Dark Corner Part 45

Ahead, a fork of lightning stabbed an oak tree alongside the road with an eardrum-splitting crack! Hot branches flew like shrapnel, and the shattered, smoking trunk teetered and began to fall toward the road.

Jackson floored the accelerator.

"Watch out!" Tanya said, in a high-pitched voice. She covered her eyes.

In his peripheral vision, Jackson saw the giant tree falling toward him; it would smash the car to pieces if it struck them. But he could not have stopped if he'd wanted to. Adrenaline propelled him to push the engine to the maximum.

The oak missed the car's rear b.u.mper by only a foot. The tree crashed against the ground with such force that the car bounced a few inches in the air and rattled his teeth.

"Are you crazy?" Tanya said. "You could've killed us!"

"I ain't ready to die yet," Jackson said. "Got too much work to do tonight to have time to die."

Tanya opened her mouth, and he heard the beginnings of a first-cla.s.s cussout coming his way, but then she clapped her mouth shut, folded her arms across her chest, and slid down in the seat.

"Bet you'll ride with someone else next time," Jackson said. He chuckled. Maybe he was losing his mind. He couldn't really see the humor in the situation, but he couldn't stop the laugh from escaping him. He'd heard the saying that when things got tough, you laughed to keep from crying. Maybe that was what he was doing, laughing to keep from crying. Or laughing to keep from dying.

At home in the den, Jahlil discovered that almost all of his father's firearms were gone. The only ones left in the gun cabinet were Jahlil's own pump-action Mossberg shotgun, which he used for hunting, and a pellet gun that Jahlil had used as a kid to take target practice at soda cans.

A pellet gun, for G.o.d's sake.

"Dammit!" Jahlil slammed his fist against the cabinet door. "I betcha Dad gave all our s.h.i.t to the people on those patrol teams"

"Now what we gonna do, man?" Poke said. His face was greasy with sweat. "I ain't got no guns, my pops took all of 'em when he moved out"

"Figures," Jahlil said. He chewed his lip. Think! "Okay, look. We're gonna have to work as a team. I'll use the shotgun-"

"-man, that's bulls.h.i.t-" Poke said.

'-I'm not finished, all right?" Jahlil said. "Just listen. I'll use the gun, and we'll make some Molotov c.o.c.ktails. When we see a bloodsucker, I'll plug him, to slow him down, and then you'll light him up with the c.o.c.ktail. We'll be like a tag team. Get it?"

"h.e.l.l, naw," Poke said. "I need me a motherf.u.c.king gun. Why you get to carry the shotgun?"

" 'Cause it's mine," Jahlil said. He offered the pistol to Poke. "Use this. It's better than nothing. Carry it for backup. All any of these guns can do is slow down these bloodsuckers anyway, they won't kill them"

"I'm gonna get me a real piece before we're through," Poke said. His lips curled in disgust, Poke s.n.a.t.c.hed the pellet gun from Jahlil and holstered it in his waistband. "Gimme some ammo, man"

In the ammunition drawer, the only ammo left was for the pellet gun, and the Mossberg. He scooped up two handfuls of pellets and handed them to Poke, then loaded the shotgun. Once it was loaded, he unzipped his duffel bag and dumped the remaining ammo inside. The bag already held a flashlight, a knife, a first aid kit, and several books of matches. Jahlil wanted to be prepared for anything.

Thunder rumbled. Poke checked outside the window.

"What do you see out there?" Jahlil said. Night had fallen, and someone might attack them at any second. "Someone coming?"

"We got a storm coming," Poke said. No sooner had he spoken the words than a gale of wind skirled around the house. The ceiling light in the den wavered.

"Go to the kitchen and get some candles," Jahlil said. "They're in the drawer by the refrigerator. We can't be without light. We still have to make those c.o.c.ktails."

"Got it." Poke shuffled to the stairs. Did he have to walk so slowly? Jahlil wanted to put his foot up his a.s.s to get him moving. Well, they'd always called him Poke for a reason. He moved like a slug.

Jahlil was starting to get a headache. It was the same kind of pounding-behind-the-eyes pain that he would get whenever he was taking an exam for which he hadn't studied. It was solely due to stress.

The screaming gust beat a tattoo against the walls. Thunder steamrolled across the night, and Jahlil saw flickers of lightning coming in through the curtains, as though someone were taking photos outside.

"Man, hurry up!" Jahlil said. He didn't like being alone down there, not when he understood what awaited them outdoors.

Poke returned to the den with a single, half-melted candle.

"Only found one in there" Poke shrugged. "Guess your daddy raided the crib of all the useful s.h.i.t today."

"No s.h.i.t," Jahlil said. "Well, let's go in the garage to make these c.o.c.ktail things so we can get out of here."

The door on the far side of the room opened into the twocar garage. Jahlil flipped the light switch beside the door. The light did not turn on.

Behind them, the light in the den winked out.

Jahlil cursed under his breath. Could it get any worse? Nothing was going their way.

"Gimme some light, man, hurry up," Poke said. He was so close that Jahlil could smell the Doritos on his breath.

Jahlil clicked on the flashlight. He struck a match and lit the candle that Poke clutched in both hands as though it were the Holy Grail or something.

Jahlil panned the light beam around the garage, searching for the red-and-yellow can of gasoline. It was in the corner, beside the John Deere lawn mower.

Jahlil picked up the gasoline container.

It really could get worse for them. The can was empty.

Junior could not wait any longer. He had to see Vicky Queen.

Ever since the medical people had pushed Vicky into quarantine and rolled her into the room at the end of the hallway, Junior had been unable to keep his attention away from her door. But it was too far away for him to peek inside. He would have to go back there to get a good look at her.

He just wanted to make sure she was doing okay, that's all. It wasn't as though his team needed him right now. One woman, named Maria, handled checking in all the sick people, and the rest of the group only sat around, talking about stuff going on in town. Things were going slow, but that might change soon. He wanted to see Vicky while he still had the chance.

Ron, one of the team members, winked at Junior.

"You're thinking about that woman, ain't you, Junior?"

"Huh? What woman?" Junior played dumb. He didn't like for people to know his business.

Ron smiled. "You know who I mean. Vicky Queen. The finest piece of a.s.s in this town. Don't be ashamed, I've been thinking about her, too"

"What you mean?" Junior asked cautiously.

"She's sleep like all the rest of these folks, man. How about we sneak back there and get a look at her t.i.tties? She got them nice, big, round t.i.tties, nipples like Hershey's Kisses. We can suck on 'em a little bit, you take one, I take the other-'

Junior seized Ron by his shirt and drove him backward. The back of Ron's head smacked the wall. The guy yelped, like a panicked puppy.

Junior's nose was only inches away from the man's face. "You stay away from Miss Queen! She ain't no ... no toy. Hear me?"

Ron's face went tomato red. He spluttered. "Let me go, man. I'm sorry, all right? I was kidding!"

"You stay away from Miss Queen, you pervert" Junior gave the guy a good shake, making his head thump against the wall again. Then Junior released him.

Ron moved away, smoothing his shirt with shaky hands. "You need to relax, man. What's wrong with you? We're supposed to be a team. Ain't nothing wrong with joking around"

Junior ignored him. He was slow, but he wasn't dumb enough to be fooled by this fella. Ron was a pervert Junior didn't realize how he remembered the word "pervert," but the word felt right when applied to Ron.

He looked down the corridor, at Vicky's door.

I'll go in therefor only a minute, he promised himself. I'll make sure she's okay, then I'll come back.

He put his hand against the quarantine doors.

Maria, stationed at the desk, raised her head. "Where you going, Junior? Quarantine's a restricted area. Medical staff only."

"I'll be right back," he said. "I gotta check on a friend." He pushed through the doors before the woman could tie him up in a conversation.

Although on his last visit to this section he had peeked inside each room, on this trip he was so focused on Vicky's doorway that he didn't bother to look anywhere else.

He paused at the threshold, wiped his face with a handkerchief. Quietly, he stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit. There were four beds inside, each of them layered with crisp white sheets, but Vicky was the last patient brought to quarantine, and had the room to herself.

She lay on the bed nearest the window. Light glowing from the lamp on the nightstand enveloped her in a soft golden aura.

The blinds were open to the night. Outside, lightning snapped across the sky, and thunder rolled.

Junior cleared his throat. "You awake, Miss Queen?"

No response. She did not stir, either.

Hesitantly, he approached the bed, his boots squeaking across the floor.

Although she was ill, wore no makeup, and had disheveled hair, she was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. Her lovely face was turned to the side, and one of her slender, copper arms lay across the bedsheet. Her skin was drained of its usual, healthy shine, but her full lips were soft and rosy.

It was impossible to believe that this gorgeous woman was going to change into a vampire one day. Junior couldn't believe it.

She looked more lively than she had only a short while ago, when she had first been brought to the hospital. Maybe the medical people had given her a dose of something to heal her.

She shifted, sleepily pulling away the sheet a little, as though she were too warm. Her movement partially exposed her firm, ripe cleavage that swelled underneath the thin hospital gown.

Ron's voice came to Junior's mind.

How about we sneak back there and get a look at her t.i.tties? She got them nice, big, round t.i.ttles, nipples like Hershey Kisses ...

Vicky's moist tongue slid out and glided across her lips. She moaned softly.

Cold sweat broke out on Junior's forehead.

"You ain't even gotta be awake to make my heart race, Miss Queen," Junior said. He exhaled.

He gently pulled the cover over her chest, in case someone nasty like Ron came inside to see her.

His hand brushed across her face. He felt her smooth skin. He tenderly stroked one of her lush eyebrows, ran his fingers through her long hair.

He remembered a time when he and Vicky had lived next door to each other, and they were both kids. Junior had been roaring down the sidewalk on his bike and had fallen off and skinned his knee, and Vicky, who had been playing with her dog, came over to him and cleaned his knee with her own saliva, then got him a Band-Aid ...

A scream s.n.a.t.c.hed him out of his reverie.

He shot upright. Who was hurt?

But it was only the wind. Outside, a gust hara.s.sed the trees and screeched around the building. As he looked out the window, a pulse of lightning stung his eyes.

He pulled the cord to lower the blinds. They clattered to the bottom of the windowsill.

"There we go," he said, turning back to the bed. "Now, you can sleep in some peace "

The words died on his lips.

Vicky Queen was awake, and she was smiling at him.

Chapter 19.

Franklin Bennett swam out of slumber, immediately conL sumed with a raging restlessness and an unstoppable urge to do ... something. Something he could not articulate. Not yet. But the nameless compulsion drove him to action.

He flung away the bedsheets.

He was in a hospital room. His gla.s.ses lay on a nightstand. He reached for them, as was his habit upon awakening-and paused.

His vision, without the spectacles, was hawk-sharp. He could clearly discern even a speck of dirt on the far wall.

He pursed his lips, confused.

What is happening? I am a patient here, it seems. How long have I been asleep? Days, weeks? I cannot recall. Most important, why am I here?

I cannot remember.

Perhaps he could remember, if he exerted the mental effort, but it did not seem worth the trouble. He was a prisoner to the urge that he could not elucidate. Satisfying the need was the only endeavor worthy of his attention.

He raised into a sitting position. The overstuffed chair be side the bed was empty, but Ruby had been sitting there only a short while ago. He smelled her lingering feminine scent.

Smelled her? What an odd way to determine his wife's whereabouts.