Vision (22 page)

Somehow, they managed it. Coco stood on Bobby’s shoulders, pushed out the loose grate and squeezed through the opening. He reached back inside and helped Bobby get a foothold, pulling him up and out.

Once outside, Bobby breathed in the night air. The woods were cast in hazy silver light, enough for him to see Coco’s shadowed figure beside him.

“Full moon. That’s good,” Coco said.

“Is it? This way, it’s also easier for him to see
us
.”

“You got a point there.”

“Doesn’t matter. We have no choice. See any long sticks around? We both need ‘em”

Coco directed him to two dead branches, which snapped off easily.

Bobby tossed him the longer branch. “Can you stand?”

“Do I have any choice?”

Bobby slung Coco’s arm around him. With the support of the branch to steady him, they were only able to take small hops.

“This is ridiculous,” Coco said. “We’d be better off crawling.”

“Once we get out of these estate grounds, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

It took forever to fight their way through the tangle of growth and locate a break in the wall that enclosed the abandoned estate. Bobby wasn’t sure what the killer’s game was, but he’d dropped off his radar. There was no sign of him, but Bobby didn’t think that meant they could relax. They had to keep moving.

By the time they’d made it past the wall, into the woods, Bobby had long since lost his bearings. Without the killer’s trail to follow, he had no idea where they were. And Coco’s shallow breathing worried him. They had to stop for long periods of time for him to rest.

“Leave me here and go get help,” Coco moaned on their latest rest stop.

“I wish. But I need you, remember? You’re my eyes.”

“It’s hard to breathe. I can’t—I can’t feel my leg.”

“You can do it, Coco. You gotta do it.”

So on they went, slow as snails. Bobby caught the damp breeze that carried the taint of Dana’s murder and realized they were getting closer to the reservoir.

“We’re almost there, man. If we can make it to the reservoir, there’s a path that leads to the highway. We can flag down some help there.”

“No,” Coco said, faintly. “Can’t move. Can’t. Go without me.”

Bobby felt Coco’s head. He was burning up, his pulse weak.

“Crap, buddy. C’mon. One last push.”

Silence.

“Coco?” No answer. Bobby felt under his nose. There was still the shallow rise and fall of his chest, still warm air leaking out, but Bobby couldn’t rouse him. Coco was out cold.

“Oh, God, buddy. Please. I’m gonna get help. I swear. Forgive me for leaving you here.”

Bobby tried to cover Coco with some dry leaves, hoping to camouflage him while keeping him protected. It was ridiculous. A wing and a prayer. Here he was, barely able to see, and his friend’s only hope of survival.

Meanwhile, the killer was lurking, playing cat and mouse, waiting for the right time to pounce.

Bobby seethed with anger. The killer had murdered his mother.

No. He wasn’t giving up or giving in. Not until he breathed his very last.

Thrashing his stick through the thick tangle of vines and brambles, Bobby scrambled toward the residual vibrations of Dana’s brutal death that still lingered around the reservoir.

The killer was probably watching, enjoying his panic, his rising terror of dying like a hunted animal. The trace of Dana’s dying cries landed on his ears. Almost there—yet still no sense of the killer lurking. Had Bobby lost him, or was it all part of the game? Bobby didn’t have time to ponder. He had to get help for Coco. Fast.

The sky lit up in a broad expanse of glowing silver, an echo of the same light bouncing back from below.

Water. He’d reached the reservoir.

A swing of the stick told him it was a steep drop to the road that would lead him to help. Bobby picked his way down, his feet toeing for footholds in the jagged rock.

It seemed like he’d been descending forever when he heard it. Dogs barking.

The sound of a particular dog’s bark caused him to listen closely.

“Pete!” he roared.

The barking grew closer, and along with it, sweeping beams of light and frantic calls.

“Bobby! Bobby!”

It was Gabe’s voice. Then came the breaking of twigs, the beam of a flashlight slashing through the dark as she raced up the incline to meet him.

“Oh, God! Bobby! We thought you were dead! What happened? You look like you’ve been through a war.”

Then came the shouts of the others and their flashlight beams.

“Coco,” he panted. “Up there. In a bad way.”

There was more shouting. He identified familiar voices in the blur of figures. Jerry, Max, Mr. Cooper, along with a multitude of others.

Max was the next to reach them. “Bobby! Thank God. You have no idea what’s been going on down here. Let Kenny Cooper and Jerry Woods take you to get you cleaned up. You’ve got some nasty cuts there. Gabe, me, and the police will search for Coco with the dogs.”

Bobby was led down to the path, where he collapsed from exhaustion into Jerry Woods’s arms.

“Where’s my boy? Isn’t Coco with you?”

“He’s up there, Jerry, barely hanging on. Sheriff Barclay tried to kill us. He shot Coco.”

There was a scuffling of feet, urgent shouts. “We’ll get him, Bobby. Mr. Cooper’s gonna take you to my house.”

“No, please, I need to stay here. I gotta know that Coco’s okay.”

“I’ll stay here with you,” said Mr. Cooper. He helped Bobby to one of the benches that lined the reservoir path. “How bad is he?”

“Shot in the leg. He’s lost a lot of blood.” Bobby hung his head and shuddered, the shock and terror of what he’d just lived through hitting him hard. He couldn’t stop the tremors that started at his jaw and vibrated through his entire body. “The sheriff tried to kill both of us—then,” Bobby hesitated about mentioning the phantom figure in the woods, “we managed to get away.”

“Sheriff Barclay told everyone that he had evidence to prove you were the killer,” Mr. Cooper added. “That
you’d
killed Dana. He was becoming irrational. People knew about your condition, and know what kind of kid you are. No one believed him. But they
were
starting to get suspicious of the sheriff. Dana had reached out to some of the teachers at school, me included. The sheriff was not a nice man.”

“Wait. You don’t think he killed Dana, do you?”

“It looks like he’s the guy. They’re trying to see if forensics can match him up to the other girl’s death. Bobby, he held his wife hostage and holed himself up in his house. They had an entire SWAT team here. The police are convinced he’s the guy.”

“And?” Bobby shook his head, his teeth chattering, the trace of Dana’s pitiful wails still echoing around him. Wouldn’t he have felt the evidence of her murder radiating off the sheriff? Wouldn’t there have been a sign?

Of course, he couldn’t explain his AFS to Mr. Cooper.

“It’s not him, Mr. Cooper.” Bobby stood. Only blackness lay between pulses of flashing lights. “I need to talk to them.”

Mr. Cooper sighed heavily. “They have their man. Sheriff Barclay’s dead. After he shot his wife at point-blank range, the troopers stormed the house and took him down.”

Bobby lurched toward the lights, but Mr. Cooper grabbed him by the arm. “You’ve had a tremendous shock, Bobby, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll bring you over to an officer.”

“I see,” the officer said, his voice flat. Bobby could almost hear the man roll his eyes as he tried to explain his ordeal in the woods. “We’ll be sure to look into it, son. We understand the sheriff wanted to implicate you as a suspect. You don’t have to worry yourself. There’s no evidence to connect you to these crimes. Why don’t you get some rest and we’ll talk in a couple of days?”

“But…Officer…” Mr. Cooper was already pulling him away. No one believed him. He’d have to wait until Coco was able to verify his story. If he was in any shape to do so.

Shouts came from behind. “They’ve got him, Bobby. They’ve got Coco.”

Bobby broke free from Mr. Cooper and stumbled toward the voices.

“Let me see him. Please!” Someone had him by the arm, holding him back. He was shouting, pushing, shoving at the bodies in his way, tears blurring his already fading sight. “Please!”

The reservoir road flooded with gaudy red and blue light, blanking out all else. Bobby flailed through the chaos, trying to claw his way closer.

“Everybody back! The paramedics are here.”

People were shouting, jostling him. He couldn’t get to Coco.

“Is he alive?” he shouted into the dark.

Someone grabbed him in the shove and pull of bodies and hugged him tight. Jerry Woods. “He’s still with us, Bobby. Coco’s gonna make it.”

W
hat seemed like the entire town of Graxton had crowded into the Woods’s living room to hold a vigil for Coco. Mrs. Woods zipped around like a tiny speedboat, trying to feed everyone, until she finally collapsed in the kitchen in a fit of sobs.

The wait was getting to all of them.

The county hospital was fifteen miles away, and Bobby, along with everyone else, was on pins and needles waiting to hear that Coco had survived the ambulance trip.

Bobby sat on the couch, squeezing Gabe’s hand, Aaron asleep in his lap. Listening to the tick of the giant grandfather clock, he counted off the minutes of the endless night, Pete curled up at his feet.

Watching the dark shapes shift and glide, Bobby noted he’d lost more color. Forms were melting and softening like ice cream on a hot day. Even the light had gone softer, the contrasts duller. His sight was going quickly, eclipsed like the moon’s shadow creeping over the earth. It was Thursday night, almost Friday, not even a full week since his first attack. By this Sunday, at the rate he was going, he’d be completely blind.

He pulled Gabe closer, letting her warmth quiet the shaking that rattled his bones, but his teeth wouldn’t stop clacking.

Let Coco live
, he prayed. He’d never bitch about anything again. Never waste a minute feeling sorry for himself. Accept his fate with grace and just be glad to be alive.

The room broke out in a pattering of applause. Mr. Cooper had gone to the next town and returned a hero with a box of coffee and three cartons of donuts.