Ahead of him, a young and extremely dead girl appeared, and she thrust her hands into the van’s idling engine. There was a sputter, a cough, and the vehicle died.
Marty plunged through her, racing for the street and the world beyond.
***
Monday, 1:55 AM
“Should I go after him?” Carl inquired. There was anger and steel in the dead man’s voice, a subtle reminder of the man he had been when he was still alive.
“No,” Shane replied after a moment. “I know where he’s going. I’m just upset that this opportunity to question him was lost.”
Shane closed the door, turned away, and walked to the kitchen. His heartbeat was returning to normal, and his jaw was beginning to ache. The impact of Marty’s skull on Shane’s jaw had been jarring and momentarily stunning despite being only a glancing blow.
“Are you feeling well, my friend?” Carl asked once they reached the kitchen, and Shane turned on the light.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m good.” Getting an icepack out of the freezer, he carried it to the table, sat down, and pressed the pack against his jaw. “Frustrated is all. I was a little too eager. Wasn’t paying attention.”
“You backed a rat into a corner,” Carl sighed, sitting down as well. “It is never a good thing. The greatest cowards will put up the fiercest fights when confronted and unable to run.”
Eloise skipped through the back door, humming a nameless tune. She paused and smiled at Shane. “Are you well, Shane?”
“Yes,” he chuckled, wincing at the dull pain in his jaw. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“I broke the man’s vehicle.” Eloise’s voice was filled with pride.
“You did a good job,” Shane admitted.
“You know,” Eloise lowered her voice, “you could ask Ms. Jacinta to kiss your boo-boo and make it better.”
Shane laughed. “Get out of here!”
Eloise giggled and skipped out of the room.
“What now, my friend?” Carl asked.
“Good question,” Shane muttered. He put the icepack on the table, picked up a pack of cigarettes from their place by the ashtray, and shook out one of the Lucky Strikes. Shane lit it, exhaled, and said, “First thing, I’m going to get some sleep. Then, breakfast, maybe talk with Jacinta, and, finally, get a hold of Captain Thompson.”
“Is that regarding the woman and the sunglasses?”
Shane nodded.
“Do you think it’s safe to leave her where she is?”
“I have to hope it is,” Shane replied. “I’m too tired, physically, to try and confront her right now. I have to rest. Once I get a little shut-eye and ask Jack to keep the local PD off my back, I should be all right.”
“‘Should’?” Carl asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Should.” Shane nodded, and he put the icepack once more on his jaw.
Chapter 31: Fury and Fear
Monday, 4:00 AM
“Ready?” Doc Westray asked.
Marty nodded and stifled a cry of pain as the tired-looking doctor put Marty’s shoulder back into its socket.
Sagging in his chair, Marty realized he was sweating. Doc Westray stepped back, poured a glass of water, and handed it to Marty, who accepted it with a nod. He took a drink, straightened up, and told the doctor, “Money’s on the table, Doc.”
The other man nodded, glanced at the pile of cash, and then back to Marty. “You want some advice from your friendly drunk of a physician?”
“No.” Marty took another drink.
“Too bad,” Doc Westray replied. “Do yourself a favor, Marty: get lost. Grab whatever cash you’ve got and disappear.”
Marty frowned. “Why do you say that?”
Doc folded his arms over his chest and peered intently at Marty long enough to make it uncomfortable.
Marty cleared his throat and drank half the glass.
“I say it because I can still read a patient,” Doc Westray answered. There was a note of confidence and surety in his tone. “Someone hurt you tonight, Marty.”
Marty tried to respond, but the man held up a hand.
“Stop. Listen to me. Yeah, I know your shoulder was popped out. I know that hurts. But I want you to know that I can see what else happened. He scared the hell out of you. He made you understand that he could kill you and that’s a hard thing for any man like you to have to accept. Oh, sure, you know there are smarter men out there. And, yes, there are definitely men who might want to kill you, but this man, whoever he is, has proven to you that you’re not invincible. I’ve always found it odd how you believed yourself to be unkillable, Marty. It’s got to be a damned difficult thing for you to accept right now.”
Marty’s scalp tightened with fear.
Doc Westray nodded. “You were lucky tonight. I don’t know if you’ll be that lucky next time you meet that guy. Because there will be a next time, won’t there?”
“Yeah,” Marty muttered, “there will.”
“Uh-huh.” Doc Westray lowered his arms and picked up the cash. “Listen, think about what I said. If you decide to take off, stop by my place. I’ll give you some cash if you need it. As it is, I’m late for a date with a bottle of scotch rye.”
Marty nodded goodbye as the doctor left the room, the doors clicking shut and locking automatically behind him.
Marty knew he should take at least some Advil if nothing else, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand.
Not yet, he thought. I need to consider what to do about Shane Ryan.
The mere whisper of the name in his thoughts caused Marty to shiver. It had been a long time since anyone living had given Marty a beat down. Even longer since someone had considered it to be a good idea.
He didn’t just beat me down, Marty reminded himself. He took care of the four guys who went in before me. Where are they? Did he kill them? Is that how he got my name? What the hell? I wasn’t even gone for that long.
What was truly difficult to comprehend was why he had been given that address by Alex Kallistos. Haunted items or not, Marty grimaced, Shane Ryan isn’t anyone to mistake for weak. They told me how dangerous he was. Hell, even that nut job Kallistos warned me away. So why change his mind and send me there anyway?
Struggling to control his anger, Marty looked at his phone, and then he picked it up and dialed the contact number for Alex Kallistos.
It rang twice before it was answered by a man. Marty gave his name and asked to speak with Alex and was transferred over. The boy picked up, sounding as though he was wired on sugar.
“I only have one question,” Marty said.
“What?” Alex was able to sound bored and angry all in one breath.
“Why Shane Ryan?”
There was a pause before Alex responded. “What do you mean?”
Marty told him what had occurred.
“Stay away from him,” Alex snapped. “Stay away from Berkley Street altogether!”
Confused, Marty hesitated a moment, and before he could respond to the strange order, Alex ended the call, leaving only dead air behind him. Marty looked at the phone, then he shrugged and set it down.
Stay away from Berkley Street? Why? Marty shook his head. Whatever. Yeah, I can do that. No problem at all.