Ruin Falls (29 page)

He meant Cody, the new kindergartener. The rhythm of the school year—Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday in succession—had already begun lulling Earl into a state of complacency. Dispatch had told him about the little boy’s situation, but he’d just about forgotten.

Earl drummed his fingers on the warm dash. This was the oldest member of the fleet—just like him—and her dashboard was cracked and worn.
Oh, Nellie
, he thought,
let’s get out of this, and then we’ll retire together. One last ride, girl
.

He glanced at the road, wondering what eleven tons of metal would do to that little sports car, presuming he could keep the man from getting off a lucky shot. An unlucky one.

The children all seemed possessed by the same collective impulse at once. The ones on the left side unlashed themselves and scrambled over to the side where the man was standing.

They saw the gun, and their voices rose in a volley of screams.

Earl strode to the middle of the aisle and shouted to be heard over the screams. “Quiet! It’s going to be all right!”

Almost as one, the kids looked at him.

“But I need you to buckle into your seats—those over there, on the left. Crowd in three, four apiece if you have to. No one stays on this side.”

The side where the man was. He could walk around, of course, but Earl intended to give him a reason not to. Safer would’ve been to have the kids lie down under the seats, but not if Earl was able to drive off. Then the steep pitch of Wicket Road would send them all hurtling to the back of the bus in one broken crush.

“And lash ’em tight, not like you usually do,” Earl commanded. “You got that?”

All of the kids nodded except for Cody.

“You gotta stay quiet. Think you can manage that? If you can, then I promise you, we’re gonna be just fine.”

The kids began cinching in their belts, older ones helping younger.

“One more thing,” Earl said.

Everyone looked up.

“At least one of you has a cellular phone. I know you do.”

No phones at school was a rule, but the kids had been pushing the policy, especially over the last year or so.

“I do, sir.” An eighth-grade boy began digging around in his knapsack.

“Good boy,” Earl said. “If you can get a signal, call 911. Tell them we’re on Wicket Road. And make sure whoever you get stays on the line till we see the first police car drive up.”

He offered his flock a smile, and one by one, they smiled back.

Except for Cody. The boy was hunched over, small shoulders showing that he was crying without looking to stop.

“Somebody share his seat,” Earl said roughly. If he started trying to comfort the boy himself, he wouldn’t be able to leave him. And he had to get up to the front of the bus. “Tell him it’s okay, and his dad’s gonna be just fine, too.”

Earl was going to have to steer the bus over the obstacle in its way. It would mean entering the switchback at a bad angle, but Nellie could handle that. He looked out at the engine, thrumming under the hood all this time. His girl. After the missus, this bus had been the biggest constant in his life.

Earl sat down, shifting into gear while trying to calculate the physics, figure out how he could get up the most speed.

A sharp crack split the air. The man was outside the doors, so close that for a hallucinatory moment it seemed to Earl he had made it inside.

Earl’s heart clutched in his chest, hurting bad enough that he began to beg that being.
Please don’t take me yet. I’ve got these kids to protect
.

“That shot didn’t hit anyone,” the man yelled. “But the next one will. Give me my kid, or you can explain to someone else’s father why you let me kill him.”

A quaking cry came from the rear. “I’ll guh-go with you, Daddy!”

“Yes, that’s right, son. Everyone’s happier when they do what they’re told.”

“No!” Earl said. He looked around so fast that he saw pinprick dots. He could barely make out Brian Rudolph sitting beside Cody. “Rudolph, you don’t let him up, you hear?”

The children had gone quiet, unresponsive; their eyes were glazed and staring.

The man fired twice and the bus gave a groan, sinking down heavily on one side. He had shot out her tires.
Oh, Nel, I’m sorry
.

But another thought came hard on the heels of that one.

He doesn’t want to do what he says he’s going to do. I’ll bet he’s never killed anyone
.

Earl stood up. “I’ll come out. Okay? We’ll talk, man to man. Figure this thing out.”

He looked back at the children. Now was the time to get them under the seats.

None of them looked capable of moving.

And Earl guessed this man didn’t mean to give them much of a chance for maneuvering.

“I’m going to unlock the door,” Earl said. “But only if you move twenty feet back—”

“You old fuck. Nobody tells me what to do—”

“I said, get back!” Earl roared. “Because the next thing I’m going to do is get every single one of these kids to lie down. You’ll have to shoot your way through me to try and find your son. That’s if you can make it onto this bus. And the police are already on their way.”
Dear God, let the police be on their way
.

For the first time, the man looked uncertain. Then he took a few steps backward, gun thrust out to the side.

“That’s right. Keep going,” Earl said.

He looked up and down the road. Empty.

He twisted the key in the ignition, feeling the engine die with a shudder. Wouldn’t do to leave the kids on the bus, engine running, even crippled as she was.

Earl heaved back on the arm that opened the accordion door. He climbed down the steps, hiding the pain in his knees caused by the descent.

The man rushed him.

Earl surged forward, trying to drive the man as far away from the bus as possible. Pushing him backward like a tackle, every foot, every inch a precious bit of space away from the children.

The two of them went down in a ditch.

The gun felt fiery against Earl’s neck, heated from the man’s grasp.

Was that the hum of an engine?

And a silvery piping note. It sounded like a whistle.

Or was it sirens at long last?

Earl smelled exhaust that wasn’t diesel.

They were going to be okay. All of them. He and the missus, too. Once he got out of this, Earl intended to share the thoughts he’d been having lately, about the end, how fast it came upon you. The two of them would face it together.

They still had time.

The man fired.

Earl felt resounding pressure between them, then the weight on top of him was gone. Borne away or lifted or maybe left of its own accord, for he heard the slapping of feet.

“Daddy!” Cody cried from the back of the bus. “Where are you going?”

There came the sound of more beating feet, and then a roar, not of gunfire, or from an engine, but a human one.

“Stop and throw down your weapon! Now!”

“—went into those woods over there! Draw your weapon, Officer, and proceed—”

“Yessir, Chief—”

“Landry! Accompany him!”

There were too many voices for Earl to make sense of.

So many wonderful voices.

“Sir, are you all right?” He felt the press of two fingers against his neck. Then everything ramped up in urgency again. “Medic! I need a medic over here!
Now!
”

“Bus is clear, Chief—”

“What’s your name, sir?” said the voice beside him, a whole hand pressing down on him now. Hard. Too hard. It hurt.

“Don’t worry if you can’t tell me,” the voice went on easily. “You can just call me Tim. Can you hear me, sir?”

Earl thought he could.

“I want you to listen real close, because I’ve got something to tell you. You listening? Here’s the thing. I’m the Chief of Police and I have never lost a man. I don’t intend to lose one now. Sir, I hope you won’t mind my saying, but you accomplished a goddamn miracle here today, not a single child hurt. I want you to hang on for me, sir, hang on, can you do that—”

“Chief! Chief, stop. Move aside. It’s okay. We’ll take him.”

Earl stared up at the sky.
Thank you
, he mouthed to the being.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

A
fter Tim left, Liz sat back down at Paul’s desk, suddenly panicked. She’d experienced a certain degree of satisfaction at the idea of Paul sensing her at his heels, but what if he actually were checking email, and saw that she had learned about PEW? Might he leave the place where he had gone, take Reid and Ally even farther away? Liz forced a breath down. Wherever he was, Paul must be deeply entrenched, and Liz had the feeling that finding another such place wouldn’t be easy. Still, she went to her husband’s
Sent
items, and deleted the email to Tim.

The tab for PEW blinked at her, a jittery taunt. This group held the answers Liz was searching for, at least the live version of them did, but all she had access to were static statements and pixelated images. These people had her children, and Liz hated and envied them with a fearsome fury. Staring at the screen, she began Googling
shoemaker
, rage in every strike of the key.

Given the nature of PEW, Liz’s guess had been that the online identity was someone who cobbled things together. But cobblers repaired shoes, they didn’t make them. She continued scanning pages, coming to more and more far-fetched links. She stumbled across an announcement for a school play, and wondered if the town where the play had been performed might proffer some information as to the
Shoemaker’s identity. It was in Iowa. There was a link to an out-of-print title, a true crime paperback on a used book site, which Liz clicked on. She’d just begun skimming it when a new email came in. It was from Tim.

It contained ten numbers, and a message.

Mackenzie traced the phone that Ally used. Don’t use a landline—they might not pick up if the number is identified. Call from the pay-as-you-go.

Liz hadn’t had the chance to buy a temporary cell yet, and Wedeskyull had blocked the encroachment of most chain stores. She was going to have to drive all the way out to the Northway. Liz printed out Tim’s email, then raced downstairs and wrenched open the front door.

She covered the distance to Verizon, unable to recall a single length of road she had traveled, or any turn she’d made. Inside the brightly lit store, she ran for the counter. An array of devices was laid out in glass cases like pinned bugs.

“I need something I can use right away,” Liz told the guy behind the counter. “Do you have anything like that?”

“Sure.” The guy nodded. “Did you want a disposable? Or something you can renew—”

“I want any phone you have that will make a phone call!” Liz cried.

The boy took a step back. “Yeah. Sure. Take it easy, lady.”

He pulled out a drawer beneath the display case and removed a box. “This one’s the most basic model we’ve got. $29.99 plus tax.”

“Fine,” Liz said, desperation ragged in her voice.

Starting to hold the box out to her, the boy glanced up. Then he removed the device from its packaging, and keyed in a few numbers himself.

Liz put two twenties down, all the money she had in her wallet. She snatched the phone out of the guy’s hand, clawing Tim’s email out of her purse. She walked out, seeing nothing besides the keypad.

“Ma’am! Don’t you want your change?”

Liz banged open the door, entering the number Tim had sent.

The call went through, the signal strong in this spot.

Still, each ring was harder and harder for Liz to make out. Her ears were filled with the tinny notes. She pressed the phone so close to the side of her head that she felt the imprint of each key.

The generic voicemail prompt took a moment to register.

“No,” Liz said to no one. “Ally?” She spoke into the phone. “Are you there, Al?”

She stumbled backward to her car, hardly aware that she was climbing inside. She ended the call and tried again, comparing each digit to the ones in Tim’s email before pressing Send.

Nobody is available right now
.

Robotic, uncaring.

Please leave your message after the beep
.

“Hello,” Liz whispered into the phone. She coughed to clear her throat. “If somebody gets this, please call me. Please call me back at this number.” She quickly scanned the card that had come with the phone and read off the ten digits. “Or else this one.” She recited her real cell number in a voice as machine-like as the voicemail prompt. Tim would see if someone called on it. Liz added the only other thing she could think of. “Please.”

Then she sat in the lot, blind with disappointment, making no move to start her car.

The phone lay there blackly, taunting Liz with its refusal to ring. She idly pressed keys before registering the sequence she’d dialed: her own childhood phone number. Her parents hadn’t been in touch in the last several days; it wasn’t yet time for their biweekly check-in. Thinking of her mother—as good as a calendar—Liz hit the button to end the call before anyone had a chance to pick up.

No car had driven by in a while. Liz was all alone out here. She reentered the river of road, straddling lanes as her car surged forward.

Only when she crossed Lee Bridge with its arched metal humpback did she realize how close she was to the center of town. She had never apologized to Jill for how angry she’d gotten at Andy. Liz wondered if she could do it now, weighted down with loss as she was.

At least Jill had her son.

When the phone rang, she nearly sobbed with relief. “Ally?” she said into it, swerving wildly onto a side street. “Hello? Hello?”

“Elizabeth? Did you call from this number?”

Liz’s shoulders settled. She eased the car out of the way in case anyone else should come along, and shifted into Park.

“Are you there? Are you all right?”

“Yes, Mom,” Liz said into the phone. “I’m here.”

“Oh good.” Her mother’s voice didn’t usually contain much emotion, but it had risen for a moment. “How are you, dear?”