The Dark Ones (17 page)

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Authors: Anthony Izzo

BOOK: The Dark Ones
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CHAPTER 13
After making love on the couch, Dave and Jenny crept to her bedroom. She had slept, her head on his chest. The feel of her warm skin against his side, the delicacy of her hair spread on his chest, had been some comfort. He still hadn’t slept well. Several times he heard the chatters and chitters of animals outside and he nearly held his breath, ready to spring out of bed, expecting an attack. When he wasn’t worried about being attacked, he thought of Sara.
What if the Dark Ones had found her first? Or what if some predator with an eye for teenage girls offered her a ride? Maybe she was bound somewhere in a basement, held by some creep who would torture her for his own pleasure. When the morning came, Dave had never been so glad to see the rays of the sun.
He separated himself from Jenny. As he began to roll out of bed, she took his hand and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she rolled over lazily and yawned.
Dave slipped into his jeans and T-shirt and went out to the kitchen. He heard the gurgle of the coffeemaker and smelled a nice French roast brewing. Frank was seated at the table, fully dressed and reading the newspaper. His Orioles cap rested on the table, next to a plate littered with toast crumbs.
“Sleep well?” Frank asked.
“Jumped at every little sound.”
“We’re well defended here.”
“Still.”
“Notice you didn’t make it to the spare bedroom last night.”
“You’re grinning behind that paper, aren’t you?”
“She’s a lovely woman,” Frank said. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Who’s ashamed?”
Frank chuckled from behind the paper. David couldn’t help but grin. “I’m getting some coffee before you drink it all, Reverend.”
 
 
After his toast and coffee, and while Chen and David finished their breakfasts, Frank called home. Sandra picked up on the third ring.
“How are you?” Frank asked.
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m in a little town called Routersville, Pennsylvania.”
“What in God’s name are you doing there?”
“I can’t explain.”
“Try me,” she said.
“Later.”
“The parishioners didn’t take your absence very well. Norma McCullough got up and stomped out of church.”
Oh, boy
. “Old Norma will get over it.”
“You hope.”
“I know.”
“Really, Frank, why can’t you tell me? Please?”
Her voice had the quality of a child pleading for a parent to reveal some awesome secret.
“Can you leave?” Frank asked.
“Leave where?”
“Lexington. Is your brother staying up at his cabin at all?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Sandra, be quiet and listen.”
From the silence on the other line, he knew he was overstepping his bounds, but a lot depended on this. “Call your brother. You, him, Gertie, the kids, get up to that cabin. The mountains should be safe for now.”
“Safe from what?”
“Trouble. It’s coming, dear. That’s all I can tell you. You might be able to avoid it up there, but not in the towns.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Can you do that for me?”
“You’re not making sense.”
“I understand I sound like a mental patient, but please trust me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
A long sigh came from the other end.
“What’s going to happen?”
“If we don’t take care of things in Buffalo, the whole country, maybe the world, is in danger.”
“Frank Heatly, savior of mankind.”
“Would you just go up there with Gertie. For me?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get away for a week. And it
is
awfully nice up there.”
“I just want you to be safe. I love you,” Frank said.
“I love you, too. I don’t even pretend to understand you sometimes, but I love you.”
They said good-bye and he hoped she would go to the cabin. He also hoped it wasn’t the last time he would ever speak to her.
They agreed to meet at Ruby’s Diner. Jenny had called McGill and Peters, who spread the word among the other Guardians. Dave walked into Ruby’s, where a row of men in quilted flannels and camouflage jackets sat on red vinyl stools at a linoleum counter. The booths that lined the large picture window were full. More people crowded into a central dining area. A country song—Dave thought it was something by Kenny Chesney—rang out over speakers mounted in the corners. He smelled fresh-brewed coffee and the pleasantly greasy odor of bacon frying.
A petite woman in dark blue jeans and a flannel shirt approached them. She had hair that matched the red on a Campbell’s soup can and large blue eyes. She looked as if she might have graduated high school in the past year. She walked up to Jenny, and they embraced.
She turned to Dave and said, “Well, good to see you all.” Then she reached up and wrapped her arms around Dave and gave him a squeeze. She did the same to Frank. Friendly, this one.
“I’m Maggie Swain, but call me Ruby. Welcome to Ruby’s. You guys want coffee? Got some good pancakes and waffles, too.”
Dave said, “No thanks.”
“You own this place?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m impressed,” Frank said.
“You want to know how old I am, don’t you? Twenty-three. I look about seventeen, right? This was my dad’s place. Named it after me. Passed on two years ago. The MS finally got him.”
“It’s a fine establishment,” Frank said. “Sorry about your dad.”
“It’s all right,” Ruby said.
“Let’s get down to business,” Jenny said.
Over the next hour, Jenny shared what her scouts had found out: The Dark Ones were moving closer. Frank then addressed the crowd about the group they had seen at the mine. Finally, Jenny spoke again and informed everyone of the provisions she had made at the armory. There was enough food, water, and ammunition for a two-week siege.
Jenny divided the diner into four groups. She strode back and forth like a Marine Corps DI. Dave was surprised she had never been in the military. Each group would cover a separate quadrant of town, making phone calls and going door to door. Red McCormick, owner of the Hobson Shoe Factory, was in attendance. He would call a meeting, tonight making them able to inform nearly three hundred people. They decided to meet at five. Most people would be home from work, and it was still a little before nightfall. Those who believed and wanted protection would remain at the armory. It was the general consensus that the attack was coming soon, and it would be best for people not to return to their homes.
“Let’s go, then. No time to waste,” Jenny said.
The crowd began to file out, a low murmur filling the diner.
 
 
“Didn’t sleep well?”
Sara sucked in breath, startled. She’d been watching a morning news program called
Daybreak
. The cops had ID’d a skinned corpse found at the old Bethlehem Steel Mill. It was a night watchman named Harry Hargrove. They had no leads, but Sara knew who had done it.
“How can you tell?”
“Luggage under your eyes.”
“Yeah, just thinking.”
“Pretty gruesome find there,” Laura said, nodding toward the television.
“People are sick.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“Why’s that?”
“I see it every day. Two weeks ago this guy brings his six-month-old in. Kid’s got bruises from head to toe, black as a piece of licorice. Father says he couldn’t take the crying anymore.”
“What did you say?”
“I’m like, asshole, it’s a baby, what do you expect?”
“You called him an asshole?”
“It fit, believe me,” Laura said.
“What happened to him?”
“We called Social Services, they took the kid, cops came in, hauled Dad away. Sad thing is, he’ll be out in a few years.”
Sara immediately felt a pang of guilt for trying to hurt David by running away. Sure, he had deceived her, but he had also been a kind and gentle father who never laid a hand on her. She could have done a lot worse.
“What’s your dad like, my grandfather?”
“Well, you’ll meet him soon. He was a good father. Never panicked or threatened to kick me out when I got pregnant. Supported me all the way. The only thing, he would never let me take you out alone. If I was going to the mall or anywhere public, he insisted on going along. The one time I managed to escape, I lost you.”
“The day of my kidnapping. That wasn’t your fault.”
Laura sat next to her on the couch. “You have kids someday, you’ll understand. You’ll hate to see them sick, in pain. You’ll blame yourself for not watching them close enough, for letting them skin a knee or break a wrist.”
Sara put an arm around her. “I’m just glad I found you.”
“I am, too. We’ve got a long way to go, catching up. It won’t happen overnight.”
“But we’re going to try, right?”
“Damn straight,” Laura said. “How about I treat you to breakfast? We’ll go to Ambrosia, Greek place, great all-around food.”
“Sounds good.”
Laura went from the couch to the table and picked up the receiver. She dialed the phone and Sara noticed her chewing her nail while she waited for someone to pick up. After a few moments, she hung up.
“Calling your dad?”
“Strange. Still no answer. We’ll have to drop in on him.”
 
 
After leaving the brewery site, Charles drove through Niagara Square and over to South Elmwood. He passed City Hall and a little brick church called St. Anthony’s. His parents had been married there. He jumped on the Skyway, then headed out Route 5. He spotted the sign for Gate 4 and pulled his car onto the shoulder. His stomach rumbled. Hopefully he could slam down some of those eggs pretty soon.
A web of police tape surrounded the gate. Tape in the shape of an X covered the door to the guard shack. Skinned alive, the poor bastard. People who crossed Engel’s path usually got something unimaginable done to them. This guy had done nothing more than report for work.
Which meant Engel was likely hiding on the property of the mill. The rows of rolling mills and furnaces left places to hide, and since the mill was shut down, he could escape detection. How many of them were waiting among the abandoned buildings?
Charles got out of the car. Behind him, the cars hummed past on Route 5, and occasionally a gust of air blew at his back. He approached the fence. The wind rattled and blew a Styrofoam coffee cup along the ground, in front of the guard shack. The mill seemed desolate to him, eerie. Long gone were the heavy grinding sounds of industry, the hiss of steam, the roar of furnaces, the glow of molten steel being poured from huge ladles. He couldn’t imagine a guard staying here at night, alone. Being here in the daytime left him with an uneasiness that manifested in chills up and down his arms.
The complex stretched for a mile in either direction. Engel could be anywhere. Charles considered going in to look for him, but without the power of one of the stones, it would be suicide. He would have to wait and hope that Reverend Frank would come through in Routersville. Or he would have to dig through tons of steel and other rubble at the recycling yard if they would even let him in. And the stone that had kept Engel buried was most likely burned out. For him to escape, its power must have diminished.
He walked the length of the fence, stepping over broken glass and rustling weeds as he went. He thought of Laura. She wouldn’t leave. He would have to try and convince her somehow. Leave a good-paying doctor’s job, a job she basically loved, because her crackpot father said the end was nigh? Doubtful.

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