F Paul Wilson - Novel 10 (55 page)

 
          
"Just
passing through," she told him.

 
          
The
two who'd been stretched out on the steps were now on their feet, hands on
hips, looking toward her and grinning.

 
          
"What's
your hurry?" said a big-bellied one.

 
          
"No
hurry," she said. "Just got places to go."

 
          
Joe
watched them move out into the street to intercept her. What is she doing? he
wondered. Has she gone crazy?

 
          
"Oh,
I don't think so," said the first one. "I think you're gonna stop and
visit."

 
          
Lacey
was within half a dozen feet of them now. "Been there, done that. Hey,
boys . . . don't you remember me?"

 
          
With
that she reached behind her, ripped her pistol free, and began firing wildly,
pulling the trigger as fast as it would allow. Joe saw the one with the shotgun
take a round in the chest. His arms flew outward as the bullet punched him
back. Lacey's second shot went wild but the third caught the fat one in the
gut. The last
Vichy
was drawing his pistol when Lacey's fourth shot caught him in the
shoulder, spinning him around.

 
          
Four
shots, three hits, but she didn't stop there. She kept firing.

 
          
Joe
leaped out from the alley and dashed toward her as she stood over the three
downed men and pumped round after round into their twitching bodies. He reached
her as the slide on her pistol locked back on empty.

 
          
He
grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him. "Lacey! What—?" Then
he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks.

 
          
"It
was them, Uncle Joe," she sobbed. "I recognized them. They're the
ones who—" She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

 
          
Joe
glanced at their blood-splattered remains. "Lacey ... Jesus. . . are you—?

 
          
"I'm
okay. That was for Enrico ... and me. Let's just get this done and get out of
here, okay?"

 
          
Joe
opened his mouth to speak—he figured he should say something—but his mind was
blank. He settled for a curt nod. They could talk later.

 
          
Carole
arrived then with her book bag full of stakes and hammers. She took one look at
the bodies, then put her arm around Lacey's shoulders.

 
          
"It's
all right, Lacey. You did the Lord's work."

 
          
Lacey
irritably shrugged off her arm. "That wasn't any lord's work—that was
mine."

 
          
Joe
caught the flash of hurt in Carole's eyes and felt bad for her. Lacey's rough
edges weren't getting any smoother. No time now to explain his niece to Carole.

 
          
He
took the book bag from her and turned toward the Post Office. "Let's go-

 
          
He
led the way up the steps. Once inside he looked around. Empty. Sunlight began
to stream through the east windows.

 
          
"If
there's a cellar, that's where they'll be."

 
          
Lacey
pointed to a door to the left of the clerk windows. "I saw the woman and
her entourage go through there."

 
          
The
door was locked. No problem. Joe kicked it open. Another door, unlocked, opened
onto a flight of stairs leading down into a darker space.

 
          
"We'll
do as many as we can in the time we have," he said, reaching into the bag
and handing out the flashlights. "But we do the woman first. From what
I've seen, she seems to be in charge."

 
          
He
didn't need a light of his own. The stairwell appeared well lit to him.

 
          
He
hurried down to where the steps made a sharp right turn at the bottom into a
dank, dusty space—

 
          
—and
there they were. He could see all eight of them in the cool darkness, stretched
out on an assortment of beds and cots. Like a dormitory in hell. If their
daysleep was anything like his the past two nights, it was like death.

 
          
Joe
looked around. Concrete walls, no windows, junk piled in the near-right corner.
He spotted the woman's bed on the far side of the room next to the wall and
immediately moved toward her. Even if they managed to stake only one this
morning, he wanted it to be her—to send a message back to Franco that nobody he
sent here was safe. Eventually he wanted Franco to know that not even he was
safe.

 
          
"Hey,"
Lacey called from behind him. "This guy's awake."

 
          
"This
one too," Carole said.

 
          
Joe
had been so fixed on the woman that he'd paid no attention to her six guards,
arrayed around her like spokes on a wheel. He looked down at the nearest and
nearly jumped when he saw wide dark eyes staring back at him, sharp teeth bared
in a snarl.

 
          
Joe
didn't understand. How could they be awake?

 
          
"Forget
them for now. The woman first."

 
          
He
stopped at her bedside and found her awake as well. She lay on her back,
staring up at him in fear and wonder.

 
          
"This
is really creepy," Lacey said.

 
          
Joe
had to agree. What was going on here? Unless.. . maybe the gunfire outside had
roused them. At least none of them was able to get up.

 
          
No
time to waste. He dropped the book bag on her abdomen and pulled out the heavy
maul and one of the stakes. Carole stepped up beside him and played her beam
over the woman, illuminating the corner of the room like daylight.

 
          
Joe
lifted the stake. This wasn't how he'd expected this to go. He hadn't counted
on his victims staring him in the face as he pounded stakes through their
chests.

 
          
But
this was no time for squeamishness. Steeling himself, he placed the sharpened
tip against her chest, just to the left of her breastbone. He'd never done this
before, but he imagined that was where the heart sat. As he raised the hammer,
the woman hissed and grabbed the stake with both of her hands.

 
          
Joe
jumped back in surprise, releasing his own grip.

 
          
"Dear
God!" Carole gasped. "She can move!"

 
          
Joe
recovered and snatched the stake back from her grasp. He broke her grip easily.

 
          
"But
she's weak," he said.

 
          
A
deafening blast echoed through the basement and Joe felt a stabbing impact,
like a punch, in his back.

 
          
A
shot!

 
          
Another
blast as he half turned—another blow, this time to his shoulder.

 
          
"Get
down!" he shouted to Carole and Lacey. "Way down!"

 
          
He
feared the ricochets in this concrete box could be almost as deadly as a direct
hit. He turned and found the shooter, the pistol wavering in his hand as he
aimed another shot. Joe ducked to his left, darted to the man's side, and
snatched the gun from his hand.

 
          
"Hey!"
Lacey cried, popping her head up. She pointed to a guard near her. "This
one's going for his gun too!"

 
          
"Get
it!" Joe shouted. He turned and lunged for another of the woman's guards
who was lifting his automatic, moving like someone in a slow-motion movie. Joe
tore it from his grasp. "Get their guns! All of them."

 
          
He
saw Lacey struggling with her guard. She had a two-handed grip on the barrel.
Joe was just about to step in and help when she twisted it from his grasp. He
turned and saw Carole pulling a pistol from another guard's belt before he
could reach it. Joe disarmed two more, then stepped over to the seventh male,
the one with the cot against the opposite wall, and found him unarmed.

 
          
"You!"
Joe cried when he spotted his ruined left eye.

 
          
This
was one of Franco's guards, the one who'd stripped him naked before taking him
to his boss. What had Franco called him?

 
          
"Artemis!"
That was it. "What are you doing here?"

 
          
The
good eye widened. "You know me?" the vampire rasped.

 
          
That
surprised Joe for an instant, then he remembered that his face had been changed
by the sun. He wished he knew what he looked like.

 
          
He
jabbed one of the pistols at him. "Too bad you didn't bring Franco with
you. When we finish with the lady, you're next!"

 
          
This
was perfect: the woman and Franco's right-hand man in one morning. He turned
and stalked back toward the guards, snatching up a couple of machetes as he
reached them. "Take their machetes too. Don't leave them with anything that
can be used against us."

 
          
He
tossed the pistols and machetes toward the foot of the steps. Carole and

 
          
Lacey
did the same. He was most relieved to have the guns out of play. The bullets
hadn't affected him, but Carole and Lacey's lives had been on the line.

 
          
"A
little help over here," Lacey said. Her voice sounded strained.

 
          
Joe
looked and saw that the woman had turned over and was trying to crawl out of
her bed. Lacey was struggling to hold her back. Carole leaned in to help.

 
          
As
Joe moved toward the women, one of the guards rolled out of bed and landed on
the floor in front of him. Another to his right did the same. Both started a
slow-motion bellycrawl toward their mistress. Joe stepped on the back of the
one in front of him and rejoined Carole and Lacey.

 
          
"They're
coming for us!" Lacey said, an edge of panic in her voice. She was
clutching the woman's right arm while Carole held the left from the other side
of the bed. The woman writhed slowly in their grasp. "Let's do this and
get the hell out of here!"

 
          
"Yes,
Joseph," Carole said, calm but grave. "You haven't much time."

 
          
"All
right, all right." Wasn't anything going to go according to plan?

 
          
He
grabbed the stake and maul. No hesitation this time. He placed the point of the
stake over the woman's writhing chest, raised the maul—

 
          
Lacey
let out a yelp and released the woman's right arm. "Something just touched—damn!
There's one here on the floor! He's trying to grab my leg!"

 
          
She
half turned and began kicking at the guard who'd crawled to their feet.

 
          
Joe
stared in shock, then looked around. Others were on their way, inching toward
them along the floor. This kind of loyalty and devotion was almost
unimaginable, especially in the undead.

 
          
"Joseph,"
Carole said. She had both the woman's arms now. "Do it. Now."

 
          
Joe
nodded. In a single swift move he placed the stake and hammered it home. The
heavy steel head of the maul drove the point all the way through the woman and
into the mattress beneath. She writhed, kicked, spasmed, then stiffened and lay
still.