Mossy nodded. “I finished the poison earlier today. I need to rest before I go in, and there’s still a couple of things I have to do… to get my affairs in order I guess. You know there’s a good chance we both might die in there, Chris. I’m sure the poison will work, but that thing is so damn fast and strong, it might kill us first.”
“I know. But I won’t sit back and let you try alone. I can’t. My father wouldn’t have. In a way this thing is responsible for everything I’ve lost in my life. I know what I’m getting into, Mossy.”
“Alright then, pick me up here at six o’clock. Don’t breathe a word to anyone.”
Chris nodded and left without another word. Mossy knew there would be no more rest this day. With a heavy sigh, he sat down at the desk in his room and began to write. He needed to get everything down on paper for Denny to give to his mother. Dear Jan. The words poured out of him onto the paper as tears poured out of his eyes. He included everything he remembered, the experiments at the base, the creature, his life on the streets, and finally his return to Haven. He thought he might be strong enough to face Janice and tell her everything but he knew the odds that he would get that chance were not good. When it was done, he folded the papers and put them in an envelope, sealed it, and wrote Janice’s name on it.
He was drained; he felt like the tears had left him barren, nothing but a husk of flesh and bones. He glanced at the backpack that held the canister of poison, then at the clock. He would be long gone before Chris came to pick him up. He closed his eyes and did something he hadn’t done in… forever; he said a prayer. When he opened them, the clock had crept closer to his destiny.
(81)
Cheryl Peroit’s eyes flickered open and she thought she must still be dreaming. A familiar face was leaning toward her from the bedside chair. She closed her eyes but when she opened them he was still there, now a slight smile playing on his lips. As if reading her mind, he spoke.
“It’s not a dream, Cheryl. I heard what happened, the stories… I had to see you.”
Seeing him brought it all back and she started crying. He put a hand softly to the side of her face and she didn’t shake it off. Her stay at the hospital had been a lesson on loneliness. None of her old friends came, her parents showed up randomly, usually wasted, and she pretended she was asleep until they left. Mostly, she just thought. She’d had two surgeries to repair the damage to her ankle and she’d be laid up for a while.
“The stories are true, Charlie. I’m sorry.”
Chuck Brantley smiled sadly. She’d never called him Chuck, always Charlie. “Please, tell me…”
Cheryl was silent for a long time, to the point Chuck thought she was drifting back to the safety of sleep. Finally, she spoke. “When I realized I was pregnant, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you involved, it sounds so unfair now, but at the time I thought it was best. I broke it off so I could figure things out and you wouldn’t have to know. Time passed and it was too late to have… to do anything. I decided I could keep it a secret from everyone. I read books about childbirth, I knew how to do it. When it came, Charlie, it looked like you…” She covered her face in her hands and couldn’t continue for a while.
“I’d been so good during the pregnancy, hardly drinking and no coke. But then, it was just too much. I started doing coke again and just kept doing it. I got an idea that since nobody knew about the baby, I could get rid of it and nobody would ever know.”
“But you would know.” The look on his face was unreadable: hatred maybe, or pity, or just plain sadness.
She nodded. “I went to the lake with him and I was pretty messed up. I was going to take him into the water and… I had rope and weights…” She broke down again and this time the look on Chuck’s face wasn’t hard to read at all. But he said nothing. “When I got there, I couldn’t do it. I swear Charlie. It all came to me, so clearly. I could get help raising him and finish school, I would name him Carl after my grandfather… but then it came and took him. It was the Angel of Death. This is my punishment, Charlie. God is punishing me for what I’ve done and the thoughts I had.
“Cheryl, did you kill our baby? There is no Angel of Death, there’s just death.”
“I know how it sounds Charlie. But I saw it…”
“You were full of coke, Cheryl, you don’t know what you saw.”
She looked at him, her eyes clear and bright. “I do know, Charlie. It rose out of the water and took our baby. It looked at me… it could have taken me… but it didn’t. It passed judgment and knew it would be worse for me to live than die. And it was right, Charlie.” She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
Brantley stayed while Cheryl slept, trying to make sense of what she said. It was too much and he began to doze fitfully in the chair next to her. Of all the things he had given up by getting involved with Crawford, nothing was more precious than Cheryl. As if on cue, the door flew open and in stepped Dale Crawford, Buddy Dentner and Tony Costa. Brantley recognized immediately they were drunk.
“Chuckie! Your mom said you’d be here! Get your shit together, man. We’re going hunting.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you Dale. You went too far with the O’Brien kid. And everyone knows you were the one that had Cummings’ dad beat up. I’m out.”
Dale stepped forward and leaned in close to Brantley. “That fucking freak killed your baby. Are you that much of a pussy that you will let that go?”
Brantley stared at Crawford, then looked over to Cheryl. Her eyes were shut tightly, her breathing shallow, like she was having a nightmare. Christ, why wouldn’t she be. Finally he stood. “Whatever you’re up to Crawford, I’m not part of it. Now get out of here and leave us alone.”
Crawford’s face went red and he looked like he was going to erupt. He stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose. Brantley didn’t back down. Crawford frowned, like he’d seen something in those eyes he didn’t understand. Suddenly he smiled. “It’s okay Chuckie. Me and the boys will take care of this. We don’t need some chickenshit getting in the way. You can thank us later for getting rid of Greymore.” He turned and left, his faithful followers behind him.
Brantley stared after them after the door closed and then felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see Cheryl with a look of terror in her eyes. “Charlie, that man Greymore they were talking about, he didn’t kill Carl. Something came out of that lake and took our baby, and it wasn’t human. Please, don’t let them make this worse.”
He nodded, then went out the door to find Crawford.
(82)
Denny lay awake in his bed, fingers laced behind his head, staring out the window as the sun finally rose. The combination of Billy thrashing around on the cot next to Denny’s bed all night, the oppressive heat, and the fear of what was in store for them today did not add up to a good night’s sleep. Denny had slept fitfully, tossing and turning, finally giving up and waiting for the sun. Now that the room had begun to take in some of the dawn’s light, he got up and went to his desk and pulled out his journal. He began writing and didn’t stop until he heard Billy stir.
“Working on a new sonnet, Shakespeare?”
Denny grunted but felt his face redden. He could never let anyone read his writing, it would be like opening the most secret part of himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. “No, just working on a story about a kid who throws his best friend out the window the morning after a sleepover.” He closed the journal and tucked it away in his desk drawer. An icy chill made him actually shiver as a terrifying thought jumped into his head: What if that is the last entry I make? He shook it off and turned to face Billy. “I slept like shit. I’m kind of tired to go monster hunting.” Joking was the only weapon he had against his fear.