Part 14 (2/2)
”Yeah,” I agreed. ”I guess we can't stall any longer.”
People gathered in the street and peeked out their windows and doors, watching us leave with the same interest usually reserved for car wrecks along the highway. And who knows? Maybe that's all we were to them. Maybe they figured that we wouldn't be coming back and they wanted to witness our death march.
Dez grabbed my arm as we pa.s.sed him. His body odor nearly knocked me over. It burned my nose and made my eyes water.
”Don't go past the runes,” he whispered. ”Don't break the pattern.”
I shrugged him off. ”What are you talking about?”
”You know what I'm talking about. I heard your speech.”
Cranston, T, and Anna slowed to listen to our exchange.
”Weird guy,” Anna muttered. ”I hear tell he's a Satanist or something.”
”f.u.c.king r.e.t.a.r.d is what he is.” T chuckled. ”Know what I'm saying?”
If Dez overheard them, he didn't react. I wondered if he was used to hearing such taunts and derision. I'd seen people making fun of him many times before.
”I put the runes at the four points,” Dez told me. ”North, south, east, and west. Then I put more at the points in between. It makes a line. An unbroken line. A pattern. The runes hold the darkness back. It can't cross them. But you shouldn't cross them either.”
”You're talking about the graffiti on the road? Holy s.h.i.+t! You did that?”
Smiling, he nodded. ”I knew the words. I made a barrier.”
”Is that what the picture is supposed to be?”
”All magic is just words and names. Runes are words.”
”I don't understand, Dez.”
”That's okay. n.o.body else does either. I understand for everyone. I have to.”
Scowling, Anna muttered, ”Witch.”
She and T walked away. T seemed to have already forgotten about Dez, but Anna glanced over her shoulder and delivered one last jab. ”G.o.dd.a.m.n Satanist is what you are.”
Dez pouted. His bottom lip quivered. He looked like he was getting ready to cry.
”Are you okay?” I asked, feeling bad for him.
He nodded.
”Look, they didn't mean it. Okay? Everyone is just scared. Fear makes people say things that they don't mean.”
Dez wiped his nose with his hand, then wiped his hand on his pants.
”It's not fear,” he said. ”It's not fear that makes them mean. It's the darkness. He Who Shall Not Be Named.”
”Robbie,” Russ called, ”let's get going before we start to lose our nerve.”
I cast one last glance at Dez, and then I turned away and walked on. Cranston hurried to catch up with me, and he cast a wary look over his shoulder.
”He still back there?” I asked.
”Yeah, man. He is. And he's crying.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
None of us had a vehicle big enough to carry the entire group, and I didn't want to waste any more time by sending folks back home again to retrieve their cars. I was worried that if we did, we'd lose even more volunteers. So in the end, we walked. This time, instead of going out to Route 711, we went to the vacant lot behind the half-empty strip mall on Tenth Street. All of us had working flashlights, and Drew had brought along his walkie-talkies, as promised. He and Clay led the way, holding tight to the dogs' leashes. The animals kept their noses to the ground, sniffing and tracking. Their tails wagged back and forth, and their ears were up. They seemed happy.
”Them beagles will run off soon as we unleash them,” Clay said. ”They're good dogs, but let 'em get a whiff of a rabbit or a cat or something and they'll be gone like lightning. The black-and-tan would, too, except that he's too old. His joints bother him these days.”
He unleashed a stream of brown spit all over the road. Then, still holding the dogs' leashes with one hand, he stuck his index finger into his mouth and prodded a wad of snuff out from his bottom lip. He flicked the wet tobacco onto the curb, and with the practiced movements of someone who'd done this one-handed many times before, he fished a round can of mintflavored Skoal out of his back pocket, removed the lid, and put a fresh pinch into his mouth. I'd never liked smokeless tobacco before, but the smell teased my senses now. Remembering how good the nicotine rush from the cigarette Tony lent me had felt, I considered asking Clay if I could b.u.m a dip but decided against it. Last thing I needed to do right now was get sick off Skoal and spend twenty minutes throwing up behind the strip mall.
”You'd better slow down on that dip,” Drew told Clay. ”What are you gonna do if you run out?”
”That won't happen for a while. I got me a whole bunch of cans from the grocery store and the gas station. And my neighbor Dale dipped, too. He was one of those who never came back, so last night, I went into his house and got his supply, too.”
”You broke into your neighbor's home?” Cranston asked.
”h.e.l.l, no. Dale always kept a spare key under a lawn gnome he had sitting between his shrubs. I used the key. He always kept his Skoal in his refrigerator, so it'd stay fresh. He took his tobacco very seriously. I reckon he'd want it to go to a good home.”
Drew shook his head, as if ashamed by what he was hearing, but the grin on his face said something different. ”Stealing dip from a man's home. What's the world coming to?”
”I just said I didn't steal it, now didn't I?”
”Yeah, but it ain't like you asked Dale's permission either.”
”True,” Clay agreed, ”but I guarantee one thing.”
”What's that?” Drew asked, tugging on the dog's leash.
”I guarantee you I won't run out for a while.”
”Let's hope not. You're like a bear with a sore a.s.s when you have a nicotine fit.”
”f.u.c.k you.”
I tensed, expecting their tempers to flare, but that didn't happen. They bickered and teased as longtime friends do, but if the strange, emotional response we'd all been experiencing was affecting them, too, they didn't show it.
Russ and I walked behind them. Cranston dropped back to join Ms. Stevens (who told us to call her by her first name, Olivia), Clevon, and Anna, all of whom walked close behind us. Clevon was in bad shape-panting for breath and continually asking if we could stop and rest. Given what he did for a living, I got the feeling that most of his exercise was limited to lifting coffee cups and typing. T, Irish, Stan the Man, Mad Mike, and Mario brought up the rear. The occasion was solemn enough that Mario had put away his video game.
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