And how Eddie Shears was finally set free.
37
It had been silent for a time and Mitch was not liking that.
Then, again, he wasn’t liking any of this.
Oh, it had been a good plan they’d had, in theory. Come up here, rescue Chrissy?if she was even alive?and get the hell out. And now that had all fallen apart. Chrissy was most likely dead and who knew about the rest? He’d heard some shooting earlier, so maybe Tommy was still alive, but then again, maybe not.
Now Mitch was trapped in this fucking classroom with Hubb Sadler who looked like he was just about down to his last breath. They had a couple shotguns, some road flares, about thirty rounds of rock salt and that was about it. Yes, there was reason to worry. And the greatest reason of all was the silence which was just overwhelming. It had stopped raining now. The wind wasn’t even blowing.
Nothing but that heavy, impossible silence.
Over in the corner, Hubb was breathing hard, his face lined and strained looking like maybe he’d already had a good heart attack and was expecting another. “Funny how life kicks you right in the nuts, eh, Mitch?” he said. “You ain’t got it tough enough, goddamn life kicks you right in the mother-humping rocks and says, how’s that feel you, you silly ass-fucking lump of goatshit? How you like them apples now that I’ve shoved ‘em up your ass?”
Mitch wasn’t even really paying attention. “Yeah,” was all he could manage.
He had his ear to the door, listening to the unnatural quiet out there. It was a smooth and almost liquid sort of silence that just did not sound right. But then…
“Wait,” he said. “Somebody’s coming.”
Hubb just grunted.
Footsteps. Several pairs of them were coming down the corridor. But they didn’t sound soggy and dragging like those of the dead things, they sounded oddly quick and light.
They paused outside the door.
Mitch barely breathed.
A fist pounded on the door and he brought up his shotgun.
Then a voice: “Mitch? Mitch, you in there?”
Tommy? Holy H. Jesus! Mitch pulled the lock open and as he did so, he was wondering if he’d just made a real big mistake. What if Tommy was one of them now? Wouldn’t that be a real ass-kicker? But the way Mitch was feeling, what did it matter? If Chrissy was dead and Tommy was one of the living dead, his world wasn’t worth a damn anyway.
Mitch pulled open the door and Tommy was standing there. His hat was gone. His raincoat missing. His shirt and pants were torn and filthy like he’d wiped out a barn with them. A real bad odor came off him. His face was peppered with red marks that might have been burns or bites. There had to be some kind of story there.
But at least he was still normal.
“C’mon already, get the hell outta the way so we can get in,” Tommy said.
We?
Oh yes, Tommy came in, smelling like he’d been dancing a jig at a morgue, and behind him…Deke and Chrissy.
Chrissy?
Oh yes, Chrissy.
Dumbfounded, surprised, floored with happiness, Mitch just stood there while she came to him, melted into his arms. She fit right in there, felt perfect as she’d always felt perfect ever since she’d been a child. She was sobbing, shaking, and Mitch was, too. He could barely catch his breath. It had started yesterday morning…or was it afternoon?…when he’d gone out to look for her. When Lily had started to worry. And now…Christ, he could not even wrap his brain around what was happening.
“Are you okay, baby?” he finally managed.
“I am now,” she said.
“Me, too.”
They just stood there looking at each other and finally Chrissy wiped her eyes, said, “What about Mom?”
Mitch shook his head. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…”
38
An hour later, things were still silent in the orphanage. They could still smell the odor of smoke, so they figured parts of the building were still burning. And if that fanned itself into a three-alarm blaze, there was going to be trouble. Real trouble. Because maybe they did not know where the legions of the dead were, but they were not kidding themselves that they had simply gone away. They were out there, somewhere. But for now, there was nothing but the five of them to do but wait.
And wait.
After Chrissy got over the initial shock of her mother’s death, there was plenty to say. Plenty of stories to be swapped. And listening to them, they all sounded equally as insane. Mitch knew he had Tommy to thank for Chrissy’s life. God willing, there’d be time later to thank him properly.
He was over at the row of windows now. All of them were boarded, but you could see easily enough between them.
“You better get over here,” Tommy said.
Mitch did. He peered out there. The rain had not started again. There were stars out in the sky and a huge full moon had risen over Witcham, turning night to a surreal, almost luminous sort of day. Mitch could see the grass out there, the road coming in. The trees behind. But he wasn’t paying much attention to any of that.
“Shit,” he said.
The dead were out there. And not just twenty or thirty, but hundreds. An immense wall of them standing out there waiting at the edge of the orphanage grounds. Mitch could see that their numbers went on and on, as far as he could see. The road leading through the woods was thick with them. They were all congregating here. Perhaps every last one of them.
Everyone was at the boarded windows now.
“What do they want?” Chrissy said. “Why are they just standing there?”
“They know we got to come out sooner or later,” Hubb said. “You smell that smoke, honey? Goddamn place is burning. Sooner or later, that fire is going to force us out.”
Mitch did not say anything.
There was nothing to say. The dead had vacated the orphanage for reasons known only to themselves. Now they were gathered out there in an army along with what must have been hundreds if not thousands of others, just waiting for the right moment. And that bothered him. Were they this organized? Or were they of some weird communal mind like on a science fiction movie? Or, and worse, had somebody managed to gather them together like this? A leader or something.
“What do you think?” Mitch finally said.
“I’d say we better make ready…I think they’re coming,” Tommy told him.
They were.
They were marching at the orphanage, moving slowly, not breaking ranks. And as the first wave neared, wave after wave after wave pushed in to take their places. And out front, interestingly enough, a single form leading the way.
“Who the hell’s that?” Deke said.
He was moving faster than the others and it wasn’t long before everyone in the classroom could see him just fine. He came within twenty feet of the building and stopped. Stopped dead.
