Satan's Servant, page 23
Mike and Erminio stood up, holstering their guns. The automatic door behind them popped open, and Roger came out.
Mike waved him back. “Get the carts out here. Erminio, get the trunk.”
As Roger rolled out the first cart, Karen went after the second, and the contents of both were hastily loaded into the car.
Mike slammed the trunk. “Okay, we’ve got food. There’s one more thing we need. My car’s on empty and I want to fill it. There’s a Texaco station on the way back. We’ll stop there. Erminio, do you need gas?”
“I got over three quarters of a tank, boss.”
“Okay, we’ll just fill mine. You follow us and park where you can keep an eye on things while we’re gassing up. Roger will tell you what happened inside the grocery store. Let’s go.” He started for his car, then turned and caught Erminio’s arm. “If anything gets too tight, shoot. It’s better them than us, even if they aren’t responsible for what they’re doing.”
6
Picturesque, he thought, just like the old adobe churches in the tourist brochures. He had never seen the church before. He had never been to Rancho Lucero before—probably because it was not on the way to anywhere. The state highway passing through town ended at another state highway which was more easily reached on the freeway.
He parked beside a Volkswagen with weathered blue paint and got out of his car. He walked around the VW. All its tires were flat.
There was some sort of notice stuck on the massive front doors of the church. He decided he could read it later and walked around the church to the small stucco house in back. He knocked, waited, then knocked again. Nothing. He tried the door. Locked. Following a small dirt path to the rear of the house, he found a small vegetable garden, with peas, cucumbers, carrots, and lettuce ready for picking, and another locked door.
He knocked on it, waited a moment, then went back to the church. He studied the notice on the door, frowned, and pulled on the big wrought iron handles. The door was locked. Frowning again, he took out a small notebook and copied down the notice.
7
Karen turned pale when Mike told her about what they had found in the freezer. “God, Mike, that could happen to us.” She paused, staring out the car window. “What is going to happen to us?”
“I don’t know, Karen. Our best hope has been that Roger would figure something out, but he’s just floundering, hoping to pull a solution out of thin air before it’s too late.” He sighed. “I think it’s already too late, and all we can do is defend ourselves.”
“I heard what you told Erminio.”
He nodded. “It’s a damn lousy situation, but what I told Erminio is true. It’s better them than us.”
She put her hand on Mike’s shoulder and looked at him intently. “It might not be too late to pull out, Mike. Maybe we should just run as far away from here as we can get. We’ve tried our best, but there’s nothing more we can do except get ourselves killed. Please, Mike, give it up, and let’s get out of here.”
He looked into Karen’s pleading eyes and forgot what he was going to say. “Karen, I—” He shook his head. The battle looked hopeless, and if he continued it, he would get them all killed. He could not let that happen—especially to Karen. What if they got a hold of her and—he saw the chopped-up thing hanging in the freezer.
He tried to keep his shudder from showing. “Karen, I think you should let me get you out of here as quickly as possible. There’s no point in risking your life.” He suppressed another shudder. “You can’t help us that much. You’re crazy for staying.”
“I’ll go if you come with me.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Then I’m staying.”
Her answer did not surprise him. She was using the risk to herself as a lever to get him to save his own stupid neck. Look what will happen to me if you don’t listen to reason. A wave of guilt rushed over him as he suddenly realized he was more concerned about what happened to Karen than he was about what happened to Jill. Maybe it was because Jill had already been claimed by the other side, but Karen could still be saved. The rationalization was of little help.
He took a deep breath and made a decision. “Okay, Karen, but not for another day or two. I’ve got to give Roger all the time I can. If things get to the point where all we’re doing is shooting crazy people and Roger is still getting nowhere, we’ll write it off as a lost cause and get the hell out.”
“Oh, Mike! Thank God!” She laid her head on his shoulder.
Mike felt tears soaking into his shirt; he squeezed her arm.
Karen wondered how long she had loved, this strange small-town cop. She had only admitted it to herself just now. Perhaps admitting it was what made it happen. She sniffed and straightened up, using her sleeve to dry her eyes—and she remembered Roger. Would he let them go? She had seen his dark side; it was strong, purposeful, menacing. She was suddenly very afraid of Roger, and she had to tell Mike about him.
“Mike.”
“What?”
“There’s something—” She realized they were pulling into the service station and decided to wait until they were back on the road. “Uh, do you know that before today we hardly ever called each other by our first names?”
Mike laughed. “No, but I haven’t had too much time for thinking about things like that.”
8
There were no cars at any of the gas pumps, and Mike pulled up at the island farthest from the office. Erminio and Roger parked in a vacant lot next to the service station.
An unshaven, gray-haired man in grease-soaked green coveralls appeared and squeezed between Mike’s car and the gas pumps. “Nice day. Not too hot, not too cold.” The flat, disinterested tone of his voice canceled out the friendly words.
“Yeah. Fill ’er up. Premium.”
There were clanking sounds and a gas pump hummed; then green coveralls blocked the window, and there was a shiny nozzle—hissing, squirting, drenching them with gasoline. Karen shrieked, the nozzle vanished, and there was a hand reaching into a pocket.
Mike yelled: “Jump!” Karen was out of the car, and he was sliding across the seat after her, feet hitting concrete, scrambling, Karen tugging on his arm. How far? How far was far enough to keep the flames from jumping to their gas-soaked bodies? Fumble the match, you son of a bitch!
There was a flash, a rush of hot air, and the roar of flames.
The car was burning.
But they were not.
Then Karen was clutching him, Erminio was hollering, and they were running toward the other car.
Erminio hurried over to them. “Boss, I couldn’t do anything! I didn’t know there was anything wrong until you were getting out of the car—then it happened too quick!”
Roger had stopped to grind out his cigarette before he got close to Mike and Karen. Now he joined them, and they all stared at the burning car. The entire interior was blazing; flames were spewing out the open door and window and roaring up from something beside the gas pump.
Erminio pointed at it. “That’s him. He got gas on himself, too.”
Mike was holding Karen; he could feel her trembling. “Let’s get out of here before the whole goddamn place goes up. I think there’s supposed to be some sort of a safety mechanism to prevent a fire from blowing the underground tanks, but I don’t want to stick around and see if it works.”
“You were lucky, boss.”
“God! I don’t think anyone has to tell us that.” He squeezed Karen a little tighter.
“No, I mean when you were coming out of the car, I saw him bend over. I think he dropped the matches.”
In the distance, the firehouse siren suddenly blared. Well, Mike thought, at least they’re still fighting fires. Normally, he would block off the road to keep spectators at a safe distance and drivers from running over the fire hoses. Normally. The word sounded absurd.
9
The gasoline had evaporated from their clothes, but not the odor of it, and they rode with all the windows open. Erminio drove; Mike and Karen sat in back.
Karen had not spoken since they got into the car. She stared out the window, apparently lost in thought.
Mike gave her knee a squeeze and leaned forward. “Okay. Erminio, the first thing you do is get your shotgun out of the trunk. Go in and check the place out. Then keep an eye on things while we unload. Karen, the sooner we get out of these clothes, the better. So you get into the shower as soon as we get back. Roger and I can handle the unloading.”
Roger stopped his hand from reaching for a cigarette. “It could have been worse.”
“How’s that?”
“We could have lost the car with the groceries in it.”
Karen broke into a smile. “Do you know what that sounded like? Dialog from Dragnet.” She giggled, sputtered; then she was rocking back and forth in uncontrolled laughter. Finally, she stopped and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. Some people scream and have hysterics. I let it all out that way.” She put her hand on Mike’s arm. “I’m all better now.”
A few pieces of gravel from the parking lot popped the underside of the car, and Erminio stopped in front of the “Police Vehicles Only” sign.
They had to unload some of the groceries just so Erminio could extract the shotgun. Once he had it, he disappeared inside.
Mike began gathering up canned goods. “There’s so much of this stuff that we might just as well pile it on the floor so we have room to sort it all out.”
Erminio came back. “There’s nothing inside but the dog, boss.”
“Go ahead and put her out back. She’ll go nuts with all these groceries all over the floor.”
Karen grabbed a few cans. “I’ll start the pile for you on my way to the shower.” She dashed for the door.
10
By the time she came out of the bathroom, Mike and Roger were sitting on the office floor, surrounded by their haul of groceries. Erminio, holding his shotgun, looked out the window.
Karen pulled a comb through her wet hair. “I didn’t realize we got so much stuff. I’ll give you a hand with it in a minute.”
Mike cocked an eyebrow. “This stuff is stolen, you know. If I catch you eating any of it, you’ll be living in the jail.”
“Nobody likes a smart ass.” She took a couple of steps toward him and stopped. “Ugh!” She made a face. “Somebody still smells like gasoline. Ouch!” Her comb had just snagged a knotted tangle.
Mike laughed. “God is punishing you for saying mean things about me.”
She shrugged. “I get too much pleasure out of it to give it up. I guess I’ll just have to take the punishment.”
Looking at her, Mike felt a warm tingle well up inside—the kind of feeling he thought you didn’t get anymore once you had recovered from being a teenager, and certainly not when you were a jaded cop in your mid-thirties. She had put on tight-fitting brown pants and an orange pullover top which clung snugly to her small braless breasts, clearly showing her nipples. They were jiggling as she combed her hair. At that moment Mike would have given almost anything to be alone with her.
She shoved the comb into her back pocket and sat down next to him, giving him a sly look and wrinkling her nose. “You really do smell like a service station.”
“I was just waiting for you to finish primping.” He stood up. “Did you leave me any hot water?”
“I tried to use it all up out of meanness, but I was getting waterlogged.” She picked up a can of peas. “Who’s stacking vegetables?”
Roger’s hand appeared in front of her with a can of beans. “You are.”
“Oh.” She took the can.
Mike felt another surge of desire and, remembering what Karen had said about hot water, almost chuckled out loud. What he needed was a cold shower. He headed for the jail to dig out some clean clothes.
Erminio looked out the window in silence. He thought they should be making plans and checking their weapons, not laughing and playing with groceries like kids with their Halloween treats. He did not understand how Mike could see a body like that, get shot at and nearly burned alive, then act as if nothing had happened. Karen was almost the same way, but he never had understood her. He was brought up to think any woman who undressed around men as casually as she did was a puta, a whore. Besides, what kind of woman could not cook? And Roger—well, nothing changed him very much. The Devil worshiper joked a little bit, but he was always going about his business—even when he was laughing. But things would still be okay. The boss had come around now, and he was probably just letting them have a little relaxation before getting down to serious business.
Karen pointed. “Erminio, is that all the cabinet space?”
He looked where she was pointing, then nodded. “Except for the closet. Sometimes we use it.”
She sized up the two small cabinets over the stove and shook her head. “Let’s see if we can get the stew and the instant macaroni dinners and stuff like that in the cabinets. Most of this stuff—like these twelve cans of sweet potatoes I’ve got here—can go in the closet.”
Roger pulled out a cigarette. “Before we start on that, let me enjoy this smoke—now that I’m not surrounded by gasoline-saturated bodies.” He lit up.
Roger realized what Erminio did not. They had to squeeze what pleasure they could between the horrors, because the alternative was continuous terror. The laughing and joking were a defense mechanism, and sometimes the merriment was a lot more strained than it seemed. But now they were getting too damned merry. Within the past few hours, some kind of spontaneous love affair had erupted between Mike and Karen. They were actually getting gooey-eyed when they looked at each other. Was it an extension of the defense mechanism? The answer was unimportant. A man overwhelmed with love starts losing sight of his duties and responsibilities. Life becomes special and precious to him, and he is not willing to take risks. It was only a matter of time before Mike announced that he and Karen were getting out: To hell with all this nonsense. It’s too dangerous. We’re going to float away, arm in arm, off to our dream world. Good-bye, Roger. Good-bye, Erminio. Good-bye to Rancho Lucero, evil spirits, and old girlfriends. Come on, Pita. See if you can float with us. Woof!
He considered his arsenal of spells. He was no master of the Art; the talismans he had made were about the limit of what he could do. His spells were a notch above bewitchments and lures, but nothing except the most powerful sorcery would accomplish anything that ran counter to nature, including human nature. He could not make Mike and Karen fall out of love when their desire was so fresh and so obviously compelling. Even working on Mike’s sense of duty or whatever guilt he might have over forsaking Jill would be wasted effort. He could throw every spell he had at Mike and never dent Karen’s hold on him. Whoever said all women are witches knew what he was talking about.
It was ironic. Here he was, one of only three living people to know what could be the most awesome secret ever entrusted to anyone. A secret giving him a power that made history’s most famous sorcerers seem mere amateurs. And he could do absolutely nothing about a small human thing like a man and a woman falling in love.
So, what was he worried about? There was so little time left the romance probably would not matter anyway.
11
Mike stepped out of the bathroom, his dirty clothes rolled into a ball and stuffed under his arm. The groceries were gone. Karen, Erminio, and Roger were at the window.
“A car just pulled in, boss.”
Mike tossed the clothes into the jail. “Who is it?”
“It’s a priest, boss. He’s alone.”
“Everybody sit down. Erminio, keep your shotgun where it’s inconspicuous, but handy.”
As soon as they were seated, the door opened, and a lanky, very young-looking priest stepped inside. He closed the door, strode to Erminio’s desk, and flashed a quick, businesslike smile. “I’m Father Jacobson. I need to get some information.”
“Erminio Gabaldon, Father.” He stood up, offering his hand.
The priest accepted the handshake and sat down, giving the wooden chair seat a quick brush with his fingers before letting it come into contact with his black pants. “I saw a police car on fire at a gas station. Was it one of yours?”
Erminio shifted uncomfortably. He knew Mike expected him to be vague, but lying to a priest was unthinkable. “Uh, yes, it was. Some gasoline got on it, and it caught on fire.” He hoped Mike would rescue him if the priest asked any more about the fire.
Father Jacobson looked suitably saddened by the loss of the car. “That’s too bad. I came by earlier, and there was no one here. I guess that’s where you were. To kill some time, I went to eat. I’d heard a lot about how good the food’s supposed to be at Maria’s Restaurant, so I tried it.” He shook his head. “It was quite a disappointment, I’m afraid. The plates were dirty, the waiter was surly, and the food was cold—not to mention tasteless. Of course, that’s the way with a lot of places. Once you’ve been there, you wonder how they got their reputations.”
Erminio looked at him blankly. “What can I do for you, Father?”
The priest leaned back, taking a quick look around the room. “Uh, I was sent here to check on Father Sample at Our Lady of Mercy Church. It seems no one has been able to contact him for a while. Has anything happened to him?”
“I’m Mike Ryan, chief of police here. I’m sorry, but Father Sample was killed yesterday by a hit-and-run driver.”
The priest blinked. “Oh, how terrible.” He dropped his eyes. “I didn’t know him myself, but it’s still such a shocking thing to hear.” He raised his eyes again, looking at Mike. “I’m surprised we weren’t notified.”
“It’s our job to do that, but we’ve been having trouble with our phones. We haven’t been able to call out.”
“I see. Uh, what’s the problem at the church?”
Mike frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
