The Portal ~ Large Print (20 page)

V
ivian walked down
the front steps of St. Patrick’s Church. Beams of sunlight carried the scent of churros. She glanced down at the thing pretending to be her son and shivered. One touch. That’s all it had taken for Mister Vincent to murder four people. Father Adrian’s heavy breathing as he cut that woman open…as he cut into himself. Erika’s ranting just before she jumped from the hospital window.

Cody needed to be isolated from the population. At least until she could figure out a way to remove Mister Vincent. How could she get him out of the city though? The car’s trunk. It was the only way to make sure that he didn’t touch her. The thought of locking her baby in cramped darkness sickened her. No, it wasn’t Cody. Not anymore. And it had to be done. Once they got back to Torres’s car, she’d make her move.

Directly ahead, Cody stepped off the curb into the road. She leapt forward and yanked him back. A Harley roared by.

“What are you doing?” she shouted. “You’re going to get my son killed.”

“Take me over there.” He pointed across the street.

Looking up, she saw an elderly woman crying in the arms of a teenager. A crowd formed around them. Some of the people talked on cell phones. Other survivors of Father Adrian’s attack waved at her and Cody to come across the street with them.

“Haven’t you done enough?” she asked.

In the distance, a live music band began playing. Cheers and laughter wavered in and out on the wind. Behind the group of parishioners, a red haired girl chased a balloon over a grassy hill. Beyond that, the city park seemed to be filled to capacity with families.

“My date with Charlotte has been put on hold.” Cody looked up at her. “It’s time we got started.”

“We can’t.” Somehow, she had to get him back to Torres’s car. “Stromsky’s still out there. If you start now, he’ll know where to find us.”

“Mr. Kevin Stromsky killed forty-three people in his entire life. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not impressed.”

“What about the police? They’ll be here soon.”

“Whose fault is that?” he snapped at her. “You’ve tipped my hand. Charlotte will be expecting me now. If Mr. Stromsky kills your boy, at least you’ll know who to blame.”

“No.” Her voice quivered. “You won’t let that happen.”

“No, I won’t, if you do as you’re told.” He reached for her hand. “This is your last chance.”

This was it. That monster wasn’t going to use her baby anymore. She snatched his long sleeves, careful to avoid his hands.

“Get off me.” He gritted his teeth. For a second, she could almost see Mister Vincent’s true face. “Last warning.”

“I won’t let you do this,” she said.

Brakes squealed. She looked up as a police car stopped beside them. The crowd of parishioners swarmed around it. If they arrested her now, nothing would stand in Mister Vincent’s way. She clamped his wrists together with one hand, picked him up around his waist, and hurried down the sidewalk. A car door slammed behind her.

“Help me,” the voice inside Cody screeched. “She’s a stranger.”

“Wait,” a man shouted from behind. She dodged pedestrians and picked up her pace. “The woman carrying the child, I said hold up.”

Vivian glanced back. A squat, barrel-chested officer raced down the sidewalk after her. People jumped from his path. There was no way to outrun him like this. She turned to face him. His hand rested on what looked like a Taser gun in his belt.

“Don’t you aim that thing near my son.” She stepped back.

“Quit running,” he said. “I just want to talk.”

All around, people parted from them.

“She’s a stranger.” Cody struggled in her arms.

“Put the child down. Get on the ground.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “He’s autistic.”

“Now.” The officer pulled out his Taser.

Cody yanked his arm free and reached for her face. She dropped him. Immediately, he darted into traffic. Tires shrieked. An SUV slid just short of him. She raced across the street after him. The officer grabbed her sweater and yanked her back. She struggled to break free, but he bear-hugged her.

“What the hell’s going on?” A female officer ran up.

“I’ve got this,” he said. “Just grab the kid. He’s right there.”

“No.” Vivian looked at her. “Don’t touch him. He’s infected with something.”

“Shut up.” A rough hand pinched her neck, shoved her over to the sidewalk, and forced her down to the ground. “Don’t struggle. It will only make this worse.”

“Listen to me,” she shouted with her face against the concrete. The female officer approached Cody. “Whatever you do, don’t touch him.”

“I said shut your mouth.” The man on Vivian’s back yanked her arm. Pain exploded in her shoulder. The rattle of a steel cuff bit into her wrist.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the female officer approach Cody. They were maybe ten feet way.

“Please help me find my real Mommy.” He looked back at Vivian. The son of a bitch winked, and then turned back to the officer. “I miss her.”

Then he touched the woman’s wrist. She jerked her hand back.

“Dammit,” Vivian shouted at the man on her back. “It’s starting. We have to stop him.”

The monster pretending to be her son looked at her. He touched a man who stood next to the female officer. Then a teenage girl behind him. And another. And another. Again, until he disappeared into the crowded park.

***

C
ody was terrified
of the muddy road he walked down. Above, bone pinchers flew and chewed and clicked their teeth, but they didn’t try to eat him. Was he going the right way? Mommy’s voice always came from down here, but he hadn’t heard her since he left. She had to be here somewhere.

“Dammit.” Mommy’s voice sounded like it came from everywhere. “It’s starting. We have to stop him.”

“Don’t leave me here,” he shouted. “I want to go home.”

“Cody,” somebody whispered next to him. “Don’t leave us.”

He spun around. A bone pincher flew in front of his eyes. For a second, he saw a flash of yellow on the side of the road. Little Girl’s Dress. Cody turned and ran for the Dead Tree.

T
he crowd in
the park began to throb. With her chin mashed to the sidewalk, Vivian struggled to break free of the officer on her back. Somehow, she had to make this cop understand the danger that the city was in.

“Listen to me.” Her lungs felt crushed under his weight. “I have to get to get my son. He’s sick.”

“Save it.” He released her and grabbed her free wrist. “If you’re telling the truth, they’ll sort it out down at the station.”

“It’ll be too late, then.”

Ten feet away, his partner dropped to her knees. One after another, members of the crowd fell as well. She couldn’t see Cody anywhere.

“My son is sick,” she shouted at him. “All of these people are in danger.”

“Jenson is getting him now.”

“Are you blind?” Vivian shouted. “Look.”

His partner grabbed handfuls of her own hair. She yanked downward until strands tore free. Several gasps came from the crowd. Others cheered. Too many others. It had been less than thirty seconds. How many of these people had Mister Vincent infected?

“What the fuck.” The officer on her back stood. He handcuffed Vivian to a park bench’s iron frame. She could finally breathe again. “Jenson,” he yelled at his partner. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not listening,” Vivian said. “If we don’t find my son, this is going to get worse.”

A biker in a leather jacket stepped from the crowd. She’d seen Cody touch that man a few moments before.

“Get up you pig fuck,” he shouted at the female officer, who remained on her knees with a confused look on her face.

The biker threw what looked like an unopened soda can. It smacked her eyebrow, dropped to the sidewalk, and hissed as it sprayed out. Blood poured down her face and over her lips, but she didn’t cry out or even react. Instead, she tried to hand him the tufts of her own hair as he approached.

“Freeze motherfucker.” The officer next to Vivian pulled his weapon. Calmly, the biker took Jenson’s gun from her belt. “Don’t fucking move or—”

The biker shot her in the face. Her body flung backward. Gunshots and screaming everywhere. Vivian kicked to the edge of the sidewalk to avoid the stampeding crowd. More gunfire. Glancing back, she saw the officer chase after the killer down the street.

A heavyset woman looked directly at Vivian. She held a hand over her mouth as if to control a giggle. Then she stepped into traffic. A Cal-Trans work truck didn’t have time to brake. It smacked her. Instantly, she folded under the grill. The truck bounced over her body and screeched to a halt.

Hundreds of voices began crying and shrieking, but the laughter was worst of all. And her baby was out there somewhere.

She pulled on her handcuffs, but it was useless. The police would lock her up on sight. Detective Torres might not though. He
had
seen Jarod change. And he might be able to reason with San Francisco PD.

To her left, an elderly woman pulled out a lighter and hobbled to the middle of the street. She began burning the body of the woman under the truck.

Vivian crawled behind a trashcan. She managed to pull her cell phone from her back pocket. Careful not to draw any attention, she dialed Torres’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”

“San Francisco,” she said quietly. “Mission Street. Across from Saint Patrick’s Church. Please, I need you to send somebody to help me.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“You’re in San Francisco already?” That didn’t make sense. When she’d left him, they’d been in Santa Barbara. Had he been following her?

“Five minutes.” He hung up.

***

A
ll around Vivian,
the people had thinned out. Traffic had stopped completely. The car’s drivers were all gone. From where she hid, only four bodies were in view, but she could hear screaming everywhere. Torres needed to hurry. The building’s shadows had grown longer. It would be night soon.

Finally, he raced from the park with his gun drawn.

“Thank God.” With her arm cuffed, she awkwardly tried to stand.

“You’re real damn lucky that my car has Lo-Jack.”

“We have to get Cody. He’s out there.”

“Shut up.” He unlocked her cuff and pulled her to the police car still parked in the street. “You knew this was going to happen. I saw it on your face this morning.”

“Cody just went through the park. We’ve got to find him.”

“I just came through. He’s not there.”

“Please, just listen—”

“No,” he said. “You sold your last goddamn wolf ticket when you stole my car this morning.”

“I ran from you because you were in danger.”

“I was in danger,” he said. “Right.”

“I couldn’t talk. If you knew too much, you’d be dead right now.”

“Have you even seen what’s going on out there?” he shouted. “It’s a fucking nightmare. You knew this was coming, and you didn’t even warn these people.”

His words stopped her. He was right. There were no excuses.

“It’s almost dark.” She fought back her tears. No matter how she’d failed him, Cody was innocent and good. He didn’t deserve to be left with Mister Vincent’s diseased children. “My baby’s out there. He’s all alone.”

Torres stared into the park for a second. Somebody screeched over the chorus of car alarms. The voice didn’t even sound human.

“I’ll put out an Amber Alert,” he finally said. “But in this mess, I’m not making any promises.”

“No.” She shook her head. “We have to find him ourselves.”

“You’re not making sense.” He leaned into the car’s window and grabbed the radio. “We’ll have the entire city searching for him.”

What could she tell him? If he knew what Cody was, would he want to kill him? No. Through all of this, Torres had been pigheaded and rude, but he was a good man. And if she hoped to stop Mister Vincent, she’d need his help.

“We have to isolate Cody,” she said. “If you send those officers after him without warning them, they could get hurt.”

“Come again?” He lowered the radio.

“You saw Jarod last night.”

“Are you telling me that Cody is responsible for this?”

“Something is inside of him.”

“What is it?”

“He calls himself Mister Vincent,” she said. “He’s driving these people insane. All it takes is one touch.”

“I promise you.” He pointed in her face. “You’re going to answer for this.”

“Fine, send me away forever,” she said. “Just help me stop this.”

“We have to quarantine him.”

For once, they agreed.

Where would Mister Vincent go? Somewhere he could inflict the most damage. Fisherman’s Wharf? Golden Gate Park? The list of targets in the City was endless.

“Radio to dispatch,” he said into the CB. “I need an Amber Alert and a possible CDC quarantine on a four year old boy last seen on Mission Street.” He looked at Vivian. “Is he still wearing the same clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Spiderman shirt, jeans, and blue Nikes,” he told dispatch.

“Hold on,” the radio voice said. For a long moment, silence. “Did you say he’s wearing a Spidey shirt?”

Torres looked at her for verification. She nodded.

“Yeah,” he said.

“After the day we’ve had, finally some good news.”

“What do you mean?” Torres asked.

“Your kid,” the dispatcher said. “I think he just walked through the front doors.”

***

S
tromsky’s limo had
almost reached Mission Street when his cell phone vibrated. On the television, a ten second loop of Vivian and young Cody Carmichael played on CNN. They were standing in Saint Patrick’s Church. On the closed captioning, the anchor was describing the church’s priest as patient zero. What a mess. Technology made secrecy in his job nearly impossible these days. Still, the situation wasn’t beyond cleaning.

His phone buzzed again. He reached into his inner coat pocket and answered.

“Mrs. Carmichael on the line,” her assistant said. “Please hold.”

“Have you been watching the news?” she immediately said.

“I assure you, Charlotte, the situation is under control. I’ll be at the church shortly.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’m cutting off any ties from that side of the family.”

Clean the entire family before they can cause more damage to the Carmichael name. Cody included.

“I understand,” he said.

“I don’t think that you do.” Her voice carried a steely edge. “I’ve already sent two reporters from my doorstep tonight. Your services are no longer required.”

“I’ve protected the Carmichael family for many years now. Have I failed you yet? In twenty-four hours, this will be just a bad—”

“What you do is your own business, Mr. Stromsky,” she said. “Good day.”

She hung up.