeyed for a vacant spot. The dashboard clock read 5:58 p.m.
He backed up and took one of the last spots left. A bite from a slice of his pepperoni pizza helped stem his hunger, and he watched, fascinated, as scores of people headed into the building. He didn’t know what was going on exactly, but he had a damn good idea.
Inside, the place was packed. He was almost thirty feet from the entrance, elbow to elbow with his back against a concrete wall. Hundreds of people sat in wooden chairs, row upon row. He could barely hear himself think for the noise.
A short Asian man stood beside him, and he had to shout. “Hey, Wan, what’s going on?”
Wan Li—the bald owner of Hung Fat—shouted back. “Da mayah. He gonna do sumting abow all dis.”
Judd nodded he understood. He could almost feel the anger in the air. The fear.
He recognized a good number of people. Jim Tate was near the middle of the floor. Julie Jacobs stood at the front row in a red halter top, chatting with a friend. Doc Vogel stood with his arms crossed, his back against the far wall. Ina Krantz from the Thrifty Mart yakked with Merritt DeWitt. The town idiot, Ernie Dobbs, stood along the opposite wall with his knockout sisters. Tammy was on the left, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the other one’s name—only that she was married to that asshole Curt Dixon, and that she was hiding her latest black eye behind those bulky sunglasses. Speaking of assholes, Ernie Dobbs was ignoring whatever it was Tammy was saying to him, clearly preoccupied with the red halter in the front row.
Preacher Horn stood alone at the back exit. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or not—he didn’t really believe in God or religion or miracles and shit—but from the little he knew about what was going on, he figured that right now, Torch Falls could use all the help it could get. And though he didn’t really believe it no matter how much he wanted to, he hoped that Little Brother had nothing to do with this.
Up on the floodlit stage, two police officers stood watch, one at each end. It was clear that the organizers wanted to send a message that order would be maintained. Given the number of people crammed in and the sour mood, he had to agree with the call. If there was one constant in this universe, it was that if you scared the shit out of enough people, it took just a shove to drive them over the edge—and really, all it took was the first one. The rest would follow like the frightened sheep that they were, and boy, oh, boy, watch out for the fireworks.
He didn’t recognize the young cop on the left, but he knew the older one. Frank Ridley had arrested him last summer when he’d passed out drunk while filling his tank at the Conoco. The guy was a prick.
Gwen Cowen stood near the middle of the stage beside the lectern. She had a few words with the mayor, Walter Campbell, and took a seat behind him with some of his handlers.
Campbell moved up to the lectern and adjusted the microphone. It took no less than three pleas for quiet, each louder than the last, before he slammed his gavel down and the noise finally stopped.
“Thank you,” he said. “And thank you all for coming. I apologize for the short notice, but it would appear we got the word out. Good job, Gwen.”
There was some mild laughter and applause, and Gwen Cowen gave a small wave in acknowledgment.
“I know you’re all very concerned with recent events,” the mayor went on. “I’m just as concerned. We all want things to go back to normal. We need normal. But what we don’t need is a panic on our hands. We’ve got to remain calm.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” someone shouted.
“Yeah!” someone else chimed in. Several others offered their versions.
The mayor held up a hand, doing his best to appease the shouters. He waited for them to stop. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. We need to discuss this calmly.”
“So what are you gonna do?” the original shouter shouted. “Talk?”
There was more clamor from the crowd, and the mayor had to slam his gavel again. “That’s enough! Any more outbursts like this, and I’ll have Officer Ridley remove the offenders. Is that understood?”
Some in the crowd grumbled, and then the room fell silent again.
“Now,” Campbell said, “there’ve been a lot of wild rumors and speculation. I know there’s been some unusual things going on. Tragic things. It’s easy to fear what we don’t understand. I’ve called this meeting so you can voice your concerns.”
Dozens of hands went up. The mayor pointed to a woman in the third row wearing black horn-rimmed glasses.
Merritt DeWitt stood up. “What happened at the Conoco yesterday?”
“We’re still investigating that,” the mayor said, looking toward Officer Ridley. “As far as we know at this time, it was an isolated incident.”
“Bullshit!” someone shouted.
“Mr. Mayor,” Merritt said, “you can’t be serious. This wasn’t an isolated incident. It involved Marisa Judge!”
There was a small outburst from the crowd, and the mayor settled them with a hand. “Yes. Yes. She was involved. But we’ve determined that this was a malicious act carried out by a single individual.”
“Mr. Mayor!” Merritt said. “You can’t ignore the facts. Artie Fisher is still missing. Sonia Wheaton is dead. Our sheriff is dead! And we all know what happened on Friday.”
The crowd erupted, and again the mayor pounded his gavel. “Ms. DeWitt—”
“Let me finish, please. All of this started with Kyle Duncan. Didn’t it?”
“Yeah!” someone from the back yelled out. Others offered the same reply.
“And we all know who showed up when that happened, don’t we?” Merritt said.
“Jared Cole!” a woman near the front shouted. Judd recognized the voice—Trixie Fisher. Her two daughters were with her.
“Jared Cole,” Merritt echoed.
“Ms. DeWitt, please,” Mayor Campbell said. “This is precisely the kind of speculation I’m talking about.”
“Are you fucking stupid?” a man shouted. “Open your goddamn eyes, Campbell!”
The mayor scanned the audience. “Was that you, Bert Humphries? There’s no call for that.”
This was met with a round of boos. Gwen Cowen stood up and approached the lectern. She had some words with the mayor, and he stepped back from the microphone. He motioned to it with his hand in a capitulating m
anner.
Gwen stepped up to the microphone. “I know you’re all frightened. I’m scared, too. A lot of you were there on Friday. So was I. It was horrible. Terrifying. For those of us who were there, what we saw was something out of a horror movie. We all saw with our own eyes. Jared Cole started to turn into some horrible freak.”
Jesus, Judd thought. What the hell?
“I say we arrest him!” someone shouted. “Put ’em both in a cage!”
Judd couldn’t tell who it was, but it sounded like Johnny Harris, the butcher at the Thrifty Mart.
Others in the crowd were shouting now, and Gwen had to calm them down. “I know,” she said, her amplified voice rising above the din. “I know. I agree with all of you. A lot of us have seen or heard about the strange things going on. Me, I wasn’t there the day that Kyle Duncan died. But my husband was. He saw something that he can’t explain. Rick?” She motioned to her husband, who was just offstage to her left.
Ricky Cowen stepped across the stage. As he reached the lectern, someone screamed.
“Watch out! He’s got a gun!”
~ 150
Judd didn’t think he heard right—he hoped to Christ he hadn’t—but when those people in the first few rows started from their seats, he knew to Christ he was wrong. And when Gwen Cowen screamed, panic erupted.
Frank Ridley stood at the edge of the stage. The cop’s eyes were bloodshot. Veins grew around them, branching along his cheeks. He stood firm, his unholstered .357 SIG in his hand. He turned toward the lectern, and Gwen Cowen screamed again.
Ridley’s lips moved sluggishly as he uttered something. It came out as gibberish, sounding like a foreign language. The mayor dared a step toward him, and Ridley raised his sidearm and fired. Mayor Campbell took the bullet in the forehead and dropped to the stage. Dozens scrambled for the exits.
Judd was nearly knocked down and had to push people back. He shoved his back up against the wall, and saw the young cop draw his weapon on Ridley. The kid ordered him to stand down, but Ridley fired two shots into him. The kid flopped to the stage and rolled over the edge. His limp body slammed onto the tiled floor.
Ricky Cowen shouted for his wife to move faster. Gwen tripped in her heeled shoes, and Ricky toppled over her. He got to his knees and tried to help her up, only to cry out as a bullet ripped into his back. He slumped over his wife, and she screamed. Her screams did not last long. Ridley stepped up to her and put a bullet between her eyes.
Ridley turned to the sea of panic. Judd reeled. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. Ridley stood like some kind of demon, his eyes teeming with black evil. His skin was cold and gray, those pulsing veins dark and thick. He fired shots into the shrieking crowd, picking people off. Julie Jacobs dropped to her knees, shrieking, after a bullet struck her in the shoulder. A second bullet brought her down, and Ridley stopped to reload. He picked up where he left off.
Judd saw Trixie Fisher trying to force her way through the crowd. Her girls were struggling to escape, and she had to corral them as best she could.
He got moving. He dodged through the crowd across the floor. The stampede knocked down chairs and bodies, and fights broke out at the exits as people tried to squeeze through. Judd couldn’t believe it when he saw the preacher slip out the back door in a panic.
He watched in horror as Ridley gunned down Trixie Fisher. Another bullet struck her daughter in the back, and Amy Fisher dropped to the floor. When Ridley took aim at her sister, Anna, the girl stood cold, gripped in terror. Judd leapt for her just as Ridley fired.
Judd bowled the girl over, cradling her. He rolled her onto her back, covering her as well as he could. The bullet had missed her, and Ridley fired again. The shot barely missed Judd. It struck the back of a wooden chair, and he felt splinters strike his cheek. He got to his knees and helped Anna Fisher to her feet.
“Run!” he screamed. The girl got moving.
Judd ducked and rolled and turned to the stage. Ridley stood cold, his face drawn. Those bulbous veins were no more. His eyes were human again.
Ridley stared in disbelief at the bloodbath around him. He stood still for a moment, then looked down at his hand holding the gun. His lips trembled, his hand too, and before Judd could reach him, before anyone could, he stuffed the barrel into his mouth and pulled the trigger.
~ 151
As his brother stepped into the community center, Jared sat in Marisa’s living room waiting for her to finish her call to her parents. When she finally hung up, he asked her if she was ready to go. Despite everything, he was famished, and the thought of sinking his teeth—those he had left, at least—into a large pizza with double cheese, pepperoni, and mushrooms just about made him salivate. He had called in the order for pickup while Marisa made her call.
“You okay, Mar?”
Marisa slipped her phone into her purse. “I don’t like lying to them. But I don’t need them worrying about me and Kit any more than they already do. I need them out of harm’s way.”
They headed out to the Land Rover. When she buckled up, she leaned over and gave Jared a deep kiss.
“What’s that for?” he said, confused but pleased.
“For not freaking out on me. About everything. It’s not every day a man finds out he’s got a son he never knew he had.”
Jared nodded, surprised with himself. All things considered, he had handled it much better than he would have thought. He still didn’t know how he really felt about being thrust into the role of parent, but one thing was certain: No matter what happened from here on in, he’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to Marisa—or to his son.
He started the engine and pulled away from the house, stopping at the corner. He turned to her, his expression blank.
“… Remi’s,” Marisa reminded him. She stroked his arm.
He nodded, thanking her, and turned right. “I think my memory’s getting worse, too. I know it is.”
“Are you sure? I mean, how would you know?”
His look said it all. His physical changes had taken their toll, but the emotional and psychological stresses were taxing him far more than he wanted to believe. Or cared to reveal. What would Judd say? Man up.
They passed the Conoco only because it was on the way. Slowing down for a look, Jared couldn’t believe the carnage. Bobby’s Camaro had been removed, but the pump island was still a mess of scorched steel and melted plastic parts. All kinds of debris littered the lot. He didn’t blame Marisa for keeping her eyes on the road.
A few minutes later, they passed the library and parked on the street outside the pizzeria. Marisa had a strange look on her face.
“What?” Jared said. He tried to follow her gaze, but she was staring at nothing.
She looked back over her shoulder. “The street’s empty. Seems a little odd, don’t you think? Especially at this hour.” She glanced inside the window of the pizza place. “And except for those two teenagers behind the counter, it’s a morgue in there.”
“Small town,” he said, shrugging. “At any rate, maybe I should stay in the car. I don’t want to scare the bejesus out of them.” He went for his wallet.
Marisa stroked his cheek gently. “My treat, gruesome.” She smiled and went inside.
Jared looked up the street. Checked his rear-view. His side mirror. Even after five minutes, he didn’t see a single car. When Marisa returned, he took the pizza box and set it on the back seat.
“It is a little odd,” he said, regarding the empty street. He pulled away from the curb as Marisa buckled up, and when he turned onto Main, he slowed to a crawl. There was no traffic, and as he passed the seemingly endless sea of parked cars on both sides, he glanced at Marisa, who was positively bug-eyed.
“What the hell?” she said. “There’s more people here than a royal wedding.”
“That’s Judd’s pickup,” Jared said.
“What the hell is going on?”
Jared stopped short of the community center. “
I don’t know.” But I’ve got a pretty good idea, he thought. His zany brainy clicked into gear, conjuring an image of crazed villagers storming after him with torches and pitchforks. On the surface it seemed comical, but the way things were going, it wasn’t a stretch to think that this was far more than a social gathering. He couldn’t shake the fear that Torch Falls was on the verge of imploding.
Even Judd, perhaps. They weren’t exactly enemies any more, but they weren’t exactly friends. They were barely family, and the fact that Judd was inside seemed to drive that fact home. For all his brawn and bravado, in all likelihood he was just as confused and as frightened as everyone else. And if pushed to the brink, it was just as likely he’d be the first one in line to light up a torch and lead the charge. People were dying all around him, some of them friends, and if Judd were forced to choose between friends and family right now, Jared had no doubt which side his brother would pick.
Marisa regarded the doors. “You don’t think—”
Jared’s head rocked forward and struck the wheel. Some invisible hammer pounded the back of his skull. He cried out, the pain unbearable. Blood slipped from his nose, and Marisa screamed … and when she looked out into the street, she screamed again.
~ 152
“Jared! Jared!”
Marisa could not believe the sight unfolding before her. It was as if she had been thrust into a nightmare. The doors to the community center burst open with a flood of screaming people. The first few were lucky and managed to stay on their feet, but when one woman tripped and fell, bodies toppled like dominoes.
Gateway Page 36
