Michael McBride
© 2004 Michael McBride. All rights reserved.
PART THIRTEEN
SECTION 13
Chapters 18 and 19
XVIII
Wednesday, November 16th
3 p.m.
Scott closed the trunk of the Cherokee, and took a step back, breathing a heavy sigh. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
“Is that everything?” Harry asked as he bounded down the two short steps into the garage from the house.
“I have no idea,” Scott responded from beneath raised brows as he shook his head.
“Well then, let’s take a quick inventory and see.”
Scott walked to the edge of the garage beneath the overhanging roof and stared out into the street. The snow was coming in waves now, sheets blowing one after the other from side to side on the rapidly blowing wind, which howled through the trees all around them. The streetlights flickered as the dark cloud cover triggered their light sensors. Everything was white, from the densely covered ground to the snow- crusted branches of the trees and roofs of the houses.
“Shotguns?” Harry queried as he stood beside Scott, huddling his arms around himself as protection from the wicked wind.
“Check.”
“Shells?”
“Check.”
“Hatchets?”
“Check.”
“Knives?”
“We’ve got the two heavy handled hunting knives with the serrated edges, and each of us has a pocket knife.”
“Good. Rope?”
“Check.”
“Gasoline.”
“We’ve got a gallon.”
“Flame?”
“Matches and a lighter.”
Harry paused momentarily. “Anything else you can think of?”
“I’m at a loss. If none of this stuff works, we’re as good as dead regardless.”
The two stood in the quiet garage listening to the snow fall. They both knew that Scott was right, and more than likely, after having seen what Matt was capable of, it was almost a foregone conclusion regardless.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harry asked in a muffled whisper.
“Do we have a choice?”
“You could walk away right now, catch the next flight to somewhere tropical and never have to think about this ever again.”
“Could you do that?”
“I’ve been preparing for this my entire life. Since that one night where I stumbled upon those nuns slaughtering those children in that little house, it’s been the sole focus of my life. And while I didn’t choose to have to take responsibility for any of this, it was thrust upon me, and I’ve had no choice but to deal with that. If you want to get the hell out of here right now, I’ll wish you no ill will and we’ll part as friends. Heaven knows this is about the last place in the world that I want to be right now. But this is my burden, my cross to bear, and regardless of whether you’re coming or not, I have no choice but to face him… and kill him.”
Scott looked at Harry as he surveyed the storm. He looked a lot older than he had even a few days ago when they had first met. His skin somehow seemed more pale, the wrinkles more heavily defined. And there was something about the way he carried himself that had aged as well. His face was permanently affixed in an expression of pained discomfort, his weary eyes barely more than slits between the bright red rims of his eyelids. The light gray, short- cropped hair atop his head was matted and messy.
“There’s nothing like planning to kill an old friend to get an evening started.”
Harry looked at him and nodded, obviously relieved that he wasn’t going to have to do it alone. He rested a hand on Scott’s shoulder and then patted it several times before turning and walking to the side of the car.
“There’s something that you need to remember, though. And while he may look and sound like your old friend Matt, the man that we will be facing is someone completely different. Your friend died that night in that lake, maybe even sometime before. And whatever humanity he once possessed died with him. What we will face tonight in an incarnation of pure evil, a soulless monster hell bent on not only our deaths, but the eventual deaths of two hundred others. And should we fail tonight, you and I both know that it’s just a matter of time before he comes for us, and when he does we’ll die an ugly death just like the others.”
“I know,” Scott whispered from beneath the overhang.
“But I need to know that if and when that time comes that you’ll be able to pull the trigger, or drag the serrated edge of one of those big hunting knives across his throat.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“If you can’t do that, you realize you could kill us both.”
“Of course I know that,” Scott said as he turned back towards the garage, walking across the cement pad and around the front of the car.
“Then I can count on you?”
“Of course.”
Scott opened the driver’s side door and climbed in, fishing the keys from his pocket and shoving them into the ignition. Harry clambered in beside him, slamming the door as he reached for the seat belt, strapping it across his chest and buckling it into the clip. Belting himself in, Scott scanned the rearview mirror and backed the car out of the garage and into the driveway.
Enormous flakes of snow buffeted the car from all directions, swirling around it like a frosty tornado. The windshield wipers hammered from side to side as fast as they could, brushing the snow aside into two long arcs atop the windshield. The wheels grabbed for traction, skidding momentarily as Scott thrust the car into drive and headed down the icy road.
“How much time do we have?” Scott asked, his eyes intently fixed on the road which seemed to vanish behind the swirling snow that coated the windshield, blocking the light from the headlights.
“Sunset’s at 6:08. That gives us nearly two and a half hours to set up.”
“Is that enough time?”
“How long could it possibly take to bring a shotgun to your shoulder, stick a knife in your pocket, another beneath your belt and grab an ax? I think time, if nothing else, is definitely on our side at this point.”
“But what if we’re wrong? What if he’s already there, waiting for us? What if we don’t have that small amount of time to gather our stuff? What if we never even make it out of this car?”
Until he actually said it out loud, the possibility of his own death on that day had never really sunken in. What he now faced was the distinct reality that he may never see the sun rise again, he may never see his own home again, he may never get married or have children or go to the Super Bowl. His life may be relegated to nothing more than the next few hours.
“There are definitely a lot of ‘what ifs’,” Harry said, turning the blower in the dash so that it blew
