“What do we do then?” asked Bill. “We can’t just leave him here. We’ll never be able to defend him from that thing. You didn’t see the size of it, and we know the monster has no qualms about killing.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Mike. “We have an hour, and we should have the element of surprise. This thing is old, it probably doesn’t even understand cars, and as far as it’s concerned, it already left us behind. What’s it going to be worried about? All we have to do is set up a trap, like we talked about, and we get a chance at this thing without having to put the boy in jeopardy. Ken’s my friend, make no mistake about that, but if we can use him as bait, so much the better.”
“But the police…” Bill started.
“Will never in a million years believe us,” finished Mike.
“True,” said Bill, defeated.
“Between what we bought and what you’ve got in your trunk, what can we rig up?” asked Mike.
“Well…” Bill paced around the living room. “Not much to work with here. Do you think we could get him upstairs?” he waved at Ken.
“No problem,” said Mike. “I’ll make a stretcher, but you’ll have to help with the stairs.”
“Okay,” said Bill. “Let’s do that quick, so I can put some traps on the stairs.”
“You have some ideas already?” asked Mike.
“I think I do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Davey
“I JUST DON’T KNOW what you were thinking,” Melanie said. She pounded the steering wheel and tried to catch Davey’s eye in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t know,” said Davey. He looked down at his lap and wished the car ride would end. His sister, Susan, remained uncharacteristically silent as their mother grilled Davey.
Melanie pulled off the road into the parking lot of a gas station.
“What possessed you? Why would sneak out of the Career Center and start hitchhiking south? Where were you even going?” Melanie turned around to face Davey. She reached out to lift his chin so he would look her in the eye, but he pulled back when he saw her hand. She ended up bumping his nose as he moved away. Davey’s hand flew up and he grabbed his nose, more from surprise than pain. “Davey?”
Tears welled up in his eyes. He had felt both powerful and frightened that day. Looking into his mother’s eyes, he only felt shame.
“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he said.
“That’s absurd,” she dismissed. “Don’t you think it hurts us, your family, when you put yourself in danger and get picked up by the police.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. Something in her tone helped him regain control of his own emotions.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, turning around in her seat and removing her seat belt. “Davey, stay put. Susan, make sure he does.”
Davey could see her head over the back of the seat as she nodded silently.
When their mother exited the vehicle and approached the store, Susan spoke without facing Davey—“Do you remember when Dad told us about riding a bike?” she asked.
Davey nodded and then realized she couldn’t see his gesture. “Yes,” he said eventually.
“Dad told us that our arms were like the steering wheel. And our legs were the spark plugs. Remember?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Davey. He puzzled at the memory she had recalled for him and wondered why his normally bossy and sarcastic sister had become so contemplative.
“I bet you do,” she said. “But somehow you missed the bigger lesson.”
Davey stayed quiet.
“Dad tried to teach us how to be good people, but you missed something. What you did today was really mean,” said Susan.
“I know,” Davey admitted.
“I don’t think you do,” she disagreed with him. “There’s something missing in you. Something that Dad didn’t have a chance to teach you before he died.”
“That’s not fair,” said Davey. “You’ll see what I’m talking about. He’s coming for all of us, and he’s going to kill us. You’re not going to be able to stop him, and if Dad was here he wouldn’t be able to do anything either.”
“Whatever, Davey,” said Susan. “You’re not even making sense. You never knew that when Dad talked about all that scary stuff it was just stories; it was supposed to be fun. You were too young to understand.”
“I wasn’t,” Davey yelled, losing his cool but unable to maintain his aloof demeanor in the face of the attack. “Sometimes I hope the monster does get to you. You’re such a bitch to Mom all the time, how could you possibly say I’m the one who doesn’t care about Mom? I hate the way you act all the time. I’m not going to be sad at all when he gets you.”
“Davey, that’s enough,” Melanie ordered, opening the car door. “I could hear you halfway back from the store. Susan, take this bag and hand me the bottle.” Susan handed the plastic bottle to her mom and took the bag. Melanie shut the driver’s door and climbed in the backseat next to Davey.
Still shaking with anger, Davey’s face spelled out his anguish.
“I want you to take one of these,” said Melanie. “Dr. Tooley said you should take them if you have extreme anxiety. I think this counts.”
“You said I didn’t have to take those,” said Davey.
“I said I didn’t want to treat phantom symptoms,” explained Melanie. “Your symptoms tonight are certainly not phantom. It won’t hurt you. You like Dr. Tooley, remember?”
Davey shook his head, and a tear finally escaped each eye.
This time Melanie didn’t miss when she reached for his chin. He opened his eyes to her look of concern. “Just one,” said Melanie. “The label says you can take two, as needed. Let’s start with one.”
Davey let his head rest in his mother’s palm as he capitulated. With her other hand, Melanie pressed a pill between his lips and Davey took it into his mouth. She grabbed a water bottle from the cup-holder and Davey took a sip.
“You might get sleepy,” said Melanie, reading the label. “And it says to take with food, so we’ll have to stop somewhere. You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”
Davey felt a rush of heat building up in his cheeks and the back of his neck.
“Mom?” he said.
Melanie raised her eyebrows.
“Can’t we just go stay down at Grandma’s house tonight? Please?” he asked.
“That’s an hour away,” she explained, “and I have work tomorrow. Plus your sister has dance class, and you’ve got catcher’s camp. What would she think, us just showing up on a weeknight?”
Davey gave her his most sincere and grave expression. “I’m asking because it’s really important.”
“I know, honey,” she said. “But what seems important at your age is not always the best thing to do.”
Davey lowered his head. He wondered if he was imagining the effects, or if the pill was already working. When he spoke next, his voice was low and mature. Melanie shuddered at his tone. “He’s coming,” said Davey, keeping his head bent but raising his eyes.
“That’s enough, Davey,” she said, frightened of her pre-teen son, and ashamed of it.
“He won’t stop until we’re all dead,” he continued.
Melanie stifled an urge to slap her son to make him stop talking. She tried to recognize her son, her baby, as she scrambled from the seat. When she climbed back into the front seat, she had regained some of her composure.
“You’ve had a hard day,” she said over her shoulder as she started the car. “You’ll feel much better in the morning.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Mike
“THOSE TWO SEEM SAFE ENOUGH,” said Mike. “What have you got going out here?”