“Creek water? You went to the creek?”
The man twisted away. Karl aimed his light ahead. People littered the foyer, some lying motionless on the stairs, others shuddering beneath the piano. Groans echoed through the house. The heavy odor of blood hung in the air, mixed with other foul stenches. Karl coughed into his shoulder.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” Ashlee asked from the porch.
“Stay back, Ashlee,” Karl said. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe.”
Off to his left someone sobbed. Swinging his light toward the living room, he noticed a woman sprawled across the doorway, her face the color of milk gone bad. She wasn’t moving. He stepped over her and saw more Traders. Or what remained of them. Paul Ellsworth, the owner of the Downhill Diner, sat slumped against an end table, arms dangling limp at his sides.
Karl knelt beside him. The man’s face was sweaty and strained. “What happened?”
“My shoulders.” Paul winced. “I traded them. Now they’re gone.”
“Did you drink creek water?”
“We all did.”
“Where’d you get the water?”
“They…they…”
“Officer Hudson!” a voice called.
Karl spun toward the sound of his name. He saw nobody at the far end of the room and feared he’d stumbled into a trap. Then Berke Toyama bounced to her feet, shaking like she’d been struck by a live wire. Gina Narducci also rose, red-eyed and trembling.
“Berke! Gina! You okay?” Karl asked.
“Berke!” Ashlee came running in. “Berke, what happened here?”
“I-I don’t know,” Berke answered, hands jittering. “G-Gina and I didn’t drink the creek water. Everyone else did. They started yelling and screaming. Some went crazy, started killing each other.”
“Good God,” Karl said. “What happened?”
“We were told to drink that water,” Narducci said.
“Who told you?” Ashlee asked.
“Mick, Candace, and Trent.”
“Trent?” Karl’s thoughts spun like a car on ice. He hated to think his son was involved. “He did this?”
“N-no,” Berke said, steadying herself against the wall. “Trent brought the water, but he gave me a look when he poured mine. It was like he didn’t want me to drink it. I told Gina, and we only pretended to drink.”
“Everyone else did, though,” Narducci said, anxiously scratching her neck. “They lost their parts ten or fifteen minutes after drinking that shit.”
Karl glanced around the room. Very few folks were still alive. To think that minutes ago he’d expected to marshal a small army. Now he wondered how many able-bodied folks he could muster. “Where’s Trent?”
“He and the Lapinskis went to the creek. Mick said they’d bring back more water. He promised that drinking the water would protect us.”
“What about Jake?” Ashlee said, her voice rising. “He didn’t drink, did he?”
Berke shrugged. “I didn’t see Jake here.”
“Fuck,” Ashlee said, slumping against a window. “At sundown he was at the creek with Trent. If he never came here, then…”
Karl’s legs turned to linguine. He reached for a nearby barstool to keep from falling. The thought of little Jake dying sucked his spirit out of him. What was even worse was that Karl should’ve been guarding the creek at sundown. He should’ve been protecting his son and grandson. If he hadn’t been so stupid about trading his skin, they could be safe right now.
“This is just a guess,” Narducci said, squeezing his forearm, “but I think your grandson’s alive.”
Karl swallowed a lump. “You think?”
“Trent seemed preoccupied while he was here.” Narducci dabbed her eyes. “Any parent would be falling to pieces if they knew their child had died. Hell, the only reason I’m still standing is because I haven’t gone home yet. I haven’t seen my two boys. I want to believe they’re okay, but honestly I’m afraid to look. I’m afraid they’ll…they’ll…” She wailed before collapsing into his arms.
“Gina, Gina, slow down,” he said, clutching her. “Listen, we’re gonna bring everyone back. Your boys’ll be fine.”
“Right. So will Jake,” Ashlee said, raising her voice above all the sobbing. “Let’s gather everyone available—anyone who can walk. Soon as we’re set, we’ll march into the woods, build a dam, and dry up that fucking creek.”
73
They loaded three vehicles with shovels, backpacks, flashlights, LED lanterns, and a large folding table. The table would serve as their dam once they dug a spillway. Much as Karl was looking forward to the final stages of their plan, the thought of shoveling frozen earth left him aching in the worst places. Heck, he ached at the thought of standing upright, yet here he was, on his feet and ready to move. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
With the Subaru loaded up, he whistled everyone over. Out of all the Traders, only Ashlee, Berke, Narducci, and Father McKagan approached at full strength. Most lay dead or dying inside Candace’s house, but three people toughed out the loss of their parts and joined the group. Elaine Richards, a waitress from the Downhill Diner, had lost her inner ears; her boss Paul Ellsworth and dentist Mike Mustaine had lost their shoulders and elbows, respectively. The two men wouldn’t be able to help shovel, but at least they could wear lanterns on their belts and play lookout.
“From here on,” Karl said, meeting everyone’s eyes, “we stick close to one another. Nobody runs off. Remember, we outnumber Mick and Candace.” He didn’t include Trent. He wanted to believe Trent was on their side. “Keep your heads on straight and look out for the person next to you.”
Ashlee clapped her hands. “Damn right. Now let’s move.”
Karl led the three-car motorcade into the banquet hall lot. It felt like a funeral procession, everyone following in a straight line without any traffic to interfere. He parked and eyed the steep, snow-packed hill rising into the woods. His cut-up knee still bugged him, and he wished someone would build him an escalator.
He got out and massaged the knee. He lifted his pant leg and checked the towel knotted over it. Wincing, he tightened the knot. When he looked up, Berke was staring at him funny.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Hurt myself in an accident.”
Berke pointed to his leg. “Mick kept grabbing that same knee back at the house.”
Ashlee came over clutching a shovel. “What’s your point?”
“It was so weird,” Berke said, fidgeting in place. “Mick was talking to us, then he grabbed his knee in that exact spot. Like he was in pain. But when he lifted his pant leg, everything looked fine. Right, Gina?”
“It was odd, yes.” Narducci gave a noncommittal smile. “But what’re you getting at?”
“Maybe it’s connected to Snare.” Berke twiddled with her hoodie strings. “Think about it. Mick really isn’t Mick anymore, is he? Not if he has Snare’s brain.”
“Mick said he could read Snare’s thoughts,” Narducci said. “He didn’t claim to actually be Snare.”