The Hysteria: Book 4, The Eddie McCloskey Paranormal Mystery Series (The Unearthed) (14 page)

“You’re right, Amateur Hour. I know exactly what’s happening, now.”

Riehl threw his gun away.

“What’s happening?” Pater said.

“Riehl turned,” I said.

Ten people faced me, including a linebacker-sized federal agent who probably knew how to kill me with just the thumb of his non-dominant hand. I was screwed. I was dead. They weren’t afraid of my gun. I could maybe kill three or four of them if I started shooting now. Problem was, that left six or seven.

I wasn’t trained for this. I got the horrible feeling I was going to die in front of an abandoned warehouse in a parking lot overrun by weeds in fucking Oregon of all places.

Riehl took out the knife he’d used on Dorothy Young and cut through Melanie’s zip-cuffs. She brought her hands around front and rubbed her wrists. Riehl lined up alongside her.

“Eddie, we don’t want to hurt you,” Melanie said.

“Right. You want to take me out for coffee.”

The woman on the far right lunged. I shot the ground in front of her and she jumped back.

“Not another fucking step.”

“That clip holds nine,” Riehl said. “You’ve got eight shots left.”

“Okay, so which eight of you are going to die?” I was regretting my decision to fire a warning shot now. They weren’t stopping.             

Riehl said to Melanie, “We need to hurry. The other agent is coming.”

“Back. All of you.”

They were close. I knew they were about to spring.

So I sprung first.

Shooting your client’s daughter tends to sour the relationship with your client. So instead I put one in Riehl’s chest, around where he’d been shot earlier. He fell backward again, landed on his ass. I hoped that show of force was enough to dissuade the others.

It wasn’t.

The flanks moved in at the same time. I’d told myself I’d shoot them all in the leg, but the only real shooting practice I’d ever gotten was in the arcade. I’d shot two men in my life and both times it had been at point blank range.

Here, there were multiple targets and I had exactly zero margin for error. If I hit somebody in the femoral artery they’d bleed out. If I missed the leg altogether, I’d bleed out.

The choice was them or me. And in my personal microcosm of the animal kingdom, that was no choice at all.

I drilled the man on the left first. Melanie took off running. I ignored them and spun back around to shoot the woman on the other flank. I took her point blank in the gut. Before she could grab the gun I was whirling again. Seven of them left, excluding Riehl, all closing on me fast.

I went mad dog crazy and started shooting. They were so close it was hard to miss. Somebody was screaming in the earpiece but I couldn’t hear them.

One of the men grabbed me and I shot him in the gut. He spiraled away, clutching at his stomach. Another loon got in point-blank range and I shot her between the eyes.

The gun clicked empty and when the proverbial dust settled three were still vertical, and Riehl was climbing to his feet. Melanie was gone.

“You’re dead,” Riehl said.

Heart in my throat, I did my best to be witty. “All men are condemned to death with a temporary reprieve.”

“Your reprieve is over now.”

“Riehl!” Manetti shouted from the doorway. It froze the three goons in place.

Not Riehl, though.

He spun and in the blink of an eye threw his knife at Manetti. I thought Riehl got her. He was so fast. But Manetti got out of the way like she’d been expecting it. Great reflexes, good training, whatever it was it saved her life. The knife flew harmlessly through the doorway.

Manetti poked her head out the door as the pod people came after me. We were bunched, Manetti couldn’t fire and Riehl was barreling toward me. I suckered the guy on my right but then the others got my arms locked.

“Leave him!” Riehl said, a split second before he broke my nose.

***

Eddie
.

It was Tim, my brother, talking. I hadn’t seen him in almost seven years in real life and in almost a year in my dreams.

Eddie, get up.

He was hovering over me. His face pinched with worry. All he’d ever done after Mom and Dad died was worry about me. It had aged him beyond his years. He had died an old thirty, paunchy and bald, leaving behind a good fiancee.

No, not died. He’d been murdered.

You need to get up.

“I know.”

You know where Megan’s hiding.

“I don’t.”

You do.             

Tim put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re running out of time. They’re dancing.”

“I know they’re dancing. I just don’t know where.”

“They’re dancing, Eddie. You know where they are.”

“I don’t.”

“You have—”

Tim’s voice changed into Manetti’s voice.

“—to hurry.”

I woke up.

***

My nose felt like it was in two pieces and there was blood all over my shirt.

“—to hurry. Get up. Come on. We have to move.” Manetti tugged my hand.

“Give me a second.”

“Now!”

My whole head throbbed. I couldn’t breathe through my nose and the blood was running freely.

“Get up, Minor League!”

That got me moving. “The fuck did they go?”

“Forget them. We’re going after Mobray.”

“Mobray?”

“Riehl tagged him. We can track him.”

I remembered Riehl cuffing the meat of the guy’s arm and Mobray reacting like he’d been pinched.

“Come on.”

I went on.

There was blood down my throat. Riehl’s punch must have laid me out so the blood from my nose had collected. I hacked and spit it up as we hurried through the woods. I was barely able to breathe but I kept up with Manetti. No mean feat.

“Pater, where is Mobray?” Manetti said.

“We’re looking.”

“Riehl’s gone.”

“Unfortunate.”

“How long till we all go?”             

“Maybe we won’t.”

The maybe was cold comfort.

We reached the back of the strip mall. The same employee was behind the organic food store, smoking another cancer stick. He wasn’t surprised to see us.

Manetti was all over him. “Did you see anybody come out of these woods?”

He smiled like he’d been waiting for her to ask so he could use a line. “Yeah. You two.”

She kept her gun pointed at the ground but loudly clicked the safety off. “Anybody else?”

All the fake bravado leaked out of him. “Yeah, yeah, another guy. Was that gunfire? Somebody called the cops.”

“The other guy. Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.” He realized the front of my shirt was covered in blood. “Dude, your nose is bleeding.”

We hustled around to the front of the store. Outside patrons milled, still excited by the sound of the gunfire. They saw us and whispered loudly.

“Police en route,” Pater said. “Sixty seconds out.”

“We’re out of here,” Manetti said. “Both cars. Got a line on Mobray?”

“We’re looking.”

I got in the corvette and she jumped in the grey van. I followed her out of the lot. I heard the sirens, coming fast.

We could still talk through the earpieces.

I said, “You let Riehl go.”

“He was Spec Ops. I didn’t like my chances one-on-one.”

“But you had a gun.”

“That might have evened us up.”

“Would you have used it?”

She was out of the lot in a hurry, headed away from the sirens. My front bumper was glued to her ass.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Would you have shot him?”

“If I had to.”

“You had to.” She hit the gas and so did I. The van wasn’t as slow as it looked. “You chose to let him go.”

“I chose Mobray.”

I would have done the same thing but wanted to understand her thought process. “Why?”

“…I don’t know. I just did.”

“You didn’t want to shoot Riehl.”

“He’s sick. He’s not himself.”

“I’m not judging you.”

“The hell you aren’t.”

The telephone poles whipped by as we ate up road. I couldn’t hear the sirens anymore but my eyes kept checking the rearview. It wasn’t my first car chase, but it was the first time I was the chaser.

“We got a ping,” Pater said. “Direction you’re heading, about a mile up the road.”

Manetti floored it. I didn’t have to because I was in a ‘vette and she was in a kidnapper van.

“I’m not judging you, Manetti,” I said. “You have loyalty. You’re human.”

I dared to look at my face in the rearview. My nose was normally pretty straight. Now it had a distinct bend about halfway down the bridge.

The sight of it made the pain worse.

My mouth was painted red, my teeth blood-stained. My head beginning to pound.

“Jesus.”

“What?” Manetti said.

“I’m not movie star handsome anymore.”

“You never were. Get over it.”

“How are we following Mobray?”

“Wi-Fi radio-frequency ID,” Pater said. “Agent Riehl planted it on Mobray.”

“Minutes before he turned,” Manetti said.

“He was already affected. The disease process is probably more akin to a spectrum and Riehl had crossed his own Rubicon,” I said.

“Because you have your medical degree,” Manetti said.

“That’s how basically all disease works. You’re sick before you know it.”

“Mobray is still a mile ahead of you,” Pater said. “Police are now following you too.”

“Where the hell’s he going?” Manetti said.

“Riehl was already on his way. I know because of what happened at Dorothy Young’s place.”

“That was a righteous kill,” Manetti said.

“Not saying it wasn’t.”

“So say what you’re actually saying.”

“Dorothy reacted violently toward him because she knew he was affected. And his actions proved her right.”

“She pulled a gun on him,” Manetti said.

But not on me, exactly.

How much to share? Riehl had just turned, maybe Manetti and crew were next. Maybe they were too far along, sick but not showing yet. There was no telling. They’d been here longer than me, maybe the MPI was correlated to exposure to the local environment. I didn’t trust anybody but myself at this point.

And, crazy as it sounded, maybe Megan Turner too.

“Got anything smart to say?” Manetti asked.

“Mobray is slowing down,” Pater said. “Looks like he’s going to the Rogue Valley Mall.”

Eamon spoke. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “The police are at the warehouse now.”

“Any chance you have one of those Wi-Fi things on Megan’s person?”

“Gee, why didn’t we think of that?” Manetti said.

Pater calmly said, “We believe Agent Turner removed the device before she officially went off the reservation.”

“Why is Mobray going there? Is there anything happening at the mall?” I said.

“There’s a big sale,” Pater said.

I couldn’t tell if he was kidding.

My whole fucking head was throbbing when we stopped. Manetti was out of the van and fussing over me. It was weird, out of character for her.

“Let me see,” she said.

“It’s fine, let’s go.”

“Can you breathe through your nose?”

“I have a mouth.”

“Move your hands.”

“You have any training to do this?”

“No, it’s just my feminine side coming out.”

“About as often as Halley’s comet.”

“Shut.” She pinned my nose and yanked. “Up.”

There was a crunch and then somebody screamed. It wasn’t her.

People in the parking lot were starting to slow and watch us. Her with her gun holstered, me with my blood-soaked shirt.

She said, “You need to go to the ER.”

“I’d be a sitting duck in a hospital in this crazy-ass town. Let’s go.”

“You have to if it doesn’t stop bleeding.”

“You have to have some gauze in the back of that van.”

She found the first aid kit and jammed two strips up my nostrils. It hurt and didn’t help with the breathing issues. She handed me a couple pills, I swallowed the painkillers.

We locked eyes for a moment. Her expression wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. I’d gone up in her book, maybe only a notch but it was something.

“You did okay, Little League,” she said.

“Don’t.”

“They were righteous kills.”

“I said don’t.”

I didn’t want to be absolved. Not just yet, anyway. I wanted that leaden feeling of guilt in my stomach. It was proof I was human.

“You did what you had to. You’re alive because of it.”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe I’m still alive too because of it.”

Her face softened. The lines around the eyes disappeared. Her mouth slitted open.

I said, “Are you saying thanks?”

“I am.”

I nodded. “That goes a long way.”

“Good.”

But it didn’t go all the way. The image of me putting a bullet between that sick woman’s eyes kept replaying. I pictured her body going limp and collapsing on itself. I’d dropped others too but could even now barely put the entire flurry of gunfire together. One moment I’d been acting with thought, the next I’d switched to autopilot. The last thing I’d fully experienced before the melee was putting the barrel against her forehead and pulling the trigger. After that, it was the survival instinct override.

Jesus.

“It’ll hit you later.”

“It’s hitting me now.” I was happy, almost giddy. And I wanted to punch someone. And I wanted to invent a time machine so I could go back and not kill that woman.

Manetti put a hand on my shoulder. “Pater, where’s Mobray?”

“The mall is two levels,” Pater said. “I have bird’s eye so I can give you a direction only.”

“Eddie, are you—”

“As long as I keep moving I’m good,” I said.

Manetti nodded. She understood. Her eyes got a faraway look, just for a second, but I knew she’d done terrible things herself.

“I need a gun or a reload.”

“Eddie, not in a crowded mall.”

“Crowded with potentially sick people. Give me a fucking gun.”

“Manetti,” Pater said.             

“I’m getting it.” Manetti went to the van one more time.

***

“Your nose is busted and I don’t want you shooting anybody unless you absolutely have to. If you see Mobray, let me know and I’ll come help you,” Manetti said.

“Yeah.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, is everything alright?” one of the makeup ladies behind the counter asked. She was wearing a suit and three pounds of blush.

“Federal agent.” Manetti badged her. “We’re here on official business.”

“Oh my.” Makeup Lady shrunk a few inches. “Would you like me to call security?”

“No.” Manetti held out her phone. It displayed an image of Mobray. “Have you seen this man?”

“No. Should I call the police?”             

“Definitely not.”

She was puzzled by this. Her hand was under the counter but through the glass I could see her reaching for her phone.

I said, “Don’t touch that fucking phone.”

Nothing like tough talking an old woman who worked in a mall.

Makeup Lady’s hand shot back from the phone.

We left the department store and entered the mall proper. We were in an atrium with potted plants and couches. A couple rug rats were playing ninja warrior on the furniture, hopping from couch to couch. A staircase ahead rose and doubled back on itself.

Manetti said, “I know you’re not one hundred percent but stay frosty. We lose him and we’re back to the drawing board.”

“I told you before, I’m a good man in a storm.”

She had that sharp look like she was about to say something snide. But she didn’t.

“I’m starting to believe it. Don’t let us down.”

“I’m the guy that gets the job done, Manetti.”

She nodded once. I’d gone up another peg. Then she made a beeline for the staircase. Mall patrons ducked out of her way as she took the stairs two at a time.

I scanned the immediate area. There was an indoor miniature golf place and a recently closed bookstore filled with empty shelves. My head was still pounding.

“He’s in the middle of the mall,” Pater said.

“I don’t know where the middle is,” I said.

“Keep walking. And go about halfway.”

He was trying to take my mind off the killing. “I’m in no mood for humor.”

I kept walking. As people came out of stores they caught sight of me. Blood-stained, crooked gauze-filled nose, looking like all nine circles of hell rolled into one. Mothers pulled their little ones close. Seniors shuffled out of my way and rasped very indiscreetly about me.

But it wasn’t just me they were staring at. It was each other. People went out of their way to get too close to each other. The air was charged. With unease, uncertainty. On any normal day, this was a cozy place where you were likely to bump into someone you knew and the store owners only had the occasional kleptos to worry about.

I passed a dollar store and a play area for kids filled with dollar rides. Each step sent a jarring reverberation of pain shooting into my head. I needed those meds to kick in fast. I was close to useless.

“What the hell are you looking at?”             

I stopped in my tracks, spun. The last hadn’t been directed at me. Some video-game junkie with ridiculous hair and a t-shirt two sizes too small had gotten loud with a muscle-bound broad who looked like she’d broken five thigh masters.

“Excuse me?” Her voice was husky, either from smokes or a vestigial pair of balls.

“I said. What the hell are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”             

I knew what was happening even if they didn’t.

“Pater, things are accelerating,” I said.

“We know. More police activity. The emergency lines are blowing up.”

“Get away from me, you weirdo,” the woman said.

The gamer ambled away but didn’t take his eyes off her for a good ten feet. Then he broke into as unathletic a run as I’ve ever seen, headed for the department store and presumably the exit.

I walked on. “Is Mobray still not moving?”

“He’s held pretty steady,” Eamon said.

“You have any access to this mall?” I said.

“No. You’re on your own in there.”

Fine enough by me.

I kept going, past a candle shop and several clothing chains. I could smell the food court up ahead.

“Food court in the middle of the mall?” Manetti asked.

I looked up and saw her moving close to the railing above. Her eyes were on the stores though.

“Uh…yes. He’s close,” Pater said.

I slowed and became very conscious of the gun at the small of my back. It was still lunch time, there was a lot of traffic in the food court. Our man was stationary. I figured he was eating.

That made little sense in the rational world. Anybody who’d narrowly escaped being tortured and group-murdered wouldn’t immediately drive to the mall for a slice of pizza.

But we weren’t in the rational world. Time and space still existed but this was a separate reality where men and woman attempted to kill each other for no reason.

“No way he’s just eating,” Manetti said.             

“Great minds,” I said.

I thought I heard her chuckle. “So where is he? I’ve got a hipster furniture store, antiquery, and one of those early Americana places with a lot of useless, expensive knick-knacks. I don’t see our guy.”

I turned to the food court and started down the aisle. Four kids kept running up to the bakery for sample chocolate chip cookies. There was a yogurt and smoothie stand wedged between that and a burrito place. I kept my eyes on the eateries and the tables as I swept along the perimeter, pretending to look for a place to eat. I passed a Japanese/Chinese place and rounded in front of the exit. Nobody was outside except a few teens who must have skipped school just to smoke cigarettes.

I went along the other side of the court. There was an ice cream place doing a business and a fast food joint not-so-slowly killing its patrons.

The tables in the middle of the court were about half-full. In the middle of the room a group of seniors played a game of bridge and argued loudly about the rules.

I didn’t see him.

“He still here?”

“Yes. You have to be close.”

“He’s not in the food court. I’m checking the john.”

I did. He wasn’t in the men’s room. No ladies were screaming and running out of the women’s room so I figured he wasn’t in there either.

“He’s not up here. I’m coming down,” Manetti said.

I waited, watched. Stalked. There was a hum in the air, beyond the running of all the machines and refrigerators in the food court.

Manetti met me by the entrance to the food court.

“Where the hell is he?” she said. “Pater, any movement?”

“No, still in the same posi—”

A woman screamed.

Everybody in the cafeteria looked up.

I saw the screamer. Manetti did too. The woman was running blindly toward the cafeteria, looking over her shoulder.

She ran right into a trash can and spilled.

“Ma’am, what’s the matter?” Manetti helped her up.

“We need help, we need help.”

There was blood on her hands.

People were getting out of their seats and scurrying away.

I looked up and saw the woman bodybuilder from earlier, walking quickly back the way we’d both come.

“She put a knife in him—I don’t know why—”

“Who put a knife in who?”

She answered by pointing behind her. “In the store. I don’t know why.”

“What store?”

“Sports, sporting goods…” She pointed vaguely behind her. “Are you the police?” She seemed to realize I had a broken nose.

“Not exactly, listen—” I said.

“Oh my God are you like her?” She put her hands over her mouth and her knees started shaking.

“No, just listen. What did the woman look like?”

“Tall, very butch.” She puffed her chest out. “It doesn’t make sense…”

“Manetti, I know who she’s talking about, I saw her earlier and I just saw her running.”

Manetti said, “Is the man still in the store? The man who was stabbed?”

“Ye-yes…he’s bleeding, there’s blood everywhere…”

She turned into a babbling mess.

Manetti and I left her there and hurried. We had our guns drawn. People were getting out of our way.

I knew what the woman looked like. She didn’t. And we needed to get to both of them. That way, if one of us wasn’t successful the other would be a failsafe.

“I know what the woman looks like, you go after the guy.”

“For once we agree.”

I wasn’t expecting that.

She said, “Go get her.”

“Alright. I’m hoping it’s not Mobray that just got stabbed.”

“The way this thing is going.” She took off running, screaming
Federal Agent!
as she cut through the gaper delay in front of the sporting goods store.

I went the other way.

Lady Schwarzenegger had ten seconds on me, which is an eternity when you’re talking about a short foot race. She was probably outside the mall by now. But she was also our only suspect. Melanie and company had gotten away or were dead. If I could get this woman, Pater could lean on her and we could maybe find the Man Who Laughs, or Ken Hernando, or both if they were the same.

I sprinted. There were people bickering all around as I zipped down the corridor. Someone had knocked over one of those wooden stands where eastern Europeans tried to sell you overpriced perfume and cologne. An old man was on his ass, looking confused and holding his temple. Two little girls were screaming for their mother, who was herself yelling at one of the vendors in the middle of the mall.