The Shore (Leisure Fiction)

incomprehensible. '...changing...every day...feel it...the need pulsing in the veins. No choice now. Must kill the boy.' The very bottom of the page was filled by what appeared to be numbers, and she strained to make them out.

Six thirteen Decatur. A glint of silent lightning flickered on numerals above the door. Perfect lookout. The tallest building in town--he cursed himself for not having thought of it. They'll be on the top floor.

Steady. Trembling with anticipation, he regarded all the darkened windows. Most were shaded, many broken. This is too easy. He backed into the nearest doorway. I didn't come this far just to walk into a trap. Scraping his hand along the wall, he crept away along the glistening street. Somewhere around here...there must be a...

He felt the opening.

His boots sloshed through unseen puddles as he wandered down the alley. Again, the drizzle had ceased completely, even the wind dying away, though a distant rumble drifted in the sky. Might as well be blind. Thick odors of brine drowned the stench of rot, and he stumbled around a corner. The passage broadened into a sort of courtyard, and from the lower corners all around him, sloshing noises echoed faintly.

I'm here.

At last. Dimly, he perceived the rear walls of the buildings that surrounded him: sharp tracings and blocked masses, and the tallest building, just ahead, its fire escape a jagged chevron. I've got him. He lurched forward, the shadow at his feet shifting like weighted silk. Deep water filled the courtyard, he realized, and a vicious tremor shook through his body.

Above him, metal rattled.

He's up there!

Something splashed heavily; then gulping and thrashing resonated in the dark closed space.

A gift!

The sky flickered. Faintly, he made out a slender form, wallowing.

You can't get away this time. He reached. Not this time!

He groped toward the noise of the foundering boy. Monster. His arms began to ache and tremble, his fingers clutching convulsively. Just a little closer. The splashing stopped, and he actually heard teeth click together. Keep coming. He strained his vision. A foot from his face, two smudges hung. They blinked back at him.

He lunged. The boy fell backward with a splash, then burst like a deer through the flooded courtyard. Steve hurled himself at the sounds of flight, water striking him like a wall. 'No, you don't! No!' Plunging into the freezing pool, he pitched forward to cut off escape through the nearest alley.

He saw the boy reel backward, the white face like a night-blooming flower. A trickle of moonlight revealed only part of that face: the mouth open in a black howl. The visage seemed to float, dissolving, and a shrill moan filled the courtyard.

Scuttling clouds dashed more moonlight into the courtyard, revealing cellar stairs that sank behind the boy. The flood crested his knees.

A shroud of liquid around the boy swelled. With a grinding roar, the cellar door behind him opened. Steve echoed the boy's wordless shout, something viscous uncoiling in his stomach. Instantly, the flood churned downward, forcing the door wide with a squeal that sucked deep into the basement.

The boy cried out again--a splintered shriek--as he threw out his arms and clawed into the door frame, bracing himself against the flow. Whirling, he stared down into the pit behind him. A tumbling splash diminished down the stairs, but his groans trembled to rebound from the walls. At last, he scrambled backward up the steps against the thinning cascade.

One of Steve's arms tightened about Perry's shoulders; another circled his stomach, crushing him to his chest. 'At last.' Steve's breath rasped against the thin neck. 'I've got you.' The slender body felt soaked and frozen against him. 'Monster.' His lips pressed close to the boy's ear. 'You know what I've got to do now.' His grip wound tighter as the boy thrashed convulsively. 'Be quiet.' He could feel the pulse of the boy's throat against his chin. 'It won't hurt.' He heard the air go out of the boy's chest. 'Don't struggle.' He spun Perry around to face him.

Snap the neck. He shook the boy until his head lolled back and forth, then clamped him again in a bear hug. Do it, damn you!

A growl echoed in the basement, like a cry from the depths of hell.

Steve froze, his hands on Perry's throat.

Footsteps clomped upward.

Still clutching the boy, Steve inched back. The splashing came closer. He stumbled for the alley, groping for an entrance. As they plunged into the narrow channel of the passage, his shoulder struck a wall. Perry hung limply in his arms.

He dragged the boy around a corner, then slipped, going down on one knee, almost dropping him. Behind them in the dark, their pursuer stomped faster, moaning with sorrowful rage. Steve lurched to his feet, finally staggered out onto the sidewalk.

A blinding light lanced the side of the building. For an instant, he thought lightning had struck.

'Put him down, Steve.' She melted out of the shadows. Thrusting the emergency lantern forward like a weapon, she stepped closer. 'If you've killed him...'

Her other hand gripped the revolver.

The boy sagged like a corpse in his arms. With no breath left to speak, Steve just nodded back down the alley.

'Don't move. It's over. Don't try to run. I'm warning you.' She stepped closer. 'I know everything. I found the knives in your room.'

'...coming!' He tried to gasp the words out.

'Don't move, I said.'

'...there! It's coming!'

'Please, don't make me shoot you.' Wonderingly, she muttered, 'You're really scared.' Her glance took in the trembling pallor of his grimed face; then her gaze tracked to the alley.

Water dripped loudly, and she trained the lamp into the passageway. Dark pools and floating refuse stood out in the glare, and farther back...did something move?

Something hissed explosively--like the snort of a huge beast.

'What is that? What's back there?' The light wobbled, dimming as it probed, and in the faintest periphery, a form tumbled back, then scrambled over a wooden fence to thud wetly on the other side. Splashing noises faded.

'Evidence.' His voice cracked. 'Those things you found. Evidence. What? Did you think they were souvenirs?'

'Was that Ramsey?' She turned to him, trembling slightly. 'Is the boy...?' She played the light across them, and Steve closed his eyes, his face a mask of misery and exhaustion. 'I don't understand.'

The wind moaned wetly.

Suddenly, the boy clung to him, quivering with terror. 'No, Ramsey! Don't!' He flailed with his fists, his blows containing no more strength than those of an infant.

XXV

Dark silence pressed at the grated windows, and the single orb of an emergency light glared above the entrance. 'Runs off a battery,' she told him. 'Hold him while I get the door.' Though she struggled to sound calm, tension vibrated in her voice.

Steve took hold of Perry's shoulders, partly to keep him from bolting, partly to prevent his falling. He felt the boy shiver like a colt.

'The bridge is still down. I checked the radio.' She fumbled with the key ring. 'Lots of beach towns got hit worse than us, I suppose. That's mostly where the rescue efforts are focused--farther down the coast and...'

Feeling another tremor in the boy's bony frame, he tightened his grip.