He stood next to the car and held Mom’s hand, grateful she was acting so brave. Duncan knew it was an act. She had to be scared, too. But she was hiding it, and he loved her even more for being strong.
Duncan didn’t know how things went wrong so fast. He fell asleep in the car, and when he woke up, Josh and Woof were gone. It turned out Dr. Stubin wasn’t a nice guy, after all.
The two soldiers with them were dressed like Bernie, and they seemed just as mean. The big one—the one who was going to twist off Mom’s head—was even bigger than Kane on WWE. But the other one was even scarier. Duncan didn’t like how he kept looking at Mom, kept touching her.
Mathison didn’t seem bothered by any of this. He still sat on Duncan’s shoulder, picking though his hair. Duncan reached his hand up to rub the monkey’s belly. Mathison cooed. Duncan scratched higher, up Mathison’s chest. He felt the monkey’s collar, surprised at how thick it was.
“Stop touching the monkey.”
Duncan spun around, saw Dr. Stubin pointing his big shotgun at him, the one they’d put in the back of the car. Duncan’s hand dropped down, and he felt like he was going to pee himself.
Mom stepped between the gun and Duncan, pushing him behind her.
“Mathison!” Stubin barked. “Come!”
Mathison hopped from Duncan’s shoulder to Mom’s. He screeched, sounding pretty upset.
“Now, Mathison!”
Mathison climbed down Mom, but instead of going to Stubin he took off into the forest.
Stubin said, “Stupid primate,” and turned away from them.
Fran knelt down to Duncan’s level. She pushed his bangs out of his face. “It’s going to be okay, baby.”
“Where’s Woof?”
“Josh has him.”
“Is Josh coming to rescue us?”
Duncan watched his mother’s eyes get glassy, and her lower lip trembled. “If he can, I’m sure he’ll try.”
Another man dressed in black came walking out of the woods. When Mom saw him, she stood up and got very stiff.
“I’ve found a few antipersonnel devices and two cameras,” the new man said to Stubin, “and Logan found an exhaust vent disguised as a tree stump half a click east. He’s close. Underground somewhere.”
Stubin nodded. The new man looked at Mom and smiled.
“Hello, Fran. I was hoping we’d see each other again.” He licked his lips. “I can still taste you. Yum.”
Then the man stared at Duncan. Duncan trembled—it felt like he was looking at the devil.
“I bet you’re tasty, too,” the man said. “My name is Taylor. You must be Duncan. Did you have fun with Uncle Bernie?”
Duncan couldn’t help it; he started to cry. His leg was really sore, and he wanted to go home, but he didn’t have a home anymore because it burned down, and bad people kept trying to hurt him and Mom.
Between his sobs he heard his mother say, “We killed Uncle Bernie. And we’ll kill you, too.”
“No,” Taylor answered. “You won’t. What’s going to happen is we’ll find your daddy, make him give us what we want, and then we’ll all take turns with you and your boy. If you’re lucky, really lucky, we’ll kill you after a few days. But I don’t think you’re going to be that lucky.”
Duncan felt his mom squeeze his hand even tighter. He squeezed it back. He didn’t understand why she told Taylor that Bernie was dead. Maybe Sheriff Streng killed him. And maybe Sheriff Streng would come back and kill Taylor, too.
Duncan closed his eyes and hoped with all of his might that he would.
The flame touched Josh’s cheek and made a crackling/singeing sound as it evaporated the sweat.
Then the pain hit.
Josh had been burned before, but never seriously. Stepping on a sparkler when he was a kid. Grabbing the handle of a cast-iron skillet that had been on the stove for too long. Getting accidentally touched by a cigarette by some idiot at a rock concert. And in each case, his reaction had been the same: to flinch away from the heat.
But Josh couldn’t flinch. Bernie had his arm around his throat, and Josh’s head was wedged up against the bars of the cell. Bernie held the lighter—just an ordinary disposable Bic—to Josh’s face, and Josh couldn’t even turn his head. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs and couldn’t break the killer’s steel grip.
The pain started bad, then quickly went to unbearable. Josh howled, and Woof hopped around, barking like mad, and Bernie held it there and held it there and held it there and then finally pulled away.
“Too deep, hehehe, too deep,” Bernie said. “Nerves are dead. Have to find a new spot, new spot.”
Bernie waved the flame in front of his eyes. Josh tried to blow it out, but the hand danced away.
“Where next, where next, how about … here.”
Josh tried to blow, missed, and Bernie held the lighter right under Josh’s nose.
Then Bernie screamed and Josh was miraculously released. The firefighter fell to his hands and knees and turned to see Woof, his head between the bars of the cell, biting and tugging at the pants of Bernie’s bad leg. Bernie went down, his mashed knee bending in a way it shouldn’t bend. He beat on the dog’s head, but Woof refused to let go.
“Woof! Come!” Josh yelled.
But Woof wasn’t finished with Bernie. He shook his head side to side, making Bernie’s knee flex like a rubber hose. Bernie yelled louder than Josh though humanly possible, and then the pyro managed to snag Woof’s neck with one hand. The other brought up the lighter.
Josh tugged on Woof’s leg to pull him away, but Bernie’s grip was solid. Josh frantically looked around for something, anything, saw the pillowcase on the floor, reached for it, and yanked out the can of aerosol antiseptic spray.
When Bernie flicked on the lighter, Josh pointed the can and let him have it.
The results were spectacular. A two-foot blast of fire erupted from the can, hitting Bernie squarely in the face. Josh kept it on him, brought it closer, until the killer released Woof.
The dog pounced away and resumed barking. Josh killed the flame, but Bernie’s didn’t go out. His hair had caught, and Bernie slapped at the sides of his head, which only fanned the fire, making it larger.
Josh ran out of the drunk tank to the janitor’s supply closet, grabbed the mop bucket, took it to the bathroom, and scooped up some toilet water, ran back to Bernie’s cell to find him on his knees, beating his burning, blistering, broken face against the bars.
He threw the water, and the fire went out, the smoke and steam rising up from Bernie’s head smelling like burnt hair and fried sausage patties.
Bernie fell over, onto his side, his breathing shallow and rapid. Josh focused the Maglite on him, saw that his lips were gone and his eyes were dripping goo. Woof came over.
“Aaaaaaaad. Aaaaaaaad. Oooyyyy. Aaaad oooyyy …”
Josh listened to the wheezes, and after a minute thought he understood what Bernie was trying to say.
Bad boy.
That’s an understatement, Josh thought.
He hugged the dog tight, stroking his fur, and together they watched the killer take a few more pathetic gasps and then die.
Josh found the can of antiseptic and the fallen syringe full of lidocaine. He sprayed the needle and gently stuck it into his cheek, near the burn. The pain ebbed, and then there was no feeling at all. Next, Josh checked Woof for injury. Woof mistook it for affection and wagged his tail, furiously licking Josh’s face.
“From now on, every time I see you, I’m bringing you a steak,” Josh promised.
Josh put the syringe and antiseptic back into the pillowcase, and he and Woof left the Water Department building, heading for the junior high.