Prowlers - 1 (19 page)

could taunt a guy to death with a flyswatter or beat him unconscious with a rake.

Even as these thoughts raced through Jack's head, the action erupted onscreen. Jack shifted in his seat to get more comfortable. As he did so, he glanced again at the girl in the front row.

Artie was standing beside her.

Jack started, spilling a little popcorn. Molly looked at him with concern, but he reassured her with a sheepish grin. Just me being a goof, he tried to communicate to her.

Then he looked at Artie again. The ghost seemed even more translucent than ever, there in the

already spectral glow of the movie screen. Artie's body was almost black because there was only darkness behind him, but he stood tall enough that his head and shoulders were in front of the screen, and through them, Jack could still see the movie playing. He could barely make out Artie's facial features, but he knew his dead friend was looking at him.

Jack wanted to speak, to say something to Artie, but that might have sent the couple behind him into a rage, and besides, he didn't want Molly to think he was nuts.

Fortunately, Artie spoke first.

"You gotta get outta here, bro. Now. Seriously."

Jack glanced at Molly. She hadn't heard anything. Nobody shushed Artie. It was true, then. No one else could see or hear him.

"You're not listening, Jack. Take Molly and get out of here right now. They're here, don't you get it? They must have gotten your scent at Fenway or something,

and they've been tracking you. I just heard about it a few minutes ago and I came as quick as I could, but if you don't get out of here, there'll be no one left to stop these things."

Artie began to walk toward Jack through the rows of seats, his insubstantial legs swirling into mist as he passed through metal and cloth. As he drew closer, Jack could see his face better, could see the fear etched there, and the pinpoint holes of his eyes, windows into another world, into the Ghostlands.

He stopped two rows away.

Jack fidgeted, unsure what to do. Could he drag Molly out of there without explaining why they had to go?

Right through Artie, he noticed the girl in the front row start to fidget as well. She did not glance at Jack this time, but she tilted her head back slightly and began to sniff the air where Artie had been standing, as if she could smell him, knew he had been there. She frowned.

Slowly, she turned to look at Jack.

Jesus, he thought fearfully, as he tried to keep his face from revealing his sudden terror.

"Dammit, Jack, get out of here!" Artie screamed.

The girl looked back up at the screen. Jack nodded quickly to Artie and leaned over to Molly. He took her arm and when she glanced at him, he gestured with a jerk of his head that they needed to go.

"What's wrong?" she asked. 'Are you—"

Jack put a finger to his lips, but Molly was not going

to leave without knowing why. He could not have blamed her. There were maybe ten minutes left in the movie. But Artie was right. The last thing he wanted was to walk out of there with Prowlers following. In the back of his mind he saw the security guards being torn apart in Fenway Park, heard the sounds of it again, and tried to block it all out.

"We've gotta go right now," he told her in the quietest whisper he could manage. He looked to Artie for support—though it wasn't as though Molly could have heard him. Artie was gone.

Molly still wasn't getting it. She opened her mouth to argue. Jack glanced for a microsecond at the girl in the front row, the girl who had sniffed the air, and then back at Molly. He leaned in again.

"Do you want to end up like Artie and Kate?" he asked.

Her face blanched, all color seeping out of it until she was as pale as death. Silently Jack put his popcorn tub on the floor of the theater, took one more look at the girl— She's not a girl, his mind screamed—in the front row, and then stood up to lead Molly out of the theater.

'Aw, come on!" snapped the guy behind them, whose view of the screen was blocked for a moment by their sudden departure.

No! Jack thought in alarm. It was too late. The guy's voice had drawn the wrong kind of attention. As Molly stepped out into the aisle with him, Jack peered down at the front of the theater and saw that the girl with the huge eyes was staring back at him.

He knew she wasn't what she appeared to be. When she met his eyes, she must have seen that he knew, because she smiled. Her teeth seemed impossibly long, remarkably bright, there in the dark of the theater.

"Hurry," Jack muttered, and he put a hand on Molly's back to hustle her up the aisle.

Just before they left the theater, he glanced back one final time.

The girl from the front row was gone.

On the other side of the theater, two other people had gotten up from their seats and were moving up the aisle.

Jack's heart started to beat wildly.

"Go!" he shouted at Molly.

They ran through the lobby. The concession stand guy and the ticket taker looked at them as though they were lunatics, but said nothing. When they burst out the door and onto the sidewalk, Molly was shouting at him.

"Jack, you're scaring me!" she said, her voice edged with panic. "What are you talking about, end up like—"

He grabbed her arms, spun her around to look at him, gazed deep into her eyes to make sure she knew how serious he was. "Haven't you been watching the news? The things that killed Artie and Kate have killed a lot of other people. Right now they're after us!"

Back in the lobby, he spotted two guys coming out of the Jackie Chan film early. Still no sign of the girl, but

he knew she was there. Somewhere nearby, stalking them. Night had fallen and cars sped by on Tremont Street, but there weren't too many people walking around—enough for there to be witnesses, but not enough to keep them from dying.

Molly threw up her hands. "How do you—"

"Run!" he shouted.

He pulled her into the street. A cab slammed on its brakes, tires squealing, and the driver leaned on his horn. A couple of other drivers also beeped, but Jack and Molly ran across Tremont to the edge of the park He didn't bother turning around to see if they were being followed. The Prowlers were there, Jack knew.

We're being hunted.

CHAPTER 9

Most of Boston Common was abandoned after dark Basic logic dictated that the winding paths, out of sight of the street, weren't safe after the sun went down. But at the fringes of the Common a number of people were still about, particularly by the Park Street Station, which jutted out of the Common where Park Street met Tremont as if it had simply erupted there one night. No pretzel or flower vendors at this hour, but several homeless people were meandering about, and one ragged-looking man was standing in front of the T station entrance, coin-filled cup in hand.

Jack brushed past him without slowing down, knocking his cup to the concrete. The man screamed obscenities at him and threw a punch meant to hit Molly, but he was too slow. The coins jangled as they rolled around on the ground, but by then Molly and Jack were inside the station.

"Wait, Jack!" Molly shouted.

He pulled her by the hand, but Molly stood her ground and forced him to turn.

"Not now, Molly!" he snapped.

"Yes, now! What the hell's going on? What did you mean about Artie and Kate. I don't—"

Outside, beyond the doors, the homeless guy who knelt on the ground picking up coins started shouting at someone else. Jack stared through the glass doors to the station and locked eyes with one of the two men who had rushed out of the movie. He had perfect hair and sideburns, a ratty leather jacket, and eyes like the burning-ember tips of cigarettes. Jack barely noticed his partner, a broad-shouldered bald man with a face chiseled in stone.

Those ember eyes terrified him.

"Oh, God," he whispered.

"Jack?" Molly asked, more afraid than angry now.

That was good. He wanted her afraid. Even as she said his name, she glanced back at the doors to see what he was staring at, what had spooked him. She saw them.

"Them?" she asked. "Are they—"

When the man with ember eyes reached out to open the door to the T station, Jack grabbed Molly's hand again, screamed at her, and hauled her toward the turnstiles. They had no tokens. Without a moment's pause Jack grabbed Molly around the waist and practically tossed her over the turnstile, then leaped over after her.