Desolation (36 page)

She reached a road, a familiar road, and now she could move faster. She ran as fast as her injured leg would allow her, reached the bend, and then plunged into the trees once more, started climbing again.

“You bitch!”

Amber spun round, ducked low, hid behind a tree. She could see Kirsty on the road where Amber herself had emerged.

“I’ll find you!” Kirsty screeched. “I’ll find you and I’ll kill you, you bitch! I’ll rip your throat out! I’ll destroy you!”

Kirsty screamed, then, a howl of pure anguish, and she dropped to her knees, holding her head and wailing. If Amber reverted right at that moment, she knew she’d actually feel sorry for her. Her childhood memories of the woman were good, for the most part. She had always seemed so glamorous, so happy. And Grant, the man whose blood was still on Amber’s right hand, had almost been an uncle to her when she was growing up. He had been the only one, out of all of them, with whom she could share a joke. And she’d killed him, she’d torn out his throat the moment he’d given her an opening.

If Amber reverted, all of this would stab at her heart.

Amber didn’t revert.

Kirsty got to her feet. She was unsteady, and wiping madly at the tears in her eyes. She turned then, walked back the way she’d come, and disappeared into the trees.

Amber searched her pockets for her phone, but couldn’t find it. It was down there somewhere, lost in the trees and the darkness. Typical. She started climbing again. She took it slow. The pain in her leg was lessening. By the time she reached the top of the incline, she wasn’t even limping anymore. She untied her jacket, wiped some of the blood off, and put it on. It was cold up here. She remembered the heat of Florida, the ever-present closeness of it, and she smiled. She liked the cold.

She reached the edge of Benjamin’s property and paused a moment to gather herself. She gritted her teeth and waited for the pain to come, and then she reverted.

Sure enough, a truckload of pain slammed into her and Amber moaned. It wasn’t just the fresh wound on her leg, either. It was her shoulder, too, and her ribs, and a dozen other bumps and bruises her demon-self had failed to register. She was limping again, too, as she walked up to Benjamin’s door.

K
ELLY LEANED OUT OF
the window, Grant’s gun held in a two-handed grip. She didn’t bother trying to shoot out the tyres of the cruisers giving chase down this narrow, winding road. Smaller targets were harder to hit – and she knew all too well the possibility of bullets just bouncing off that spinning rubber. Instead, she waited for her moment.

Novak was at the wheel of the car behind, of course he was, the demonic Chief of Police leading the pursuit, but his car was just a car, whereas the Charger was something else. It took the bends tighter, hugged the road closer, and when the cruiser veered a little too wide behind them Kelly pulled the trigger. She saw Novak’s demonically grinning face contort as he twisted, and the cruiser hit the shoulder and left the road.

The next cruiser came up fast to their left. It slammed into them, nearly sent them into a tree, but Milo got the Charger back under control and returned the favour. Officer Ortmann juddered in his seat, but kept his nerve. Behind him, the third cruiser was giving them space. Kelly buckled her seat belt.

The road narrowed and the Charger surged ahead and they were driving single file again. Kelly didn’t know where the hell they were headed and she doubted Milo did, either. The cops were firing, though, and their aim was improving.

They took the next bend and a barn loomed in front of them, dark against the twilit sky, and the back window exploded and Kelly cursed, ducked her head, felt the Charger hit something or get hit by something and she opened her eyes only for a moment in time to see the barn hurtling towards them.

They hit it and Kelly jerked hard into the seat belt and rammed her knee and hit her head and lost her gun and sank back into her seat when all the movement had stopped. Dazed, she blinked her vision clear, looked round as a cruiser screeched to a halt behind them.

“Aw man,” she muttered.

Ortmann leaped out of the cruiser, ran at them from the driver’s side, firing all the while, grinning that hideous demon grin. Kelly ducked, as low as she could get with Milo on top of her, shielding her from the glass. She reached for her gun, her fingertips brushing against it as Ortmann appeared at Milo’s ruined window, sliding a fresh magazine into his automatic. In the stark silence that followed the gunfire, Kelly could hear only her breathing, the slide being pulled back on Ortmann’s gun, and the Charger’s door popping open. Milo kicked out and the door slammed into Ortmann and he staggered sideways.

Kelly reached under the seat, grabbed the gun, looked up in time to see Milo outside the car, catching Ortmann with a right hook that spun him on the spot. Milo’s skin was black. Not just dark, but black, like shadow. His eyes glowed red.

Then it was all gone, and he was Milo again, and he reached in and she grabbed his arm and he pulled her out as the other cruiser came to a skidding, sliding stop.

Milo dragged her into the barn as the cops opened fire, their bullets splintering the wood. Once they were inside, Milo let go, ducked to the left while Kelly dived to the right. She kept her head down, started crawling. The barn was full of stacks of old machinery and piles of pallets. She got behind a tractor engine, stayed low.

She heard gunshots from inside the barn now – Milo was exchanging fire. She rose up, just in time to see Woodbury coming through the door after them, a shotgun raised to his shoulder. He was a big, ugly demon and Kelly charged him without thinking. Before he could swing the gun her way, she pressed it against his chest and jumped. He watched her come, his eyes widening almost in slow motion, too slow to do anything but accept the inevitable. Her headbutt shattered his nose and turned his body to putty that collapsed beneath her even as she landed. She swayed slightly, seeing stars. Woodbury wasn’t unconscious, not fully, but he wasn’t getting up on his own any time soon.

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.

A
T 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.”