Ten Plagues (21 page)

They settled in again, and Keren was just fighting off the urge to look at her watch again to see if it’d been two hours or two minutes when they heard the first rumble of thunder. Keren groaned. “Rain. That’ll make this real pleasant.”

Paul didn’t respond. The wind came first with a few light gusts, then it began whipping up. Lightning danced across the sky. Keren pulled a blanket around herself and handed Paul one.

A bolt of lightning lit up the park. Thunder rolled and the storm drew closer.

While they shifted around, Paul asked, “Do you suppose these bushes are the tallest things around?”

Keren growled at him, “Thanks. I hadn’t considered being struck by lightning.”

“Worrying about it oughta keep you awake anyway.” Paul laughed softly, and, as if to reward his teasing, the lightning became wilder, the thunder exploded around them, and the wind cut through, even with the small copse of trees and bushes to protect them.

Keren was no longer so concerned with their voices carrying thanks to the pounding thunder. “You know, if he were coming, this weather might change his mind.” She watched all the night animals desert the park to seek shelter. Because she was watching them so closely, she was completely focused when, at the top of the rise at the far end of the park, lightning flared and silhouetted a man against the buildings. A man carrying something that looked very much like a body in a loose-fitting white dress.

“That’s him!” She threw off the blanket. “C’mon.” She ran. The lightning flashed again and she saw him. He was setting the bundle down gently, almost reverently. He fell to his knees beside the body as if to pray before the world went dark again. Keren did her best to set a world speed record.

Paul came alongside her. She hissed, “Do you see him?”

“Yes!” Paul passed her.

The thunder and lightning were coming at the same time now. Another bolt of lightning showed the man with his arm reaching high in the air over the body. Until now Keren and Paul had been running silently, hoping to close the distance between them and the killer.

But they were out of time. Paul shouted, “No!”

Keren reached for her gun. She’d have to shoot uphill and run at the same time. And if her bullet went wild, who knew where her shot might land.

The man held his hand high. He looked toward the sound, maybe unsure if he’d heard a voice in the crashing thunder. He saw them, and, when his eyes landed on them, Keren knew it was Pravus. The demonic evil in him washed over her until she wanted to cry out with fear. Instead, she ran straight into the face of evil, prepared to fire if she had to.

The man held his hand aloft. When the next bolt of lightning brandished, Keren felt the palpable cruelty as Pravus laughed over the wicked thunder. LaToya was clearly illuminated, lying motionless at the top of the slope. Pravus looked at them, as if to be sure they were watching, then he slashed his weapon down with brutal force.

Keren cried out, even as she knew it was too late. “No! Please, no! No! No! God!” She fired her weapon, aiming for the ground just off to the side of her target.

As his arm descended, Keren’s shot diverted Pravus’s attention for a split second. Or maybe it was her prayer.

LaToya, who a moment before had seemed as still as death, wrenched herself sideways, and Pravus’s killing blow missed.

Paul shouted, “She’s alive!”

Pravus screamed and grabbed at LaToya. She threw herself sideways until she rolled down the hill from him.

Paul and Keren were closing the distance fast. Pravus screamed in frustration and leaped to his feet. He threw the weapon at LaToya, in one last desperate attempt to be granted the victory of killing her. Keren fired again and Pravus turned and fled. Paul got to LaToya’s side first. Keren slid to her knees beside them. LaToya lay unmoving on her side; a sculptor’s chisel protruded from the center of her back. Blood flowed from the wound. Keren shouted over the storm, “Call an ambulance!”

As she knelt there, scrambling to find a pulse, she felt the ground turn to life under her. LaToya’s body crawled with something living. Keren realized something squirmed under her. The sky lit up and she saw frogs—hundreds of little frogs crawling and hopping over every inch of the ground.

Paul shouted, “I’ve got a heartbeat!”

Their eyes met over LaToya’s battered body. Paul snarled, “Give me your gun.”

“My job, Rev. Call for backup and get an ambulance out here.” Keren jumped to her feet and ran after Pravus.

“Keren!”

Keren shouted over her shoulder, “Don’t let her move. That chisel might have hit her spine.” She ran in the direction Pravus had gone. She could feel him. She knew unerringly which way to go. She shouldn’t go after him alone. It was completely against procedure, but she couldn’t stand to let him go without pursuit. Stopping him was too important.

The park ended in a rundown neighborhood that led to Paul’s mission.

Keren dashed up an alley that vibrated with Pravus’s presence. Normally she would have slowed down and gone into the pitch-black alley carefully, but she heard pounding footsteps ahead, still running. She came out the other end of the alley, ran across a deserted street, and disappeared into another alley. She thought she caught sight of movement ahead of her. She picked up her pace. As she came out of the dark bowels of the back alley, she heard a car roar to life through the next alley. She ran across the street and dived back into the darkness, putting every ounce of strength she had into getting there, getting her hands on him, getting off a shot, at least getting a look or a license plate. She barreled out of the alley, and twin headlights bore down on her.

Unable to stop her forward motion, she hurled herself up. The car hit her feet. She landed with a bone-cracking
thud
on top of the car. She rolled, bounced on the trunk, and slammed onto the unforgiving pavement. With a sickening
snap
her skull hit concrete. Tumbling, she clung to her gun until she stopped.

With pure willpower, she rolled onto her belly, focused on the disappearing car, and fired at the rapidly disappearing vehicle. No light shined on the license plate. She heard glass break and a taillight went blank. She unloaded her weapon at the car, then it skidded around a corner, and in the streetlight she made out the shape of the lights and the silhouette of the car, a sedan. Dark. Four doors.

They’d said the car Murray was driving was a dark-green Malibu. Keren thought this might be it.

It sped around a corner, and Keren shoved against the pavement, to go after him.

She made it as far as her knees before her head began to spin. She stared at blood dripping onto her hands and had a vague idea that it wasn’t a good sign.

She was only distantly aware of the lightning and thunder as the storm broke and rained down on her collapsing form.

Paul couldn’t leave LaToya’s side. He gave the 911 operator directions with his cell in one hand while he tried to stem the gushing wound in her back and hold her still with the other. An ambulance siren sounded in the distance.

“Hurry,” Paul prayed as he carefully avoided touching the chisel, afraid he’d make it worse. How could it be worse? He laughed harshly. It wasn’t a sound he’d heard come from himself for five years. But he recognized that cynical cop laughter well.

He felt something crawling inside his shirt but he didn’t have a hand to spare for himself. The creeping feeling of the trapped frog seeped into his guts and filled him with loathing.

The blinding lights of the ambulance swept across the park. Following Paul’s careful directions, it drove straight out onto the grass and sped toward them.

LaToya’s pulse was weakening. Her breathing was so shallow he had to lean right next to her mouth to hear it. The rescue squad skidded to a stop. Paramedics raced toward him. He thanked God for the rapid response. They pushed him aside. He yelled instructions about the chisel.

“I’m here with a police detective. She went after him,” Paul shouted at the first responding paramedic. “You have to keep it quiet that she’s alive.” He grabbed her arm and shook the poor woman until she threatened to belt him. Then, knowing he had her attention, he said, “The man who tried to kill her is the serial killer who blew up that building last week. He’ll come after her if he knows she’s alive.”

With soothing tones that Paul knew she practiced, the woman said, “We can put out the word she died. I know the guy you’re talking about.”

“What is this crawling all over her?” one of the paramedics asked, his voice strangled with horror.

“Frogs,” Paul said hoarsely. “Last week it was a plague of blood. This week is a plague of frogs.”

The paramedic who asked made an inarticulate sound of disgust.

“Where are you taking her? What hospital?”

“We’ll go straight to Cook County,” the woman medic said.

Paul said, “I’m here with a police officer. She chased the man out the south side of the park. I’m going after her!”

The sound of gunfire froze everyone in their tracks. Paul whirled to face the direction of the sound. The direction Keren had run.

“Wait for the police, sir! They’re equipped to handle this!”

“Just don’t let anyone know she survived. Please. Send the police after me.” Paul turned and raced in the direction Keren had gone. The sky opened up and poured.

Paul sprinted toward the shots, sick at heart from what he might find. He heard a car roaring away and tore down one alley after another. He almost tripped over Keren, lying unconscious on the pavement. He had his cell phone out for the second time in minutes, calling for help.

Blood coursed down the side of Keren’s face. The rain pelted her and turned the trail of blood into a red river. Paul fumbled at her wrist for a heartbeat and, when he found a strong, steady pulse, he relaxed for just a second. Her breathing was even and deep. He started checking her for gunshot wounds. It was so dark that he had to wait for lightning to flash for him to see. She had her gun still clutched in her hand, and he pried it free and checked the load. He’d counted the shots. He knew her gun’s capacity and that she’d keep it fully loaded. It was empty now.

All the shots had come from her gun.

The bleeding on her head must be from a nasty scrape, not a bullet. A welt the size of an egg was swelling up from under the scrape. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to the rain to wet it then pressed it against her head to staunch the bleeding.

Paul ran his free hand over her inert form and found no more blood, except on her hands, which were grated raw. He did his best to check for broken bones, and when he found none, he gently held out her hands to the rain to rinse away the worst of the dirt and gravel.

He noticed movement in the alley across from them. All they needed to end this dreadful night was to be mugged. He glared at the alley, hoping he would finally have the chance to do more than just call for help. He had a visceral need to fight back.

Keren distracted him when she moaned softly. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

“Keren? Keren, did he shoot you?” He knew the answer but couldn’t stop the panicked question.

“No,” she groaned, trying to sit up. “I shot
him!”

“Don’t move. An ambulance is on the way. You’re bleeding, honey. You’ve got to lie still.” Paul held her down with little trouble, because she was still semiconscious. Trust Keren to fight the world standing on her own two feet, even when she was battered and bleeding.

She said in a husky voice, “I’m drowning.”

Paul realized the now-pouring rain was hitting her right in the face. He leaned over her to shelter her with his body. “Did you really shoot him?”

“No!” she snarled, then she tried to sit up again. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t see anything! I shot at him and I got a couple rounds into the car, but I didn’t even slow him down. They might as well get me a Seeing Eye dog!”

Paul held her down. Then he thought of something that might help. A little. “LaToya’s alive. The paramedics are taking her to Cook County Hospital.” A gust of wind blew the rain sideways so Keren got hit in the face. Paul leaned closer.

The distant sound of an ambulance told Paul help was on the way.

“Is she going to make it?” She sounded like knowing LaToya was alive really had made her feel better.

“I don’t know. But she’s got a chance. Thank God, she’s got a chance.”

“Will you pray with me, Paul?” Keren asked. “Pray for LaToya?”

“I’d love to pray with you.” Paul began speaking to the Lord. “Dear God—”

“Wait a minute,” Keren interrupted. “Something is crawling around inside my clothes.” She reached under her shirt.

Paul realized he had a few wiggly spots, too. “Frogs.”

Keren shuddered. “Gross.” She tossed one frog out and went back after another.

Paul said doubtfully, “Maybe we’d better keep them. They might be a clue.”

“Can you store them in your shirt?” Keren groaned. “I’ve had about all I can take for one night.”

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t mind amphibians in my clothes.” Paul thought gloomily that this was what chivalry had come to. He caught the frogs as she extracted them. She found two, he found five on himself. He gently bundled them up in the front of his sweatshirt.