Nightwalk 2 Page 15

  But what hit me more than anything else was the sudden understanding of the damage Darla’s encounter with Tommy had wreaked on her.

  I’m sure she had had the word “whore” hurled in her direction before. But not like this. Tommy had made it stick. He had essentially convicted and executed her for it and carved it on her tombstone. And now seeing Darla in her gray poncho, I understood the garment for what it truly was. It wasn’t the usual attempt at modesty the average woman would have taken in her position. In her case it was a garment of shame. Even though it had most likely been an unconscious act on her part, she had fashioned herself a penitent’s robe.

  Tommy had hurt her down to her very core… leaving a woman who depended on men for her security suddenly doubting her own worthiness to be protected. And if she now doubted it, she had to question whether the men did, too. All she had left was her fear of dying to spur her onward, and a ‘hero’ she couldn’t trust to think her worth hanging around for if things got inconvenient.

  And I didn’t know what to do about it.

  She needed somebody a whole hell of a lot more people-savvy than me. This wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl still grieving over the father she secretly blamed for choosing another girl over her… this was a grown woman who had probably come with issues in the first place, and now been badly broken. I was way over my head here.

  The only thing I could do was try to get her out of this hellhole alive, and leave the healing part to her or whoever she found for the purpose.

  “Darla,” I looked her in the eyes, “you’ve got this all twisted up. I don’t care what Tommy said or did, because I’m not Tommy. Yes, I went the other way, and I’m finding myself not very proud of the fact. But that was then and this is now. All that matters now is I’m the guy who is going to get you out of here. And I’m not doing it because I think you’re some wonderful person or because I’m a knight in shining armor. Not even close. To be honest, my reasons are a bit more selfish than that. I’m doing it because I have nightmares. I’ve had them for the past two years, and there were times I thought they would drive me crazy.

  But the funny thing is, sometime after I accidentally saved you from Tommy I recognized the chance to get rid of one of those nightmares. One of the worst. And once I realized it, I discovered I liked the idea. As a matter of fact I liked the idea a whole hell of a lot. So that is exactly what I intend to do. I’m going to erase the nightmare with your name on it. And the way I’m gonna do that is by getting you out of here… history be damned.”

  Then I leaned slightly so we were truly face to face.

  “But if you want to stay close and keep an eye on me, fine. I get it. I really do. Just remember to watch my back while you’re at it. Okay?”

  So there you had it. The patented Mark Garrett Pep Talk for Traumatized Women in Life Threatening Situations. I’m sure it would have had psychologists vomiting in their textbooks the world over.

  All it earned me in response was a desultory shrug.

  I felt pretty certain it hadn’t made me a friend, but it had never been about making friends. I doubted whether friendship between Darla and I was even possible. Now we understood each other a little better, and that would have to be enough.

  Yet even if we were fated to never get along, at least I could walk away from this with one thing... the satisfaction of knowing I got to kill the twisted son-of-a-bitch who had hurt her, and also knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt he deserved it. Tommy would be one particular nightmare that would never bother me again.

  But for now, it was time to get back to business.

  “C’mon then,” I gestured for Darla to follow, “let’s go knock on some doors. And remind me when we get to the pipe at the flood pond and I’ll tell you the final score to the next Super Bowl. Deal?”

  “Fine. I guess.”

  “And remember, now that we’re going back out there, don’t shoot me in the ass with that shotgun.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, shut up!”

  Chapter Seven: Departures

  As it turned out, there would be no knocking on doors.

  As soon as we slipped back into the steaming night I saw the other group making their way up the alley toward us. Justin led with the gun, while Mickey flanked him with my machete and the road flare held aloft in her other hand. The others followed immediately after, although I noticed their group numbered fewer than before. The mother of the missing toddler no longer numbered among them, and now the boy, David, carried the baby.

  I didn’t ask what happened to her, and they didn’t offer to tell the tale. I had already seen enough of that story my last time through here to know the central theme anyway.

  Coventry Woods was not a family friendly neighborhood tonight.

  I also noticed Lupe still carried Lucy’s linen-swaddled form. I had no idea if she still lived or not, but the bloodstain spreading along the bottom of her sheets didn’t bode well.

  Although I knew it was the only light they had, the sight of their flare illuminating the alleyway didn’t exactly fill me with happy fun thoughts either.

  “I know we’ve got the Rex up front now,” I whispered by way of greeting while pulling a couple more military-grade glowsticks from my pack, “but it’s tall enough it might see over the stores and spot the glow of your flare. How about let’s not draw him back here again.”

  That got the flare dropped and stubbed out in a big hurry. Everybody had had enough of Mr. Rex for one evening. Then Mickey and Justin cracked their sticks and a softer glow suffused the immediate area.

  “Much better,” I sighed. “Now back to business. What’s left between us and the flood pond? We are running out of time.”

  Sweat-coated brows furrowed in the dim circle of green light as everybody tried to build their own mental map of the place we all lived.

  “We cross the entrance to Coventry Woods first,” Mickey answered. “At least there will be trees there. Then there’s the Rocketwash. No trees but we can use the car ports and awnings for cover, so we should be okay there, too. After that’s where we run into a real obstacle.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Next is the storage yard. The good news is we can use the long boat storage shed running across the back of the lot like the carports at the Rocketwash. But the bad news is it’s surrounded by a tall chain-link fence with razor wire at the top. That’s gonna be a problem.”

  “No problem. I’ve got heavy-duty wire cutters in my backpack.”

  That brought her up short.

  “You do?” She regarded me with an odd expression. “Really? You carry homemade candles, road flares, glowsticks, boxes of ammo, and heavy-duty wire cutters in your backpack? What exactly were you packing for?”

  Oh, great.

  I hadn’t ever expected to be asked to explain my backpack. And the items she listed weren’t even the oddest things to be found in the collection. I didn’t want to go there, and I certainly couldn’t come up with a believable explanation on the spot, so in a moment of inspiration I opted for the age-old standby perfected by husbands and teens down through the ages.

  “I dunno,” I shrugged.

  This earned me a hard look from Mickey, and I think I saw Darla do a full facepalm out of the corner of my eye, but the former didn’t seem inclined to press it so I guess it didn’t matter.

  “Anyway,” Mickey continued, “after the storage yard, there’s an undeveloped lot that’s never been cleared. Solid trees and underbrush, just like on the other side of the highway. It’s not worth the risk. We’ll have to move up to the front of the storage lot before cutting our way out, because we aren’t going through it and I don’t want to get stuck between it and a chain link fence.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Then we get to the church and its grounds. We can cross the highway to the flood pond from somewhere in there. The flood pond is also surrounded by a chain-link fence, but it’s only about four feet tall so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Sounds ab
out right to me,” I said, then scratched my head in an effort of recollection. “By the way, we haven’t had any big rains lately, right?”

  Remember, it had actually been two years for me. For instance, who remembers the weather a week before their birthday two years later?

  “Nothing serious. It’ll probably be soft down there at the bottom, but that’s about it. Let’s just hope nothing nasty is in the pipe.”

  I started to assure her the pipe would be clear, but caught myself in time.

  “If there is,” I patted the gun at my hip, “then it ain’t gonna be in a position to do much dodging. It’s the things between here and there worrying me.”

  “You’re right,” she grimaced. “Let’s focus on the problems we’ve got here.”

  I had the definite feeling she said that with something in mind.

  “Starting with?”

  “Starting with that damn Rex. It may be out front, but how do we know it won’t see us when we come out from this alley and cross Coventry Boulevard? We have zero room to screw up with a creature like that.”

  I understood exactly what she meant. Once we exited the alley at the end of the strip mall and started crossing Coventry, we would become visible to more and more of the front parking lot. Even with our dimmer illumination we would still be nearby moving points of light. And predators were inherently curious.

  “We could go totally dark?” Justin suggested. “If we don’t have light, it can’t see us.”

  “And waltz straight into the claws of something else nasty,” Mickey snapped. “With our luck our dying screams will attract the Rex and we get dismembered by squabbling uglies. No.”

  It was good to see I wasn’t the only optimist in the group. Still, something had to be done.

  “Maybe we could distract it somehow?” I mused aloud. “Draw it away.”

  “In other words, catch its attention on purpose.” She gave me a doubtful look. “I’m already not liking this one.”

  Yeah, me neither. But it was my dumb idea so I figured I might as well explain.

  “We could agree on a number to count to. Then I could go back down the alleyway and around behind Madre Mona’s. Then when we hit the right number I’ll fire off a few shots and light a flare. You guys give it a few more seconds and then sneak across Coventry and find a place to hide at the Rocketwash. Maybe in the car wash. I’ll drop the flare and come running back down the alley and rejoin you guys.”

  “You mean split up with our best armed and equipped guy a long way off and by himself. I’m really not liking this one now.”

  “It’s got its drawbacks,” I admitted. “But I think I can pull it off.”

  “Or,” Darla grumbled beside me, “if you want to pull something off, you could simply borrow their prybar, walk five feet to your left, and pull a few boards off that fence. Then we all go through to the school grounds on the other side and cross Coventry farther down and out of the stupid thing’s sight.”

  Oh.

  I supposed we could do that, too.

  A hush fell, other than the rising fuss being raised by the baby in the boy’s arms, and everybody looked at Darla… who uncharacteristically didn’t seem to enjoy the sudden attention on her.

  “Good point, lady,” Mickey acknowledged “All this running around has us thinking like action heroes. And we ain’t action heroes. At least somebody here still has their feet on the ground.”

  Darla made a noncommittal noise by way of an answer, but otherwise lapsed back into silence.

  “Well, you heard her,” Mickey nudged her young Viking sidekick, “go pull us some boards.”

  “I thought she said for him to do it,” Justin objected good-naturedly.

  “And I just said for you to do it, lazybutt. I think you’re capable of working and talking to us at the same time. Although, after your dumb idea of running around blind, I might have to rethink that one.”

  “Yes, Mom,” he grinned and pulled up the prybar he had hanging from a belt loop.

  Walking over to the fence, he examined the boards. Having ascertained where they were nailed to the support brace, he inserted the crowbar into a space between two of them. Then he gave a firm pull.

  The nails, probably rusted in place, gave way in squealing protest. I think everybody there winced at the sound. It had been uncomfortably loud, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

  As if triggered by the noise, the baby in David’s arms answered with a rising wail of its own.

  “David!” Mickey hissed.

  “I know, I know!” came the urgent whisper back. “I don’t know what to do!”

  It would have been funny if it wasn’t so deadly serious. A group of grown adults staring wide-eyed at each around a couple of green glowsticks in the darkness, hoping somebody knew how to deal with a crying baby.

  “Rock it,” Justin sotto-voiced at the boy.

  “I am. It’s not working!”

  “Is he wet?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Is he hungry?”

  “I don’t know!”

  The child’s cries grew louder and I realized we were in serious trouble. Those wails were an open invitation to every predator in the area to come check out what was young, helpless, and in distress. The boy tried covering the baby’s mouth with his hand, but while that somewhat muffled the cries, it also raised nightmarish images of accidently smothered babies in my mind. I had read of such things happening in wartime among hiding refugees.

  Then inspiration struck.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I whispered, and hustled back toward the rear door of the pre-school. “Just hang on, I’ll be right back.”

  Thankfully the door still hung slightly ajar. It had been stupid not to wedge it a bit open before leaving it behind, and I made a mental note to rectify that mistake when I came back. It would make a good place to retreat to if we ran into something nasty and needed to come back and take a different path forward.

  I pulled open the door, visualizing where the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator had been in my head. I would need to conduct this search fast.

  I came around the divider with my first search objective already in mind…and almost stumbled to a stop. The room had gained a new occupant!

  I wasn’t alone!

  But even as I snatched up my gun, the figure waved its hand and all the ceiling lights sprang to life. Although the sudden glare temporarily blinded my night adjusted eyes, I now realized who my new companion had to be. At the last instant I held my fire, squinted against the brightness, and saw my hunch was right.

  The man in white sat on the corner of the teacher’s desk, one leg crossed over his knee. As always, he looked delighted to see me. His right hand rested on his cane, while the other extended what I recognized to be a can of baby formula in my direction.

  “Ah, Mr. Garret,” he greeted in his general good cheer, “I believe you’re looking for this.”

  ###

  I struggled to regain my breath.

  His appearances were always a surprise, but he had never popped up out of the darkness like this before.

  “Holy shit!” I gasped. “Oh, holy shit! Please don’t do that. I almost had a heart attack, and very nearly shot you, too.”

  “My apologies, sir.” He stood and gave a slight bow. “This was a spur of the moment visitation. I had been preparing to depart Coventry Woods when I espied a sudden opportunity to catch you alone. It seems I have been careless and acted in haste. But if it’s any reassurance, I promise you your heart is in excellent condition and capable of serving you for decades to come.”

  Well, that was always good to hear. Assuming I didn’t die horribly in the next hour, I wouldn’t have to worry about cardiac problems any time soon.

  “You’re leaving Coventry Woods?” I inquired

  “Yes, Mr. Garrett. All the people I nudged toward escape have now either done so, or failed. My work for the night is done.”

  I digested that information
for a second. Something about the context of the statement struck me as odd, but I had to think about it a moment to realize the implication.

  “Wait a minute,” I frowned at him. “What’s going on here? Am I dealing with the current version of you, or the version from my time?”

  “Version?” the man in white cocked a quizzical look at me. Then his face brightened and he laughed aloud. “Oh, of course! A perfectly logical question from your point of view.”

  “Does it come with a logical answer?” I asked with forlorn hope.

  “Within the limitations of your language and concepts… I doubt it,” he said with an indulgent smile. “Suffice it to say, there are no “versions” of me in that sense. There is only me.”

  “Oh.”

  Well, seriously, what else could I say? It just amounted to another reminder this was a very imbalanced relationship.

  “But that is neither here nor there,” he continued, while handing me the can, “for tonight is not about me. You are the star of this evening’s drama, and it is now racing toward its conclusion. By the by, you will find the bottle you need in the cabinet over the sink.

  “Thanks,” I replied cautiously as I moved to the directed area. I opened the door to find the bottle sitting prominently next to a box of plastic inserts. “But I’m guessing you didn’t just drop by to direct me to baby bottles.”

  “No, Mr. Garrett.” His voice dropped and grew serious. “I must confess I do find myself curious about your recent decisions. You were not sent here on a mission of mercy.”

  Yeah, I saw that one coming. I did a long, slow exhale as I opened the can of formula and emptied it into the bottle. The gurgle of the liquid pouring sounded uncomfortably loud in the silence that seemed to await my response. I had just been called on the carpet and I knew it.

  “So I’m guessing I’ve made a few footprints in the sands of time then.”

  He steepled his fingers under his chin as he studied me, his dark eyes glittering.