CHAPTER 10
HELPERS
Hours seemed to pass inside the motel room, though with the way Chase dozed in and out waiting for Dylan to call, he wasn’t exactly sure if they really did. Every minute that came and went since he stormed out on Dylan seemed to drag on forever. It hadn’t helped that on the way back to the motor inn, he’d seen the parking lot at the Eat’N’Grease had completely emptied and the lights shut off. Not knowing where Dylan was or if the younger Weaverson was even alive made Chase unable to think straight.
Who’d have thought that he would wind up feeling this way, worrying about Dylan despite the fact that Dylan was an adult who could take care of himself for the most part? Peddle’s presence and indiscreet greed made Chase appreciate his brother more, the only blessing he could find in all this demon mess.
With a little luck, maybe he could still make a fresh start with Dylan. He didn’t know where to begin, but there had to be some way for him to mend fences. An apology might be in order. Sure, it might not have been the thing he really wanted to do, but stubbornness was a trait built equally into all Weaversons. Sometimes the pride just had to be swallowed. Expecting Dylan to admit how right Chase had been all along wasn’t prudent. He reminded himself of how he had turned his back on Dylan, not the other way around.
For a while, no one had made a peep since Peddle stopped Chase’s transformation. Now, the sudden, bluegrass-vibe jolt of the older Weaverson’s ringtone, usually a soothing sound, made Chase shoot straight up in his bed. Peddle grumbled something about how that choice of ringtone made Chase just as redneck as most of the people in Helensview, a comment Chase immediately dismissed without response.
He yanked his phone out and flipped it open without glancing at the caller I.D. Even though the call again came from an unknown number, Chase just knew it had to be his brother. Or maybe Ma and Pa had gotten a new phone and were calling to say that they’d spoken to Dylan. Hopefully, Dylan was on the way to Grains Plains before the demons completely drove the world to utter ruin.
“Who’s there? Dylan, is it you? For the love of it all, man, say something!”
A second later, a dial tone reached his ear. Angrily, he shook the phone back and forth, every shake more violent than the last. Through his side vision he could see Peddle eyeing him, the mogul’s hand holding up the bottle of pills again, hinting that maybe Chase needed more medicine.
“This stupid town can’t even carry a decent signal. I’ve just about had it,” Chase roared, pressing down hard on the off button, nearly breaking his cell phone in the process.
“Sure I can’t interest you in another one of these?” Peddle asked, reaching to uncap the container. “Maybe one wasn’t strong enough of a dose for you.”
Chase shook his head, glaring at the bottle in Peddle’s hand.
“I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself.”
Looking not the least bit dejected by Chase’s refusal, Peddle pocketed the medication once more. He then took to perching upon the side of Dylan’s bed, swinging his legs and tapping the bed with his heels.
Wondering what was going on outside at present, Chase went over to the window. Despite the glass being in the way, he caught the muffled cries of animals, some of which may’ve actually been dogs barking in protest against the other commotion. Because of the continual ringing in his head, it became terribly difficult for Chase to tell the different noises apart. Weren’t Peddle’s pills supposed to have squelched this mental disturbance?
Deciding that the motel room window got in the way of his ability to hear, he reached over and slowly unfastened it. Even just a crack helped him some. His ears picked up a faint shriek in the distance, nothing like the demon chatter he was already growing accustomed to. In fact, he almost swore he could’ve heard someone screaming for help from off in the distance. Another yowl, immediately following the first one, made him fly toward the door.
“What’s going on?” Peddle asked with slim hesitation in his voice.
“Someone out there needs help,” Chase said. His whole body flared with heroic instinct. If someone else was still out there, he had to step in before the demons killed them.
And how was it that he had caught wind of the scream, but Peddle remained oblivious to it? Had his hearing had somehow improved after he’d taken Peddle’s medicine? Were heightened senses somehow a side effect of those capsules?
He threw open the motel room door and dashed out into the parking lot. Craning his neck every which direction except immediately behind him, he deduced that the noise had come from somewhere close by. Unrelenting, the cries beckoned Chase their way. Footsteps behind him proved that Peddle remained invested in this matter, at least for now. Running until he spotted something, he then stopped abruptly, making the other man crash into him.
“What are you doing, Weaverson?” Peddle asked with an indignant tone while peeling himself off Chase.
“Look!” Chase said, pointing toward the thing that had caught his eye.
Under the light of a familiar lamppost, a trio of police officer demons surrounded a boy with jet-black hair, brown skin, and thin-rimmed glasses, bound to a wheelchair. One of the officers still seemed capable of hoisting his gun at the boy, but the other two crouched down like some of the other demons from earlier. The crouching duo took warning swipes at the boy, casting the appearance of toying with their prey in cat-like fashion.
“Oh, god. Even the cops have turned!” said Peddle. The way his eyes bulged open removed any lingering doubt of how seriously the gas station owner took this matter.
Chase watched the glock wielder pistol-whip the boy in the head. Adrenaline rushing through his body, he charged at the creatures, fists first. The power he’d felt just before his near-transformation returned in full force, like it’d never left at all. Concern for his own safety fell by the wayside as the compulsion to save that boy drove him wild with intent.
He drew a right hook at the one with the gun, his fist striking the back of the demon’s head before the creature had a chance to swing around and blow his brains out. The demon crashed to the ground, his weapon slipping out of his hand and sliding along the pavement to a distance of several inches away.
Chase next tackled the one directly behind the boy, thrusting his knuckles repeatedly in the officer demon’s face, the crackle of shattering jawbone piercing the air. As he moved, his actions grew increasingly faster, his newfound speed making the world around him a complete blur as he channeled the intensity of this moment into raw energy to keep himself going. Blood wetted the back of his hand, though whether it belonged to him or the cop, he didn’t know.
He came around with the heel of his boot, throwing it into the side of the second officer’s leg. Then he seized the .9mm out of the officer’s holster and aimed its barrel at the former cop, point blank range. A single shot of gunfire boomed. Chunks of skull flew this way and that, brain matter splattering everywhere, the officer’s glasses fogging up with red. Moments later, the cop-demon keeled over, dead.
The remaining fiend, who up until that moment had continued terrorizing the boy, took note of this and scampered away. A few high bounds put more space between her and a bullet from Chase’s firearm. As this one escaped, Chase finished off the one he’d knocked out a second ago with the gun’s last bullet before focusing on the boy.
“You’re all right now, son.” Chase pocketed the gun while Peddle straightened out the boy’s chair. He then checked the boy for any physical injuries before Peddle helped him lift the kid back into his chair.
“What happened?” the boy cried. “Why’s everyone turning into monsters?”
Chase and Peddle shared a glance.
“We don’t know. Where are your parents?” Peddle asked.
The boy lifted a quivering finger. Chase’s gaze followed the direction indicated. Peddle let out an involuntary gasp as the boy gestured at the demonic woman officer lying before them in a pond of blood.
“That’s my mom.”
&
nbsp; Dry air rushed in to fill the open space of Chase’s mouth as the news of who he’d just shot to death choked his mind.