The Meridians(92)

But no. He managed to control himself. He gritted his teeth and again swung the chair as Tina's father once more attacked him. This time the knife managed to penetrate his defense, and he felt the blade sink an inch into his stomach. Luckily for Scott, it only punched into the thick pad of gristle and scar tissue that still remained from his gutshot by Mr. Gray eight years ago. The knife twisted in his stomach as it bounced off the rock hard tissue, and he screamed in pain as old nerves ignited in flame and agony for the first time in years. But even as he screamed, he could feel that the blade had done little damage. The scars he had earned on the day his family died had saved him.

Tina's father yanked the blade loose, and Scott screamed again as the blade left his body. But again, even in his agony he could tell that any damage was minor, though the pain remained frighteningly intense.

Scott reared back as Tina's father withdrew the knife, using the momentary pause in the man's attack to bring the chair around in a short arc that ended on the side of the other man's head. Even in his agony, he tried to avoid hitting the man's temple. The human skull is only a twelfth of an inch thick in that area, and he had no desire to end the battle by fracturing his attacker's skull and causing brain damage. He hoped to end this fight with incapacity, not maiming or death. He didn't want to face Tina as her father's killer.

His aim was true, and he felt another satisfying thud as the chair fetched up against the back of Tina's father's head. The man reeled, stunned for a moment, and Scott went on the offensive. He batted the chair again, this time aiming for the other man's knife hand in the hopes of breaking it and disarming him in one move. But the madman was too fast, twisting aside and moving his hand away at the last second, and the chair glanced off his hip. He howled in pain, but clearly was not more than inconvenienced by the hit.

Unfortunately, Scott was more than inconvenienced as the chair broke in his hands. Solid construction notwithstanding, there was only so much punishment that a child's chair could take before becoming nothing more than kindling. He was left holding a single long piece of wood with a shattered crosspiece attached to it. Still an effective enough club, but no longer nearly as useful as a shield or defensive weapon.

Scott pulled back at the same time as Tina's father again swiped the knife at him, but moved too slowly. The knife again slashed at his stomach, again ground against the scars of old wounds. Scott felt almost as though history was guiding the knife, trying to finish the job that Mr. Gray had begun, trying to reopen the wounds of the past and finish the job that had been started in the alley all those years ago.

Scott howled and struck with his makeshift club, but was far too slow. Tina's father danced out of range with a convulsive movement. The man giggled, a high-pitched, almost childlike sound that chilled Scott to the quick. It was far worse than the howling, animal sounds the man had been making until now, because it showed the depths of the man's insanity in a way that those noises had failed to do. Scott suddenly had the feeling that this battle could only end in the death of one or both of them.

Following his instincts, he punched out with his other hand, and the almost-forgotten knife he had been holding in that hand managed to penetrate Tina's father's own defenses, ripping a shallow furrow in the man's chest and grinding against his ribcage with a bounce that pulled the knife from Scott's hands.

The other man could have ended the fight then, could have stabbed Scott in the chest in a more fatal blow that would have resolved the struggle in his permanent favor. But rather than reply to Scott's blow with one of his own, he screamed again and threw himself against the nearby wall as he had been doing when Scott had entered the master bedroom. It was as though the man was punishing himself for killing his wife, for hogtieing his child.

Whatever the reason for the movement, it gave Scott precious seconds to move out of knife range, pulling back with the makeshift club in one hand.

And then, without warning, the other man did something completely unexpected.





***





44.

***

Lynette looked around for the source of the voice she had just heard. Mr. Gray was near, she knew. The voice had sounded like it was coming from in the car with them. But there was no one here but Kevin, who was once again typing furiously at his computer. Still, though he might have seemed unaffected to the untrained eye, she could tell he was terrified by the shaking of his hands and the fact that he was typing with his eyes screwed tightly shut.

"Little lady and her boy. Little bitch and her brat." Again, the voice seemed to come from somewhere in the car, from somewhere right beside her. She thought about running, but decided that running before she knew where the sound was coming from would be futile. What if she ran to it instead of away from it?

There was a rushing sound in her ears. She thought it was water at first, the sound like a stream scouring through a forest floor. Then she realized that it was the sound of blood rushing to her ears, the sound of her own pulse blasting powerfully through her mind. She realized what was happening: this was the same feeling she had had before, when the gray man appeared on the day Robbie died. And now she did run. She grabbed Kevin from off the seat and pulled him to her, then fumbled for the door handle. But before she could reach it, the locks engaged.

"Ah, ah, ah," said the voice. The voice of Mr. Gray. It was a whisper, sounding quietly, almost gently, in her ear.