Chapter 26
Malcolm checked the rearview mirror, but in the dark, he couldn’t see how close the monsters were. Violet had both hands on the dashboard as if she were worried about crashing, though they all knew the real threat was behind them, not ahead.
“Faster!” Jennie barked from the back seat. “This thing’s not old enough to be this slow!”
“They didn’t build it to go faster,” Malcolm said, flooring the gas as the minibus rumbled up a long hill, recent ranch homes and split-levels on either side.
The rain had stopped, at least for now. There were lights on in some of the homes. A few people had come out into the driveway, and two cars had already pulled out and started in the other direction. People stared as they passed, but their curious faces flashed by and were forgotten.
“We should warn them,” Violet said, her face pale. “Root and the rest … Elias … they’re coming.”
She started to crank down her window.
Jennie reached over the seat and touched her shoulder. “Don’t.”
“Those people are in danger,” Violet argued as they approached a spot where two families seemed to have emerged from their homes and congregated around their mailboxes. “I don’t want to slow down, but at least—”
“No,” Malcolm said. “Jennie’s right.”
“But they killed everyone back there, at the train,” Violet said as Malcolm drove right past the mailbox crowd. “They’re after us, but they took the time to murder everyone, almost like—”
“Like once they started, they couldn’t help themselves,” Jennie said. “I think that may be true.”
Malcolm felt vile. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the minibus crested the hill.
The town they’d seen before came back into view now—a few intersecting streets, a church on a triangular green, a brick town hall, with shops and a butcher’s and other businesses, all of them closed.
But closed didn’t mean there were no people.
Some of the shops had apartments above them, and people had come down to the street and begun to gather.
A police car flashed by, lights and siren going, headed the opposite direction. The car didn’t even slow down, focused on the trouble ahead, not the Volkswagen minibus.
Violet had been staring at him. Malcolm felt it, ignored it. Until she spoke.
“You think they can’t stop now that they’ve started,” she said, voice a horrified whisper. “You think they’re going to murder everyone in their path—”
“I don’t know how it works,” Jennie said. “I only know what I’ve been taught. If you get in their way, or if you’re vulnerable or wounded, or if they’re very hungry or angry and they see easy prey, they’ll take it.”
Malcolm stared at his sister in the rearview mirror. He had a question, but Violet asked it for him.
“Who taught you that?”
Jennie’s laugh was laced with grief. “Who do you think? Dear old Mom.”
No piano notes came from the rear of the minibus, but Malcolm felt Maggie’s presence back there in the crate just the same. He glanced in the mirror again.
“Malcolm!” Jennie shouted.
He slammed on the brakes. The minibus juddered to a halt. Outlined in the headlights were half a dozen people, all of them tensed for impact. An elderly couple were at the center, both with their palms up to stop them from passing through.
“Christ!” Malcolm laid on the horn, but nobody moved.
“They came out into the road,” Jennie said.
The faces of the people in the street held no suspicion, only worry.
“I’ll make it quick,” Malcolm said, rolling down his window.
“Just drive,” Jennie hissed.
“Through them?” Violet asked, glaring at the back seat.
Malcolm tried to ignore them, tipping his head out the window. “What are you doing, folks? Can you get out of the road?”
The elderly couple came around to the driver’s side, but the rest of them stayed blocking the minibus.
They’d dressed hurriedly, and the old man wore a thin sweater but hadn’t bothered with a jacket.
He hugged himself against the November night.
The rain had stopped, but Malcolm thought the air smelled like snow.
“What’s happened?” the old man asked. When he frowned, his face had so many crinkles his skin looked shattered. “We all heard an ungodly loud noise quite a while ago, and then the police and firemen went out.”
“I’m telling you, George, it has to be the train,” his wife said. Her arms were crossed. Behind her glasses, her gaze was cutting. Judging.
“We saw the police and fire trucks, too,” Malcolm said. “But I don’t know about the train. Would you mind getting out of the road?”
Something had changed in the old woman’s face. She adjusted her glasses and stepped closer, almost near enough for Malcolm to smell her breath.
“Who are you, son? Because I recognize that little van, but I don’t recognize you.”
Her husband stiffened. “You’ve seen this before, honey?”
“So have you. Belongs to Frank McClure’s girl, Ginny.”
Violet whispered his name.
Malcolm took a deep breath. “Tell your people to step aside.”
“I think you oughta turn off the engine there and sit tight until we can sort this out,” the old man said.
Malcolm felt the weight of the shotgun barrel as it slid over his left shoulder and jutted out the driver’s-side window.
“Get out of the way or I’ll spray this old bitch’s brains all over the pavement,” Jennie called loudly.
“Jennie, no!” Violet shouted.
The old woman blinked. The people in the road scurried out of their path.
Violet cranked her window down. “Everyone, please, get back inside! Lock your doors! There’s…” What could she say that wouldn’t sound insane? “There was something radioactive on the train! It’s in the air, and it’s spreading. People are dying!”
Malcolm hit the gas, and the minibus pulled away, leaving them to return to the middle of the street and stand in the red taillights, watching the Volkswagen leave them behind.
Violet poked her head out the window, watching and hoping they would believe her, but none of them seemed in any hurry to go home.
“You tried,” Malcolm said quietly.
It wasn’t enough. Violet felt sick to her stomach.
A minute or two passed in silence as the town vanished behind them.
There were a few streetlamps still burning along the road ahead, but soon, they’d passed beyond the limits of those lights, and only the occasional house dotted the sides of the road.
Homes in which people still slept, unaware of the danger coming, but perhaps safe because of it.
“You’re letting those people die just to slow the monsters down,” Violet said at last.
“If we try to help them,” Malcolm said, “we’re dead.”
“We should have done more. We still could.”
“If it helps,” Jennie said, “I promise you that no matter how many people die tonight, it’s a drop in the bucket compared to how many will die in this country if we don’t fulfill Maggie’s wishes.”
“What are you talking about?” Malcolm asked.
“Keep driving.”
“He’s driving, goddamn it!” Violet said. “But it’s time for you to start explaining yourself.”
“Besides, I think we’ve lost them.” Malcolm glanced around, checked his side mirrors, and saw nothing moving in the dark.
“You think we’re safe now?” Jennie asked. “You might have been Maggie’s golden child, little brother, but you’ve got a lot to learn.”