by G X Todd
You’ll have to make a move soon. The yahoos upstairs will be finishing their search and heading down here next.
Pilgrim straightened up just enough to watch Bill from over the top of the shelves. The man was heading towards the kinder box section where wooden tubs littered the floor and cover was scant. Pilgrim ducked back down and hurried stealthily along the aisle. He could hear his own boots skimming across the carpet with a soft whisk-whisk-whisk.
Bill stopped whistling.
Pilgrim froze, heart thudding. There was a faint pool of light filtering under the bookcase by his feet, but that wasn’t enough to pinpoint Bill’s location.
He heard you.
‘What the . . .’ Bill’s voice trailed off, and then he was moving again. Faster. His footsteps quick.
Pilgrim chanced lifting his head and saw the man marching back towards the stairs where he had started, heading for the alcove room.
Go!
Pilgrim stayed low and darted back the way he had come, his boots making louder whisking sounds as he ran, half bent over, the noise hopefully lost in Bill’s own hurrying footfalls.
He must’ve seen them.
Pilgrim didn’t care; he had to stop Bill before he stepped into that archway, or else Lacey would shoot, and the sound of the shot would bring the other two running. He came low and fast around the corner and almost fell as he tried to stop. Bill had halted at the end of his aisle and was poking at the hanging papier-mâché spider with the barrels of his shotgun, chuckling wheezily.
‘Damn thing,’ the man said, amused.
By sheer luck, Bill wasn’t facing in Pilgrim’s direction. But all it would take was for him to turn and it would be game over. He was also directly looking at the arched entrance to the alcove.
Retreat or advance?
Pilgrim advanced. He sacrificed speed for stealth this time, carefully placing one boot in front of the other, going as fast as he dared. His eyes never left Bill, even when the man knocked the spider on to the floor and stomped on it, the carapace crunching loudly, just like it would if it were a real spider. Bill kicked the flattened arachnid, and it sailed off into the dark, disappearing through the archway. From inside the room came a surprised cry, quickly muffled but not quickly enough.
‘The fuck?’ Bill said. He went after the spider, shotgun coming up. He was less than twenty-five feet away from the doorway, and closing.
Pilgrim stalked him like a shadow, coming up fast from behind, but he knew it wouldn’t be fast enough to stop the man before he made the room’s archway and Lacey pulled the trigger, so Pilgrim spoke before he was even within reaching distance, said, ‘Hey, Bill,’ in a low voice, saw him flinch and swing around, the gun barrels swinging with him, the two black nostrils getting ready to spit out fire and death. Pilgrim expected to hear the deafening clap-bang of the gun going off, the horrendous CRACK of the cartridge igniting that would undoubtedly alert Bill’s pals, but Pilgrim was still stepping forward, still advancing, and he grabbed the barrels as they came around and yanked on them hard, hearing Bill grunt and the dry snap of his finger as the bone broke, trapped in the trigger guard.
Pilgrim pulled the shotgun away from Bill and brought up his other hand, the one still holding the knife, and punched it into Bill’s gut, right under his ribs, punched it in deep and felt the hot gush of blood spill over his hand, scalding, almost painful. Bill dropped the flashlight, and it hit the carpet at their feet and spun, a disco light strobing and flashing before it bumped up against Pilgrim’s boot and stopped, its beam pointing back through the archway, where Alex stood with tyre iron in hand, and Lacey beside her, the girl sighting at them down the barrel of her .22. But she wouldn’t need to shoot anyone because Bill, his eyes wide and staring into Pilgrim’s face, collapsed to his knees – a slow, lazy drop, as if he were proposing marriage and wanted to take his time over it, his rough hands holding on to Pilgrim’s hand, which still held the knife that was imbedded deep in his guts. He fell away, his hands sliding from around Pilgrim’s, and curled on to his side, a soft releasing of breath leaving him in an endlessly long sigh. And then it stopped, and he lay still, and breathed no more.
Pilgrim wasn’t still; he cleaned his blade off on the guy’s shirt and put it away. He picked up the flashlight and headed for the girls. They parted to let him through, and he swept past them to collect his pack from beside the tree, telling them to gather their things. Ten seconds later, he was leading them back across the children’s library, winding through the kinder boxes to the south-east corner, the flashlight picking out the emergency exit. Behind them, from upstairs, someone called down to Bill.
Of course, Bill didn’t reply.
Pilgrim didn’t pause or look back but depressed the lever of the door and pushed outside into the blinding sun.
They ran up a flight of concrete stairs and skirted the outside of the library to the front, where Pilgrim stopped to peer around the corner. Their car was parked where they had left it. Next to it was a Frankensteinian jeep bristling with antennas, the headlights and grille missing, the rear portion of its roof ripped off, leaving the back loading compartment open to the elements. Its passenger door stood wide, waiting for its occupants to mosey on outside and climb back in. There were no signs of Jeb or Whiny.
What about Sneezy and Dopey?
‘You’re really not helping,’ Pilgrim muttered. He turned back to the girls, handing the shotgun to Alex as he talked. ‘I’ll get in the car first and open your doors – Lacey in front, Alex in back. All the bags go with Alex on the rear seat. Get in, but don’t slam your doors. Once you’re in, get down as low as you can, on the floor if you can manage it. And don’t get up until I say so. Ready?’ It didn’t matter if they weren’t, but he waited for a response. Lacey chewed on the inside of her cheek so hard Pilgrim felt sure she would chew right through her face, but she barely hesitated before giving a nod. Alex’s bruises were stark against her ashen skin, but she nodded without any hesitation at all. She gave him the car keys.
Tough gals.
‘Tough enough,’ Pilgrim said. ‘Let’s go.’
Drawing his handgun, he jogged out into the open, his eyes not straying from the entrance to the library. Key ready in his hand, he inserted it into the driver’s door, opened it and reached into the back to unlock the rear for Alex. She slipped in and was already reaching for their packs before Pilgrim had even finished taking his off. He slid into the driver’s seat, hissing as his back hit the blisteringly hot upholstery, and leaned over to unlock the passenger door. Behind him, the rear door clicked quietly shut. Lacey hurried around the front of the car, and Pilgrim inserted the key into the ignition, getting ready to start the engine as soon as her backside hit the seat.
Lacey cried out as a huge black Rottweiler leapt at her from the rear bay of the jeep. She fell against the side of the car, the dog viciously pulled up short by a chain fastened to its collar, tethered to something in the bed of the vehicle. It barked savagely at the girl, deep, loud barks that smacked the ears. The animal strained to get to the girl, its muscles bunching under its sleek coat as it struggled to pull itself free, its muzzle snarled back to reveal sharp yellow teeth.
‘Get in!’ Pilgrim twisted the key, the engine cranking over but not firing up.
Lacey scrabbled at the door, fumbling the handle, and Alex reached over the seat to push it open, shouting her name.
The engine turned over and over, and Pilgrim feared he would snap the key he was twisting it so hard. The car roared to life just as the man who must be Jeb burst out of the library’s front door, Whiny right on his heels. They were like two bearded scarecrows dressed in plaid and dirty denim, all arms and legs and heads too big for their bodies.
Pilgrim thrust the car into reverse.
Jeb’s gun came up.
‘DOWN!’ Pilgrim roared.
The girls flattened themselves and two gunshots cracked in quick succession, holes punching through the windshield to Pilgrim’s right, spiders’ webs
fracturing the glass. One bullet slammed into Lacey’s headrest and the second zipped past to thud into the back seat. Pilgrim floored the pedal and the car peeled backwards, leaving two strips of rubber on the concrete. He spun the wheel hard and the car swung on a wide skid, tyres shrilling. He slammed it into drive and the car leapt forward from its haunches.
No more gunshots came.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw the men run for the jeep, slamming into it, the engine gunning.
Should’ve disabled their car, Voice said.
Pilgrim bit back his irritation. He’d thought about it but hadn’t wanted to waste the time. He’d known it would only take a few short minutes for the men to discover their dead friend down in the children’s library.
Lacey’s crawled up from the footwell of the passenger seat and looked out the back window.
‘Did you see that?’ she asked breathlessly.
Pilgrim took the exit of the parking lot too fast, clipping the kerb opposite before straightening up and stamping on the accelerator. The speedo needle rose steadily.
He heard the squeal of wheels as the pickup came after them.
‘It had “Defender” on the back of it,’ said Lacey.
He chanced a glance at her.
‘I saw it. I swear.’
He believed her. ‘Think you can shoot at them?’
She looked back out of the window. The jeep was about a hundred yards behind and closing. ‘I can try,’ she said.
Good girl.
‘Try,’ Pilgrim told her.
She squirmed over the headrest of her seat, Alex grabbing hold of her and helping pull at the girl until she fell sprawling into the back.
‘Hold on. Corner.’ Pilgrim feathered the brakes, shaving off as little speed as possible, and took the corner at over thirty, everything in the car – their packs, the girls, any item not bolted down – sliding to the left. The suspension creaked, the car shuddered, and Pilgrim had to clamp on to the steering wheel so hard to keep on course his forearms hurt. Then they were clear and he saw, no more than a mile away, the ramp leading back on to the highway. He mashed the gas pedal to the floor.
Behind them, the jeep shot around the corner, skidding across the entire length of the road and almost colliding into a half-collapsed traffic light. It had already gained twenty yards on them.
They’ll be on us before we hit the highway.
‘Lacey?’ he asked.
‘Lacey?’ Alex called to the girl.
‘Nearly there!’ Lacey yelled back, her voice far away.
He glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw her half hanging out of the rear side window, her and her rifle sticking out so that her head and shoulders were visible only through his side mirror. Alex was holding on to her around the waist while the girl sighted the jeep.
He touched the brakes again, slowing them and allowing the jeep to gain another precious few yards.
I hope you know what you’re doing—
The rifle went off, the sharp crack shockingly loud in the confines of the car. A second shot went off as Pilgrim hit the on-ramp to the highway. He watched in the mirror in quick glances and saw she had scored two hits out of two: the windshield directly where the driver sat was fractured with bullet holes. The jeep swerved off the road, tyres kicking up clouds of dust, the rear end fishtailing wildly. Alex pulled the girl back inside the car and they both watched as the pickup skidded to a stop. The two girls laughed. Alex threw an arm around Lacey’s shoulders and hugged her.
Pilgrim didn’t laugh – the driver’s door sprung open and Jeb jumped out, his gun up and pointing at them. A metallic pinging thunked all along the car’s rear fender, and then the impossible happened. So many times Pilgrim had read how difficult it was to hit a moving wheel. To blow it out. But he felt the back end of the car jump up, felt the steering wheel shimmy between his palms as the car slithered out of control. He fought to keep it on the road. A terrible grating noise came from the rear wing, the rubber of the destroyed wheel having already stripped free from its rim.
A lead weight pulled at the steering wheel, dragging it to the left. He tried to wrench it back in line but overcompensated, and in the space of a single day he watched a second car flip, this time witnessing it from the inside. The world revolved unnaturally around him. The car slammed on to its side. The engine screamed as the power train continued to drive the back wheels but failed to gain traction. Metal screeched and buckled, glass exploded as windows shattered. Cries came from the back seat. The car tilted again and rolled on to its roof. Pilgrim’s head connected first with a strut, then with the ceiling, and everything blinked out, the TV in his mind shutting off, and the next thing he knew he was outside, lying on his back, the boiling sun beating into his eyes.
A kick to his ribs had him coming fully awake. He instinctively tucked up into a ball and wrapped his arms around the lancing pain.
That’s cracked at least two, Voice said.
Pilgrim would have told him to shut up if he’d had the breath.
‘Fucker killed Bill,’ a familiar voice said from above him, followed by another kick, this one connecting with his kidneys.
‘Leave him alone!’
Pilgrim spat out blood and dust and looked up to see the second auburn-headed guy, Whiny, cuff Lacey around the back of the head to quieten her down.
Pilgrim went to get up, but a boot stomped down between his shoulders and mashed him back to the ground.
‘Stay the fuck down,’ Jeb told him.
He didn’t. He shoved at the earth, levering himself up again. Jeb’s boot caught him in the face. It took two more kicks before Pilgrim dropped.
‘Bastard doesn’t know when to quit.’
‘NO!’ Lacey cried. ‘Stop it!’
Pilgrim lay on his stomach, his head throbbing sickly, his lower back alive with dancing pain. Hooked barbs jabbed into his side. He slid his hand down over his hip, patting for his gun in its holster. It was gone.
We’ve been in some tight spots before, compadre, but I don’t know how you’re getting us out of this one.
‘“Stop it”?’ Jeb asked the girl. ‘Stop what? Me hurting this piece of shit right here?’ He kicked Pilgrim in the leg, the toe of his boot jabbing deep into the muscle of his thigh.
‘Yes! Stop it! Please!’ She struggled to pull free, but Whiny had a wiry look about him, and no amount of squirming could break his grip.
Jeb cupped a hand around his ear in a parody of deafness. ‘Sorry, can’t hear you.’ He booted Pilgrim in the ribs again.
Groaning, Pilgrim curled on to his side, using the movement as cover as he went for the hidden sheath at the small of his back. Fifteen feet away, Alex lay similarly on her side, near to the crashed car. It had landed on all four wheels again, although Pilgrim didn’t recall when that had happened. Alex’s eyes were open and she was looking at him. She gave a minute shake of her head, but Pilgrim wasn’t sure what she was trying to say – don’t make a move on them? Don’t make a move on them yet? Was she telling him to give up, and to just let it go?
His shaking fingers found the handle of the knife.
And what’re you going to do with that? These boys have guns.
‘Shuddup,’ he managed, the words a broken mumble, his mouth not working. He turned his attention to Jeb and squinted at his boots, his vision blurring for a moment, fastening his eyes on the frayed, grimy cuffs of the guy’s jeans.
‘What’s that now?’ Jeb said. ‘You telling me to shut up?’ His mouth was puckered in what Pilgrim assumed was an expression of intense dislike, the bristles of his beard twisted up on one side. It made him look retarded. ‘How about you shut your fucking pie-hole, dipshit.’ And he reached down and gripped the collar of Pilgrim’s shirt, yanking him up on to his knees.
Pilgrim bit back a cry as all his pains flared white-hot. Sweat broke out on his brow. But Jeb was close enough now and Pilgrim pulled out his knife and stabbed it into the guy’s stomach. He’d wanted to get him dead cen
tre, like he had with Bill, but Pilgrim’s head was swimming and he’d misjudged, getting him more in the side, under the guy’s ribs. It was good enough, though, because Jeb shrieked like a woman and released Pilgrim’s collar. Pilgrim wrenched the blade out, went to punch it back in, but everything was moving too slowly, the world winding down to a crawl, his hand and Jeb’s arm moving through an invisible gelatinous liquid. Pilgrim’s vision cleared as he watched the revolver come slowly, slowly, up, almost to point-blank range by the time it was aimed at his head. Jeb’s dirty-nailed finger tightened around the trigger. Pilgrim knew the gun was a Smith & Wesson Chief’s Special, which held .38 calibre cartridges, and that .38 cartridges travelled upwards of six hundred feet per second. Once the bullet left the three-inch barrel, it would hit him approximately .0035 seconds later. Faster than he could blink. He knew all this the same way he knew he was about to die.
It’s empty. He emptied the gun into the side of our car.
But Pilgrim knew it wasn’t. He’d counted two shots fired at the library, and a further three had slammed into the fender of their car, one of which blew out the tyre. That left one. And one was all it would take.
No, it’s empty, Voice said again, but he sounded uncertain.
Time sped back up, the gun kicking in Jeb’s hands, the shot blasting out a wash of desert heat, a flame licking out of the muzzle, beautiful in its fiery red. It was the last beautiful thing Pilgrim would see before the bullet slammed into his head and Voice fled into the darkness.
PART TWO
The Girl Who Heard Voices
CHAPTER 1
Lacey screamed. She couldn’t hear the scream, but she knew she must be screaming because her mouth was open and she could feel the vibrations of the sound rip up through her chest. Her throat hurt.
It’s not real, she thought. No no no, not real.
Oh, it’s real all right.
The way his head had snapped to the side, the gun too close, firing right into it. The way he’d dropped to the ground, heavy and limp.
