The Portal ~ Large Print (16 page)

V
ivian had no
doubt that Mister Vincent meant his threat. And yet, standing beside him now, she couldn’t calm her nerves. Jarod really could be killed. It wasn’t just that, though. Mister Vincent didn’t know everything. He was closer to human than she’d thought. Did that mean he could die, too?

Either way, she needed to get Cody and escape this place. Then kill Jarod. Finally, she had a plan.

The front door of the Lego house opened. A teenage boy with a chipped tooth walked out and down the walkway, past a flowerbed of lollipops. He held Cody’s hand.

“Don’t forget our arrangement,” Mister Vincent said. “Calm him, and then I’ll send you home safely.”

“How do I know that I can trust you?”

“I don’t lie,” he said as if the idea was beneath him. Then he opened the front picket gate.

“Mommy.” Cody pulled away and ran to her.

“I’m here.” She ducked down and hugged him close. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “We were playing, but I couldn’t find you.”

“It’s important for a boy to have his mother,” Mister Vincent said.

“I love you so much. Mommy will always be here for you.”

“Remember.” Mister Vincent clicked the gate closed. “It’s also important for a mother to know when to let go.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She picked up Cody and stepped back.

“It’s okay,” Cody told her. “This is Mister Vincent. My friend.”

“I know, sweetie.” She kissed his forehead and stared at the old man. “What do you want with my son?”

He seemed surprised by her outburst. He surveyed the landscape, apparently searching for more cracks in Cody Town.

“Your boy is quite special,” he said calmly, but his eyes seethed as he turned back to her. “You’d be surprised how rare his gift is. He can see both of our worlds. Like his daddy before him.”

“Use Jarod then,” she said. “Leave us out of this.”

“If only I could.” A sad look flashed across his face. “It’s not in my interest to use someone so young, but Jarod’s gift was murdered in a bathtub thirty years ago. What’s left of him isn’t even a man anymore.”

“Have you even tried?”

“What do you think happened last night?” he said loudly, and then seemed to catch himself. “Do you think I enjoyed creating that beast?”

“Why did you do it then?”

“You need to clean out your ears.” He pointed a bony finger at her. “I hoped it would work. Instead, it changed him. I’ve waited thirty years for the Carmichaels to produce a viable offspring. We won’t be held back any longer.”

Jesus.
We?
Somewhere, there were more Mister Vincents.

“I won’t let you turn my baby into a monster.”

“Nonsense.” He waved the thought away. “His gift isn’t broken like his father’s. Besides, you don’t have much say in the matter, now do you?”

“The hell I don’t.”

“Keep it up,” he said. “And this won’t end well.”

“Stop scaring Mommy,” Cody shouted.

“I wish I could, son.” He glared at her. “But just like your daddy, she doesn’t listen.”

The children moved back from behind the toys. They held hands and formed a giant circle. Their sickly faces whirled by as they began rotating. One way. Then back the other.

“Ring a ring of roses,” they chanted. “Sing with us Cody.”

“Wait,” she told them. “What’s going on?”

“It’s time,” Mister Vincent said. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

“What about Cody?” she demanded. “I won’t leave him here.”

“This will happen. With, or without your blessing.”

What could she do? Think.
I don’t lie,
Mister Vincent had said. If that were true, then Cody really did have control in this place. What did that mean though? She glanced around, and suddenly she didn’t feel so alone.

“Mister Vincent is a bad man, sweetie,” she said. “He’s scaring Mommy.”

Millions of micro-fractures punched the circular clearing. The army of toys chittered and stood at attention. The bear aimed its musket at Mister Vincent’s chest.

“Is this how you treat your friends?” There was no mistaking the threat in Mister Vincent’s tone. “Who will play with you when Mommy and Daddy won’t stop fighting?”

“I will.” She held Cody close. “Forever and ever.”

“Who will chase away the hand in the closet, or protect you from the Dead Tree?”

Cody looked at her confused. Mister Vincent had been his friend since he could speak. Probably longer. That was nice and all, but she was his mother.

“Mister Vincent wants me to leave you here and never come back,” she told Cody.

“No.” He shook his head and started crying. Blue electricity arced from Pikachu’s back and webbed across the granite.

“Baby.” She couldn’t control her tears listening to the terror in his voice. “He wants your daddy to kill me.”

“Bad Mister Vincent,” Cody shouted.

A gunshot echoed across Cody Town. Then two more. The old man stared down at his own chest. Black blood seeped through the three holes in his vest. As he looked up, veins of oil sprang from the corners of his eye.

“I see we’re going to have to do this the hard way.” He walked toward her. Shadows seeped from cracks in the cobblestone under his feet, leaving puddle footprints of a dark writhing substance.

She held Cody’s head against her shoulder, turned, and ran back the way she came. On both sides of the street, giant locusts swarmed from the dead forest, blotting out the florescent sky. Their wings flitted and pecked at her hair and face.

Glancing back, she saw Cody’s bear swipe at Mister Vincent with those razor claws. He caught the paw with one hand and tore it off.

She spun back around to find the end of the cobblestone street, where she’d entered Cody Town.

“Can you get us out of here?” she asked.

“I don’t know how,” he said.

“I won’t protect you from Jarod this time.” Mister Vincent’s voice came from all directions. “What that man’s got planned for you—”

The charred forest itself seemed to wake up, devouring the street behind them.

“Get us out of here,” Vivian shouted. “Now.”

Cody grabbed her face with both of his hands. The colors and lights blinked. Then she felt as though she was squeezed through a tube again. Rain splashed her face. She lay on her side. Cody was still in her arms. They were back on the rooftop in the real world.

“Mommy,” he cried.

“I’m here, sweetie.” She hugged him. “I love you.”

An explosion shook the roof. The helicopter must’ve crashed. A mushroom cloud of flame and black smoke erupted over the edge of the building, showing Jarod’s silhouette fifty feet away. Christ, somehow he’d made it to the rooftop safely.

She got to her feet with Cody in her arms. She’d spent at least fifteen minutes in Cody Town. Here, it seemed that only seconds had passed.

“We should go.” Erika ran up to her.

“Take Cody.” Vivian handed him over. He began crying. Erika started to protest, so she shouted, “We don’t have time to argue. You swore to me that you’d protect him.”

Erika considered it, nodded, and then said, “With my life.”

She backed away with a struggling Cody in her arms.

“Mommy,” he shouted.

“Go,” Vivian said. “Before it’s too late.”

“Butterfly,” Jarod called out. She turned to find him walking toward her. “Looks like there’s nowhere to left to hide.”

She walked over and picked up Officer Franklin’s gun from the rooftop. For some reason, she couldn’t help but think of her mother and drunken Kenny. Her sister Tammy. Jarod’s smirk as he had her arrested that night.

“Good.” She turned to face him. “Because I’m through running from you.”

R
ows of lights
lined the helicopter’s landing pad, yet the rooftop remained ominously dark. A mixture of blood and rain dripped down Vivian’s arm and off the end of the gun’s barrel. With the wound on her shoulder and the cuts on her wrist, she felt lightheaded. Sirens whined, too faint to be useful. It didn’t matter, though. One way or another, this would end tonight.

Yesterday, she’d emptied an entire clip into Jarod’s head, and he’d lived. First, she needed to wear down his power high. Then she just might be able to kill him. With her lack of training, she had to get close enough to make every bullet count.

To the left, Erika carried Cody through the glass access doors to the hospital. Jarod immediately turned his attention to them. That didn’t make sense. After all this time, he’d finally gotten her alone. Why not kill her now? God, it was Cody. Jarod’s source of power. Could Mister Vincent give him a reboot? She had no doubt that he could.

“What’s the matter?” She limped after him, unwilling to waste bullets yet. “Scared to face me, coward?”

“You’ll get your turn.” His laughter sounded like screams of pain, but he didn’t stop.

“Pretty cocky for someone who’s missing an arm,” she said.

That got his attention. His neck muscles spasmed as he glared at her.

“I’ll gut you where you stand.” His large jaw revealed fresh rips in his cheeks. They began healing when he quit talking.

“You might want to check with Mister Vincent first.”

“I answer to no one,” he roared. “You know nothing.”

“I always knew you were a prick,” she said. “But sacrificing your own son?”

“He is meat. Nothing more.”

She aimed the gun with both hands and fired a test round, which punched his heart. He leapt at her. She rolled to the side. He skidded past her across the wet rooftop and slammed into a pile of construction materials.

For a second, he struggled to free his hook claw from the plastic tarp covering the concrete bags. She fired two more rounds. One missed. How many did that leave? Seven, maybe eight. Was that even enough?

Suddenly, he leapt at her again. Before she could squeeze the trigger, he grabbed her neck with his massive claw and lifted her off the ground. Snapping those jaws, he carried her backward and slammed her into something.

With one leg on her chest, he pinned her to the wall along the edge of the building. She swung the gun up.

“Scream for me.” He leaned in and dug one finger into her flesh above her collarbone.

Pain crippled her. She fought with everything she had, but a gasp escaped her lips. The gun dropped to her feet.

“That’s it,” he said. “More.”

“Fuck you.” She tried to shout, but the words came without air.

“I like that.” His eyes fluttered as he reached down and began unbuckling his pants. “I doubt they’ll recognize you when I’m finished.”

With her last ounce of strength, she swung her fist, which glanced the side of his head. He shrieked and released her. No way the blow had that much force. Some kind of spear punched through his chest. Who had done that? Jarod turned around and backhanded Erika, who launched five feet. The angled end of a crowbar stuck from his back.

Vivian wrenched it free. Adrenaline surged through her as she slammed him across the head with the bar. He turned. She struck again, this time with the hooked end. Facial skin tore away, revealing skull and teeth. He swayed. Blood poured down his shredded dress shirt, yet the flesh began to grow back over his wounds, definitely slower now.

Quickly, she picked up the gun, shoved it against his balls, and fired twice. He dropped to the rooftop in a snarling fit, so she jammed the barrel into his open mouth and fired until she ran out of bullets. Even through the spatter of gore and guts, the bastard still twitched. His skin began to morph.

“Son of a mother-fucking bitch!”

“What are we going to do?” Erika limped over to her.

Vivian staggered to the construction area, found a shovel for mixing concrete, and then moved back over Jarod. She placed the tip of the blade on his throat and stomped down on the shovel. Two times. Then three. She leaned down and pried his skull free by his hair.

“Let’s see you come back without a fucking head,” she shouted.

Erika had a shocked expression.

“What?” Vivian said.

“I didn’t say shit.”

“Good.” She moved to the building’s edge and tossed the head over. A car alarm sounded. Jesus, she could’ve hit someone below. She glanced over the side to find the head embedded in an ambulance’s windshield.

“Cody,” Vivian said, and then spun to face Erika.

“He’s at the nurse’s station,” she said. “The entire staff is watching him.”

“We have to get him.”

Vivian hurried back over and checked Jarod’s body. She raised the shovel, ready to leave a limbless torso behind if necessary.

“Is that it?” Erika asked.

His body was a ragged mess. No jittering. No healing. No forearm, and his head was down on the street below.

This time there was pretty much no doubt.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s over.”

***

S
tromsky sat in
the back of the limo, staring at Jarod Carmichael’s head embedded in a windshield. He was irritated with the night’s events to say the least. His reputation had come into question. Charlotte had even seen fit to commission a second team for a job that he’d been overqualified to handle.

To add insult to injury, Vivian Carmichael, that vile creature, had spit on his suit coat. He dampened his handkerchief with club soda and did his best to clean the filth. Normally he didn’t enjoy the unpleasantness of his business. She would be an exception.

His cellular phone rang. He reached into his inner coat pocket and answered.

“Mrs. Carmichael on the line,” Charlotte’s assistant said. “Please hold.”

“Kevin,” she said quickly.

“Charlotte, we have important matters to discuss.” Normally, manners shouldn’t be sacrificed in the interest of time. This wasn’t an option tonight. “It seems that a certain group that you’ve hired has cost us tonight. Their amateurish behavior has set back our objective of secrecy.”

“I know, darling. It’s terrible.”

“I’ve served the Carmichael family for many years now.”

“It was foolish,” she said. “I know, but I’ve always been too anxious when family is concerned. Can you ever forgive an old friend?”

“Water under the bridge, Charlotte. Let us speak of it no more.”

“Is there any news?” she asked.

“Your son has been dealt with. After witnessing the night’s events, however, I am positive that Vivian needs tending.”

“We must do whatever it takes to protect the family. Please call when you’re finished, Kevin. We’ll meet for tea. We must catch up.”

“Until then, Charlotte.”