Bestial (34 page)

“No, that’s not really necessary,” Deputy cross said. “I know who you are. In fact, I’m kind of surprised to see you out here.”

“Well, I’m going to give this to you, anyway,” Abe said as he spun around. He threw himself recklessly at the deputy and buried the knife to the hilt in the lower part of his flat abdomen, then dragged the knife upward. The blade cut through flesh, muscle, and khaki shirt until hit bone.

Cross laughed as the three road-workers pounced on Abe and pulled him away from the deputy. Smiling down at the knife jutting from his body, Cross said, “For a doctor, you sure are—” The smile vanished as he groaned. “What the
fuck
!” he shouted, his voice suddenly high and shrill. He screamed as he stumbled backward, pawing at the knife. He jerked it out of his abdomen and threw it to the pavement with a clatter, as if that would help—but it did not. His screams grew louder as he collapsed to the ground and began to kick and convulse.

“You son of a bitch!” one of the three road-workers barked at Abe—the biggest of the three.

The last thing Abe saw for awhile was the man’s thick-fingered fist suddenly engulfing his field of vision.

As he drove his Chrysler Crossfire coupe, Royce kept glancing to his right at Bob, hoping to see signs of improvement in his friend. But Bob still looked terrified, a nervous wreck, near tears. The route from Royce’s house to Bob’s required him to drive by the Seventh-day Adventist church. As they passed it, Bob’s eyes locked onto the pointy building surrounded by its empty parking lot and his entire body stiffened.

Royce said, “Tell me again why I’m taking you back to your house and opening myself to abuse from the wonderful women in your life?”

“Weapons.”

“Weapons,” Royce repeated.

“My dad’s cane.”

“Yes, you mentioned that. Why his cane? Are you having trouble walking?”

“Because it’s
silver
!” Bob snapped impatiently.

“Look, Bob, you’ve been telling me things in fragments since you got off the phone with that detective. Can you run it all by me in one piece?”

As he spoke, Bob nervously rubbed his hands up and down on his thighs. “Silver. We need silver. Real silver. Karen said that the werewolves have some kind of bad reaction to silver.”

“You mean... like in the movies? Silver bullets?”

Bob nodded jerkily. “I know how it sounds, but
yes
. My dad hurt his knee when I was a kid. Had to have surgery. Grandma gave him an old cane to use while he was recovering. It’s an old thing that used to belong to her grandfather, or something. It had a silver handle in the shape of Anubis.”

“Anubis? The Egyptian god with the jackal head?”

“Yes, the handle is in the shape of the jackal head.”

“You mean to tell me your grandmother allowed something in the shape of an Egyptian god into the house?”

“She doesn’t approve of that, but she says it has sentimental value. Anyway, the handle is silver.” Mostly to himself, he muttered, “I don’t remember where it is... haven’t seen it in years... somewhere in the house... “

”But what about me? Don’t I get a weapon? Or am I shit outta luck?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find something for you. I’ve got an idea.”

Frowning, Royce considered his words carefully before speaking. “Look, Bob, I know something awful has happened, that’s obvious. But... do you hear what you’re saying? You’re talking about... well, about werewolves and silver bullets and—”

Bob suddenly turned to him angrily and shouted, “I know you think I’m some kind of pathetic geek, Royce, you always have, but don’t give me any crap about this! I don’t care if you think it’s weird or funny or if you think it’s a side effect of my lifelong religious brainwashing! I don’t even care if you don’t
believe
me! Just
humor
me for now, okay? You’ll probably find out I’m right soon enough. And when you do, I promise not to say I told you so.”

Royce had never seen Bob behave with such fervor and was taken aback. In a way, it was encouraging—there was a passionate person in that quiet, shy, frightened body after all. It was clear that Bob had seen something horrible. Bob had been seriously damaged by his Seventh-day Adventist upbringing, but other than those pounded into him by his family, the church, and that long-dead drunken plagiarist Ellen G. White, he was not prone to delusions or fantasies. Whatever it was that had so upset Bob was beginning to have the same effect on Royce.

He stopped at the curb in front of Bob’s house and killed the engine.

“You go ahead,” Royce said. “I’ll wait here.”

“No, you have to come with me. I’m going to need help finding that cane. I’m not sure where it is.”

“Can’t your mother help you?”

Bob turned to him and, for a moment, the fear and anxiety left his face and he looked as if Royce had just told a bad joke. “Be serious. She’s not going to help me. With two of us looking, we’ll find it faster. But first, I want to make a weapon for you.”

They got out of the car and Bob jogged across the lawn to the front door. Royce followed slowly. He was in no hurry to go in the house, where he knew he would not be welcomed by Bob’s mother or grandmother.

Bob went inside and left the door standing open behind him. Seconds after he went in, Royce heard Arlene Berens’s shrill, unpleasant voice.

“Where have you been?” she shouted. “Where did you go so fast this morning? You’ve been gone all day! You haven’t gotten a single thing done!”

Here we go,
Royce thought as he walked through the door and quietly closed it behind him. He followed Royce through the doorway to the right and into the combination kitchen and dining room.

Religious music played on the radio. Bob’s mother and grandmother sat at the table with books open before each of them: A bible in front of each, accompanied by what Royce recognized as the Sabbath school lesson. He rolled his eyes behind closed lids. It seemed to him that Seventh-day Adventists were incapable of reading their bibles unless they were guided by some kind of Adventist literature that would put the proper Ellen G. White spin on the scriptures. Grandma appeared to be quite engrossed in her Sabbath school lesson and sat hunched over the books, her head tilted back so she could peer through her bifocals.

“I’d like to know what was so important that you had to rush out of here this morning,” Bob’s mother demanded. “You didn’t even fix breakfast for—” Then she saw Royce. Her mouth slowly closed as she set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. “What is
he
doing here?” she asked.

Grandma looked up from her reading then. When she saw Royce, her wrinkled face quickly became more creased by a disapproving frown.

“Well,” Grandma said, dragging the word out venomously, “still being a bad influence on our boy?”

“What is he
doing
here, Robert?” Mom said again, her voice getting louder with each word.

Both women sounded as defensive and offended as if Royce had walked into the room, uttered obscene insults at them, whipped out his penis, and urinated on the floor. Royce was relieved when Bob started talking right away, taking the pressure off of him.

“Mom, where’s your sterling silver serving tray?” Bob said as he began to look through the cupboards beneath the counter.

“My sterling silver—what do you want with
that
?” she said, confused and angry at the same time.

“I can’t explain now, Mom, I just need.”

“You don’t need my sterling silver serv—”

He stood, spun around, and snapped at her, “I
do
need it! Now where is it?”

Royce flinched, surprised to hear Bob speak to his mother so harshly. It was the first time in all the years he and Bob had known each other.

“Don’t you shout at your mother like that!” Grandma shouted, slapping a hand to the tabletop.

Bob continued to search the cupboards, and in the third one he found it. He pulled the tray out, stood, and handed it to Royce.

The tray was heavy and Royce grabbed it with both hands.

Turning to his mother again, Bob said, “Now, where’s that cane Dad used after his knee surgery?” Bob said. “The one with the silver handle?”

“Cane?” she said.

“The cane, yes, the cane.” Impatient and under pressure, Bob spoke rapidly and abruptly. “Where
is
it?”

Mom shook her head. “I don’t know. But what do you want with that cane?”

“I need it, that’s all. Would it be in your bedroom?”

“Why do
you
need it?” Grandma said. “What for? You’re not going to
sell
it, are you? I gave that cane to your father when—”

”I just need it!” Bob said firmly, raising his voice but not quite shouting.

Proceeding cautiously, Mom said, “Well, it might be in the bedroom, but I—”

”Nevermind for now,” Bob said with a distracted wave. “We’ll find it when we’re done with the tray.” Frowning, he turned to Royce. “Come with me.”

Bob led him across the front hall into the laundry room, opened a narrow closet, and removed a broom. It was an old-fashioned straw broom with a wooden handle.

“What’re you doing with that tray?” Mom shouted.

“We’ve got all the tools we need out in the garage,” Bob said to Royce, opening the door to the garage. “And dad’s old grinding wheel.”

“Grinding wheel?” Mom said. “
Grinding
wheel? What are you
doing
?” She tried to follow them out to the garage, but Bob turned around in the doorway, put a hand on each of her shoulders, and began to walk her backward through the laundry room.

“Mom, listen to me, please,” he said, his voice low and tremulous but urgent. “I don’t have time to explain now, okay? I just can’t. You have to trust me, okay? Just leave me alone for now, let me do what I have to do, and I’ll explain later.”

“You’ll explain
what
later?” she barked, scowling.

Bob stopped walking and just stood there with his hands on her shoulders. His sigh had a slight groan behind it. “Just trust me and I’ll—”

”That’s my
good silver tray
!” she shouted. “I have a right to know what you’re going to
do
with it!”

Bob’s voice dropped nearly to a whisper as he said, “Are you trying to do to me what you did to Dad? Huh? Is that what you want me to do? Drive my car into a concrete wall and kill myself, like he did? Because if that’s what you want, Mom, just keep this up. Otherwise, leave me alone and let me do what I have to do.”

Mom’s upper lip curled and her eyes narrowed. She pointed beyond Bob at Royce, who stood just beyond the doorway in the garage. “He makes you hateful,” she growled. “God is
not
in him
.”

Bob’s arms dropped to his sides. “Mom, I don’t think you know
where
God is.” He turned away, stepped down into the garage, and closed the door. To Royce, he said, “Let’s get to work.”

Karen and Gavin had been listening attentively to George, occasionally asking a question, fascinated by what he had been telling them. The three of them stood close to the bars and spoke very quietly.

“So Hurley’s widow is one of
them
?” Karen asked quietly.

Nodding, George said, “Yes, but she hates them, and she wants to stop them. That’s why she came to me last night. Here.”

“She was here in your cell?” Gavin said.

“She told me what they were planning to do to me,” George said. “Probably the same thing they intend to do to both of you.” A sardonic smile pushed his round cheeks up and narrowed his sparkling eyes. “We’re dinner.”

“Dinner?” Karen said. She had to swallow hard and take a breath to keep her fear from breaking out on her face.

George nodded. “She said they were planning to eat me, and they’d probably do it while I’m still alive. And I know she’s right. I didn’t have much choice. I could face that or help her, and the best way to help her was to become like her.”

Frowning, Gavin said, “You mean... the two of you... “

George nodded again. “She’s hoping it happens fast in me. If I’m like them, at least I’ll stand a fighting chance against them. And as it turns out, she’s going to need me sooner than we thought. A little over an hour ago, she told me they’re planning a meeting tonight in the church. They’ll be together under one roof.”

“She told you?” Karen said. “You mean she was here again?”

“No. She called me.” He removed a small, slender, black cell phone from his pocket. “When she came last night, she left this with me.” He shrugged. “I mean, why not, right? They’ve already taken my phone, and they figure I’m still phoneless. She wanted to be able to stay in touch. She’ll be back later. She promised. I’m just waiting for her to show up. She’s going to let me out of here and we’re going to hit the church.” He smiled again. “Wanna come?”

The sound of the door opening startled all of them. George quickly stuffed the phone back into his pocket. They stepped away from the bars so they wouldn’t look like they’d been talking.

Two deputies came down the corridor, each holding the arm of the slumped man between them. The man’s head drooped as his half-dragged feet tried to keep up with the deputies. One of them opened the last cell in the row of three. Its far wall was cinderblocks rather than bars. The deputies took the man inside, dropped him heavily on the bench, then left the cell, locked the door, and disappeared back up the corridor and around the corner without even glancing at them. The door down the corridor closed heavily.