Voorhees ripped a sleeve from his shirt and tied a crude tourniquet around Duncan's leg. "She's still…" Duncan pointed at Jenna's frantic chopping. She was chopping nothing. Voorhees laid Duncan back. "Don't talk."
"I could hear you from a block away!" Someone shouted over the edge: Mike. Then the scope of the carnage below hit him, and he fell silent.
"Wound's not that deep." Voorhees said to Duncan. He heard a slapping sound and turned. Sawbones' head was gone. Jenna was attacking a slick of gore.
She fell into the mud and screamed.
A moment later, Shipley's voice rose even above hers.
"Where's the kid?
WHERE'S KIPP?!"
Had any of the survivors scaled the skeleton building and stood at its peak, they would have seen the boy stumbling out of the construction site, heading west toward the Jefferson Harbor Museum.
Turning east, they might have also seen a cloud on the horizon, not in the sky, but on the ground.
Feral undead converging on the pillars of smoke that rose from the city.
31
Daddy
Mike pulled Shipley away from the others. "Cut the hysterics!"
"He's my SON." Shipley gasped. "They took him when I went to prison. They took him but I kept track of him, I knew where he was, I came here for him, don't you fucking get it?? WHERE IS HE?!"
"Jesus. All right." Mike glanced at the dead guy a few yards away, a local dealer he'd seen in Voorhees' files. The Desert Eagle still lay in his hand.
Retrieving the gun and checking its magazine to find it full, he trotted to the edge of the basement. Voorhees was standing between an unconscious Duncan and a weeping Jenna. He himself seemed to be in shock.
Mike gestured for him to approach and lowered his voice. "I think Shipley and I should go look for the boy."
"What?" Voorhees turned the words over and over in his head, but could make no sense of them. He was still seeing blood, pools and geysers and clouds of blood. The rain on his head felt like blood and he swatted angrily at it.
"I'm going to take Shipley to look for the boy." Mike repeated.
"No, no. We all need to stay here. That kid's a goner."
"I know…" Mike leaned into the hole, whispering"…Cheryl ID'd him. It's HIM."
He showed Voorhees the Eagle, and the man understood.
"Don't do anything stupid." Voorhees mumbled. "Don't waste any bullets. One shot."
Mike nodded and lifted his head out of the basement.
"W-what happened?" Cheryl stammered. She was still standing away from the others, an outsider, not sure if she wanted in.
"It's all right now." Palmer took her hand and led her beneath the scaffolding. Mike gave her a smile as he tucked the Eagle into his waistband. "I'll be back in a little while."
"We'll be okay." Voorhees called to the group as he climbed up. "That rotter was alone. We'll just wait for Mike — and Shipley — and Kipp — then we'll get the hell out of here."
Mike led Shipley over a mound of debris. Voorhees patted Cheryl's shoulder. "It's all going to be okay now."
She nodded absently. "I mean," he said, "Shipley won't be coming back."
"Huh?"
"Mike told me. We've been hunting for this bastard for more than a month." Still getting a questioning look from her, Voorhees sighed and said as softly as possible, "Mike told me Shipley's the one who raped you."
Cheryl's frown melted away into a horrified, gaping stare.
"I…I never told Mike that…I never even told him I was raped…"
Mike tossed Voorhees' gun to Shipley as they walked down a slope. "Here. I've got the Eagle."
"This one ain't even loaded," scowled Shipley. "You really think I didn't know?"
"You're a smart guy." Mike smiled at him. There was something wrong about it. The Eagle, turning playfully in his hand, came to rest aimed at Shipley's chest.
"What is this? What are you doing?"
"You know I could kill you right now. I could. Shoot you where you stand and leave you for the rotters."
"Whoa, whoa." Holding his hands out placatingly, Shipley dropped his gruff tone. Only way to deal with cops when they started losing it. You fought back, you got swatted down and maybe never got back up; he'd seen it a dozen times in lockup. You rolled into a ball and started begging, they kicked you while you were down. Shipley steadied his tremulous voice and spoke. "I'm not this guy you've been looking for. I'm not a bad guy. I know I've fucked up before but I've never, ever hurt anyone like that. I came here to get my son out of this hellhole and head north. I know where the troops are headed, I know where the cities are. You could come with us! We'd all be safer. But what's important to me — the only thing — is that Kipp's safe. That's all."
"You were serious about that?" Mike laughed, the pistol never wavering. "He's your kid? I'm starting to see the resemblance." As he wielded his power over the other man, Mike seemed to be lost in the moment; but rushing him would break the trance and end in death, Shipley knew.
"How're you going to explain to that retard where you've been? What Daddy did? Sorry son, Daddy liked little girls, not little boys."
"I'll explain as best I can."
"You won't explain shit — you won't tell him A THING, and you know it. He's better off out there with THEM."
Shipley looked around in desperation. Kipp could be blocks away. He could be in the hands of an undead, another clown…
"Just let me go. I'll go myself. We won't come back, we'll leave you alone. How about that? Just let me go, Officer?"
"Ohhhh. 'Officer'. You can go then. I'm sorry." Mike sneered and leveled the pistol with Shipley's head. "Don't condescend to me, cocksucker. EVER."
"Okay, okay."
"Turn around, Shipley."
Knives of ice drove deep into Shipley's veins.
"Offi — Mike…"
"Turn. Around."
Shipley's eyes studied the ground. There had to be a rock, a pipe…he could run, just run. NOW!! No, the cop wouldn't miss. The falling rain drummed maddeningly on his head.
"I want to tell you," Mike called genially, "one thing before we do this."
"Tell us both."
Not Mike's voice.
Voorhees kept his distance from the other P.O. He let his presence sink in before saying another word.
"What are you doing here? I've got this." Mike growled.
"She got pregnant, Mike. With your baby. She miscarried."
In a half-second the entire scene shifted. Weisman was exposed, he had no way out, no excuses, no lies. He kept the gun trained on Shipley and looked at his partner. "Cheryl."
"Yes." Voorhees scratched his stubble. His stomach mewled. Mike lowered the gun slightly, just slightly, the barrel still pointing at Shipley, who stood stock-still.
"How did I miss it?" Sighed Voorhees. "You could hardly wait to start once you'd arrived in town." Then, angrily, "You interviewed each of those victims. You comforted them, held them, sent them north 'for their own safety' with their boyfriends or sisters or, if they had nobody left, nobody. Why'd you really pressure them to leave the Harbor? Did you think something might click, that they'd hear the perp's voice in their heads and realize it was yours?"
"They always do," Mike answered, "eventually. I wish I could be there when it happened…but I wanted to stay here. I mean, I like it here. Just the two of us working the case, the only cops in town, the only ones they had. And then this guy-"
Mike pulled the trigger. Shipley flew back. The gun was pointed at Voorhees before he could draw a breath.
"With him I could stay even longer. There wasn't any need to convince you, was there? You liked him for it the second you saw him!"
Shipley twitched in the mud. He'd taken a gut shot. It was a wonder he wasn't screaming. Voorhees glanced over and saw that the man's eyes were locked on the two cops.