Forever Man (43 page)

Owens nodded. “Important enough to have drawn the attention of some very dangerous people. You saw that he could blank out my abilities. And Darryl’s. That may just be the start of what he can do.”

There were implications in that statement that Izzy wanted to pursue, but she let them slide. Owens was right. Now was not the time.

“If Kevin’s that important,” said Izzy, “then you don’t want to leave him with a stranger. You want someone he knows raising him. And I’ve already seen what can happen. I’ll know to keep my guard up.” She shrugged. “I’m the perfect choice.”

“What about your husband?” Owens asked. “Are you just going to leave him?”

She thought about Stanley. Their marriage had been failing for years. Her leaving would give him a chance at a new life, provided he lived.

She nodded.

“And Natalie,” Owens continued. “Doesn’t she have a say in this?”

“After what she’s been through, I don’t know what she’ll think. But for now, she’s best off with me, too. I can deal with her choices later.”

Owens opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. He scratched idly at one cheek. Then his eyes found Katie.

“What about you? What do you intend to do?”

“My parents are dead.” Katie’s tone was firm. “I have nothing to keep me in Kinsey.”

The old man nodded. “All right. But then there’s Gene. We can carry Natalie out, but we can’t carry both.”

Izzy looked over at Gene. Owens was right: he was too hurt to be carried out. And he’s already been through so much.

“We’ll stick with your original plan for him,” she said quietly. “He’ll stay behind for de la Rosa to find. Then he’ll get the medical care he needs.”

“He’s not going to like that,” said Katie.

“I know,” replied Izzy. “But at least he’ll be alive to get over it.”

“So now what?” asked Katie.

Izzy nodded in the direction they had taken earlier. “We can’t go back the way we came. We might run right into de la Rosa. I’d say follow the moon west until we reach the road. It won’t be easy, but I think we can make it.”

“And then?” Katie asked.

Owens said, “And then I’ll arrange to have us picked up. And for medical care for Natalie and Izzy. But that’ll take time. We’ll need a place to hole up.”

“There’s a motel up the road,” said Izzy. “Owned by the guy Denny tried to kill. Deke Frenz. He’s much sharper than he looks. I bet we could trust him to put us up and keep quiet about it.”

Owens nodded, then threw a glance back at the tree line. When he turned back, he said, “That’ll have to do for now. You guys start for the road. I’ll be right behind you.”

Katie knelt down in front of Kevin. “Hey, buddy. You ready to go?”

A shiver ran through him and he sneezed. Then his random gaze fixed on the tree line. His expression darkened.

Izzy followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything. Shrugging, she turned back to Owens.

“You’re not coming with us?”

“In a bit,” Owens said. “First, I’m going to make sure Gene gets found. Also, I want to make sure that it looks like we all died in that cave-in. I’ve picked up a few tricks over the years with this sort of thing, if you can believe it. Can each of you give me something you’re wearing?”

After they had obliged—Izzy had to tear off bits of Nat and Kevin’s clothes—Izzy gripped Nat under one armpit; Katie got a hand under the other. Together, they stood Nat up. Then, hooking each of Nat’s arms over a shoulder, they began walking away.

Kevin didn’t move. He continued to stare off into the woods.

Stopping, Izzy looked back. “Kevin, honey. Come on. We’re leaving.”

For a moment, it didn’t look as if he was going to listen to her. But he turned to face Owens. The boy stood, regarding the old man with steady eyes. Then, without saying a word, he scurried over to Izzy and Katie.

After a few steps, they stopped next to Gene. With Katie supporting Nat, Izzy bent down, whispered, “You and I aren’t done yet,” and kissed him on the lips. Standing up, she wedged her good shoulder under Natalie, and they walked into the woods.

Once they were out of sight, Bart scattered the pieces of clothing around the site. He had to adjust two of the pieces, but he was soon satisfied. It looked like bloody murder had happened in the glade.

He had to wait almost an hour. He checked on Gene. The man’s vitals were stable but he was clearly passed out. Then he took a deep breath and turned toward the tree line.

“You may as well come out,” he said. “I know you’re there.”

*   *   *

A woman emerged from the tree line. She wore a long leather jacket over dark pants and knee-high boots. As she walked toward him, the lantern light gradually dissolved the shadows obscuring her face, revealing dusky features accented by high cheekbones and full lips, hair like raven’s wings swept back from a high forehead, dun-colored eyes that slanted slightly upward.

She stopped at the edge of the light and nodded a greeting.

“Hello, Bartholomew.”

Bart nodded in return. “Marbæs.”

“It’s good to see you again,” she said, almost affectionately.

“Wish I could say the same.”

The ghost of a smile haunted her lips. “Ah, let’s be civil. After all, it has been a long time.”

Bart squared his shoulders. “What do you want, Marbæs?”

Her smile slowly faded. “Want? My dear Bartholomew, I already
had
what I wanted. But you came along and took it away.”

“Pardon me if I don’t shed a tear.”

“Very funny.” She arched one eyebrow and angled her head just so. Bart couldn’t mistake the challenge in her look. “Suppose I simply decide to take it back?”

“It? We’re talking about a boy.”

Marbæs gave a disaffected shrug. “If you say so.”

Gesturing to the collapsed cave, Bart said, “Darryl tried to take Kevin. That didn’t work out so well for him.”

“Darryl, Kölbe, Behraam, Anala….” Marbæs replied coolly. “Imperfect tools from an imperfect world. You break one, you simply find another. Oh, and speaking of tools, I found your little spy at Dr. Westwood’s office. She won’t be feeding you any more information.”

Bart’s nostrils flared. Mai Li was an intelligent, resourceful, and brave woman. Put in place by Phillip, she was the one who had alerted them about Kevin, and Darryl Webber’s interest. For almost a decade, she’d done an excellent job in a dangerous situation. And now she was gone, of that Marbaes’s words left no doubt. He felt a familiar hollowness in the pit of his stomach.

“I’ve upset you.” Marbæs nodded. “Well, you deserve it, after robbing me of my prize.”

“Yes, you’ve failed…again.” Bart’s words cut through the night. “Germany, Turkey, Armenia, Ethiopia, Mesopotamia. You keep losing battles, Marbæs. You keep coming in second.” It was his turn to smile. “To me.”

Her expression darkened. “The boy is nearby. It would only take me moments to find him.”

“And then what? Would
you
approach him? Would
you
risk death? I doubt it.”

“Or maybe I should just leave him for now,” Marbæs replied. Her eyes seemed to have vanished entirely, leaving only empty, black cavities. Bart had seen her this way before; she was losing her temper. “Maybe I should just kill you.”

And then she was standing before him, closing the distance in the span of a second. Her hand flashed through the air. It had elongated, the skin now dark and leathery. Fingers tipped with long, blade-like claws attempted to decapitate him.

Bart had anticipated her attack; after so many centuries, her patterns had become predictable. He ducked, and her arm passed harmlessly over his head. Bringing his hands together, palms out, he put his own considerable strength into his own strike. The impact sent Marbæs flying. She landed on her back, rolled to her feet. Her jacket had come open. Above her blouse, the skin on her neck had also taken on the leathery appearance; the transformation climbed up to her face, her cheeks. When she smiled, her teeth were small, sharp.

“Do you remember, Bartholomew? On the shores of the Caspian Sea, when you first awoke?”

Her voice was compelling, hypnotic—it pulled at his memories. He gathered his will, tried to resist, but she was far stronger than Webber.

Images flashed through his mind.

Albanopolis…the hot wind blowing off the Caspian…hard sky and a blazing sun…water lapping at his prone form…his body in pain, wracking agony….

“No,” Bart muttered, shaking his head. His vision cleared. Marbæs was advancing. He edged away, keeping his distance.

“Yes,” she said. “You remember. Long ago, when we first met.”

He had cried out, his back arching, shoulders digging into the sand…and then she was there…kneeling beside him with words of comfort…“let me help you”…“care for you”….

A flash of movement. He threw an arm up, barely deflecting her attack. He lunged forward to grab her, but she spun out of his reach.

“But even then,” said Marbæs, stepping to his left, “you were a stubborn man.”

He peered up at her…an oval face framed in black hair…a smile…but her eyes, they were wrong…something inside her was wrong….

“You refused me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she swept in closer. “And what a revelation it had been, discovering who you had become—what you had become. You and the others.”

Others—

The present snapped back with a clarity that was brutal. The woods hurtled into focus. The cold air scraped his skin. Oblique shafts of moonlight cut across the glade, leaving pearls of light glinting on the snow.

“That discovery nearly killed both of us.” Bart’s eyes lit on Marbæs, and she stopped her advance. Her transformation was complete—her outer beauty had surrendered itself to the ugliness of her soul.

“I grieve for you, Marbæs. How you must have hated yourself, giving everything away for this.” He gestured at her corrupted form.

“Yet here we are, the two of us—ageless walkers on an aging world.” He heard voices coming from the forest, shouts of men searching. Marbæs heard them, too: she began retreating toward the tree line. “Spare me your pity, Bartholomew. We are more alike than you care to admit.”

“In some ways, I would agree.” He hooked a finger around the chain at his neck and pulled out the tiny piece of wood attached to it. Raising it in front of his face, he added, “Then again, to become truly great, one has to stand among people, not above them.”

Marbæs had reached the edge of the woods. She paused, her gazing lingering on him or the piece of wood. He couldn’t tell which.

“The Nazarene was right about one thing,” she said, an ancient bitterness creeping into her voice. “There is no deception in you.”

And then she was gone.

The old man found an empty seat near the back of the bus.

Carefully, he secured his guitar case in the upper storage bin. Next to it he placed the army duffel—Dexter Grant’s duffel. Then he took his seat and tried to get comfortable. It was going to be a long ride back to Nashville.

From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a new paperback. He’d just gotten into the first chapter when someone stopped in the aisle.

“I’m sorry. Is this seat taken?”

Bart Owens looked up and smiled. “It’s all yours.”

Katie Bethel plopped down next to him. She wore a nondescript blue jacket, jeans, and a plain gray sweatshirt; clothes which would be hard to recall if anyone came around asking questions. Her dark hair had been cut short. Large sunglasses hid part of her face. A tan backpack went on the floor between her feet.

“Did you have any problems?” he asked.

Katie shook her head. “Kept my eyes open. Didn’t see anyone following me. Just to be sure, I walked past the stop, went down two blocks. Nothing. No one hanging back or window shopping. Still, I took a side street and hooked around. Figured I’d come up on the stop from a less obvious route. I think we’re safe.”

Bart nodded. The girl was a quick study.

“And our friends?” asked Katie.

“They’re as well as can be expected. Others are looking after them now.”

“Gene?”

“I called the hospital. He’s out of ICU. Looks like he’ll be okay. Besides, Dr. Morris is going to need his help. The man believes his wife and daughter died.”

Stanley Morris had finally woken from his coma. When told about the fate of his family, he had broken down and cried.

Still, Katie looked uncertain.

“Something wrong?” Bart asked.

“It’s just….” Katie’s voice trailed off.

“You don’t like leaving Gene behind?”

Katie shrugged, then nodded. “He almost died helping us. It doesn’t seem fair to go on without him.”

Bart turned to face her. “Life is rarely fair, Katie. If you stay on this bus, you’d better be prepared to learn that—often the hard way. If you don’t think you can handle it, there’s still time to get off.”

He hated being so blunt, but this was a crucial moment in her life.

Katie’s unflinching gaze held him for a dozen heartbeats. “My mom died for no good reason.” She looked around to make sure they were alone, then added, “Torn apart by that creature. Was that fair? My dad killed himself, leaving me behind to wonder why he wanted death more than me. Was
that
fair?” She settled back into her seat. “Don’t talk to me about fair. I’ll handle anything you throw at me.”

Bart smiled. “I had to be sure.”

Katie’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry. Guess I’m still a little on edge.”

Settling into his seat, Bart said, “Aren’t we all.”

The End

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