Part 17 (2/2)
His arms were enfolded around nothing.
His brain sizzled. Cold sweat trickled down his face. ”Scooter?” he whispered. His voice cracked, went haywire; his face contorted. ”Scooter? Oh Jesus... oh Jesus... don't bring the stick.” His eyelids fluttered. ”Don't bring the stick. Don't bring the stick! ”
Daufin stood at his side. She realized he was seeing into that dimension that she could not, and she said, very softly, ”Tell me. What is Scoot-er?”
He moaned. The spark plug fired, sputtered, fired; ghostly images of Scooter faded in and out on his lap, like scenes caught in a strobe light. His hands clutched at empty air. ”Oh dear G.o.d... don't... don't bring the stick,” he pleaded.
”Tell me,” she said.
His head turned. Saw her there. Scooter. Where was Scooter? The dark things in his mind were lurching toward the light.
Tears burned his eyes. ”Scooter... brought the stick,” he said-and then he began to tell her the rest of it.
26 The Creech House
”Found her walkin' right in the middle of the street, a block south of the church,” Curt Lockett explained.
”Just about knocked her flyin', but I put on the brakes in time.”
Sheriff Vance regarded Ginger Creech again; she was standing barefoot in his office, and from the door she'd left b.l.o.o.d.y prints. Must've slashed her feet on broken gla.s.s, he figured. Lord, she's ready for the funny farm!
Ginger's eyes stared straight ahead, a few remaining curlers drooping in her hair, her face a pale mask of dust.
”Swear to G.o.d, she scared s.h.i.+t out of me,” Curt said, glancing at Danny Chaffin. The deputy made another circle of Ginger. ”I was on my way to the liquor store. Know where a man can get a drink?”
”Liquor store's locked up,” Vance told him, rising from his chair. ”That was one of the first things we did.”
”Reckon so.” Curt rubbed his mouth and gave a nervous smile; he felt as if he were shaking to pieces, and finding Ginger Creech walking like a brain-blasted zombie hadn't helped his jitters any, either. ”It's just... y'know, I kinda need somethin' to take me through the night.” From the open collar of his wrinkled white s.h.i.+rt hung his newly discovered necktie.
”Ginger?” Vance waved his hand in front of her face. She blinked but did not speak. ”Can you hear me?”
”I'm lookin' for my boy,” Curt said. ”Either of you seen Cody?”
Vance had to laugh. He felt like he'd gone ten rounds with Celeste Preston thirty minutes ago, when he'd driven over to the Chaffin house on Oakley Street to pick up his deputy. He'd wound up explaining about the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p to Vic and Arleen Chaffin too, and Arleen had begun crying and moaning about it being the end of the world. Vance had returned Celeste to her car, and the last he'd seen of her she was driving westward in that big yellow Cadillac. Probably headin' for her hacienda and gonna hide under her bed, he thought. Well, n.o.body wanted her hangin' around here anyway!
”Curt,” he said, ”if you didn't sleep twenty hours out of the day, you'd be dangerous. Your boy raised h.e.l.l at the Warp Room around nine-thirty, started a gang fight that put a bunch of kids in the clinic-which, with all these hurt people we've got, Doc McNeil sure as s.h.i.+t don't need.”
”Cody... in a fight?” Time was all screwed up for Curt. He glanced at the clock, saw it had stopped at two minutes after ten. ”Is he all right? I mean...”
”Yeah, he's okay. Busted up some, though. He headed over to the clinic.”
Which meant a doctor's bill, Curt thought. d.a.m.ned fool kid! He didn't have the sense G.o.d gave a bug!
”Ginger? It's Ed Vance. Danny, hand me that flashlight on the desk.” He gripped it, flicked it on, and aimed it at the woman's sightless eyes. She flinched just a fraction, her arms stiffening at her sides.
”Ginger? What happened? How come you're-”
She gave a terrible shudder, and her face strained as if its muscles were about to burst through the flesh.
”She's having a fit!” Curt squalled, and backed across the woman's b.l.o.o.d.y tracks toward the door. Her gray lips trembled and opened. ”'The... Lord... is my shepherd, I shall not want,'” she whispered. ”'He maketh me lie down in green pastures. He... He leadeth me beside still waters...'”
Tears broke and ran, and she stumbled on through the Twenty-third Psalm. Vance's heart was pounding. ”Danny, we'd better get over to Dodge's house. I sure as h.e.l.l don't like the looks of this.”
”Yes sir.” Danny glanced at the gla.s.s-fronted cabinet that held the a.s.sortment of firearms, and Vance read his mind because he was thinking the same thing.
”Break out a shotgun for me,” Vance said. ”A rifle for you. Get 'em loaded.” Danny took the key ring from him and unlocked the cabinet.
”'I will... fear no...'” The words gripped in her throat. ”'Fear no... fear no...'” She couldn't make herself say it, and fresh tears streamed down her face.
”Curt, I want you to get Ginger to the clinic. Find Early and tell him-”
”Hold on!” Curt protested. He wanted nothing to do with this. ”I ain't a deputy!”
”You are now. I'll swear you in later. Right now I want you to do what I say: take Ginger over there and tell Early how you found her.” He took the shotgun Danny gave him and put a few extra sh.e.l.ls in his pockets.
”Uh... what do you think happened?” Curt's voice trembled. ”To Dodge, I mean?”
”I don't know, but we're gonna find out. Ginger, I want you to go with Curt. Okay? Can you hear me?”
” 'Fear no...'” She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again. ” 'Fear no...'”
”Ed, I don't know about this,” Curt said. ”I'm not deputy material. Can't you get somebody else to take her over?”
”Oh, Christ!” Vance shouted as his own raw nerves stretched toward the breaking point. Ginger jumped and whimpered and retreated from him. ”Here! I'll pay you to do it!” He dug into his back pocket, brought out his wallet, and flipped it open. The only thing in there was a five-dollar bill. ”Go on, take it! Go buy yourself a d.a.m.ned bottle at the Bob Wire Club, just move your a.s.s!”
Curt's licked his lower lip. His hand burrowed into the wallet and came out five dollars richer. Vance gently took Ginger's arm and led her out. She came along docilely, her feet leaving b.l.o.o.d.y prints and her strained whisper of ”'Fear no... fear no...'” sending s.h.i.+vers down the sheriff's backbone. Danny locked the door behind them and Curt guided the madwoman to his Buick, got her inside, and drove away toward the clinic, the tailpipe dragging and scratching sparks off the pavement. Vance drove the patrol car while Danny sat in silence on the pa.s.senger side with his hands clamped like vises around the rifle. Dodge Creech's house, made of sand-colored stucco with a red slate roof, stood near the corner of Celeste and Brazos streets. The front door was wide open. The sheriff and deputy could see the faint glow of candles or lamps within the house, but there was no sign of Dodge. Vance pulled the car to the curb, and they got out and started up the pebbled walk. About eight feet from the door, Vance's legs seized up. He'd seen one of Ginger's slippers lying on the dry lawn. A coldness was writhing in his belly, and the doorway looked like a mouth, ready to crunch down on him as he entered. From a great distance he thought he heard brutal young voices taunting Burro! Burro! Burro!
”Sheriff?” Danny had stopped at the door. ”You okay?” In the dim violet light Vance's face glittered with sweat.
”Yeah. Fine.” He bent over and rubbed his knees. ”Just old football knees. Sometimes they flare up on me.”
”I didn't know you ever played football.”
”It was a long time ago.” He was perspiring everywhere: face, chest, back, a.s.s. A cold, oily sweat. His career as a sheriff had been limited to breaking up fights, investigating traffic accidents, and hunting down lost dogs. He'd never had to fire a gun in the line of duty, and the idea of going into that house and seeing what had made Ginger Creech go crazy made his b.a.l.l.s crawl as if they were packed full of spiders.
”Want me to go on in?” Danny asked.
Yes, he almost said. But as he stared at the doorway, he knew he had to go in first. He had to, because he was the sheriff. Besides, he had a shotgun and Danny had a rifle. Whatever it was in there, it could be shot full of holes just like anything else. ”No,” he said huskily. ”I'll go first.”
It took all his flabby willpower to start walking again. He entered the Creech house, flinching as he cleared the hungry doorway. A loose floorboard mewled under his right boot.
”Dodge!” he called. His voice cracked. ”Dodge, where are you?”
They walked toward the light, through a foyer and into the living room, where a couple of oil lamps threw shadows and dust floated in layers from floor to ceiling.
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