Part 36 (1/2)

He thrust those fears aside, but they kept trying to gnaw their way back in like little ravenous weasels. He would have to deal with them later, but not now.

Just looking at the fuel gauge told him they'd crossed the point of no return, probably way back when they'd come over the L.A. River. So there was nothing to do now but keep going, he thought, nothing to do now but give it the best shot Wesley Richer had ever given anything in his life. His palms were as cold and sweaty as the first night he'd stepped up on that stage at the Comedy Store, but this stage was a far more important one, and the hook that yanked you off would take you to your death ... or worse. But death wouldn't be so bad, he thought, not really, not when the alternative was to be like those things in the coffins. He'd already decided how to do it if that was the only way out-.45 barrel into the mouth and up, quick squeeze on the trigger, and boom! Jump the night train. Pull a Freddie Prinze. Hitchhike home in the hard rain. Suicide.

He only hoped he could take Solange with him.

ELEVEN.

Tommy's head was aching, and Palatazin had to stop to catch his breath. He sat beside the boy in the dark, foul clamminess of the tunnel while Ratty took the lantern and scuttled on ahead. In another few minutes they saw the light coming back, just a yellow dot at first and then a spreading beam. Ratty knelt down beside Palatazin. ”We're almost under Hollywood Boulevard. You okay, little dude?”

”Yeah. I'm fine,” Tommy said.

”How much farther to Outpost Drive?” Palatazin asked him.

”Not far. Then we start climbing if the tunnel's big enough. And you got to remember, I can squeeze into a whole lot of places you can't. You two ready?”

”Ready,” Tommy said, and rose to his feet.

Since crossing under DeLongpre Avenue the water at the bottom of the tunnel had increased from a slow trickle to what now seemed like a thick, muddy creek. The tunnel that Ratty had said ran underneath Sunset Boulevard was large and high, and it had amazed Palatazin that the lantern picked out spray-painted graffiti on the walls. At their feet slow currents moved around islands of brown sludge.

Now they came to two tunnels splitting off in opposite directions. Ratty paused for a minute, s.h.i.+ning his light around, and chose the right one. The ceiling dropped dramatically here, and they moved on with their backs bent. Occasional currents swirled over their shoes; the odors of sewage were nothing short of gruesome. Ratty splashed through the mess like a trout fisherman.

”Not far!” he called back, waiting for them to catch up. ”It's just through here. Hey! Watch it, little dude!” He shone the lights at gray rats scurrying protectively around a nest in a crack between two sections of pipe just above Tommy's head. All but two or three of the largest rats squealed and ran; they stared back defiantly, their eyes pink pinpoints. ”Sometimes they jump for your face,” Ratty said when they'd gone on past. ”They grab hold, you can't shake 'em off for s.h.i.+t. One time I woke up after I'd crashed on yellows and found two of the little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds tryin' to dig a nest in my beard!” Ratty stopped suddenly and sniffed the air. ”That's it. The big one under Hollywood.” They came to the end of the narrow tunnel and stepped out into another large one. At the bottom of this tunnel, the water was deeper, perhaps a foot or so, and swirled around every manner of dank, unidentifiable debris. Rats chittered in the darkness, and Palatazin could hear them splas.h.i.+ng in the water like birds in a birdbath. Ratty sloshed forward without hesitation, aiming his light along the far wall; there were more tunnel entrances over there, each one bleeding out little streams of water. ”Let's see now,” Ratty said, narrowing his eyes in thought. The light moved from one tunnel to the next. ”It's that one,”

he said, holding steady on the center entrance. ”Yeah. I'm pretty sure.” Tommy said, ”Don't you know?” His voice crackled with tension. Being down here reminded him of the movie Them, about the giant ants that had made a nest underneath L.A.

”Sure I know,” Ratty replied, and tapped his skull. ”Got the map right up in here. Just sometimes I tend to get a little confused, that's all.” He giggled suddenly, his eyes burning like blue lamps from the pills he'd popped.

”Let's go,” Palatazin said irritably. ”Come on!” Ratty shrugged and started forward. Tommy took three steps and felt his right foot slide over something softly hideous. He screamed and jerked his leg away, stumbling into Palatazin. ”What is it?” Palatazin said sharply. Ratty turned and shone his light down. A man's corpse was being laboriously pushed along by the westward currents. The rats were astride it, leaping and nibbling. Palatazin took Tommy's shoulder and pulled him away. They crossed the tunnel, walking faster, and entered the tunnel opening Ratty had indicated. The tunnel crooked to the right and grew steadily narrower. Palatazin walked bent over, his lungs rasping, and realized that Ratty's lantern was losing power. The beam of light had now dulled to a soft yellow. He could hear rats chittering behind them, closing up in their wake; he wondered how much more the boy could stand. But Tommy had made a man's choice, and now there was no turning back for him. More tunnels, some only holes a foot or less in diameter, branched off from the one they moved through. Water trickled and dripped, the echoes as disconcertingly loud as footsteps. They came to a metal-runged ladder. Ratty aimed the light up at a manhole cover perhaps twelve feet overhead. ”I better go up to find out for sure where we are,” he said, and gave Palatazin the lantern.

Palatazin nodded, and Ratty scuttled up quickly, shoving the cover aside. A weak amber light came down from the opening, and then Ratty had disappeared into the storm.

After a few minutes Palatazin said, ”Tommy, I don't think we're going to make it before they start waking up. It's already very dark up there. Too dark. When the sun's rays get weak enough, I'm afraid they'll start . . . prowling again.”

”We can't go back,” Tommy said.

”I know.”

”Will they all ... wake up at the same time?”

Palatazin shook his head. ”I'm not sure. Possibly not. There are so many things I don't know about them. The oldest ones may wake up first, or possibly the ones who are hungriest. My G.o.d, I hate to leave Jo unprotected-” He stopped suddenly because he thought he'd heard a sliding movement behind them. He shone the light in that direction. The light was too weak to reach very far, and the tunnel seemed layered with impenetrable shadows.

”What is it?” Tommy asked nervously, looking over his shoulder.

”I ... don't know. I thought I heard something, but . . .” Ratty appeared overhead and came down quickly. ”Okay,” he said, breathing heavily, his beard and hair full of sand. ”We're under Franklin Avenue, but we've got to go east a little ways to pick up the tunnel under Outpost. I'm not sure how big it's gonna be.”

”Just get us there,” Palatazin said, and gave him back the lantern. They moved on, the uneasy tick of time hammering at the back of Palatazin's skull. The tunnel crooked to the left, then to the right again, and grew narrower still. Seepage from the canyons sloshed noisily underfoot. Several times Palatazin said, ”Wait,” and they stood motionless while he listened. When Ratty aimed the light back, the tunnel was clear for as far as they could see.

They came to a metal screen blocking their way. Palatazin took the mallet from the pack and spent a few minutes hammering it to one side. Farther on the tunnel began to angle upward perceptibly; it veered again to the right, then straightened out and seemed endless. The ceiling dropped once again, and now even Tommy walked bent over. Palatazin, his spine already aching, stepped carefully to keep from slipping in the mora.s.s at the tunnel's bottom as water and debris flowed over his shoes.

And now he heard that noise again and turned, straining to see through the utter darkness. He was quite sure this time that he'd heard the m.u.f.fled noise of cold laughter quickly fading away. He made Tommy walk between himself and Ratty. The hairs at the back of his neck were standing on end now because he feared that there were vampires down here who were already awake, sealed off from any hint of the sun. Possibly they were terribly hungry, and their hunger had kept them from sleeping; possibly they roamed the sewers in packs looking for victims. He remembered the matches and the aerosol can in the pack and, as he walked, he slipped his hand in and touched the can. Ratty's lantern was getting steadily weaker.

The tunnel angled upward sharply. They started climbing.

TWELVE.

The house was filling up with darkness. It had come insidiously, relentlessly, and early. It was the hazed light that frightened Jo so much because she was so uncertain of when the vampires would awaken and from where they'd attack-the little house across the street? the one next to that? Over an hour earlier she and Gayle had heard the man next door crying out garbled prayers, then there'd been a long silence broken by a single shot. After that they didn't hear him anymore.

Now Jo sat in a chair away from the window, her face a grim mask. Her fingers moved around the small crucifix that hung from her neck, the gift from Andy. Gayle had pulled the curtains closed, but every few minutes she would interrupt her nervous wandering around the room to peer out at the thickening gloom. Sand sc.r.a.ped the gla.s.s like fingernails across a blackboard. Gayle kept Palatazin's .38 close at hand. ”Going to be dark soon,” she kept saying as if forcing herself to accept that inevitability. Every time she pulled back the curtains to look out, she steeled herself to expect a pallid, grinning face looking in.

Jo found herself drifting into memories-she could recall the first time she'd met Andy's mother, on their third date the night after a St. Stephen's Day festival. The woman had been friendly enough, but so quiet and withdrawn; her eyes had seemed washed-out and blank, and they'd seemed to stare right through Jo at something coming up from behind. Now she understood why. And then a fist slammed at the door.

Gayle jumped. She grasped the .38 and pulled it out of the shoulder-holster. She stared at Jo, her eyes widened into fearful circles.

The knock came again, two fast raps on the door.

”Don't answer it!” Jo whispered. ”Don't make a sound!”

”It might be Palatazin!” Gayle said, and turned toward the door, one hand going out for the k.n.o.b and the other gripped white-knuckled around the gun.

”NO!” Jo said. ”DON'T!”

Silence but for the hissing of the wind. Gayle slowly unlocked the door, turned the k.n.o.b, and opened it enough to look out. At first she couldn't see a thing, so she ft opened the door a little wider.

And then something from a Jules Verne nightmare stepped in front of her, a green-garbed monstrosity with huge bug eyes and a hoglike snout. Gayle cried out and brought the gun up to fire, but the thing reached in and grasped her j wrist. ”Whoa, Miss!” the thing said with a p.r.o.nounced Texas drawl. ”I'm Corporal Preston, U.S. Marines. I'd take it kindly if you'd remove your finger from that trigger.”

Relief flooded through her, weakening her knees. She realized the man was wearing an oxygen mask and goggles, and as she stepped into the house, she could see the tank on his back. The man closed the door, behind him and pulled his mask up. He was just a kid, really, with a lantern jaw and acne scars on his cheeks. He nodded toward Jo, who'd risen to her feet in amazement. ”How many people you got in here, miss?” he asked Gayle. .”Two. Just us.”

” ”Okay. There's a unit vehicle about three blocks from here. We're going to be getting you out. I couldn't find anybody in the house next door. Anybody live over there?” He motioned toward the madman's house.

”No,” Gayle said. ”Not anymore.”

”Okay. You two ladies just hang on awhile longer, you'll hear the truck coming.

You want to watch where you point that pop gun, miss.” He slid his mask back down and started for the door, taking a small can of orange Day-Glo paint from the inside of his jacket.

”We can't leave!” Jo said suddenly. ”We're . . . waiting . . .” The Marine studied her through his goggles. ”Ma'am,” he said patiently, ”everybody who can git is already gone, making tracks to high ground. I've got orders to evacuate all the folks I can find, and let me tell you, I can't find very many of 'em. What are you waiting for?”

Gayle said, ”There are two more of us. A man and a boy.”

”Oh. They went out in this storm, did they?”