Never Fear Page 2

  And Jack took a breath.

  ***

  “Knock-knock?”

  Jack looked up from his suitcase. A man and a woman stood at the screen door to their cabin. Laurie and Simon had already torn off to the beach while he and Christie unpacked.

  “Hi, folks,” the man said. “I hope we’re not interrupting but me and Sharon, we saw that you just arrived. We’re—” the man looked to his left—”right next door, and we thought we’d welcome you.”

  Christie touched Jack’s arm, squeezed it. He looked at her. Her smile said, relax. Stop being a cop. Invite the nice people in.

  Jack went over to the screen door and opened it. “Hi,” he said. “We’re still getting settled here.”

  The man looked at the room, taking in the open luggage, the beds filled with clothes.

  “Oh, don’t want to disturb you. Just being friendly.”

  Christie came forward, her hand extended. “Oh, no—thank you. That’s very nice.” She saw so few people these days…

  She introduced herself and Jack.

  “We’re the Blairs,” the man said. “Tom and Sharon… Our two kids are probably down at the lake already. You’re going to like it here. It’s safe… and it’s fun.”

  Tom Blair grabbed his wife’s hand and squeezed it tight. “We’re having a real nice time here. You folks are going to love it.”

  People being friendly… it was hard for Jack to accept the concept. There wasn’t any room for friendliness in this world. Not anymore.

  “How long have you been here?”

  Tom Blair said, “Three days. And we’re signed up for two more. Gonna hate to leave.”

  His wife spoke, quietly, a woman with a whispery voice, as if she could be scared of the world. “Maybe you’d like to have dinner with our family. Everyone sits at these big tables.”

  “Very homey,” Tom said.

  Christie nodded. “Sure. We’d love to.”

  Tom Blair winked. “See you then.”

  ***

  The dining room was filled with noisy kids and babies crying and the clatter of cheap silverware clanging against plates.

  Laurie and Simon had had a great time swimming. Laurie only wading to the edge of the lake, while Simon swam to the float and dove off.

  Now, though, they were complaining about the food. There was a lot of it, but it was a pasty bean mixture. A gloopy dish that had Simon rolling his eyes and pushing his plate away.

  “This is good food?” he said.

  “Simon… “ Jack said.

  “Yeah,” Tom Blair said. “The cuisine’s not quite up to what the brochure said. But it’s filling—and there’s plenty of it.”

  “Oh, goody,” Simon said, and the Blair kids, two boys, ten and nine, both laughed.

  “There’s a lot of people here,” Jack said. “They must do some business…”

  “Yes,” Blair said. “But you know there’s one thing that confuses me. Last night, I—”

  But Ed Lowe was at a podium in the front of the room and his amplified voice suddenly filled the hall.

  “Good evening, Paterville families! And let’s welcome the newcomers!”

  On cue, the hall resounded with a hundred voices booming, “Welcome, newcomers!”

  “Now listen up, families. I just got the updated weather forecast for tomorrow,” Lowe said. “And it’s going to be beautiful. And for tonight, we’re having a sing-along by the big fireplace, and there will be games for the kids in the rec room.”

  Jack looked around as Lowe spoke. He saw so many families, so many kids. After years of leaving his house and stopping Can Heads—killing them—this all looked so peaceful, so safe.

  Then—he thought:

  Why don’t I feel safe?

  Tom Blair stood up.

  “Maybe we’ll see you at the sing-along?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe you will…”

  ***

  “You’re not sleeping,” Christie said.

  They had made love. First, they’d read books, waiting for the kids to fall asleep. And then Christie had shut her light off, and then his light, before she slid under the covers, working on him, making him hard.

  Now he listened.

  There were noises outside. He heard noises outside.

  He thought that he heard gunshots, the sound of gates opening or shutting, or someone yelling—

  No. It’s just the sound of the woods, the lake. A screeching, the wind rustling leaves.

  The sounds faded—and he had moaned.

  “You’re not sleeping,” Christie said again. He looked to her and her eyes glistened wetly in the blackness, catching the light.

  “I—I can’t sleep,” he said.

  It wasn’t the first time he had trouble sleeping. Not by a long-shot. And it was getting to be a problem…

  She nodded. “Are you worried? I mean, how safe do you want us to be?”

  “No. Everything looks fine here. Couldn’t be better. Still—there’s something that bothers me.”

  She gave a small laugh. “Well, when you figure it out, be sure and tell me. But now I’m going to sleep. I want to enjoy the sun and the water tomorrow.”

  She turned away.

  The room was cold. In minutes, he heard her rhythmic breathing, a reminder that he couldn’t sleep, that sleep would only come when he was too tired to think anymore, to wonder…

  What’s bothering me?

  ***

  He was in bed, rubbing his eyes. The door to the cabin was open. It was morning… that fast. Morning.

  Christie stood there, cute and sexy in a great two-piece bathing suit. Jack wondered: When was the last time I saw her in a bathing suit?

  He leaned up on one elbow.

  “I’m taking the kids down to the beach.” She peered over her sunglasses. “See you there, sleepy head?”

  “Yeah, what time—” He turned left. It was after nine. “I’ll see you there.”

  The screen door slammed shut.

  Jack sat up in bed. And then he remembered. He remembered his night, all the thoughts he’d had, until he finally came to one thing he could hold onto. The one thing that really bothered him…

  The people, all those families in the dining hall.

  Some of them—a lot of them—acted as if they’d been here a long time, as if this wasn’t a vacation place, some new place to visit. They acted—what?

  As if this was their home.

  Maybe it was just a strange feeling. Maybe it was just his cop paranoia, seeing strangeness, sickness everywhere.

  He got up, pulling on his jeans and a T-shirt. He went to the screen door. He heard kids playing by the beach.

  Then he looked left, to the cabin where the Blairs were staying. It’s a crazy idea, he thought. Crazy—but it wouldn’t hurt to ask Tom Blair if he had the same feeling.

  I could laugh about it, Jack thought. You get crazy ideas when you’re a cop. Pretty damn funny…

  He walked down the wooden steps to the ground and hurried over to the Blairs’ cabin. He walked up the wooden steps and knocked on the door… and it swung open, ajar, creaking…

  A woman was inside, but it wasn’t Blair’s wife. “Oh, I was looking for the family staying here.”

  The woman looked up at him. She was putting clean sheets on the bed. She had a cart with towels, small wrapped packets of soap. Jack looked at her face, her eyes.

  She looked as if she had been caught doing something. The woman shook her head.

  Then she smiled, quickly. “Oh, they left. They left the camp. They had to leave.” The words came fast. Too fast.

  I know when people are lying. I know that. Always have.

  Jack was about to say something, about how the Blairs were staying a few more days, and she must have made a mistake. But he looked around the room. The cabin was empty. No luggage. Swept clean. They were gone.

  Jack’s throat felt tight. He nodded. “Oh—okay,” he said. He turned b
ack to the door.

  He felt the woman watching him while he opened the screen door, then let it slam shut behind him. There was no morning sun outside, no nice day, like Ed Lowe predicted. Instead, it was cloudy, cool.

  Jack thought of his family, down by the water, swimming with the other families…

  He put on shoes and grabbed his wallet, his keys… Because that’s all we need, he thought. That’s all we need. If it isn’t too late. Oh, Christ, if it isn’t—

  ***

  He reached the beach. He saw Simon diving, clumsily, without any grace. Boy doesn’t get any practice, he thought. Not enough fucking practice ’cause there’s not too many safe places to swim, not too many pools you’d send your kids to—

  He felt a hand on his back.

  “You have a good night’s sleep, Jack?”

  Jack turned around and saw Ed Lowe, standing there. He nodded. “Fine. It was… very comfortable.”

  Lowe smiled. “The mountain air. Makes you sleep like a baby.” Lowe came closer. The wind changed. The director nodded toward Jack’s family. “They’re having a good time. You did the right thing coming here.”

  Jack smiled back. He knows, he thought. He knows I saw the empty cabin, and that I asked questions, and now—now—

  “We have a nice place here,” Lowe said. “A real nice place for families.”

  And Jack looked at Lowe’s eyes, at the runny egg whites lined with red, then down to the coils of fat around the man’s neck. His big, strong-looking hands, with pudgy fingers.

  Jack licked his lips. He doesn’t look—

  “Maybe this is your kind of place?” Lowe said, moving even closer, the wind carrying his smell to Jack’s nostrils.

  No. You don’t get that fat on beans, on soy paste, on—

  The smell. Jack knew what it was. He got it a lot, on the streets. It was the smell of meat, the tangy scent of blood. Lowe’s lips were red, a Santa Claus red, rosy cheeks and beet-red lips.

  Jack watched Lowe run his tongue across his teeth, searching, scouring.

  There was something there, something stringy, dangling from a tooth.

  Jack couldn’t breathe. The smell, the voices squealing by the water. He felt his car keys pressing into his thigh.

  “Well—if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got to—”

  Jack walked past Lowe, forcing himself to breathe regularly. It’s okay, he told himself. Lowe doesn’t know anything. Jack walked over to Christie, sitting in a chair low to the sand.

  “Get Laurie,” he whispered to her.

  Christie turned around. “What? Jack, what do you—”

  He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed tightly. “Please, be—”

  He turned around, expecting to see Lowe there, watching, spying on him. I’m not crazy, am I?

  Then back to Christie. “Get Laurie and walk to the car. I’ll call Simon and follow you…”

  “Whatever for? What are you—”

  He pinched her shoulder, enough to cause some pain, enough to let her know that she should just fucking do it.

  When Jack stood up, he saw people watching him, looking.

  Welcome newcomers…

  He moved to the edge of the lake just as Simon surfaced. “Simon! Come here.”

  For a moment it looked as if the boy wouldn’t come, that he’d make Jack shout to him while everyone watched. But then Simon kicked back and swam to him.

  Jack waited, while the cool breeze off the lake played with his hair, while—all of a sudden—it got quiet on the beach.

  “What’s up, Dad?”

  Jack leaned down close to Simon. He whispered.

  “Simon. Don’t respond to what I say. Don’t do anything. If you understand, just nod a bit.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Jack shook his head. “Quiet! Don’t say a word. Just—when I start off the beach, you follow me. Do you understand?”

  Simon nodded.

  There was no sound on the beach now, and Jack’s whisper felt thunderous. “Just follow me back to the car, as fast as you can. Don’t look back, don’t do anything…”

  The boy was shivering He wasn’t stupid, and Jack’s tone had cut through his annoyance and confusion.

  “Now, good…ready…”

  Jack stood up straight, turned, and walked off the beach, moving fast, not running, but walking with big strides while Simon, bare-footed, trotted to keep up.

  ***

  He was afraid that when he got to the car, Christie and Laurie wouldn’t be there, or maybe—God—their car wouldn’t be there.

  There were only a few cars there.

  That was it. All along, and I didn’t understand that, he thought. All those people and only a few cars.

  Welcome newcomers…

  But Christie was there. And Laurie was sitting in the back. The locks were down. But when Christie saw him she leaned across and opened the driver and then the passenger door.

  “Get in,” he said.

  They slammed their doors together. Jack stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, fearing that it wouldn’t turn over, that the car’s insides had been trashed.

  That’s what I’d do, Jack thought. Rip the guts right out.

  But the car turned over. He pushed down the lock on his door, and Simon copied him. Jack looked back to the lake, to the trail leading to the beach, but he didn’t see anybody following.

  He pulled away.

  And Christie—took a breath—and said: “Now can you tell me what this is about?”

  Jack looked back at Laurie. He tried to protect her, to keep the badness away. But Christie needed to know.

  “They’re here,” he said. “God—in this camp.”

  Christie laughed. “You’ve lost it. Now I know it. Why on earth do you—”

  He looked at her as he pulled onto the gravel road leading to the gate out.

  I’ll ram right through that fucking gate if I have to, he thought. “The Blairs. They were staying for two more days, and now they’re gone.”

  “Their plans probably changed, Jack. Why do you—”

  “The chamber maid cleaning their room—she was hiding something. I can tell, Christie. I know when people lie. It’s my job.”

  “Mommy,” Laurie said. “Daddy’s scaring me. Tell him to stop—”

  “Then this Ed Lowe guy tracked me down. As if he had heard that I found out something, that I suspected. Fat Ed Lowe… How the hell do you think he got so fat? And—God—I smelled it. On his breath. I tell you, I smelled it. And his teeth. They weren’t clean, they were still filled with stringy bits of—”

  The gate was ahead, just around the curve, past a tall stand of pines.

  “Dad—hey, Dad, there’s somebody—” Simon leaned forward, pointing at the road.

  The road… filled with people.

  They were carrying things. Sticks, bats, and—catching the full gray morning light—silvery things. Ed Lowe was in the front, and there were children there too.

  He thought of what Lowe said. A good place for families.

  As if he was saying: You could live here too. We could use someone like you.

  Jack had guns, but there were too many of them… “Hold on,” he said, and he floored the car.

  Which was exactly what they wanted him to do. They had prepared for him.

  They parted, exposing the gravel road and the giant tree trunk spread across it. The car rammed into it and then stopped dead.

  There was a popping noise, the sound of the tires being hacked. Primitive. Prehistoric. The way you’d bring down a mastodon. Laurie was crying, bleating, “Daddy, Daddy…”

  Simon, sweet boy, good boy, whispered to him, so calm. “Should I get the guns, Dad?”

  Simon had found them. Simon had been worried, too. He knew his dad had brought guns…

  Christie grabbed his leg. “Oh, God, Jack. Oh, no—”

  Last year, when the food ran out, when the meat stopped, something had happened. People changed. There was no expl
anation for the sudden outbreak of packs, a cult of cannibalism. There were just a few small groups—Can Heads, the newspapers called them. Except one scientist said yes, this was probably the way the dinosaurs vanished.

  Feeding on each other…

  As if some switch had been thrown, some end-of-the-world switch. After all the suffering, the homeless people, the poverty, the hunger. Some final switch was thrown. And this was the way it would end.

  They were smashing at the car’s windows.

  The safety glass didn’t shatter, but a web-like mesh of cracks appeared. Eventually it would give out.

  They surrounded the car. Jack saw the other families, their mouths open, wet lips, teeth exposed. They were angry. This probably wasn’t how they liked to do it. This was probably too undignified.

  Christie was crying.

  “Jack, please. Our babies…”

  The back window gave out, and now he heard the voices, the snarling of the Can Heads, this new species, human cannibals ready to feed on their prey.

  Jack turned and looked at his wife.

  Then back to Laurie. She had her hands over her ears, and she was crying, hopelessly trying to drown out the screams, the horrible sounds.

  He heard them on the roof. Crawling on the roof. It was a feeding frenzy. Jack had imagined what it would be like—to be caught by them—and now it was happening.

  We fell in the trap… he thought.

  He looked at Christie. Her eyes begged for him to do something.

  I will…

  “I love you,” he said.

  The window by Simon caved in. The boy yelped, and screamed, “Dad!”

  There was no more time.

  Jack fingered the switch by the steering column.

  For a moment he thought: What if it doesn’t work? Oh, God, what if somehow it doesn’t work?

  He threw the switch.

  The battery fired a spark into the oversized gas tank.

  There was the tiniest second of hesitation—and then the explosion ripped from behind him, with searing heat, burning, painful— the screams of his family mixing with the roar.

  Merciful…

  Ending everything in one blessed, white-hot flash of pain.

  And then the screaming, the crying, the smashing, all vanished… And the gravel road was quiet.