Dead Man's Song

Get the hell out of here. Go. Now.



Ten yards to go, and he wondered—not for the first time—if maybe it was Vic himself in that wrecker after all. Jesus, is he really that crazy? Is it him up there? He felt terror grab at him, but he fought for control. No, he told himself, no. Vic is probably at home. Vic is home getting drunk and probably slapping Mom around. Or maybe doing whatever it was he did to her in their bedroom that made her scream like that. Mike knew that Vic did things—bad things—that made his mother scream and cry out at night, sex things that Vic wanted Mike to hear because he knew it would hurt to hear that stuff. But…was this him?



Five yards to go and he could see the glow of the wrecker’s headlights, pointing upward at a weird angle. Pointing crookedly at the sky. Mike frowned. No, Mike thought. Vic may be crazy, but this isn’t Vic. This is someone else.



Three yards to go and then someone leapt out of the shadows at him. Mike screamed as the huge bulk, a mass of shadows silhouetted by the wrecker’s headlights, sprang at him, huge hands reaching, his mouth shrieking with a sound that tore the night to rags. Mike jerked the handlebars hard to one side and leaned over them, throwing his weight to the left and down, kicking down on the pedals, mixing all his weight and muscle as he veered desperately away from the monstrous form. The hulking shape had only a few yards to cross and he’d have him, but Mike had a deep slope, the constancy of gravity, and the iron in his legs put there by total terror. Mike shot past him, down the slope that pointed back to town. It was way too close, though.



It was so close that as the demon fled down the hill Tow-Truck Eddie felt cloth and hair teasing the tips of his fingers; then there was nothing but cold dark air at the ends of his fingers and the demon shot away down the hill, picking up speed so fast that he seemed to shrink instead of go farther away. If it had been on flat land, Tow-Truck Eddie might have had him, but as he tried to run down the steep slope his bruised right knee buckled with each step.



Mike belted down the hill and up the next. He didn’t stop until he was nearly a mile away, and at that distant, lofty perch he finally stopped. He literally fell sideways off the bike and lay there, gasping, barely able to breathe. His chest was a howling red-hot mass of pain, his lungs were burned raw, and lights danced all around him in a mad fireworks display. Even at that distance, Mike could see the figure of the man. He appeared to be jumping up and down in place, tearing at himself in a fit of such awful rage that it scared Mike. He stared in shock and confusion, in growing horror at the realities of the situation. Who was this madman? He was too big to be Vic.



Then it hit him, and he could not believe that he hadn’t seen it before. A big man, a wrecker—both with ties to Vic. The man who had just tried to kill him had to be Tow-Truck Eddie.



Knowing it still didn’t help him make sense of it. Why would Tow-Truck Eddie be trying to kill him? It made no sense, none. Everyone knew Eddie as being super religious. And, besides he was a…cop. Mike lay there, unable to move, shocked to a vigilant stillness, watching the man dance with rage, watching as he sank slowly down to one knee, burying his head in his hands, becoming part of the shadows of the hill for a moment; and then saw the man throw back his head and let out a howl of such pure bloody rage that the whole night was torn by it. It rose above the hills and the trees and into the starfield above; it was a terrible thing to hear, and it struck some primal chord of fear in Mike that came near to choking him. The howl rolled over the hills at him, a cry of frustration as much as it was an awful promise.



Chapter 28



(1)



Val and Connie strolled quietly down the lanes between the corn as stars blossomed and wheeled overhead. It was dark, but Val had the pistol snug in the back of her waistband and Diego and two of the hands were still on the property, working one field away on a tractor that had broken down. The glow of lanterns and the hum of a portable generator where the men worked was a comfort to both women.



Mostly they didn’t talk, and when they did it wasn’t about Mark or the recent violence. The safest subject for Connie was a discussion of Val’s wedding plans. Connie warmed to that subject immediately and was filled with ideas for making the event the talk of the season. Most of Connie’s suggestions were frou-frou nonsense that would have had Val in too many layers of Italian lace with her hair in curlicues, but Val let her ramble. It was refreshing to hear Connie enthused about something.



Several times, however, she stole covert glances at her watch, wondering why Crow wasn’t back by now. If he’s fallen down the mountain and broken his damn leg I’ll break the other one for him, she decided. When her cell phone rang she looked at it, expecting it to be him, but frowned at the number on the LCD display. She flipped it open.



“Hello…Terry?”



“Val? I’ve been trying to call Crow all day but he’s not answering and I need to speak to him but he doesn’t pick up the—”



“Whoa, Terry, slow down. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is something wrong with Sarah, the kids?”



Terry’s tirade ground to a halt and he barked out a dry, totally humorless laugh. “Wrong? Shit. What isn’t wrong?”



Val blinked, still surprised by Terry’s recent vocabulary shift. Back when they had dated he would never have used a vulgarity. “Terry? Jesus, what is it? Tell me what’s going on.” Connie raised her eyebrows to ask what was up but Val held up a hand for her to wait. “Terry, tell me what’s happening? Is it something with you and Sarah?”



“No, no, not that. Thank God, it’s not that, too.”



“Then what? Are you sick?”



There was that dry laugh again. “Sick? Yeah, I guess you could say that.”



“Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?”



“I’ve been to doctors. I’ve been to a dozen doctors. Frigging quacks, all of them, Val…you just don’t know…. Nobody knows.”



“What, Terry? What don’t I know? Tell me.”



“Val,” Terry breathed huskily and Val realized with a start that Terry was crying. Softly, but wretchedly. “I think I’m over the edge, Val,” Terry said in a tortured voice. “I think I’m gone.”



“Hey…hey, now…,” she said.



Terry’s voice broke into pieces and collapsed into ruin, and Val thought she knew the shape of this. Crow had told her about Terry’s dreams and delusions. They must be intensifying, ganging up on him. Val stood there for a long time, just listening to the big man cry like a lost child. She tried to say soothing things, but felt hamstrung. She opened her mouth to speak and then abruptly there was the sound of fingers fumbling on the receiver. A voice said tentatively, “Who is this, please?”



“Sarah?”



“Val? Oh, thank God!”



“Sarah, what the hell is happening? What’s wrong with Terry?”



“He’s in the bathroom now. Oh, Val—I just don’t know what to do.”



“What’s wrong?”



“He’s…well, he’s not well.” Sarah lowered her voice. “Remember what I told you—the dreams and all? It’s gotten so much worse lately. I have a call into his doctor.”



“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. Is this because of the blight and all? Or the older stuff? From…when we were kids?” She didn’t want to say much more with Connie standing close by, but Sarah caught the drift.



“I—think so.” She paused. “He’s told me this morning Mandy has been following him around.”



Val echoed softly. “I know…Crow told me a little, but—”



“He said that she’s been trying to get him to kill himself. The medication’s not helping. I’m so scared, Val. I’ve…sent for an ambulance.” Sarah was starting to cry now. “He’s falling apart. I can see it happening but I can’t do anything for him.”



“Hey! Listen to me, Sarah,” Val said, putting some steel in her voice. “Believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to break down right now. Later, but not right now. This is going to sound really harsh, but suck it up because you can’t let him see you fall apart. Not now, not until he’s under care. You hear me?”



Val could almost hear Sarah take a steadying breath. “Right. Right…but…shit!”



“Sure, get mad, honey, that’s good, it’ll help—but stay focused.”



Sarah gave a funny little laugh. “God, I wish I had your strength, Val.”



“Honey, I don’t even have my strength. It’s all smoke and mirrors.”



“Bullshit,” Sarah said, but she sounded like she was standing on firmer ground.



“Should I come over? I can be there in fifteen minutes.” Then she caught sight of the look on Connie’s face. “Connie’s with me. We can both come. Get some girl power going.”



“No,” she said sharply, “but if they want him to check into the hospital could you come over there later, sit with me for a bit? Can I ask that?”



“Sure. Call me once you know what’s happening and I’ll scoot on over. Me and Connie. Crow should be back soon, too. We’ll all come over.”



“He keeps asking for Crow.”



“Yeah, I know, but Crow’s out of touch right now, but he should be back soon. Look, you get him ready and we’ll all see you later. And…Sarah? I love you. Both of you. Tell Terry that he’s not alone.”



“Thanks, Val, I’ll tell him,” Sarah said, and hung up.



Val closed her phone and looked at Connie, then told her the bones of the conversation.



“That poor man,” Connie said in a motherly way, but her eyes were nearly vacant. After a moment they started walking again, taking the long way around that would bring them up past the barn and then back to the house.



I think I’m over the edge, Val, I think I’m gone. There had been such pain, such terrible fear in Terry’s voice as he said it. Such awful conviction that the observation was true. “Damn…” she said softly.