And he saw a police car.
Secured like a metal patient in a straightjacket, Tim had no way of sending a warning to the unknowing officer when the man stepped out into the middle of the road and began motioning them around the cordoned-off stretch of asphalt.
The possessed car hurtled forward.
Realizing the machine’s intent, the cop scrambled backward, drawing his weapon. Tim could already picture the first slug rupturing the windshield, and he joined in with the others, shouting at the top of his voice for the officer not to shoot.
But the Mercedes moved too fast for the man.
The cop abandoned his shooter’s stance and lunged to get clear of the car, only to find he’d backed up parallel to the disabled vehicle and had nowhere to go.
Tim closed his eyes.
The impact felt like a cannonball hit. The whole car jolted.
The windshield imploded. The roof bucked.
Shouts and cries that had originated with the terror of being trapped within the haunted auto and subservient to its evil presence silenced in the crash.
Tim opened his eyes to find that the safety glass of the windshield had turned white with destruction and now bowed inward toward them. Despite the devastation, it remained in its frame. Tim craned his head around to see what had become of the unfortunate officer, but all he saw were the terrified faces of Mallory’s friends.
Clear of the patrol car, the Mercedes rushed on, making a sharp right onto a heavily wooded side road. It plowed through outstretched arms of plant life that overhung its boundaries.
At the end of the drive an abandon church and cemetery emerged out of the murk.
The Mercedes slowed to a stop before an iron fence half hidden by overgrown weeds. Scores of various shaped headstones glowed in the vehicle’s high beams.
The car idled.
“Everyone out except Mallory,” the dreaded voice demanded.
The restraining belts lashed around Tim and the three teens behind him all clicked softly in their buckles and slipped away. The driver-side doors swung open.
“What about Mallory?” Tim asked. “Why won’t you let her go, too?”
He leaned over and checked Mallory’s ever-worsening condition, finding she’d slipped into unconsciousness and wouldn’t respond to his voice.
“If you want Mallory to go free, then you’ll do as I say,” the speakers transmitted. “Otherwise, I’ll tear her apart, slowly, piece by tiny piece, making her suffer a hundred deaths before I finally allow her to die.”
Tim didn’t question the validity of the monster’s threat, and the thought of what it might do to her made him choke. “W-what do you want from us?”
“Complete a job for me,” it replied. “The four of you go into the cemetery and unearth the center grave. There are shovels waiting and most of the work has already been done. Dig up the coffin and bring me the body of Kale Kane, if you want Mallory to live.”
Tim’s skin prickled with unease. Kale Kane. The serial killer? He’s here!
“Time is short,” the creature warned. “Bring me Kane now, or your friend dies.”
“All right,” Tim shouted.
He and the others piled out of the car and faced the waiting graveyard. Its eternal markers stared back. The night air had taken on an unseasonable chill, but remained thick with moisture and the threat of the churning storm above.
Tim moved away from the vehicle last, taking tentative steps toward where Mallory’s friends had gathered. They looked to him with imploring glances.
“What do we do now?” Adam whispered. His gaze kept darting to the wilderness.
“We do like it said,” Tim answered.
“But we could run,” Lisa said. “It couldn’t follow us out here, not through the trees.”
“No way,” Tim warned. “Now, come on, before it does something to hurt Mallory.”
They looked to the car, to the blazing headlights that seemed to watch them, then followed Tim through the gate. They let him lead the way amid the monuments, wading through the waist-high weeds to the grave they’d been instructed to unearth.
Piles of dirt rimmed the open pit.
Two shovels awaited use at each side.
“Oh, my God,” Becky screeched.
Hordes of glossy black crickets crawled across the tombstone and around its base, scuttling over and under one another, some spilling into the grave itself.
The two girls huddled close to each other and kept their distance. Tim didn’t blame them. Though harmless, the insects’ exaggerated number proved daunting.
He took up one of the shovels and cleared away a majority of the bugs, heaving them into the weeds. Once finished, he knelt and started into the hole, indicating for Adam to join him.
“Let’s get to work,” he whispered. “Maybe it’ll let its guard down if it thinks we’re doing what it wants.”
“Hell with that,” Adam said. “We have a chance, right now, just like Lisa said. If we can get into the forest, it won’t be able to catch us. We’re halfway there now.”
Tim shook his head. “Trust me, it can and it will.” He dropped into the open excavation and looked up at them. “Besides, I think I have an idea how we can all get to safety, but first we need to get Mallory out of that car. If we bring it the coffin, we might have a shot at freeing her, but I’ll need your help to do it.”
“You’re nuts,” the boy replied.
“It’s for Mallory’s life,” Tim replied. “What’s wrong with you people? Don’t you understand—we leave, and that thing will kill her. You guys are her friends, you can’t abandon her.”
“He’s right,” Becky said. The fear in her face seemed to have dwindled. Disentangling herself from Lisa, she stooped and picked up the shovel. “I’m with Tim. We have to help Mallory. She’s the one still stuck with that monster, not us.”
Together, Tim and Becky began clearing the remaining soil from the killer’s coffin while Adam and Lisa fidgeted several paces away, not watching.
CHAPTER 51
Paul knelt on the interior roof of the overturned Expedition, immobilizing Rebecca’s head with his hands while Melissa examined her injuries. Once the detective established she wasn’t in shock and it would be all right to move her, they eased her out of the seat.
“Got her shoulders?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, she’s going to be fine, just hold her steady.”
They freed her from the wreckage and gingerly laid her in the short grass bordering the roadside. Not far away, the driver of the runaway semi paced back and forth, crushing a baseball cap in his shifting hands.
“Ah, crap, you don’t know how sorry I am,” he stammered. “Shit. I mean, I don’t know what happened. I tried to stop, I did, but the damn steering went out and the brakes wouldn’t work. L-look, I’m fully insured.”
Frank came around the Ford’s front end and handed Paul a folded blanket to use as a pillow. “Here, a couple of good Samaritans pitched in some supplies.”
Paul accepted the blanket and positioned it under Rebecca’s head, smoothing several strands of glossy auburn hair from her forehead.
“How’s the patrolman?” Melissa asked Frank.
“Alive,” he replied. “Which is damn lucky, considering how mangled his cruiser is. The brunt of the damage hit on the passenger side, but the guy’s in rough shape. One of the motorists who stopped is a surgeon, so I left him in her care while I came to check on you.” He gestured to Rebecca. “Is she okay?”
Melissa nodded. “Her pupils are responsive and she’s come halfway around once already. She should wake up any second. She probably just fainted but I still want her checked out once the ambulance gets here.”