The Nightrunners Part 25

"G.o.d, G.o.d, oh G.o.d," Moses screamed.

The store was a writhing monster of red, yellow and orange flames. It spit black smoke to the sky.

Pop was little more than a charcoal stick in the driveway.

"G.o.d, Jesus, G.o.d," Moses kept saying. He went over to Pop, bent down.

"G.o.d, Jesus, Pop?"

One of Pop's hands lifted, slightly, like a dying b.u.t.terfly, flopped back on the cement.

"Oh G.o.d, Jesus, G.o.d."

Ted and Larry saw the flames standing hot and tall above the pines.

They made a curve. The store-what was left of it; a charred wood skeleton being devoured by a fire blob-was visible now. A man crouched over something in the drive.

Ted put it to the floorboard, screeched into the driveway.

The kids in the black '66 were nearing the cutoff that led to the cabin where Becky and Montgomery Jones were, but they didn't know it. Brian was cursing himself for killing Dean Beaumont too soon. He thought he would have gotten better directions if he had waited awhile longer before starting in on his eyes.

No matter, they'd find them, if they had to turn down every G.o.dd.a.m.ned road in the country. At least he was certain of one thing: they were close. He'd gotten that much out of Beaumont before he died. The cabin was nearby.

"I didn't do anything," Moses said.

Ted took the rifle from him. "Doubt you did," he said.

"Tell us about it," Larry said.

"I was up there in the woods, hunting, looking for one of my dogs," he waved a hand at the animals who were sniffing about nearby, "and I saw the flames. Came down here and found Pop like this."

"Those pumps might go," Larry said in an offhand way.

"Is he dead?" Ted asked Moses.

"He moved his finger when I said his name."

Larry went over to Pop, squatted down in front of him. "Wheee, burnt to a cracker," he said.

"For heaven's sake," Ted said. "Shut up, will you?"

"Say, just take a look at him."

A dog came over to sniff at Pop. Larry slapped him with the back of his hand. The dog yelped once and slunk off.

Ted knelt down by the man-thing's charred head, asked, "Can you hear me?"

One finger lifted, tapped the drive.

"We're going to move you. Too close to the pumps. Got me?"

The finger lifted again, fell.

"Larry, get his feet." Ted swung Moses' rifle onto his shoulder.

"Move him, he'll come apart," Larry said.

"Don't move him, and he gets blown apart maybe. Us too."

Larry took hold of Pop's feet. He could feel the heat through the charred shoes, socks and flesh. A bit of all three came loose and stuck greasily to his hands.

They carried him off the drive and out into the dirt. They were about a hundred feet from the pumps now. Nothing great, but better.

Moses came over to stand by them, said, "G.o.d, Jesus, G.o.d."

Ted and Larry picked the fragments of cloth and flesh from their hands.

"s.h.i.+t stinks," Larry said.

Ted looked at him and shook his head.

Ted knelt at Pop's head. "We're going to pull the car around here and load you in. I wanted you away from the pumps so we could take our time getting you comfortable. I feel a bit safer out here. I think we better haul you to the doctor, on account of... Well, you're pretty bad off and an ambulance would have to get here first-"

The old man tried to speak. It was a harsh, painful sound.

"Just take it easy," Ted said.

"Kids," Pop said.

"What's that?"

"Kids," Pop managed again.

"Listen, just take it easy, I'm going to bring the car around."

Ted went to the car. Larry squatted down, bent, looked into the black, ruined face.

"Who did it, n.i.g.g.e.r kids?"

Pop moved his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Try again," Larry said.

"Black Chevy," Pop said quickly, harshly.

"Kids in a black Chevy?"

Pop tapped his finger in the dirt.

"All right, got you."

The finger tapped in the dirt again.

"What is it?"

"Trying to kill . . . couple." The words were coming harder now, were more difficult to understand.

"The kids?"

The finger tapped.

"Got you."

"Beaumont. . . cabin," Pop said, and the words were like rasps on cold steel.

"What's that?"

"The Beaumonts, that's what he means," Moses said. "I've met them a few times."

"How's that?"

"Lake cabin, they've got one. That's what he's talking about."

"You know where this cabin is?" Moses nodded.

Ted drove the car around, got out. "Look here," Larry said to Ted, "this guy said some more stuff."

"And?" Ted said.

"About some kids, and a cabin. How they're going to try and kill a couple there, something like that. I couldn't hear him too good." "Maybe he's delirious." "I don't think so."

Larry, who had stood while talking to Ted, squatted back down. "Hey," he said to Pop.

"Hey, you still with us?" No movement.

Larry reached over, touched the burned flesh around the neck, felt for a pulse.

There was none. "Cashed in," Larry said, and stood up.

"With those burns, it was probably best," Ted said.

"G.o.d, Jesus, G.o.d," Moses said.

"This guy," Larry said, "Nimrod the hunter. Says he knows where this Beaumont cabin is."

"Beaumont cabin?" Ted asked.

"That's what the guy said. Something about the Beaumont cabin. He says," he pointed at Moses, "he knows where it is."

"That right?" Ted asked.

Moses nodded.

"Get in the car," Larry said to Moses, "we're going after them."

"We can't do that," Ted said, "he's a citizen."

"I am," Moses said. "Always have been a citizen."

"You want the guys that done this or not?" Larry asked.

"Sure . . . We can just get directions from . . . What's your name again?"

"Moses."

"Uh-uh," Larry said. "I want to be sure I get there. We'll let Moses out before we get there."

"I don't like it," Ted said.

"Me either," Moses said.

"Look at this poor f.u.c.ker," Larry said, pointing at Pop. "We can't just let kids get away with french frying folks."

"Suddenly you're sentimental, Larry."

"We're the good guys, they're the bad guys. I say we blow their black hats to h.e.l.l."

Ted looked at the burning building, the flames had licked the wooden flesh from its wooden bones. He looked down at the charcoaled mess that had been a man.

"All right," Ted said to Moses. "Get in the car, and take that stupid light helmet off."

"I don't like this," Moses said. "What about my dogs?"

"To h.e.l.l with your dogs. Get in the f.u.c.king car," Larry said. Then looking at Ted: "Why don't you give him his rifle back, for insurance."

Ted nodded wearily, handed it to Moses.

Ted opened the back door. Moses climbed in, tossed the light helmet in the seat and put the rifle across his knees. Ted closed the door.

"You get to take credit for this, anything happens," Ted said.

"Gladly. Come on, I'm driving. You call in the fire department and a meat wagon...There's still the pumps that might go."