Cat's Cradle (12 page)

The troopers grinned. They were all under thirty, in top physical condition, all of them rarin’ to go.

Taylor said, “These boys, Dan, represent a part of this division’s Special Weapons and Tactical Team. Coincidence, I’m sure,” he added with a straight face.

“Of course,” Dan said, with an equally straight face. “And you all are now on official vacation?”

“That is correct,” Taylor said.

A deputy stuck his head into Dan’s office. “Sheriff? Just got a call from a neighbor of Mickey Reynolds. She said there was some kind of big ruckus over there last night. Lights stayed on all night long. She says she hasn’t heard a peep from that house this morning, and all the shades are pulled. She says that’s real odd.”

“All right,” Dan said. “Chuck, introduce the, ah, visiting vacation boys around, will you? I’ll go take a look at the Reynolds’ house.”

“I’ll tag along if you don’t mind,” Taylor said.

“Glad to have you.”

The duty dispatcher stuck her head into the office. “Another body’s been found, Sheriff.”

* * *

Dan was torn between investigating the DB call and going to Mickey’s house. The latter prevailed. Something nagged at him; something in the back of his mind said that the Reynolds’ house was important. Check it out.

Taylor rode with Dan, both of them dressed in civilian clothes. Both of them carrying pistols in shoulder holsters. They parked in front of the Reynolds’ house and sat for a moment, looking at the home. All the drapes and shades were pulled tightly closed. The house seemed to emit an empty force.

“I don’t like the feeling I’m getting,” Taylor said.

“Yeah. I feel the same way. Come on. Let’s check it out.”

Dan rang the doorbell and then banged on the front door. Nothing. He tried the doorknob. It turned in his hand. He cracked the door. Something howled and screamed and flew at the men.

It was a cat. The cat leaped into the front yard, went to the bathroom, then sat on the lawn, looking at the men.

“That thing took five years off my life,” Taylor gasped.

“At least,” Dan said. He called, “Mickey? Betty? Anyone home?”

Silence greeted his words. Stillness, and something else: the sharp odor of sweat ... and a foul odor that was somehow familiar to Dan.

“Smells like a locker room in there,” Taylor said. “One that hasn’t been cleaned for about a month.”

“Yeah.” Dan pushed open the door, allowing morning sunlight to flood the small foyer. Then it came to Dan. What he was smelling was the same thing he’d smelled in the back yard of the Milford house.

The house looked as though it had been trashed.

“Good Lord!” Taylor said, peering over Dan’s shoulders at the mess.

“Let’s check the back,” Dan said.

“I’m with you.”

The back screen door was hanging open, one hinge broken. The kitchen door was shattered. A toaster lay on the porch floor, amid sparkling shards of broken glass. The toaster was bent and broken.

“Domestic quarrel?” Taylor ventured. “You know these people, I don’t.”

“I doubt it. Mickey was not a violent man. Of course, I realize that doesn’t mean a damn thing. People do snap.”

“Just a suggestion. We don’t get to work many family fights out on the highways. Just a lot of broken up bodies, caused by ignorant, arrogant, uncaring drunks.” Taylor was still very much a highway cop, with a highway cop’s contempt for those who drink and drive.

The men stepped onto the back porch, Dan leading the way. The kitchen was as littered and torn-up as the living room.

The many drawings and paintings on the walls pulled the men into silent staring. Finally, Taylor summed it up.

“They’re . . .
hideous
!”

“Yes,” Dan said. But he was looking at something else. He pointed it out. “Cats. Cats of all sizes and shapes. And very crude drawings of human sacrifices.” He stepped closer and touched one of the red drawings. He sighed with relief. “Red crayon. At thought I first they were done in blood.”

Taylor stepped closer, inspecting the wall. “And a small child. The cat seems to be following the child in this drawing.”

“And the child is carrying the cat in this one. What do you make of it?”

“I just don’t know.”

“That makes three of us,” the voice came from the back porch.

The only visitor to the second floor of the storage garage had been a stray cat. Silent messages had passed between Anya and Pet and the cat. The cat had left. Anya and Pet knew they were as safe as they had been in days, for no one had been in or near the large brick home since their arrival. They could sense the home was unoccupied. At least for the time being. They elected to remain in the garage.

They knew they were safe, momentarily. They also knew they were trapped. But they had to stay; the rebirth was near.

It was not safe to travel the countryside. Too many men were hunting them. They had spent several days attempting to leave this area, testing what they both suspected. Each time they tried to leave, silent voices called them back. Then they were sure. Silent stirrings were all about them. Old voices, long mute, were silently echoing about this area. And the Master was close. Waiting, watching. Anya and Pet could feel the Old Ones struggling to rebirth.

The time was drawing near. Pet had done her duty, calling on her kind for help. They waited, gathering in groups.

Anya and Pet waited, listening to the silent voices. More and more had been added. Dark laughter joined the voices. Moans of those long-dead echoed around the area, unheard except to those who worshipped another god. The Dark One. Master of Filth. Lord of Evil. The Prince of Darkness.

He was here!

Anya and Pet laughed and laughed.

* * *

“Like a bad penny, Dodge,” Dan said. “You keep popping up where least expected.”

Dodge looked around him at the torn and ruined kitchen; the many drawings on the walls. “You were going to tell me about this, weren’t you, Sheriff?”

“Well,” Taylor said drily, “even though we’re not professionals like you, Dodge, we were sorta going to muddle through. I mean, give it our best shot and all that. Country cops that we are.”

Dodge smiled. “You don’t like me very much, do you, Captain?”

Taylor’s eyes told him the silent answer.

“I’m just like you, Captain. I’m taking orders and doing a job. I thought you were on vacation?”

“Oh, I am. You want to try to force me to take it elsewhere, Dodge?”

“Not at all.” Dodge reached into his jacket pocket and produced a sheet of paper. “These are orders from your governor, gentlemen. Anything that happens in Ruger County, from this day forward, as far as the ongoing investigation is concerned, and I think you both know what investigation I’m speaking of, must be coordinated through my department. And that’s me, boys. You want to read this?”

Taylor almost tore it out of the man’s hands. He scanned the paper. “It’s legit,” he said.

Dodge spread his hands. “Would I lie?” he asked innocently.

“I think you’d do anything,” Dan said. He read the orders and handed the paper back to Dodge. “And I don’t believe you’re Bureau.”

“I started out with them. I was a good agent. I’m still associated with them ... in a roundabout way. And that’s all either of you need to know.”

“Dodge,” Taylor finally had it with the man. “You’re a real jerk.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Captain. I ... uh ... really am.”

“Sure.”

Dodge shrugged it off. “Well, back to business. What about all this?” He waved his hand.

“We don’t know,” Dan said. “We were about to make a search of the house when you started shooting off your mouth. May we continue our investigation?”

“Certainly. Don’t let me interfere.”

“What do you have on our governor, Dodge?” Taylor asked.

“Maybe he’s just being a good citizen, cooperating with us?”

“Sure!”

Dodge shrugged. “I don’t know, boys. That’s the truth. I really don’t. Boys, don’t crowd these people. They play rough. Believe it.”

“You sound as though you might be having some second thoughts about this bunch,” Dan said.

Again, the man shrugged it off.

The trio roamed the house, carefully inspecting each room. There were paintings and drawings on every wall, but no sign of life. Or death. Just that almost sickening odor. They could find no traces of blood, even though all knew there had been a terrible struggle in the house. Between somebody.

“What do you think, Sheriff?” Dodge asked.

“I don’t know.” Sometimes, Dan thought, Dodge could be almost likeable. Almost. “But it might make things easier between us if you’d level with me about what is going on out at the terminal.”

Dodge leaned against a wall and looked at Dan and Captain Taylor. He smiled, then said, “I went in the Navy at seventeen. A year later I was in Navy Intelligence. They found I had an aptitude for that sort of work. I took some college courses and when I got out, I finished up at NYCC. I’ve been a cop all my life. Just like you, Dan, and you, Captain Taylor. A cop. Not a medical person. You want me to level with you? Okay. I don’t know what is going on out there. But it scares me. I think they’re screwing around with blood samples and chromosomes and chromospheres and God only knows what else. I told you it scares me, and it does. They have that arm out there that’s growing a new body. Yeah! A new
body.
And that mummy-thing you guys shot! You think it’s dead? Forget it. It’s alive and well.”

The men listened with a mixture of horror and fascination.

“It scares me that it could get out of control. Like that time out west with the cattle. I was working the north range, Dan, while you boys were on the southern range. I saw it all. Like you, I
know
what went on out there. And this is the same bunch, boys. Older, wiser, and one hell of a lot rougher. I was against setting up the labs here in the county. I’m on record as being opposed to it. And I don’t care whether you believe that or not. Yes, I do care. I’m sick of this business. I just want to go back to being a cop. But I know too much. Too goddamn much. And just exactly what I predicted would happen, is happening. Right here in Ruger. But they wanted the materials and labs close. So I was over-ridden. That’s it, boys. Turn me in and you won’t see me again. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did. They are doing experiments out there. That’s all I know. And I’ll even take a PSE or polyograph on that.”

Both Dan and Taylor believed the man. Dan said, although he was not all that sure he wanted to hear the answer, “And what is happening that you predicted?”

Dodge waved his hand. “It’s spreading. The infection. The aging thing. The disease. Hell, I don’t know what it is. But the OSS doctors don’t care about that. Dan, what I’m telling you now can’t leave this room. You talk and you’re dead. And you, too.” He looked at Taylor. “But before you’re dead, you’ll be laughed out of the state. Because these guys are so good, so proficient, they can have the area wiped clean and be gone in twenty-five minutes. I’ve seen them do it with a hell of a lot more gear than they have out there now. And all you’ll have for proof is your thumb stuck up your rear.”

“That . . . incident that took place up in Missouri a couple years ago,” Taylor said. “Something about a chemical spill. That was no chemical spill, was it?”

“Well,” Dodge grimaced. “Yes and no. It wasn’t supposed to have happened. But it did. You see now how good they are at covering up?”

“Tell me about these OSS doctors,” Dan said.

“When I kicked up a fuss about the people in this county, the doctors said they weren’t concerned about them. That this was as good a county as any to contain if an accident did happen. I tell you, boys, this thing spooks me. I think we’re dealing with . . . don’t laugh . . . something, well, that we just don’t understand. Like a ... higher power maybe.”

“You mean, like
god
!” Taylor blurted.

“No,” Dodge said, a definite edge to his voice. “I mean, like the devil.”

“Dodge! ...” Taylor said, irritation in his voice.

“No, I’m serious. That mummy is speaking in some kind of strange language. One of the doctors working out there, whose hobby is ancient languages, says he never heard of this language. But he has managed to pick out three or four key words. The mummy is calling for the Dark One. The Master. I don’t have to tell either of you what the Dark One is, do I?”

Taylor felt a chill move slowly across his back. Turning his head, he looked again at the drawings on the wall. He stepped closer and looked hard at one. It was . . . indescribable in its revulsion. It was not a man, not an animal. It was a
thing.

He crossed himself. “I swear that was not there a few minutes ago,” he said.

“I believe it,” Dodge said.

The ringing of the phone startled them all. Dan picked it up and listened for a few seconds. He replaced the phone in the cradle and looked at Dodge.

Dodge was looking at the drawing Taylor had pointed out. It was changing before their eyes. “Our Father, who art in Heaven,” Dodge said. The words trailed off in his dry mouth.

Taylor and Dan stared at the drawing, horror filling them. The red crayon drawing was leaking, running in wet lines down the wall. With trembling fingers, Dodge took a napkin from the kitchen table and touched it to the liquid, staining the paper.

“It’s blood,” he whispered. “Blood.”

He backed away from the wall. He wrapped the napkin in a piece of foil picked up from the floor and put it in his pocket.

“I’d like to see the report from the lab on that,” Taylor said.

Dodge looked at the trooper. “I’m not so sure I do.” He shook himself, touched the pocket where he’d put the foil. He took several deep breaths and looked at the wall. The hideousness was no longer there. Just a long wet sticky trail of blood. “See what I mean,” he whispered.

“When did you first start thinking this had something to do with the devil?” Taylor asked.

“When it first occurred. Don’t ask me why or how—I don’t know. But I believe it.” He looked at Dan. “What was that phone call?”

“A couple of my people just found the Moore girl. At the high school garage. She’s alive, but just barely. She’s been tortured and strange markings cut into her flesh. Cats and kids and strange symbols. The ball’s in your court, Dodge. Where do we take her?”

Dodge looked tormented. He sighed. “This is going to make me sound awfully hard-hearted ...”

“We don’t have a choice,” Captain Taylor said. “So let me say it. If she’s been infected, and we take her out of the county, we endanger more lives. But if we call your people, Dodge, the girl gets used as a human guinea pig. That about wraps it all up?”

“Yes,” Dodge said. “That’s it.”

Both men looked at Dan.

Dan looked at the sticky smear on the wall, the pool of blood that had gathered on the floor. He was placed squarely on the horns of that much-talked about dilemma. He cursed. He handed the phone to Dodge. “Call your people. Tell them to go to the school and get her. I don’t have the right to endanger others.”

Dodge’s eyes were sad as he took the phone. “I’m sorry, Dan. I really am. I want you both to please believe me.”

“We believe you,” Taylor said. “And we’re sorry, too.”

Dodge said, “Look, if you guys think I’m hard, wait ’til you meet some of the boys who do this sort of work all the time.”

* * *

When Dan and Taylor arrived at the high school, a tractor-trailer rig was backed up to the bus garage. Dan knew what would be inside the trailer. Denise’s car. He looked in. He was right. When he stepped into the garage area, half a dozen coverall-clad men and women were just finishing up. They did not speak to him, and that did not hurt Dan’s feelings a bit.

In the time it had taken Dan and Captain Taylor to finish up at the Reynolds’ house and drive to the high school, all apparent traces of what had happened to Denise had been erased. Dan knew a careful investigation would show all kinds of blood and tissue embedded in the concrete floor and walls, but to the untrained eye, the place was clean.

And the cover-up continued, and Dan kept getting in deeper and deeper. With no apparent way out.

The man who had been with Dodge on the other side of the gates the night before was leaning up against a bus, smoking a cigarette.

Dan walked up to him. The man lifted his eyes. Cold, unreadable. “What do I call you?” Dan asked.

“Lou will do, Sheriff.”

“Do I get to see the girl?”

“Oh, sure, Sheriff. You’re into this cover-up all the way now. No point in holding back from you. You blow the whistle on us, you gotta blow it on yourself as well.”

“I’m under orders to work with you, Lou.”

Lou smiled knowingly. “But we’re holding the paper containing that order, Sheriff.”

Dan grunted. They had him boxed. No way to go but forward. “Cute,” he said.

Lou removed a dozen Polaroids from his coverall pocket and handed them to Dan. He studied Dan’s face closely as Dan inspected the pictures.

Dan and Taylor were silent as they viewed the prints. It was difficult for Dan to believe the girl had endured the savage torture. In some of the prints, Denise’s naked body had been washed clean, allowing the cuttings to be more clearly shot.

“What did you wash her with?” Taylor asked.

“Hosed her down,” Lou said.

Dan looked at the man, amazed at the insensitivity.

Lou shrugged. “She’s gonna die anyway. No big deal.”

Taylor said, “And the girl is still alive? After all of this?”

“Yeah. Barely. She probably won’t make it. She’s lost a lot of blood. The cuts themselves aren’t that deep. But maybe the doctors can learn something from her. Who knows?”

“And if she does make it?” Dan asked.

Lou’s smile did not waver. “We have people who can... ah ... fix it so she won’t remember anything. Like a fading bad dream. Miracles of modern medicine and all that.”

“And if she dies?” Taylor asked.

“Her body will never be found. If by some chance it is, it’s just another Jane Doe.”