Forever Man (27 page)

“Not amazingly fast,” Izzy countered. “
Impossibly
fast. And it’s more than speculation. You
told
me you were older than you looked. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with this healing.”

Owens shrugged. “Believe what you will.”

“The creature,” Gene cut in. All eyes turned to him. “It’s more than the healing. It’s the creature, too. You’d said something, like you’d recognized it.”

Owens regarded them for a moment, his expression shifting from cautious to concerned—maybe even a little irritated—all within the span of a heartbeat. Izzy suddenly realized they could be playing a dangerous game. Bart Owens was a man with no known past. No means of identification. A man who can heal himself and apparently has run-ins with monsters. If he were provoked enough, what else might he be capable of?

“You don’t understand,” Owens said. His words were clipped. “I’m trying to keep you alive. It’s been a priority of mine since I arrived. These questions…all you’re doing is running
toward
the danger. Why can’t we focus on finding the missing kids? After that, I’ll be on my way. And you three can go on living long and happy lives.”

Izzy picked up a piece of broken door and brandished it like a contradiction. “How much closer to the danger can we get? We’re not like you. If that thing had gotten to us, we’d be dead now.”

“Yes, I know. But—”

Katie piped in. “A thick metal door didn’t stop that thing. Mrs. Morris’s gun didn’t stop it either. But you did. Without a weapon or anything, you beat it. You
hurt
it. We all heard it screaming. And if it hadn’t managed to get away, I think you might have killed it—killed it by doing nothing more than grabbing it.” She left the obvious question unspoken, hanging in the air like a pall.

Owens lowered his eyes. Working his way into a sitting position, he opened his third water bottle and took a drink. He started fingering the folds of the blanket.

“I see you’re not going to let this go.” He kept his eyes downcast. “After what you’ve been through, I suppose I wouldn’t, either. But what you’re asking of me….” He finally raised his head. Izzy thought the color of his eyes had darkened; they now resembled the hard blue of a glacier. The bold lines of his face seemed to accentuate the starkness of his gaze.

“There are struggles going on around us,” Owens continued. “Wars. Acts of terrorism. You see them every day on the news. But there’s another battle being fought. One you don’t see.” He tore the top off a bag of chips and dug in. “I’m on one side of that fight. Darryl Webber’s on the other.”

“So we’re back to the CIA theory?” said Izzy. “Black ops stuff. Spy versus spy.”

Owens shook his head. “No, no governments. Nothing like that. But it’s a war nonetheless. One I’ve been fighting for a long time.”

Izzy heard an odd inflection in Owens’s voice. Gene must have caught it too, because he asked, “How long?”

“Long enough that I’ve met some interesting people in my day.” Owens hesitated, using the opportunity to stuff more chips into his mouth. When he was done chewing, he said, “The Beatles were nice, the one time I’d met them. What a jam session that was. George played guitar a lot better than people gave him credit for.” Another handful of chips, this time followed by a mouthful of water. “The Second World War was rough. I was a tank commander back then.”

Katie frowned. “But that was—what?—seventy years ago? You’d have to be over ninety by now.”

Owens nodded. “If the Second World War was rough, the first one was ten times worse. That time I was a medic. When you’re out there in the trenches, patching up people in the mud and the blood, there’s no separation from the violence. No emotional distance, like the kind you get from sitting in a tank. The destruction’s right here.” He held his hand up, inches from his face. “Right in front of you.” He lowered his hand. “I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years.”

Nobody spoke for a moment, and then Gene started singing, “Da da da dum, da da da dum. Daaa—da da da dum!”

“You may not be that far off,” she said, recognizing the theme from the
Twilight Zone
. “If he’s not making this up, he’s over a hundred years old.” She rubbed at her temples. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Then Katie said, “I think it’s amazing.”

The words drew Izzy’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“Look at him,” Katie said, her voice full of wonder. “Look at what he’s done. He has to be part of something big—bigger than us. I guess it kind of gives me hope.” She looked away, as if she were embarrassed by her words. “Hope that there’s something more to this world than misery.”

Owens's gaze lingered on Katie for a moment. He opened his mouth, and Izzy thought he was going to say something to the girl. But he must have thought better of it. With a brief shake of his head, he returned his attention to Izzy.

“Let’s not forget why we’re here. We need to find Kevin. If Webber gets to the boy first, they’ll disappear. We’ll never see Kevin, or your daughter, again.”

Izzy’s stomach cramped at the mention of Natalie. How many hours had passed since she’d seen her daughter’s photos? She grated at the delay, but there was still more she needed to understand before she could decide how to save her daughter.

“You say Webber’s behind this,” Izzy said. “That he’s on the other side of this war you’re fighting. Is he like you, then? Did he have something to do with the creature that attacked us?”

Owens nodded. “He sent it. He
must
have. Remember what I said about his temper? Well, you just saw how bad it can be.” He began twisting the water bottle in his hands. “And, no. He’s not ‘like me.’ But he’s still a very dangerous man. I wouldn’t underestimate him.”

“Didn’t you say you gave him the scar on his jaw?” asked Gene.

“Twice he’s set traps for me,” Owens said. “Twice he’s failed. That scar was from our last meeting.”

“And the creature?” Gene continued.

Owens blew air out his pursed lips. “Yes, the creature. Let’s just say that Webber has access to certain—oh, call them allies—that he uses to fight for him. What attacked us was one of them. I’d never seen that particular one before.”

“Come on,” Gene persisted. “You can do better than that.”

“Fine. You’ll never see one on Animal Planet.”

“Yeah, we got that already.” Gene leaned forward. “Where did it come from?”

Owens ran a hand over the top of his head. The conflict within him could be seen in the set of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes. He went for another drink, but set the water bottle down before it reached his mouth. When he finally spoke, his voice was apologetic but firm. “Sorry, Gene. We’re running out of time. And explaining that would take too long.”

“But—”

“You want to risk those two kids’ lives just to satisfy your curiosity? I’ve told you enough already. More than I should have.” Owens slowly got to his feet. “We need to get moving.”

“He’s right on that point,” Izzy said. “We’ve wasted too much time already. But there’s one more thing I’m going to insist on knowing.” She gave Owens a level look. “I want to know how you stopped that creature. I didn’t see you doing any kind of damage, but still you drove it away. So, if I’m going to rely on you in a fight, I need to know what it is you can do.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Owens said, shaking his head. “If explaining the creature would take a while, explaining that would take a lot longer.”

“Then you’d better start,” Izzy said firmly.

“Seriously, I’d rather not—”

“And I’d rather not have had my daughter taken from me, or be attacked by a monster, or argue with a man older than my great-grandfather.” With the shock of Owens’s revelations wearing off, his evasiveness was getting to her—again. “I’ve been patient with you, but if Natalie’s still alive, then Webber isn’t going to let me simply walk in and take her. You have a way to help me. I need to know what that is.”

“Don’t go there,” Owens said softly. “Please.”

“Enough with the mystery man bullshit.” Izzy voice cut through the air. “This could mean my daughter’s life. Now
tell me!
”

Owens actually flinched. At his sides, his hands worked, opening and closing like a man groping for a reason to stay in control. Then his expression grew hard, even defiant.

“No,” he said flatly.

‘What?” Izzy wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

“No,” Owens repeated. “I’ll keep whatever secrets I want. I don’t answer to you.”

“But Natalie?” Her surprise at Owens’s attitude gave way to a burgeoning anger. “She could die if—”

“Then she does.” Owens tone was cold.

Katie gasped. Gene, his face flushed with anger, said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Owens ignored them. His focus was on Izzy. “You want to ask questions? Fine, keep at it. But if your daughter dies, it will be your fault.”

Gene tried to get between Izzy and the old man. “Stop it!”

Owens shifted away from Gene and continued his attack. “Face it, Izzy. If Natalie dies, it will be because of you.” He paused. “You will have failed as a mother.”

The old man’s words had pushed her past her limits. She balled up her fist and punched him.

When she hit the man, her hand exploded in pain—a pain that was so acute she thought she’d broken every bone in it. She cried out and yanked her hand back, holding it close to her chest. Looking down, she flexed her fingers, expecting shards of broken bone to dig into her flesh. But, other than red knuckles, her hand appeared fine. In fact, the pain was fading rapidly.

Gene rounded on Owens. “What kind of shit was that?”

“She wanted to know,” Owens said. “She wanted to know how I stopped that creature. I could’ve told her, but feeling is believing.” His voice softened. “I know it hurt, Izzy. I apologize. You needed to be mad enough to hit me. I couldn’t think of any other way.”

Izzy gaped at her hand. The pain—it had been agony. “You
did
that?”

Gene and Katie said in unison, “Did what?”

“Pain,” Izzy muttered. She still couldn’t believe how it had hurt. “Like nothing I’d ever felt before. I thought I’d shattered my hand. Then it just stopped.”

Gene glowered at Owens, obviously still upset. “I don’t get it.”

“Pain,” Owens said plaintively. “When I grabbed the creature, it started to feel pain. As I kept hold of it, the pain intensified, building every second. If I’d held on long enough, it would likely have died.”

Izzy peered up at Owens. “Do you—do you also feel that pain?”

Owens hesitated, then nodded.

“And as it grew?” she went on. “As you wrestled with that creature, the pain you felt—that I just felt—it multiplied?”

“Yes,” Owens replied.

“My God” Izzy whispered. “This pain, is it always there?”

Owens finally looked away. “Not to such an extent, but, yes, it is.”

Izzy heard Katie stifle a cry. Gene was shaking his head in horror.

“What happened to you,” she asked him. “Why are you being punished like this?”

“There’s more,” Owens said. He still couldn’t meet her gaze. “You’re not putting it together.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Owens struggled for a moment. He swallowed hard. “Two days ago. We were in the forest, looking for signs of your daughter. You’d just found the guitar pick. Then—”

“Stanley,” Gene said, interrupting Owens. “He attacked you. You two were wrestling with that gun. Then he collapsed.”

“There was nothing I could do,” Owens said. “The pain might have triggered his heart attack.”

Realization hit Izzy like another punch to the gut. “You mean….”

Owens nodded. “If he dies, it will be my fault.”

J.J. Sallinen pulled into the parking lot of the Hiawatha Trails Motel, his windshield wipers slapping away big, fluffy snowflakes. He nosed his Dodge Charger into an empty parking spot near the office. His dad’s Benz wasn’t there, but he spotted the white Silverado parked near the end of the lot. An inch or two of snow covered it. No one was standing around waiting for him, so he decided to sit for a moment and let warm air from the car’s heater wash over him. He cranked up the radio. The Stone Temple Pilots sang about digging a hole to China.

Before leaving Kevin in her care, he’d given Brittany Parsons some fast talk and slick half-truths about what had happened these last twenty-four hours. He’d told her if anyone were to call and ask, she should play dumb. No one, and that included his father, was to know that she had Kevin. He’d thanked her again and said he hoped to be back before evening. Bewildered, she’d simply nodded her head and went to sit with Kevin.

After shrugging into his varsity jacket, J.J. had stepped over to the couch. Kevin’s vacant expression hadn’t changed. J.J. had reached out and mussed up Kevin’s hair. His brother shot him a quick smile. On an impulse, J.J. leaned down and kissed the top of his brother’s head. This change in Kevin had brought to light an understanding about himself that he’d been conveniently ignoring: so long as Kevin had been blissfully unaware, it had been easy for J.J. to blame his brother for everything. But now he had seen something different. There was a scared little boy buried deep inside Kevin, a scared little boy who had claimed to know things, who had begged for help. Kevin had looked lost, confused, and desperately lonely.

Maybe he and his brother were more alike than he’d ever imagined.

J.J. saw movement outside the car. Turning, he saw his father’s scowling face filling the window, snow dusting his head and shoulders, making it look like he had the world’s worst case of dandruff. J.J. started to laugh—then stopped. He looked closer. There was an angry red line running down his dad’s left cheek, like he’d been cut.

J.J. killed the ignition. He wasn’t fully out of the car before his dad was in his face.

“Where’s your brother?”

“I told you. This one’s just between you and me.” He pointed to the cut. “What happened to you?”

“Never mind that,” his dad answered. “You were supposed to bring Kevin so we could keep him safe.”