“Look at this!” Sandy said, and Smith saw that he was literally shaking with rage. “Look at it!”
“What is it?” Maggie asked over Smith’s shoulder.
Sandy turned, and his mouth opened, then snapped shut; he was too furious to speak. He thrust the bundle at Smith.
Smith accepted it reluctantly. The instant his fingers touched it he realized it wasn’t cloth, gauzy or otherwise. He stared down in horror at what he held.
Maggie, looking around his shoulder, went white.
“I don’t understand,” Annie said. “What it it?”
“It’s Mary,” Sandy said.
“We went to that place,” Khalil said, “In the woods. And we found this there. It is all that is left of her. We found this, and her clothes, and the wooden stake, and some blood, and pieces of bone, all lying in the dirt. Nothing else.”
With unsteady hands, Smith unfolded a little of the bundle, and a thick hank of blonde hair tumbled free.
“I don’t understand,” Annie repeated. “What is that you have there, Mr. Smith?”
“It’s skin,” Smith forced out.
“It’s Mary’s skin,” Sandy bellowed, “Mary’s skin that that thing was wearing like long underwear, and when it got Elias instead it just crawled out and left it lying there, where we found it!”
Smith had not been prepared for the shock of having the entirety of a woman’s mortal remains thrust into his hands without warning, so most of his mind was blank.
Somewhere, though, far in the back, a little trace of logical thought lurked.
This would be the evidence needed to convince even the most skeptical cop that something out of the ordinary was going on here. Even the most determined psychopath could not have removed a woman’s whole skin so neatly or completely.
Could he?
That little bit of him tried to push its way up through the layers of shock and fatigue, to tell the others, to let them know that this could save them all, but then Maggie burst out wailing and fled to the far corner of the kitchen, and he stepped aside to let a concerned Annie hurry past him on her way to comfort the terrified girl, and then Sandy was taking the skin back and saying, “We’re going to burn them. It was Khalil’s idea; aren’t evil spirits all afraid of fire? We’re going to burn all those bastards!”
Smith tried to think of something intelligent to say, but his thoughts refused to cohere. One fragment managed to surface for an instant.
“Elias,” he said.
“Yeah,” Sandy said, “It’s dressed up as Elias now, but it must be living in Mary’s apartment, right? I mean, it…”
Smith shook his head. “No,” he said, “Elias came home last night, Maggie said.”
Sandy stared at him. “What?”
“Elias came home. And Maggie thinks they got his parents, that the one in Elias’s skin let in a couple more.”
Sandy and Khalil looked at one another.
“If,” Smith managed, his thoughts moving again, sluggishly, “If we tried to burn down the apartments, we couldn’t get them all. It’s too big, too many of them. And those three aren’t there.”
“We wouldn’t get the one that got Mary,” Sandy agreed.
“And we don’t know,” Smith said, “that fire will stop them. Not really.” The image of a hundred nightmare creatures swarming out of the burning Bedford Mills complex, like wasps from a broken nest, came to him. “And the cops…” He lost the thread of what he wanted to say.
“All right,” Sandy said, “Then we burn the house first, a trial run – burn the three of them, or however many are in there. Get the one who got Mary and Elias.”
Khalil nodded.
Annie McGowan, with Maggie in an encircling arm, came up to the kitchen door just then.
“Burn the house?” she said. “But that’s arson, it’s destruction of property!”
“Oh, fuckin’ Christ,” Sandy said, turning away in disgust and slapping a hand against the wall.
Smith blinked. “Ms. McGowan,” he said, “These things are murderers, remember. They’ve killed the people who owned that house. And shooting and stabbing them doesn’t bother them, but fire just might.”
“Oh, I know,” Annie said, flustered. “I mean, I see you’re right, really. I do. The police weren’t any use, and we have to do something. I wish there were another way, though.”
“There might be one,” Smith said, “But we don’t know what it is.”
Maggie sniffled. “When are you going to do it?” she asked.
Sandy turned back. “Tonight,” he said. “Soon as it’s dark, right? Before they know we’re onto them!”
Smith blinked, wishing he could think more clearly, that he were steadier on his feet. “Tonight?”
“Sure!” Sandy said enthusiastically. “The sooner the better! Lady, do you have any gasoline here? For your lawnmower or anything?”
“Not gasoline,” Annie said slowly, “But I have a can of lighter fluid, and a little kerosene.”
“That’ll do fine!” He smiled, showing more teeth than Smith liked to see. “You gonna come along yourself and bring it?”
“Oh, no!” she said, “I’m too old for this sort of thing. Mr. Niklasen, Mr. Smith, all of you, I’m in no shape to fight these things – I’ll help you plan, and you’re welcome to stay here, or meet here, but don’t expect me to come with you!”
“No problem,” Sandy said, “That’s plenty. With this house to use as a base we’re all set. We’ll do the rest. You and Maggie can stay here.”
“Oh, no,” Maggie said, her voice suddenly strong and firm again. “I’m coming with you. I want to see those things die!”
Smith stared at her. Sandy grinned.
“Fine,” Sandy said. “Ever set any fires?”
8.
None of them had any experience in setting fires.
Most particularly, none of them had ever tried to set a fire where no one was supposed to get out. Starting the fire itself seemed simple enough, given the kerosene and lighter fluid and Sandy’s cigarette lighter, but figuring out how to keep the nightmare people inside until they burned was another matter entirely.
“In the movies,” Maggie pointed out, “when the bad guys are trying to burn somebody up, they always tie them to chairs.”
Smith began, “After what happened to Elias…”
Sandy cut him off. “I’m not trusting any goddamn movie,” he growled.
“If we just burn down the house, though, they’ll just get out, and we won’t get anywhere,” Maggie said. “We need to make sure they stay inside until they burn.”
“We do not really need to burn the house at all,” Khalil pointed out, from his straight-backed chair in the corner. “It is not the house we want destroyed, it is the things inside.”
Sandy stared silently at Khalil for a moment, then smiled tightly and nodded his understanding.
“Well, how are we going to burn them up, except by burning up the house?” Maggie demanded. “What are we going to do, walk up to them and hold a match to their toes?”
“Close,” Sandy said, “Very close. Maggie, how well did you know Elias’s folks? Well enough that they’d let you in the house?”
She shrugged. “Well, yeah, I guess so; I’ve been inside there a few times. What are… oh, wait a minute. I mean, this is like…” Her voice trailed off as she found all three men staring at her.
It was clear what Sandy had in mind, and Smith wondered whether Maggie was up to it. Sandy wanted her to play decoy, to get the door open so that they all could get inside – but once inside, it would be the three of them – four, counting Maggie – against three nightmare people.
Those were not favorable odds. Not against creatures that shrugged off bullets, that could pull themselves up off impaling stakes.
He wondered if he were up to it himself.
He wondered if any of them were up to it.
Chapter Eight:
Monday Night
1.
The grass sighed softly against the sides of Smith’s sneakers as he moved into hiding. The sound of his own breath was loud in his ears, and gurgling of the can of lighter fluid in one unsteady hand seemed like waves crashing in the cool August night. He knelt down behind a rhododendron and found himself in a patch of mud; the day had been overcast and unseasonably cool, and traces of the morning rain still lingered in the sheltered area between the bush and the wall of the house. It was damp, but it was out of sight; he stayed. He wiped a forearm across his face to remove the sudden moisture, then waved to Maggie with his crowbar, signalling that he was ready. She stood out on the sidealk, under a streetlight, looking very small and vulnerable and scared.