"Do you think that would be safe?"
"I'll be careful. If there are people around, I won't go near it."
"I think you're taking a big risk just to pick up some clothes."
"They're kind of special," the boy said. "Mr. Styles bought them for me. I don't have anything else to remember him by."
"All right, Malcolm, if you feel you have to. Promise me you'll be very, very careful."
"I promise," he said.
They walked together to the door. Holly looked out to be sure no one was around. Then she gave the boy a hug, and he slipped away into the night.
He stayed in the shadows of the brush at the side of the road as he made his way back toward the carnival grounds. Circling the perimeter, he saw that all normal activity had come to a stop. The lights still blazed, but the sounds of the carnival - the jangly music, the rumble of the rides, the talkers, the laughter of the people along the midway - were missing. A car from the Inyo County Sheriff's Department was parked near the entrance gate.
Malcolm slipped onto the grounds between the food tent and the shooting gallery. He could see a crowd milling around in front of the Animal Boy tent. A man in a sheriff's uniform stood guard out in front to keep back the curious. So far there seemed to be no one back where the trailers were parked.
As he made his way toward Bateman Styles' battered old trailer, Malcolm stopped suddenly. The breath caught in his throat. Ahead of him a man-size shadow detached itself from the others and moved into his path.
"Hello, Malcolm."
It took a moment for him to make out the sandy-haired, mild-looking man who stood regarding him calmly. Then recognition came with a jolt.
"Derak! How did you find me?"
"We've known where you were for months," he said. "One or more of us was always nearby, waiting for you to call and tell us you were ready. Tonight you did."
"I called you?"
"We heard it from the hills. The howling."
"I didn't mean to do that," Malcolm said. "I couldn't I help myself."
"I understand," Derak said. "The fact remains that you called to us. By now you have learned that you cannot live among the others as one of them. It is time for you to join us."
"H-how many of you are there?"
"More than you might think. There is a band of us now in the hills above this town. Some of them you will recognize from Drago. We're all waiting for you, Malcolm."
The boy peered into the darkness. He thought he saw movement among the shadows. "Are there others here now with you?"
"Yes. You will meet them all when you join us. Come, let's waste no more time."
Malcolm hung back. "Derak, I-I'm not sure this is what I want to do."
The eyes of the sandy-haired man lost their mild look. They glittered, reflecting the lights of the carnival. "My son, you have no choice."
"But I do. I have a friend who says there may be a cure for me."
"Cure!" Derak snapped the word off like the crack of a whip. "Cures are for sick humans. You are not sick. And Malcolm, you are not human. You belong with us. It is your only hope for survival."
Malcolm pulled in a deep breath. Although Derak seemed to draw him like a powerful magnet, he was determined to assert his own will.
"Dr. Lang has promised to help me."
Derak snorted in contempt. "Dr. Lang? That woman in the motel room? What do you think she can do for you?"
"I don't know," Malcolm admitted. "But she promised to try, and I believe her."
"You're a fool. She will only exploit you like that other doctor."
"No," Malcolm said stubbornly. "Holly is different. I trust her."
"You have much to learn," Derak said. "Not only about humans but about yourself."
"I'm going with her," Malcolm said. "You can't stop me."
"Can't I?" Derak said darkly. "You don't know how easily I could take you right now."
"Then you'll have to do it that way." The boy braced his feet wide apart and faced the man.
Derak made a sound deep in his chest. He took a step toward Malcolm. For a moment the light gleamed off his teeth, suddenly grown longer. Then he stepped back into the shadows.
"No, Malcolm, I will not take you by force. I want you to join us of your own choosing. I ask you once more... come with me."
Malcolm shook his head. "No. If there is a chance I might be helped, that I might live as a normal human being, I have to take it. I'm going with Dr. Lang."
Derak's eyes glowed dangerously. "Very well. It is a foolish choice, one you are going to regret. However, the choice is yours to make. When you are ready to come to us, you know we will be near."
As Malcolm watched, Derak seemed to vanish into the darkness. A second shadow shape moved, too, and the boy was left alone.
He continued to Styles' trailer, relieved to see there was still no one around. He slipped inside, leaving the door ajar. For a moment he was overwhelmed by the familiar surroundings that had been his home during the happy summer months. He moved about, running his fingers lightly over the cupboard where they kept their supply of food for the butane stove, the board where the old man had been teaching him chess, the perpetually rumpled bed where Bateman slept, his own bedroll neatly tucked away under the fold-down table. Even the stale smell of Bate's Camels brought back happy memories.
Malcolm shook himself out of the mood and quickly selected a few articles of clothing. He slipped them on, taking the tattered old ones with him to dispose of along the way.
He made his way back to the highway, buoyed by the thought that in an hour he would be back with Holly. Then they could be on their way to a new life for him.
At that moment, however, someone else knocked at the door of Holly's room. Expecting Malcolm, she opened it to a surprise.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Malcolm quickened his steps as he approached the motel. The same cars that had been there before still stood in the parking spaces. The Oriental woman dozed in the office. Holly Lang's Volkswagen waited outside her room.
He stopped. There was a prickling of his skin as when someone draws a fingernail down a blackboard. Everything looked the same, yet something was different. He could sense it. Something unknown was waiting for him behind the drawn curtains of the motel room.
He approached slowly, looking in all directions, listening, sniffing the air. Nothing moved in the night. There was no sound. He could detect no foreign scent. And yet, he had this feeling...
He knocked lightly at the door, his muscles tense, nerves jumping.
The door opened.
The woman who stood in the doorway was not Holly Lang. She was two or three inches shorter than Holly. Her compact body was beautifully rounded and displayed to good advantage in a tight skirt and top of black leather. The woman's hair was black as midnight, her mouth wide and inviting. She smiled. Her eyes were wide-set and playful. They were green. Deep, deep green.
"Hello, Malcolm," she said.
The impact of the woman in the doorway kept him from speaking for a moment. He felt very young and clumsy.
"Are you going to stand out there staring all night?"
"Who are you?" he managed finally.
"I am Lupe. I've been waiting for you. Come in." She stepped aside and watched him with amusement.
Malcolm entered the room hesitantly. No one else was there. He saw Holly's suitcase lying open on the floor, her things packed neatly inside.
"Where is Holly?"
"We have her now."
"We?"
"Oh, come, Malcolm, you know me. We can always recognize each other."
"What do you mean you have Holly?" A blade of fear stabbed into him.
"Oh, not that way," Lupe said. "She's still all right, as far as I know."