Mystery Walk

Billy heard the thin, high screaming in his head; the noise grew louder and then ebbed. He said, 'Wait,' and Wayne stopped. The screaming was agonized, terrified; Krepsin and the others were still here, caught at the instant of their deaths. Abruptly, the screaming stopped as if it had been squeezed off. Billy listened, feeling a cold chill work through him. Now there was only silence.

Something was different, Billy thought. Something was wrong. The hair at the back of his neck was standing up. He felt danger here. The shape changer, Billy thought, and was suddenly afraid. What had happened to the shape changer? If it fed off the evil in Krepsin, Niles, and Dorn, might it not swell with hideous, consumptive strength?

Billy said, 'Let's get out of here. Right now.' He started off again. Wayne stared down at Krepsin's corpse for a moment, then followed.

Behind them, one of Krepsin's swollen, burned hands moved. The fingers crept down and worked the seatbelt loose. It shrugged free of the seat, and grinned with a mouthful of shattered teeth. Its face turned toward the figures who were walking fifty yards away; its eyes had changed, now burning red and animalish. The reanimated corpse crawled through the palmetto, muttering and chuckling. Powered by a surge of evil stronger than anything it had ever consumed, the shape changer rose slowly on its scorched, swollen legs. Its hands clenched into fists as it watched the figures walking away. This body was still strong, not like the others that had been torn to pieces and gnawed on by the vultures. This body could be used.

The thing prowled through the wreckage, getting used to the feel of its fleshy cocoon. It giggled and muttered, ready now to smash and crush and rip. Vultures squalled and flew away from the lumbering thing; it sought Niles's headless body, ripped open the coat, and dug a thick hand into the pocket. It brought out a leather pouch, tied with a drawstring. The prize inside wouldn't fit on the swollen hand; impatiently, the shape changer snapped off the first joints of the fingers and jammed the prize onto the stubs.

Sharp pieces of razor blades gleamed in the sunlight. It was the weapon that Niles had used to slash Henry Bragg's throat.

Krepsin's face turned toward the distant figures; the red eyes glared out as if through a bloated, bruised mask of flesh. Now it had human form—and superhuman, evil-charged strength—and it would show them it would not be cheated. The thing swung its arm in a vicious arc and grinned. Now it would show them both.

The corpse waddled after them, with murder flaring in its eyes.

63

The sun burned down relentlessly. Cradling his injured arm, Billy saw that he'd misjudged the distance to that range of mountains. They'd been walking for over thirty minutes, and still the cactus-covered foothills seemed at least another half-mile away. The mountains were boulder-strewn ridges of tortured earth, red rock shimmering in rising heat waves. He could see a few scattered caves, though; there were maybe twelve, most of them little more than shallow cracks. He was losing liquid in rivulets, his head pounding from the deadly weight of the sun. His feet, bruised and cut by the rough desert pavement, were leaving bloody prints.

Wayne staggered, about to pass out. His nose was bleeding again, the liquid attracting a horde of flies. His face felt like a sheet of hot metal, and as he lifted his gaze toward the sky his single eye saw the two vultures that were circling overhead. One for each of them, he thought, and almost giggled. One would get the dark meat, one would get the white. They were going to die out here. It would be soon, and it was no use to keep walking. They might as well just lie down right here and let the vultures go to work. He lagged behind Billy, then abruptly sat down.

Billy turned and stopped. 'Get up.'

'No. I'm hurting too much. It's too hot.' He sucked in a lungful of searing air, and the pain in his side flared. He watched as Billy stepped back toward him. 'Want me to heal you?' he asked, and grinned. 'Want me to lay my hands on you and make you all right? Take a number.'

'We don't have much farther to go. Come on.'

He shook his head. 'I'm burned out. There's nothing left.' Wayne's eyes closed. 'The snake's won,' he said. 'It's killed the eagle. ...'

'What? What snake and eagle?'

'I see them in a dream, fighting. The snake bit the eagle, bit it right in the heart, and pulled it down from the sky.'

Billy remembered how his eagle had clamped its beak down on the snake's head, how in his dream it seemed to be winning. 'The eagle's smoke?' he said. 'And the snake's fire?'

Wayne's eyes snapped open, his head cocked to one side. 'How'd you know that?'

'What I told you on the plane, about your mother,' Billy said, 'was true. You have to believe me. There's still time for you to be strong; there's still time for the eagle to win.'

Sweat dripped off Wayne's chin, making a dark puddle on the ground. 'I always wanted to fly. But somehow I . . . always ended up crawling. I wish I'd known more about her. And about you, too. Maybe things would've been different. Go on, now. Leave me alone.'

But Billy was looking out across the desert, toward the haze of black smoke where the Challenger lay. He saw the figure approaching, now about a hundred yards away. The mottled, bloated body waddled toward them, legs pumping in a frantic hurry.

Wayne peered over his shoulder, his vision blurring in and out. 'Krepsin,' he said hoarsely. 'He's not dead. ...'

The body was moving in a jerky pantomime of life; with each step, the head joggled from side to side as if the neck had been snapped. Its shoes stirred up puffs of dust. The shattered left shoulder made the arm swing like a fleshy pendulum.

No, Billy thought; that's not Krepsin. That's something wearing Krepsin's flesh, something hurrying now to catch them before they reached the foothills.

'Wait for me, boys!' the thing roared, a rasping voice forced through Krepsin's dead vocal cords. 'I've got a present for you! Look, it's something shiny!' The thing bellowed and snorted, and swung its right hand in a quick arc. Billy saw sunlight glint off a metal object. 'Wayne? Billy? Wait for me right there! I'm coming!'

The shape changer, Billy knew. Only now it wasn't playing games, wasn't shifting masks to confuse him and Wayne. It was wearing human flesh, muscle, and sinew; it was tracking them down, gobbling and snorting with glee. And in that form, Billy realized, no mental tricks were needed; it would tear them to pieces. 'Get up, Wayne. Hurry.'

Wayne rose to his feet, wincing from the pain. Then he and Billy were hobbling away, trying to put distance between them and the thing. It shouted, 'YOU CAN'T RUN! THERE'S NOWHERE TO HIDE!' It tried to break into a run too, but the lumbering unwieldy legs collapsed and the shape changer fell to the ground. Sputtering with rage, it forced itself up again and moved onward.

The heat quickly slowed Billy and Wayne down. The behemoth stalked after them, keeping a steady pace.

'WAYNE!' the shape changer shouted. 'He's trying to trick you! He's a demon, the son of Satan! He's trying to mix up your head! Can't you see me? I'm alive!'

'No,' Wayne whispered, 'you're dead . . . you're dead . . . you're ...'

The voice changed, became feminine and softly seductive. 'Wayne? I'm waiting for you at the lake! Want to go swimmin'? Don't run away, Wayne! Wait for me!' And then, thunderously, 'I'LL KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE FUCK!'

'Don't listen!' Billy said.

'Billy?' the thing called out. 'Do you know who you're trying to help? He had them kill your mother, Billy. Know how it was done? They cut her throat. They cut it right to the spine. Then your pretty little Hawthorne house was set on fire so everything would be ashes! He wanted to have you killed, too! Oh, he dreamed of killing you! GO ON, ASK HIM!'

'Don't look back,' Billy told Wayne; his voice was choked with conflicting emotions.

They reached the foothills and began climbing. The terrain grew rockier and steeper. Behind them, the shape