Desolation

by Derek Landy

  The blast filled the room and Amber felt a tug in her belly, and all at once her legs didn’t work and she was on her back, gasping.

  Numb fingers scrabbled at her jacket, pulling it open. Blood was already pouring from the wound above her navel, soaking through her shirt. She tried pressing her hands against it. The blood kept coming.

  “Just wait here,” she heard Benjamin mumble. “We’ll just wait here and it’ll all be over soon.”

  The bullet must have gone straight through because there was more blood leaking from her back. She was lying in an ever-growing pool of her own blood and now the pain was coming. It flared suddenly and Amber cried out.

  “Hush,” said Benjamin. “Just hush now. It’ll be all right. You shouldn’t have done that. I told you not to move and you moved. Why did you do that? Why did you make me shoot you?”

  There were a dozen responses to that question and every one of them was blown apart by the rising tide of pain that brought stinging sweat to Amber’s eyes.

  “Help me,” she said, her words distorted. It hurt to breathe.

  Benjamin hurried over, looked down at her. “The pain won’t last long,” he said. “The change’ll happen any minute now. Then he’ll be here to put you out of your misery.”

  He ducked out of Amber’s line of sight, and she was left alone again, with just the ceiling and her pain for company. Another few seconds and she’d no longer be able to form coherent thoughts.

  She couldn’t prevent it any longer. Amber shifted, the sudden transformation making her cry out once more.

  “I told you!” Benjamin said loudly. “I told you not to do that!”

  Either the pain dimmed to a manageable level or else she was suddenly just able to handle it better – either way she could now raise herself up on to an elbow to look at Benjamin, who had the rifle aimed and ready to fire.

  “Change back!” he commanded. “I know you can change back! You’re not like us! Change back right this second!”

  “You shot me,” she said. “I’m dying. Please, you have to help me.”

  “I said change back!” he roared, advancing on her.

  Instinctively, her black scales rose on her skin, locking into place to form armour in the time it took Benjamin’s finger to tighten on the trigger. The bullet struck her chest, just below her left shoulder, smashing through her scales and she twisted, screaming.

  Benjamin was standing over her now. “That wasn’t my fault! That was your own fault! I told you not to change and you changed!”

  She lashed out, caught him below the knee and sent him to the blood-splattered floor. He didn’t drop the rifle, though, and he was swinging it towards her when she scrambled up. She ran for the window, leaped through, shards of glass scraping her scales. She landed in the snow, the pain almost making her black out, but she was up again a few seconds later, woozy, dizzy, almost running straight into a tree.

  She pushed herself away from it and her scales retracted. With her arms crossed over her body, she started down the slope. She slipped and slid, bounced off one tree to the next in the darkness, but managed to keep upright. She found a trail and took it, grateful for the level ground. She glanced back at the bloody footprints she was leaving, and her foot struck something and she stumbled to her knees. She stayed like this for a moment, fighting to get the pain under control. When she was sure she wasn’t going to puke or pass out, she looked back up the slope, and saw Benjamin.

  He was coming for her.

  THEY PULLED UP OUTSIDE Cole Blancard’s house, the wipers clearing the snow from the windshield, and the woman peered out.

  “This is it?” she asked. “You’re sure?”

  Austin nodded quickly.

  She looked at him, dead in the eye. “If you’re lying to us, we’re going to be very upset with you.”

  “I’m not lying,” said Austin. “They said a kid with a birthmark stole the key. Cole Blancard is the only kid in town with a birthmark on his face. And he steals things. He’s always stealing.”

  “He a friend of yours?” the man asked from the front seat.

  “No, sir. He hates me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t know. He always picks on me.”

  “A bully,” the woman said. “We’ve never liked bullies, have we, Bill?”

  “Not unless we’re doing the bullying.”

  The woman chuckled. “This is true. This is very true. So, Austin, how about this for a deal? We all go up there, we knock on the door, you get us inside, and then we’ll kill this bully for you. What do you say?”

  Austin stared at her. “I don’t … I don’t want him killed …”

  “Why the hell not?” asked Bill. “He’s making your life a misery, isn’t he? The little shit deserves it.”

  “Language,” said the woman.

  Bill shrugged, and got out of the van, treating Austin to a blast of cold air.

  The woman – what did she say her name was? Betty? – gave Austin another smile. “I understand. You’re reluctant to agree to someone being killed. That’s natural. But it’s also weak. Don’t take this the wrong way, Austin, I don’t mean to insult you – it’s just that over the years my husband and I have realised how a little killing now and then makes life easier. This boy, what’s his name?”

  “Cole Blancard.”

  “This boy Cole, he’s an obstacle in your way. He’s stopping you from having a happy life – or at the very least he’s one of the obstacles. There’s nothing wrong in wanting to remove an obstacle, Austin.”

  Bill opened the side door. “The little voice that’s saying no right now, that’s your conscience. A conscience is very important for a lot of things, but equally important is to know when not to listen to it. Because your own conscience can work against you.”

  “It really can,” Betty said, sounding terribly sad about it. Austin got out of the van, and she came after. The snow was coming down heavier now. “When you think about it, your conscience is really about other people. It cares what they think and how they feel and all sorts of stuff that isn’t about you.”

  They started walking up to Cole’s house, Bill and Betty on either side of Austin.

  “Betty and I don’t live like that anymore,” said Bill. “We learned the hard way, believe me. But then we realised how much better off we’d be if we actually concentrated the most on ourselves.”

  “How selfish does that sound?” Betty laughed.

  Bill joined in. “It does sound selfish, I admit. And hey, it is selfish! But there’s nothing wrong with being selfish, Austin. It’s the American way.”

  They got to the door, and Betty knocked.

  “Ask to speak to Cole,” she said softly, smiling.

  “He’ll be in his panic room,” said Austin. “It’s past eight. We have a curfew. His parents won’t let him out.”

  “You’ll have to be persuasive, then. When you see him, ask him where he put the key. Maybe even ask him if he’d give it to you. After that, I promise, we’ll remove him from your life.”

  Bill put a fatherly hand on Austin’s shoulder, as Cole himself answered the door.

  Austin blinked. He hadn’t been expecting this. The curfew.

  Cole’s eyes went to Bill first, then Betty, and lingered there for a moment, then he glanced downwards at Austin and frowned.

  Bill gave Austin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  “Hi, Cole,” said Austin.

  Cole adopted that slow-blinking expression of his. “What?” he said gruffly.

  “You, uh, you have a key,” said Austin. “I think you took it from a car earlier today.”

  “Probably entirely innocently!” said Betty, and laughed. “We’re certainly not accusing you of anything, Cole. Dear Lord, no.”

  Bill joined in, smiling. “But we do kind of need it, I’m afraid.”

  “Didn’t take no key,” Cole said.

  “You see that?” said Betty. “It’s so insignificant you didn’t even not
ice you’d taken it! I knew you didn’t do it on purpose!”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cole said. He went to shut the door, but Bill stopped it with his foot.

  “Are your parents home, by any chance?” he asked. “I know you have a festival tonight, and everyone’s looking forward to it, but if we could have a word with your dad, I’m sure we’ll sort everything out.”

  “He’s my stepdad,” said Cole.

  “Is he in? Or your mom herself, maybe?”

  Cole looked at them all, thinking slow thoughts. Then his eyes settled on Austin. “I remember a key now. Didn’t think anyone owned it. Austin, you wanna come get it with me?”

  “He sure would!” said Bill, and lightly pushed Austin into the house.

  “Come on,” said Cole, and walked off. Austin hesitated, but with Bill and Betty crowding him from behind, he figured anywhere was better than staying where he was.

  He didn’t like the smell of Cole’s house. It smelled of boiled food and musk. Cole led him into his bedroom, which smelled a whole lot worse. Socks, sweat and dirty underwear. Cole closed the door behind them. It had a poster of a naked woman in chains pinned to it.

  “Thought you were abducted,” Cole said. “Thought you were dead in a ditch.” When Austin didn’t respond, Cole went over to his nightstand. When he turned, he was holding a brass key. “This the one you’re looking for?”

  Austin didn’t know. “Yes,” he said.

  Cole examined it. “What’s it open?”

  Austin gave a clueless shrug.

  Cole peered at it some more. “You tell your parents on me?”

  “No.”

  “You brought them to my house.”

  “They’re not my parents.”

  “Who are they, then?”

  “Just … just some people I know.”

  Cole didn’t say anything to that. He held out the key. “Go on then. Take it.”

  It was a trap. Austin knew it was. He’d seen Cole Blancard do this a hundred times, mostly with bags and books. Sometimes lunches. Once a phone – an expensive one – and when the kid had hurried forward Cole had dropped it. It landed on the screen, cracked the whole thing. Each one of those times, Cole had worn an expression of pure contempt, just like the one he was wearing now.

  Except right now something was different. Cole had a new trick up his sleeve.

  Austin crossed the room, careful not to step on the clothes that littered the floor. “Thank you,” he said, even before he reached for the key.

  To his surprise, Cole let him take it. Then he jammed the cold muzzle of a handgun into the underside of Austin’s chin and slammed him back against the wall.

  Austin couldn’t move. He couldn’t even breathe. Only his eyelids worked. He blinked quickly, like he was trying to rid himself of the eerie blankness on Cole’s face.

  “Want me to shoot you?” Cole asked quietly. “Want me to kill you?”

  Tears came to Austin’s eyes.

  Cole didn’t comment on them. He didn’t care about tears. He held death in his hand.

  “I could blow your head off,” Cole said. “Boom. Blow it off. Your skull would be all over the place. Your brains would be my new wallpaper. This gun has a silencer. No one would even hear.”

  “P-please …”

  “Would they care, even if they did hear? Everyone thinks you’re still missing. Who are the people you’re with? They the ones kidnapped you? The guy’s a dick, but the woman’s okay-looking. I might do her after I kill you.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “No one would care. My mom wouldn’t care. She’s freaking out because Hell Night hasn’t started. She didn’t even notice that I’m not in the panic room. I could kill you right now and no one would give a shit.”

  Cole sniffed, then stepped back. After a moment, he lifted his shirt and tucked the gun into his waistband.

  Austin took a shallow breath, and licked his lips. His mouth was so dry. He started to lean away from the wall and Cole tugged the gun free and leaped on him, jammed the gun into his cheek.

  “Did I say you could move? Did I give you permission?”

  “Please don’t kill me,” Austin sobbed, his knees buckling.

  “I’ll do whatever the hell I want, shit-for-brains. You bring those people to my house? You told on me?”

  Austin slid down the wall. “I didn’t, I swear.”

  “I know you did, you asshole. It’s obvious. Why are you lying?”

  Austin was kneeling on the ground now, his face pressed against the wall with the gun still jammed into his cheek. Beyond the bedroom door, Bill and Betty were talking with Cole’s mom.

  “Please don’t kill me, Cole.”

  “I’ll kill you if I wanna kill you, dipshit. I’m the one in charge. You think anyone else is in charge right now? I could kill you, go out there, shoot those people you’re with. If my mom says anything, I’ll tell her to mind her own goddamn business. And if my stepdad comes out I’ll blow his head off, too. He’s been asking for it for years. I never liked that guy. Never. And now I can deal with all you assholes. Who’s gonna stop me? Huh? Who?”

  “I don’t know …”

  “No one. No one, that’s who. You think Chief Novak’s gonna take me down? Not a chance. They’ll have to send a SWAT team after me.”

  “Cole, please don’t kill me. Please let me go.”

  “Say my name one more time and I’ll pull the trigger, you little toad.”

  “Sorry!” Austin said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry!”

  Cole cracked the gun against the side of Austin’s head. Austin cried out and Cole’s knee caught him right on the ear and that hurt even more than the gun had.

  Knuckles rapped on the door. “Cole!”

  His mom’s voice. High and brittle. “Cole, hurry up now!”

  Cole took hold of the back of Austin’s shirt and pulled him to his feet, shoving him to the door as it opened.

  “You should really go,” Cole’s mom was saying. “The festival is due to start any minute now. I really think you should go.”

  “We’ll be out of your hair in but a moment!” Bill laughed.

  Austin and Cole stepped out into the corridor. Everyone saw the tears, but no one cared.

  “Why aren’t you in the panic room?” Cole’s mom said to Cole, her eyes glittering way too brightly, but Cole ignored her.

  “Boys,” said Betty, smiling, “there you are! Cole, did you find that key?”

  The gun dug into the small of his back, and Austin held up the key. “He found it,” he said.

  The way Betty’s eyes fell on it, it was like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. “Oh good,” she said softly.

  Cole’s breathing hitched, and he took the gun from Austin’s back, but before he could make his move another door opened and a man came out.

  Cole’s mom wrung her hands. “These people were just leaving. I told them the festival is about to start. Why hasn’t it started? It should have started by now.”

  Cole muttered something and shoved the gun back into his waistband.

  “Actually, it might be delayed a little longer,” Cole’s stepdad said. “I’m going out to see what I can do to …” His eyes fell upon Austin, and he smiled. “Who do we have here?”

  “Bill and Betty,” said Bill.

  “Bill and Betty,” Cole’s mom said, nodding quickly. “Yes. Bill and Betty, this is my husband—”

  “Oscar,” said Cole’s stepdad, stepping forward. “Oscar Moreno. How do you do?”

  THE BARN WAS OLD and cold. It had a hayloft without any hay, and snow drifted down through the hole in the roof.

  Kelly ran her fingers across her forehead, wincing at the pain. It was already swelling. She wondered how Amber’s shoulder was holding up, then wondered about Amber. She glanced at Woodbury as he lay there, unconscious, and looked up at Milo.

  “Why are we here?” she asked.

  Milo kept looking out. “W
hat?”

  “There’s no point to this,” she said. “What does this achieve?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I mean it’s done. It’s over. They’ve got no reason to …”

  She got to her feet, waited until she was steady, and walked to a hole that had been blasted in the wood by the shotgun that Milo now held.

  “Hey,” she called through the jagged wood. “You out there. Why are we doing this? We saved the boy and we stopped Hell Night. That’s what you didn’t want us to do, right?”

  There was no response.

  “But we’ve done it. It’s done. So what are we doing here? We’re standing in the cold, freezing our butts off, shooting at each other, and for what? For nothing. So I have an idea. We all walk away from this. What do you say?”

  She could hear voices now, the cops talking among themselves.

  Then Lucy’s voice. “Kelly. That you?”

  “Hey, Lucy. What’s up?”

  “Kelly, I’m going to need you to let Woodbury go.”

  “We can’t do that,” Kelly replied. “He’s the only reason you guys aren’t storming this barn right now.”

  “That’s not true,” Lucy said. “You’re right. Hell Night hasn’t happened. Whatever you’ve done, you definitely seem to have stopped it. We might be willing to walk away, like you want, but we need our colleague released to us before we can make that decision.”

  “Nonsense,” Kelly called back cheerily. “You can decide that right now. You get in your car and drive away. We get in our car and do the same. We let Woodbury go when we have all our friends back. We drop him right at the town boundary.”

  “We can’t negotiate like that, Kelly. It’s not how we do things.”

  “Oh, Lucy, have you ever really tried?”

  There were footsteps now. Lucy stepped into the full beams of the cruisers and walked forward with her hands up. The snow danced crazily in those lights.

  “That’s far enough,” Milo said.

  Lucy nodded, and took a few more steps before stopping. She wasn’t wearing her demon face anymore. “I just want to talk,” she said. “I just want to sort this out, the same as you. I don’t want either of you getting hurt. I don’t want Woodbury to get hurt, or Ortmann. And I certainly don’t want me to get hurt. That’s my number-one priority, right there. But you’ve got to understand my position. I can’t make any kind of deal with you, no matter how informal, when you have a gun to my friend’s head.”