Desolation (17 page)

Javier did nothing but scowl at her.

“Mrs Galloway, this is Javier,” said Virgil. “He’s a friend from back west.”

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Javier!” said Mrs Galloway, sticking in her arm in a bid to shake his hand. Virgil pressed himself back into the seat to avoid contact with her blouse. The smell of wildflowers and fruit filled his nostrils.

Javier, meanwhile, was glaring at the proffered hand, and keeping his own appendages to himself.

“I get it, I get it,” Mrs Galloway said, retracting her arm and chuckling. “I’m the same way! I carry hand cleanser in my purse, wherever I go. Never know what kind of germs you might be picking up, am I right? Heaven knows, a common cold could kill someone of your age.”

Javier opened his mouth to snap off what would no doubt be a hurtful retort, but Virgil got there first.

“Javier’s thinking of investing in some property in the area,” he said. “We were driving around and this house leaped out as something he might be interested in buying.”

Mrs Galloway frowned slightly. “This house? Is it for sale?”

“Well, no, but for the right price it could be.”

“I doubt it. Mr Moreno owns the hardware store, on Appletree Street? I doubt he’d want to move.”

“Well, maybe we’ll ask him,” said Virgil. “Though we’d appreciate it if you kept this between ourselves.”

“Oh, of course,” said Mrs Galloway, putting on her serious face. It vanished a moment later, replaced by a smile. “So what are your plans for Wednesday, Mr Abernathy?”

“Going to stay with my daughter,” Virgil said.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! And can I just say that I really admire your determination to remain independent when so many other elderly people just choose to wilt and die in old folks’ homes. You are a hero to me, Mr Abernathy, you truly are. I hope that when I am your age, if I’m lucky enough to reach it, I am capable of showing the same moral fortitude as you. I’m fed up to the back teeth of lazy people who live in old folks’ homes and do nothing but drain our great country’s resources and leech from the system.”

“I live in a retirement home,” said Javier.

“How wonderful for you!” Mrs Galloway trilled. “And do they treat you nicely there?”

“Nicer than out here, you miserable hag.”

Mrs Galloway’s face went slack, and Virgil winced at her apologetically and raised the window.

“I don’t like being patronised,” said Javier. “You have to deal with that kind of crap often?”

“Sometimes,” said Virgil.

“Naw, I couldn’t handle that,” said Javier. “At least everyone in the retirement home knows the score.”

“Is she still standing there?”

“Yep. Standing right beside your window.”

“Christ’s sake …”

“She’s no longer looking in, though.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“She’s walking away.”

Virgil watched her. A part of him wanted to reprimand Javier for the rudeness, but then he figured he didn’t care.

“Hey,” said Javier in a hushed voice, his eyes widening.

Oscar Moreno came out of his house, wearing a sweater vest and offering a big smile to a passing neighbour.

Javier stared at him. “It’s me. Holy shit, it’s me. You seeing this? That is me.”

“Told you,” said Virgil.

They watched him get in his car.

“But that doesn’t just look like me,” Javier said, “it
is
me. That’s me travelling in from the past!”

“I know. Duck down.”

They tried ducking but, much like the first time, all they could manage was to lean sideways slightly.

“Quick!” said Javier. “Follow him!”

“Why? It’s Tuesday morning. He’s probably just going to work.”

“Oh yeah.”

They waited until he was gone, and sat up.

“Jesus,” said Javier. “Now what? I mean … okay, I believe you, he’s my exact double. But now what do we do?”

“I have no idea,” said Virgil.

“You don’t know? You’re the one talking about murder mysteries and conspiracies and solving this crime and all that stuff … and you don’t know what to do?”

“This is new to me,” Virgil said defensively. “It’s taking some time to adjust to all of this going on. But I’m getting there.”

“How many cops are on the force? Surely they can’t all be in on it.”

“But how would we know which ones are and which ones aren’t? No, no – the authorities can’t help us. We have to keep an eye on them. Watch them. They’re in on this, so they could lead us to the next clue.”

“Next clue? What? What was the
first
clue? What are you
talking
about?”

“I’m just asking myself a question, Javier. A question we should both be asking.” Virgil paused dramatically. “What would the Shroud
do?”

Javier closed his eyes. “Oh,
Madre de Dios
, you’re going to get us both killed.”

A
MBER WAS BACK IN
that rest stop in Whitehorse, and she was pinned by a mountain of corpses while Elias Mauk used his hammer to break her fingers. Only this time all the corpses on top of her were Imelda, and it wasn’t Mauk with the hammer, it was Amber herself as a red-skinned, horned demon.

A song played. ‘Magic Moments’ by Perry Como. It had been used in the
Dark Places
finale, albeit ironically. Now it played in her dream, like a thin, scratchy record.

Her demon-self smiled as she brought the hammer down, and ugly old Amber screamed beneath the mountain of Imeldas. She tried to pull her hand back, but Glen was suddenly there, grabbing her wrist and holding it down. He didn’t say anything. He may have been moving, but he was as dead as Imelda.

The hammer came down one last time and Amber was allowed to pull her hand back. Screaming, she watched her fingers as they twisted and snapped like they were still being pummelled by an invisible hammer. Then the corpses were gone and she was sitting up in the booth, and the demon was gone and now
she
was the demon, and her parents sat opposite.

Her father opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was ‘Magic Moments’. He chuckled at something and Amber’s mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly and opened her mouth to respond. More Perry Como.

They picked up their knives and forks and Amber did the same, but her strong red hands were bandaged and weak, and she dropped her knife and it fell to the floor. The waitress came over. She was dressed like Brenda from Fast Danny’s, but was actually Kirsty. She looked tired and bored and worn down, with not a trace of her usual glamour. She set down a large tray covered with a silver dish. Her husband, Grant, stood at the door to the kitchen, wearing a chef’s hat. He looked proud. There was blood on his chin. Kirsty uncovered the meal – Amber’s ugly old head on a plate of lettuce and cold cuts.

Amber’s parents started eating immediately. Amber hesitated, then dug her fork into the cheek and pulled away a chunk of meat dripping with blood. She popped it into her mouth and chewed. She tried to ask Kirsty for some salt, but all that came out was that damn song. Then she woke.

She lay where she was for a while, the song still playing behind her thoughts. She heard Ronnie ask Kelly how she’d slept, and Kelly said it was better than the damn van.

Amber reverted to normal, then pushed herself up on one elbow, making sure to hide the rips her claws had made in the blanket.

“Good morning,” Kelly called over. “We’ve been told the Chief of Police himself is on his way to see us. We might be getting out.”

“Freedom at last,” Ronnie said, groaning as he stood. He stretched, arched his back. “Now begins the gradual assimilation back into society.”

“Ronnie uses big words,” said Kelly.

Amber smiled at them, then swung her legs out of bed and laced up her sneakers. Her fingers were practically back to normal. Milo was already awake, and sitting with his back against the wall like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

The door clicked and Amber stood. She shivered, and noticed Kelly hugging her bare arms to keep warm. She had an intricate tattoo sleeve all the way down to her left wrist. The sleeve on her right was a work in progress.

Chief Novak walked in, uniform as crisp as ever and his shoes as polished. Accompanied by a younger officer, he ignored Amber and Milo and focused instead on Kelly and Ronnie.

“Good day to you,” he said.

“Hi,” said Kelly.

“I’d welcome you to our town, but I believe my officers have already done that.”

“Yes, sir,” said Kelly. “That nice lady officer. Lucy, her name is?”

“I believe you are referring to Officer Thornton.”

“That’s right,” said Kelly. “Officer Thornton. She welcomed us as she was putting on the handcuffs.”

Novak nodded. “When you were arrested for the destruction of public property.”

“We’d prefer not to say anything about that,” Ronnie said, “until we speak to a lawyer.”

“Understandable,” said Novak. “But I don’t think we need to go that far, do you? In Desolation Hill we frown upon the frivolous waste of taxpayers’ money.”

“Does that mean we’re not being charged?” Kelly asked.

“It could,” said Novak. “But there’d be conditions.”

Ronnie glanced at Kelly. “Such as?”

“You’d have to pay for the box you wrecked to be replaced. I’d say for materials and time, it’ll come to forty dollars.”

“We can pay that.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Novak. “Second condition is that you leave town. Today. That one’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid. If you can’t agree to it, you’ll be brought up on charges.”

“No, no,” said Ronnie, “there’s no need for that. We’ll leave.”

Novak nodded. “Gone by midnight, then. In that case, Officer Ortmann here will sign you out. You can pay the fine at the desk.”

“Thank you for being so understanding, Chief,” Ronnie said as Ortmann unlocked the cells. They were led out, and Kelly waved at Amber as she went.

When they were gone, Novak turned to Amber and Milo. “The mayor is busy for most of the day,” he said. “He’ll see you when he’s done.”

Amber shifted. “You know about us,” she said, “about demons. We’re not here to cause any trouble, I swear. Those bikers on the edge of town, they’re the ones you have to worry about. They’ve been chasing us—”

Novak walked for the door.

“Hey,” said Amber. “Hey! We’re not your enemy here!”

Novak didn’t even glance back. “Anyone who’s not us,” he said, “is our enemy.”

An officer named Duncan brought them their breakfast, and Amber recognised Fast Danny’s bacon. Fragments of her dream came back to her, like eating part of her own face, but it didn’t put her off her food. All this fresh air was giving her an appetite.

They sat in silence for most of the morning – apart from asking the other to turn round while each of them used the toilet – and Amber started wishing that Kelly and Ronnie had stuck around. Even if she’d had to revert in their presence, it would have been worth it.

“I wish you were better at conversating with,” she said, taking the bandages from her hands.

Milo cracked one eye open from where he lay. “I’m sorry?”

“Talking,” said Amber. “I wish you were better at talking.”

He waited a few moments before responding. “Where’s this coming from?”

“We’ve been sitting here for three hours and you haven’t said one thing.”

“We’ve driven for days without speaking.”

“That’s different,” she said. She flexed her fingers. “That’s in the car. You could just listen to the engine and that’d be enough. You can look out the window and … I don’t know. Think, or whatever. In here it’s different. Silence means something in here.”

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know. Like we have nothing to say to each other.”

He sat up. “I see,” he said.

“Yeah, well …”

“There something in particular you want to talk about? Idle conversation is hard to come by when you’re in a situation like ours.”

“It doesn’t have to be idle. It can be … I don’t know. It can still be something. We can talk about something meaningful, can’t we? I’ve been having bad dreams.” She didn’t mean to say that. It just slipped out. “About my parents. And Imelda. Nightmares.”

“Hardly surprising,” Milo said.

“I’d just like to talk to someone about them.”

He frowned. “And you think I should be that person?”

“You are literally the only friend I have.”

“You’ve got online friends.”

“They don’t know about any of this stuff, are you nuts?”

“Okay. You want to talk,” said Milo, “we’ll talk.”

She sighed. “Never mind.”

“Tell me about the nightmares.”

“I just did.”

He looked puzzled, and actually scratched his head. “I’m sorry, Amber, I’m really not getting what it is you want here.”

“Never mind, okay? It’s fine.”

He stood up, walked to the bars, and looked at her. “Then do you want to talk about last night? About Glen?”

She didn’t answer.

“Do you know why he’s still coming after you? Did he say anything?”

“Nothing,” Amber said. “Not a word.”

“Do you think he wants to hurt you?”

“No. I mean, maybe, because of what he is … but no, I don’t think so.”