Salem's Lot

17

Matt was dozing lightly when Jimmy and Ben came in, and he snapped awake almost immediately, his hand tightening on the cross he held in his right hand.

His eyes touched Jimmy’s, moved to Ben’s… and lingered. ‘What happened?’

Jimmy told him briefly. Ben said nothing.

‘Her body?’

‘Callahan and I put it face down in a crate that was down cellar, maybe the same crate Barlow came to town in. We threw it into the Royal River not an hour ago. Filled the box with stones. We used Straker’s car. If anyone noticed it by the bridge, they’ll think of him.’

‘You did well. Where’s Callahan? And the boy?’

‘Gone to Mark’s house. His parents have to be told everything. Barlow threatened them specifically.’

‘Will they believe?’

‘If they don’t, Mark will have his father call you.’ Matt nodded. He looked very tired.

‘And Ben,’ he said. ‘Come here. Sit on my bed.’

Ben came obediently, his face blank and dazed. He sat down and folded his hands neatly in his lap. His eyes were burned cigarette holes.

‘There’s no comfort for you,’ Matt said. He took one of Ben’s hands in his own. Ben let him, unprotesting. ‘It doesn’t matter. Time will comfort you. She is at rest.’

‘He played us for fools,’ Ben said hollowly. ‘He mocked us, each in turn. Jimmy, give him the letter.’

Jimmy gave Matt the envelope. He stripped the heavy sheet of stationery from the envelope and read it carefully, holding the paper only inches from his nose. His lips moved slightly. He put it down and said, ‘Yes. It is him. His ego is larger than even I imagined. It makes me want to shiver.’

‘He left her for a joke,’ Ben said hollowly. ‘He was gone, long before. Fighting him is like fighting the wind. We must seem like bugs to him. Little bugs scurrying around for his amusement.’

Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, but Matt shook his head slightly.

‘That is far from the truth,’ he said. ‘If he could have taken Susan with him, he would have. He wouldn’t give up his Undead just for jokes when there are so few of them! Step back a minute, Ben, and consider what you’ve done to him. Killed his familiar, Straker. By his own admission, even forced him to participate in the murder by reason of his insatiable appetite! How it must have terrified him to wake from his dreamless sleep and find that a young boy, unarmed, had slain such a fearsome creature.’

He sat up in bed with some difficulty. Ben had turned his head and was looking at him with the first interest he had shown since the others had come out of the house to find him in the back yard.

‘Maybe that’s not the greatest victory,’ Matt mused. ‘You’ve driven him from his house, his chosen home. Jimmy said that Father Callahan sterilized the cellar with holy water and has sealed all the doors with the Host. If he goes there again, he’ll die… and he knows it.’

‘But he got away,’ Ben said. ‘What does it matter?’

‘He got away,’ Matt echoed softly. ‘And where did he sleep today? In the trunk of a car? In the cellar of one of his victims? Perhaps in the basement of the old Methodist Church in the Marshes which burned down in the fire of ‘51? Wherever it was, do you think he liked it, or felt safe there?’

Ben didn’t answer.

‘Tomorrow, you’ll begin to hunt,’ Matt said, and his hands tightened over Ben’s. ‘Not just for Barlow, but for all the little fish-and there will be a great many little fish after tonight. Their hunger is never satisfied. They’ll eat until they’re glutted. The nights are his, but in the daytime you will hound him and hound him until he takes fright and flees or until you drag him, staked and screaming, into the sunlight!’

Ben’s head had come up at this speech. His face had taken on an animation that was close to ghastly. Now a small smile touched his mouth. ‘Yes, that’s good,’ he whispered. ‘Only tonight instead of tomorrow. Right now-’

Matt’s hand shot out and clutched Ben’s shoulder with surprising, sinewy strength. ‘Not tonight. Tonight we’re going to spend together-you and I and Jimmy and Father Callahan and Mark and Mark’s parents. He knows now… he’s afraid. Only a madman or a saint would dare to approach Barlow when he is awake in his mother-night. And none of us are either.’ He closed his eyes and said softly, ‘I’m beginning to know him, I think. I lie in this hospital bed and play Mycroft Holmes, trying to outguess him by putting myself in his place. He has lived for centuries, and he is brilliant. But he is also an egocentric, as his letter shows. Why not? His ego has grown the way a pearl does, layer by layer, until it is huge and poisonous. He’s filled with pride. It must be vaunting indeed. And his thirst for revenge must be overmastering, a thing to be trembled at, but perhaps also a thing to be used.’

He opened his eyes and looked solemnly at them both. He raised the cross before him. ‘This will stop him, but it may not stop someone he can use, the way he used Floyd Tibbits. I think he may try to eliminate some of us tonight… some of us or all of us.’

He looked at Jimmy.

‘I think bad judgment was used in sending Mark and Father Callahan to the house of Mark’s parents. They could have been called from here and summoned, knowing nothing. Now we are split… and I am especially worried for the boy. Jimmy, you had better call them… call them now.’

‘All right.’ He got up.

Matt looked at Ben. ‘And you will stay with us? Fight with us?’

‘Yes,’ Ben said hoarsely. ‘Yes.’

Jimmy left the room, went down the hall to the nurse’s station, and found the Petries’ number in the book. He dialed it rapidly and listened with sick horror as the sirening sound of a line out of service came through the earpiece instead of a ringing tone.

‘He’s got them,’ he said.

The head nurse glanced up at the sound of his voice and was frightened by the look on his face.