Forever Man (39 page)

“What is that stuff?” he asked.

Izzy shook her head. “Don’t know,” she said, then tossed it aside. “Come on.”

They began pacing the area, looking for tracks that led away and not in. Whatever had happened here had been frantic; they found several trails that ran around trees or changed directions. One ended at another flattened area of snow, only to lead back to where they’d found the flare.

He and Izzy were getting ready to follow another trail when she put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“What?” he said.

“Over there.” She gestured off to his left. “I think I see a light.”

Gene stared into the darkness. “I don’t see anything.”

“Here, give me the flare.”

He handed it over. Then she turned her back to him, blocking its glow. “Now look.”

The darkness became deeper. It took a few moments for his eyes adjust. Then he saw it.

“Yeah, it’s faint—really faint. And white, not red.”

Izzy returned his flare. “That’s our destination.”

“Owens?”

“He’s got a flashlight.”

“But the light’s so still. If he was walking around, it’d be moving.”

She nodded. “I know. It could also be Webber.”

“Still want to head that way?”

“What other choice do we have?”

Gene gave her that lop-sided grin. “All right, then. I’ve got your back.”

“Yes, you do,” she said, returning his smile.

Her expression made him pause. “Something else?”

She reached up and touched his bandage. “You know, it’s not often a guy gets shot for a girl.”

“Izzy—” He wasn’t sure he could get the right words out, or even what the right words were.

Her hand moved to the back of his neck, and she pulled his face down to meet hers. When their lips touched, it was soft and sweet. He hesitated, then slid his arms around her, drew her in tight and kissed her back. He wanted this moment to last forever.

The kiss ended too soon, and Izzy leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime,” he said, reluctantly letting her go.

“Let’s check that light out,” Izzy said and walked away.

Gene set off after her.

Gene crept through the woods, shadowing Izzy’s footsteps, the darkness once again concealing their movements. They had decided to extinguish the flare. The glow would draw the attention of anyone nearby, and while they wanted to find Owens and Katie, Webber and Jack were just as likely to see it. Besides, if that white light
was
Webber, then walking up blazing like the Statue of Liberty could get them killed.

Izzy halted. Gene took two steps and came to a stop next to her. When she brought her head close and spoke, her breath warmed his cheek. He fought the urge to kiss her again.

“There’s a clearing up ahead,” she said. “The light’s coming from there. It’s too bright to be a flashlight. I guess that means we found Webber and Jack.” She paused. “What’re they doing out here?”

“Could be some kind of safe house, a place where they can hide out for a while.”

“That’d make sense—if they’d done a better job at covering their tracks. They didn’t care who followed them.” She stared at the light for a moment. “I don’t think they’re hiding.”

“Then there must’ve been something out here Webber needed to pick up. Something he couldn’t afford to leave behind. And now his plans are all screwed up. Score one for the good guys.”

“Maybe not,” Izzy cautioned. “A cornered animal will fight more fiercely than a rabid one.”

“So how do we handle this?”

“
We
don’t,” she answered. “
I
do.”

“No,” Gene said. “We’re doing this together.”

“It’s not up for a vote.”

“I’m not going to—” He realized his voice was climbing and lowered it to an urgent whisper. “I’m not going to stand by and watch while you risk your life!”

“It’s my job.”

“You’re not facing this alone. So unless you plan on shooting me, you may as well accept it.”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“The same could be said for you.”

“You’re not coming.”

“Yes I—”

She stiffened, and began making small, terrified gasps.

“Izzy, what’s the—?”

Something hard jabbed him in the shoulder.

“You should learn to keep your voice down,” Webber said from the shadows.

Before Gene could react, his head exploded in pain and he felt himself falling to the cold ground.

*   *   *

The old man stood at the edge of the clearing. He and Katie had spotted a faint white light and had followed it here.

Across the glade, the earth rose steeply to form a small hill. Snow covered the ground, reflecting the dim moonlight; brighter light spilled from an opening in the hillside.

Darryl Webber knelt a few feet from the opening. He was working on something near the ground, his shoulders hunched and his arms flexing. Whatever he was doing, he must have finished. He stood and looked to his right.

Bart followed his gaze. At first he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. It looked like Webber had trussed up a dead deer and hung it from a tree branch. Then he peered closer. No, it wasn’t a deer. He could make out arms hanging down, fingertips grazing the snow-covered ground. The shape was tall and broad. It wasn’t a woman.

Webber had strung up a man.

The figure coughed weakly and groaned.

Bart stiffened. It was Gene.

Next to him, Katie drew in a sharp breath.

“No,” he whispered. “Say
nothing
. Stay here until I call for you.”

Then he entered the field, and, with a raised voice, called out to Webber. “Remember how you failed in Denver? I don’t see this ending any better. You may even end up with more than a scar.”

Webber spun around, his face hidden by shadows. “Ah, there you are.” The words were raspy, as if they barely had the strength to scrape past his vocal chords. “Thought you’d gotten lost.”

“You sound tired. Long day?”

“Fuck you.”

“Be nice,” Bart said. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and took a casual half-step forward. “What are you doing out here? It’s risky, especially since you’ve already got the boy.”

“One man’s risk is another man’s reward. But you’re already familiar with that concept. Or are you so old you’ve forgotten?”

“Bright are the paths of my past.” A quick shrug and another half-step. “My memories are writ in blood and pain. I’m not allowed to forget.”

“Oh, stop it,” said Webber. “That highbrow shit gets under my skin.”

Bart nodded. “I remember.”

“And you, old man? You know what the boy can do. I’m surprised
you’d
take the risk of coming this close.”

Nod and step. “Yet here we are, both fighting over him. Here’s a novel idea: why not let him decide his own fate?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“This is about your fate, too,” Bart said, taking another step.

Webber reached a hand into his pocket and removed a small, white knife. He pointed it at Bart. “There was a lesson my sister learned from you. I swear it was the only time you made any sense. Care to guess which one it was?”

“Your sister—”

“‘The more power you’re given, the less freedom you really have’.”

“—would never approve of what you’re doing.”

“So according to your own profound wisdom, this boy has no freedom!”

“That’s not exactly what I said. I told Jesse that the more power someone is given, the more others will expect of him. It has to do with responsibility, not freedom. Power isn’t limiting. It simply makes the consequences of your choices more significant.”

He risked another step forward.

Webber crouched down and put the knife to Gene’s throat. “Keep your distance, old man.”

“More killing? Didn’t you learn anything from me?”

“You never stop, do you?”

“What you’ve done can be undone. All of it. Let this be your first step.”

“And give up everything I have?”

“What—lies and gimmicks? Smoke and mirrors?”

“Power, Bartholomew. Something you never offered.”

“Jesse never needed power.”

“Stop it.”

“She’d weep at what you’ve become.”

“Shut up!”

“She never stopped loving you.”

“
Quit talking about my sister!
”

Webber gripped Gene’s hair and bent his head back. “Let’s see how you deal with choices,” he said. “You can save him, or you can save the cop. But you won’t be able to save both.”

“No!” Bart shouted. “Don’t!”

Smiling, Webber drew the knife across Gene’s throat. The skin split open and blood began to spill down his face.

Then Webber sprinted into the cave.

Izzy pried open her eyes.

Cold light surrounded her. She was lying on her side, facing an uneven dirt wall that rose toward her at a sharp angle. Her arms were wrenched behind her back and bound at the wrists. Looking down, she saw her legs bound at the ankles with duct tape. Her head pounded thickly. A stench assaulted her nostrils, bringing tears to her eyes.

She tried to blink away the confusion. What happened? She’d been talking to Gene, and then—

What?

Determined, she pushed past the pain and forced herself to remember. Yes, she’d been talking to Gene, and then the woods had just
disappeared
. She’d found herself lost in a maze of obsidian tunnels veined in fire. Nightmare creatures, wrecked and wretched, had chased her and she’d fled, hurtling down dark passages. Propelled by her fear, she’d run, turning and turning.

Then pain. Pain—and nothing else until she opened her eyes.

Owens’s words came back to her.
Don’t believe everything you see. Darryl is a magician of sorts. He can create hallucinations.

So, Webber had found them. But then, where was Gene?

And where was she?

Izzy opened her eyes again. The dirt wall hinted that she had been taken from the woods. But how long had she been out? Long enough to be taken out of the forest entirely?

Only one way to find out.

Gingerly, she rolled onto her back. Pain swept down from her throbbing head, and she groaned.

“Ah. Finally awake.”

Izzy turned toward the voice, but whoever had spoken was hidden behind the bright glare of a pair of Coleman camping lanterns sitting on the ground within inches of her face.

“Who—?” Izzy croaked, then licked her lips. “Who’s there?”

From behind the curtain of light stepped Jack Sallinen. “Surprise, you miserable bitch.” His voice had an odd, echoing quality.

She saw movement and barely had time to roll away before Jack’s kick landed across the base of her spine. The blow sent intense pain coursing through her body. Not wanting to give Jack any satisfaction, she locked a scream behind clenched teeth.

There was a rustle of fabric and then Jack’s hand gripped her chin, pulling her head around. He had crouched down with one arm resting across his knees. He was smiling.

“You really thought you could beat me? A nosy, Be Nothing cunt like you?”

Ignoring the pain, Izzy shook her head free. “Where’s Gene?”

“Always concerned with the little guy, aren’t you?” His grin fading, Jack unzipped her coat and spread it open. His eyes caressed her body. There was a hunger in them that sent icy shivers along her spine. “Never concerned with what’s important. Never concerned with
who’s
important.”

“Jack?” When he didn’t look at her, she repeated his name until he met her gaze. “What happened to Gene?”

Panting, Jack leaned in close to her. “Why,
he’s
the Tar Baby now, I expect,” he said. “Bait for Little Black Sambo.”

What? They actually
wanted
Owens here? This was a trap for
him
?

“You’ve lost, Morris,” Jack continued. His hand snaked out and groped her breast. “And you’re going to lose so much more.”

Disgust filled her. She tried to swing her legs around to defend herself, but Jack had wedged himself close, cutting off her angle. Falling to his knees, he used his other hand to pin her shoulder to the dirt. Then he swung a leg over her so that he was straddling her hips. He looked down at her, helpless under his bulk, his eyes gleaming with lust.

“It’s time I knocked you down a couple pegs,” he said, his hand kneading her breast. She could feel his rising excitement and wanted to vomit. “Or maybe I should knock you up.” His lip curled into a sneer. “You know, since you’re childless and all.”

Izzy stiffened. “That’s a lie.”

Jack’s hand left her breast and started fumbling with his belt buckle. “The nose knows,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve smelled her by now.”

The stench—she recognized it now: the low, rancid stench of a rotting corpse. And according to Jack, it was the dead, decaying body of her daughter.

She’d found her baby but had been too late to save her.

As tears stood in her eyes, Izzy gathered her most precious memories of Natalie and forged them into a steel-hard shield for her shattered heart. She would grieve later. For now, her thoughts turned from rescue—

—to revenge.

During her brief silence, Jack had managed to unclasp his belt buckle and was working at the button on his pants. With his hand shaking like a nervous teenager, he had lifted his hips to ease his access. His chin was tucked down against his chest as his focus shifted to the stubborn button.

Glancing past Jack, she saw a shadowy form shift behind the light.

“Hey, asshole,” she said. “Are you really going to fuck me in front of your son?”

“Wha—?” Startled, Jack lifted his head, then sat back and threw a glance over his shoulder. When she felt his weight settle on her legs, she tensed her muscles and waited.

“Nice try,” he said, turning back toward her. “He’d never understand anyway.”

As soon as Jack’s face came into range, Izzy used his weight on her legs as a fulcrum and shot up, driving her forehead into his mouth. The impact sent more pain crashing through her head—but this time she welcomed it, embraced it, used it to drive her further.