The Meridians (40 page)

43.

***

"Stop!" Scott shouted.

Tina's father paid him no heed. Scott might as well have been speaking to a deaf-mute for all the response he got. The man continued his charge, and Scott barely managed to jump around the doorjamb and out into the hallway again before the man waved his knife through the air where Scott's stomach had been just moments before.

Scott felt his guts clench. He had a knife himself - a bigger one - but he didn't know if he had the courage or will to engage in a knife fight. He knew that knife fights almost always ended with both parties in a hospital, if not a morgue, and he had no desire to find himself in such a place - or to put Tina's father there.

"Save my family" she had said. The words took on a new and ominous meaning. Scott had assumed that she was imploring him to protect her family from some intruder, some beast that had entered their house and taken her captive. But now he knew the truth: he had to save her family...from itself. From the madness that had crept in more silently than any sneak-thief ever could, from the insanity that had gripped her father in its iron fingers and squeezed him until he could no longer stand the pressure; until he fused with the grip and became madness himself.

The knife that Tina's father wielded swung to the right, following Scott like a living being, a beast that thirsted for his blood. Scott again moved out of the way with only millimeters to spare, and the knife bit deeply into the wood of the doorjamb. Tina's father looked strangely surprised at the fact, as though it had never occurred to him that the wall was real.

Scott wheeled back, and found himself smashing backward through the half-open door into Tina's room. He looked around for some way to end this conflict before it resulted in loss of life to either him or to the little girl's father. He saw only one thing: the small chair that sat in front of the little girl's vanity. It was clearly hand-made, solid wood construction, the kind of thing a loving and kind father might have made - before that person disappeared into whatever it was that was now chasing Scott. It would be unruly, but not so bulky as to render it useless as a club. And it had the advantage of not being a bladed weapon that would result in critical injury or death. Scott could use it with clearer conscience than he could the knife he currently held.

He swung around and scooped up the chair, then wheeled back to face the open doorway to the room just as Tina's father came through it, eyes wild and knife leading like a single-toothed viper. The man swung the knife at Scott, who just barely managed to bat it away with the chair. He felt a satisfying thud as the chair connected, the feeling reassuring him that he had been correct as to its solid construction, and Tina's father howled. The sound was bestial, an animal cry of pain totally bereft of all humanity or capacity for rational thought. It chilled Scott, making his gut clench and at the same time making his insides feel watery and loose. He worried that he might actually lose control of his bowels because of the intensity of the sound that now assailed him like a sonic jackhammer - not just an inconvenience or embarrassment, but possibly a fatal problem should it slow him down or make his movements in any way more difficult.

But no. He managed to control himself. He gritted his teeth and again swung the chair as Tina's father once more attacked him. This time the knife managed to penetrate his defense, and he felt the blade sink an inch into his stomach. Luckily for Scott, it only punched into the thick pad of gristle and scar tissue that still remained from his gutshot by Mr. Gray eight years ago. The knife twisted in his stomach as it bounced off the rock hard tissue, and he screamed in pain as old nerves ignited in flame and agony for the first time in years. But even as he screamed, he could feel that the blade had done little damage. The scars he had earned on the day his family died had saved him.

Tina's father yanked the blade loose, and Scott screamed again as the blade left his body. But again, even in his agony he could tell that any damage was minor, though the pain remained frighteningly intense.

Scott reared back as Tina's father withdrew the knife, using the momentary pause in the man's attack to bring the chair around in a short arc that ended on the side of the other man's head. Even in his agony, he tried to avoid hitting the man's temple. The human skull is only a twelfth of an inch thick in that area, and he had no desire to end the battle by fracturing his attacker's skull and causing brain damage. He hoped to end this fight with incapacity, not maiming or death. He didn't want to face Tina as her father's killer.

His aim was true, and he felt another satisfying thud as the chair fetched up against the back of Tina's father's head. The man reeled, stunned for a moment, and Scott went on the offensive. He batted the chair again, this time aiming for the other man's knife hand in the hopes of breaking it and disarming him in one move. But the madman was too fast, twisting aside and moving his hand away at the last second, and the chair glanced off his hip. He howled in pain, but clearly was not more than inconvenienced by the hit.

Unfortunately, Scott was more than inconvenienced as the chair broke in his hands. Solid construction notwithstanding, there was only so much punishment that a child's chair could take before becoming nothing more than kindling. He was left holding a single long piece of wood with a shattered crosspiece attached to it. Still an effective enough club, but no longer nearly as useful as a shield or defensive weapon.

Scott pulled back at the same time as Tina's father again swiped the knife at him, but moved too slowly. The knife again slashed at his stomach, again ground against the scars of old wounds. Scott felt almost as though history was guiding the knife, trying to finish the job that Mr. Gray had begun, trying to reopen the wounds of the past and finish the job that had been started in the alley all those years ago.

Scott howled and struck with his makeshift club, but was far too slow. Tina's father danced out of range with a convulsive movement. The man giggled, a high-pitched, almost childlike sound that chilled Scott to the quick. It was far worse than the howling, animal sounds the man had been making until now, because it showed the depths of the man's insanity in a way that those noises had failed to do. Scott suddenly had the feeling that this battle could
only
end in the death of one or both of them.

Following his instincts, he punched out with his other hand, and the almost-forgotten knife he had been holding in that hand managed to penetrate Tina's father's own defenses, ripping a shallow furrow in the man's chest and grinding against his ribcage with a bounce that pulled the knife from Scott's hands.

The other man could have ended the fight then, could have stabbed Scott in the chest in a more fatal blow that would have resolved the struggle in his permanent favor. But rather than reply to Scott's blow with one of his own, he screamed again and threw himself against the nearby wall as he had been doing when Scott had entered the master bedroom. It was as though the man was punishing himself for killing his wife, for hogtieing his child.

Whatever the reason for the movement, it gave Scott precious seconds to move out of knife range, pulling back with the makeshift club in one hand.

And then, without warning, the other man did something completely unexpected.

***

44.

***

Lynette looked around for the source of the voice she had just heard. Mr. Gray was near, she knew. The voice had sounded like it was coming from in the car with them. But there was no one here but Kevin, who was once again typing furiously at his computer. Still, though he might have seemed unaffected to the untrained eye, she could tell he was terrified by the shaking of his hands and the fact that he was typing with his eyes screwed tightly shut.

"Little lady and her boy. Little bitch and her brat." Again, the voice seemed to come from somewhere in the car, from somewhere right beside her. She thought about running, but decided that running before she knew where the sound was coming from would be futile. What if she ran
to
it instead of away from it?

There was a rushing sound in her ears. She thought it was water at first, the sound like a stream scouring through a forest floor. Then she realized that it was the sound of blood rushing to her ears, the sound of her own pulse blasting powerfully through her mind. She realized what was happening: this was the same feeling she had had before, when the gray man appeared on the day Robbie died. And now she
did
run. She grabbed Kevin from off the seat and pulled him to her, then fumbled for the door handle. But before she could reach it, the locks engaged.

"Ah, ah, ah," said the voice. The voice of Mr. Gray. It was a whisper, sounding quietly, almost gently, in her ear.

She looked over, and screamed.

He was here.

***

45.

***

Scott gaped as Tina's father suddenly turned on his heel...and ran.

At first, Scott couldn't even process what was happening. Then he realized.

Tina!

The madman was running toward the stairs, away from the tougher prey that Scott represented and toward the much easier form of his daughter, still tied and alone downstairs. And still counting on Scott to save her; to save her family. He knew beyond a doubt that the latter was beyond his power. Even if by some miracle everyone still alive made it through the rest of this night, there was no way that the authorities would let Tina's father stay with her, or even probably see her again for a long, long time. But the former - saving the little girl herself - was still in Scott's power. Or at least, it was in his power to try.

So Scott ran as well. He ran after Tina's father, who was barreling down the short hallway, and now taking the stairs down two and three at a time.

Scott hurled himself at the madman. He somehow sensed that the stairs were the gate through which Tina's death lay. If her father made it down the steps, Scott knew that he would - somehow - also make it to the little girl.

And end her.

The image was almost prescient, as though this world and some future world where the little girl died were pressing against one another, the veil that usually separated them unusually thin in this moment and allowing Scott to glimpse through it. He could see her father, making it down the stairs ahead of him, fighting Scott off in the living room, killing Scott right in front of Tina, right in front of his own daughter, then going to her, tenderly slipping the knife home....

"No!" Scott roared. He reached out as he threw himself forward, retaining the piece of the child's chair he still held in one hand, and with the other hand managed to snag a piece of Tina's father's shirt. The man roared back, and now there were no men on the stairs, only two animals fighting for life and death, battling for the existence of the child who lay powerless below them.

Tina's father slashed behind himself with the knife he still held, but this time Scott moved aside before the blade could pierce him. He caught it on the backswing, slamming into the man's wrist with the piece of broken wood in his hand. Tina's father howled, but somehow retained a grip on the knife, rearing back again and slashing once more with his knife, a lightning quick slice that missed Scott's throat by millimeters, it seemed.

Scott waited for the inevitable backhand cut, stepping outside of range as it came, almost slipping on the steps beneath him, then he stepped inside the man's moving arm, blocking it with an upraised hand and rapping the man on the head with the chair piece in his hand.

Tina's father jerked back, stunned by the force of the sudden blow, blinking as he was rocked by the hit. His foot came down behind him, only there was no floor to catch him there, only gravity, only the feel of air below him. He plummeted backward with a cry, but before he completely fell, he grabbed Scott's collar with a hand strengthened by rage and madness.

Scott felt his head snap backward as the force of the pull nearly gave him whiplash. Then he slammed face-first into the man's chest. But instead of resisting he had the wit to simply ride the man down like some kind of twisting, screaming surfboard, both of them riding the wave of madness that had somehow come to visit this home and had engulfed so much of it.

Tina's father hit the stairs headfirst, with all of Scott's weight on top of his own. There was a crack - it sounded like one or more of the man's ribs broke - and then a dull thud as he cracked his head on the stairs.

Then he was silent. Unmoving.

Scott would have suspected a trick of some kind, but he knew that the madness in the man's mind must have cast out the capacity for such rational and far-seeing strategy. No, all that was left for the man was death and killing. Still, Scott didn't move, laying on the man for a long moment before finally rolling off him onto the stairs with a groan.

The fight was over. The whole thing had probably only lasted ten or twenty seconds. But to Scott it seemed as though he had spent a year or more at hard labor. Every bone and muscle ached, his mind sang as though rather than being involved in brute force he had been working on Kevin's string theory writings once more.