But he didn't have it.
Matt did.
And he was pointing it at Andy.
'It's over.'
'Who are you kidding? You can't shoot me.' Andy looked over at the sorting table, which was covered with cant hooks for turning logs. 'Because you like me. You really, really like me.'
'I won't let you hurt anyone else.'
'But you and your parents didn't mind letting my daddy hurt me every single fucking day. And you don't even want to know what he did to my mother.' Andy perused the cant hooks, hefting one and then another, shopping for just the right one for the task. 'You knew it was happening, but you just didn't care.'
'I did,' Matt said. 'But there was nothing I could do about it. I've tried to make it up to you ever since.'
The mill rumbled again as the helicopter made another pass, raking the interior with light. Matt could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer.
'What you've done, Matt, is make my life miserable.' Andy found a cant hook he liked and lifted it up. The curled, hardened-steel edge was sharpened to a fine point.
'You wouldn't get off my fucking back. You were always there, showing me how much better you were, how much happier you were, and what a shit-bag loser I was by comparison.'
'I was trying to be there for you, to help you.'
'Bullshit. You just wanted to keep reminding me that my dad was right. The only favor you ever did for me was dying. And you didn't even have the fucking decency to stay dead.' Andy hefted the cant hook and advanced on Matt. 'Try harder this time.'
Andy swung the cant hook at him.
Matt leapt back and barely evaded getting snagged by the sharp point.
'Stop, Andy, or I will shoot you.'
'You don't have the balls.' Andy swung again.
Matt fired two shots into Andy's chest.
Andy looked down at his chest, then back up at Matt.
Andy's face and neck were restored.
The rot was gone.
He cocked his head, regarded Matt for a moment with an expression of profound sadness, and then collapsed.
Matt fell to his knees and dropped the gun on the floor. He stared at Andy, his oldest friend and the first person that he'd ever killed, and couldn't help wondering…
Was the sadness Andy felt in that last dying moment for himself…
…or was it for me?
And that's when he heard it, almost lost in the rumble of the helicopter overhead and the wail of the police sirens outside and Silbert's whimpering.
It was barely audible, but it was there, he was sure of it.
The receding sound of wicked laughter.
As he listened to the laughter fade, his gaze fell on something small, wet, and sticky lying in the sawdust on the floor.
A freshly licked lollipop.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Matt sat on the hood of a cop car, watching all the activity while he waited to be allowed to go home. Entire families and kids on bicycles crowded around the sawmill fence, watching and waiting for something to happen. Scores of police officers scurried around, scribbling in their notepads and generally looking dazed and confused. The Sheriff's Department helicopter circled overhead, aiming its spotlight here and there, for no apparent reason. Crime scene investigators crawled all over Andy's car, taking pictures and scraping things into baggies, though Matt didn't see the point of any of it.
Andy had massacred six people and now he was dead.
Matt had killed him.
Case closed.
What more did they need to know?
Matt, on the other hand, had all kinds of questions, none of which could be answered by a geek in a forensics lab.
Andy was going bad days before the massacre, and only Matt could see it (although, to be fair, people had been telling him for years that Andy was an asshole).
How was it possible?
Then again, how was anything in Matt's life possible since the avalanche?
A few yards away, Roger Silbert sat in the back of an open ambulance, his head bandaged and a blanket around his waist to hide his soiled pants, giving a statement to a uniformed officer.
'What can I say? Andy Goodis was a deranged, disgruntled employee. He was also a drunk. I'd been warning people about him since I got this job, but nobody would listen. This is the tragic result.'
Matt became aware of someone approaching him. He turned to look and was surprised to see Rachel coming his way.
'What are you doing here?' he asked.
'The police ran the plates on my car, wanted to know if it had been stolen,' she said. 'I told them my husband had it and I demanded to see him. Hope you don't mind the lie about us, but it was the only way they'd let me in to see you.'
'It's okay,' he said. 'I'm glad you're here.'
She stood in front of the cop car and gave him a hug. 'Are you all right?'
Matt shook his head. 'Something is wrong, Rachel. I can feel it. Even worse, I saw Andy become evil.'
He'd also smelled it, but he didn't want to mention that.
'Of course you did,' she said. 'We all did. You just didn't want to see it.'
'There's a lot I didn't want to see. But I can't pretend anymore. Something happened to me. And nothing is the same.'
'Not all of it is bad,' she said.
'There's a reason I'm not dead.'
'And she's standing right in front of you,' she said. 'At least, that's what you told me.'
'I'm afraid there's more to it. I think it has something to do with Andy, and the way I saw him rot. And I'm afraid that somehow, I'm the reason it happened.'
As if on cue, the coroners emerged from the sawmill, wheeling Andy out in a body bag on a gurney.
Matt looked past her and she followed his gaze.
The coroners pushed the gurney up to the van body and were about to slide it inside when they stopped in midmotion.
And so did everybody else.
Matt looked at Rachel and saw her standing stock-still, her head turned, looking at the gurney without blinking, without breathing.
'Rachel?' He waved his hand in front of her face. 'Can you hear me?'
But there was no reaction. She was a statue. Everything was still. Everything was silent. It was as if time had simply…
Stopped.
Even the helicopter was suspended in the air, its blades no longer moving.
Impossible.
But there was a lot of that going around lately.
