CHAPTER 11
SIMON ON WHEELS
The moon peeked out from behind a wayward cloud, its light assisting the streetlamps. From a distance Chase watched Peddle make a genuine effort to console the boy by offering the kid a handkerchief. He could still hear snot being blown right into Peddle’s cloth. The illumination around them showed Peddle’s face in response to all the mucus
At least maybe now Peddle would take the possible end of the world more seriously. If anything, he might see how much more value life had instead of his profit margin. Most people would’ve fled town first chance they got, money be damned. People like the restaurant staff, however, had no means of escape, which effectively screwed them out of any chance for survival.
But Peddle wasn’t a native of the town in any sense of the word. He probably didn’t care what eventually became of Helensview. His customer base was probably the only reason he stuck around. Once that was gone, the gas station owner would probably hit the road himself.
For the time being, Peddle treated the boy with some decency by tending to his tears. Perhaps the only reason why Peddle did this was because Chase couldn’t. After all, the gas station owner hadn’t shot and killed the kid’s mother, even though she’d become a demon herself. Chase had squeezed the trigger without considering that maybe Peddle’s pills could’ve changed her back, too. It wasn’t exactly a cut-and-dry case of once a demon, always a demon.
No, Chase had done the right thing. He couldn’t start second-guessing himself now. Those demons would’ve sliced the boy’s intestines open with their claws if he hadn’t acted in time. The mom had been lost completely; Chase was sure of it. At least the boy was still here among the sane and living. That had to count for something.
When did things get so complicated? Life had been so simple seven years ago. You went out, you hung out with friends, you had a beer, you might get into a fight at the bar, and you slept the hangover away, sometimes with a lady friend nuzzling up to you around breakfast time. Everything that Dylan still did today was what Chase used to love to do.
Only now, Chase spat on that kind of lifestyle, despite leading such a life himself once. Why did he have to be such a jerk about things? If it hadn’t been for Dylan, Ma and Pa would’ve found out all about where Chase had really been those seven years ago. Dylan had covered for Chase by claiming Chase had found work out of state, and that he was working his butt off to fix things. Fortunately, the folks had taken that to mean that Chase had started his own repair business.
This was the sort of thing the Weaverson brothers always did for one another. Somewhere along the way, Chase had forgotten this. What they used to do for one another lay in the very spirit of brotherhood. And now, with the possibility of Dylan being dead, Chase might never get a chance to actually fix things.
“Hey, kid, don’t cry. At least your mom’s not a violent, bloodthirsty beast bent on ripping out your guts anymore,” said Peddle, his words anything but comforting, despite the effort put forth in his tone.
Catching wind of Peddle’s poor phrasing, Chase grew close enough to see the boy looking up at Peddle in between sniffles.
“Sorry, sir,” said the boy.
The illumination from the streetlamp gave Chase a better glimpse of the boy’s blotchy eyes. Despite the stench of sulfur lingering in the air, Chase took in a deep breath, if only to keep himself from lashing out against Peddle needlessly. He didn’t need to transform into a demon himself, especially now that they were starting to find other survivors.
Chase clasped his hand on the gas station owner’s shoulder, nudging him away from the boy.
“Give the kid some space. He doesn’t need your sort of help right now.”
A glimmer of confusion shone on the other man’s face.
“What’d I say?”
Chase frowned at Peddle. How could anyone who obviously thrived in the business world be so dense? Then again, it shouldn’t have surprised him. What else could he have expected from a clod who went on with his business like normal while all of Helensview danced its demonic ballet?
“I’ll be fine, Mister.” The kid wiped his sleeve against his face, tossing the handkerchief onto the street. “I know I can’t bring her back.”
Chase removed his hand from Peddle’s shoulder and moved to gently grip the boy’s arm.
“Call me Chase.”
“Okay.”
“Where’s your dad, kid?”
“Simon,” the boy announced with a smaller quiver in his pitch. “Dad left Mom and me some years ago.”
“Figures,” muttered Peddle. “Sounds like your dad refused to pay his fair share in bringing you into this world. Typical deadbeat.”
“Hey! Dad did the best he could,” Simon replied with a scowl. “Not his fault I got hurt a couple of years ago in a car crash.”
“Good thing he got out of town before all hell broke loose,” Chase said, grumbling to himself.
“Wish I knew if Dad’s okay. I hope he doesn’t wind up dead like my mom,” said Simon.
Chase couldn’t fault Simon for saying that. If any of the other Weaversons changed, he probably wouldn’t be prepared to deal with them as demons, much less bring himself to blast their heads off.
“We should really get off the streets. There’s no telling how many more of these demons might still be out here,” Peddle said, looking around in all directions. His fists clenched up, a sign that he was ready for action.
Or more likely ready to run, thought Chase.
For once, however, he couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to argue Peddle’s point. Instead, his fingers grazed the side of the pocket in which he’d stashed the .9mm. He could still almost smell the residue of gunpowder left behind in the barrel after firing those shots. Hopefully he wouldn’t need the gun again for a good long while.
“How far away is your house, Simon?” he asked.
Simon said, “A couple blocks away, sir.”
“Mind if we head over there?”
Peddle blinked at Chase. “Really? We’re just going to throw Simon in the back of your truck?”
“We’re not going to treat Simon like a piece of plywood,” Chase replied. Another spark of outrage flowed through him, even though Peddle wasn’t really asking for it. This time, the very sound of Peddle’s voice alone triggered the response. “I’ll leave my truck here for now. If Simon’s house is nearby, I think we’ll be all right on foot. For some reason, cars seem to really excite the demons, as if the creatures are drawn to them. Maybe that’s why that old guy demon spared me the other night. I wasn’t in my truck at all at that point.”
“But you did use your truck to get away from the gas station,” said Peddle, apparently seeing Chase’s logic. “That’s when they did attack you.”
“And they left you alone in your gas station pretty much until I showed up.”
“Yes,” Peddle said, rubbing his chin. “This does make sense.”
Chase nodded. “They haven’t even gone after the restaurant staff. And they only attacked Simon because he was in a wheelchair.”
“Maybe we should ditch the chair. What if the demons are attracted to motion?” asked Peddle.
“But I need my chair,” Simon said, his voice barely a whisper.
At this, Peddle spun away from Chase, facing the boy whose own mother had nearly succeeded in tearing him to shreds just a few minutes ago.
“That reminds me. Why are you out and about on your own if you can’t get anywhere without your chair?”
Simon sighed. He looked up at the sky like he was trying to think up an excuse, as though he’d been told not to leave the house, and had knowingly gone against his mother’s wishes anyhow.
“I just wanted to visit our neighbor Mr. Sorray. When Mom told me to stay indoors because there might be problems, I got bored. Mr. Sorray always lets me come over. I wanted to go see how he was doing.”
“Despite what your mom said about staying put,” Peddle blurted out, his lack of tact strong
as ever.
“Parents usually don’t just spout things off for the heck of it, Simon,” Chase said, reflecting on his own moments of teenage rebellion fifteen years ago. How Ma and Pa managed to put up with his own shenanigans, he didn’t know.
Simon tried to give Chase something of a smile. “I know that, sir, but I hadn’t heard from Mr. Sorray in two days. I missed him. Kind of like how I miss my dad.”
Seeing how late it was getting, Chase went behind Simon and grabbed the handlebars to the kid’s chair. With a shove he launched the chair and its occupant forward.
“Which way to your house?” he asked.
Simon pointed straight forward. “Two blocks to the west and one street up. It’s not far.”
Definitely too far for this crazy kid to venture out in the midst of all this demon danger, thought Chase. Something wasn’t right about this at all.
“Do you have any other family in the area, Simon? Any friends or neighbors you could stay with until this all blows over?” Peddle asked.
“No,” Simon whimpered. He didn’t speak again until after they crossed a street. “Are we going to die? Those demons killed Mr. Sorray. I don’t want them to kill me, too.”
“You saw them kill Mr. Sorray?” Chase asked, cutting in before Peddle could ask his next tactless question.
Simon breathed deeply, the last of the sniffles finally fading. The wheels of his chair crunched gravel as the sidewalk ended on a street consisting of residential yards with chain-linked fencing on either side.
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry, Simon,” Chase said, wishing there was something he could do to take away the boy’s pain. Looking out for him until they found a way to contact Simon’s dad appeared to be the only option on the table for him.
Suddenly, he had a second reason to hang around Helensview and figure out what was going on with the world at large.