The Running Girls(74)

“I’m sorry this has happened to you,” said Randall.

His son recoiled at this, a look of indecision crossing his face in the gloom of the rickety house. “It’s a bit late for that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I sort of understand why you killed Annie, but why the others? Why that girl, why Maurice?” said Randall, trying to capitalize on the flash of doubt he’d seen.

“I don’t think you understand anything, old man, but let’s get you out of here. I don’t think this place is going to last much longer.”

“What about Sadie?” said Randall, as the man unlocked the chain holding him in place.

“She always loved the view from here,” said his son, a faraway look in his eyes.

Randall took one final look at Sadie’s corpse, which was facing the wall where he’d been held captive, before he was all but dragged outside into the water. He stumbled and fell headfirst into the murkiness. As his lungs began to fill, he wondered if this was it, before he was dragged back up, hacking and puking filthy saltwater.

Once he’d recovered enough to focus on it, the noise was like nothing he’d ever experienced, as if hundreds of storms were occurring all at once. If it wasn’t for the man’s hands on his shoulders, he was sure the hurricane would have swept him up from the water and consumed him.

It was hard to make out in the gloom, but strange foreign objects appeared to be floating in the water. The man pushed them on through the warm, swirling water regardless, as if impervious to the dangers that surrounded them on all sides.

“Where are you taking me?” said Randall, but the noise was such that even he couldn’t hear the words leave his mouth.

The man—his son—placed his arm across his chest, blocking his path, as an immense object fewer than twenty yards from them cruised past. Randall blinked and saw it was a house, almost fully intact, making a slow procession toward the Gulf of Mexico.

The man placed his mouth to Randall’s ear. “There’s a sight,” he said in what sounded like genuine wonder as the house rolled onward. Then a chuckle escaped him. “Yessir, some days you just feel lucky to be alive, eh, Dad?”

Despite the howl of the storm, it seemed to Randall that it must have begun to abate. The gales were strong, but he doubted they were currently strong enough to do such damage to a house, a position supported by the fact that they were both still alive. Had the worst come and gone? He couldn’t tell for sure, but it was possible he’d fallen asleep at one stage. Certainly, the water hadn’t been this high when he’d arrived.

The man pushed him onward until at some point they reached dry land. “I’m not sure I can go on much longer,” said Randall, collapsing to the ground in the shelter of some damaged cedar elms.

A look of pity formed on the man’s face. “We can rest here. I need to see where she goes when she arrives,” he said, offering Randall a flask of what turned out to be water. “I wish it wasn’t like this,” he added, as Randall drank.

“Did Maurice know?” asked Randall.

“About me? No.”

“Did you have to kill him?”

“He wanted to die. I know you do, too.”

That much was true. “So why not do it?”

“That time will come,” said the man, hoisting him up onto his feet.

“Let that time be now.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I need her to come first, and then I will have taken everything—well, nearly everything—from him.”

Randall stared hard at the man. “What are you talking about? Who will you have taken everything from?”

The man smiled. “My brother, of course.”





Chapter Forty-Four


The last few days must have taken a greater toll on Laurie than she’d realized. She’d slept for the duration of the second half of the hurricane, only stirring now and then to adjust her position next to David. She’d woken at dawn, to find David and Warren gone, and joined many of the others outside as Heather had dissipated to see what further damage the hurricane had wrought. The wind was still up, but even a gale force wind felt tame in relation to what had come before. The water had retreated but was still a good couple of feet high, its murky surface skin alive with bugs. The air around them was ripe with sourness.

People congregated outside the shelter, some lining up for emergency rations, others for medical attention. Despite her weariness, Laurie was ready to help with the rescue operations when they began. But first she needed to locate Frank Randall. She thanked the young volunteer handing out water and took three bottles, drinking down one in a single series of gulps before heading back to the main hall to find David and Warren.

Warren had returned to their little area in the corner of the hall, and she bent down into a sitting position and handed him a bottle of water. He looked confused as he sipped, the liquid trickling down the fine points of the gray stubble on his chin.

“I don’t want to argue, Warren,” she said as he took another sip. “I just need you to tell me about Sadie Cornish.”

Warren closed his eyes for the length of one breath, then glanced around the hall, as if he didn’t want to be overheard. “I’ve told you all I know. She left town after high school. Her family used to live over on Bolivar, but they moved to Corpus Christi after Sadie graduated from high school.”