The Siege (38 page)

“Oh, Jesus!” Donna said with a gasp.

“Huh?” Dale said. He still wasn’t sure how this was all going to end, but the situation was improving.

“That cop back there,” Donna said, her throat as raw as sandpaper. “If he stops Rodgers, he’s…”

“Oh, shit,” Dale said as the full import sunk in. “The only way Rodgers is going to get out of explaining what he’s doing, driving like this on back roads at night, is to…”

“Do to
him
what he did to Larry!” Donna finished for him.

“But we’re safe for now,” Dale said, finding little joy in the thought that the cop back there, whoever he was, was going to be dead soon (
sort of dead
, he thought with a shiver), just so they could live. And that didn’t take care of anything!

Rodgers still wasn’t going to be found out!

He and Donna were still in serious trouble!

And where was Winfield? Once Winfield heard the tape, he might be convinced. But all of this was turning into some insane nightmare, and they still had no way of getting out of it without ending up dead… or worse!

“We’ve got to check out at your parents’ house, first,” Dale said. He rounded a curve and the cop’s blue light disappeared. A frigid chill hit his stomach as he imagined what would happen next back there on that lonely stretch of road.

Probably what happened to Larry last Friday night
, he thought.

“There’s a dirt road up ahead. I don’t think we passed it yet. That’ll take us over to Mayall Road, just above Beaver Brook Lake,” Donna said. “We might be able to tell if Winfield’s been out to the house yet.”

“It’s as good an idea as any,” Dale said tightly.

A large part of his mind was screaming at him to turn around and go back to where they had left the cop. By now, Rodgers had probably been pulled over, shown his license and car registration, was now explaining, in his honey-smooth radio announcer’s voice, that he was driving to pick up a body. Because the car ahead of him had been going so fast, he had just sort of not paid attention to his speed.

“
Sixty-five, officer? Really? Isn’t it funny how sometimes it just doesn’t seem like you’re going that fast?
”

And then what?

As the cop was putting his registration back into the glove compartment, Rodgers would pull out a gun or perhaps a scalpel. It would all happen so fast, the cop would be caught completely by surprise. He’d be crumpling to the pavement, his life seeping from him, before he could begin to react or think. He’d look up at the towering black trees surrounding the road, and he’d simply slip away into nothing.

And then…
then
, what?

Rodgers would take his body back to the funeral home. The cop would become something he would have thought impossible. His lifeless body would be filled with a drug that, while not restoring the true fire of life, would bring back the semblance of life. And in his death-clouded brain, would there be a spark left of the person he had been? Would he
know
that he had once been warm, living flesh and blood? Or would he simply, mindlessly lurch, like a puppet on strings, to do what his master Franklin Rodgers commanded him to do?

Dale shuddered at the thought, and it was only with supreme effort that he didn’t scream his lungs out. The road and the surrounding night-stained trees became little more than blurs as he drove ahead, trying to block from his mind what had probably, by now, already happened back there.

VIII

W
hen Officer Brooks heard the front door shake and then open, he assumed that the man and woman who had just been there had decided, after all, that it wasn’t a personal matter; he could help them just as easily as Winfield could. He stood up and came around the corner of his desk, a smile on his face as he called out.

He took a step back, though, when he saw that it wasn’t the man and woman returning. At first, he didn’t recognize her. Her face was so pale, and her eyes were opened wide as she looked up at him. The ceiling lights reflected on the glistening curves of her eyes. Her teeth were chattering, and it took Brooks several seconds to realize that this was Lisa Grant. He couldn’t imagine why she was out on a cold night like this wearing only thin pajamas. She was barefooted, and her feet had left streaked, muddy splotches on the tiled floor.

“For cryin’ out loud, Lisa,” he said as he took only a few steps closer to her. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me tonight?”

Lisa looked at him in spite of the bright lights. His face distorted, as though it was made of plastic that had gotten too close to the heat. To Lisa, his nose was a large, bubbly smear, and everything around him shimmered with pieces of light, pieces that were as real and sharp as wood splinters.

“Your grandmother has been calling me every two minutes.” Brooks said as he slowly approached Lisa, his hands held out reassuringly. “She even threatened to report me to Chief Bates and have me fired.” He chuckled, but the laughter didn’t come from his gut; it sounded forced and unnatural.

Lisa didn’t say a word as she stood there, shivering. Her hands slowly flexed until her fists were iron-tight balls. She could feel her fingernails pressing into the palms of her hands as the muscles in her shoulders knotted tighter and tighter.

“Come on in here,” Brooks said as he as he swung open one of the office doors. “I’ll get you a blanket. How about a cup of tea? I don’t think we have any hot chocolate. Knowing Winfield, he probably drank it all.”

A low sound came from deep within Lisa’s chest, but Brooks wasn’t sure if she meant yes or no. He took a rough gray woolen blanket from the supply closet and shook it open. On one corner was stitched the words “Property of Dyer Police.” He went over to Lisa and handed it to her.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Brooks asked. “I mean, did you have an argument or something with your gram? Is that why you ran away?” He couldn’t get over how terrible she looked. It was as though she had been lost in the woods for a week without sleep.

Lisa held the blanket loosely in one hand. She trembled so hard Brooks was sure she would drop the blanket before she could get it around her shoulders. When he reached over to help her, he was surprised by the steel-tight grip that suddenly clamped his wrist. He looked at Lisa, shocked by the sudden wild fury that was blazing in her eyes.

“I’m… hun… gry,” she said, her voice a tortured rasp. Her eyes held his with a smoldering rage that instantly flashed the policeman a warning:
She’s crazy! She’s nuts!

“Let me get you warmed up,” he said as he tried, gently, to break her hold on his arm. “I can see if anyone left anything in the refrigerator.” She was twisting her hand with his every effort, and her fingers just wouldn’t let go of his wrist. It was as if she had more strength than he had. But, he thought, he didn’t want to do anything that might hurt her; he couldn’t very well go beating up on a kid.

“I’m…
hungry
!” she said again, and when Brooks looked down, he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. She was leaning forward, her mouth open wide.

Lisa brought her teeth down hard on his arm. For a split second surprise cancelled the pain; then it slammed up his arm to his shoulder like an electric shock, numbing and hard. Brooks felt momentarily detached from everything, as though he was watching this happen to someone else, but then his brain registered it all: the pain, the warm gush of blood, the grinding sound of teeth on bone.
His
bone!

With a twisted shout, he jerked his arm back with all of his strength, but that only made the hole in his arm worse. Blood cascaded down his arm, and all he could hear was the gurgling sound of
drinking
!

She’s drinking my fucking blood!
his mind screamed as he struggled to free himself.

But Lisa’s grip was tight, and she clung to him like a hawk to a rabbit. His panic and shock only aided her as her teeth ground back and forth, shearing through skin and muscle. Then there was a rough grinding sound that told Brooks she had gone clean through to the bone. He couldn’t even feel his fingers, just the gushing warm rush of blood, pouring from his arm.

“Jesus Christ!” he wailed, backing up and trying to shake her off. “
Jesus Fucking Christ!
”

He could hear a heavy plopping sound, and he knew the sound that was his blood dripping to the floor as Lisa’s mouth filled and overflowed. He could hear her swallow, and he tried not to think that his own flesh was going down her throat! She was
eating
him!

With a sudden burst of frenzy, he shouted aloud as he slammed his arm first backwards and then forward. Lisa’s feet skittered beneath her, and then, mercifully, the pressure on his arm eased up. With one more vicious shove, he sent her reeling backwards. Her feet got tangled together, and she fell. Her head made a hollow, coconut sound when she hit the wall and then slid to the floor, ending up sitting with her legs awkwardly splayed. Her eyes were still open, but they were crossed and unfocused.

Brooks doubled up in pain and almost vomited when he looked down at his arm. There was a ragged hole about the size of a baseball. Thick, red blood pumped up out of the wound and flowed in thick streamers down his arm to the floor. He had seen enough accidents in his years on the Dyer Police to know that the pearly white he saw was exposed bone, but he had never thought he’d ever see his own exposed bone!

With stumbling, lurching steps, he went over to where Lisa sat against the wall. Thick gobs of his flesh hung from her mouth, and her pajama front was saturated with blood. It clung heavily to her heaving chest.

Brooks had just enough presence of mind to take his handcuffs from his belt and clap Lisa’s wrists together before staggering back to the front desk and dialing the rescue unit. By the time the Medcu crew got there, Brooks was unconscious on the floor behind the desk. They at first overlooked him; and once they had found him, it took them some time to figure out who was the more seriously injured. Finally, though, they loaded both Brooks and Lisa onto the ambulance and, siren wailing and red lights flashing, drove to the hospital in Houlton.

“Trapped”

I

“L
et’s take it a little easy, okay?” Donna said as Dale slowed the car for the turn into the driveway of her old home.

Dale nodded quickly and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

The moon was riding high above a band of clouds. It cast a cold, eerie blue light over the landscape, making it look snow-covered. The house appeared about as forlorn as a house could look, sitting up on the gentle rise of land bordered by the woods. Judging from the outside, everything looked peaceful and quiet.

But you could say the whole damned town looked peaceful and safe
, Dale thought; what he had found out so far tonight easily put the lie to
that
idea!

He realized he had been holding his breath as he looked up at the house; he let the air out slowly between his teeth as the car jolted up to the top of the dirt driveway.

“I don’t see Winfield’s cruiser,” Dale said. He had a sudden thought that sent a ripple of panic through him:
What if that was Winfield who stopped Rodgers back there?

It didn’t strike him until just now that it could have been Winfield, driving back to town after checking the farmhouse; seeing two cars speeding down the road, even though he was off-duty, he might have given chase. Dale had assumed it had been someone else, some other poor soul who probably right now was on his way to Rodgers’ Funeral Home. If it had been Winfield, then the thin possibility an ally in all of this had just disappeared.

Dale didn’t tell Donna what he was thinking as he pulled to a stop. He left the engine running and the headlights fixed squarely on the front door.

“Looks okay to me,” he said. “Think we ought to take a look around?”

Donna sat with her shoulder hunched forward. She was silent as she stared at the house. The black shadows cast under the eaves looked thick and solid.

“Why don’t you stay here? I’ll take a peek inside,” Dale said. He opened the door and stepped out onto the driveway. The car was still running, and the lights illuminated the walkway.
What’s there to worry about
, he thought, but he couldn’t deny the chill that gripped him as he started up toward the louse.

He quickly mounted the porch steps and, leaning forward, cupped his hands to the front door window and looked inside. Only a small square of light from the car reached the living room, and Dale couldn’t tell a damned thing from that. It wasn’t until he turned to head back to the car, convinced that Winfield hadn’t been there yet, that he saw a clump of mud on the top step.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered as he knelt to inspect the mud. He probed it with the tip of his finger. It was fresh, still wet; whoever had made it, had made it recently. Maybe it had been Winfield. Maybe not.

Looking up, straight into his glaring headlights, he smiled and waved quickly to Donna. Someone had been here, and not too long ago. But were they still here? Maybe it had been
Rodgers
! He would have had the time. He might have checked the house first while they were at the police station. Hell, if Winfield and Rodgers were in on this together, Winfield might have told him to come here, and this was nothing but an elaborate trap to lure them here.

When a floorboard creaked behind him, Dale spun around, expecting someone to lurch out of the darkness under the porch roof and close off his throat with icy, dead hands. He waited, breath held until it burned in his lungs, but nothing came.

He went quickly down the steps, but then in the distance, he saw a car approaching.

“Jesus!” he shouted, waving his arms wildly over his head. “Donna! Get out of the car!”

The headlights were low and widely spaced like a limousine’s. Dale crouched on the front lawn and waited to see Donna’s door open. There was no mistake: someone had turned off the road and was starting up the driveway fast! There was a slight chance it was Winfield, finally finding time to check on the house, Dale hoped.

“Come on!” he shouted, waving his arm to spur Donna on. The headlights bounced up and down over the rutted driveway. Dale could hear the steady whine as the car tried to gain even more speed.

“
Come on!
” he yelled. He took several steps forward, but then was relieved to see Donna’s door swing open. She was no more than a dark blur against the headlights as she ran toward the house. Dale could hear the frightened wail in her voice as she called to him.

“What’ll we
do
?”

“Run!” he yelled. “Run like a bastard!”

The car raced up the driveway, but the bumps held it back, so it didn’t get the speed it needed. As Donna fell forward, collapsing into Dale’s arms, they both saw the black limo slam into the side of Dale’s car. The sound of breaking glass and bending metal filled the night as the heavy limo strafed along the side of the car, folding in the driver’s door. The car sagged to the side, threatening to roll over.

“Quick!” Dale snapped. “Up on the porch!”

He waited while Donna quickly scaled the steps, then, without taking his eyes off the limo’s headlights, he followed her. They stood side by side at the railing and watched as the limo backed up. Dale knew it had to be just his imagination, but he was positive the limo’s headlights glowed with an eerie red.

“Who’s my insurance?” Dale said, forcing a laugh as he turned to Donna. “Why, John Hancock, of course!”

The limo’s engine whined as it raced faster and faster. Then, with a sudden roar, it sped forward, spewing dirt and gravel out from under its rear wheels. Dale’s car took the hit squarely on the driver’s door this time. The car shifted to the side as the wheels bent on the axles. One of the limo’s headlights went out, but the driver slammed the car into reverse and pulled back for another hit.

But he didn’t aim for the car again. As the limo backed up, the front wheels turned and aimed directly at the front porch.

“Jesus Christ,” Donna whispered. “He isn’t going to…”

“I think he is,” Dale said, pushing her back toward the corner of the house.

The limo’s single headlight swung around, nailing both of them as they cringed on the porch. Dale was surprised to notice how cleanly and sharply the light illuminated everything.

Maybe your senses sharpen just before you die
, he thought as his arm blindly sought out Donna and pulled her to him.

“The man’s lost his goddamned mind!” Donna said softly. “He can’t get away with this!”

“Be ready to jump to your left as soon as he hits the porch, all right?”

Donna nodded.

The night suddenly filled with the revving sound of the limo’s engine; it cancelled out every other sound except the steady arterial thump Dale heard hammering in his ears. He tried not to picture his body, broken and lifeless, twisted across the hood of that limo.

Then the limo started forward, its tires churning up clots of grass as it charged toward the house. Dale imagined the car was a raging bull, ready to gore them both, but when it actually hit the porch, the impact wasn’t quite as bad as he had expected. The car bounced up over the steps. The front bumper tore into the porch railing, leaving behind a gaping hole. Handrails splintered and scattered everywhere, clattering like bowling pins. The top rail was knocked loose and slammed into the side of the house.

At the instant of impact, Dale and Donna both jumped to the side, clear of any danger. The limo’s engine raced wildly as the rear wheels sought purchase to press on further. A loud, insect-like whine filled the night. Held in check by the stairs, the rear wheels spun uselessly, spewing out the sickening smell of burning rubber. At last the limousine sagged backward and, swerving from side to side, pulled back down the driveway.

“Fuck you, you bastard!” Dale shouted. He picked up one of the broken porch pieces and brandished it like a club. “Come on, you prick!” he yelled, so loud he thought his throat would tear. “Come on! I fucking dare you to come up here, one on one!”

In response, the limo sat there, its engine suddenly dropping to idle with a steady rumble. The single headlight glowed like an angry eye.

It reminded Dale of Rodgers’ left eye and the thought sapped him a bit of both strength and anger.

“We can’t stay here all night, fighting him,” Donna said.

“You feel like walking down the road there?” Dale said. He felt curiously detached from what was happening, as though he had suddenly realized he was dreaming. But the choking smell of burning rubber was too real, as was the cold knot of fear tightening in his stomach.

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“It’s his move. Let’s wait and see. He’ll run out of gas if he sits there too long,” Dale said.

His grip on the loose handrail relaxed, but he didn’t drop it yet. If Rodgers made another charge at the house, he wanted to charge the car and smash the windshield if he could. It sickened him, but Dale savored how sweet it would be to take that piece of railing and pound Rodgers’ face to a pulp.

He’s the man who killed Larry!
Dale told himself.

The night hushed as the limo waited, idling. The darkness telescoped down into a narrow tube. But then, suddenly, the engine roared and the car bolted forward, its tires squealing. Dale pushed Donna behind him, cocked the handrail back, and positioned himself as the headlight came rushing forward.

The limousine didn’t aim for them where they stood on the side corner of the porch. Instead it roared up the walkway and catapulted up the front steps. It knocked down both porch columns, and the porch roof sagged downward as the limo slammed like a battering ram into the front door. The door buckled inward with a loud snap.

Glass and wood exploded into the house as Dale darted forward, the handrail high over his head. In the light reflecting from the house, he could discern Rodgers hunched at the wheel. His face was perfectly composed, certainly not the insane maniac Dale had expected to see. In a blinding instant, Dale brought the railing down as hard as he could onto the window, shouting his anger over the screaming engine.

“You rotten
bastard
!” he wailed as the wood glanced off the window. A numbing tingle shot up his arm. It was enough to make him lose his grip, and the piece of handrail flew off into the darkness. It landed somewhere in the darkness as Dale ran back to the corner of the house where Donna watched in horror.

The limo’s rear tires sent up thick clouds of vile-smelling smoke as it tried to climb further up onto the porch. The car labored and lurched like a heavy animal, trying to force its way into the house. Below the ear-splitting whine of the engine, Dale heard the splintering of wood as the porch started to crumble.

Dale watched helplessly as the dark edge of the porch roof fell lower, closing down on the limo like a huge mouth.

Maybe it will swallow him
, he thought hopefully.

But the limo suddenly jolted backward and, miraculously, escaped just as the roof folded downward. Dale’s rage bubbled like lava as he watched the limo skid across the lawn. The underside of the chassis glanced off the walkway, sending out a spray of bright sparks. Back on the driveway, the limo waited, its engine purring.

“And who’s
your
insurance company?” Dale said, glancing quickly at Donna. The whole situation struck him as ludicrous, and he wanted to burst out laughing.

Donna was silent as she stared at the single headlight of the limo as it idled there, watching and waiting. The night seemed to hum and crackle with anticipation.

“The man’s obviously lost his mind,” Donna said softly. She was mulling over in her own mind their best chance to get out of this. If they went into the house, they’d be trapped there. Rodgers could set fire to the house, wait until they made a run for it, and then easily run them down. On the other hand, if they made a break for it, which way could they run? Would they be safer in the woods, or would Rodgers send some of his dead creatures after them?

Dale was shielding his eyes and watching the single headlight, nothing more than a watery smudge in his vision. The sound of the limo’s engine cut through to him. It reminded him of an angry beast, growling as it waited for its prey to bolt.

“If he had a gun, don’t you think he’d have used it by now?” Donna asked.

Dale shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose so.”

“We could try to make it into the woods around back,” she said softly. “His car wouldn’t get too far into that.”

“And then where do we go? Where do we run?” Dale shouted, turning and glaring at her as if this was her fault. “How do we know he doesn’t have some of those
things
in the car with him? He could send them after us. I, for one, don’t want to get caught in the dark by one of them!”

“Do you want to get caught right here by one of these guys?” Donna snapped. So far, she felt she and Dale had handled the events of the night fairly well, at least considering what they were dealing with. But if the threat continued for much longer… well, she felt confident in how
she’d
handle things, but there was no telling how he’d react. Even just a second ago, his gale of laughter had unnerved her. If he was going to lose control, she might be better off not sticking with him.