Deviant (30 page)

As he took it out he noticed that his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“Gotta keep it together, Danny. Got to keep it together, bro,” he told himself.

He looked at the pepper-spray can and tried to read the instructions on the side but it was much too dark for that. The cat killer was talking to himself through his ski mask.

Danny took the cap off the pepper spray. Probably you just aimed and pushed.

Danny walked closer.

Jeff was struggling.

The cat killer pushed Jeff down onto the stone.

Lifted his knife.

“That's enough!” Danny said.

The cat killer turned, startled.

Jeff jumped off the rock and ran straight to Danny.

Danny pointed the pepper spray at the strange hooded figure in front of him.

They were fifteen feet apart.

“The game's up, you little punk,” Danny said, his voice steady.

Jeff was rubbing himself against Danny's legs, seeking his approval. “Yes, you're very clever, now scoot. Get out of here. Hide yourself in those rocks over there,” he whispered.

Suddenly the cat killer turned off his flashlight.

All was darkness.

For two seconds Danny wondered what to do.

But then he saw the cat killer moving silently toward him as if on rails.

Danny didn't hesitate.

He fired the pepper spray. His aim was good. The cat killer was caught completely unaware. He yelped as hot pepper scalded his face and stung his eyes.

“We got him, Jeff!” Danny yelled.

But then the killer fired his weapon.

There was a scream.

Danny's scream.

And then his body was on fire.

Danny convulsed in pain. He threw up. And then the pain came again.

The air was sucked from his lungs. He couldn't think. All he could do was feel pain. Pain in every joint and muscle, pain in every nerve ending and synapse.

A terrible, white molten torment as a thousand volts traveled from the Taser along its wires and into Danny.

When the full charge was used the cat killer threw the Taser to one side and ran at him. He knocked the can of pepper spray from Danny's hand and Danny felt fists thumping into his body. Heavy, measured, deliberate blows that clubbed the air out of him. A punch in the face, another in the throat, one in the gut.

Danny's leather jacket did little to protect him.

Another punch in the face.

White spots before his eyes.

He went down.

Blackout.

More fists. A kick. Kicks.

Red-out.

Blood pouring from his nostrils, his mouth.

Somehow Danny curled himself into the fetal position.

The cat killer paused to regard him and get his breath. Irritation over the lost cat had transmuted into triumph.

This was a special day, after all.

This was graduation day.

This was the day he made the cross-species jump. Like a virus. Like a deadly virus. From bugs to cats to, finally, people. A fourteen-year-old boy called Danny Lopez.

Danny tried to wipe the blood from his face but he couldn't move.

Everything hurt.

Tears had cleared the blood from his eyes. He tried to lift
his head but it was wedged into one position like the closed-circuit camera directly above a blackjack table.

He stared along the canyon floor. He saw the killer's combat boots and, through his legs, the desert terrain and the distant red and blue lights of Colorado Springs blurring into one long smear of color.

And on the edge of his vision a pair of slant eyes staring at him from the darkness.

Run, cat, run, he thought wearily.

But Jeff was caught up in the moment and he crouched there, behind a cactus, transfixed.

Curiosity will be the death of both of us, Danny thought.

The cat killer bent down over him.

Danny felt his breath.

The cat killer put his hand on Danny's cheek, turned his face toward him.

He grabbed Danny's long brown hair and pulled it back, exposing the jugular vein to the fleeting moon.

Danny blinked.

He blinked moon, desert, canyon, mountain, and truck lights on the I-25.

The last thing he'd ever see.

Danny knew it was the end. Now was the time for prayer. He sought words in English, in Spanish, in Cherokee. He fumbled for words, he drowned in words, but no words came. He thought about everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks, ever since they had arrived at Denver International Airport. Could he have done things
differently? Of course. He could have gone with the flow. Hidden. Dissolved. That's what he should have done. More like his levelheaded mom, less like his screwup “father.”

He thought about Nevada and L.A. and all the places he had been in his short life. He would never get to see any of them again. And he would die not knowing who did this to him.

It didn't seem fair.

At the very least show me your face, Danny thought.

The cat killer smiled under his ski mask.

His thoughts were very different from Danny's.

Elated.

Triumphant.

Graduation day at last! And the boy's heart as a trophy. Better than a cat heart by far. A candle against the dark. A chance to live, a chance to—

He heard a sound and looked up. It was nothing, just a flock of geese tugging into the blue water of the infinite night …

His head was swimming with adrenal hormones. Perhaps he should calm down. Do this right. Danny wasn't going anywhere. He reached into his pocket for one of his morphine pills.

The opium fell into the lining of his stomach and the acids worked on the chalky exterior of the pill, dissolving it. Slowly the opiates seeped through his stomach wall and into his blood.

Everything relaxed. Everything was good.

Nothing bad had happened in his life.

Nothing bad was going to happen.

There was only the present.

The Master said so.

The Master was right.

Where was the Master?

He looked around him.

Geese, knife, snow, desert, rock.

Beneath him, Danny.

Groaning.

Take a deep breath, Danny Lopez, deep enough to carry you across the Styx.

It is time to die.

The blade went up.

The boy's throat was bare.

The blade swung down into the headlights of a car accelerating hard toward him along the gravel path.

Headlights.

A car.

People.

A trap!

Forget the cat! Forget the boy!

Run.

Run!

Into the woods. Deep into the woods.

The trees will hide us. The trees are our confederates.

Master, are you there?

Yes, come on.

The trees …

Keep going. This way!

More trees. Another hill. Finally, the mountain.

Rest here for a moment and then we'll run again.

They'll bring in the FBI for this one.

But they won't catch us.

Distant flashlights.

Cop cars.

But they were miles below on the lower slopes.

And gradually the conversation of mankind grew fainter and fainter, until it was lost completely and he was in the woods,
his
woods, among bear and fox and wolf and other predators, other allies of the dark, and before he knew it he was on the old familiar trails and as dawn rose red and gold on the eastern horizon he was back at his house and, at least for a while, safe.

 

Danny woke suddenly and breathed in great gulps of air.

He gasped and opened his eyes.

Stars.

Stars through a skylight.

There was something in his arm.

Sheets, coolness, a hum of machines.

He was in a hospital.

Someone had saved him.

He lay for a while. Thought. Was Jeffrey OK? Had the cat killer got away? How come nothing hurt?

He closed his eyes and when he opened them the room was filled with light and his mom was holding his hand.

“They told us you were awake,” she said.

“Jeffrey?” he said.

“Your dad found him and brought him home.”

“My dad? From Chicago?”

“Walt. He followed you in the electric car.”

“Silent but deadly, the Tesla,” Danny joked.

Juanita smiled and stroked his forehead.

“The guy? … The cat killer?” Danny asked.

“I'm afraid he got away. I'm sorry. There's a police officer outside who wants to … No, that can wait. How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine. What happened? I mean … Why am I in here? What happened to me? Am I hurt? Did I have surgery?”

“No. A concussion and three broken ribs, but everyone says you got off lightly.”

“He Tasered me.”

“They told me that. Are you OK?”

“It was terrible. It hurt so bad, Mom. It really hurt.” Danny bit his lip.

“You're OK now,” she said. “You're OK now.”

“But they didn't get him, did they?” Danny asked.

“Not yet. But they will. It happened on the Ute Reservation, so of course the FBI are involved, not that idiotic sheriff.”

“I broke some ribs?”

“Three ribs.”

“I can't feel anything.”

“Painkillers through the drip in your arm.”

“There's a drip in my arm?”

Just then the door opened and a nurse asked him how
he was doing. Danny said he was doing fine and the nurse asked if he would like some ice cream. He said yes and she brought him a cup of delicious vanilla ice cream with a little wooden spoon.

“I've never been in a hospital before,” Danny said as his mom fed him.

“I know.”

“I like it.”

“That's good.”

“What day is it?”

“It's Saturday.”

“So, I wasn't in a coma?”

“No. Why?”

“I didn't have any dreams. They say you don't have any dreams in a coma.”

“You talked up a storm.”

“I did?”

“Who's Indrid Cold?” his mom asked. “You were babbling about him or her.”

“Uh … nobody,” Danny said.

Juanita sighed. “You need more rest.”

“Are they going to fix my ribs?”

“Danny, Walt's waiting outside. He's been worried sick. Can I send him in to see you?”

Danny nodded.

Juanita got up and opened the door.

Walt came in. He was pale.

He sat next to Juanita.

“You're not mad at me, are you, son?” Walt said.

Danny shook his head and started to cry.

He cried for a long while and Juanita took one hand and Walt the other.

“Thank you, Dad,” Danny said when the tears had stopped.

Walt nodded and swallowed hard. “Oh God, here come the waterworks,” he said.

“Are they going to fix my ribs?” Danny asked, to help Walt out.

Walt smiled. “They say there's not much they can do about ribs. Ribs just kind of fix themselves. But you'll be OK.” His voice was frail and he looked old.

“You followed me, didn't you?” Danny said.

Walt nodded. “Yeah, I followed you.”

“Bob told you I was going to stake out Tony's house, didn't he? He's a traitor.”

“Bob did the right thing.”

“He lied to me.”

“Bob was really concerned about you. I called him this morning. He was so relieved that you were OK.”

Danny knew Bob and Walt
had
done the right thing, but even so it was still a betrayal and that hurt a little.

“I'm never talking to him again,” Danny said.

“I hope you change your mind about that. Bob really likes you,” Walt said.

Danny nodded. “We'll see.”

“Do you want to hear the details? Are you strong enough?” Walt asked.

“Sure. Spill. I'm listening.”

Walt explained that he had snuck out after Danny, but lost him when he went off on the skateboard. He had fired up the Tesla and chased after him, almost killing him at the junction on Alameda. Then he'd tracked him, arriving just in time to stop the cat killer from cutting Danny's throat.