Firestarter(43)

Norv sensed the mild rebuke and said no more. He knew it would be best to take the two of them with no outside interference, because Andrew McGee was going to have an unfortunate accident as soon as they got him. A fatal accident. With no bluesuits hanging around, it could happen that much sooner.

Ahead of him and Al, the brakelights of OJ's car flashed briefly, and then the car turned onto a dirt road. The others followed.

12

"I don't understand any of this," Norma said. "Bobbi... Charlie... can't you calm down?"

"You don't understand," Charlie said. Her voice was high and strangled. Looking at her made Irv jumpy. Her face was like that of a rabbit caught in a snare. She pulled free of Norma's arm and ran to her father, who put his hands on her shoulders.

"I think they're going to kill you, Daddy," she said.

"What?"

"Kill you," she repeated. Her eyes were staring and glazed with panic. Her mouth worked frantically. "We have to run. We have to-"

Hot. Too hot in here.

He glanced to his left. Mounted on the wall between the stove and the sink was an indoor thermometer, the kind that can be purchased from any mail-order catalogue. At the bottom of this one, a plastic red devil with a pitchfork was grinning and mopping his brow. The motto beneath his cloven hooves read: HOT ENOUGH FOR YA?

The mercury in the thermometer was slowly rising, an accusing red finger.

"Yes, that's what they want to do," she said. "Kill you, kill you like they did Mommy, take me away, I won't, I won't let it happen, I won't let it-"

Her voice was rising. Rising like the column of mercury.

"Charlie! Watch what you're doing!"

Her eyes cleared a little. Irv and his wife had drawn together.

"Irv... what-"

But Irv had seen Andy's glance at the thermometer, and suddenly he believed. It was hot in here now. Hot enough to sweat. The mercury in the thermometer stood just above ninety degrees.

"Holy Jesus Christ," he said hoarsely. "Did she do that, Frank?" Andy ignored him. His hands were still on Charlie's shoulders. He looked into her eyes. "Charlie-do you think it's too late? How does it feel to you?" "Yes," she said. All the color was gone from her face. "They're coming up the dirt road now. Oh Daddy, I'm scared."

"You can stop them, Charlie," he said quietly.

She looked at him.

"Yes," he said.

"But-Daddy-it's bad. I know it is. I could kill them."

"Yes," he said. "Maybe now it's kill or be killed. Maybe it's come down to that."

"It's not bad?" Her voice was almost inaudible.

"Yes," Andy said. "It is. Never kid yourself that it isn't. And don't do it if you can't handle it, Charlie. Not even for me." They looked at each other, eye to eye, Andy's eyes tired and bloodshot and frightened, Charlie's eyes wide, nearly hypnotized. She said: "If I do... something... will you still love me?"

The question hung between them, lazily revolving.

"Charlie," he said, "I'll always love you. No matter what."

Irv had been at the window and now he crossed the room to them. "I think I got some tall apologizing to do," he said. "There's a whole line of cars coming up the road. I'll stand with you, if you want. I got my deer gun." But he looked suddenly frightened, almost sick.

Charlie said: "You don't need your gun."

She slipped out from under her father's hands and walked across to the screen door, in Norma Manders's knitted white sweater looking even smaller than she was. She let herself out.

After a moment, Andy found his feet and went after her. His stomach felt frozen, as if he'd just gobbled a huge Dairy Queen cone in three bites. The Manderses stayed behind. Andy caught one last look at the man's baffled, frightened face, and a random thought-that'll teach you to pick up hitchhikers-darted across his consciousness.

Then he and Charlie were on the porch, watching the first of the cars turn up the long driveway. The hens squawked and fluttered. In the barn, Bossy mooed again for someone to come and milk her. And thin October sunshine lay over the wooded ridges and autumn-brown fields of this small upstate-New York town. It had been almost a year of running, and Andy was surprised to find an odd sense of relief mixed in with his sharp terror. He had heard that in its extremity, even a rabbit will sometimes turn and face the dogs, driven back to some earlier, less meek nature at the instant before it must be torn apart.

At any rate, it was good not to be running. He stood with Charlie, the sunshine mellow on her blond hair.

"Oh Daddy," she moaned. "I can't hardly stand up."

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her more tightly against his side.

The first car stopped at the head of the dooryard and two men got out.

13

"Hi, Andy," A1 Steinowitz said, and smiled. "Hi, Charlie." His hands were empty, but his coat was open. Behind him the other man stood alertly by the car, hands at his sides. The second car stopped behind the first and four more men spilled out. All the cars were stopping, all the men getting out. Andy counted a dozen and then stopped counting.

"Go away," Charlie said. Her voice was thin and high in the cool early afternoon. "You've led us a merry chase," A1 said to Andy. He looked at Charlie. "Honey, you don't have to-""Go away!" she screamed. A1 shrugged and smiled disarmingly. "Fraid I can't do that, honey. I have my orders. No one wants to hurt you or your daddy."