Crucifax (33 page)

And sometimes he listened for Mace's eyes.

He'd heard them during his second night at the center. He'd been lying in bed staring into the darkness, thinking about what he would do to Larry Caine once he got out, when he heard the first movements in the wall behind his head. He'd sat up and turned to the small poster over his bed that read your life is in your hands—don't sit on them. He'd pressed his hand to the poster and tilted his head to listen.

He'd heard them again—felt them, too, scurrying within the wall—and he'd smiled, suddenly much more at ease in that strange and unwelcoming place knowing they were there, knowing that Mace was watching over him.

He'd heard them each night after that.

Except for tonight.

He lay back on the bed with a sigh and clasped his hands behind his head. Maybe he'd been wrong; he'd heard nothing from Mace since he'd been admitted. Maybe he'd been wrong to put so much faith in Mace and wouldn't hear from him.

Mr. Haskell had been his only visitor so far. Kevin had enjoyed the man's nervousness and had flopped onto his bed laughing after walking out on the conversation. Haskell was worried about Mace; that meant others were worried, too. Kevin liked that. If they were worried, that meant they thought Mace was important in some way, and their concern gave him power.

Kevin's parents called but never talked to him. Luke came in each afternoon and said, "Well, Kev, your parents just called to ask about you. They're very concerned, so I hope you'll cooperate with us and make them proud."

One day, Kevin had said, "I can't make 'em proud when I'm at home; what makes you think I can do it here?"

"Now, Kevin, buddy," Luke had said, slapping him on the back, "that's not the attitude we're after here."

A psychiatrist named Dr. Blanchette had visited him that day. He was a soft-spoken black man with speckles of gray in his hair and thick-lensed glasses. He asked Kevin a few questions about his problem and examined him briefly, then told Kevin that he would be put on medication starting tomorrow.

"Your problem seems to stem from depression, Kevin," Dr. Blanchette had said. "With the help of your group sessions and private counseling, we'll eventually get to the root of that depression, but in the meantime, the medication will lift your mood and, at the same time, calm you down."

"What medication?"

"Elavil."

Elavil, dude
…
Elavil all the way
…

Kevin looked across the room at the long sleeping shape beneath the blankets in the other bed and thought of the way Leif shuffled around with his eyes half-closed, the way his jaw hung open, the long pauses between words as he spoke…

I
won't be like him,
he thought.
I
won't.

The door opened, and light spilled in from the corridor, but only briefly. Someone stepped inside and quickly closed the door.

Kevin sat up on the bed and squinted through the darkness.

"Who's there?"

Footsteps crossed the room.

"Hello, Kevin," Mace said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Mace!" Kevin whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I came for you," Mace laughed. "We've missed you. And we can't perform without you tomorrow night, can we?"

Kevin swung his legs over the bed and stood. He was so excited, it was difficult to keep his voice down.

"Jesus, I didn't think I'd see you again, I didn't think… well, I thought maybe you…"

"You said you trusted me, Kevin."

"Well, I did, but… but I was scared."

"Don't blame you. This is a scary place. But I've been watching you. You knew that, didn't you?"

Kevin nodded. "How did you get in here? They don't allow visitors at night."

"I'm fast and quiet," he whispered mischievously.

"So how're we gettin' outta here?"

"Trust me. Just wait a few minutes."

Mace patted the mattress, and Kevin sat down again.

"How's your roomie?"

"Quiet. A zombie. I think it's the medication they give him. They were gonna start giving it to me tomorrow."

"Mm, I'm just in time. We'll wake him before we go. Maybe he'd like to come with us."

"Come with us? But he's—"

"Trust me." Mace turned fully toward Kevin and said, "So. You've probably been thinking about Larry Caine a lot. You must be eager to see old Larry again, huh? I know I would be if I were you."

Kevin made a bitter snorting sound.

"Yeah, thought so. Well, I've got a plan, my friend. You can see him tonight, if you want. Give Larry and his friends a surprise, sound good?"

"Where? How?"

"Don't worry about that, let me take care of it. All you have to do is promise me something."

"Sure."

"We're all going away soon. All of us—you, me, Mallory, all the others. Some have already left. Others will go before me. I can't leave until everyone has gone. The others look up to you, Kevin. They respect you." He gently placed a hand on Kevin's cheek; his large palm and long fingers covered half of Kevin's face. "Will you go with them? Ahead of me?"

"Go where?"

Mace leaned closer to him, so close that Kevin could feel his breath on his face.

"A place where no one will ever let you down again. Where no one can disapprove of your achievements, a place where everyone is equal and there are no lies. You'll know it when you find it, but you can't find it without this. This is your key."

He held a Crucifax up to Kevin's face.

Someone screamed in the corridor.

"I lost my other one," Kevin said, "when I was—"

"I know. This one is yours. If we have a deal. Will you go?" Mace breathed.

"My parents will just… they'll have me put back in here."

"Your parents will never find you. You have my word."

Maybe it's someplace out of the country,
Kevin thought,
someplace safe and away from here, away from them.

"Yeah. I'll go."

Mace leaned back, lifted his arms, and put the Crucifax around Kevin's neck as another scream tore through the corridor, followed by running footsteps and a male voice shouting, "Holy Jesus, what the fuck is—grab her arms! Get 'em off, get 'em—Christ!—get 'em off her!"

"Get dressed," Mace whispered. "Hurry."

Kevin stood and felt around in the dark for his clothes as Mace went to Leif's bedside. As he dressed Kevin heard Mace whisper something. Leif stirred and mumbled, "Wha-
huh?" More
whispering. "Oh. Yuh… yeah. Yeah." Leif got out of bed and began to dress, too.

"Stay close to me when we leave the room," Mace said. "The power will go off soon, and it'll be dark."

A woman screamed, "It's—God, it's biting me, biting me, Jesus, somebody—"

Glass shattered.

A door slammed.

A peal of bitter, hateful laughter—Kevin recognized the voice of the jittery, chain-smoking boy two rooms down— rose above the noise, and someone shouted, "Look at her run!"

"Ready?" Mace said calmly once the boys were dressed.

They said they were, and Mace went to the door.

There was more running just outside the room, and the shouting voices were becoming more and more frantic.

"Call somebody!"

"Who, who?"

"Anybody, the front—oh, shit,
ow!
—the front office!"

"Where'd they come from?"

"I-I don't know, th-they—ah,
Jesus,
pull it
off."

Reaching for the door, Mace said, "Remember, stay close," and then he pulled it open.

The corridor was flowing with Mace's dirty-gray creatures; they scurried in every direction, crawling over one another, wriggling madly, snapping their teeth and snarling at the white-clothed employees who were dashing through the corridor trying to jump over clusters of the things to avoid being bitten.

Barry, the night janitor, a stocky, stubble-faced man in jeans and a dirty blue work shirt, was swinging a push-broom back and forth over the floor, trying to knock the creatures aside so he could move forward. One of them scurried up the handle, and Barry stepped back, tripped, and fell. He began to scream shrilly, waving his big arms through the air and kicking his legs like a swimmer.

Doors were opening, and curious heads were peering out of dark rooms; some of the teenagers pulled the doors all the way open to watch, seeming more entertained than frightened by what they were seeing.

Kevin could not even guess how many of the creatures were in the corridor. They seemed to be coming from both directions. In the light, Kevin got his first clear look at the wet, flat-nosed snouts and glistening black lips that curled beneath yellowed tusks and the slanted, deep-set eyes that burned gold beneath small pointed ears that lay back flat as sharp black claws clicked over the floor.

"The goddamned phone's dead!" a woman shouted from the desk.

Willie, an attendant with a quarterback build and smears of blood on his white coat, came around a corner kicking at the creatures, spotted Mace, and shouted, "Who the fuck are you?"

Mace smiled at him and the lights went out.

The woman at the desk screamed.

The teenagers began to sound fearful then….

"… the hell is going on…"

"… Jesus, somethin's really wrong…."

"… can't see a fuckin' thing…"

The auxiliary power came on, not as bright as the regular lights, casting long, dancing shadows through the corridor.

"Call the police, Allen!" Willie shouted. "Sound the alarm, maybe the—" His voice was swallowed by a scream as he fell to the floor and began thrashing while the creatures covered him in a rush.

Mace's eyes scanned the faces in the doorways and said, "We're leaving. Anybody wanna come?"

Laughter broke out among the teenagers then, and someone shouted, "Fuckin' A!" as Allen, another attendant, stepped away from the desk a few yards from Mace and snapped, "Hold it right there, buddy. I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you're not gonna—"

Several of Mace's pets pressed in around Allen's feet, and he backed up clumsily, grabbed the edge of the desk, and lifted himself on top of it, grabbing a three-ring notebook and holding it before himself protectively as one of the things sprang through the air, its mouth open, lips pulled back in a snarl. It clamped its jaws shut on Allen's crotch and began to jerk its body from right to left in a frenzy. Allen screamed and hit the creature once with the notebook, twice, a third time, but it would not let go, and he fell backward off the desk, his scream breaking off into a ragged, pained gasp.

Mace walked calmly down the corridor, and the creatures moved aside to let him pass as he said, with a wave, "Let's go"

The others followed him, some in their underwear with clothes bundled in their arms, dressing as they walked, others already dressed, watching the creatures on the floor with a mixture of repulsion and fascination.

As they rounded a corner, Mace removed a small flashlight from his coat pocket and flicked it on as the auxiliary lights blacked out. The flashlight beam passed over the floor and was reflected in golden eyes that were darting in every direction, then upward to the doors that were opening along the corridor to reveal curious teenagers in robes and pajamas and underwear. The beam stopped in an open doorway, cutting into the room and falling on the pale, narrow face of the girl Kevin had come to know as the Daddy-Hater. Her long, stringy dirty-blond hair fell down over her naked, gaunt body, reaching nearly to her waist, covering her tiny breasts. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open and sucking on the side of her hand. Mace stepped toward her, she took a step back.

"I… I…" she whispered.

"Hmm?" Mace said, his tone pleasant. "You what, honey?"

"I… hate… daddies."

"That's okay," he said smilingly, taking another step toward her. "I'm not your daddy. I'm your friend. Why don't you put your clothes on and come with us?"

She watched him for a long moment, sucking silently on her hand, then turned, disappeared into the room for a minute, then returned, still timid but clothed, and joined them.

Kevin walked at Mace's side; the others behind them invited those standing in their doorways to come along.

"Hey, man, we're haulin' ass outta here!"

"C'mon, we're blowin'!"

There seemed no end to the creatures as Mace lead the teenagers through the corridors, around corners, through swinging double doors, from one ward to the next, toward the front of the building. It was so dark, Kevin was tempted to grasp a fold of Mace's long coat, but he didn't want to show his fear; the others behind him were following gladly, laughing and chatting as if they were at a party, and Kevin did not want Mace to think he had less trust in him than a bunch of total strangers.

If they're strangers,
he thought. Most of them acted as if they were already quite familiar with Mace.

As they neared the main entrance they passed more attendants running blindly through the darkness, some of them shouting—

"Call the police, goddammit, call—oh, Jesus, Jesus—call somebody, goddammit!"

"Get the lights on, for Christ's sake—the lights!"

—some of them screaming wordlessly, trying to stagger over the animals that were snapping at their feet and clinging to their legs.

The flashlight beam passed over a gray-haired woman on the floor, her back against the wall, whimpering as her hands pulled weakly at the creature that was clutching her chest, blood running down her cheeks like black tears.

They passed into the main lobby. There was no one at the desk, and one of the two glass doors in front was wide open. Rain was blowing in and soaking the carpet.

As they neared the open door Mace put an arm around Kevin and said, "Say goodbye to this shithole, Kevin. Larry Caine is waiting…."

At exactly ten-thirty, just as Mace had instructed her, Mallory pushed through the entrance of Mickey D.'s NY Pizza, followed by three other girls, Paula, Dena, and Lynn. She spotted Larry and his friends almost immediately. They were on the dance floor with four girls, dancing to something by Journey.