Doppelganger Page 22

  Bill passed in front of the truck, followed closely by John, both with their pistols out.

  James followed their example. He stepped out of the car and drew his own pistol. He set off after Emilio.

  They crashed through the brush and saplings until they finally caught up with Emilio. He had stopped about thirty yards from the edge of the woods. His rifle was still at his shoulder and leveled toward where the beast had last been seen.

  Out of breath, John gasped a couple of times before blurting out, “Did you get it?”

  “Hush!” Emilio snapped.

  They stood there with only the sound of John’s gasping breath breaking the silence, as Emilio listened for any movement.

  “I’m not sure, but I think I hit it,” Emilio said in a quiet voice that was almost, but not quite, a whisper. “We still need to be careful. It may not be dead, and I don’t want to blunder into that thing while it’s wounded.”

  Emilio craned his neck, trying to see over the brush and high grass, then, without turning his eyes from the woods before them, he said, “I’m going to move in. We need to spread out, but not far. Bill, I need you and James to stay about ten feet on either side of me and advance as I do. I’ve got the firepower, so I’ll cover all three of us. You two worry about covering yourselves and me should it catch me off guard. John, I want you to follow behind us at about twenty feet. If that thing should get through and take one of us down, it’s your job to kill it before it kills us.”

  John’s job would be all but impossible should it become necessary, and they all knew it. They had all seen how fast that thing was and how quickly it could kill. If it got through to someone, that someone was going to die.

  They all spread out, and once Emilio saw they were in place he started moving slowly forward.

  The tall grass and brush was just over waist deep. Emilio told the others to spread out a little more so the beast couldn’t bowl them all over in one quick rush, but James feared it would take advantage of the tall grass and come in low, taking one of them out, then turning on the others.

  James’ heart was pounding so loud he was certain that if they were to stop and listen they would all be able to hear it. He held his pistol tightly in his hand and his eyes constantly swept the woods before him. It wasn’t hot, but sweat was beginning to trickle off his forehead.

  Just past the edge of the woods, Emilio stopped. Keeping the AR-15 aimed at the woods, he slowly dropped to one knee. He took his left hand from the gun’s forearm and reached down to the ground. His head stayed up, only his eyes looked down.

  “It fell here.” His hand moved some more pine straw and twigs. A smile creased his lips. “Blood.”

  “You hit it?” John asked, between pants. James suddenly found John’s labored breathing immensely irritating. The police chief was overweight, but there was little doubt that he should have gotten his wind back by now.

  “Think so,” Emilio answered. He got back to his feet. “But I doubt I killed it. Not enough blood.”

  They continued slowly into the woods, but they didn’t go much further. James could tell there wasn’t enough blood on the trail for the creature to be mortally wounded, and like Emilio said earlier, he didn’t want to blunder into the beast while it was wounded.

  * * *

  There was a loud bang, then a sharp pain ripped through the beast’s shoulder as the .223 bullet tore its way through, entering on the outside rear and passing out the front, grazing the upper part of the beast’s shoulder bone as it passed through. The shot caught the beast in mid-stride, and, when its weight came down on its arms, a numbness shot through its right shoulder and on down its arm, causing it to fall headlong at the edge of the woods. The fall may very well have saved the beast’s life, however, since just as it fell there were seven more loud bangs, and the beast could hear a series of crisp popping noises above it as the bullets passed just overhead at supersonic speeds.

  The beast had an extremely high pain threshold. As a result, it had never really felt pain. Even when Chelsea had knocked it to the ground, the horse hadn’t done so with enough force to actually hurt the beast. Now, the beast felt pain for the first time. Although a bullet tearing through a shoulder would have been much more painful to any other creature, it was a new and entirely alien feeling. The beast was scared at first — another new feeling — then it burned with an intense hatred for the creature that had caused this pain.

  The beast scrambled to its feet, and, with its right arm drawn into its chest, it lurched off.

  After it traveled another fifty yards away from its attackers, the beast ascended a small rise. It placed itself behind a tree, and peered through the woods at the approaching four figures. It raised its snout and sniffed the air. One of the four, the one walking behind the others, was unfamiliar; the beast assumed this one was unimportant. But, the other three were very familiar, one very much so. It had smelled all three of them when it occasionally returned to areas where it had made kills.

  A cloud passed overhead, briefly obstructing the glaring sun, at the same time the wind shifted in the beast’s direction. This enabled the beast to get a fairly good look at what was approaching. Yes, it had seen and smelled them before, often, in fact. The one on the right was the one it had named The Dying One in its speechless mind. Every time the beast had returned to a place where it had killed, his smell would be there. It could smell disease on the old man’s breath.

  The one on the left had been named The One Who Sees. The beast knew of a strange tie between itself and The One Who Sees, but it wasn’t until just now that it understood that when The One Who Sees slept, he was able to see inside the beast’s head while it was hunting.

  The one in the middle was the primary target of the beast’s hatred. He was now called The One Who Caused Pain. The beast saw a large object in the hands of The One Who Caused Pain. It recognized this object as the thing The One Who Caused Pain had used to inflict the injury to its shoulder. The beast watched as The One Who Caused Pain instructed the others to spread out. The beast took a long look at each one present. Hatred spread through its mind, especially for the creature in the center. Its rage was so powerful that the beast almost lumbered down the hill and charged the four, but it knew how badly the big object had hurt it and saw that the other three creatures had similar — if somewhat smaller — objects. It reluctantly decided against an attack.

  The beast quietly descended the other side of the small hill and moved further into the woods.

  Chapter 21

  The One Who Caused Pain

  When Bill, James, and Emilio arrived back at the station, Sam was there waiting.

  “What happened?” he asked as they came through the door.

  “Let’s step into my office,” Bill said.

  Once they were settled in their customary seats, Sam asked. “Will someone please tell me what the hell happened this morning?”

  Sam had just returned from a short trip out to his father’s place and was told that Bill, James, and Emilio had lit out this morning without telling anyone where they were going. He knew it had to be a development in the case. Sam had been in Austin when Jana Parish was killed and now this. All he could think about was, I’ll be damned if I let any of them out of my sight again.

  “James saw where that thing’s been hidin’ durin’ the day in one of his dreams. It was underneath the old Beulah Church,” Bill explained.

  “Beulah Church? Never heard of it.”

  “A black church down a dirt road off fourteen-fourteen. It hasn’t been used in years.”

  Sam still didn’t remember it, but he nodded and waved his hand for Bill to go on.

  “We took Emilio’s truck down the dirt road to the church. When we came around the corner, it came out from under the church and made for the woods. Emilio got out and fired at it, and we think he winged it.”

  Sam’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Sure did,” Emilio said, making like he was holding an invisible rifle i
n his hands. He pulled an invisible trigger and added, “I plugged the hell out of it.”

  Bill continued, “We found blood, but not much. I don’t think it’s mortally wounded, but at least we know the damn thing bleeds.”

  “Did you try to track it?”

  “Not for long. Like I said, I don’t think it’s mortally wounded, and we weren’t too big on the idea of following that thing into the underbrush.”

  Hearing the fact that the beast wasn’t mortally wounded repeated twice, Emilio decided he should throw in, “I think it may have been walking on three legs after I hit it. It may have a crippled arm now.”

  Everyone, Emilio included, had the sinking feeling they had just missed their best opportunity to kill the beast. They had caught it unprepared, at its lair, and probably asleep. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. They couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if they had stopped the noisy four-wheel drive a few hundred yards from the church and crept up. Emilio’s shot had been nothing short of amazing, but he kept wondering if he’d just been a little more accurate. Bill wondered if he had taken his time, or maybe if he’d brought more men with him. Sam was kicking himself in the ass for not being around when it all happened; he wondered if he had been there if they might have bagged the beast. And James privately wondered if things might have turned out better if he’d awakened during the dream and they’d tried to kill the beast while it was in town. They had come so close to come up empty-handed.

  * * *

  When Sam placed Emilio in charge of all the game wardens currently operating in Newton County, Emilio had been flattered. Now he looked at his new position as more of a pain in the ass than anything else. First off, it was an odd position for him to be in; over three quarters of the game wardens under him had more years of experience, and not all of them exactly appreciated being passed over. He also found that it was a lot more work than he’d expected. Not only was he still working the all-night patrols, but when he came in the next morning, he had to check in with Bill and Sam, who, since they’d had a full night’s sleep, invariably wanted to talk for hours on end about the current situation. Afterwards Emilio still had to do all the necessary paperwork and interview any game wardens who thought they saw anything the night before. And, just when it was beginning to look like he was going to get to go home and get some rest, a game warden would want to talk to him about a problem with his schedule. Emilio went on duty at eight each evening, and he usually didn’t get home until around noon; a full sixteen-hour shift, sometimes longer.

  Yesterday, just after Emilio had gone home, one of the game wardens had seen some buzzards circling off Lee’s Mill Road. When they investigated they found what appeared to be the remains of a hunter who had been killed several weeks ago, possibly near the beginning of hunting season. It appeared to be another victim. As usual, Bill had called Emilio out to look at the scene. Sure enough, there were tracks all around the area. James said he hadn’t seen this one, but judging the advanced stage of decomposition, the hunter had been killed during the first week of the month when James was on Xanax and not having his visions. By the time Emilio was finished at the scene, he was only able to get a two-hour nap before going back on patrol that night.

  Today had turned out to be almost as long a day as yesterday. After this morning’s excitement out at the Beulah Church, Bill and Sam wanted to talk even longer than usual. It was past noon before he was able to leave Bill’s office. As it turned out, there wasn’t very much paperwork to do, and only a couple of game wardens came in to talk about their patrols, but it was still almost three before Emilio could head home. He was dead tired, and would probably only get three hours of sleep before he went back on patrol.

  Now I know how James feels, Emilio thought as he fought to keep his heavy eyelids from shutting while he pulled down the short dirt drive to his trailer.

  Parked in front was another game warden vehicle, this one a pickup. It belonged to Bret Fuller, a game warden from West Texas who had been assigned as Emilio’s partner. He wasn’t with Emilio this morning because he had gone home to get some rest while Emilio worked over the details of the schedule with the sheriff. Emilio would be glad when Bret was gone. The man was too nit-picky clean, and he snored worse than anyone Emilio had ever heard. It sounded like Bret had a sawmill running wide open in his throat. Even with the door to his bedroom shut, and wads of toilet paper crammed in his ears, it still took some time before Emilio could get to sleep with all the racket. He doubted it would be a problem today; he was exhausted.

  As he got out of the car, he saw Bret coming from around the side of the building.

  “You’re running late today. What’s up at the office?”

  “It’s a long story,” Emilio said as he walked toward his door.

  Emilio was normally a perceptive man. He probably would have wondered why Bret had been around the side of the building. Or maybe he would have noticed Bret was approaching him just a little too eagerly. Or he might have just felt something was out of place, even though the beast had yet to become so bold as to attack someone in broad daylight. But, right now, Emilio was exhausted and his mind was set on getting into his bed.

  When he got almost a third of the way from his truck to the door, he heard something coming from inside the trailer. Snoring.

  He turned and ran for his truck. The beast, which was about halfway from the side of the house, dropped to all fours and darted toward him. Given a lead of about fifty feet, Emilio was able to get to the Blazer, get inside, get the key in the ignition, and he even managed to turn the key and crank the engine before the beast reached him.

  But the beast was there before he could put the truck in gear.

  The beast’s clawed hand burst through the driver’s side window, sending shattered glass flying throughout the cab. Emilio flung himself across the seat just in time as the beast raked its claws across the back of the seat, leaving five deep tears that would have been on Emilio’s upper chest and throat.

  Emilio reached up and tried to put the Blazer into reverse, but missed by one and put it into neutral.

  Just as the beast began to prepare for another of its catlike swipes with its clawed hands, Emilio brought his feet out from under the steering wheel and kicked, his boot catching the Bret-thing in the mouth. The blow threw the beast off balance, and when it lashed out only the claws of its two lower fingers managed to find their mark. They made two deep, painful, gouges across Emilio’s upper left leg. The hard swing continued and smashed into the dash, destroying the SUV’s radio, and ripping several wires belonging to the police radio and lights.

  Emilio lashed out again, this time missing the beast’s face. However, the boot connected with the beast’s right shoulder; a direct hit on the bloody exit wound made by the .223 bullet this morning.

  The beast recoiled and howled in pain. It staggered backwards, out of the window. Still lying across the seat Emilio reached up and threw the truck into reverse, bringing his feet back to the floorboard and slamming on the gas. He rose up just in time to see a utility pole in his rearview mirror.

  The SUV slammed into the pole, but luckily the air bag didn’t deploy. Emilio reached for his rifle, but saw he didn’t have time. Looking through the windshield, he could see the Bret-thing running toward him on all fours.

  “Come on, you son-of-a-bitch!” Emilio yelled, as he threw the truck in drive and put his foot to the floor. The SUV took off in a cloud of dust.

  * * *

  The beast was furious. Here was the one who had dared inflict pain. It had been so close, almost had him; it had even drawn blood. It could smell him. It could smell his blood. But, then he had lashed out and caused pain again. Its vision was poor in the daytime, but as the big green vehicle bore down on a collision course, it saw The One Who Caused Pain through the glass. Hatred reined in its dark heart, pushing all thoughts of caution into a dark, forgotten corner.

  With a shriek, it leaped into the air.

  With arms outstretch
ed the beast propelled itself across the hood, smashing claws first into the windshield. The windshield spider-webbed where the beast’s clawed hands struck the glass, followed by its head and its body. The beast flipped over the roof of the truck and landed on the ground behind it.

  * * *

  The impact shook the SUV, then the beast flipped overhead and out of sight. Emilio slammed on the brakes, but not soon enough to prevent a collision with the rear end of Bret’s pickup. This time the airbag did deploy. Since Emilio hadn’t had time to fasten his seatbelt, the airbag slammed into him as it met him halfway to the steering wheel, busting his nose and almost knocking the wind out of him.

  Emilio glanced in the rearview mirror; about thirty yards behind the truck he saw the beast picking itself up from the ground. Emilio’s first reaction was to back up and run over it again, but when he reached for the gearshift he found the engine had died.

  “What the hell’s going on out there?” Bret yelled from the porch. All the commotion had awakened him from his deep slumber. Despite the cold, he was standing in the doorway wearing only his boxer shorts and a t-shirt.

  “It’s out here, Bret!” Emilio screamed

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “The beast!” Emilio shouted, “The thing that’s been doing all the killing!”

  Emilio looked in his rearview mirror. It wasn’t there! Where was it?

  “Oh my God!” Emilio yelled.

  In his mind he could picture the creature approaching in one of the SUV’s blind spot, coming in low with its body coiled and its long claws and teeth ready. Emilio frantically tried to get his AR-15 from its mount behind the seat, but his trembling hands were having difficulty with the latches.