“Our neighbors just bought two. They should be home.”
Luke left, and Andi followed his trail to the next house, the ambulance thundered down the street, the neighbors were there, handing over the keys, Andi went toward the door, George followed, the first responders entered, went through the house to the studio, the chief told them to take care of her husband, went after George; they ran to the neighbors, got onto the ATVs, a double roar. Andi held on to George, a blob behind a blob, the other ATV, Gelman and Norris, not important, they needed to follow the trail, into Bloody Dick Swamp, toward the forest, the ground was wet, not treacherous, though, once George saw the trail, it was easy to follow, all Andi had to do was not to fall off and keep his senses sharp.
They reached the tree line, went into the forest. The ground got harder, the swamp receding, until they reached a forest street, small, not often used. They left the trees, and George steered the ATV along the pebbled street, following the direction Andi had pointed out, left, deeper into the wilderness. Gelman was fumbling with his cell, probably informing Forard to follow his GPS. The chief was driving, and they were going as fast as possible. The trace was there, luckily for them, the stinking ATV made an impression on the arthropods. The fork that came, Andi had no trouble indicating the right direction. Deeper they went, until the road just vanished, there one moment, then gone, seemingly swallowed by the giant trees with their writhing roots, standing too thick, the ground too gnarly for even the ATVs. There was one standing at the side of the road, almost in the ditch, as if it had been parked in a hurry, the scent of smoke lifting. Andi could detect nuances. He didn’t know the killer, hadn’t met him personally yet, only an echo of him. Yes, he’d seen glimpses, drugs and chemicals and sickness, not of the body. House Cusabo, it was here, in parts; they had been right about that at least. George parked the ATV, got down, helped Andi, the chief stopping behind them. Andi turned toward where the trees grew thickest and started to walk, quickly, quickly, the scent was hanging in the air, thinning, intruder, intruder, they were intruding, where was the other one? He had to find them, had to find Tyler.
GEORGE WASholding Andi’s right shoulder, stabilizing him while he led them through the trees, following a trail only he could see. Behind him, Gelman and Chief Norris were trying to keep up, both of them not as fit as would have been desirable. A brief flash of smugness was quickly overridden by his worry for Tyler. The boy had been missing for almost two hours now, and there was a lot that could happen to a victim in two hours. If their killer stuck to his usual MO—and George had no doubt it was their killer, even if they still didn’t know who he was and how he’d found Tyler; the press probably, those useless hounds—there was still some time, but George wasn’t banking on it. They had taken his lair from him, had driven him out, had increased the pressure, which could be enough for some internal switch to flip and make it all worse. It always got worse with serial killers. An escalating curve.
“Close, we’re close, they’re down, in the earth, not so deep, not like the other place, Tyler is awake, fuck, it’s somebody from House Cusabo. I think I’ve seen him once, briefly, can see him now, so clear he’s there, waiting, Tyler is moving, we’re almost there, slow down, slow down,whump, whump, whump, something’s wrong, the scent, it doesn’t match, so confusing,krth, krth, krth, thump, thump, crch….”
Andi had stopped, facing slightly to their left, where George spotted a clearing where the angel oaks formed a sort of wobbly circle. He could see that the brush was disturbed, the brambles trampled.
“Andi? Where is Tyler?” George could hear Gelman and the chief approaching them.
“Under, they’re under the earth. Only one entrance, just the trapdoor.” He kept staring in the direction of the clearing.
Gelman came to a halt next to George, looking in the same direction. “There’s another bunker?”
“Apparently not like the one where we found the victims. Tyler and somebody from House Cusabo are down there.”
“How do you— No, forget it. It’s not important at the moment.” Chief Norris drew her weapon.
“No, we can’t just barge in.” Gelman held her back by grabbing the sleeve of her jacket. When she rounded on him, her eyes small, angry slits, he lifted both hands in a placating gesture. “We can’t. We don’t know what we’re going to find down there. We don’t know if there are other exits, where exactly Tyler is, or if the killer has a weapon, which is likely. The way things have been escalating for him in the last week, he’ll probably kill Tyler the moment he realizes we found him. He’snotgoing to listen to reason. You know that.”
For a long moment, Chief Norris kept her weapon trained on Gelman. Then, with a frustrated huff, she lowered it. “What do you suggest?”
“One tunnel, not long, a room at the end, one mattress, Tyler is on it, killer isthump, thump, thump, upset, sharp, expecting, only one entrance, just this hole, Tyler is all wrong, smells of tranquilizer, but it’s not right, wrong chemicals, knife, aggression, acid,thump, stomp, roomps, too much—” Andi collapsed, and George barely caught him. He managed to get his partner to the ground without hurting him. When he looked up from where he was kneeling beside Andi, holding his head in his lap, Gelman and the chief were staring at him with wide eyes.
“What he just said—is that true?” Norris’s voice was shaking.
George sighed. So much for keeping everything secret. He had always known this was bound to happen, that one day, Andi would be found out. It was inevitable. George had just hoped it wouldn’t be the chief and a psychologist from IA who would hold Andi’s—and George’s—fate in their hands. All this had to wait, though, because Tyler was still down there with a serial killer who had shed the last of his control.
“Yes. Apparently, the killer is pacing the room. He’s agitated, waiting for something. If I had to guess, it’s for whatever he has given Tyler to work, and it doesn’t.”
Chief Norris put a hand to her mouth, a little whimper escaping her. “Tyler is immune to a certain group of agents. Like his grandfather.”
“Which is his luck, because the killer can’t do whatever he’s planning as long as Tyler is awake. Profiling was right—he can’t look his victims in the eyes, needs them to be unconscious. This buys us time. We need a plan, quickly.”
George looked down at Andi, whose breathing had gone shallow. His skin was clammy and cold, his eyes closed. Every instinct inside of him screamed to get his partner, the man he loved, somewhere safe, where he could keep him warm and guide him back to the human world. He also knew Andi would hate him if he didn’t save Tyler first.
“Forard is on the way. How long will it take him to get here?”
Gelman got out his cell and stared at it. “Too long, I’m afraid. I texted him after you called me. He was in Charleston, luckily close to the precinct, but still, he has to get the team ready, they have to drive out here, following our GPS, and then they have to hike the last two miles. I don’t want to bet Tyler’s life on them arriving in time. And even if they were already here, the situation doesn’t change. Only one entrance, one tunnel, one room. The killer has all the time in the world to kill Tyler as soon as he realizes we’re here. Sorry, Chief.”
Norris was shaking her head. “There has to be something we can do.” She sounded so desperate, so vulnerable, George felt some of his resentment for her melting away.
“I’d say we take a look around. See if we can’t find a way to get inside without the killer noticing.”
Neither Gelman nor Norris looked hopeful, but they both started approaching the clearing. George had just put Andi’s head on a piece of moss that looked a little bit more comfortable than the rest of the ground, when he heard it. A deep, vibrating hum invading the clearing. Hastily he got up and ran toward Gelman and the chief, who were standing stock-still, staring at the other side of the clearing, where a dark cloud was moving toward them, sounding like thunder rolling down the hills.
“What the fuck?” Gelman’s mouth was hanging open.
George was still trying to make sense of what was going on, when two things happened at once. The bees—for it was bees, thousands of them—descended on the trapdoor George could see just beneath the bramble, and a frightened scream tore from the ground.
“Tyler!” Chief Norris was making a few steps toward the trapdoor, which was now covered in bees. The ones who hadn’t landed yet were like a curtain keeping them away. Another scream resounded.
“That’s not Tyler. That’s the killer.” Gelman was holding the chief back.
George turned to look where Andi was slumped on the ground like a bundle of rags. He detected faint movement on his clothes and skin—arthropods, a lot of them, covering his partner like a blanket, scurrying over his face, sliding under his clothes, cocooning him in. Whatever was going on here, he needed to be with his partner.
