Forever Man (41 page)

Ahead, she spotted a bright spot, brighter than the fog. She bolted toward it.

Closer. She was closer.

The mists thinned. The light grew like a nascent star. The light exploded into a supernova—

—and Natalie pried open her eyes.

*   *   *

“Mom?”

Startled at the sound of the voice, Izzy stopped struggling and looked toward the back of the cave.

Webber snatched up the gun and pushed Izzy off him. As he got to his feet, Owens released Jack’s wrist and drove his knuckles into the man’s throat. The impact stunned the banker into releasing him. Owens began retching, trying to draw breath into his lungs.

Removing his fingers from his ears, Kevin walked over to Natalie, knelt down, and ran his fingers through her hair. Brushing a few strands from her face, he said, “Pretty lady.”

Natalie, her eyes open, drew in a shuddering breath, then blinked.

“Oh God.
Mom
.” Her voice was weak, trembling. But she was speaking.

Her daughter was alive!

How? No, she didn’t care how.

“Say goodbye, Bartholomew,” said Webber, leveling the Glock at the old man.

“No!” shouted Izzy and kicked at Webber. Her heel connected with his thigh just as he fired, shoving him off balance, causing him to almost shoot Jack. The smell of burnt gunpowder filled the cave. Her ears rang solidly.

Webber spun to face her, eyes wide with rage. Then she was looking up the barrel of a .40 caliber death sentence.

“Mom!” cried Natalie.

“Shut up, kid.” Then Webber jerked his head at the banker. “Let’s do this different. I still need you, Jack. So, step away from the old man.
Now.
”

Rubbing at his throat, Jack threw Owens a baleful glare and then backed away. As a parting shot, he said, “I don’t know why everyone’s so afraid of you. I almost killed your ass.”

Owens, his face bruised, his lip bleeding, returned Jack’s glare. The man was breathing heavily, his shoulders bent. Fatigue deepened the lines on his face. For the first time since Izzy had met him, he truly looked like an old man.

With the gun still pointed at her, Webber said, “Wrong, Jack. If it weren’t for your son, you’d be in worse shape than him.”

“Kevin never touched him,” Jack said. “All he did was stand there.”

“All he
had
to do was stand there.”

Lying on the ground, Izzy knew she had to do something or they weren’t going to get out of this alive. She edged herself closer to Webber, drawing her knees up. Her eyes sought Owens. She’d only have one chance—

From the other side of the lanterns, he met her gaze, gave her an almost imperceptible nod. Then he focused his attention on Jack.

“Your son,” Owens said. “He has von Kliner’s Syndrome.”

Jack frowned. “What does that matter?”

“You know it’s a rare condition.”

Webber’s lifted the gun, aimed at Owens. His knuckles whitened. “Shut up, ‘Forever Man’.”

Jack glanced curiously at Webber. “What—?”

“It’s so rare,” the old man continued, “that Darryl and I have only seen one other von Kliner child. And that didn’t end well.

“That person was Darryl’s sister, Jesse. He killed her for having it.”

Webber’s eyes flew wide with rage and he fired. At the same instant, Izzy drove her legs forward and smashed Webber’s knee back at an unnatural angle. Cartilage shattered and Webber collapsed to the ground.

Take out the knee and you take out the man.

Webber lay on the ground, his mouth gaped open, the veins in his neck throbbing. But his eyes had gone strangely blank.

Izzy looked over at Owens. He was on the ground, blood seeping from a gunshot wound to his chest.

With his recuperative powers, he should be fine. Then again, why hadn’t Jack invoked the old man’s defenses? What if his other abilities weren’t functioning? Were they somehow lies?

A shadow moved across her. She looked up to see Jack standing over her, his gun pointed at her head.

“That wasn’t nice, Morris,” he said, gesturing to Webber with his gun. “He’s my ticket out of this place. And I’m not going to let you ruin it for me.”

Izzy scrambled for an idea. She couldn’t let Jack win. Natalie depended on her.

Owens, his voice weak, called out to Jack. “Wrong…. Darryl never wanted you. Your son…has powers. Abilities. Darryl…I don’t think he ever planned on taking you with him.”

Jack’s face spasmed in rage. He spun and aimed the gun at Bart.

“No, it’s me! This is about
me
!” Jack was snarling now. He straightened his arm, the hand holding the gun trembling.

Before Jack could shoot, Izzy propped herself up with both hands—her left shoulder hurt, oh damn it
hurt
—and dug her bound heels into the dirt. Then she launched herself at Jack. He saw the movement and spun, snapping the gun around and firing.

The round punched into her side like a fist of burning coals. But she wasn’t going to let this bastard get her. She wrapped her arms around Jack’s waist, her good hand gripping the bad, her dislocated shoulder screaming in agony. She shoved hard against the ground. The momentum threw Jack off balance. But his stance was too strong. He remained standing. He aimed the gun at her head.

Izzy loosened her arms and slid down to Jack’s knees and his shot missed. Before he could fire a third time, she squeezed again, twisted, rolling, dragging Jack’s legs with her. His knees buckled and he fell. He squeezed a fourth shot, but the round impacted into the cave’s ceiling. Dirt fell onto the lanterns. More cracks spread along the surface.

Jack landed hard onto the ground, the air whooshing out of him.

From outside the cave, Izzy heard a scream. It was Katie.

Then, through the opening, the monster charged into the cave. One of its eyes was a charred black hole.

Webber called out, his voiced heavy with pain: “Bartholomew! Kill him! Now!”

The creature seemed to hesitate; maybe it remembered the pain Owens had inflicted on it before.

In that moment, Izzy clawed over Jack and wrapped her hand around his gun. With an effort that she felt would break her, she brought her wounded arm around, gripped the gun with both hands. Pointed it at the monster. Slid her finger over Jack’s. Squeezed the trigger.

The round caught the creature in the neck. Flesh and fur exploded.

“Again,” said Owens, his voice urgent.

Izzy fired again. The round blew half the creature’s shaggy head apart. Bone and blood splattered the cave wall. The monster’s left jaw came unhinged and hung loose, its tongue escaping between broken teeth. Then it fell wetly to the ground, its massive girth sending vibrations through the stone floor.

Jack, his breath regained, abruptly convulsed. His hand splayed open. Izzy grabbed the gun.

On the ground next to her, sweat streaming down his face, Webber lifted his gun. Izzy kicked, knocking Webber’s weapon aside.

She brought Jack’s gun around.

She’d learned there was the justice she’d always believed in, the one that lead her to be a cop. And then there was Justice—one she’d always known in her heart existed but had been afraid to embrace. That had changed.

“This is for my daughter,” she said and fired.

*   *   *

Her round hit Webber in the chest, punching a hole through him the size of a baseball. She fired again. And again. Each shot made Webber’s body jerk like a marionette with a couple of strings missing. His chest disintegrated into a mass of crimson gore. He raised an arm, fingers twitching. Then it fell. The life drained from his eyes. His body sagged.

Dead. Darryl Webber was finally dead.

She ripped the tape from her ankles and stood. Adrenaline had reduced the gunshot wound in her side to a painful ache.

“Izzy.”

She turned. Bart Owens gestured toward Jack.

The banker had stopped convulsing. He was lying on the ground next to Webber, trembling, the heels of his shoes drumming against the ground. His face was flushed, feverish. Sweat oozed from his pores. The muscles of his neck were corded. His eyes had rolled back until only the whites showed.

But his skin—

She blinked, not sure of what she was seeing. His skin was moving, shifting, as if bugs were crawling under it.

Izzy frowned at Owens. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Get out of here. Fast.”

“But—?”

“Go,” he repeated. “Please,
now.
Take Kevin and your daughter. Hurry.”

Jack’s jaw creaked open with a tortured sound like someone loosening a rusty lug nut. From his open mouth spilled a thin, reedy sound . His hand snaked out, grasped Webber’s leg.

And the corpse twitched.

“Right,” said Izzy, horrified. “Time to go.”

She limped across the cave, her hand held over her gut.

On his knees next to Natalie, Kevin seemed blissfully unaware of what was happening to his father. He continued to stroke Natalie’s forehead.

Her daughter’s eyes were closed. She appeared asleep. But after days without water, lying on the cold ground with her wounded abdomen, she must be near death.

“Hurry,” gasped Owens. He coughed. Droplets of blood flew from his mouth. “Get Kevin away from me.”

Looking questioningly at the old man, Izzy stretched out her hand to Kevin and felt his tiny hand slip into hers.

“Von Kliner’s,” wheezed Owens, “negates my abilities.”

Izzy’s eyes widened. That’s why Jack could attack Owens and not get hurt.

“The boy,” Owens said, his face coated with sweat. “Get him away…or I
will
die.”

Oh, shit. Galvanized by his words, Izzy helped Kevin to his feet.

“Katie.” Owens lifted a hand toward the cave opening. “Outside. With Gene.”

Kneeling down, Izzy lifted a hand to Kevin’s face, cupped his chin, forced the boy to look at her.

“Kevin, honey. You need to go outside. Katie’s there. Remember Katie? J.J.’s girlfriend? Please, go find Katie.” She gave him a gentle push toward the cave opening. “Go, Kevin. Go find Katie.”

Kevin stopped after a few steps. He looked back at Izzy—then broke into a smile and scampered through the opening.

With Kevin safely outside, Izzy threw a wary glance back at Jack. The man had managed to somehow drag Webber’s corpse over so that it lay partially on top of him. Still emitting its reedy hiss, Jack’s mouth had stretched to impossible dimensions: his chin rested on the middle of his chest. Just beneath the surface of his skin, his flesh continued to boil.

Webber’s corpse twitched and shook like a man having a seizure.

When Jack lifted one of Webber’s hands and stuffed it into his gaping maw, Izzy turned away, revulsion rising in her throat.

Natalie lay unconscious on the floor. Izzy bent down, eased her arms under her daughter, and lifted. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her injuries shrieked at the effort. Her weakened left arm could barely support Nat.

Holding her daughter for the first time in days, she whispered, “Time to go, honey.”

As she struggled toward the cave opening, she heard Owens call her name. She stopped and turned her head toward the old man.

“Hurry back,” he said. “I’m going to need your help.”

Nodding, Izzy stumbled out of the cave.

Locked inside his convulsing body, Jack’s mind wailed in terror.

He was burning, his body an inferno, a living pyre. Incandescent, the heat consumed him. Muscle and sinew, blood and bone. He felt it all: every rupture, every blazing reformation, igniting his nerves.

No! he screamed silently. What’s happening? It wasn’t supposed to be like this!

Then he was gagging, his throat violated by something squirmy, like a sack of worms. Reflexively he retched, tried to clear the object from his airway—but more was shoved down his gullet, crammed until the passage stretched to accommodate the writhing mass.

Choking and unable to breathe, his panicked heart raced faster. It strained against the confines of his chest, hammering until the muscle buckled under the pressure: with a harsh kick, it hesitated, stuttered for a few helpless, clinging beats.

He knew his time had come.

Your drawings, Kevin. I always loved them…and you.

I’m sorry.

And then Jack Sallinen died.

For a long moment, nothing. Then his heart clenched. Relaxed. Clenched. Blood flowed. The gagging subsided—

—and was replaced by hunger.

His jaw gaped wider. Thick saliva oozed into the orifice, coating his burning membranes, cooling them, making them slick, slippery. His esophagus flexed, a rhythmic peristalsis, forcing more of the twitching mass into him.

Gradually, he swallowed, though he still could barely breathe. Eventually, he ate. The burning pain faded until it was no more than an ache. And was replaced by noise. Harsh and caustic, like the tortured screams of a thousand—

Be Nothings
.

Chew, swallow—savor. He couldn’t get enough.

Noise was pain. And pain. Pain was power.

The power he wanted. The power he demanded.

The power he deserved.

The noise grew. It called to him.

He could not refuse.

*   *   *

Stumbling out of the cave with Nat in her arms, Izzy almost fell into snow. Only the sheer determination to save her daughter kept her from collapsing.

Katie was kneeling not far from the cave’s entrance, the long frame of Gene’s body lying prone on the ground beside her. She had a blood-soaked cloth pressed to his neck. Her face was knotted with worry.

Kevin stood near Katie, bundled in his jacket, his small frame shivering from the cold.

Izzy had to set Natalie down. Her wounded shoulder wouldn’t support her daughter’s weight any longer. She managed a few more halting steps toward Katie before she fell to her knees and laid Natalie on the ground.

With her dislocated shoulder aching and the gunshot wound in her abdomen a searing tooth biting into her flesh, she crawled to Katie.

“What happened?”