Chapter 16 #3
Suddenly something explodes on the windshield; a mess of orange fleshy chunks and slimy fibrous strings seems to bloom from the center of the glass.
They exchange a panicked glance as Leroux slams on the brakes, instinctively veering to the side of the road.
By the time the car skids to a stop, they find themselves in defensive positions, breathing heavily.
“What the hell was that?” Leroux yells, unbuckling his seat belt and throwing the car door open.
Wren shakes her head, unable to respond, then gets out the passenger side. Together they walk to the front of the car and survey the carnage. The object that hit the windshield was a small pumpkin. It’s now smashed into chunks, its guts dripping down the glass.
Leroux wastes no time, swiveling his head around to look for the person who threw it. “Come out and show yourself, you rat fuck!” he shouts loudly, his hands balled into fists as he walks toward a yard with a small toolshed off to one side.
Wren’s eyes flick away from the pumpkin and begin to scan the area, but she finds no one. It’s quiet except for a dog barking from a house down the street. As she frantically continues to search, she sees Leroux stalking toward the shed in the yard next to them.
“John, no! What are you doing? You can’t just break open people’s sheds.” She rushes toward him, pulling him by the arm away from the structure. He’s breathing heavily, rage buzzing in his eyes.
“I have probable cause, Muller!” he shouts, his expression angrier than she has seen before. “That’s reckless endangerment!”
She shakes her head, renewing her grip on his arm. “It was probably some dumb kids. Take a breath.”
He stares at her for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching a few times, before he wrenches his arm away and rubs a hand down his face. Puffing a deep breath out through his nose, he begins to walk back toward the car. “I hate Halloween,” he says, gruffly.
She follows, then notices a couple of residents peeking at them through curtains. The dog continues to bark, but she doesn’t see another soul outside.
“Help me get this shit off, please,” Leroux says, leaning over the car to pluck chunks of pumpkin off the windshield and throw them into the middle of the street. Wren pulls a few pieces off too, the adrenaline of the whole day finally crashing down on her like a wave.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says, pushing pumpkin guts off the front of the car with her hands.
The flesh has black spots, and the chunks leave slime behind.
This pumpkin was rotting, only slightly, but the smell is rancid.
“I think we’re attracting some curious neighbors,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
She gestures to the house behind her, where an older woman stands at the glass door in a housecoat, holding a cat. She stares at them suspiciously through oversized glasses, a scowl on her face. Leroux waves a dismissive hand at her, and she sneers at him in response.
“Who cares. They’re the type to keep their mouths shut anyways. I bet she saw the whole thing.”
His voice is tinged with irritation as he slides into the driver’s seat.
Wren settles into her seat and tries to find her breath again.
The tension in the car suddenly becomes thick and smothering.
The comedown from the surprise attack—or whatever it really was—leaves them both feeling agitated and unpleasantly electrified.
Her nervous system is unable to understand why she’s suddenly sitting and not running for her life.
Everything feels as if it’s had a veil thrown over it.
The sudden assault on the windshield set off a surge of fear and adrenaline that would normally cause Wren to spring into action, but instead, she hesitated for a moment while Leroux jumped out of the car.
One second of indecision can change everything.
She can’t help but transport back to the moment in the woods when Jeremy locked her in place just by saying her name.
She’d hesitated. She’d promised herself she would never do that again, never leave something up to seconds.
Luckily, this time it wasn’t life or death.
But who threw the pumpkin? Where did they disappear to?
She runs the scenario over in her head again, wondering if this is a sign for them to keep prodding, keep overturning stones.
Or maybe it’s a warning, someone telling them to stay out of the shadows, out of the places where suffering reigns, where humanity doesn’t exist, the places where Beth may be waiting to be saved.
“We need to talk to Kathryn,” Wren says quietly, not wanting to break the uncomfortable silence that has fallen over the car like a frost. “Otherwise I worry we won’t find Philip in time.”
Leroux’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter.
Frustration still pulls at his features.
“I just want Beth to come out of this alive. I can’t leave her survival up to chance.
” He says the words like he still needs to convince Wren, like she didn’t just say herself that they should go talk to Kathryn.
“You don’t need to explain, John,” she says.
He steals a glance at her, his grip loosening on the steering wheel. “Quick trip. In and out in one day,” he promises.
“In and out,” she answers.
Like a scorpion’s sting.