Joyce & Jim Lavene - Taxi for the Dead 02 - Dead Girl Blues (12 page)

There was a large meadow that swept up a hill from Debbie’s property. I caught a glimpse of someone running that way and pointed it out to my partner.

“It’s Terry.” Her breath came hard and fast. “He’s got Bowman.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Whatever we have to do to get him back.” There was no doubt in her tone. If she’d had to kill Terry at that moment to rescue her son, she would’ve done it.

I nodded and took out my gun. We kept running after them.

It was difficult to track them. The clouds kept even starlight from showing us their passage through the tall weeds and grasses. There was no moon and no other streetlights along the road at that point. We had to rely on Bowman calling for help to continue following them.

We finally reached a ridge on the hill. Lights from a dairy farm that lay on the other side of the sharp ridge helped us see Terry and his son. They stood out as Bowman struggled to get free from his father.

“I’ll come around from the other side,” I said to Debbie. I was a faster runner with my long legs and lack of bosom. It would also give her time to see if she could handle the situation without force. It was possible she could still talk the pair out of their disagreement.

“Be careful,” Debbie pleaded. “Don’t hurt Bowman.”

I ran along the side of the ridge where I still had the cover of clouds and darkness. Debbie ran straight to the spot where her loved ones were struggling. I hoped seeing her would be enough to calm Terry and end his rampage.

“Why are you here?” the voice was almost a growl—virtually non-human. “Go home. I am taking care of the problem.”

That had to be Terry, but it sounded nothing like him. I could see his silhouette in the light behind him. He looked as much like an animal as he sounded.

“Give me Bowman,” Debbie implored. “You can run free all night if you want to. Just give me our son.”

I sneaked closer to the spot where they were talking.

“Mom! Help me. He wants to kill me.” That was Bowman, still high-pitched and filled with terror.

“Let me have him, Terry.” Debbie had started crying. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

Terry roared. “He attacked me. He deserves what he gets.”

“He tried to kill Raina.” Bowman defended himself. “I hit him with my baseball bat.”

“Not a wise decision.” Terry shook his son as though he were a rag doll.

Why had Debbie thought Bowman would be the aggressor? She knew Terry was going through these changes. Why had she been so certain he wouldn’t hurt their kids?

The answer was obvious—she was afraid all the time that this would happen. She’d hoped things would be all right, but this was why she was so worried about getting home late every day.

“Put him down, Terry.” Debbie was still crying, but her voice was steady as she pointed the tranq gun at him. “I don’t want to do this, but I will.”

I was close enough to get off a shot that would hit him if it came down to it. Terry seemed so engrossed with Debbie and Bowman that he hadn’t noticed me. I held the Beretta steady on him and waited to see what happened.

Terry picked Bowman up and slung him across his back like a sack of grain. What he’d lost in height from his transformation, he’d gained in strength. His body was completely covered in stiff, thick hair. His legs were bowed like a goat’s, ending in large hooves. He’d grown horns on his head that curved slightly, and when I saw his face, I had to catch my breath.

He looked far more like an animal than a human. The change had taken him over.

Debbie didn’t wait another instant for him to run with her son. She fired the dart from the tranq gun that we used to subdue runaway zombies. Usually one did the job.

It had no visible effect on Terry.

She fired again and again. I could see the darts sticking out of his back, but they didn’t stop him.

Before Terry could make it any further from us down the hill toward the farm, I aimed the Beretta at him and fired low, catching him in the leg.

He dropped to the grassy hill, moaning and swearing. He and Bowman rolled over and over like a pair of young children having fun. Debbie screamed when she heard me fire and started after them.

Judging the position she was going to be in when they got to the bottom of the hill, I ran back for the van and pressed hard on the gas pedal to be there when she needed me.

I thought about checking on Raina—she could be hurt and alone in the house. But I judged that Debbie was going to need me more. I rounded the curve in the road that led to the farm and drove quickly down the gravel road.

Debbie was on the ground with Bowman and Terry. She was hugging her son and sobbing. I got out of the van and, hoped no one had seen what had gone on.

“We should get him in the van,” I said. “Whoever lives here could wonder what’s happening.”

Debbie pushed to her feet, furious as she charged at me. “You shot him. I can’t believe you shot my husband.”

She punched at me a few times, but I fended her off.

“He was leaving with Bowman. What else could I do? You said whatever it took. At least I only winged him.”

“No, Mom.” Bowman got to his feet and wrapped his arms around his mother. “He would’ve killed me. Thanks, Skye.”

Debbie collapsed against her son. “Why is this happening? I don’t understand.”

I didn’t encourage her to ruminate on the problem. “I don’t either, but we aren’t going to get any answers standing out here, and the farmer might call the police. We have to get Terry in the van and get out of here.”

Bowman nodded and helped his mother into the front seat. He came back and stared at his father who was writhing and howling on the ground. “I wish you’d killed him,” he said. “Look at him. He wanted to tear Raina apart tonight. I could see it in his eyes. Did Mom tell you that he dragged her down the stairs two nights ago? I tried to kill him then, but he’s too strong.”

“I know this is hard.” I put my hand on his shoulder and stared into his angry face. “But this is all we can do right now. Grab his legs and help me get him in the van. Don’t think about anything else. Let’s just get this done.”

He nodded and squared his narrow shoulders. I got up under Terry’s head and neck, but he swiped at me. His long claws caught my arm and the side of my face.

“This isn’t going to work. We can’t knock him out. We can’t reason with him. We’ll have to tie him up.”

I sent Bowman to the van for plastic restraints that I wasn’t convinced were going to hold him, but I didn’t know what else to do. His clawed hands kept waving at me, trying to catch me again. I finally sat on top of him and held his arms to the dry ground beneath us.

“Hurry,” I urged Bowman. “I can’t hold him for long.”

Terry was stronger than I’d imagined. Bowman and I probably couldn’t have managed him if Debbie hadn’t reluctantly left the van and helped us. Together we put double plastic restraints on his wrists and legs. His hooves kicked out at us, but there were no more injuries. We lifted him and pushed him into the back of the van. I slammed the door closed and leaned against it.

“Are you okay, Skye?” Bowman asked when he saw the blood on my face and arm.

“I’m fine. I just need a few bandages.”

“We have those and antibiotic ointment at the house,” Debbie said in a flat voice. “We can clean you up there.”

We got in the van—I was ready to start the engine—when I saw a shotgun sneak up close to my ear. I’d left the window open and a serious-looking farmer had shoved the end of the barrel inside.

“What the hell is going on out here?” he demanded.

I raised my hands and improvised. “We were looking for our lost dog.”

“Dog? What kind of dog?”

Great.
Now he was going to want to talk about lost dogs he’d found on his property.

“A poodle. Actually, a peek-a-poo. Barely two months old. Very small. Very harmless.”

“But we’re worried she might have been hurt,” Bowman added from the backseat. “Have you seen her, sir? She has little red ribbons in her hair. She just got back from the groomer.”

The farmer put down his shotgun. “No, son. I haven’t seen your pretty dog out here tonight. Aren’t you the boy who lives next door in the log cabin? I think I bought some school raffle tickets from you last fall.”

“That’s right.” Bowman laughed almost hysterically. “You bought twenty dollars’ worth. I hope you won something.”

“Yeah. My wife got a new blender out of the deal.” The farmer spat on the ground. “I’m sorry about your dog, son. I’ll keep an eye out for her.”

“Thank you.” Bowman’s voice shook. He was near his breaking point.

“You all haven’t seen any sign of a wolf about here, have you?” the farmer asked. “It’s been breaking into my hen house pretty regular like. I think it even attacked one of my cows the other night. I put in a call to the wildlife officer. He says we’re gonna get a hunting team together and track it down.”

“No,” I answered. “I sure hope it doesn’t get our little peek-a-poo. Thanks for your help.”

He stepped back, and I got out of his yard.

“Dad’s been coming home every morning covered in blood and chicken feathers,” Bowman said in a scared voice. “Will the wildlife officer track him back to our house and kill him?”

“Don’t say that,” Debbie hissed. “He’s still your father. He just needs help.”

“Sure, Mom. Whatever you say.”

When we got back to the cabin, Raina came running out. She was disheveled and crying but not injured. Debbie and her kids hugged each other. I looked away, wishing I was home with Kate. It was going to be another night where I was out past her bedtime. No doubt Addie would have plenty to say on the subject.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I deserved it. I was leaning too heavily on her and Lucas to fill in the gaps. I knew I needed to be home more—I just didn’t know how to make that happen.

“What do you want to do with him?” I asked Debbie, suddenly impatient to leave.

She wiped the tears from her face. “I think we should lock him in the basement. We don’t have to go down there much. It would keep him out of the way until we can figure this out.”

“I think you should take him to Abe and demand to know what’s going on,” I argued. “Whatever this is, a doctor can’t resolve it. You need help.”

“That’s my decision,” Debbie said. “At least for now. I don’t trust Abe to do what’s right for him. I know what he wants from me. He might be willing to kill Terry to get it.”

Or let him change into something you can’t live with.

“Sorry.” She glanced away. “I didn’t mean to sound like Abe would do anything—I’m just a mess right now.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I squeezed her arm. “Let’s get him inside.”

Chapter Sixteen

We dragged Terry into the basement with him fighting us the whole way. He slid down the stairs, bumping his head every few seconds. It couldn’t be helped. Bowman found some strong rope, and we tied him more securely.

“We need a cage for him,” Debbie said. “He needs to be safe until we can fix him. He can’t stay this way.”

“Any idea who’s going to fix him if you don’t take him to Abe?” I wiped blood off my face.

“What about Lucas?” She faced me with frantic eyes. “You could ask him, right? Maybe he could help.”

“I could ask him,” I agreed with a sigh. I couldn’t assure her that he’d come running over, but I could ask.

“Good. Thanks, Skye.”

When we had Terry settled, he seemed to calm down and even had a more human appearance and disposition. I didn’t trust that it would last. This had been slowly creeping up on him since last year. I believed he would eventually transform and never change back again.

I didn’t say what I was thinking to Debbie before I left. She’d been sitting at the kitchen table with a blank expression on her face. Bowman had gone up to bed. Raina had followed him. I said goodnight to my partner and left. She didn’t respond.

Despite feeling bad leaving her, I really wanted to go home. Even with the idea that Lucas could be an evil sorcerer, home was still the safest place I knew. I wanted to kiss Kate’s face even if she was sleeping. I wanted to feel normal for a while. I knew my life would never be normal again, not the way I’d known it before Jacob’s death. But at least I could pretend things were normal at Apple Betty’s Inn.

This time I didn’t take the shortcut past the place where Jacob had died. If there was something else going on there, I didn’t want to know. Not tonight. The lights were on outside the inn, and a few windows were lighted inside. The old Festiva was there beside the pickup truck Lucas had repaired. At least he got back all right.

I dropped my shoes in the mudroom, glad to feel the chill of air conditioning as I walked in the door. Maybe I could still feel heat because I was going to hell in seventeen years for cheating my natural death.

The Christian concept I’d been raised with had crossed my mind from time to time in the past three years. But if that was the case, so be it. I didn’t care—after all I’d seen since my death. I wasn’t even sure I believed in heaven and hell anymore.

Addie wasn’t waiting for me. She was around the inn somewhere and didn’t want to see me. Probably angry that I was late again. That was fine. I wasn’t sure how I’d react to one of her scoldings anyway.

Lucas was in the kitchen. He handed me a glass of whiskey. I sat at the table with him and drank it in one gulp. His dark brows went up.

“Bad day.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” I poured myself another. “You have no idea.”

He nodded as he sipped his first glass. “Terry has been acting up again.”

I glanced at him. “You knew?”

“I…hear things.”

“Great.” I drained the second glass. “How long has this been going on?”

“Never mind that. It’s not important. You should go up to Kate’s room before you can’t walk up the stairs and you pass out on the sofa.”

The bottle was in my hand. He was right. I had to see Kate.

She was asleep, thankfully. I started crying when I saw her face. I cried for her and the innocence of her childhood that I felt was lost. I cried for Jacob and for me. I struggled to remember why this shell of half-life was important. Most of the time, I’d rather be dead.