“Yeah, baby!” Johnny yelled.
Bell felt himself swinging through space, the sound of the loud rock music from the bar in his ears, his face wet with beer. He knew he was going to die. He closed his eyes. I can’t take much more, he thought. He felt, for the first time in his life, he would beg. He was only a moment from losing his nerve. His threatening Ryder had been a show of bravado, nothing more.
The music switched to Heavy D’s “Now That We Found Love”:
Now that we found love what are we goin’ to do
With it?
Shake me, Shake me … Baby, Baby, bake me ...
* * *
Lacy had run down the narrow, well-lit hotel road. She was crying and didn’t know why she’d agreed to leave Bell. That had been the deal Bell had struck with the crazy Johnny. He’d agreed to let her go in exchange for the ten thousand dollars cash that she and Bell had collected from dozens of dead bodies. Bell had insisted she be allowed to leave the hotel in the limousine, the only car left with most of its windows intact.
The couple’s quest for cash money had been a horrible ordeal that had lasted several hours. A dozen or more Howlers had been randomly wandering the upper floors of the hotel. Bell had been able to kill them, always making sure Lacy was safe and hidden in the elevator. They’d not spoken a word since their strange, passionate encounter in the hotel’s kitchen. They had held each other close without speaking, as if they were the last two people left alive in the whole world.
At each floor Bell had Lacy wait inside the elevator, the loud sound of shotgun blasts coming from outside the elevator. He’d told her, stepping out into the hallway, shotgun in hand, to hit the close button and then use the emergency shut-off until he got back and pounded on the elevator doors, signaling her to open them. She would switch the elevator back on, the doors would open and Bell would throw wallets and purses into the elevator at her feet, adding to their horrible booty.
On the sixth floor he stepped into the elevator with his face blood-splattered, a deep scratch on his neck. He emptied his pocket and two shotgun shells fell onto the elevator floor. Bell’s hands were shaking.
“Only two shells left. Count the money,” Bell told her. He closed the elevator doors and hit the emergency shut-off button. Then he’d sagged to his knees and watched her empty wallets and purses he’d collected and begin to count the money.
“You’re hurt,” Lacy had said.
“You should see the other guy,” Bell had said. She could see he was exhausted, and that whatever he’d done out in the hallways and in rooms—four floors’ worth—had left its mark. His expression had turned vacant, his hands shaking involuntarily. His already filthy green-nylon flight suit was spotted with Howler blood.
“Let me help you,” she said. He shook his head no. “Why not?”
“I promised your father. How much have we got?”
She’d finished emptying the last wallet and counted the cash. “Nine hundred and thirty-three dollars from this floor. We’ve got eight thousand forty-two, all together.”
Bell closed his eyes, the shotgun between his knees. His back was against the elevator’s silver doors.
“Not enough,” Bell said. “We’re short. He said ten thousand.”
“I’ll call my father. He’ll come. Let’s just go up to the roof.”
“Maybe he’ll come. If he’s still alive,” Bell said. “We don’t know if anyone will come. Can come.”
“Don’t say that,” Lacy said.
Bell looked at her. “There’s one more floor. That might be enough,” he said.
“Well, at least go down and get some more ammunition,” she said.
“There is no more. He only had one box for the shotgun.” Bell reached up and turned the elevator on. They both felt the motor start up, the gears clutch; it began its climb up to the hotel’s top floor. Bell stood up and loaded the shotgun with his last two shells.
“What if there’s too many of them?” Lacy said.
“Then take the damn money you’ve got there and ask for the limousine. I saw it had the key in it. It’s a heavy car; you might be able to make it in that. No matter what happens on the road, don’t stop. It’s got a full tank of gas, I checked,” Bell said.
The elevator door opened on the top floor. Bell stepped out and walked down the well-lit corridor. It looked so normal, Lacy thought. She reached her hand up and hit the elevator’s emergency off-button and tried her phone. It finally had a signal.
* * *
Miles slammed on the brakes. He recognized the figure in front of him. Patty had been yelling at him to hit the girl, but at the last minute Miles recognized Lacy Collier and couldn’t bring himself to run her down. He’d come within inches of killing her. She collapsed in a heap on the road, in front of the Cadillac.
“It’s Lacy Collier!” Miles said.
“We don’t know if she’s one of them,” Marvin said.
Miles turned to look at the doctor. Dr. Poole wasn’t smiling. He’d changed in the last twenty-four hours. His eyes looked cold and mean, aggressive.
“I’m going out there,” Miles said. He’d known Lacy Collier all his life and he wasn’t going to leave her out there.
“It’s his daughter? Quentin’s?” Patty asked, not having seen her clearly.
“Yes,” Miles said. He got out of the car before they could stop him. He walked to the front of the Cadillac and looked down at Lacy on her hands and knees in the snow.
“God, help me,” Lacy said. She was sobbing. She was looking down at the asphalt. She’d watched the car approach, and not knowing what else to do, she’d taken a chance and stepped out into the middle of the pitch-dark road and begun to wave her hands, knowing that, whoever was coming, they might decide simply to hit her and keep going. It had taken every bit of courage to keep waving and screaming as the headlights approached, the car bearing down on her, seemingly not going to stop.
“Lacy? Is that you?” Miles said.
“Miles?” Lacy exhausted from her run from the hotel looked up at Hunt. “Miles, thank God.” She stood up with his help. “You’ve got to help me, Miles. Please.”
“Get in the car!” Miles walked her back toward the rear of the Cadillac and helped her into the back seat, closing the door behind her. In the distance he could see headlights and red-blue flashing police lights coming down the road toward them.
“Thank God,” Miles said, watching the lights turn down the hotel’s driveway and come toward them.
“Your dad is hurt,” Rebecca said. “He was unconscious when I left.”
“Is he alone?” Lacy asked.
“No. There are people with him. Two guys.”
“Your dad?” Lacy asked.
“No. Somebody else. My dad—he didn’t make it,” Rebecca said.
“I’m sorry,” Lacy said. “I want to go to my father.”
They were all standing outside the cars near the hotel’s gated entrance. They’d all heard Lacy’s strange story about the two maniacs down the road. They’d also heard more howling in the woods. An old sixties-style motel was on fire up the highway nearby, its log cabins mostly burnt to the ground. The acrid smoke from the fire passed over their heads.