Deadfall (24 page)

But that didn't happen. Dillon sidestepped back between the cots. His right foot cleared them; his left foot kicked Bad's cot.

The fist pounded more insistently, thumping against Hutch's sternum and ribs. Every muscle tightened as he prepared to pull back on the bowstring, straighten his fingers, and release the arrow.

Bad moaned. His head rotated on a thin pillow. His arm flopped off his chest and bridged the gap between his cot and Julian's.

Hutch realized that had Dillon bumped the head of the cot instead of the foot, resulting in the same movement of Bad's arm, Dillon would have been imprisoned by two cots, a desk, and Bad's arm.This time, though, luck was on their side. Dillon had frozen when his foot struck the cot; now he moved again. He passed in front of Hutch, under his taut arrow. When Dillon reached the hall, Hutch eased the tension on the bowstring and returned it to a ready-but-not-firing position. He backed into the hall. Boy and man found each other's eyes.They communicated more in that glance than they could have in an hour of talking. Hutch took the lead once again.

They reached a spot in the corridor where the left wall opened up in a wide arch. The vestibule was as large as a theater's. Its front wall contained two sets of double doors, which Hutch was sure opened to the outside, to the town's main street. Directly opposite was a wall that separated the vestibule from the building's main room, probably a combination gymnasium-theater-meeting hall. Two more sets of double doors allowed access to this area. Both sets were heavily chained and padlocked. The archway leading into the vestibule was on Hutch's left; on the right was a closed door. Another office, guessed Hutch. Another resting place for Declan's gang. Probably Declan himself.

Knowing he shouldn't, unable to resist, he reached for the door handle. If he witnessed Declan sleeping in there, would he, could he do it? He did not know, but the stakes were too high not to find out. To be this close to ending this evil episode . . . He had to know if he had the chance and whether he would take it.

The handle felt cold on his palm. He tightened his fingers around it, trying not to rattle the hardware. He turned it and envisioned Declan on the other side watching it turn. Then it turned no more. The door was locked. He did not know for certain that Declan occupied the room on the other side; even if he did know, he would not have kicked the door open, not with Dillon here. He turned the door handle back into position and released it. He had his answer: the opportunity was not his to take. Not yet anyway. He moved into the vestibule, cocking his head to catch Dillon in his peripheral vision.

The chained doors opposite the front entrance seemed hideous to him, like the gangplank of a slave ship or the holding pens of Rome's ancient coliseum. At that moment, he gladly would have traded the Hummer key for one that fit those locks. But that was not the hand dealt him. The best he could hope for was to fight for these people another day. The same frustration and hope etched lines in Dillon's young face. Hutch set his jaw and offered the boy a firm nod. He would come back. If God allowed him to, he would come back.

They padded to the closest set of double-entry doors. Push bars opened them.Wanting to take more care than he could have with one hand, and refusing to give up the readiness of his bow, he whispered to Dillon, “Go ahead.Very gently.”

Dillon seized the push bar with both hands and slowly pushed it down and in. The latch clicked out of its receptacle. The door angled open into the predawn blackness. A cold breeze blew in.

That's when the alarm bells sounded.

31

Declan vaulted out of his cot
fully alert. He had expected something like this: a breach. He assumed the townsfolk had found a way to open an auditorium door. Declan's intel had informed him that the auditorium itself had been wired into the building's alarm system to attract antique, art, and gun shows to the town. It was one of the reasons they had chosen this building, though its size alone made it the most logical venue. If not an auditorium door, then an external door had opened. Considering the hunters' bold approach and assault on Bad the night before, it would not have surprised him to find that they were the source of his disrupted sleep.

He unlocked and opened his room's door. Another door clanked shut; he recognized it as one of the front entrances. Kyrill came out of his room to Declan's right, Pruitt to his left.

“Julie,” Declan called. “Get out here.You too, Bad. Don't pretend you can't walk.”

He quickly scanned the vestibule. No immediate threat. He rushed to an entry door and pushed through. The Hummer squealed away from the curb and banked left onto the first side street. He turned around to face his crew. Kyrill and Pruitt at the door, Cort just coming out. Behind them, Julian shuffled slowly, his hand on his head, looking pale, tired, and in dire need of a couple of Percocet.

Declan showed them his palms. “Who had the car keys?”

No one fessed up. He pushed through them and headed for his room.

“All I have to say,” he called, “is it's a good thing
one of us
had the foresight to keep a couple town vehicles for our own use.” At the archway to the corridor, he turned. “Someone turn that alarm off!”

Bad hobbled toward a wall-mounted keypad.

“All right,” Declan said, checking his watch. “We'll be online pretty soon. We can use the cameras to find them.” His dead eyes panned the group. In a tone of perfect boredom, he said, “Let's go get them.” Then he called over his shoulder. “Bad, you better be in the car when I get there, or you're going to walk home.”

Laura woke to the alarm clock,s
waa-waa-waa
. She came out of a dream as a pearl diver rises from the pressure and darkness of deep water to finally break surface. Groggy, she tried to distinguish her waking life from sleep. Grief returned to her, and she remembered that Tom's loss had not been imagined. Then an urgency washed over the grief, and she remembered Dillon. She sat up in bed, and everything came back.

She hadn't set a clock, and it wasn't a clock that woke her. She threw back the covers and leaped over Terry on the floor. He was starting to stir.

At the window she pushed back a drape. Directly across the street was the community center. The sound emanated from that building. The front doors were shut and nothing appeared amiss, as long as you ignored the smoking building next to it and didn't know that an entire town's population was being held against its will inside.

Movement snagged her attention. A figure ran around the rear of the Hummer, which had been parked in the street in front of the center. She recognized Hutch, the man who had been with her son. She slapped her palm repeatedly against the pane.

“Hey! Hey! Wait!”

He climbed into the driver's seat and shut the door. Frantically she looked around for something to shatter the glass. She grabbed a lamp from a dresser and yanked its cord out of the wall. She reeled back to hurl it through the window when she saw the door across the street open. Declan stepped out, and the Hummer squealed away. She dropped the lamp.

“What's going on?”Terry said, peering over the bed.

She kept her eyes on Declan as he turned to face a gathering crowd in the doorway. She was four feet from the window in a dark room. No way anyone over there could see her.

“What?”Terry repeated.

“Just a sec.”

Declan reentered the building. His flunkies followed. The door swung shut.

Laura turned. “Your friend just drove off in the Hummer.”

“Who?”

“Hutch!”

“In the Hummer?”

Laura sighed. She dropped into an overstuffed chair.These rooms above the town's florist and art gallery had been set up for use as a hotel, though they caught only the overflow from the two bed-andbreakfasts. The owner lived in an apartment behind the florist. Most likely he was now among the town's captive masses.

“You sure it was him?”Terry asked.

“Yes.” She did not know whether to be elated or depressed.

“Was Dillon with him?”

“That's just it, I don't know. I didn't see him, but Hutch ran around from the passenger side, as if he'd helped someone in. That's why I didn't see him at first.”

“Where did he go?”

“Up the street. I think he turned on Shatu' T'ine Way.”

Terry kicked his blankets off and used the bed to push himself up. “Was anyone after him?”

“Declan watched him leave.”

Terry's face skewed. “Like waving good-bye?”

“Like he didn't know he was leaving until he did, and by that time it was too late for Declan to do anything about it.”

Terry looked out the window. “Whose are those other cars?” he said. “Looks like a Jeep Cherokee and an old Bronco.”

Laura lowered her head into her hands. “They belong to some people in town, but I think Declan's using them.”

Terry sat on the arm of the chair. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Hutch would never, ever leave Dillon. I know that about him. He would die first. So we have to assume they're together.”

She looked up at him. Nothing but resolve on his face. He believed what he'd said.

“So now what?” he said.

She tried to make sense of the chaos in her head. “Hutch might try to make it to Fond-du-Lac or Black Lake, but Dillon knows that's slow going this time of year.”

“But still, another town.”

Laura shook her head. “I don't mean slow like a traffic jam. I mean slow like you can walk faster. And that's assuming you don't break an axle or completely slide or rattle right off the road.”

“How do you get supplies?”

“Everyone stocks up in the winter. Winter roads are smooth as concrete. Supply trucks drive right across the river. Floatplanes bring campers and fishermen once a week in the summer, twice a month this time of year, if that.”

“What if somebody gets injured or sick?”

“Dr. Jeffrey—”

“But he can't do everything. He doesn't have all the things a hospital emergency room would have.”

“He's better equipped than most small-town docs because of the isolation. Besides, Black Lake has a hospital.”

“That's Black Lake.You just said it may as well be the moon.”

She stood up. “Let's go get your friend and my son.”

“But where? If Dillon talks Hutch out of heading to one of the neighboring towns, where will they end up?”

“Dillon, Tom, and I—we have a cabin. It was my father's. Dillon will try to convince Hutch to take him there.”

“I don't know if Hutch . . .”

Laura smiled. “Dillon can be very persuasive.”

32

“
We need to head north.
” Dillon was standing on the floor in front of the passenger seat. He swayed like a drunken sailor as the Hummer bumped over deep potholes and boulders, invisible in the darkness. Hutch was starting to think they'd make better time pushing the vehicle.

The heater howled with hot breath, but it was losing its battle with the chilly wind that came through the glassless window in the door behind Dillon.

Bracing himself, Dillon leaned over the wide center console. He looked Hutch square in the face. “We
need
to turn.”

“What we need to do,” Hutch said, trying to avoid Dillon's big, pleading eyes, quivering bottom lip, and about-to-cry whine, “is get help, and that means getting to another town.”

“My dad says you can't get to Black Lake now. In a month or two the mud will freeze over, and then you can.”

“With all respect to your dad, Dillon, we don't really have a couple of months.”

Dillon's face dropped. He sat in the passenger seat, which just about swallowed him.

Hutch glanced over. “I'm trying to help us,” he explained.

“My dad's dead,” Dillon said.

“I'm sorry.When?”

“Two days ago.”

Hutch braked to a stop, which wasn't much slower than they'd been moving anyway. He put the transmission in park and turned in his seat to face Dillon. “What?” he said.

Dillon stared down into the footwell. “Two days ago. Those men killed him. There was like . . . thunder . . . an explosion.”

Hutch felt as though someone had punched him in the gut, again and again. He ached. The revelations of grief and pain just never stopped. He had thought it was really something that Dillon's mother had survived the explosion outside the back door of the rec center, and he had thought it was really something that he and Dillon had escaped the heart of Declan's lair. But Dillon had already suffered a catastrophic tragedy. It wasn't that those other things didn't count now, but it was like feeling elated at rescuing a man lost at sea, only to find that his legs had been bitten off by sharks.

“Dillon.” He reached over and touched his hair. “I am so sorry. I am not going to let those people hurt you anymore.You or your mom. If I can, I'll see that they pay for what they did to your dad.” He wondered what he would have done if he had had this information when he had his arrow pointed at Pruitt and then at Bad. He thought it would be a different world now, without Pruitt, without Bad, without Declan—or without him and without Dillon.

Hutch peered through the windshield.They had been driving with the headlamps off in an effort to keep Declan's eye in the sky from spotting the Hummer.

He didn't know what kind of technology was involved, whether whatever was up there had night-vision optics or infrared; all he could do were the things that made sense to him given his admittedly limited knowledge of what they were up against. As much as it seemed that Declan's resources made him omniscient and omnipotent, that really wasn't the case. If it were, he and Dillon would not be alive.Terry and Laura would not have survived Declan's last blast.

Hutch had escaped from them in the woods and again when David was murdered, thanks only to Terry's relatively insignificant pistol.True to what Hutch knew about life, Declan's powers seemed wildly inconsistent. Here was a man who could take over a town and imprison more than two hundred people, but in the course of pursuing four men, he'd succeeded in getting only one of them. One was enough, but it said something about the limits of his power.