He barely moved.
A female paced tiger-like in front of their cell.
“Those bars won't save you!" she snarled.
Molly laughed, a mad, bitter sound. “What are you, stupid?" Then she pulled the trigger, and the female's head disappeared in a shower of bone and gray matter. Fur stuck to the wall in splatters of blood.
Jack opened fire, cutting down the other three that were still standing.
The one on the floor, nearly unconscious, was the last to die.
When all was quiet out in the hall, Jack turned to Molly, gasping for breath, and saw the tears streaming down her face. She dropped her shotgun and it clattered on the floor of the cell. He stared down at his guns in disgust, and let them fall as well. Behind them, Tackett had slumped to the floor. He sat leaning against the wall of the cell, face slack, eyes hollow. But he was alive.
They had won. Jack felt like throwing up.
But at least the monsters would take no more lives. Not in Buckton.
“Oh, God," Molly whispered.
She came to him then, and Jack took her in his arms and just held her, gently, rocking just a little. He did not try to wipe the tears from her eyes. After a moment he realized that he was crying as well.
“Bill?" Molly asked.
She lifted her gaze to him, and Jack stared at her. He bit his lip, almost afraid to wonder about the man, the monster that was their friend and ally.
Then they heard heavy footsteps out in the corridor.
The face that appeared in front of the cell was the face of the beast, but the eyes were so very human.
“Bill!" Molly cried in relief.
She snatched the keys from Jack's hands and pushed them through the bars to him. With a wince of pain from the wounds on his chest, Bill slid the key in and unlocked the cell.
The door swung open.
As Jack and Molly emerged amidst the carnage, the dead beasts all around them, Bill willed the change to come upon him again, building the false face that flowed to create skin and human features.
Then he stumbled and almost fell. Blood soaked through his torn clothing.
“Oh, my God," Molly said. She turned to Jack, eyes wide. “We've got to get them both to a hospital."
“No," Tackett groaned.
They turned to see him struggling to rise to his feet. He pushed away from the wall, expression grim but determined.
“Just go. Gather up the weapons you brought into town with you, get your things from the inn, and go. Don't talk to anyone, don't stop, and don't take Cantwell to a hospital within a hundred miles of Buckton."
“I don't understand," Molly said. “You need to have those wounds stitched before you bleed to death."
“I will," Tackett countered. “But the longer you stand here, the more blood I lose. Just get me to my office."
Jack glanced up at Bill. “Can you manage?"
“I'll heal," Bill grunted, though as he walked with them every step seemed painful.
Molly helped steady Tackett as they walked back to his office, weaving around Prowler corpses and splashes of blood as they went.
“What are you gonna do?" Jack asked the sheriff. “How are you gonna explain all this?"
“I don't have to explain. All anyone has to do is look around," Tackett replied. “I think they'll get it. I've lived in this town my whole life except during my time with the Marines. Even after all this, there are people I trust here. But there are also folks I don't know so well who'd be quick to call in the state police, and I don't want that.
“I don't want the media and state investigators and curious college kids driving up and down the streets here. There are people in this town I know will feel the way I do, once they've gotten over trying to convince themselves it isn't real. So I'll make a few phone calls, and I'll get stitched up, and by dawn, all these bodies will be burned or buried somewhere and the place'll be so clean it sparkles."
“What about all the damage? People are going to ask about that," Jack cautioned him.
“After the vandalism at the diner and the library, it'll be simple enough. The hard part's gonna be explaining where the Lemoines and Bernie Mackeson went, not to mention whoever else we killed tonight without knowing it."
Tackett shuddered at the thought and shook his head sorrowfully. “Damn, Tina. She was a nice girl."
No one had a reply for that.
“They'll just be disappearances," Bill said grimly. “You'll get reporters, maybe even state police, but as long as no one says anything, eventually it'll just be a story people talk about."
Jack stopped them just outside Tackett's office. “Maybe not," he said. “People have seen us. Some of them have got to know you arrested us. There are going to be questions."
Tackett lowered his head and sighed. Then he pushed away from Molly and leaned against the door frame. “Henry Lemoine would have killed me if not for you. I'll cover for you as best I can, and no one I bring in to help me will talk about it.
“As far as I'm concerned, I picked you up because I don't like out-of-towners and had to let you go when Alan was killed. I let you out earlier this morning and you checked out of the Inn. You spent the day in town and then left Buckton after dinner. I saw you off myself, with my apologies for inconveniencing you. If you stick to that, and don't go back through town on your way out of here, this just might work."
The three of them stared at him. Jack wondered what rank Tackett had achieved in the Marine Corps, because he certainly
