Part 15 (1/2)
Glen Jorgensen's features were grim as he began loading the rifle. What was going on outside was confirming the fear that was now pulsing through his veins. It was confirming the theory he had formulated through his reading of the past few hours.
Something was hunting the crabs. Something that had taken the village settlement nearly four hundred years ago.
Glen Jorgensen finished loading the rifle. He set the weapons by the window near the telescope. Then he went downstairs to his bedroom, found his heavy duty flashlight, and with the strong beam lighting his way, headed to the first floor. He checked the front door, making sure it was double-bolted, then went around the lower floors checking the windows and the rear door. He strode down to the bas.e.m.e.nt and made sure the windows down there were shut and locked. Then he headed back upstairs, gathered some food and water from his second floor apartment kitchen, reinforced the windows there, and headed back up to the attic.
Glen set up his watch command by the window. He hefted the rifle up and lowered it on the mantelpiece that sat near the window. Then he sat down, keeping a watchful eye out the window, looking out for what he knew in his heart was left to come, but praying to G.o.d that it wouldn't.
They wound up at the center of town by pure fate. They'd run back toward the beach and decided to try making a grab for Janice's car. Just when it seemed like they weren't going to get the chance to get the car because it was surrounded by Clickers, opportunity knocked when Janice's neighbors, a young couple in their mid-twenties, blew a couple of them away with their hunting rifles. That was when they seized the opportunity to make a mad dash for the vehicle. Rick took the wheel while Janice stayed in the back with Bobby, who remained curiously mute throughout the ordeal. Several Clickers came across their path, yet Bobby showed no physical reaction. Instead of numb fear or hysterics, he simply looked at the creatures in awe, as if wanting to know more about whatever it was that had hurt him.
They drove through town, tearing down the streets as the headlights of the car picked up what was going on: people running madly, hysterically; other people brandis.h.i.+ng rifles, pistols, baseball bats, running into the street in rage, beating and shooting the Clickers who seemed to scurry unheedingly. Rick had to take care not to swerve into either people or Clickers. Driving through Phillipsport on this night was almost like driving through downtown Los Angeles at rush hour.
They hit the center of town and Rick pulled up in front of the Sheriff station. People were running along the beach front with rifles, shotguns and handguns, shouting enthusiastically at each other. These f.u.c.king people are acting like it's a G.o.dd.a.m.n war or something, Jack thought. But then he mentally checked himself. It was a war; one against mankind by what he termed an alien invasion. Alien because as far as he could tell, he and everybody he had come across had never seen creatures like this before in their lives.
”Radio should be inside,” Jack said.
Rick nodded, looking around. There wasn't any sign of Clickers anywhere. The only Clickers around were dead.
Rick turned around toward the back seat. ”If the radio here doesn't work-”
Jack tapped Rick's shoulder and motioned out the window. ”Sheriff's here.”
Rick turned toward the window and saw Sheriff Conklin heading toward them. His clothes were slightly disheveled and damp, his grin c.o.c.ky and malevolent. He looked pale, panicked. The Sheriff limped toward the car and for the first time, Jack noticed that the right leg of his pants was stained a dark maroon. Most likely a Clicker, Jack thought as he traded a glance with Rick and shrugged. Both men exited the car.
Roy approached them, his grin fading as Jack noticed that most of the townspeople seemed to be ignoring the arrival of the Sheriff. They were all off on their own little worlds.
”Sheriff Conklin-” Rick began.
”Put your hands up!” Conklin barked.
”What?” Rick began, but he got no further than that when Conklin abruptly spun him around and shoved him against the car. Rick was momentarily stunned as he hit the side of the car with his chest, making it rock a little on its springs. Inside, Janice gave a startled cry. Rick moved to turn back and Conklin had him in a choke-hold, one muscular arm around his chest and throat, holding him. Rick struggled. ”Hey, what the f.u.c.k's wrong with you?”
”Stay the f.u.c.k down,” Roy muttered, throwing his weight into the hold, which pinned Rick to the car. Janice scrambled across the seat and emerged from the other side while Jack stood in numbed shock beside the car, his bony hands curling into fists as Roy brought his handcuffs out and snapped a cuff on Rick's left wrist.
”What the h.e.l.l are you doing?” Jack yelled. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
”You shut your face or I'll haul your a.s.s in, too,” Conklin said as he relaxed his grip slightly and pushed Rick against the car with his knee pressed into his back.
Janice was livid as she stormed up to the lawman. ”You c.o.c.ksucking pig!”
Roy calmly snapped the second cuff on Rick's right wrist. ”You want to join him, Miss?” Roy looked at her with eyes cold as flint. It was like looking into the eyes of a shark.
Rick was still stunned. ”What the h.e.l.l is going on here? Why are you-”
”Shut up!” Roy said as he hauled Rick up and began moving him off the street to the Sheriff's station.
Jack followed him a few feet behind. ”What are the charges?”
”No charges,” Roy said. ”There's a war going on and last time there was a war, men like him,” he shook Rick's shoulder with the tight grip of his hand, ”were the reason we lost. We're not losing this one.” He opened the door of the station and marched Rick inside. Jack stopped at the curb, staring vacantly at the gray facade of the building as Bobby's voice rose in the air. The boy was crying again.
Jack turned back to the car. Janice was in the backseat comforting her son who sniffled and sobbed. ”What did Rick do, Mommy?”
”Nothing, honey,” Janice said, trying to soothe her son. She stroked his head with her hand, smoothing hair back from his forehead.
Jack caught her attention and motioned inside. Janice nodded. Jack turned and strode into the office, more p.i.s.sed off now than when those things had stormed the beach.
He entered the lobby just as Roy was leading Rick down the hall to the cells. ”Okay now, will you please tell me what the f.u.c.k is your problem?”
Roy stopped and slowly turned his neck, casting Jack in his cold gaze. ”What was that?”
”What the f.u.c.k is your problem? Have you lost your mind?”
Roy took his pistol out of its holster and pointed the barrel at Jack's face. He c.o.c.ked the hammer. His eyes narrowed in cold slits. His face was stone. ”You know, Jack, I believe I have. Do you have any suggestions on how we can alleviate this problem?”
The rest of what Jack intended to say dribbled out of his mouth, spiraling away into nothingness. He raised his hands as if to ward off any antic.i.p.ated blows. His legs felt rubbery and his body suddenly felt light. He took an involuntary step backward.
”It's okay, Jack,” Rick said. ”Go back outside with Janice and Bobby.”
”Yes, Jack,” Roy said, keeping the weapon trained on Jack's face. ”Go outside and keep that s.l.u.t and her little brat company.”
Jack stood his ground for a moment as if rooted to the spot. He looked at Roy closely. The lawman's clothing was damp, almost sopping wet. It was disheveled, and his hair was even more matted. There was a tear in his slacks, the clothing itself stained badly. From within the tear he could see blood. The lawman's face was white, almost pasty, and his eyes were haunted and livid. His lips twitched as he stood before him, training the gun on him.
For the first time, Jack noticed that Rusty wasn't with the Sheriff. Where was he? The heavy sound of Roy Conklin's breathing and the mad, livid look in his eyes told him that something caused the Sheriff to become unglued mentally. There was no trying to reason with the man now.
He backed up slowly until he was at the door. Then he eased out the door outside onto the sidewalk.
Only then did Roy lower his gun.
Jack watched the rest of it from the sidewalk. Janice stood by the side of the car, calling out to him. ”What happened? What the h.e.l.l is going on?” He held up a hand to silence her and watched as Roy ushered Rick to the rear of the Sheriff's station. A moment later Conklin reappeared and headed toward a room off to the side.
It wasn't until Sheriff Conklin was out of sight that Jack went back to the car and told her that he thought Sheriff Roy Conklin had finally lost his mind.
”So you're sure you'll be all right here?” Jack had asked her this question for the third time and she was getting tired of it.
”I'll be fine, Jack,” Janice said. ”Now will you please go find Doc Jorgensen so he can try to clear this mess up?”
Jack nodded and glanced inside the car at Bobby. He smiled and waved. Bobby returned the wave. The smile took a bit more effort.
It had been Janice's idea for Jack to find Glen Jorgensen. If what Jack Ripley told her was true, then Sheriff Conklin had been injured worse than the flesh wound on his leg. She, too, had seen the mad expression in his eyes, and it scared her. She'd read about people who'd gone mad, and in the descriptions in all these works, usually the novels of Stephen King and Dean Koontz, the madman's eyes were livid, haunted somehow. Hollow, yet alive with some insane l.u.s.t. Sheriff Conklin looked like that now, as if he was possessed by some hidden force that had suddenly taken root. She'd never liked the man much, had always found him to be odd-but harmless. That oddness was now blossoming into something dangerous. And if the problem was medical-psychological from some hidden dementia, or physical from the loss of blood-she knew Dr. Jorgensen would be able to help.
”Are you sure you'll be safe?” Jack asked with growing concern on his features. ”Those things-”
”Bobby and I will be fine,” Janice said. ”If any more trouble happens, I'll get in the car and drive us over to Jorgensen's. Until then, I'm staying here until Conklin comes out. If he's lost it, maybe he'll listen to me. I've known him almost all my life.”