Backtracker (91 page)

*****

Chapter
4
6

55 Park Road was a two
-
story box with pale blue siding.

53 Park Road was a low, white rancher built of cinder block.

51 Park Road was a shabby old farmhouse.

49 Park Road was a well
-
kept A
-
frame.

There was a lot of space between the homes along Park Road; in many cases, the gaps were so wide that new homes could have fit easily between those already in place. Despite all the room separating the houses, though, they still passed quickly; the Camaro was moving slowly, but it would still reach its destination too soon for Dave
'
s liking.

As the countdown to 41 Park Road progressed, he grew increasingly agitated. His stomach knotted and his pulse raced, his thoughts steadily grew more erratic and he felt himself approaching a state of panic.

He knew that
he had
to go on, had to try to resolve the crisis.
He had
to stop Larry from killing again;
he had
to protect Billy. Perhaps more than anything, he needed answers, had to find out the truth about Larry Smith.

Everything that had happened over the past weeks had been building up to this time, this test...and he truly wanted to face it, truly craved a conclusion. Likewise, however, he was terrified, consumed by a crippling fear. He was terrified of the killer; he feared for his own life and that of Billy Bristol. When he remembered the faceless kid, he wanted to make Billy turn the car around and speed to safety.

47 Park Road was a nondescript prefab with white siding.

45 Park Road was the same as 47, but with pale yellow siding.

Dave shifted restlessly in his seat, wishing that he
didn
'
t
have to go further. He wished that
he'd
never met Larry, that
he'd
never been caught up in the mystery and mayhem.

He wished that
he'd
never seen the faceless kid.

43 Park Road was a rundown Cape Cod with a yard full of lawn jockeys and elves.

Dave wanted to go home.

"
There it is,
"
said Billy. He sounded about as enthusiastic about their arrival as Dave felt.
"
There
'
s the place, man.
"

Dave looked to the left.

41 Park Road was a split
-
level with white siding and a brick footer.

The house
didn
'
t
look old, but it
hadn
'
t
been maintained very well. The siding was dirty, almost gray; shingles were missing from spots on the roof, and the rain gutters sagged from the eaves. The front yard was a mess of mud and murky puddles; it was cluttered with haphazard piles of brick and wood and junk, as if construction on the place had never been quite finished and the building materials had never been moved. Two sections of unpainted fence bracketed the mouth of the gravel driveway
-
but the crossbars of one fence had been snapped in the middle, and one of the uprights of the other had been knocked to the ground.

There was one car in the driveway, a silver Cadillac which was at least ten years old. The car was filthy and in a state of disrepair equaling that of the house.

Dave glanced around, looking for Larry
'
s car. He
didn
'
t
see the gray Honda anywhere along the road or in any of the nearby driveways.

Immediately, he felt a wave of relief...followed by a wave of disappointment. Part of him was delighted that Larry might not be there; another part of him was disconsolate at the possible absence of the man with all the answers, the
only
man with the answers.

Billy let the Camaro glide slowly past the house.
"
We
'
ll turn around up here and double back,
"
he explained matter
-
of
-
factly.

"
Okay,
"
said Dave, still searching for the Honda. It occurred to him that Larry might have switched cars; it would have been smart to abandon the Honda, in case the partners had gone to the cops and given them a description of that vehicle.

A green Volkswagen Beetle was parked across the road from the house; Dave wondered if Larry had driven that car to the scene. There was a red pickup in the driveway of 40 Park Road, but Dave
didn
'
t
think that Larry would have just pulled into a neighbor
'
s driveway like that. He did think that it was possible that Larry had brought the silver Cadillac, though; perhaps, the victim
'
s own car was in the garage connected to the house.

At 38 Park Road, Billy rolled the Camaro into a driveway, then backed the car out so that it pointed in the direction from which it had come. He guided the vehicle toward the Moses house, pulled it off the road by a clump of unkempt hedges which seemed to divide the property from that next
-
door.

"
This oughtta
'
be a good spot,
"
he said flatly, switching off the ignition.
"
If he
'
s in there, he shouldn
'
t see the car right away, but we
'
re close enough that we can get to it pretty quick.
"

Dave nodded.

With a sigh, Billy plucked his revolver from the floor; he snapped out the cylinder and turned it with his thumb to check the chambers. Every chamber held a cartridge.

"
Well, I guess we might as well go,
"
said Billy, flicking the cylinder back into place.
"
Gun
'
s loaded, and I
'
ve got plenty of extra ammo.
"
He patted one of the pockets of his jeans, and there was a muted clinking sound; apparently, the pocket was full of bullets.

"
Let
'
s see what that asshole
'
s up to,
"
said Billy, opening the door.

Dave nodded.

*****

Chapter
4
7

When the Miraclemaker had finished gouging the woman
'
s corpse with the kitchen knife, joyfully mutilating her lifeless husk with her own weapon, he noticed that the rot had spread dramatically.

When last
he'd
examined himself, the deterioration had been confined to the underside of his right arm. Now, to his horror, he found that
both
arms were infested.

Puffing from the strenuous battle with the woman and the merry frenzy of her murder, he stared disbelievingly at the corrupted limbs. In all the excitement,
he'd
briefly forgotten about his condition; now, seeing how drastically it had worsened, he felt as shocked and sickened as when
he'd
first spotted the original decay.

The flesh of both arms had erupted, all the way around, all the way from his wrists to his sleeves. His skin was blackened and split, peeling away in places; masses of bloody boils pulsed amid glistening fissures and sores.

A vermilion slime coated the crust; he
didn
'
t
know if the gluey film was the woman
'
s blood or the awful discharge of his own abscesses.

Though his hands
hadn
'
t
fully transformed, he could see that they were on their way. Inky blotches stained his palms and the backs of the hands, extending as far as the knuckles.

Whimpering, he shut his eyes tightly.

It was going to happen. He knew it now, without a doubt: It was going to
happen
.
Bit by bit, he would decompose; just as
he'd
feared, his entire body would molder and suppurate, irrevocably putrefy.

It was going to happen.

How far had the rot
already
spread? He
didn
'
t
want to know. He
didn
'
t
want to look under his clothes; most of all, he
didn
'
t
want to look in a mirror.

His face.

What if his face was already...

With a sudden surge of will, he shot his eyes open and spun to face the wailing cupboard. He knew that
he had
to get on with it, had to finish; his fear and despair were formidable, but he
couldn
'
t
surrender to them, not yet.

He was rotting; he was running out of time. That was all the more reason to hurry, to push himself to complete his mission. After all that
he'd
been through, he
couldn
'
t
allow himself to shirk the holy crusade which gave meaning to his suffering.

With newfound strength, the Miraclemaker strode purposefully to the cupboard. He flung open the door, and the shrieking from inside was immediately amplified.

For an instant, he stared at the child. Its face was scarlet and crinkled, its mouth wide as it howled; its tiny fists and feet twitched and wriggled in the air.

The Miraclemaker nodded. Power swelled within him, and he knew that he could do it, do what
he'd
come to do.

He reached for the infant.

*****

Chapter
4
8

Like burglars stalking the site of a heist, Dave and Billy crouched low and furtively hustled from cover to cover. With Billy leading the way, they darted from the clump of hedges near the car to a tumble of lumber a few feet away; from there, they sprinted several yards to a pile of brick and cinder block.

After scurrying to a heap of tree limbs and rusted scrap metal, they paused. Squatting in the mud, they surveyed the terrain; there was no more decent cover between their position and the house, no
junk piles
large enough to conceal them.

As he waited for his partner to proceed, Dave shivered. The rain was still pouring, and the cold wind gusted steadily;
he'd
only been out of the car for a minute or two, and he was already soaked to the skin.

Not only was he drenched and freezing, but his nerves had gone haywire; his trembling was due as much to his extreme agitation as to the climate. He was well into a full
-
fledged panic; he was so overloaded with worry and fear that he felt as if he might seize up and collapse at any instant.

His mind was wheeling in a hundred different directions. He was besieged by conflicting and equally powerful imperatives: he felt compelled to run away...and also to push ahead and get it over with; to whack Billy over the head with a hunk of wood and go on alone...and to whack Billy over the head and drag him back to the car, then race off and never return to 41 Park Road.

Dazed by the flurry of clashing compulsions, he took no initiative of his own, instead deferred to Billy Bristol
'
s leadership. When Billy scooted from the pile of limbs and metal to the corner of the house, Dave silently followed.

For the moment, they were out of the line of sight of anyone inside. Flattened against the wall, they
wouldn
'
t
be easily seen from the two high windows on the side of the house and they were hidden around the corner from the front bay window.

Lingering at the spot, Billy pressed an ear to the siding; Dave listened, too, but could hear no sound from within the house.

Turning to his friend, Billy shrugged, then bobbed his head toward the front of the house. Crouching, he started around the corner.

For an instant, Dave hesitated; then, he went after his partner.

*****

Chapter
49

"
Hi, Mikey
!
"
cooed the Miraclemaker, cradling the child in his misshapen, rotting arms.
"
How are
you
?
How are
you
?
"