Thicker Than Blood - Crouch Blake (лучшие книги онлайн TXT) 📗

The newlyweds’ eyes had glazed and they lie motionless when Andy rolled them over onto their backs and discharged into each of them another load of buckshot.

The reports died away across the tidal flat, and there was no sound other than their shirtsleeves flapping in the sea breeze.

# # #

I dropped the shotgun and looked over at Vi. She wasn’t crying. Instead, a sardonic smile spread her wind-burnt cheeks. She tilted back her head and let loose a hideous bellow.

"He’s right, Andy. Rufus is right. That," she pointed toward the slaughter, "is fucking meaningless! Isn’t it? Is that a fucking illusion?"

She sat down in the sand, laid her head on her knees, and wept.

"Vi," I said. "Vi, look at me." She refused. "You saved your son’s life. That’s all you did."

"And I took his."

"Yeah, and what was the alternative?"

"There was none."

"Ex—"

"That’s what’s so fucking wrong with this. There isn’t any alternative."

She stood up, wiped her swollen eyes.

"I protected mine," she said. "That’s all I did today."

"What else can you do?"

"I don’t know. Here come the monsters."

Rufus and Luther strolled toward us across the flat.

Vi picked up the gun, said, "Toss me two shells."

"You wanna get shot?"

Her eyes burning, she took the shotgun by the barrel and slung it. Then she came over, stood beside me.

"Tell Rufus what he wants to hear," I said, watching the old man and his son approach.

"What do you mean?"

"That value-breaking, good and evil bullshit."

"How are you so calm?" she asked.

"I just don’t feel anything."

She cried out suddenly, "Oh God!" and sank down on her knees into the sand.

# # #

The living carried the dead across the tidal flat. Thirty miles west, over the mainland, the sound country of North Carolina, thunderheads were assembling. Heat radiated off the sun-baked flat, thick and wet, updrafts from hell. When it rained here, the ground would steam, but that stormy relief was hours away if it came at all.

The smallest of the living fell and the body she bore crushed down on her. She screamed. There was hearty laughter. Then, lifting the body off of her, they all moved on again.

# # #

Vi and I sat across from one another as the boat traversed the inlet, the island of Ocracoke growing wider and more distinct, Portsmouth fading into a blurred-green suggestion of land in our wake.

The young couple lie sprawled across the deck at our feet, their skin beginning to assume a plastic, yellow pallor. Rufus had wrapped their torsos in gauze so they wouldn’t bleed on his boat.

Luther occupied the cockpit, his father beside him. They’d been conversing in whispers since leaving Portsmouth, and Rufus seemed to be growing increasingly agitated while Luther just piloted the boat and stared implacably into the distance.

As we neared the House of Kite, Rufus stepped back from his son and spoke so loudly we could hear him over the motor: "You should’ve sat in Horace’s lap when you burned him."

Then Rufus came over and took a seat beside Vi. It was the first time I’d ever seen him angry, though perhaps it wasn’t anger so much as fierce disappointment, the kind only a father can feel for his son.

# # #

We carried them through the back door into the house. Maxine toted little Max in an over-the-shoulder-baby-holder, and she smiled warmly at Vi as she held open the door to the basement.

Rufus and I reached the bottom first. We dropped Steve on the dirt floor and leaned against the cold stone to catch our breath.

Luther and Vi, following behind us, foundered halfway down the steps. Vi had nothing more to give, and she let the young woman’s head slide off her shoulder. The corpse tumbled down the staircase and would’ve knocked Rufus off his feet had the old man not stepped out of the way just in time.

Vi fell back on the steps, head against the wall, taking in large gulps of air.

When she could speak again, she called out, "I want my son!"

"Hold onto your horses just one minute there, young lady," Rufus said, bent over, utterly spent, palms on his knees, forehead slick with sweat. "You’re going to finish this."

"What are you talking about?"

"The ancient fuck means you still have to store them," Luther said.

# # #

Luther and I dragged the bodies behind the staircase, following Rufus into the labyrinth of lightless rooms and passageways. The old man wielded a lantern out in front of him, and I tried to keep track of our trajectory, but it proved impossible. The basement was quite a bit more extensive than I’d first thought, so much so that it seemed to extend beyond the dimensions of the house.

We turned a multitude of corners, passed through various small rooms, one with a low ceiling and empty wine racks on either side of us, another with an old chair and the remnants of a bed frame. There lingered a certain foreboding, a dread attending these rooms and tunnels. You could feel it. Awful things had happened here.

I had no idea where we were when Rufus stopped suddenly and faced us.

He pointed down the corridor, toward a flimsy wooden door at the end.

"You and Violet take these youngfolk through that door. You’ll understand what to do."

Rufus handed me the lantern and took a flashlight out of his pocket. Then he and Luther left us, disappearing around the corner. We stood there, listening to their footsteps trail away, watching the lanternlight and shadows play haunting games on the crumbling walls.

I set the lantern on the floor, lifted the young man’s hands, and dragged him to the end of the passageway. Vi was shaking, mumbling to herself when I returned, so I took the dead woman’s colder hands and dragged her over to her husband.

Vi picked up the lantern, brought it over.

"It’s going to be all right after this, isn’t it?" she said. "We did what they wanted. They’ll give Max back to me."

"I hope so."

As I pushed open the door, Vi’s lantern winked out.

The darkness was total.

"Oh, come on."

We stumbled into the room.

"God, it smells in here," she said. "What is that?"

"Fix it," I said. "Turn the flame back up."

"I don’t know how."

I groped for Vi’s shoulder, found it, and ran my hand down the length of her arm.

"Give it to me," I said. "Vi, give it here, don’t you feel my hand? I’m touching your—"

"No you’re not."

I jerked my hand back as though I’d accidentally touched a glowing burner.

"You fucking around, Vi?"

"No."

I stepped back, tripped, and fell into someone.

They moved and I shrieked, "Who’s there?"

"Andy, what’s wrong?"

"Turn on the lantern!"

"I can’t!"

Crawling around in the dirt now, disoriented, my head bumped into someone’s kneecap. I scrambled away and struggled to my feet, frantic, arms outstretched before me like a blind man.

When my hands palmed a pair of shoulders, I reached up and felt the face.

Mush and bones.

The lantern illuminated the room.

We gasped in unison.

There were probably a dozen of them, hanging by chains from the ceiling, in various stages of decay, their feet just inches off the floor, so they appeared to stand of their own volition.

The ones I’d bumbled into were still swinging as I pushed my way through them back out into the passageway.