Voracious (24 page)

“But—” Noah shook his head, looked down. Ran a hand over his face, wiping blood out of his eye. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t he come after you?”

Madeline had no idea why. She stood there silently. “What happened?”

After a moment, Noah looked back up at her. “We fought, but I didn’t have the knife, so it wasn’t much of a struggle.”

She cut in. “I found the pack and came back with the knife, but I couldn’t find you.”

“I’m glad you’ve still got it. We crashed through the cabin, ended up breaking through the back door. I took off down a path in the back. He came after me …” His voice trailed off.

“Go on.”

“He gave me one hell of a swipe to the head. I went unconscious. As I faded out, I heard him move off in your direction.” He looked down her intently. “I thought he’d get you for sure.”

“Well, if he had come after me, I would have been ready.” She thought of the knife lying safe in the backpack.

“Damn, you’re tough.” He held her again, but she didn’t feel so tough. She was scared. Damn scared.

“So where do you think he is now?” she asked, hugging him again, placing her head on his shoulder.

They parted. “I don’t know. But I think we should get out of here. Fast.”

“I’m with you on that.” She looked around at the deepening shadows, wondering what they hid. “Let’s go.”

As they walked to the car, he asked her, “Where were you going?”

She shrugged. “To hike out.”

“Just like old times, eh?” he laughed.

“I wasn’t looking forward to the seven-mile hike back. As much as I love hiking, fleeing down a mountainside because I’m in mortal peril is getting really old.” She paused. Then, looking around she said, “Do you think he’ll find us again? I mean, back at the cabin in Apgar?”

Noah gingerly touched the wound on his cheek. “At this point, I don’t feel like we’re safe anywhere.”

She took in his injuries. “I think I should drive. You’re in no shape. Do you have a first aid kit?”

He shook his head. “I think it’s back at the cabin. But give me another hour. My leg and neck will be just fine.”

She gazed at him in amazement. “Not even Neosporin?”

He laughed.

Noah opened the doors to the Jeep, Madeline checking the back end about five times before she was convinced the creature wasn’t in there,

“It’s not back there,” Noah said finally. “Really. I don’t think it can change into a box of snow chains. At least, not a very convincing box of snow chains.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re the expert.” Hefting herself into the Jeep, she said, “Are you coming or what?”

Noah shook his head, a bemused smile on his lips as he climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

“Should we return to our cabin?” she asked.

“It’s too late to go anywhere else tonight.” After a long pause, he added, “Are you going home now? I mean, now that you say you aren’t in danger?”

Madeline climbed into the driver’s seat quietly, resisting the urge to say yes. She was a changed person when it came to her gift. At least, she was trying to be. Finally she shook her head. “No,” she said at last. “I told you I’d help you track him, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Suddenly reality dawned upon her. She thought of the centuries Noah had been tirelessly tracking the creature. He still hadn’t succeeded in killing him. Classes started in San Francisco in just two months. This was her chance at a normal college life. What was she supposed to do? Postpone classes? She stopped that train of thought. They had two months. Two whole months. And there was a difference now. Until now Noah didn’t have her gift aiding him. Now they would know where the creature was. And for now, she knew it would stay close to her, at least until it chose its next victim.

“I’m starving,” he said suddenly, cutting into her thoughts. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded.

“There’s got to be someplace to eat near the campground.”

“No cheese and crackers tonight?”

He shook his head. “There’s a diner out on Route 2. Great omelets.”

Her stomach grumbled at the thought of it.

“But don’t you even want to clean the cuts?”

“That’s what restaurant bathrooms are for.”

“Of course.” She threw the Jeep in gear.

At the diner, a rotund waitress in a burgundy apron and large-collared white dress seated them by a window. The diner was of ’50s cinder-block construction, the exterior painted utilitarian gray like an old bomb shelter. Heck, maybe it was one, Madeline thought. But she didn’t care. She was starving.

Bright neon signs in the window advertised a Breakfast Special and four kinds of beer.

Inside, attempts at cheery decoration included enough plastic flowers and plants to open their own craft store, and vases at every table held genuine carnations in reds, pinks, and whites.

They sat down in a vinyl-seated booth, the material creaking as they squeezed in.

The waitress, after giving Noah a long, disdainful look, as if he’d been out picking fights in the local bars, gave them each a menu and walked away. Noah excused himself for the men’s room and returned ten minutes later, looking infinitely better. He was right; he healed fast. Already the swelling in his eye had receded, and he could now open both eyes. The wounds in his neck and stomach were mere scratches, and the gash in his leg had almost closed completely, just a thin, red line visible through the tear in his jeans.

They made small talk while they glanced at the menu, resuming again after the waitress took their order. Noah looked nervous, glancing out of the large windows now and again at the darkened parking lot. When he wasn’t doing that, he studied her intently as she sipped the steaming cup of coffee that tasted like two-day-old peanut shells soaked in hot water. For once he seemed at a loss for words and kept unusually quiet as they munched on their omelets and steaming French toast drenched in maple syrup.

She glanced around at the other customers, most of them middle-aged men and women wearing ranchers’ clothes: worn overalls, warm corduroy shirts, and almost all the men in wide-brimmed cowboy hats. She loved that none of them stared at her or whispered surreptitiously. She was a total stranger here.

Country music played softly from a tinny speaker above them. A man sang about his “girl” in a mournful voice, crooning that he would have loved her forever, even if it took all night.

An electronic bell chimed as another customer entered the diner. Madeline turned to look at him and froze. It was Steve, the naturalist.

Or something pretending to be Steve.

He walked in, giving the waitress an easy smile and removed his ranger’s hat. With one hand he fluffed his sandy brown hair to get rid of his hat hair and began following her to a table on the other side of the restaurant. He walked with a bad limp.

Madeline dipped her head low so the creature wouldn’t see her and turned to Noah.

“Noah!” she said low, urgently.

He looked up in midsip. “What is it?”

“Stefan!” she whispered.

Noah started, coffee spilling over the table. He winced as it burned his hand, then put the cup down. “Where?”

“Over there.” She gestured with her head. “He’s being seated, impersonating Steve. Just like he did when he wrecked his car.” When Noah remained silent, she went on. “That can’t be Steve. You said the creature could only appear as someone it had killed, so what I saw that night in the ditch, the creature imitating Steve, must mean that he had killed him earlier that night.”

Noah wrinkled his brow. “Only look like someone he’s killed?”

She nodded. “Right?”

Noah swallowed hard. “Right.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” he cleared his throat, looking over at Steve. “Just so many victims.”

“What should we do?” she asked, leaning closer to him across the table. “Confront him? Jump him in the rest-room?”

“We shouldn’t let him see us. Let’s just leave.”

Madeline’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Noah just stared back at her.

“But you’ve been waiting for this opportunity. Let’s lure him outside and tackle him.”

Suddenly, as she watched him from across the table, he ducked his head low and turned it toward the window.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“He’s coming over here.”

“What?” Fear flopped in her stomach. She turned slowly. “Steve” was walking quickly toward their table.

“Madeline!” he said. “I can’t believe it’s you. I saw you from across the restaurant. Thought you’d be gone by now!” He continued toward her, limping severely. She sat transfixed, watching him approach. To her amazement, he walked right up to the table. “Can I sit down? My leg’s killing me. And I have to talk to you. You won’t believe what’s happened.”

Her mouth went dry. Her limbs felt heavy as sledgehammers, and still she sat, immobile, as she watched him. Here he was, the creature, in the middle of this well-lit diner, talking to her as if nothing was wrong. His gall was unbelievable.

She was blocked into the booth, “Steve” standing in her exit path. Noah just sat there silently, his face unreadable, almost frozen.

And then, to her amazement, Noah scooted over and offered “Steve” a seat.

“Thanks a lot, man,” he responded, and plunked down next to him in the booth.

The thing pretending to be a naturalist leaned across the table and whispered to her. “You won’t believe what happened. I never should have doubted you!”

She listened, half-dumbfounded by Noah’s behavior and half trying to figure out how she could make it out to the Jeep to grab the backpack and the weapon.

“Steve” continued talking. “So last night, after I dropped you off, I kept on toward Missoula. I wasn’t two miles away when all of a sudden I see this dark shape standing at the edge of the treeline. At first it’s upright, like the shadow of a man just at the edge of the road. Then, as I get a little closer, it drops down on all fours. My headlights lit it up. It charged straight for my car.”

He fell silent and glanced around at the other tables to see if anyone was listening. They weren’t. Above him the speaker piped out a sad ballad about a dejected man who would do anything to get his lady back. Madeline was beginning to notice a pattern.

“It rammed into my car. Full tilt. Smash. Completely creamed the driver’s side. I swerved off the road and into a ditch. The thing came around and opened the passenger door, started climbing in. It was terrifying: absolutely inky black and featureless, more like a shadow than a living thing. But it had eyes—I’ll never forget them; huge red saucer eyes—and a mouth full of pointed teeth. It tore a huge gash in my leg.

“I pulled out my shotgun and shot it. Two times at point-blank range. Right in the head and chest. It let out this howl and flew back into the ditch. I reloaded, hit it again. I tried to get out of my side of the car but couldn’t. I could already smell gas spilling out, so I quickly climbed out of the passenger side.” He looked around again. No one was even glancing over at them. “And can you believe that thing started to get up? I reloaded and fired the rest of my rounds into its chest and ran like hell.”

She watched him as he talked. His voice, mannerisms, eyes, all seemed like Steve. She hadn’t known the naturalist for very long, but even still, she’d felt a kinship with him. They read the same books. Had similar interests and beliefs. Some people you just liked right away and felt a strong connection to. Steve had been one of those people. Suddenly she was starting to have doubts that this was in fact the creature.

“It’s got to be the same thing you saw, right?”

She didn’t answer.

He continued. “I hiked for a long time, my leg killing me, and eventually reached this ranger’s residence. We radioed for backup. But when we got back there, my car had exploded and burned through a meadow on the side of the road. There was no sign of the creature. No body. No remains. Just the smoldering meadow and strewn car parts.”

She looked at Noah, who was listening intently to the ranger. “What happened then?” he asked.

Steve shrugged. “An EMT fixed my leg. I got stitches and some codeine. Went back to my cabin.” He regarded Madeline intently. “And regretted not doing more to help you,” he added.

“You were plenty of help,” she said, leaning even more toward believing him.

“Why didn’t you get the hell away from here?” Steve asked.

She stared at Noah. “I thought I could help,” she said finally. Reaching across the table, she squeezed Noah’s hand. He seemed surprised, but then he squeezed her hand back.

She suddenly thought of a way she could know for sure. She looked uncertainly across the table at the naturalist. “Could I see where it scratched you?” she asked.

Steve raised his eyebrows in shock. “Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘scratched,’ more like ‘took a chunk out of my leg.’ What, are you into the gory stuff? Shark victims, bear attacks, that kind of thing?”

She shook her head. “It would just put my mind to rest about something.” If this was actually Steve, then the wound would still look fresh.

Steve shrugged. “Okay,” he said finally. “But you probably want to finish your dinner first.”

Just then the waitress approached and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Steve. “Just want to sit here, hon?”

“Sure,” he said, then looked at Noah and Madeline. “If that’s okay with you two.”

“Oh, perfectly,” Noah said, trying to make him feel at ease.

Madeline found she couldn’t eat another bite of omelet until she knew for sure if the person at their table was her new friend or her relentless pursuer.

At her insistence, the three of them went out to the parking lot. Steve wore the kind of pants that zipped off into shorts, and he zipped off the bottom half of the left pant leg. Pulling the leg up, he revealed a blood-soaked bandage covering his thigh. Gently he peeled away the white first aid tape on one side and revealed a hideously long gash in his thigh. Brown stitches, over thirty total, ran the course of the wound, which seeped blood at the edges.

Gasping, Madeline took in the severity of the wound, sucking in breath and wincing.

Noah gave a long, low whistle.