Dastardly Bastard(54)

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t take it. His chest hurt. Something in there was breaking all over again.

Warmth poured over him, calming his trembling body. He imagined Sunne covering him with a blanket, caressing his cheek, whispering that everything was going to be all right. She wasn’t gone, not as long as he remembered. The memories should remain. They were all he had left of her. He could rebuild her image with that, whenever he wanted. The bad could be defeated by the good. It was a basic hope. No matter what evils were present in the world, the good should always outweigh the bad.

He had to believe. If not for him, then for Sunne. She deserved to be a good memory.

When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting on the floor of a bedroom. Tubby—no, the man’s name was Mark—stood in the doorway, looking down at him and smiling.

“You all right, Donald?”

“I am now.”

“You ready to find this son of a bitch and get out of here?”

“What about the monster outside?” Donald realized at that moment that he’d defeated a monster of his own, the one inside himself.

“That thing?” Mark waved his hand casually. “Some friends of mine handled it.”

Donald couldn’t help but laugh. “Good ones?”

“Yeah. They’re a lot stronger than I thought.”

Donald pushed himself up off the floor and dusted off his shirt. “Enough of the mushy shit. You ready to end this?”

Mark smiled until the corners of his cheeks all but covered his eyes. “You’re damn skippy!”





THE LIAR’S LAIR





40


JUSTINE KNEW SHE WAS THE key. If she had never gone to that damn chasm, none of the recent events would have happened. The Bastard needed her. Whether Scott’s power was wearing thin, or it just needed her to reach further out into the world, she didn’t know.

Time was seeping in. The great room was starting to crumble like the rest of the house.

“We have to get out of here.” She grabbed Scott’s hand. It was scalding hot. She screamed, tearing her hand away. Her palm was left smoking.

“He won’t let me leave here. I have my memories, my safe places, and a part of me doesn’t want to leave, either.”

“You can’t just stay here,” Lyle blurted. “He’s using you.”

“My time is gone out there. I have nothing to go back to. I’m afraid you have been left behind, as well.” Scott went to the fireplace and stoked the embers. Flame crawled the length of the poker and slithered up his arm, covering his shoulder and head.

Justine wanted to react, but couldn’t. Lyle was trying, but she felt herself holding him back. It had to happen. Everything would repeat, and Scott would be born from the ashes of himself again and again like a phoenix. As they turned and left, Scott was swallowed whole by the fire.

The house fell. They were protected by an unseen force while boards and plaster crashed around them, turning to dust. When they hit the sidewalk outside, Justine turned and watched as the house began construction again. Invisible hands erected the wooden frame, while others toiled away at covering them. Lyle’s palm was slick in her own, hot, and she finally released it. They looked at each other, silent. Justine chanced a glance back to the house, unsure what to expect, and saw Scott standing in the unfinished doorway once again, waving them inside.

“In here!” he called.

“There’s no way to save him?” Lyle’s voice was filled with broken emotion.

Justine shook her head, wiping a tear from her eye before it could fall.

Back the way they’d run from the monster made of their fallen friends and family, Donald and Mark came out of a house. Justine wondered why they looked so damn happy. Their apparent joy angered her briefly. Then, she realized the two had no way of knowing what she’d just seen, the revelations Scott had provided. In turn, Justine had no idea what they had been through, either.

The monster was gone. How they had beaten it, if they had beaten it, was a mystery. All that remained was the path the thing had taken. Cracks in the pavement showed clearly like a trail of breadcrumbs.

Donald grinned as he strolled up to her and Lyle. “We gotta quit meeting like this.”

“Where to now?” Mark asked, stuffing his wide hands into his pants pockets.

“We backtrack,” Justine said. “Maybe it will lead us somewhere.”

She half-expected Donald to say something like, “Yeah, to our deaths,” or “Are you crazy?” but he didn’t. He acquiesced with a single nod of his head. A light shone in his eyes, a bright quality that hadn’t been there before. The sight warmed her a little.

“Onward, wayward soldier.” Mark hitched up his pants.

Justine was reminded of Trevor and how he could never get his own pants to stay where he put them. She twirled the ring on her finger and said a silent “I love you.”

Nothing was chasing them, so a stroll seemed to be in order. Justine had no way of telling how much time had actually passed, but she was sure of one thing. She was damn tired. Her bones ached, and her legs burned. She just hoped that she would have the strength to deal with the Bastard when they finally caught up with him.

“We’re going to find your man, Justine,” Donald said out of the blue. Nothing had spurred it. She’d only been walking, keeping her thoughts to herself.