Desolation

by Derek Landy

  Kelly had just taken down a demon. All right then.

  She fell to her knees, her head feeling like it was about to split open.

  Milo rushed over, kicked Woodbury on to his belly, then used his own cuffs to secure the cop’s hands behind his back. He shoved Woodbury’s pistol into Kelly’s hands, followed up with the extra ammunition, then picked up the shotgun in one hand and hauled Woodbury to his feet with the other.

  “Stop firing!” Milo yelled, moving Woodbury to the door. “We’ve got one of yours! You make any move against us and he’s the first one to catch a bullet!”

  The firing stopped.

  Milo pulled Woodbury back and let him fall. He collapsed, his grin still on, but his eyes closed. Kelly closed her own eyes and covered her head, waiting for the gunfire to resume and really take this headache to the next level.

  Ten seconds passed. Twenty.

  She crawled to a bullet hole in the wall, peeked through. The headlights of the two cruisers were on, making it difficult to see, but she could just about make out the figures of the cops. They were talking to each other, discussing their next move.

  “How long do you think we have?” she whispered to Milo.

  He didn’t answer. He just reloaded his gun.

  AT LEAST THEY WERE SITTING.

  The ground was hard on his bony ass, but at least Virgil’s back was propped up against the cellar wall. The shackles around his wrists were on long chains, too, which meant his hands could rest on his lap while he waited to be killed.

  “Could be worse,” he said.

  “You’re insane,” said Javier. He was hunched over with his back to Virgil, like he was four years old and sulking.

  “Comfort-wise, I mean,” said Virgil. “We could be somewhere cold or damp, or we could be chained to the wall upside down.”

  “Why would we be chained upside down?”

  “I’m just saying, we could be.”

  Javier swivelled his head, eyes narrowed. “Are you enjoying this?”

  “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Unbelievable … you’re enjoying this. You think you’re the Shroud and the evil villain has you trapped in his secret lair.”

  “Well, isn’t that exactly what happened?”

  “I hate you,” said Javier, turning away again. “So much.”

  Virgil sighed. “I’m not delusional, you know. I don’t think I’m the Shroud. But on some level … this is nice. Nostalgic.”

  “We’re about to die,” said Javier, “and I’m chained up in a basement with the lunatic who ruined my life.”

  Virgil blinked. “You really think I ruined your life?”

  “Goat-molesters don’t get the girl.”

  “I said I was sorry. I didn’t know it’d have such a … Anyway. I’m sorry. Again. But we’re not going to die, Javier. I’ll get us out of this.”

  “You?” Javier said, almost laughed.

  “I have a plan, okay? When he comes back and takes the chains off, you fake a heart attack. Then I’ll grab him from behind. Amber said he’s vulnerable when he’s Oscar Moreno, right?”

  “He’ll still be strong enough to throw the two of us around the place.”

  “I’m not going to let him kill you, Javier. It’s because of me that you’re here. You should be … you should be back in the retirement home. You should be safe.”

  “I should be.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “At the retirement home, I’m on a schedule. Things are predictable there. I’ve come to crave predictability as I’ve gotten older. It’s nice and reassuring. I eat and I sleep and I talk to people and I take my pills and I … and I wait for the inevitable …”

  Virgil frowned. “Enemas?”

  “Death.”

  “Oh.”

  Javier didn’t turn – he just sat there with his back to Virgil. “I think about death a lot. Especially lately. Especially since I met you again.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “All this has made me wonder. Deals with the Devil. The Devil is real? So is God real? Do I have to start believing in God now?”

  Virgil raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe in God?”

  “What, just because I’m Latino I should believe in God? I should be a good Catholic? But that’s another thing! Which branch of Christianity is the right one? Please don’t tell me I have to be a Mormon. What are Baptists like? Or Presbyterians? And is this God the only God? What about other religions? Are they real, too? Do I have to start worshipping an elephant now?”

  Virgil frowned. “Who worships elephants?”

  “Don’t the Hindus? Isn’t their god an elephant?”

  “You’re thinking of Ganesha.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. The elephant-head one with all the arms. The point is, the goddamn point of it all is … if there is a Devil, there must be a God, and if there is a God, there must be an afterlife. Christ. I don’t want to go to hell, Virgil.”

  “Why would you go to hell?”

  “I’ve sinned,” said Javier. “I’m a sinner.”

  “We’re all sinners.”

  “Then we’re all going to hell.”

  “You may be a sinner, but are you a good man?”

  “How the hell should I know? How do you figure out something like that?”

  “Do you try to do good in your everyday life?” Virgil asked.

  “I … I guess … I mean, I don’t try to do evil, so that counts for something, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I would. I think you’re a good man, Javier. I think you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  Javier still didn’t turn round. Virgil didn’t blame him. If there was a God, and there was an afterlife, it wouldn’t be Javier descending into the fiery pits, it’d be Virgil. And, what’s more, he’d deserve it, too.

  “It’s not your fault, you know,” said Javier.

  “What isn’t?” Virgil asked, looking at Javier’s back.

  “What happened between me and Darleen Hickman. Now, it didn’t help, of course it didn’t help … but it wasn’t your fault. She didn’t love me, and I … I guess I didn’t really love her, either.”

  “But being called a goat-molester was—”

  “It was the final nail in the coffin, yeah.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “And … and you know I didn’t actually molest that goat, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I know,” Virgil said. “It was brought on to set and it just didn’t like you. It happens. I shouldn’t have speculated as to the reasons.”

  “Do goats need reasons to dislike anyone?”

  “Probably not – though I should say I haven’t known a lot of goats.”

  “I have,” Javier said wistfully, and he looked round and they both burst out laughing.

  “I guess I owe you an apology,” said Javier.

  “Me?” said Virgil, wiping his eyes. “Why, for God’s sake?”

  “Cos I hated you,” said Javier. “I blamed you for things not working out with Darleen, and none of that was your fault. I was bitter, I suppose. I saw you with beautiful women hanging off your every word and there was I, standing in the background … Never got married. Never had kids.”

  “Yeah,” said Virgil, “because I did such a great job with all that.”

  Javier hesitated. “I was … I was real sorry to hear about your wife.”

  Virgil nodded. “She was a good woman.”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “And a good person. Much better than me. Those beautiful women who hung off my every word … they were where it all went wrong. I had a loving wife and a kid on the way and for so long, for so long I resisted temptation. I felt so good about that. So righteous. It didn’t last. That strength didn’t last.”

  “What did Oscar Wilde say? I can resist everything except temptation.”

  “A smart man, that Mr Wilde.”

  “He was known for it,” said Javier. “So you floundered. You made a mi
stake. You’re only human.”

  Virgil laughed again, this time without humour. “That’s what I said. That’s how I justified it to myself. I’m only human. As if being human meant being weak, or unfaithful, or cruel. She wasn’t like that. She never hurt me like that. I wasn’t only human, Javier, I was only me.”

  “But she took you back.”

  Virgil shifted a little on the floor. “She was a fool to. I made her a truckload of promises I couldn’t keep. By then my star was fading, of course, and I didn’t have all those beautiful young women hanging off my every word anymore … So when it happened again, years later, when there was a beautiful young woman who was enraptured with me, I was … flattered. And stupid. And weak.”

  “That’s why your daughter doesn’t want to see you?”

  “I wasn’t a good husband. I thought I was a good father, but obviously not. After her mother died, Tabitha got married, moved out to Alaska of all places … and eventually I followed. Been here ten years. Every day I’m ready to jump in that ridiculous car of mine and drive the forty miles to her house, to fall to my knees and beg her forgiveness and tell her how much I love her despite all my weakness and all my cruelty, and to tell her hey, look at my ridiculous car, big enough to take you and my grandkids away on a picnic or a … or a whatever. And all I need is the invitation.”

  They went quiet.

  Javier turned away again. “You’re an asshole,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “No reason in the world why that daughter of yours should forgive you. No reason why she should answer any of your calls.”

  “None at all.”

  “But I hope she does.”

  Virgil nodded, used his sleeve to wipe his eyes.

  “Knew it,” Javier muttered.

  “You knew what?”

  “I knew I still had it,” Javier said, and got to his feet slowly. When he was standing, the shackles fell from his wrists.

  Virgil stared. “How did you do that?”

  “Did you forget?” Javier asked, then spread his arms wide, and bowed with an extravagant flourish. “Javier Santorum, Circus Magician and Escape Artist.”

  “You picked the lock?”

  Javier grinned, holding up a thin pair of nose-hair tweezers.

  “You beautiful man,” said Virgil.

  Javier chuckled, came over, and started working on Virgil’s shackles. “Let’s get these off,” he said, “then open those doors and get to that bunker. I’ve had quite enough of my life being in danger for one day, thank you very much.”

  IT WAS SNOWING.

  It was May, and it was snowing.

  Amber limped to the window and looked out as the first flurries covered Benjamin’s pickup truck in a dusting of white. “I can’t stay here,” she said.

  “You’re not going out there,” Benjamin said from the table. The kitchen was warm. “What good can you do? You said it yourself, there’s a woman looking to kill you and she’s in those woods.”

  “I don’t know that,” Amber said. “She could be anywhere.”

  “She could be right outside,” Benjamin said, getting up. “And what about those men from before? The bikers? You said they’re in town now?”

  Amber nodded. “It was part of the plan, but … But now it’s all gone wrong.”

  Milo was out there, in the snow and the cold and the dark, with demons and Hounds, but Milo was Milo. He could take care of himself, so long as he had the Charger. But Kelly …

  “Can I ask you something?” said Benjamin, and Amber turned. He cleared his throat. “Did you … are you responsible for nothing happening tonight?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You mean for you not turning into a demon? Yeah, we are.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do me a favour, Benjamin, okay? Try not to look so disappointed that you’re not out there murdering your neighbours.”

  “What? I – I’m not, I don’t know what—”

  “I can see it on your face, for God’s sake.”

  Benjamin looked away.

  Amber pulled a chair towards her and sat. Her leg was bleeding badly. Her body ached. “All this started for me a few weeks ago,” she said. “That’s all. Weeks. I went from being an ordinary girl to being a demon with fangs and claws and horns …”

  “I just want that for a night,” Benjamin said quietly.

  “You don’t get it. It’s been with me every moment since then. It’s been a part of me. I’ve had time to get used to it. To acclimatise. But you? You don’t get that chance, do you? None of you do. You get a blast of this and you go insane for a few hours. But you want to go insane, don’t you? You’re sitting up here, looking forward to it. You’re waiting to go nuts.”

  “Amber, please …”

  “It has to stop. It just has to.”

  “What … what are you going to do? What can you do? Your parents might even have that key by now.”

  “The Narrow Man has another one just like it,” she said. “I’ll … I’ll pay him a visit, take the key, and get to Naberius before my parents do.”

  “And then what?”

  Seconds went by. “I’ll kill him,” she said.

  “How does that help anyone?” Benjamin asked. “Unless I misheard, your plan revolves around Hell Night actually going ahead, doesn’t it? Then the folks down there will take care of the bikers.”

  “There is something else I could try.”

  “What? For heaven’s sake, you’re running out of time.”

  “I could eat him,” she said.

  Benjamin paled. “What?”

  “We eat, we absorb power,” Amber said. “That’s our whole thing. Naberius is in chains. By now he’s probably powerless … But I might get enough from him to be able to take on the Hounds myself.”

  “You can’t … you can’t be serious.”

  “It might be the only way.”

  “Amber … that’s crazy.”

  She smiled, and forced herself to stand. “Welcome to my life. I’m going to need to borrow your truck.”

  “The keys are on the shelf over there.”

  She nodded. “Thanks, Benjamin. You stay up here now, okay? You really don’t want to go venturing out on to the streets. Not tonight.”

  She limped over to the shelf, moved aside an old flashlight and a book. “The keys aren’t here,” she said, and turned just as Benjamin levelled his rifle at her from across the room.

  “I’m sorry,” Benjamin said, tears in his eyes.

  The kitchen was warm, but Amber was ice-cold. “What are you doing?”

  “You seem like such a nice girl,” said Benjamin, “and I am really sorry about this, but I can’t let you take away Hell Night.”

  “But that’s what you want,” said Amber. “You don’t like what you turn into. You said it yourself, the things you do—”

  “Are awful,” Benjamin said, nodding. “They are. They’re terrible. But I need them. You won’t understand, you couldn’t possibly understand, but when I become that … that thing, I am freed of this old man’s body. My joints don’t ache … my bones don’t creak … I stop being old. For one night a year, I feel young and strong and alive and … and I’m sorry, but I need that.”

  “Put the gun down,” Amber said, limping forward.

  “Not another step,” said Benjamin. “Don’t make me shoot you, Amber.”

  Amber kept moving slowly. “You’re not going to hurt me,” she said. “You’re a good guy. I know you are.”

  Benjamin raised the rifle to his shoulder. “Please, stop.”

  She stopped. Her voice wavered. “You’re not going to pull that trigger.”

  “I don’t want to kill you,” said Benjamin. “But I need you to stay put, and stay as you are.”

  “Why?” she asked. “What good will that do?”

  Tears rolled down Benjamin’s cheeks. “You have to be stopped,” he said, “but I can’t do it. I couldn’t live with myself if I had your death on my conscience. So we�
��re going to wait.”

  Amber frowned. “For what?”

  “Hell Night.”

  “Hell Night’s not going to happen.”

  “I have faith,” said Benjamin. “Chief Novak’s a good man. He’ll make sure it continues, now that the mayor’s dead.”

  “So we’re going to wait until you shift, and then what? Then you’ll kill me?”

  Benjamin shook his head. “It won’t be me. It’ll be him. The demon.”

  “It’ll be you,” Amber said angrily. “It’ll still be you, Benjamin.”

  “No, you’re wrong. I can’t control him when he takes over.”

  “You’ll kill me,” she said. “If you change, you’ll kill me.”

  “He’ll kill you.”

  “You’re the one who’ll be pulling that trigger, just like you’re the one keeping me here right now. This is murder, Benjamin. You will be murdering me.”

  “No. It’s not like that.”

  “Don’t do this. Let me go.”

  “I can’t.”

  Every fibre of her being wanted to shift, but she stayed as she was. “Then shoot me,” said Amber. “If you’re going to do it, do it. I’d rather be murdered by a human being than a demon.”

  “I’m not a killer.”

  “That’s exactly what you’ll be, Benjamin. Why waste time? You have the gun, so do it.”

  “No,” said Benjamin. “No, we’ll just wait. We’ll wait here.”

  “I’m not waiting,” she told him, her lip curling into a snarl. “If you’re going to kill me, be a man and kill me. Otherwise, I’m walking out that door.”

  “Don’t move, Amber, please.”

  “I’m walking out that goddamn door.”

  “Please don’t make me do this.”

  “You don’t have to do anything, Benjamin. You can put down the gun and let me walk out of here. You can let me take my chances outside. This doesn’t have to end with you and me. We’re not enemies.”

  “I’m warning you …”

  “You’re not going to shoot me, Benjamin,” Amber said, and stepped forward.