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Authors: William W. Johnstone

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BOOK: Cat's Cradle
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“Yes. They said they had no authority to do what I requested. Said they wouldn’t do it. I asked them if they’d ever spent much time in jail. After thinking that over, they said I’d have to put my request in writing, sign it, and take full responsibility for it. I told them I would be happy to do that.”
“I’ll sign it, too,” Taylor said. He met Dan’s eyes. “The other plan still Go?”
“Yes.”
The trooper nodded.
“Sheriff,” a deputy interrupted, seconds after the radio squawked. “That was Jake. He says he spotted a big fire out at the old terminal.”
“Now what?” Langway asked.
“They are free from the womb,” Denier said.
Louis looked at Denier, open, ill-concealed hostility in his eyes. “What is free? What are you babbling about now?”
“I do not babble,” Denier said, at last showing a bit of temper. “The Old Ones are free.”
“Balderdash, poppycock, and pure hogwash!” Louis said.
Methodist just about told Louis to shut his mouth.
Presbyterian was on the verge of putting his sentiments a great deal more bluntly. And crudely.
“I gather then,” Dan said, “that means you will not help us in any way?”
“Sheriff,” Louis said, his tone that of an adult speaking to a child. A not-very-bright child. “All that has happened can be explained in a logical manner. You and your men are tired. I understand that. You’ve all been working under a strain lately. Fatigue tends to cloud the mind. You’re all seeing things that aren’t there. As for the weather, well, it’s a front, that’s all. You’ll see. You’ll all laugh at your behavior later, believe me.”
Methodist now shared Presbyterian’s views. He said a silent prayer asking for forgiveness for the profanity in his mind.
Dan bit back a sharp comment and said, with great patience, “Louis, it’s well over a hundred degrees outside. That is far above the average for this time of year. The daytime average. And don’t you presume to tell me what I did or did not see.”
Susan Dodd had stood quietly against a wall, listening to the exchange. She now stepped in, telling the minister what had happened to Larry Quitman. The strange behavior of the cats in this area.
“My dear,” Louis said smugly, not knowing just how close he stood to getting a pop across the chops from “My Dear.” “It can and will all be explained. And the devil,” he chuckled, “has nothing to do with it.”
“All right then,” she challenged him. “Go ahead.”
“Go ahead—what?” Louis asked.
“Explain it!”
“Well . . . I can’t.”
“Well, then, until you can explain it,” Susan told him. “Why not shut your mouth and sit down!”
Louis Foster’s mouth closed with a snap. He sat down.
6
“That woman deputy of yours can play on my team anytime she likes,” Taylor told Dan, on the way out to the terminal. “I just might try to steal her, if I can convince her to become a highway cop.”
“She’s a good one,” Dan said. “But do you think either of us has much of a future in law enforcement after all of this?”
“Good point,” the captain agreed.
“Slow down!” Denier spoke from the back seat. Dan braked. “Pull in at that driveway.”
Dan cut to the right, almost missing the drive. His bright lights picked up the shadowy shapes of hundreds of cats.
“Holy smokes! ” Taylor said. “There must be hundreds of cats. Half the cats in the county have to be gathered around this house.”
There were cats almost anywhere the men looked. They covered the roof of the large home. The cats sprawled on the vehicles parked in the yard. They lay around the two story garage and storage area.
The men sat in the patrol car and stared.
Denier stirred on the back seat. “The girl is here,” he said. “Can either of you feel that intangible?”
“Something is making my flesh crawl,” Dan said.
“The hair on the back of my neck feels like it’s standing up,” Taylor said.
“Evil,” Denier said. “In its darkest form. Pure evil, if you like.”
“I wish Louis was here to see this,” Dan said. “And to feel it.”
“He’d probably dismiss it as cats in heat and the high humidity,” Taylor replied.
“Don’t be too harsh on the man,” Denier said. “He was voicing his convictions and is entitled to them,”
“But you don’t agree with him,” Dan said, looking at the priest, then back at the cats.
Denier smiled. “No,” he said softly.
“A car in the drive,” the woman said, looking out through a crack in the barricade over the window. “It’s a police car.”
“I’m gonna kill your brother,” her husband said, looking at the double-barrel coach gun on the couch. “I’m gonna get him for this.”
She smiled, despite their predicament. “Nobody twisted your arm to buy it, did they?”
“Don’t remind me. He should have been a snake-oil salesman.” He looked out the window. “Car’s coming closer. Sheriff’s department, I think.”
Dan pulled in close to the house and used his PA speaker. “You folks all right in there?” He cracked his window a bit.
“Yes!” the man yelled. “Sheriff Garrett? Is that you?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s going on around here?”
Dan looked at Taylor. “I was afraid he was going to ask that.” He looked at his hood. Several cats were walking on it. He hit the siren. It did not bother the cats at all. “Can any cats get inside?” he asked.
“No,” the man yelled. “I don’t think so. We have plenty of food and water and have barricaded ourselves in the den. But it’s very hot.”
“It’s very hot all over the county. Weather front, the National Weather Service says.”
“You lie so convincingly,” Taylor said. “You missed your calling. You should have been a politician.”
“I am a politician,” Dan said.
“Sheriff?” the man yelled. “What is going on?”
“We’ve got a very dangerous situation in this county, sir. Those cats are attacking people. We’re ordering all people to stay inside and do not, repeat, do not, go outside for any reason. Keep your doors and windows locked. We’ll try to have this problem solved by late tomorrow.”
“Wonderful,” the man said to his wife.
“Can you get rid of those cats?” the woman yelled.
“I don’t know how, ma’am. But we’re working on the solution. All I can tell you is to bear with us.”
“He’s as bad as your brother,” the man said, smiling, no malice in his comment. He wiped sweat from his face. He raised his voice, “You don’t sell used shotguns, do you Sheriff?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Skip it. Our phones are out, Sheriff. We have no way of communicating with the outside.”
“I’m sorry, sir. The county has been closed off. Orders from the federal government. Very dangerous wreck up the road. Hang on, sir.”
“Right, Sheriff. Hanging on.” He looked at his wife. “Going to be a long, hot night, lady.”
Dan backed away from the house, hoping his tires would squash some of the cats. They darted out of the way. “Bastards,” Dan said.
Denier said, “The home seems secure and they barricaded themselves in. They seem reasonable people. If they can stand the heat, they’ll make it.”
“Yeah,” Dan said, looking at a cat sitting on his hood as he backed away. He slammed on his brakes and the cat went sliding off, yowling. “At least we know where the girl is—I guess.”
* * *
“I don’t care what the sheriff said,” the burly, unshaved man yelled at his wife. He looked at the houses left and right of his. Not their house. His. His neighbors’ homes were dark. All the windows pulled. “Stupid,” the man said. “Right in the middle of town and have to stay locked up. I ain’t gonna do it. I’m opening the goddamned windows. I can’t take no more of this. And what’s the matter with that lousy air-conditioner? ”
“Vic,” his wife pleaded. “Let’s get in the center of the house and barricade ourselves in. Please?”
“No! I’m not movin’ all that junk around for a bunch of pussycats.”
“The cats are dangerous, Vic. They . . .”
“The heck with the cats, Grace. It’s just a bunch of pussycats. Lemme get my gun. I’ll scatter the little pests.”
“Vic, I’m begging you. Don’t go out there. Do this one thing for me, Vic?”
The man looked at her, disgust in his eyes. He drained his beer can and belched. He squeezed the lightweight beer can in his hand, crushing it. Marvelous feat of strength. Something the average six year old could do. But considered by some to be very macho. “Grace, just get me my shotgun and that box of shells. Don’t argue with me, just do it.”
The much vocally and occasionally physically abused woman stared at her husband. As she had done so often, she thought: Why did I ever marry you? Why? She slowly nodded her head. She knew why. Big hot shot in high school. Big dud later. “Okay, Vic. Whatever you say.” She turned and went to their bedroom, returning in a moment with her husband’s shotgun. She handed it to him, along with a box of shells. She said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her eyes were saying it all.
Vic loaded up the shotgun and stuffed his pockets with extra shells.
“You can open the windows now, baby,” he said with a smile. “I’ll scare all the big, bad cats away.”
She continued to stare in silence at him.
He wanted to slap her silent face. “You really hate me, don’t you, Grace?”
“No, Vic,” she said wearily. “I just don’t feel anything anymore.”
“Look at all them houses around us,” Vic said, waving his arm. “Right in the middle of town and they are scared out of their gourd. Not me. I ain’t scared of no house cat. Not Vic.”
She turned away and sat down at the kitchen table, pouring a glass of iced tea.
Vic unlocked the back door and stepped out onto the porch. He heard Grace lock the door behind him. “Stupid witch,” he muttered. He stepped off the porch and into the unnaturally hot night. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he called. “Come to Ol’ Vic. Ol’ Vic’s got a present for you.”
The cats came. Silently, deadly, the blood lust high within them.
* * *
Dan pulled onto the road leading to the terminal. The three men could see the lights from the dying fire.
Denier looked at the dim outlines of the buildings and said, “You chose well, Sheriff. It’s evil. Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” both men replied. Dan saying. “But not as strong as I felt back at that house a minute ago.”
“It will increase,” the priest assured them. “Tell me something, if either of you can. Has any business ever succeeded here?”
Dan thought back. “Come to think of it, no. Not as far back as I can recall. I remember my dad telling me that during his lifetime, a dozen or so businesses were located, at one time or the other, in this vicinity. They all went under. Granddad said about the same, I remember. That’s odd, isn’t it?”
Denier was silent, staring at the terminal site. “There was a road through here at one time. And a village.”
Taylor twisted in his seat, staring at the man. “Back during the Revolutionary War, yes, sir. The whole town burned and was rebuilt twice. After the second fire, the people moved to what is now Valentine.”
“Yes. For a very good reason. They were trespassing,” the priest said.
“Trespassing, sir?” Dan asked.
“Satan has claimed this land as his own.”
Both lawmen felt their skin turn clammy.
“Be careful at the terminal, gentlemen,” Denier said. “There are ... well,
things
moving about.”
“Things, Father?” Dan asked.
“Things. Little spawns of hell. Be careful.”
Dan put the car in gear and moved out. The gate was closed and chained and guarded. A man carrying an M-16 walked up to the gate.
“Sheriff Garrett,” Dan called. “Open the gate or I’ll ram my way through.”
“No need to get hostile, Sheriff,” the guard said. “You can come in. Lou said you’d probably be out, all hot and bothered.”
Dan muttered an obscenity under his breath. Concerning Lou.
The guard opened the heavy gate and waved Dan in and to a halt. “Be careful in there, boys,” He looked at Denier. “Father. Bless me, Father?”
Denier nodded and did. “A believer among the heathens?” Denier asked with a smile.
“Yes, Father,” the guard replied solemnly. “It’s hell in there. I mean it, be careful. The mummy-man is loose, and so is that infected deputy of yours, Sheriff. We’ve got guards all along the fence line. More coming in. We hope,” he added. And there is ... well, some sort of maggot-like worms loose. Worse than piranha. That’s why you see those gasoline cans stacked over there. Fire seemed to kill them. But they breed like rabbits.”
“What do you mean, you hope you have more people coming in?” Taylor asked.
The guard shrugged. “Lou can’t get through. He thinks something’s gone sour.”
“Electrify the fence,” Dan said. “That should stop them. You’ve got the capacity to do that, I know.”
“Good idea. I’ll radio that into Lou.” He waved them on.
“Don’t bother,” Dan said. “I’ll tell him myself.” Dan dropped the car in gear and rolled on.
“Maggots?” Taylor asked. “Yukk!”
“Little creatures of hell,” Denier said. “I told you, Satan is playing. All this is nothing but a big joke to the Dark One.”
“Weird sense of humor,” Dan said. “What if the maggots get out of this area?” he mused aloud.
Taylor looked at him. “Easy, Dan. Let’s take one problem at a time, huh?”
Dan parked by the hospital trailers. He saw a shattered window in one, a broken door in the other. Bowie and the engineer, he guessed. He spotted Goodson and got out. “Getting a little out of hand, isn’t it, Doctor?” he asked drily.
“If that is supposed to be funny, Sheriff, it isn’t,” the doctor said testily.
Dan said nothing. He noticed that Goodson would not meet Father Denier’s eyes.
“When did you add it all up, Doctor Goodson?” Denier asked.
“A few days ago,” the doctor said. He still would not look at the priest.
Denier stood in the night, staring at the doctor. “You should have contacted me when you first suspected.”
Without replying, Goodson turned around and walked slowly into his lab.
Denier sighed and shook his head.
“Goodson!” Dan called.
The man looked around, standing in the door of the trailer.
“Where are you people keeping Ms. Smith and her friend?”
Goodson looked startled. “What?”
“Yeah, you probably don’t know,” Dan said.
Bennett and the other doctors joined Goodson around the open door. “What about this Smith person?” Bennett asked.
“She and a male companion were kidnapped by Lou Lamotta,” Dan informed the doctors. “They’re being held out here, somewhere.”
“I don’t believe that!” Bennett said.
“Believe it,” Lou said, walking up. He carried an M-16. He looked at Dan. “You boys come out to join the festivities tonight?”
“In a manner of speaking, Lamotta. First I want Ms. Smith and Kenny.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to have them.”
“Maybe I don’t care what you want any more, Lamotta. From now on, I’m running this show.”
Lou laughed, a big, booming, arrogant laugh. “I tell you what, Sheriff. You may be dumb, but you sure don’t lack for guts, buddy-boy.” He wiped sweat from his face. “Now, Sheriff, just how do you think two cops and one priest are going to take over here?”
Dan smiled grimly. He glanced at his watch. “Because, Lamotta, in exactly twelve minutes, if you have not turned over control to me and Captain Taylor, eight regular deputies, a half a dozen auxiliary deputies, my chief deputy, and four Virginia Highway Patrolmen will storm this place, and they will be coming in shooting.” He lifted his M-10, pointing the muzzle at Lou’s belly. “And, buddy-boy, I’ll start the dance by killing you.”
All around the tight little tense knot of men, Lou’s people had stopped, listening to the exchange. Some of them lifted their weapons. Bolts snicked in the night, just audible over the dying crackle of flames.
“I think you’re bluffing, buddy-boy,” Lamotta said.
“Try me,” Dan flung the challenge at him.
The men engaged in a silent staring contest for half a minute. Finally, a slow smile crinkled Lou’s lips. He shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, Sheriff. But you’re dumb, buddy-boy. Just plain dumb. You know why? ’Cause all you had to have done to keep your ass clear, is just stand back. The government would have had to take all the heat for this ...” He waved his hand. “... Mess! But now, buddy-boy,
you
got to take it. Okay. Fine. No sweat.” He smiled, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Figuratively speaking, that is.”
BOOK: Cat's Cradle
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