He grabbed it and ran back, glancing at the telephone on the
kitchen wall as he hurried by. He wanted to stop, wanted to call
Aunt Trudy. Credibility wasn't an issue with her; if her favorite
nephew called and told her to get out of the house, to get out light
now, she would do it ... but what if the blond kid followed her?
Chased her?
And he would. Kinnell knew he would.
He hurried across the living room and stopped in front of the
fireplace.
'Jesus,' he whispered. 'Jesus, no.'
The picture beneath the splintered glass no longer showed
oncoming headlights. Now it showed the Grand Am on a sharply
curving piece of road that could only be an exit ramp. Moonlight
shone like liquid satin on the car's dark flank. In the background
was a water tower, and the words on it were easily readable in the
moonlight. KEEP MAINE GREEN, they said. BRING MONEY.
Kinnell didn't hit the picture with the first squeeze of lighter fluid;
his hands were shaking badly and the aromatic liquid simply ran
down the unbroken part of the glass, blurring the Road Virus's
back deck. He took a deep breath, aimed, then squeezed again.
This time the lighter fluid squirted in through the jagged hole made
by one of the firedogs and ran down the picture, cutting through
the paint, making it run, turning a Goodyear Wide Oval into a
sooty teardrop.
Kinnell took one of the ornamental matches from the jar on the
mantel, struck it on the hearth, and poked it in through the hole in
the glass. The painting caught at once, fire billowing up and down
across the Grand Am and the water tower. The remaining glass in
the frame turned black, then broke outward in a shower of flaming
pieces. Kinnell crunched them under his sneakers, putting them out
before they could set the rug on fire.
He went to the phone and punched in Aunt Trudy's number,
unaware that he was crying. On the third ring, his aunt's answering
machine picked up. 'Hello,' Aunt Trudy said, 'I know it
encourages the burglars to say things like this, but I've gone up to
Kennebunk to watch the new Harrison Ford movie. If you intend to
break in, please don't take my china pigs. If you want to leave a
message, do so at the beep.'
Kinnell waited, then, keeping his voice as steady as possible, he
said:
'It's Richie, Aunt Trudy. Call me when you get back, okay? No
matter how late.'
He hung up, looked at the TV, then dialed Newswire again, this
time punching in the Maine area code. While the computers on the
other end processed his order, he went back and used a poker to jab
at the blackened, twisted thing in the fireplace. The stench was
ghastly - it made the spilled vinegar smell like a flower patch in
comparison-but Kinnell found he didn't mind. The picture was
entirely gone, reduced to ash, and that made it worthwhile.
Mat if it comes back again?
