Dark Corner Part 42

Nia was silent. She knew he was right. But he took no pleasure in being correct. He yearned to be an optimist in these circ.u.mstances, to believe that it was not going to be as bad as they thought, but to do so would be to ignore the cold dread that twisted his stomach into knots. The dread that they were going to face a horror that was worse than what they imagined. The dread that their well-laid plans were going to prove worthless. The dread that, by sunrise, all of them would be dead.

Junior was a member of the patrol team that was a.s.signed to the hospital. Before he reported to his post, he went home to pick up something he wanted to have with him during his watch.

As he pedaled across the road on his old Roadmaster bicycle, he kept on the lookout for monster dogs and vampires. He didn't see any, but night was coming soon.

He was frightened of what was going on in town, but he felt sort of responsible. He and Andre, after all, had dug open the cave and let those vampires out. They hadn't known any better at the time they'd done the job, but that didn't mean that they weren't responsible. Junior was obligated to volunteer for the patrol team. Andre was, too, but Junior was sure his cousin was somewhere getting high.

Junior didn't find it hard to believe in vampires. He'd seen the man in black, and he didn't seem like a normal man at all. Plus, Chief Jackson said vampires were real, and that was good enough for Junior. The chief was a smart man.

Pa's rusty Ford was parked beside the trailer. Junior set down his bike beside the steps. He noticed a green flyer tucked underneath the door. He picked it up and went inside.

The only light came from the small television. Pa was sprawled in the recliner, head tilted back, mouth open. His snores made the thin walls tremble. Cans of Coors beer stood on an end table five cans arranged in a pyramid. Pa had a strange habit of stacking up empty cans in weird structures and would pitch a fit if Junior moved them.

'Course, Pa was drunk, as usual.

Junior wondered whether he should wake up his father and tell him what was going on. He decided against it. Pa was impossible to talk to when he had been drinking, and Junior was in a hurry.

He went into his tiny bedroom and dug underneath the bed. He pulled out an old cigar box.

Inside the box, wrapped in velvet, gleamed a silver locket on a necklace. Mama had given it to him before she died. Opening the locket revealed a black-and-white photo of his mother when she was a young woman.

Junior never wore the necklace because he was always working outdoors and didn't want to lose it or get it dirty. If he had a job in a nice, clean office, he'd wear the locket every day.

He slipped the necklace over his head and tucked the pendant under his T-shirt, treasuring the feel of the cool jewelry resting against his heart.

He was ready.

He was about to leave the trailer when he turned and looked at Pa.

Would Pa wake up before morning? What if a vampire came for him while he slept?

It wasn't right to leave his father there, alone, with no information at all.

Junior had put the green flyer on the kitchen counter. The flyer talked about the "Health Emergency in Mason's Corner" and announced the town meeting. It didn't say anything about vampires, but it did have a phone number listed as an emergency hot line. Junior found a pen, underlined the number, and wrote "Call!" beside it in his shaky handwriting. He placed the flyer in a spot where Pa was certain to see it: inside the refrigerator, on top of a six-pack of Coors. It would be the first place Pa would look as soon as he woke.

Junior locked the door, then hopped on his bicycle and left to do his work at the hospital.

The "special mission team," as Chief Jackson had come to think of it, gathered in the parking lot of the police station promptly at seven-fifteen. The sixth team the backup group, which included Jahlil-was inside headquarters, sitting tight and handling phone calls.

Five minutes ago, Jackson had talked to Dr. Hess Green via cell phone. Although the doctor had every right to be upset with Jackson for how he had initially lied about what was happening in Mason's Corner, Green had put aside his anger and was doing an efficient job of picking up the ill. The doctor and his two a.s.sistants had taken six individuals to the hospital, and had three left to transport. Factoring in the nine people who had already been admitted to the medical center, that would bring the total of bitten people to eighteen. Eighteen potential vampires. Sweet Jesus.

Those are only the ones that we know about, too, he reminded himself. Not everyone in town had attended the meeting, and even among those who attended, he was sure that some of the people had declined to write the name of an ill person on the list. Jackson's confession about vampires notwithstanding, some people in town were suspicious of authority and anything that smacked of government intervention. They would keep their sick at home and care for them in secret, and would not realize their mistake until it was too late.

One of the toughest truths of serving in law enforcement was that no matter how hard he worked, he could not save everyone. Sometimes you showed up at the scene too late to prevent a tragedy; other times, you didn't receive a crucial tip until the damage had been done; often, the victims themselves were partic.i.p.ants in their own demise, refusing to call police when they most needed to, or ignoring the helpful advice that you gave them. Accepting that he could not save the world had been a difficult lesson for Jackson to digest, but once he did, his life got much easier. Nevertheless, at a time like this, he wished he could impose martial law for the town's own good.

And wouldn't that move win him favor when the time came for his annual performance review! The county sheriff and the mayor had already reprimanded him for his "ridiculous" speech at the church, and made it clear that if the s.h.i.t hit the fan, he was going to take the heat. But interestingly, they did not intervene. Jackson understood why: they were scared s.h.i.tless and wanted him to do the dirty work. He didn't mind. He wanted them to stay out of his way.

He wanted his loved ones out of the way, too. After the meeting, he had asked Belinda Moss to leave town for a few days, for her own safety, and she had agreed to stay with her brother in Memphis. As for Jahlil, he had a.s.signed him to the back-team stationed at police headquarters. He hoped his son stayed put and didn't try to be a hero.

David came up to Jackson. Jackson was more impressed with the kid at every turn. He had handled himself well when pulling together the citizen defense teams, guiding them with calm authority. Jackson had heard from his own father that the Hunters were some tough b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, and this one here was making good on the family's reputation.

"Looks like everyone is here," David said. He looked at the dimming sky. "Night sure is coming fast"

"I don't like the look of those clouds, either," Jackson said. "Thunderstorm's gonna hit soon."

There were seven of them on the team; Jackson liked to think it would be lucky for them. The team included himself, David, and Nia; old Mac, the grocery store owner and war vet; Tanya Lester, who coached volleyball and taught physical education at the high school; Ben Jones, a thick-bodied construction worker; and Bertha Clark, a square-shouldered, middle-aged lady who worked as a security guard at a casino in Tunica. A nice mix of folks.

The mood was jovial. They milled between the cars, chatting and joking. They might have been a bunch of friends on their way to bowling league night. Jackson had a good idea of why they were so upbeat: they were psyching themselves up for the horrible job that lay ahead of them.

"Time for us to round up," Jackson said to David. He walked to the center of the group. The friendly chatter ceased, everyone's face suddenly serious.

"Folks, it's time for us to do what we came together to do," Jackson said. "Got about an hour of daylight left. Not a lot of time, but enough. Everyone ready?"

"Yes, sir," they said, in unison. Old Mac saluted Jackson.

Mac owned a Dodge Ram pickup truck. Jackson asked him if all of them could pile inside the truck, and Mac was happy to oblige.

"Everyone 'cept me and Hunter climb up in Mac's truck," Jackson said. "Put our equipment in there, too. Hunter and I are gonna lead the way in my patrol car."

The crew loaded the duffel bags and weapons in the cargo area of the pickup and then climbed in, two people inside the cab and the other three sitting on the flatbed. Jackson and Hunter got in the cruiser.

The two-vehicle caravan pulled out of the parking lot and onto Main Street, heading east, toward the Mason place.

"Need to talk to you 'bout something, that's why I wanted you to ride up with me," Jackson said. He was figuring out how to work his way into this discussion. He was about to ask Hunter a favor he had never asked of anyone.

"What's up?" David said.

Jackson spoke carefully. "Got an idea about why you came to our town in the first place. You're looking to learn about your daddy, a reasonable thing for a boy to want to know. Am I right?"

"I don't know where you're going with this, but yeah, you're right. That's why I moved here"

"I got a point to make, hang on. What I'm getting at is, you understand how important it is for a father and his boy to have a good relationship. Ain't nothing like a strong bond between a father and son. Even if a boy ain't had the benefit of a decent relationship with his daddy, one day, he'll usually wish he had. Know where I'm coming from?"

"Too well," David said. Pain flickered in his eyes. Jackson had yanked a nerve.

Jackson returned his attention on the road. "My boy and I, we don't get along too well. Cancer took my wife a couple years ago, and things ain't been the same since with us. Can't figure out what I'm doing wrong. He'd rather hang out with his knuckle-head friends than spend a minute with me. Grades been low; he don't wanna work nowhere. I try to talk to him and it don't do any good."

"Lots of teenage boys go through that phase," David said. "He'll grow out of it."

"Maybe he will, if someone's around to catch him when he stumbles every now and then," Jackson said. "But if ain't no one there for him, no telling what can happen. In my line of work, I see what happens to young men who ain't got no guidance."

"I don't get it," David said. "You're here for your son, even though he doesn't appreciate it right now. But you'll be there when he needs you"

"That's what I'm getting to. Listen, I don't know you that well. But I'm a d.a.m.n good judge of character. You're a good man, Hunter. I might be out of line asking you this, but I ain't got no one else I can ask. My family's scattered around here and there, and we don't really talk much"

"What do you want me to do?" David said.

Jackson's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "If I don't get through the mess that we're trying to do here, I want you to look out for my son. I'm not asking you to be his daddy. Be his friend, a big brother. Check on him sometimes. He's gonna need someone like you around, Hunter. He doesn't know it yet, but he will."

His eyes thoughtful, David gazed out the window. They rode in silence for a minute.

"Okay," David said. "If it comes to that, and I hope to G.o.d it doesn't, I'll do it."

"Appreciate it." Jackson's grip relaxed on the steering wheel, and he enjoyed a momentary sense of relief.

The tension returned, but for a different reason, when his car began to climb the steep hill on the eastern edge of town. Ahead, at the crest of the rise, Jubilee loomed.

"Is it only me, or does the house look bigger?" David said.

"It ain't only you. I feel it, too. That's fear talking to us, Hunter. Frightening things look bigger sometimes. Makes you sort of feel like a kid again, doesn't it?"

They turned onto the road that ran in front of the property. When Jackson and Jahlil had left this place, a few hours ago, Dudu's patrol car had been stuck in a ditch.

The car was gone.

A crazy image, disturbingly vivid, flashed through Jackson's mind: Dudu, his face pale and bloodless, dragging himself to the vehicle, getting in, and cruising around town, fangs dripping with saliva, clawed hands flexing on the steering wheel...

Cut it out. Pearl said Dudu was dead.

He looked around. Then he saw the deputy's cruiser. It was parked near the mansion.

What the h.e.l.l? Who had moved the car? Frowning, he parked on the shoulder of the road. Mac parked behind him.

The wind harried the surrounding trees. Distantly, thunder grumbled.

"Be careful getting out," Jackson said. "Remember those dogs I told you about"

"Gotcha."

Jackson checked to ensure that his .357 was loaded, then he climbed out the car.

It was time to roll.

David's impression that Jubilee looked larger was not a temporary illusion. The mansion genuinely appeared to have grown bigger since he had last seen it, like a magical evil castle in a fairy tale. The rooftops seemed to pierce the underbelly of the stormy sky.

"The house looks huge, doesn't it?" Nia said, when she got out of Mac's truck.

"You know, I really hope you're able to read my mind like this when this is over," he said.

Together, the team unloaded the cargo from the pickup's flatbed. Mac strapped the handheld flamethrower across his shoulders, the fuel-filled cylinder tanks weighted on his back. Back at the station, Mac had taught David how to use the flamethrower. There was always the possibility that Mac would be injured-or worse-during their mission, and David thought it was a good idea for someone else to understand how to wield the powerful weapon.

Each team member carried a handgun; Jackson had made sure that each person on this crew would be armed. They took the water guns, too, holstering them in their pants.

"I feel like I'm in a horror flick," Ben said. He winked at Tanya, the gym teacher. "I've been told that I favor Wesley Snipes, you know."

"Then you woke up," Tanya said. They laughed.

"No more time for jokes," Bertha Clark said. "It's getting dark. I don't want to be in there at night."

"Then let's hurry and hammer out our plan of approach," David said. He was getting antsy, too. It was already a quarter to eight, and the thickening blanket of storm clouds was another ominous sign.

They congregated on the side of the road, opposite the estate's iron gates.

"How do we wanna take down this s.h.i.t hole?" Mac said. "I'll take the point, 'cause I got old Suzie here and don't none of you wanna get in her way. Everyone else can follow after me ""

"How about we send a scout to check out the place?" Ben said.

"Bad idea," Jackson said. "We lost my deputy that way. I ain't letting n.o.body go up there alone."

"The deputy went inside through a door on the side or the back of the house, according to Jahlil," David said. "He never came out. I vote that we go through the front door. Some of the other doors might lead into traps. Once we get inside, we'll split up, and go floor by floor."

"All right," Jackson said. "Let's move, folks."

Here we go, David thought. We're moving past the point of no return.

David pushed open the gate. He motioned for Mac to enter first. Everyone else filed in behind him.

They walked on the gravel lane that twisted toward the house. David and Nia were side by side, Ben and Tanya were paired together, and Jackson and Bertha brought up the rear.

"There's dog s.h.i.t all over the place." Ben wrinkled his nose. "Sure am glad I wore my work boots. I should've brought a gas mask, though"

Large, stinking clumps of excrement littered the yard and the path. But other than the c.r.a.p, there was no sign of the vampiric dogs. Dense shadows lurked under the trees, and the area was silent, the only sounds the blowing of the wind, the faraway rumble of thunder, and their footsteps crunching through gravel.

"I'm doing the very thing I said I'd never do again," Nia said, close to David. "Going back to this place." Her hands gripped the gun so tightly it seemed that her veins would burst.

They pa.s.sed under the boughs of the giant tree from which, according to Franklin's history lesson, Edward Mason had been hung by his slaves and left to swing in the wind.

A chill chugged through David.

A police car was parked at the end of the driveway. Dried mud streaked the fenders, tires, and doors.

"My deputy's car," Jackson said. "Was stuck in the ditch by the road back there earlier today. I don't know who the h.e.l.l moved it up here" He peered through a window. "Ain't nothing out the ordinary in there. Let's keep on ""

David noted that the Lexus SUV was gone. Did that mean anything?

They trudged forward. Mac set his boot on the sagging veranda step.

"We should burn down this place," Nia said. "There's no reason to go inside. Just burn it down"

"I wish we could," David said. "But you know we can't. Not yet"

They ascended the short flight of porch stairs and huddled outside the door.

Dead leaves and branches covered the veranda's hardwood floor. Vines of kudzu twined around the thick white columns.

David picked out the column against which his father had leaned when he took the photograph. In spite of everything he'd learned since he'd found the picture in the living room, he wasn't much closer to understanding his father. He wondered whether it mattered anymore.

The front door of the mansion was like the entrance to a vault.