The Uninvited (23 page)

Bob looked at him, questions in his eyes.
Yeah.” He pointed to a closet. “Right in there. In a box.”

“Get it.” He turned to Kiri and Tanya. “Kiri, get her out into the car. Start moving to Dr. Long's clinic. We'll catch up with you before you get there. Move!” he yelled, startling her into action.

Kiri pushed the woman out onto the porch.

You mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Bob demanded. He held a box from the closet in his hands.

“Is there a change of clothes in there?” Brett asked, pointing to the closet.

“Sure. Old stuff. Stuff we all wear to work in the yard.”

“Get it and come on.”

Bob finally balked, standing his ground.
You mind telling me why?”

“'Cause I think all hell's about to break loose.”

 

 

The power company dispatcher was attempting to contact the linemen. He had been trying for twenty minutes. All the trucks were out. No one responded.

The local manager shook his head. “One of them should have replied. Something is bad wrong. I'm going out and take a look around. What's the last location you had?”

“Andrews Road. Just across from the Worth place.”

“I'll stay in touch.”

The office was quiet after the manager left. The radio was quiet. The dispatcher thought he heard a clicking sound coming from the workroom in the rear of the building. He decided to go take a look.

 

 

Using the radios in their cars, Sheriffs Ransonet and Grant talked back and forth.

“How's the situation there, Mike?”

“It seemed to have calmed some, Vic. Thank God.” He did not know that Tommy Sabatier was once more on the prowl, and had found a victim. “The phones are all screwed up, though. I figure less than thirty percent of them are working.”

“Same here. Any more victims crop up?”

Not that I know of. But it sure is quiet, Vic. No traffic coming out of the Parish. That's not natural. Freddie just quit me, though. Just took off. Left me short-handed. I don't need that at this time.”

“I know the feeling, Mike. Mike? You know Pukey's in charge down in Baton Rouge?”

Yeah. God help the State. I'd sure hate to have to call that little twerp for help.”

“It might come to that,” Vic reminded him.

“I know,” the Baronne Parish Sheriff sighed over the air. “Have you spoken to any of the doctors?”

“No. Not a word. They're all shut up over at the clinic. Think I'll take a run over there in a minute. See what's going on.”

“I'll leave my radio on at the house. Call me the minute you know anything.”

10-4.”

Rollie Satler squalled up to the curb. “Sheriff? I just talked with Jimmy on tach. Big mess over at Dick Plano's house. His wife and kids been murdered. Gore everywhere. Jimmy said it was a real mess. Want me to help him work it?”

“Please, Rollie. I'll be there in a minute.”

The trooper roared off in a sea of red and blue flashing lights.

“What next?” Slick asked.

“I think it's just beginning.”

Neither man wanted to go view the carnage. Both knew they had to go.

In the Lapeer Parish Sheriff's Office, the dispatcher—or what was left of him—lay on the floor under a dark feeding swarm of mutants. No human sound came from the building, only the dry whisperings of thousands of legs and the soft munching as the mutants fed. The walls, the ceilings, and the floors of the building seemed to move with evil volition.

Down the street, Vic and Slick stood by the deserted street, listening to the radios in their cars pop and crackle with static.

“It's too quiet, Vic.”

“I know. The streets should have a lot of cars and pickups on them. There's no traffic coming in from outside of town. Something is very wrong.”

The men walked to the sheriff's car. Vic picked up his microphone. “LP One to any unit.”

“Nine. Go ahead.”

“Anything out there, Larry?”

“Nothing, Sheriff. And I mean nothing. I have not seen one car or truck rolling on any Parish road. Not one!”

Sheriff Ransonet looked at Slick and shook his head.

The city police began reporting in. “Sheriff? This is patrolman Bernhart. I'm out by the old warehouse. Been here for forty minutes. Not one vehicle has passed by. It's as quiet as a graveyard out here.”

“I wish he'd used some other kind of comparison,” Slick said.

Two other city patrolmen reported in. Nothing moving. Nothing. The movie theatre would let out in about half an hour. There should be some traffic then, but there weren't many cars parked in the theater parking lot.

“LP-nine to base,” the voice cut through the air.

The dispatcher did not respond.

LP-nine to base. Come on, Luther—wake up!”

But Luther would never wake up, and everything in the Sheriff's Department that could be eaten, was. Paper, shoes, jackets, the wiring on the radios, calendars. The munching continued unheard.

Vic grabbed his mike. “This is One. Go ahead.”

“Sheriff? The south bridge over the Velour just caved in, our side.”

How bad?”

“Nobody was on it, but about forty or fifty feet of it is missing. I've got flares out and Trooper Wright is getting the highway department.”

“Stay there until the highway boys can block it off.”

10-4.”