The Beast of Barcroft (18 page)

“What's it doing?” asked Cushing.

“ ‘The land
otter
man,' ” whispered Ben. “It's trying to get to deeper water!”

“I'll go after it,” said Lindsay.

“You need to stay with Stacy.”

“You chauvinist ass—”

“No, you don't understand,” said Ben. He held up the badge. “It's because of this. The badge stopped him.”

“Then give it to me,” she said.

“It won't work for you.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do, Lindsay!” Something in his voice cut off further protests. “Get her back to the car!” he said and bolted downstream.

Behind him, he heard, “Yeah, Officer, about your car…”

S
ATURDAY,
N
OVEMBER 22

Ben chased the beast's torpedo-like form south as it darted easily between the rocks. Even pierced with the fire poker, the handle jutting from its back like a planted flag, the beast outpaced Ben. He abandoned the slippery rocks and the small rapids for the tangled shoreline.

He saw a thin stream of orange phosphorescence trailing out from behind the creature's wound. Ben kept after it, barely keeping up. He did not know how long he ran. All he was aware of was the pulsing in his hand, the inexplicable warmth he felt despite the damp and the chill. He felt no pain, no fatigue. Even the anger had dissipated. It was like he was in a dream. He could have chased it forever. Soon the walls of the canyon shortened as the stream rose out of the gorge. Or the world sank to them, he did not know. He followed it under Columbia Pike. Then back through the woods until he could see the lights of buildings yet again. He threaded through the green, along the banks, up onto parallel trails, trying to keep pace. He could hear the occasional car on the road, now not far above his head, sweeping its lights across the dark water, unaware of what the shadowy circulatory system coursing through Arlington carried. Weaving silently between the neighborhoods, right under everyone's noses.

The shallow stream, encrusted with large rocks and tiny rapids, broadened. Ben looked ahead. Around a bend, he saw Four Mile Run widen and deepen, becoming a small river. Open water. He would never be able to catch it then. He poured on the speed. He gained. With a final burst of energy, he sprinted to the bend. When he had pulled even alongside the beast, he leapt.

Ben was not sure if he ever touched the water, let alone the beast. The repulsion threw him back onto the shore. It felt as if he had been hit by a car. He landed on his side and something snapped in his arm. When he opened his mouth to yell, he realized the wind had been knocked out of him and he could not find his breath. He struggled to his feet. He discovered that his arm would not respond to his commands and hung limp, and the pain surrounding his chest told him he had a broken rib or two. Despite the pain, he looked into his hands. Empty.

He heard crackling.

He saw the beast on the opposite bank, changing again. It arched its back, limbs lengthening, its features flowing like lava until it resembled a man on its hands and knees. It struggled to pull the poker through its chest, but between the thick handle and the hook at the tip, the poker was still secure. It would not budge. Ben heard its panting from the other shore, ten yards away.

Ben got to his feet in knee-deep water. His head swam and the world teetered around him. The badge was gone. Without it, Ben could feel the biting chill of the November air against his wet skin again. The water was worse. He tried to get his breathing under control, which felt as if it came through a flattened straw, and to slow the beating of his heart, which felt like it would rupture. He thought he could swim to it, but the water felt like tiny daggers in his feet and shins. And he knew that swimming to fight something called the water devil was not something he could manage even if he was in perfect shape. A car passed on the road overhead. He readied himself for the beast's attack.

The
kushtaka
rose. From this distance, and in the darkness, Ben could see only the silhouette, but he knew instantly what form it had chosen. It was larger than the man had ever been, but on the opposite bank there was no one else and no context to judge its size against. And up close, the details would be wrong, Ben was sure. The tawny hair should be black, like it was in the older pictures on Ben's bookshelf, or white, as it had been in his final years. It was an abomination, a perversion, but it was close enough.

And that was when Ben knew he had won.

The beast's shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Its hands dangled at its sides. It stared at Ben with its glowing eyes, dimmer now. A rivulet of the same color trickled from where the poker had burst through its chest. Maybe it had wanted to anger Ben enough to call him across the water like some twisted siren. Or maybe it was the beast's last gambit, a call for mercy. Whatever its reason for choosing that form, it was no longer trying to terrify him. It was desperate. Whatever the reason, it did not matter.

Ben had nothing left.

It took all of his energy to stand up straight, but he did. He squared his shoulders. When he was able, he said, “Don't come back here.”

The beast nodded.

It pitched forward, plodding into the thick mud of the bank. For a moment, Ben thought it might fall, but it staggered toward the water. It labored to the center of the small river, spent and wounded, and submerged. After a moment, the surface roiled. Small waves lapped at Ben's legs. He heard the occasional pop, muffled by the water now, as it transformed itself yet again. Ben did not know into what, but it didn't matter. With a final thrash, the
kushtaka
shot forward, the wake trailing behind the poker handle in a V. Ben watched it go.

He stood there, facing east, toward the airport in the distance, where Four Mile Run emptied into the Potomac, then the Potomac into the Chesapeake, and the Chesapeake into wherever this devil had come from. Ben stood where he was until he could no longer see the ripples of its trail on the water.
Just to be sure,
he told himself, but in his heart, he knew the ordeal was over. Even the slick of orange phosphorescence the beast had left behind on the surface of the dark water was gone. Satisfied, Ben trudged out of the river. He felt as wrung out as the first thing that ever hauled itself out of the muck. He scaled the embankment, pulling himself along with his good arm, clutching at brambles and weeds and the leafless branches of stunted trees. It may as well have been Everest. Finally, he emerged onto the trail above Four Mile Run, wretched and shivering.

A busy street paralleled the trail and on the other side of it was an apartment complex. Even at this hour, he could see a man walking a dog on the other side of the street. Cars rushed between them, sweeping their lights over Ben's muddy, battered figure for a moment, then continuing on. He raised a bloodied hand, but none stopped. The man with the dog hurried on. To his right, two elderly Hispanic men who had seen him emerge from the brush hustled away. One of them crossed himself. To his left, Ben saw a cluster of buildings in the distance. He headed toward those. He noticed absently that some of them were festooned with holiday lights. The trees and streetlights too.
Already,
he thought.

M
ONDAY,
D
ECEMBER 22

It was a winter wonderland. Every year, the National Zoo strung thousands of holiday lights and wound them through the walking trails. Lit animal silhouettes gave the illusion that they swayed by blinking on and off in time with the classical music pumped through the grounds. The zoo extended its hours to the public and gave free walking tours for the patrons to view the lights and even visit the habitats of nocturnal animals and other attractions, like the Small Mammal House, Great Ape House, Reptile Discover Center, Think Tank, and Kids' Farm. The warm scents of hot chocolate, donuts, and kettle corn floated above the heavier, everyday animal smells.

It was exhausting, thought Lindsay.

Thankfully, the Great Cats exhibit required no extra work, but Lindsay pitched in after hours with the other habitats. She gave walking tours, filling in for the docents on vacation. The harder she worked during the day, the easier the struggle to fall asleep at night. For the moment, she hid in her workspace, shielding herself from the cold, from fatigue, and even from holiday cheer with a steaming cup of coffee. It was her fourth cup that morning, but she still felt like she could fall asleep on the spot. She was lamenting that it never felt that way at home when a breathless docent ran into her office.

“Someone's threatening to jump into the habitat!”

Her stomach flipped. She lunged for the phone at her desk, spilling her coffee. “Damn it!”

“Security's already there, Lindsay. He says he wants to talk to
you
.”

“Me?”

By the time Lindsay retrieved her coat and followed the docent outside and onto the Great Cats trail that surrounded the outdoor exhibit, the zoo was abuzz. Security guards were already herding people down the trail and away as Lindsay marched up. The Great Cats habitat was actually a terraced jungle island, dotted on every level with bamboo thickets and dens, and topped with great oaks and Himalayan pines. The island sloped down to the pond that encircled the habitat like a moat. The pond and the entire habitat were further ringed by a large, steep wall that was level with the upper terrace on the island. Though the wall was only waist-high from the trail, the drop into the pond was several feet down. Now every time she saw it, it reminded her of the gorge at Four Mile Run.

He had climbed over the two-foot-wide hedge, an environmental barrier before you could even reach the wall, to stand on the edge. He was dressed for work, in a suit and a long black coat snapping in the wind, and he was chatting with the security guards, who very clearly itched to pounce on him but could not for fear that he would topple backward.

“There she is,” said Ben. “You guys can roll out now, thanks.”

“That's not how it works, sir,” a middle-aged guard said through gritted teeth. “Please, won't you let us help you down?”

“Are you out of your damn mind?” shouted Lindsay.

“Come on,” said Ben, gesturing toward the island in the center of the lake. “You really think I'm afraid of these kittens? After everything we've seen?”

“You should be afraid of
me,
you idiot!”

“You wouldn't return my calls.”

“So you thought I would respond better if you re-created the worst memory of my life?”

“Huh?”

“The polar bear?”

“Oh.”

“Oh, he says.”

The middle-aged guard, Sam, whispered to Lindsay, “You really know this screwjob?”

She looked at Ben. It looked as if it was beginning to dawn on him just what he had done.

“He's…my cousin,” she said.

“Either way, say the word and I'll tase him.”

“I can hear you. If you tase me, I'll fall into the pit.”

“Shut up, Ben.” She turned to the guard. “I'm really sorry. He's…off his meds. If I can get him down, can we please forget this?”

“Lindsay, this is a big deal.”

“I'll owe you. Please.”

Sam looked at the man on the ledge as if bile had come up in his throat, then nodded. He turned to the other guards and said, “Give them some room.”

“It's cold out here, Ben,” said Lindsay. “Make it fast.”

“I…can I take you to lunch?”

“You're breaking the law, terrifying parents, and jeopardizing my job to see if I wanted to grab a bite? You
betrayed
me, Ben.”

“I came to apologize.”

“I'll put it on your tab.
Now go
.”

She started back down the path.

“Lindsay, I can't sleep.”

She hesitated, but did not turn back.

“I don't know what to do. With all of it. I can't sleep. Are you sleeping?”

She looked up at him. His wrist was still casted below the hem of his coat sleeve. Wrapped in his black coat, standing against the gray December sky, he looked thinner, worn out. And very alone.

“I can wrap my head around monsters,” he said, “but I can't sleep knowing you hate me.”

“Jesus, come down before I tase you myself.”

Ben offered her a tired smile as they both warmed themselves with coffee in a café on Connecticut Avenue.

“So,” she asked, “how's the cat?”

“You mean Gus.”

“Gus?”

“I thought it sounded tough. He's a tough cat.”

“So you like cats now?”

“I like
this
cat.”

“Uh-huh?” she said, grinning.

“Look, I wanted you to know why I did what I did.”

She remembered the look he had given her that night, when she told him she was coming with him. She shifted in her seat. “Ben, look, you don't have—”

“Relax, Lindsay. Stacy and I are seeing each other.”

“The cop? I did not see that coming.”

“It's your fault.”

“My fault?”

“I wasn't in a very good place when you and I met. After my father, my fiancée. Anything I tried just sort of…muffled my problems. I just tried to power through, you know? Then my dog got killed and I realized I'd better snap out of it. And then I met you.” He looked out the window at the passersby with their collars turned up against the wind.

“Of course I was going to fall for you. You're perfect. Well,” he said, smiling, “almost perfect. But I'm not an idiot. I never deluded myself. I was just glad that that part of me was awake again. The part that could feel things. Other than anger anyway. It was nice. And I'd be damned if I was going to let that thing touch a hair on your head. I would rather have you alive and never forgive me than dead and me never forgive myself.”

“Your plan didn't quite work.”

“No, it did not. And I'll never forgive myself for that. You in that car…I have more nightmares about that than anything else.”

“Ben, it's okay. You were trying to protect me. We were both in uncharted waters.”

“I never thought you couldn't handle yourself. I've felt safer with you than I have with anyone. If we're keeping score, I'm pretty sure you pulled me out of the fire more than the other way around.”

“And when I pull you out of a fire, it's a real fire.”

“Pennies from heaven,” said Ben, then his eyes watered and his face reddened and he stared into his coffee cup.

“What?” she asked.

Ben struggled to speak and when he did his voice was thick. “Do you think that if such a terrible thing exists, something we don't understand, then there's something just as good out there that we don't understand?”

“I hope so.”

“When I held that badge in my hand,” he said, then stopped, unable to continue. He concentrated on his coffee.

Lindsay placed her hand on his. With his casted hand, he knuckled tears away.

“Jesus. The waterworks…I haven't been able to stop.”

“It's okay,” she said, “it's normal.”

“Normal,” he said with a laugh. “Urine, fire, copper. That's what Alex told us. But I did some digging. I called my father's old precinct. Their badges—his badge—were made of
nickel
. It wasn't copper at all. But holding it, I felt…full.
More
. I can't explain it and I don't know where to put it.”

“Maybe nickel works on it too. Or the ash on the poker had some effect. Or some other combination, I don't know. There could be any number of possibilities.”

“You're probably right.”

She watched him, framed in the window, staring out to the street.

“Or maybe there is something more out there,” she said. “Something
good
.”

“That's not very scientific. But it's nice of you to say.”

“Hey, we scientists love a good balance.”

Ben took a deep breath and exhaled. “Have you seen Severance?”

“Not since his lawyer showed up and spirited us away.”

“Sorry I missed that.”

She shook her head. “There's a house on fire, a dead woman inside, Richard is sliced to ribbons, and there's a giant Native American with a knife in his gut. He didn't even need the lawyer. By the time one showed up, Arlington County PD was ready to pin medals on him and Alex for trying to pull a woman from a burning building, and the Virginia Medical Center was planning to break ground on the Richard Severance wing. I wasn't about to argue and neither was Cushing. He had Alex moved—I don't know where—but Richard called me from some island and told me he was recuperating nicely and going to be fine. It was hard to hear over the steel drums.”

“He called me too. Only to put me on notice that he might call again.”

Lindsay cocked her head.

“He said that I think enough like a monster that I might be useful someday.”

“That's his idea of a compliment,” she said, “and a job offer.”

“I think I'll be screening my calls, thanks.”

After they finished their meals, Ben picked up the check. Lindsay did not argue. They stepped out onto the street and into the chill.

“Big holiday plans?” he asked.

“Faith's in Colorado. Skiing with her family. You and Stacy?”

“
Way
too soon for that. Besides, she's down south visiting her family.” He jerked his thumb toward his car. “Anyway, I'm this way.”

“And I'm this way.”

“Again, sorry about the zoo.”

“You can't help it. You're an asshole.”

Ben laughed. “I get that a lot.”

She surprised him then with an awkward hug. After a moment, he brought his arms up and returned it and they stood there together on the sidewalk beside busy Connecticut Avenue, holding each other like any other pair of friends among the bustle of the season.

“Take care,” she said.

“Okay then.”

He spun on his heel and walked away quickly. She watched him recede. The wind whipped at his coat and he stuffed his unbandaged hand into its pocket. He hunched forward a bit, into the wind, but he looked looser now too. Lighter.

“Ben!” she called.

He stopped and turned.

“If you're not doing anything on Christmas, do you want to grab dinner? Catch a movie or something?”

Ben smiled. “God, yes.”