City Dark(89)

“Leave us alone,” Joe said. His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere other than his body. The man wiped the collar away from his face and grunted. He was not tall but sturdily built and had hair like a clown: two dark patches above his ears and not much on top. His mouth was open, and a fat pink tongue swept around his lips. He spit blood to the side.

“Gimme that.”

“No. Let us go. I needed shorts, that’s all. We have money.”

“Gimme it, you little fuckin’—” He took a step forward. Joe grabbed the lower part of the gun and squeezed backward. The stock moved more easily than he expected. Clack-clack. The man stopped.

“You don’t even know how to fire that, you little shit.”

“I just saw you do it twice.” Joe could feel his heart thudding like a bass drum. The man fished more blood out of his mouth with the slimy, restless tongue and spat. Then there were noises from inside the store—a muffled crash and a tinkling of glass. The man gave Joe one more baleful look, then screamed something unintelligible and stomped back through the open door into the darkness. His voice echoed back and forth between the courtyard and the storeroom.

“Joe, let me have it,” Nate said softly. Joe hadn’t noticed that Nate had moved over to him. He hadn’t noticed anything, really. All he could see was the man’s face—the wild eyes, the lolling tongue. “Joe?” Joe let Nate take the gun. There was hot silence for a moment, the air still angry with the shotgun blast, the strange tunnel of light still emanating at ground level from the flashlight.

Then there was a scream from down the staircase, where Robbie had gone.

“Robbie!” Nate yelled, still holding the gun and darting that way. “Robbie!” He turned to Joe. “Grab the flashlight!” Joe’s heart was thudding again; it was a wonder that it didn’t just slam out of his chest. The scream came up again, and Joe’s blood curdled with it. It was Robbie, but it almost sounded like a girl’s scream.

Without words, Joe and Nate worked in concert, Joe knowing that he needed to hold the flashlight and shine it down the stairs while Nate went down. Nate bounded down holding the shotgun, but with the butt forward instead of the barrel. Between Nate’s body and the shadow it cast, Joe couldn’t see much. There were people down there, though, arms and legs shuffling and skittering on a hard surface. A face turned directly toward the light, and Joe almost dropped the flashlight. The lips were peeled back, exposing dark teeth. The face was covered in facial hair or dirt or both. The eyes were squinted shut. It turned, and the mouth opened.

“Fuck! Go!”

Joe heard a door swing and hit a wall. More skittering, shoes scraping on gravel. Nate had reached the bottom of the stairs. Joe tried moving the flashlight around, but Nate’s body and shadows were obscuring everything.

“Robbie!” Nate yelled. “Oh God, Robbie, are you—”

Another scream came up, echoing into the dank stairwell. Joe took a few steps down. Nate set the shotgun aside and knelt down. Now the flashlight found Robbie. He was on his side, curled up and covering his head with one hand. His clothes were on, but he was clutching his shorts with the other hand, like someone was trying to pull them down. Joe almost clicked the light off. He moved it over to a corner so as not to shine it right on Robbie.

“Robbie, can you move?” Nate asked. “Let’s get you up, come on.” Robbie wouldn’t budge, though. He stayed balled up, not moving except for his hands, clenched in tight fists. They were shaking. “Joe, come down here, please.” Nate had found Lois’s lighter and was staring into the open doorway at the bottom of the stairs. It was the doorway those two people had disappeared into, one of them with the horrible face.

“Is he okay?” Joe asked.

“I think so,” Nate said, but his voice sounded terribly pained. “Wait here.” He hefted the shotgun, again with the butt in front, and walked through the door with the lighter on. Joe knelt beside Robbie who still wasn’t moving except for the terrible, shaking fists. The flashlight felt like an accuser, a glowing wand exposing Robbie somehow, but he didn’t want to turn it off. After a few seconds Nate was back.

“There’s a basement through there. It’s a storage area for a deli or a restaurant. There’s a ladder leading up to the street. Let’s get him up.”

“But . . . those guys,” Joe said.

“They’re gone,” Nate said. “It’s okay; we can go out this way.” Robbie screamed again. “Robbie, please, let’s get you out of here. Can you hear me?” Robbie made a gurgling sound. Nate turned to Joe. “Shine the light in there.”

Joe did as he was told. The area beyond the door was a small pantry-like place with big cans on shelves and a few huge plastic barrels. Joe could hear squeaking noises and scurrying in the corners. Rats, oh God. Joe let out a tortured little moan. He moved the beam around the room. There was a tiny puddle of light coming from above. Below it was a wide, slanted wood contraption that looked like something between stairs and a ladder. Above it and standing open to the air were two big steel doors that folded together and locked. They were the kind that sagged under your feet if you walked over them on a city sidewalk.

“Robbie,” Nate said, “can you hear me?”

“Why isn’t he talking?” Joe asked. “He’s like . . . frozen.”