The Shore (22 page)

“What rules?” The trembling in her shoulders grew uncontrollable. “Know what about him?”

Within the heater, flame pulsed softly. As the chill closed in, he sat on a crate, his shadow mountainous on the wall. “He always told us that. Draw the curtains. Don’t scream so loud. Don’t talk to the neighbors. Don’t talk to anyone. Ever. Always been like that. And it worked well. When his family came here from the barrens, they were laborers. Now we own the town.” After a pause, he added, “What’s left of it.”

I’ve got to hold on.
Her jaw clenched against nausea as the liquid floor gushed again, and in her vision the freezing room broke into pieces, buzzing like angry flies.

His voice hissed faintly. “…consider the possibility that I may really be quite insane after all. Wouldn’t that be quite a joke?”

“What…?” She coughed, pain rattling in her chest. “What brought you back to Edgeharbor?”

His chest heaved as he turned to her.

She held his stare, desperate to delay whatever action she sensed he was working himself toward. “I mean, why now?”

“The papers. We do get newspapers, you know, even in lunatic asylums. So sorry. Mental health facilities. It’s the one truly great curse of late-twentieth-century man—we know everything that happens and have no idea what any of it means. But when I saw that the killings had begun, I understood.” His voice rose in outrage. “My brother had taken my place. Besides…he’s too pretty, don’t you think? Too much like her.”

“Who? Who is he like?”

Silence swelled, filling the shack.

“Your mother?” She watched tension bulge beneath his fleshy jaw. “The girl, your sister,” she spoke quickly. “She looks sick. She needs…”

His face moved with an oblique shifting of shadowed eyes: the sleeping girl’s breasts rose and fell. “You think my mother was good, don’t you?”

“I…you…”

His gaze sliced at Kit like a razor. “Everyone did.” From his temples to his bulging throat, the sheen of perspiration formed rivulets. “But she never tried to stop him.” Sweat beaded his chin. “Do you know what she told me? She told me to pray for strength. And the things he did—she called them punishment.” Grunting, he gulped air. “But for what? My fault. Mine. Ugly me.” His fist thumped against his chest. “The things he made us do.” Then he rubbed his hands together with a dry rasp. “Nothing unique, of course. Quite banal, I’m afraid. I often read about people like him in the hospital library. Not at first, of course, but later, when they trusted me.” He made a laughing clack in his throat. “Sometimes, he used to make me watch. When she was just little. And then after, right in front of her, he’d make me…” The bone-dry chuckle obliterated his words. “Such a close family.” He slammed a big fist into a thick palm. “And—after all that—Perry gets her?”

“You wanted to help her get away from him? I could tell them that. You were just trying to help her. They won’t…”

“I’m here now.” His voice rasped with purpose. “And I’ll take Stella away with me. Would you like that, my angel? To finally get away from Edgeharbor?”

Kit peered toward the darkest corner of the room.
This can’t be happening.
Agony throbbed in her head.
It’s not real.
Fear made her thoughts grow vague. She heard his voice raging on, but the words tumbled faintly into one another, dissipating like a spent wave.

“…after I’ve killed them all. Then we’ll be happy. You’ll see.”

The boy crashed against the door.

“Look at it!” Steve grabbed him by his shirt. “Look at it, I said!” He shook him hard.

Bullet holes marred the heavy wood of the door. Long scrapes ran along the frame, the knob, the lock, and the safety glass had been cracked and chipped till only wires held the sections together.

“It was you he wanted!” He shoved the boy’s face against the wood. “Now tell me! Tell me where he’s got her!”

“I don’t know. Don’t hit me.” Trying to push his face from the jagged glass, Perry gulped air. Blood branched slowly from his nose to his chin.

“Tell me!” Sputtering with rage, he hauled the boy back by the collar. “Or I’ll cuff your hands behind you and toss you outside. How far do you think you’ll get before your brother finds you? You think I won’t do it?”

The sobs raked up from deep within him. “Stell…”

His hands circled the back of the boy’s neck, and strong fingers clamped down, tightening. “Tell me!” The bones felt fragile and sharp.

Beneath the pressure, Perry bent forward until his head pointed at the floor. “I’m sorry.” He choked out the words.

Steve took his hands away, and the boy sank to the concrete. Steve watched his own fingers clench and unclench; then he moved to the window and stared out at the night. Behind him, he heard the boy whimper on the floor, and his fingers dug into the grill over the window.
Killer.
Moisture glimmered on the glass.
Monster.
Wires cut into his flesh, and he felt the sting of blood.
Oh, Kit.
His first gulping sob emerged before he could force it down.

“There’s one place.”

He whirled around at the sound of shuffling movement.

The boy spoke in short gasps. “One place he might be.”

“Please, you have to help me.”

On a filthy cot by the heap of moldy newspapers, the girl lay unresponsive, almost inert. Again the shack rocked, one wall shivering violently as muddy water slid across the floor. The girl’s head lolled, and white crescents flickered beneath her parting eyelids.

“Get up!” Kit shouted hoarsely. “Before he comes back. Listen to me. You have to help me. You have to get up! He’ll kill us both. Do you hear me?”

The girl’s head jerked, her gaze glittering like broken glass, and the fingers of her left hand jerked. “Perry…he’ll get me again…no, please…don’t let him.” A rusty edge grated in her voice, as though she were unused to speaking aloud.

Kit’s thoughts raced. Clearly, the girl’s mind had broken—it was as though she had no will to move. “Perry’s gone!” She shouted again. “Are you listening to me? It’s Ramsey we have to worry about now. You have to stand up.”

“He’ll hurt me.” One white hand floated up to cover her face.

“No! Stay with me! Keep looking at me. I can protect you from Ramsey. I’m a police officer. Do you understand me? Listen to me—if you’ll untie me, I’ll take care of…”

Softly, the girl began to weep. “I love Ramsey.”

“Yes.” Kit dropped her voice to a gentle murmur. “Of course you do. He’s your brother. But he’s sick. You know he’s sick. He hurts people. We have to get help for him. You understand? Before he hurts you.”

“You won’t let Perry hit me?”

“It’s Ramsey…you know he’ll do something bad to you when he comes back. And to me too. You don’t want that to happen, do you? Look at me. I’m your friend, Stella. The only reason I’m here is to help you. You don’t want Ramsey to hurt me, do you? Well, then you have to get up now. Do you hurt anywhere? Can you walk? Did he give you something? Make you take something?” Shock waves coruscated through her body. It was hopeless. God only knew what the girl had been through, and she might well be drugged. Despairingly, Kit strained against the ropes that scored her wrists. Slow movement across the room caught her attention.

The girl wobbled to her feet with a strange fluidity. She seemed faintly puzzled as she watched her own arms and legs, and each slow gesture—the trailing of a fingertip to her face, the listening tilt of her head—melted into a profound lassitude that suffused her. “…don’t know what…” As she tottered into the light, her shoulders slumped.

“No, don’t collapse! Stay on your feet. Look at me! Here! Come around behind me.” A trickle of hope began to course through her. “Get me out of this. Quick!”

The girl’s manner still seemed dreamlike, but she stumbled closer. “I know this place.”

“Hurry!”

“He hurt you, didn’t he?” She staggered. “Your head’s bleeding. All red in your hair. Pretty. Where’s Perry?”

“Thank you.” She swallowed. “You’re pretty too.” Fighting panic, she forced something like a smile onto her face. Perhaps the girl had been driven as mad as her brothers, or perhaps she was in some kind of shock. When she spoke again, it was as though to a small child. “The ropes. You have to…”

“Do you have boyfriends?”

“What? Sure. Why not?” She repressed a hysterical laugh. “Dozens. And a pretty girl like you—you must have a lot of boyfriends too. Now, please…”

“No!” The girl’s face twisted. “They never let me. Daddy says…”

“Please, just listen, untie me before he comes back. I’ll get you away from here. I’ll take care of you. I promise.” She felt her tenuous control slipping: already tears pooled, blurring the room. “Stella?” Footsteps sounded behind her. “What…?” She felt tugging, sharp pressure. “No! No, stop it! That’s not the way!”

“I can’t.” The voice sounded sorrowful, and long tresses brushed Kit’s cheek.

“Then find something to cut it with. Hurry! Look over there on that table.”

The girl seemed to move a bit more steadily on her feet.

“Do you see anything?” Again, the whole room shook, the door actually bulging on its hinges, while water squirted in at the gaps. “We’ve got to get out of here. Did you find…?”

“This?”

“Yes, try it! Hurry!”

From the shadows, Stella wobbled forward, holding up a rusted screwdriver. A tiny bead of lamplight gleamed on the tip, and the girl stared at it in wonder, as if she’d never seen anything like it before.

“Is it sharp at all? Stella?”

The girl’s features dissolved in dimness, only the glitter of her gaze still bright.

They crouched on the floor, the boy poised like an animal.

“What do you think, kid?” Easing the barrel of his gun over the edge of the desk, Steve peered at the window grate. “He’s your brother.”

The first of the bullets had plowed into the outer walls with a sound like hail, and now particles of glass iced the floor.

In the heavy silence, the boy seemed to concentrate. “He went away,” he whispered at last.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I…just think so.”

“Yeah?” Steve watched him. “What else do you think?”

The boy’s lips pressed tight.

“Never mind. Don’t have another seizure. You said you knew where he took Kit.”

“There’s a place.”

“No bullshit now.”

Perry shook his head. “I mean it—I’ll take you there, if…”

“If what?”

“If you promise to kill him,” he said. “If you promise.”

“Easy to tell you’re brothers.” Steve swallowed hard. “Why do you hate each other so much?”

“…didn’t used to. When I was little, he…tried to help me, take care of me.”

“But you’re afraid of him now?”

Perry drew back.

“Just so we understand each other, kid—and so you don’t try anything—there’s something else you ought to know. He has the girl too. He’s got Stella Marie.”

“No! No, you’re lying!”

“Shut up! Let go of my arm. Stop that, I said. I’m telling you, he’s got her. Stop that or I’m gonna deck you, so help me. That’s better. I found that apartment of yours. Finally. Place looked like it’d been torn apart by baboons.”

The boy trembled violently.

“There’s no time for that now. Snap out of it. If you really know where they might be, you’d better talk fast. There’s no telling how much time they’ve got or if they’re even alive still. Because you know as well as I do, sooner or later, your brother is gonna do what he does best.”

“No, across—use the point. Slash back and forth. That’s it. Oww! No, don’t stop! Is it cutting?”

The door banged open, and a wave of freezing air flooded the room. The screwdriver fell to the floor, but any sound it might have made faded into the rumble of the surf.

“Ah! Sorry I took so long, ladies.” He stomped and splashed into the room, bolting the door behind him. “Stella, dear, stop whatever it is you’re doing there at once, and come away from that woman. There’s a good girl.” The parka dripped copiously as he dumped a duffel bag on the floor. “I experienced quite a difficult time getting back. The waves have commenced coming up over the boards again. We shall have to leave now, Stell.” He patted the girl gently on the shoulder, and she whimpered faintly. “I’m afraid I couldn’t get to our Perry. But—never fear—we’ll find him later.” His expression went vacant, as though he’d withdrawn to consider his own words. “See? I’ve brought some things from your apartment.”

As the girl shuffled toward the bag, Ramsey turned to Kit. Carefully, he removed his glasses.

She glimpsed something dark snaked around his hand. “No.”

“Don’t worry.” He unraveled the extension cord. “You know I’d never harm you.”

He moved fast, like a big animal. He jumped up, his knees on either side of her, and the chair teetered, groaning. His stomach crushed her, suffocated her, and the rough fabric of his jeans scraped her face. He shifted down. She could barely moan. She’d expected his hands to burn damply on her flesh, but they felt dry as corn husks. With a surprisingly gentle efficiency, he wrapped the cord about her throat.

“No, no, don’t move, dear. That’s it now. Almost done.”

She writhed, twisting against his bulk, as he jerked the cord tight.

The room splintered into clattering fragments. A damp hiss emerged from her mouth, and he smiled tenderly.

“That’s it.” Saliva stringed his lips as they parted. “Just another moment.”

A mumbling shriek shook the room. He jumped up, and Kit gasped brokenly, throat bulging against the cord, as the room throbbed like blood. The cry went on, shatteringly, as though it would never end, a scream of horror and outrage and suffering.

“No, no, Stell, no.” Prone on the floor now, he cradled her. “It’s all right. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Stop. I promise. Oh no, Stell, no, baby, no.” He rocked the girl in his arms, while shrieks rattled through her contorted mouth. Her whole clenched body reddened, muscles twitching, as she screamed until at last all the breath poured out of her. It wouldn’t stop; the convulsion shook her. The cords of her face and neck swelled, while her fingernails ripped splinters from the soft wooden floor. “Perry used to get like this too.” Piteously, he looked up at Kit. “When he was just little.” The girl’s feet pounded the boards.

Kit jerked her head desperately from side to side, scraping her head against the back of the chair until the cord slackened. She sucked a burning gulp of air and savored the agony of it. Slowly, her vision cleared.

He crouched with the girl in his arms, and tears streaked his face, mingling with beads of sweat. “Can you help her?” With his open hand, he wiped froth from the girl’s mouth. “If I untie you, can you…?” His face went white with terror. “What was that? Did you hear it?” His chest heaved. “Who said that? Stop that! Don’t! Stop it, I said!”

She attempted to tell him she heard nothing, but her vocal cords wouldn’t work.

“No, Perry, not like this!” Ramsey shouted. Behind him, a shuttered window exploded. Shards of glass scattered against the far wall, and a bullet gouged wood from above the door.

“Chandler! Let her go, Chandler!” The voice boomed on the wind. “Let her go now, or you’ll never get out of there.”

When he dropped his sister, the girl rolled once, then put her hands out and lifted her face from the floor, shaking her head numbly.

“I won’t let him,” Ramsey yelled. Yanking Kit’s revolver from his belt, he rushed to the window. “Not now.” He fired twice, fragmenting what remained of the glass.

The explosions obliterated Kit’s hearing, and a blueblack cloud singed her lungs.

“He can’t hurt us now.” He peered between the slats.

The shout seemed to come from a different direction. “I’ve got the boy, Chandler.”

Ramsey jerked around. Beyond the walls, the ocean howled.

“If you want him, I’ll trade.” The cry sounded nearer. “You hear me, Chandler? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Lying. Trying to trick me.” He mumbled rapidly to himself. “He wants her.” And his fingers scraped the side of his face, as though trying to scratch away the sweat. “He wants her for himself.” In his hand, the revolver trembled. “Don’t worry, Stell. I’m here.” He crouched beside her again. “Ramsey’s here. I won’t let him touch you.” Staying low, he scrambled to the far corner of the room, pausing only to push her down again. “No, Stell—stay there.” He shoved the ancient card table, sent it collapsing against the wall. “Wait.” Frantically, he clawed at the floor.

Kit stared.

Beneath his fingers, a section of flooring pulled up with a squeal of rust. The trap crashed open, and a burst of freezing air filled the shack with a thick, fetid stench of waste and rot and dead things churned from the depths. Grabbing Stella by the hand, he yanked her upright. “It’s not very deep.” He dragged Stella to it as she struggled feebly, glassy panic in her eyes. “Truly. See, dear? It goes down under the pier.”

Softly, the sea rumbled below.

“Ramsey?” Another voice probed, thin, urgent. “Ramsey, it’s me, Perry. Don’t hurt her. Ramsey, please, don’t hurt her. You can do anything you want to me. Okay? Stella, can you hear…?” Wind swept the voice away.

“We’ll be all right.” Ramsey jumped down, splashing to his knees. “Just stay with me, Stell.” He sank to his waist, still tugging at her. “There’s just a few steps here. Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you.” A wave slapped him, sloshing up into the room, drenching the floor. “Always. I will.”

Though the girl pulled back, he steadied himself against the edge of the trap, holding her with one hand and drawing her down. “It’s so cold. Hurry.” His teeth chattering, he pulled harder until something in her face stopped him.