The Night Parade(80)

She came in and he closed and locked the door.

“What is it?”

“Cops,” he said.

Through the window, he watched as the officer in the sunglasses said something into the radio he had clipped to his shoulder. Then both of them crossed onto the sidewalk toward the sandwich shop.

“We have to get out of here now,” he said. He flipped the latch on the window, then pried it open. Flies tickled the tops of his hands. “Come here,” he said, grabbing her beneath her armpits. She clutched the shoe box to her chest. “It’s a bit of a drop but not too far.”

“I don’t think—”

“No time. Go.”

He lifted her out and helped her over the sill. She landed on her feet outside in a cloud of rising dust. Then David scrambled out after her.

There was only one place to go: the alleyway that ran behind the stores. He snatched up Ellie’s wrist and dragged her as he ran. The alleyway zagged twice, sharp right turns that, he feared, would empty back out onto the main road and into the path of more police. But he must have gotten turned around, because when they burst out of the alley they were facing a wooded embankment and, beyond, a sea of cornstalks.

“Come on.” He urged her forward.

Halfway across the embankment was a chain-link fence; David slammed into it before he actually saw it. It wasn’t too high. He hoisted Ellie over then he scaled it. The chains rattled.

Only when they reached the corn did he risk a look over his shoulder. He could see no one coming after them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t seconds behind. Just then he heard the sound of a siren.

“Daddy!” Ellie cried.

“It’s okay, baby. Come on.”

They ran through the corn.





41


By the time they came through the corn and saw the farmhouse, David was carrying his daughter. There were bits of farming equipment scattered about the lawn here. The house itself looked deserted, and there were even a few boards nailed across some of the windows. A set of rickety wooden stairs led up to a door, the upper half of which was made of glass. A red X had been spray-painted from corner to corner.

David carried Ellie up the stairs, then set her down beside him. Without pausing to consider a better option, he elbowed the single-paned window. The glass didn’t completely shatter, but he did manage to knock a rectangular section out of the way. He reached inside, fumbled for the lock, praying it was the type of dead bolt that had a knob and wouldn’t require a key.

His hand found the dead bolt.

There was no knob.

He took a step back, figuring he could knock the rest of the glass out and climb in through the window and— Ellie reached out and twisted the doorknob. The door creaked open.

“Stick to me like glue,” he said, slipping inside.

The air was rancid. David wondered how long the place had been unoccupied. Shafts of daylight slid in between the boards fitted over the windows, cutting through the dimness of an outdated kitchen with cornflower wallpaper and a wall clock that had seized up at 2:18. Dust clung to every available surface, making the light bulbs in the chandelier above the kitchen table look like large gray Q-tips. Tiny footprints—rats?—had been stamped into the dust covering the countertops.

“Where are the people who live here?” Ellie whispered against his ribs.

“They’re gone.”

“What happened to them?”

“Anything.”

“What?”

“Anything could have happened.”

Along the opposite wall hung a chalkboard on which someone had kept a running grocery list. Next to the board was a wooden plaque affixed with a series of hooks. Depicted on the plaque was a cartoon pig with its hands—or hooves—on its hips. The caption above its head read DON’T HOG THE KEYS! Dangling from one of the hooks was a set of keys.

He snatched them up, saw that one was a car key with the Chevrolet emblem on it.

“You doing okay?” he said, grabbing hold of Ellie’s hand. He led her out of the kitchen and down a narrow, gloomy hallway toward the front of the house.

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

The front rooms were empty. Even the furniture had been removed, if there had ever been any furniture to begin with. Flies and gnats and large flying beetles crisscrossed in front of his face. David went to the front windows and saw a bright red Monte Carlo in the driveway. It was then that he considered his options—take the car and get the hell out of there, or hunker down in this abandoned farmhouse until the coast was clear. Both options had their benefits and flaws, their wins and losses. Yet in the end he decided it was easier to find a hiding man than a running man.

Ellie cried out.

“What?”

“There. There.”

It was a dining room with a large oak table at the room’s center, set with what looked like good china for several people. But the meal would never come. David counted six bodies of varying sizes hanging from ropes tied to the exposed ceiling rafters. The smallest one looked like that of a child maybe no older than four or five. The air was black with flies, and the smell, which struck David instantaneously, was as thick and meaty as an abattoir’s—so much so that both he and Ellie began to gag.

David cradled Ellie’s head against his chest. He tried the front doorknob, found this one was locked, then fumbled through the key ring for the house key. He jabbed two different keys into the lock before finding the correct one. It turned, and David shoved open the door and dragged Ellie out onto the porch.