Desolation Page 9

  “My doppelgänger killed your neighbour? That’s what you’re saying?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Well … why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do the cops say about it?”

  “That’s complicated.”

  “In what way?”

  “They’re in on it.”

  “In on what?”

  “The murder.”

  Javier frowned. “You’re going to have to start at the beginning.”

  “I was here. I looked into my neighbour’s house as your doppelgänger killed him. He snuck out, and before I could call them, the police turned up. The Chief of Police, actually. They took the body out in the middle of the night and covered up the whole thing.”

  “Say it ain’t so.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “What kind of pills are you on, Abernathy?”

  “Heart medication.”

  “No pills that would make you hallucinate or imagine things or go crazy?”

  “No crazy pills, no.”

  “Cos it sounds like you’re on crazy pills.”

  “I know how it sounds.”

  “And you’re saying my double, my doppelgänger, is a killer? And you don’t know his name?”

  Virgil hesitated.

  “You do!” said Javier, eyes widening. “You do know his name!”

  “I showed an old picture of you I got off the internet to the lady who delivers the mail, asked if she recognised this person. She said his name was Oscar Moreno.”

  “My picture’s on the internet? Am I one of those internet stars I been hearing about?”

  “No. As far as I can see, internet stars are cats and dogs and animals who do funny things.”

  “Like Mr Ed?”

  “I don’t think you’re quite getting it, but that’s okay.”

  “And where does this Moreno guy live?”

  “Across town,” said Virgil. “I looked him up in the phone book.”

  “Just like you used to do on the show.”

  “I guess.”

  “Is that what this is?” Javier asked. “Are you falling into some delusion where you can no longer separate reality from fiction? Do you think we’re in an episode of the show right now?”

  “If we were, you’d be Ernesto Insidio, evil mastermind, and I’d have to punch you again.”

  Javier let a slow smile creep on to his face. “I think you might be nuts.”

  “I really don’t care.”

  “I actually think you might be losing your marbles. Do you know your own name? Tell me, are you Virgil Abernathy, washed-up television actor, or the Shroud, crime-fighting hero?”

  Virgil looked at him, and shrugged. “I can’t be both?”

  AMBER’S HANDS WERE GETTING better. They were still stiff, still discoloured, but the throb had reduced to almost nothing, and she could actually move her fingers now. She tested them on the walk from Main Street to the Dowall Motel, wriggling them a little in their bandages. The iPad was in the bag on her back and it bounced with every step she took. She was walking fast. After a day spent in her human form, she was ready to crawl out of her own skin.

  She passed a park where little kids played on jungle gyms and swing sets while their parents looked on. The afternoon had turned to early evening, but it was still bright, still way too bright, and it was cold and getting colder, and they were all wrapped up in thick coats. Amber barely felt it. She started up the hill, keeping her eyes on the motel at the top. She envisioned herself walking into her room and stripping off her clothes and shifting, and had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

  A car pulled up alongside her, its window down.

  “Hello there!” the driver said brightly.

  Amber frowned at him and kept walking.

  He was fat and balding, unexceptional, but his smile was intense in its friendliness. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Daggett Road is …?”

  “I’m not from around here,” Amber said.

  “What was that?” the driver asked, keeping pace.

  “I’m not from around here,” she repeated, louder.

  He shook his head. “Sorry, still can’t hear you.” He pulled in ahead of her and Amber stopped walking. He got out, holding a map. He wore a bowling shirt that did nothing to hide his bulk.

  “I’m not from around here,” Amber told him again.

  “I’m just looking for Daggett Road,” he explained, coming closer.

  “I can’t help you,” said Amber. “I don’t live here, I’m not from here.”

  “But look,” the man said, holding out the map. “I know where it is, I just don’t know where I am.”

  Amber started to back up. “I can’t help you.”

  “I won’t take up much of your time,” said the man. “I’m just trying to get to Daggett Road.”

  “Please stay back.”

  “Why?” the man asked, a wounded expression on his face. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just asking for directions. Are you scared? Why are you scared? I’m just asking for directions.”

  “And I told you I can’t help you.”

  “But you haven’t even tried.”

  “I’m not from the area.”

  “I just want to find Daggett Road. Can you show me where we are on this map?”

  “I don’t know where we are.”

  “Of course you do,” the man said, and chuckled.

  “Sir, I don’t know the name of the road we’re on, I don’t know how to find it on a map, and I don’t know where Daggett Road is. There’s a bunch of people down in the playground you could ask.”

  “What playground?”

  “You just passed it.”

  “Yeah?” he said, and looked around. “Didn’t notice it. Maybe you could help me find the playground on the map?”

  He stepped towards her and she held up a hand. “Stop.”

  “Stop?”

  “Stop where you are.”

  He laughed. “This is America, young lady. Land of the free. You can’t tell me what to do. If I want to walk, I walk.”

  He took another step, and another, matching her backwards steps.

  She snarled. “Sir, if you take one more goddamn step, you’re going to regret it.”

  “Yeah?” said the man, and then he showed her the gun he was holding under the map. “Somehow, I don’t think so.”

  Amber’s eyes widened. The gun was an automatic, and it had a silencer on the muzzle.

  “Don’t do it,” the man said. “Don’t change. Moment I see horns, I’m putting a bullet between them.”

  She didn’t need to ask him why he was here.

  “Where is he?” the man said. “The Ghost. Where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “The Ghost of the Highway,” the man snapped. “I know he’s here with you, so where exactly is he?”

  She thought about lying, but couldn’t come up with a way to exploit a lie, so she decided on the truth. “He’s keeping an eye on the Hounds,” she said. “You know about the Hounds, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I know about the Hounds. But where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He drives around a little. Checks the perimeter.”

  He aimed for her head. “Where is he?”

  Amber swallowed. “Over that way.” She jerked her head to show him.

  “Then we’re going in the opposite direction,” the man said. He motioned to the car. “In you get. Go on. No, the driver’s side.”

  “What?”

  “You’re gonna drive us right up to those Hounds, and I’m gonna sit beside you and keep this gun pointed straight at your gut.”

  “I can’t drive.” She held up her hands. “I can’t grip the wheel.”

  “What?” He shook his head. He looked furious. “What the hell did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Amber replied. “It was a guy like you, someone who wanted to take me back to the Shi
ning Demon. He did this.”

  “Shit.” The man stared at her. He started chewing his lip. “Shit. Well, I can’t drive. I gotta keep the gun on you.”

  “Don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

  “Shut up,” he said. “Shut up and let me … Okay, right, Plan B. We walk outta here.”

  “Walk out of town? That’s miles.”

  “You think I’m happy about it? Walk ahead of me. We stay away from anyone we see, you understand? If you try to be sneaky and alert someone to what’s going on, I kill them, you dig? Get going.”

  They got to the park and cut across it, staying out of sight of the kids and their parents. Every minute or so the man would issue another instruction to steer clear of houses or roads or people walking their dogs. They got to an old walking track and stayed on it for a while.

  “So who are you?” Amber asked.

  “I don’t recall saying anything about small talk.”

  “This isn’t small talk,” she said. “I think I deserve to know the name of the man who’s going to deliver me to the Hounds.”

  She heard the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, maybe. Name’s Phil Daggett – though most people know me as the Yukon Strangler.”

  “Serial killer?”

  “There is not a name for what I am.”

  “You a friend of Elias Mauk, then?”

  “He’s never had the privilege of meeting me. But he will. When this is over and I get the power I want, they’ll all wanna meet me.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. His face was red and his breathing was laboured. He wasn’t used to this much exercise. Neither was she, for that matter. She didn’t want to imagine what her own face looked like.

  “You’re still alive,” she said.

  “Eyes front.”

  Amber looked ahead as she walked. “You’re still alive,” she repeated. “Most of the killers who sign up with the Shining Demon wait until they’re dead to … Wait. You haven’t signed up with him, have you?”

  “No more talking.”

  She stopped suddenly, and turned.

  Daggett pulled up, confused. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You haven’t made a deal with him, have you?” she asked. “So why are you here?”

  “Get moving.”

  “Not until you answer my questions.”

  “I will kill you right now if you do not start walking.”

  “The Shining Demon wants me alive,” she countered. “So come on – what’s in it for you?”

  He hesitated. “If I hand you over, I get my deal.”

  “You tried to make a deal before this,” she said, “but you weren’t interesting enough, were you?”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “Explain it to me, Phil, or I’m not moving.”

  “Goddamn you, you little bitch …! You march when I goddamn say you march!”

  “Explain.”

  Fury danced in his eyes. “I tried to make a deal,” he said. “So what? I tried and it didn’t work. It doesn’t work for everyone. I understood. I didn’t let it stop me. I kept going out, I killed more women – whores and sluts and filthy, filthy creatures, the lot of them – because I knew, I knew that if I could just prove myself worthy of his interest, all my dreams would come true. Then the night before last my bedroom was filled with this light, with this incredible light … I figured it was a sign. I figured he was calling me. I did the whole circle thing … and it worked, and I was in his castle.”

  “And he offered you a deal if you could come in here and drag me out.”

  “I jumped in my car immediately. I didn’t think I’d be the first to find you, but hey.” He shrugged, and smiled. “I guess it’s my lucky day.”

  Amber frowned. “The first?”

  Daggett laughed. “You didn’t think I was the only one, did you? Everyone who’s ever tried to contact him and failed, he summoned. They’re all on their way here. Serial killers of all kinds are closing in on this town as we speak.”

  The guy who’d disguised himself as a state trooper. Just another psycho who’d had her in his crosshairs. Now it made sense.

  “Since I’ve been here I’ve met others,” Daggett continued. “Two of them even wanted to join forces with me, can you believe that? What, they gonna start a union next? Ridiculous. You can never trust a serial killer, not even if you are one. That’s what I told them, but off they went. I’d have shot them both in the back, but there were too many witnesses – and that just proves my point even more! Serial killers cannot be trusted! Do you get it now? There’s so many of us that it’s over for you. You never stood a chance.”

  “But why you?” she asked. “Why not send more like Elias Mauk? They have powers. You’re just a guy.”

  “Because we’re the new breed,” said Daggett. “Mauk belongs with Shanks and Utt and that guy in Iowa – relegated to the history books. Me and my brothers and sisters, we’re the new generation of nightmares.”

  “New generation of assholes, you mean.”

  He raised the gun. “Move.”

  “You’re not going to kill me.”

  He switched his aim to her leg. “I don’t have to kill you.”

  “Do you know how far we are from the edge of town? You going to carry me all that way, are you? I know I’m not one to talk, I’m carrying around some extra baggage, but you? You’re already close to dropping dead from exhaustion.”

  “Shut the hell up.”

  “You’re not fit, Phil. You’re not going to be able to carry me.”

  “No,” said Daggett, “but I can shoot you in the leg, beat you into a coma, then go back and get my car. What do you think now, smartmouth? You gonna start walking now?”

  Amber resumed walking.

  “Yeah,” said Daggett. “That’s what I figured.”

  He kept pace behind her.

  After another hour, walking with a gun pointed at her didn’t seem like that big of a deal. She got flashes of panic when she heard him stumble, or trip over something, and the more they walked, the more he stumbled, but he didn’t fall and the gun didn’t accidentally go off.

  They approached a carnival site, the rides and attractions covered with tarps and the grass growing wild and long. Sunlight glinted off a mirrored door. In the height of the summer, it probably looked a lot more impressive than it did right now.

  They kept going. Her feet were hurting. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked this much. Her skin itched. She wanted to shift and spin and tear his head off. Instead, as 10pm passed by and the sun went down, she kept walking. In this crazy twilight, it was still more than bright enough to see.

  “How far?” Daggett said eventually.

  “Dunno,” she answered.

  “I thought you knew where we were going.”

  She glanced back. “You pointed me in this direction – you said walk.”

  “You’re in front,” said Daggett. “That means you’re leading the way. Jesus Christ, we could’ve been walking in circles, you stupid bitch.”

  She stopped and turned.

  “Goddammit,” he said, “stop doing that. Keep walking.”

  “Not unless you stop with the name-calling.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “Are you … are you serious?”

  “I don’t like it. From the very start you’ve been, like, totally misogynistic. You may have a problem with women, fine, whatever – but I don’t need to hear about it.”

  “I’m holding a gun on you.”

  “And that’s bad enough without listening to your hatred.”

  “Are you shittin’ me right now?”

  “I’m not shitting you, no. Are you going to quit it with the misogyny?”

  He scowled. “What’s … what’s misogyny mean?”

  “It’s the hatred of women.”

  “And if I quit hating women, will you keep walking?”

  “Yes
.”

  “Then okay, I’ll stop being … whatever it’s called.”

  “Misogynistic,” Amber said, and started walking again.

  “How do you know we’re not walking in circles?” he asked from behind.

  “I don’t,” she said. “You’re the one with the map.”

  “It’s a map of Vancouver.”

  “I have no way of knowing where we are, Phil, all right? No idea.”

  “Call me the Yukon Strangler.”

  “I have no idea where we are, Yukon Strangler.”

  They walked on in silence for a few moments.

  “Just call me Phil,” Daggett muttered.

  Night had fallen – real night, with darkness and everything – by the time they heard the motorcycles. By this stage, they were surrounded by trees that appeared as solid blacks in a darkening haze. Yellow headlights came at them in shifting strips.

  “There,” said Daggett, giving her a shove. “Hurry. Go faster.”

  Amber picked up the pace. Puffing now, he hurried after her, barging through a last tangle of branches and leaves. He caught up with her just as she reached the Charger.

  Daggett froze. “Hey,” he said. “This is—”

  Milo appeared behind him, gun pressed to the side of Daggett’s sweaty head. “Drop it.”

  Daggett froze. Then, slowly, he held out his arm, and dropped the gun.

  Milo pushed him up against the car, started to frisk him.

  Daggett glared at Amber. “You tricked me.”

  She ignored him, and spoke instead to Milo. “His name’s Phil Daggett. He wasn’t interesting enough for the Shining Demon to make a deal with, but he’ll get what he wants if he hands me over. He says he’s not the only one who’s been offered this.”

  Finished with the search and finding nothing, Milo stepped back and considered their options.

  “We could put him in the trunk,” Amber suggested.

  “I don’t like small spaces,” Daggett said immediately.

  “No point,” said Milo. “The car would kill him slow, and we wouldn’t be able to use the trunk for a week or two. Better to just kill him now, get it over with. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”

  “But I did hesitate,” said Daggett. “Please, Mr Ghost, if you let me go, you’ll never see me again.”

  “Don’t call me that,” said Milo.

  “Sorry,” said Daggett. “But I’m a big fan. A huge fan. I thought you were a legend, a myth, until a few days ago. When I was told you were with her, I … I have to admit, I cried with happiness. I’m just a huge, huge admirer of your work.”