the barking of the dogs of Pyrite, which grew in volume and intensity as the boat drew nearer to shore.
When they reached the pier, Williams grabbed Culann by the arm and yanked him over the side. Culann stumbled onto the planks, catching himself with his cuffed hands.
The gash in his hand throbbed. Williams jerked him to his feet and marched him to shore with Schuler trailing behind.
Schuler and Williams hunched over to inspect Margaret’s body. The dogs churned around them. Williams tried to push them away at first, but quickly gave up. The dogs seemed to Culann to have hopelessly contaminated the crime scene. The officers seemed to reach the same conclusion as they arose shaking their heads.
“How many more bodies are here?” Schuler asked.
“Thirty-two were dead this morning,” Culann replied, “and nine more died later in the day, including the three in the rowboat and Constance.”
Just saying her name caused an odd stirring in Culann’s stomach. It wasn’t grief and it wasn’t lust. It was more a simple appreciation for the grace and beauty that had briefly been in his presence. He didn’t understand the feeling and figured he wouldn’t be in Alaska right now if he did.
“I don’t know,” Schuler said. “I’m starting to think he’s telling the truth.”
Williams chewed on his lip for a moment and then said, “You may be right, but he’s still a disgusting piece of human garbage.”
“I think we need to trust him, at least as far as this virus is concerned.”
Williams turned his back and started walking towards Alistair’s bar. Culann stayed as close as possible to Schuler in case Williams decided to pull his gun out again.
Schuler stood still and watched her partner stalk off. The pack of dogs swirled around the two of them; none followed after Williams.
3
The three sat around the table in the bar. Alphonse rested his chin on Culann’s lap, but Culann didn’t pet him since he’d been warned about keeping his still-shackled hands in plain sight. Williams and Schuler each drank a beer from the rapidly warming cooler, which no longer received power from the conked-out generator. Culann eyed the beer bottles hungrily. He didn’t dare risk Williams’ ire by asking for one.
The officers had completed their sweep of the island and confirmed Culann’s casualty figures. As the number of dead bodies found increased, the level of conversation decreased. Williams hadn’t said a word in over thirty minutes.
Then he said, “We really are going to die.”
Schuler nodded. Culann doubted the two had much time left. He started thinking about what was going to happen after they were gone. He would be alone with thirty-nine dead bodies and innumerable dogs. His first order of business would be to do something with the bodies before the dogs started eating them.
“The bodies,” he said. “What should we do with them?”
“We’ll have to burn them,” Schuler said. “We can’t dig that many graves.”
“We can’t burn them,” Williams replied. “They’re evidence.”
“Evidence of what?” she asked. “Besides, anyone who comes around to dust for fingerprints is as dead as we are.”
“Well, if we’re dead anyway, the last thing I want to do is spend my final minutes dragging corpses around.”
“We can’t just leave them to rot in the sun.”
“Why not? You think anyone is going to give us a decent Christian burial when we’re gone?”
“I may not be able to bury you,” Culann said, “but I’m not just going to leave you.”
“Oh, that’s just great,” Williams said. “After I’m dead, a child molester is going to defile my body. I’d rather you just let me rot.”
“Fine,” Schuler said, “he’ll let you rot. I’m going to help him deal with the rest of these people.”
Williams stayed in the bar while Culann and Schuler went to work. They figured the simplest way to deal with so many bodies was to put them all in one of the shacks and set it on fire. They would need to choose one away from the view of the mainland to keep from luring anyone over. The problem was that the cabins furthest from mainland were surrounded by trees which could easily catch fire and set the whole island ablaze.
“What about your boat?” Culann asked. “We could probably stack everyone
onboard and light it on fire, like a Viking funeral.”
Schuler laughed and covered her mouth. Then she pulled her hand away and laughed again.
“I guess there’s nothing wrong with a little laughing,” she said, “since it’s going to be my ass on top of the pile.”
By the time the sun dipped near the horizon, which is as low as it would get for another few weeks, Schuler and Culann had loaded fifteen dead bodies, including Frank’s, into the police boat. Culann looked one last time at his cousin’s serene face before covering it with another body. They’d found an old wheelbarrow that made the task a little easier, although Culann couldn’t push it because he still had his hands cuffed.
Schuler said that she didn’t see the harm in letting him go, but Williams was liable to shoot him if his hands were free. Culann agreed with her.
“Do you think he might shoot me anyway?”
“I don’t think so, but who knows what a man’s capable of doing his last night on Earth.”
“Maybe I should keep my distance. Do you think it would be okay if I slept over at Frank’s place?”
“I don’t care. Which one is Frank’s?”
“The one on the end,” he said, pointing. “There’s some beer left in the refrigerator if you’d like to join me for a nightcap.”
“Drinking with a fugitive in my custody breaks about fifteen different regulations, but I don’t see the harm, under the circumstances. I might as well try to enjoy what’s left of my life.”
The two trudged down the road. Alphonse kept close to Culann while the other dogs orbited around. Culann held the door to the shack open for Schuler and Alphonse before squeezing himself in ahead of the other dogs who all surged forward to join them.
A floppy-eared pitbull and a big collie that looked like Lassie snuck in before Culann could wedge the door shut, but he managed to keep the bulk of the pack from overwhelming them inside. The others howled at the front door for a few minutes before plopping down in a great drowsy mass out front.
Schuler sat on Frank’s couch while Culann grabbed two beers from the refrigerator. He handed one to Schuler with his hands still bound.
“You want those off now?” she asked.
Culann glanced out the window to make sure Williams wasn’t around. When he saw that it was clear, he held his arms out. Schuler drew a small key from her belt and released the handcuffs. Two red lines rang his wrists.
“Free at last,” he said with a smirk.
“For now,” she said. “You know that if me or Williams lives through the night, we’re going to have to take you in. Plus, we didn’t check in like we were supposed to.
They are probably already sending more officers to look for us. It won’t be long before they think to look here.”
“Then they’re going to die, too. How can we stop them from coming?”
“We can’t. There’s a warrant out for your arrest, and this place is your last known whereabouts. The fact that two cops disappeared trying to find you is not exactly going to take the heat off. They’re probably going to send in the FBI or maybe the National Guard.”
“Jesus. I can’t be responsible for that many people dying.”
“You’re awfully worried about other people for a sex offender,” she said with a chuckle.
Culann had had enough of these types of jokes over the last few weeks, so he turned away from Schuler and sipped his beer.
