Feral (30 page)

Shannon pressed closer to Gordon, feeling his heat and liking it, cherishing it in a way she had never cherished the feel of another body.
 
She pressed her face into the back of his neck and inhaled his scent; a combination of sweat and endorphins, a residue of fear, and a scent that was indefinable.

He shifted against her in his sleep, and the action of that light friction brought gooseflesh and a shivering pleasure.
 
When she moaned in his ear, a wholly unintentional sound, he awoke and turned.

Their lips found each other as if by instinct.

Sometime later, as she sat riding him on the hard surface of their makeshift bed, she found the time to marvel at how swiftly it had happened, how in only two nights, emotional as they had been, she had fallen in love with him.

Then all thought was gone, and time followed.
 
When they awoke again, he was still inside of her, their sleeping embrace so tight they might have been one instead of two.
 
At length, though she didn't want to, she released him and rolled away.
 
She found her clothes tossed with abandon from one side of the alcove to the other, one of her shoes so close to the cooling remains of the file pit, the sole had melted a little.

When they had both dressed, Dave had still not arrived.

Gordon found his flashlight, the one that had seen them through the narrow culvert to the main tunnel, took Shannon's hand, and led her down the corridor toward what he hoped was an exit.
 
Sometime later, they found the end and stepped into the gray light of another day.

T
hey walked along the river toward downtown not knowing where to go, not Feral Park, not Shannon's house, and certainly not the hotel room.
 
Riverside wasn't big, but maybe if they were lucky they could stay lost.
 
Gordon didn't think they would be suspects in the undercover cop's murder, but they were witnesses, and if Winter got hold of them, he wouldn't let go.
 
Thinking of Winter, Gordon remembered his cell phone and wondered again if the Sergeant had tried to call.

“Let's stop for a minute.
 
I have to check something.”

“Sure.”
 
Shannon sat down on the edge of an uneven boulder and rested.

Gordon paused for a second, looking at her, and felt a tremendous warmth.

You have gone and done it now
, he thought.
 
Just when things couldn't get any stranger
.

He was not sorry about what had happened though.
 
It had been perhaps the only truly happy moment in the past six miserable years, and if they made it through this alive, he planned to make spending that kind of time with her a habit.
 
He was worried about her though; she had been strangely silent since finally pushing away from him.

“Shannon, are you okay?”
 
He hated the way he sounded, needy, worried.
 
In love.

“Yeah,” she said, and smiled, the blank look leaving her face temporarily.
 
“Just thinking.”

“Thinking what?”
 
More needy.
 
He hated it, but couldn't help it.

“You know,” she said.
 
“About strange men in strange places, and not knowing what's coming next.”

“Who you calling strange?” he said with mock anger.

“You, mister,” she said, returning his playful glare.
 
Then her face was serious again.
 
“What next?”

Was that a question or just thinking out loud
? he wondered.
 
He took a chance and answered.
 
“I don't know, but if we're lucky we'll find out together.”

“You, me, Charity,” she said wistfully.
 
She stared at the river, its flowing constancy seeming to soothe her.
 
“That would be nice.”

”Yes,” she said.
 
“That would be nice.”

They stared at each other for a second.
 
It took an almost physical effort to look away.
 
She resumed watching the river.
 
He stared at his cell phone.

Gordon knew what she was thinking.
 
Thinking things could end the way they wanted them to was beyond optimistic, it was fantasy.
 
But the optimism was all he had, so he clung to it.

There were two voice messages, the first he had expected, from Sergeant Winter.
 
The name attached to the second message almost buckled his knees.
 
He stumbled backward, crying out in shock, dropped next to Shannon, and prepared to listen to a message from a dead man.

A message from Charles' cell phone.

D
ad
?
 
A simple plaintive tone, spoken with a mixture of disbelief and hope.
 
A crash of thunder interrupted, the night's reproving rebuttal.
 
It rang painfully in Gordon's ears.
 
He pulled the phone away cringing, and Shannon moved in closer to hear.

Dad, are you there
?

He hadn't been, he had been hiding like a rat in the sewers, a cowardly rat.
 
He had missed her, and just barely at that.
 
It felt like the universe itself was conspiring against them, trapping them with circumstance and taunting them with near misses.

He groaned, closed his eyes, and rubbed at his temples with his free hand.
 
Shannon pushed in closer.
 
“What is it?”

He shushed her and stooped a little, moving ear to ear with her, the phone between them.

I guess not, huh
?
 
She sounded disappointed, but not surprised.
 
Gordon guessed with all she'd been through, Charity was beyond surprise.

Shannon paled visibly, groped for him and held onto his arm.

If you can come back to the park tomorrow night
.
 
We'll come out after dark
.
 
In the background beyond the drone of wind and falling rain was the laughter of children, and the rough rhythm of heavy metal music.
 
Someone called her name.

Hide in the trees if you can, or on the path by the river
.
 
She was speaking quickly, almost frantically.
 
Someone, a young boy, called her name again, and this time he sounded closer.
 
I have to go
.
 
Please come
.
 
I don't like it here
.
 
There was a pause, and then she whispered.
 
I miss you, Dad
.
 
I miss Shannon
.
 
Please come for me
.

Then silence.
 
A robotic voice followed, informing him that he could listen to the message again by pressing the pound key, or that he could listen to the previous message by pushing the left arrow.
 
Instead he pushed End, folded the phone closed, and slipped it back into the carrier on his belt.

T
hey found an ugly piece of unused land closer to town.
 
It was several feet from the shore, covered with thistles instead of stones, and shaded by a cluster of willows.
 
The shade provided no relief from the heat, the air was heavy, laden with humidity, but it gave him a feeling of privacy.
 
A rise of the same barren land hid the city from them, and just beyond the rise, probably no more than a few hundred feet away, was the Riverside, and a room that may or may not have been crawling with cops.
 
He thought about sneaking closer, getting a look.
 
Shannon's Chevelle might still be parked out back, but it wasn't likely.

“Don't even think it,” Shannon said, and pulled him deeper into the ugly tangle of trees.
 
“Not until we know what he's thinking.”

“You're right,' Gordon said, sighed, then hunted for a clear place on the ground for them to sit.
 
The signal was weak; for a moment he thought he
would
have to leave the grove to reach his voice messages, but the universe was feeling kind at that moment and the message came through.

Sergeant Winter's message was not what he had expected, dreaded.
 
No angry demands that they turn themselves in, no telling questions or outright accusations.
 
His message was tinged with a low-level panic, and what sounded like genuine concern.

Mr. Chambers
?
 
Ms. Pitcher
?
 
Are you guys all right
?
 
I just heard what happened at the theatre
.
 
Some anger did show through, but it was undirected, or at least not directed at them.

Goddamn
, he almost shouted.
 
What are we dealing with here
?
 
The background noise of the station was a low commotion.
 
He shouted for quiet and continued.
 
If you're alive, call me
!

That was it.

Gordon supposed he could be bluffing, trying to lure them back under false assumptions so he could lock them up, but he didn't think so.
 
If he had suspected, he wouldn't have let them go in the first place, and there was something about the man, maybe the directness of his words, or the way his thoughts showed so plainly on his simple face during their interview, that excluded the possibility of a bluff.
 
Gordon didn't think the man could bluff if he wanted to.

“I'm going to call him,” Gordon said.

Shannon nodded, watched him anxiously as he pulled Winter's crumpled card from his pocket and dialed.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Riverside PD,” he said gruffly.
 
“Sergeant Winter speaking.”

“Hello, Sergeant.
 
It's Gordon Chambers.”

There was a brief pause, maybe a moment of shock, or maybe enough time to start a trace on their location.

“I'm glad to hear from you.”
 
The tone was markedly softer, the gruffness gone completely.
 
“I was sure you were dead.
 
Where are you?”

“I'm not sure,” he lied.
 
“I don't know this town.
 
I think I can find my way back to the Riverside.”
 
He glanced at Shannon, found her almost jittering with nerves, and gave her a quick wink, to let her know all was cool.

“Can you give me a landmark?
 
I can have someone look for you.”

“There's a Flying J truck stop,” he said, remembering the place on his way through town.
 
It was on the highway just coming into town, probably five miles or more from where he sat.
 
If Winter was tracking the call he would know he was lying, and he would call him on it.
 
“Don't bother, though.
 
I don't want to stop moving, if you know what I mean.
 
If I don't find my room, I'll find the station.”
 
Next came the important question.
 
“Do you have anybody at the Riverside?”

“No.
 
I lost three men yesterday.
 
I don't have the manpower to stakeout someone who isn't a suspect now.”
 
Straightforward and without pause.
 
If there was a bluff Gordon could not detect it.
 
“I'm sending someone out for you, Mr. Chambers.
 
Keep moving if you like, but stay on the main road so they can see you.
 
I need to get you here, safe.

“I have a feeling there's more to this than I'm getting.
 
You're going to come clean with me, Mr. Chambers.
 
Another kid disappeared last night.
 
His parents were butchered.
 
If you don't come clean with me, I'll jail you for obstruction.
 
You got that?”

“Yes,” Gordon said.
 
“I'll see you soon.”

He hung up, looked at Shannon.
 
“The coast is clear.
 
Let's move.”

S
hannon drove west toward the park, onto the highway, and got them out of town without being seen.
 
They found Gordon's car parked where they had left it the night before.
 
A uniformed officer patrolling the area never strayed too far from it.
 
Shannon thought this might be a good sign; if they were watching Gordon's car maybe they wouldn't be watching for the Chevelle.
 
Just outside of town they saw a State Cruiser, probably out of Clarkston.
 
Gordon slid down to the floorboard before they were close enough to see the driver, or for them to see him.