Eve of Redemption (38 page)

“Where do you think they got off to?” the biker asked.

The Serpent shrugged. “Probably nothing to worry about.”

“Tiny’s gonna wring their necks when we find them.”

The Serpent said nothing as he and his partner stepped out of the third empty house they had searched. Layers of dust covered the surfaces in each house—clear signs that this town had not been lived in for a long time.

The wind howled through the deserted street, carrying a storm of sand and debris with it. The Serpent pulled one side of his jacket up to protect his face as he scanned the rest of the nearby houses. Movement across the street caught his eye. He squinted through the dust storm at the point that had caught his attention. There it was again. Not motion exactly, more like a shimmering in the air in front of one of the houses. The Serpent smacked his partner in the chest and nodded at the house.

“See something?” the guy asked.

The Serpent realized he should know the guy’s name. But, to be honest, he really didn’t care.

“Yeah.”

The Serpent walked down the four short stairs from the house’s front porch and leaned against the wind as he crossed the street. He sensed his partner just behind him and wished he was alone. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want to share it with the Jesus freak. Then again, maybe it would be more fun this way. He’d find out soon enough.

As they approached the house, the Serpent saw that it looked nearly identical to the ones they had already searched. Imagination had not been a strong point for the designer of this town. What a boring stink hole. For just a moment, he saw the shimmer again—and for that moment the house appeared just a bit clearer, cleaner. He blinked his eyes against the flying sand and everything returned to its dirty, abandoned state.

The Serpent and the biker whose name he didn’t know climbed the steps to the front porch of the curious building. The old wooden stairs flexed beneath their weight, but if they creaked, the wind covered the sound. The Serpent grabbed the knob of the front door, turned it, and pushed in. He expected it to be locked like the others and was caught off-guard when it swung open. He stumbled through the door, nearly falling into the house. Inside, a bright and cheerful scene greeted him. Lamps lit the room, and a quick glance around revealed not a speck of dust or dirt. The wind outside sounded miles away.

“What the hell?” the no-named biker muttered from behind him.

“Exactly,” was all the Serpent could say.

“WHERE ARE YOU? Come out here where we can see you!” Burke yelled to the mayor’s disconnected voice. He was losing his patience with this eerie town.

“Why, Mr. Burke,” the distant voice replied, “you sound like you aren’t having a good time. We can’t have that, now can we? That wouldn’t be polite.”

Burke saw Martinez motion to the kitchen, and he nodded in response. The mayor’s voice sounded like it came from a great distance. But, if he was inside somewhere, only the kitchen and storage areas remained as options. The two men crept to the end of the counter and pushed open the door that led to the kitchen. The squeaking hinges sounded raucous in the silent diner. The kitchen itself was as dusty and unused as the seating area. Burke took a quick look at the floor behind them, where their footprints in the dust provided clear evidence of their passing. The floor in front of him was undisturbed.

The two men stopped and listened for any evidence that they might not be alone. The muffled wind that raged outside seemed as distant as the voice that taunted them. Convinced that no one hid in ambush, Burke moved farther into the room. A shiny metal door at one end led to what he supposed was a large freezer. The right wall held two doors, one of which proved to be a walk-in pantry. Martinez motioned Burke toward the freezer, and then pointed to himself and the other door. Burke nodded and turned his attention to the shiny door at the back.

The freezer stood just taller than he did, and he guessed it to be about the width of a normal door. As he gripped the handle, he realized his hands were sweaty and he was holding his breath.
Get a grip,
he chided himself. Everything that had happened since the night in front of the pawnshop had been weird. And terrifying. This was no different. He wondered what had happened to normalcy.

Taking a deep breath, he gave the handle a tug. The door was not as heavy as he had expected it to be, and it swung open so fast he almost hit himself in the face. A dank, musty smell greeted him, tinged with a sweeter, nauseating scent—decayed meat. Burke steeled himself for what might be inside as he peered in. The inside of the freezer was dark, and the muted light that shone through the windows of the seating area did little good this far back. Burke shoved the door all the way open, allowing as much light as possible to reveal the secrets the long-abandoned freezer had to offer. It had been fairly well-stocked, but the power had gone out long ago—months at least—and the food inside had gone bad. The scent that greeted him upon opening the crypt-like space had been the remnants of long-rotted hamburger. He stepped back out, closing the door behind him.

“We’re clear in here.” He waited but heard no answer. “Dave? You in there?”

Burke snuck across the floor. The door Martinez had passed through opened to blackness the light from outside could not penetrate. On the floor, Martinez’s footprints disappeared into the gloom.

“Dave?”

As Burke’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a sliver of light across the small room, illuminating the crack beneath another door. Had Martinez passed through the room and gone outside? Burke strode to the other door. In the darkness, he had to grope for the knob. He turned it and pulled, but the door remained shut. He felt for a lock and found a deadbolt on the right edge. The bolt twisted easily enough, and he pulled the door open. Late afternoon sunlight shone in through the opening. Outside, the wind had died down and the dust settled, leaving an eerie quiet in the empty town.

Martinez was nowhere to be seen.

Burke turned and looked back inside. He stood in a small storage room. Brooms and mops leaned against the wall beside him. To the right sat an old desk with a few envelopes strewn across the top. An old-fashioned lamp with a green glass shade and a pull-chain switch was the only other item on the desk in the otherwise empty room. Burke’s eyes moved to the floor. Two sets of footprints had entered the room from the kitchen door. Burke saw his own cross the room to where he now stood. The other set paralleled his own, but ended in the center of the room—as though Martinez had made it that far, and then vanished. He scanned the floor and ceiling around the area where the prints ended, but he detected no place the man could have gone.

Burke turned and slipped out the door into the fading light of late afternoon. The hush fell over him like a heavy blanket. There should have been fifteen bikers roaming the town, but the place was as silent as a cemetery at midnight. Burke crossed the lot behind the diner, walked down a short alley, and entered the street behind the tiny business district. Looking up and down the street, he saw dust-blown houses and scrub—but no sign of Martinez or the Rebels.

As far as Burke could tell, he was the only living person in town.

T
he sun was a flaming red orb on the western horizon as Burke dragged his exhausted form back to the entrance of the town. He had not searched every house, but he had checked enough buildings to know beyond doubt that he was alone. Everyone else had disappeared. In too many places he had seen footprints suddenly end for no reason, just as Martinez’s had in the diner. Even the gang that had chased them into town was gone. It was as though he was the last man on Earth, alone in a strange land as alien to him as a distant planet.

The motorcycles and car had vanished, too. How or when that had happened he had no idea. Time and reality meant little here. He wondered if Red would have any answers, but he couldn’t find her either.

He was alone.

A cold, dry breeze rustled some scrub along the edge of the road. Burke pulled his jacket tighter around his thin frame as hopelessness seeped through his mind like a rancid poison. He was lost, unsure what to do. It was like the feeling he’d had years ago when it had become clear he was not going to find Laura and Sara. That horrible moment when he had been forced to admit they were not coming back. That he was alone. He never once believed they had run off on him—the physical change in the church building had been enough proof for him. Convincing anyone other than a few relatives of the other missing kids had been impossible. In time, even they had given up and accepted the official story that the church had been a wacko cult that took off.

The world moved on and forgot the whole thing.

The sun fell below the horizon, casting a final glow in the western sky. Burke turned and stared into the darkened town, desperate for any sign of life within. The place remained silent, holding greedily to its secrets. The strong wings of a predator flapped overhead as another night in the game of hunter and hunted began.

God, why is this happening? Why me?

Burke’s heart cried out to the God he was certain he had met in the lake. But if that God really did exist, he was silent now. Cold tears slid down his face.

You are never alone.

Yes, I am. I’m alone now.

Trust me.

Trust you? No way.

You are stronger than this. Trust me.

I’m not strong. I don’t want to be strong.

I will provide the way.

Burke’s mind went back and forth with the conversation, not knowing if he was talking to himself or one of the other characters that had taken up residence in his head of late. He wondered if he was losing his mind, and then laughed. He had probably lost it long ago.

Another chilly gust of wind hit him out of the east. Burke cocked his head and listened. The wind carried something with it. The sound of a bell. Not the tinkling sound a small bell might make, nor the deep ring of a church bell. More like an empty tin can being tapped on. He turned his face into the breeze and stared into the black desert. A dim light moved in the darkness. As he watched, it drew closer, and the bell grew louder. A shadow formed around the light. As the glowing object approached the town, Burke made out the outline of a wagon and a small horse.

Feeling terribly exposed, he slipped through the darkness to the side of the gas station. He watched from his hiding place as the newcomer’s strange wagon went around the DEAD END barrier at the other end of town and climbed from the desert sand onto the pavement. Once on the road, it continued its leisurely pace in his direction. A lantern mounted above the driver’s head swayed in rhythm with the wagon. The clanging bell hung from the neck of the horse.

The wagon drew closer, and Burke crouched down, hiding himself in the shadows of the station. From his vantage point, he could only see the road about twenty feet in front of him. His body tensed and the air grew colder as the stranger approached, the lantern beginning to illuminate the road within his view. He saw his breath in the air in front of him and pulled his head back even farther to keep the puffs from revealing his presence. The soft clomps of the horse’s hooves on the pavement sounded like they were almost on top of him as the beast’s shadow came into view.

Then the wagon stopped. Burke saw the horse’s shadow grow and shrink, distorted by the swinging lantern. The breeze carried the scent of cigarette smoke.