Authors: Dan Simmons
“And somebody has him?”
“Yeah. Unless he was able to drop out of sight completely. But he would have warned us.”
“How?” said Natalie. “You and I left messages on your phone machine that somebody erased. How could Saul get through if we couldn’t? Especially if he’s on the run?”
“Good point,” said Gentry. Natalie shivered. Gentry moved closer and enclosed her in the blanket. “Thinking about yesterday?” he asked.
She nodded. Every time she began to feel in the least bit secure, some part of her remembered the sensation of Anthony Harod’s consciousness in her mind and her entire body shuddered as if recalling a brutal rape. It
had been
a brutal rape.
“It’s over,” he said. “They won’t get at you again.”
“But they’re still
out
there,” whispered Natalie. “Yes. Which is another reason we probably shouldn’t try to get out of Philadelphia to night.”
“And you still don’t think it was . . . Harod . . . who made the bus . . . who set them after us?”
“I don’t see how it could be,” said Gentry. “The man was truly and sincerely unconscious when we left. He may have come to ten minutes later, but he would’ve been in no shape to do mental gymnastics. Besides, didn’t you say that you got the impression that he used his . . . voodoo power . . . only on women?”
“Yes, but that’s just a
feeling
I had when he . . . when he was . . .”
“Trust the feeling,” said Gentry. “Whoever was siccing those folks on us last night used men too.”
“If it wasn’t this Anthony Harod, who
was
it?” It was dark now. Somewhere in the city a siren howled. The streetlight, the dimly lit windows, the low-cloud reflection of the city’s countless mercury vapor lamps, all seemed unreal to Natalie, as if light had no place in the canyons of dirty brick, rusted metal, and darkness.
“I don’t know,” said Gentry. “But I know that our job right now is to hunker down and survive. The one good thing about yesterday is that now that I’ve thought about it, I’m almost certain that whoever was after us wanted to
keep
us here but didn’t want to kill us . . . or at least not kill
you.
”
Natalie’s mouth opened in surprise. “How can you say that? Look at what they did! The bus . . . those people . . . look at what they did to you.”
“Yep,” said Gentry, “but think of how they could’ve handled it in a much simpler way.”
“How?” Even as Natalie spoke she realized what Rob was going to say. “If they could see us to chase us,” said Gentry, “they could see us to physically control us. I had a gun the entire time. They could have made me use it on you and then turn it on myself.”
Natalie shivered under the blanket. Gentry put his right arm around her. She said. “So you think they weren’t really trying to kill us?”
“That’s one possibility,” said Gentry and stopped abruptly.
Natalie sensed that he did not want to complete the thought. “What is the other possibility?” she pressed.
Gentry pursed his lips and then smiled weakly. “The other possibility— and this fits the evidence too— is that they’re so sure we can’t get away that they’re having a little fun and playing with us.”
Natalie jumped as the door crashed open behind her. It was Leroy. “Hey, Marvin say you two get in here. Taylor’s back and he got your bag, man. Louis back and he got some good news. He and George and them, they found where the Voodoo Lady live and track her down, wait ’til she asleep and get her, man. Honky monster, too.”
Natalie’s heart pounded against her ribs. “What do you mean they got them?”
Leroy grinned at them. “They
killed
them, woman. Louis cut the old Voodoo Lady’s throat while she asleep. George and Setch, they got the honky monster with their knives. Ten, twelve times, man. Cut him to shit, man. That fucker not gonna cut on Soul Brickyard people no more.”
Natalie and Gentry looked at each other and followed Leroy into a house filled with the sounds of celebration.
Louis Solarz was heavyset and light skinned with large, expressive eyes. He sat at the head of the kitchen table while Kara and another young woman worked to clean and ban dage his throat. The front of the young man’s yellow shirt was dappled with blood.
“What happened to your throat, man?” asked Marvin. The gang leader had just come downstairs. “I thought you say you cut
her
throat.”
Louis nodded excitedly, tried to speak, managed only a croak, and started again in a hoarse whisper. “Yeah. I did. Honky monster cut me before we did him.” Kara slapped Louis’s hands away from the cut and set a dressing in place.
Marvin leaned on the table. “I don’t get it, man. You say you get the Voodoo Lady while she asleep, but the honky motherfucker had time to cut you. Where the fuck is George and Setch?”
“They still there, man.”
“They OK?”
“Yeah, they OK. George want to cut the honky monster’s head off, but Setch say wait.”
“Wait for what?” said Marvin. “Wait for
you
, man.”
Natalie and Gentry stood near the rear of the crowd. She looked at Rob with a questioning look. He shrugged under the blanket.
Marvin crossed his arms and sighed. “OK, tell it again, Louis. Whole thing.”
Louis touched his ban daged throat. “This
hurts.
”
“Tell it,” snapped Marvin. “OK. OK. George, Setch, and me, we out talking to people just like you say, and we thought we had enough, like nobody seen nothing, you know? Then we on Germantown when she come out of that store on corner of Wister.”
“Sam’s Deli?” said Calvin. “Yeah, that the one,” said Louis and grinned. “It be the Voodoo Lady herself.”
“You recognized her from my photo?” asked Natalie. Everyone turned to look at her and Louis gave her a long, strange look. Natalie wondered if women were supposed to keep their mouths shut in a war council. She cleared her throat and said again, “Did my photo help?”
“Yeah, that it,” Louis whispered huskily. “But the honky monster with her too.”
“You sure it was
him
?” snapped Leroy. “Yeah, I sure,” said Louis. “And George seen him before, remember. Skinny dude. Long, greasy hair. Weird eyes. How many dudes like that walking around with old lady not be Voodoo Lady and honky mofo?”
There was a loud laughter from the twenty-five people in the room. Natalie thought it sounded like the laughter of anxiety release.
“Go on,” said Marvin. “We followed ’em, man. They go to an old house. We follow them, man. Setch say, get you, but I say let’s see what’s going down. George he go up a tree on the side and see the Voodoo Lady sleeping. I say, let’s
do
it. Setch say OK, he get the lock open, we go in.”
“Where the house?” asked Marvin. “I show you, man.”
“
Tell
me,” snapped Marvin and grabbed Louis by the collar.
The heavier boy whimpered and held his throat. “It be on Queen Lane, man. Not far from the Avenue. I show you, man. Setch and George be waiting.”
“Finish the story,” Marvin said softly. “We go in quiet,” said Louis. “It only four o’clock, you know? But the Voodoo Lady, she be asleep upstairs in a room full of dolls . . .”
“Dolls?”
“Yeah, like a kid’s room, you know? Only she not exactly asleep, more like she do too much dope, you know?”
“In a trance,” said Natalie.
Louis looked at her. “Yeah. Like that.”
“Then what?” said Gentry.
Louis grinned at everyone. “Then I cut her throat, man.”
“She’s dead?” said Leroy.
Louis’s grin got wider. “Oh yes. She
dead
.”
“What about the honky monster?” asked Marvin. “Setch, George, and me, we find him in the kitchen. He be sharpening that big curve blade of his.”
“The scythe?” said Natalie. “Yeah,” said Louis. “And he had a knife, you know? That what cut me, when we took it away. Then Setch and George cut him. Got him good. Cut his fucking throat, man.”
“He dead?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Fuck yes we sure. You think we don’t know when somebody dead, man?”
Marvin stared at Louis. There was a strange gleam to the gang leader’s startling blue eyes. “This honky motherfucker killed five good brothers, Louis. Muhammed, be six-two, mean dude. How come you an’ Setch an’ little George take this motherfucker so easy?”
Louis shrugged. “I don’t know, man. When the Voodoo Lady dead, the honky no monster. Just a skinny little white kid. He crying when Setch cut his throat.”
Marvin shook his head. “I don’t know, man. Sounds too easy. What about the pigs?”
Louis stared. “Hey, man,” he said at last. “Setch say bring you right away. You want to see them or not?”
“Yeah,” said Marvin. “Yeah.”
“You’re not going,” said Gentry.
“What do you mean I’m not going?” said Natalie. “Marvin wants photographs taken.”
“I don’t give a damn what Marvin wants,” said Gentry. “You’re staying here.”
They were on the second floor in the curtained alcove. All the gang members were downstairs. Gentry had carried his suitcase up and was changing to corduroy slacks and a sweater. Natalie saw where blood had soaked through the ban dages above his ribs. “You’re hurt,” she said. “You shouldn’t be going either.”
“I have to see if the Fuller woman is dead.”
“I want to see too . . .”
“No.” Gentry pulled a goose-down vest over the sweater and turned to her. “Natalie . . .” He raised one huge hand and touched her cheek gently. “Please. You . . . you’re important to me.”
Natalie moved gently against him, careful not to brush against his side. She raised her face to kiss him. Afterward, nestling her face against wool, she whispered. “You’re important to me, too, Rob.”
“All right. I’ll be back as soon as we see what’s going on.”
“But the pictures . . .”
“I’ll use your Nikon, OK?”
“All right, but I don’t feel right about . . .”
“Look,” said Gentry and shifted into his thickest drawl, “this here Marvin fella ain’t no fool. He isn’t going to take no chances.”
“Don’t
you
take chances.”
“No, ma’am. I gotta go.” He pulled her to him for a long, full kiss that made her forget about his ribs as she put her arms around him and held on tightly.
Natalie watched from the second-story window as the group set out. With Louis went Marvin, Leroy, the tall youth named Calvin, a sullen-faced, older gang member called Trout, twin boys Natalie did not know, and Jackson. The ex-medic had shown up just as the expedition was departing. Everyone was armed except Louis, Gentry, and Jackson. Calvin and Leroy carried sawed-off shotguns under their loose coats, Trout carried a long-barreled .22, and the twins had small, cheap-looking pistols that Rob had called Saturday Night Specials. Gentry had asked Marvin for the Ruger, but the gang leader had laughed, finished loading the heavy weapon, and slid it into the pocket of his own army jacket. Gentry looked up and waved the Nikon at her when they left.
Natalie sat on the mattress in the corner and fought the urge to cry. She went through all of the possibilities and permutations in her mind.
If Melanie Fuller was dead, they might be able to leave.
Might
. But what about the authorities Rob had talked about? And the Oberst?
And what about Anthony Harod? Natalie tasted bile when she thought about that lizard-eyed little son of a bitch. The memory of the fear and hatred of women she had sensed during those few minutes under his control made her gorge rise. She wished that she had kicked his ugly face in when she had had the chance.
A noise on the stairs made her stand up.
Someone was emerging into the dim light at the head of the stairs. The second floor was empty except for her. Taylor had been left in charge, some of the gang members had gone off to alert others, and Natalie heard laughter from the first floor. The person at the top of the stairs moved hesitantly toward the light and Natalie caught a glimpse of a white hand, pale face.
She looked around quickly. No weapons had been left upstairs. She ran to the pool table, brilliantly lit under the single, hanging lamp, and lifted a pool cue, swinging it slightly to find the balance of it. She held it in both hands and said, “Who is it?”
“Only me.” Bill Woods, the minister who supposedly ran Community House, stepped into the light. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
Natalie relaxed her posture but did not put down the pool cue. “I thought you were gone.”
The frail-looking man leaned over the table to play with the white cue ball. “Oh, I’ve been in and out all afternoon. Do you know where Marvin and the other boys have gone?”
“No.”
Woods shook his head and adjusted thick glasses. “It’s terrible the discrimination and exploitation these children suffer. Did you know that unemployment among black teenagers in this area is over ninety percent?”
“No,” said Natalie. She had moved around the table from this thin, intense man, but she sensed nothing in him but a burning desire to communicate.
“Oh yes,” said Woods. “The shops and stores along the Avenue are owned almost exclusively by whites. Mostly Jews. They no longer live around here, but they continue to control what business remains. Nothing new there.”
“What do you mean?” said Natalie. She wondered if Rob and the group were there yet. If the dead woman was
not
Melanie Fuller, what would Rob do?
“The Jews, I mean,” said Woods. He perched on the edge of the pool table and tugged his pant leg down. He touched his little mustache, a fuzzy black line that looked like a nervous caterpillar on his upper lip. “There is a long history of the Jews exploiting the underprivileged in America’s cities. You are black, Miss Preston. You must understand this implicitly.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” said Natalie just as an explosion rocked the front of the home.
“Good heavens!” cried Woods as Natalie ran to one of the windows. Two abandoned automobiles along the curb were burning fiercely. Flames leaped thirty feet into the air and illuminated empty lots, abandoned row houses across the way, and the railroad embankment to the north. A dozen gang members ran into the front sidewalk, shouting and brandishing shotguns and other weapons.