Scott and his friends murdered John Elfman. Scott couldn’t buy the silence of every kid that was at Susan Zimmerman’s party the night John had gone missing.
And as for Chelsea, he would make it clear that she was in danger, that Gordon had threatened her specifically. Surely they had to take threats like that seriously.
Of course the police, and possibly his attorney and parents, were less likely to believe that Gordon and his friends had killed those homeless people for the purpose of raising them from the dead, but he didn’t need to tell them that. All he had to reveal was that they’d kidnapped and imprisoned them in the guesthouse and tortured them until they died. He could say that Gordon was trying to extract himself from Scott, that he knew what was happening was wrong and wanted to avoid legal trouble and that’s why he’d sought Tim’s help. He’d dug up the grave at the Reamstown Cemetery to blackmail Tim into helping him come up with a scheme to get out of everything without going to the police. Tim had been appalled by the allegations of murder and wasn’t sure if he was going to help Gordon, was still thinking of what to do, in fact, when Officer Clapton pulled them over.
And that was pretty much the truth.
Tim sat down on the cot, fatigue suddenly coming over him. They’d taken his watch along with the rest of his possessions when he was processed, and last time he’d checked it was 2:30 A.M. It was hard to keep track of time in this room, but he guessed he’d been locked up for the past two hours. That sounded about right because now he was dead tired. He needed to lie down and get a few hours sleep, recharge his batteries for the day ahead of him.
Tim rested his head on the small pillow on the far side of the cot and turned over on his left side. He closed his eyes. He had it all planned out. He was going to remain silent until he could see his lawyer and his parents. Only then was he going to confess to what was happening, leaving out the part about the zombies. But first, he was going to reveal Gordon’s threat against Chelsea and ask that she be protected.
Then he was going to tell them that Scott, David, Steve, and Gordon had been up to no good.
With that decision firmly in place, Tim Gaines fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.
Gordon Smith waited a good thirty minutes before he called Steve Downing.
He waited with bated breath as the phone rang, sitting in his darkened bedroom. Down the hall, his parents slept, their anger at him having diminished as quickly as it had arisen. They’d been furious when Gordon was escorted home by the cop, and had made a good show of displaying that anger by yelling at him in front of the officer, threatening to ground him for the rest of the summer, but the moment the officer left Mom had muttered, “I’m tired and going back to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.” Gordon had experienced many of these proclamations in the past. What this meant was she was going to forget about it come morning. Dad might bring it up in passing, and it was possible the idea of grounding him would be floated between them, but it would never happen. It never happened before.
Steve picked up on the fifth ring. “Yeah?” His voice was groggy.
“It’s me,” Gordon said. “We need to talk.”
“Gord?”
“Yeah.” Gordon spoke in as low a tone as possible. “I’m sorry for waking you up. Your folks didn’t hear, did they?”
“Fuck no, they’re on the other end of the house. What’s up?”
“We might have trouble,” Gordon began. “It’s about Count.” Gordon told an abbreviated version of what happened that evening, leaving out any notion that he’d gone to Count for help in the first place, as well as leaving out the part where he’d showed the zombies to him. He might have been dumb enough to get mixed up with Steve, Dave, and Scott, but he wasn’t dumb enough to admit that he was planning on ending everything.
“So you were driving around with Count Gaines because the little shit tried to blackmail you?” Steve asked.
“Yeah,” Gordon said, repeating the story to Steve again. “Like I said, he called me earlier in the day. Said if I didn’t go to the police and confess I robbed that grave that he would furnish them with proof. He said he’d snuck over to my place and planted evidence, but wouldn’t tell me where. He said he wanted to make a deal with me. For us to leave him alone, so I told him I’d talk to him.”
“That little fucker.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. That’s when we got picked up by the cops for violating curfew.”
“Violating curfew? There’s a curfew?”
“Yeah. If you’re under eighteen you’re not supposed to be out after eleven P.M., or some shit.”
“You aren’t? When’d that law go into effect?”
“I don’t know,” Gordon said, changing the subject quickly. “The point is, we lucked out. Count Gaines got taken to Brendan Hall and — “
“Brendan Hall? Oh man, is he in deep shit!”
“Yeah. I don’t know what for, but maybe they got a hard-on to really bust him now.”
Steve laughed. “That’s great! Bet he’s finally going to take the fall for all that shit we blamed him for!”
“Maybe,” Gordon said. “But it’s not gonna be so great if Tim and his parents fight the allegations, get a lawyer and raise a big enough stink that the cops are forced to do a thorough investigation. They might not only come poking around my place, but Scott’s. What do you think they’re gonna find there?”
“That’s not gonna happen,” Steve said adamantly. He sounded more awake now.
“The cops asked me if I’d heard about John going missing,” Gordon said. “I’m positive Count was asked the same thing.”
Steve went silent.
“I played dumb,” Gordon continued. “Count didn’t know shit, of course, but I played dumb. Suppose somebody at the party saw John leave with us?”
“Nobody saw us.”
“Suppose they did?”
“Even if somebody saw John leave with us, it means nothing.”
“It will if Count Gaines raises a stink and the cops decide to search Scott’s place and find those zombies in the guesthouse.”
“Shit!” Steve sounded frustrated now. Gordon held his breath, hoping he’d conveyed his point. Of the four of them, Gordon had been the most reluctant to go along with the crimes they’d been committing. Scott had obviously noticed this, and Gordon wondered if Steve and Dave were aware of it and what Scott might have confided in them when Gordon wasn’t around. He had to tread carefully.
“When the cops pulled us over,” Gordon continued, “I told Count that if he started shit with me, his girlfriend Chelsea was toast.”
“Count Gaines has a girlfriend?”
“He’s been going out with Chelsea Brewer. You know, that little art chick from Mrs. Farner’s class.”
“That little thing?”
“I told Count Gaines that if the cops came around and questioned any of us, that we’d hurt her. I didn’t tell him how. I didn’t really have to. He’s afraid of us already.”
“You think that’ll work?”
Gordon thought about that for a moment. A month ago if he was asked that question, he would have said yes. Now he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know,” he said. “He seemed pretty freaked out at the thought of any of us hurting Chelsea in any way. I’d like to think that put the scare into him.”
“How’d you like to see that bitch’s skinny little ass getting’ chomped by the zombies,” Steve said, the hint of a smile in his voice. “It would be even better if we made Count Gaines watch!”
“Yeah, it would,” Gordon said. No need to tell Steve that Tim had already seen the zombies. He’d explode if he knew. Gordon was counting on Gaines to keep that to himself, to not stir any trouble, which was why he’d threatened to have Chelsea hurt if he squealed.
“So what should we do?” Steve asked.
“You know where Chelsea lives?”
“Yeah. She lives near Danielle Sawyer, over on Fourth Street, just west of Cedar Street. In fact, she lives two doors down from Danielle. Right in the corner house.”
