CHAPTER 21
ONE WAY
The reddish orange light seeping in through the western window indicated the sun’s losing battle with twilight. With any luck, Dylan and Peddle would finish burying Brittany and make it back inside before the sky grew completely pitch black. Chase rested his head against the throw cushion on the sofa. Lack of energy nudged him toward sleep, despite his best effort to stay alert for the others to return. At least he had the .9mm in his possession again, which was probably why he almost gave in to the appeal of stealing some shut-eye.
He rolled his head to the side. There he caught a glimpse of Simon sitting by a window in the corner. The need to reassure the boy weighed heavily on him, but Chase couldn’t think of what to say. The events of the past forty-eight hours had run them all through the gamut. Nothing he’d say would bring much comfort to either of them.
“Simon?” he finally said.
No response.
Chase blinked. No kid deserved this kind of suffering. If only he could turn back the clock and keep himself from killing Simon’s mom, maybe even slip her an anti-transformation pill. She may’ve still been too far gone for the pill to have any true effect, but at least then Chase would have done more to save her instead of gunning her down.
Yet the ability to fix this was beyond his reach. The one thing he could do was be there for the boy until Simon’s dad came around again. With any luck, phone service would either be restored, or the National Guard would finally mobilize and scour the town for survivors. The fact that they hadn’t arrived in Helensview after eighteen hours still didn’t sit well with him, but then again Helensview wasn’t the only town suffering from this.
“Do you know where your dad moved to?” he asked, hopefully not in vain.
“I don’t remember,” cried Simon.
The boy remained by the window, staring out into the night as if he found something comforting about the dark. After seeing the Helensview skyline erupt with an assortment of fiery colors the past few days, Chase couldn’t blame Simon for preferring the tranquility of the night.
“Simon, if we can’t find your dad, do you want to come live with me? Ma and Pa would like your company, and you already seem to get along with Dylan,” Chase said.
Simon shrugged. “How will we even get there? Your truck is gone.”
The answer sprang to mind quickly.
“Brittany’s Jaguar, of course,” Chase said.
He could just imagine what Dylan would think of that. The younger Weaverson would more than likely try to lay claim to it, considering he’d been in that forty-eight hour romance with Brittany.
“What if she bought tainted gas and it infects us all?” Simon asked.
So much for that idea, thought Chase. With the Jaguar not being an option for the lot of them anymore, he had to think of something else.
“Is there any way we could contact the outside world? At the moment, that seems to be our biggest problem.”
Actually, for Chase the problems ran deeper, given the dual pockets of pain near the top of his skull where bony horns still threatened to protrude.
Just as he was about to suggest another way of getting everybody out of town, Dylan and Peddle entered the room, both men covered in grime. A few more patches of fabric in Peddle’s uniform went missing, his ivory shirt reduced to an ashen gray rag. Meanwhile, Dylan’s fingers were wrapped loosely around a shovel. The tool slipped from his grip and clanged against the side of the coffee table on its way to the floor.
“Never thought I’d ever bury a woman in my life,” Dylan complained, wiping a sleeve against his forehead.
“Same here,” Peddle agreed.
Chase sat up and moved his legs to give Dylan somewhere to rest. Peddle sank into the bean bag chair, deeper than what he’d probably intended. The heavy groan from the gas station owner hinted at how unlikely he’d budge from there for hours, if not the night in full.
“I imagine a lot of folks are saying that sort of thing right about now,” said Chase. “So many lives lost over the weekend, and for what. Demon reproduction?”
Peddle looked at no one, further compounding the guilt surrounding his involvement with the demons.
“Well, Peddle?” barked Chase. “Care to elaborate on why Brittany and others like her were so intent on changing people?”
Peddle sighed but gave away nothing. The way he kept staring down at the floor proved that he was not ready to divulge anything to anyone.
“Forget it, Chase. This guy’s weak.” Dylan flung his hand in disgust at Peddle. “He’ll never tell us what he knows.”
Chase began to fume, but then he shifted gears. “Yeah, Dylan, I guess we can just wait until we all become demons, too. Plus, I doubt there’s enough ammunition left in Simon’s mom’s stockpile to keep that .9mm loaded for much longer.”
Peddle flew out of his chair. “Go ahead and make your sarcastic remarks while you can. You have no idea what those demons are capable of.”
“Uh, we just saw a little bit of what they’re capable of with Demon Brittany a few hours ago,” Chase was quick to point out. “But by all means, humor us.”
Peddle plopped back into his seat faster than he’d left it. He rested his elbows on his kneecaps, his palms upon the sides of his face.
“It’s very hard to start your own business. I wish you both the best in that regard with your farm,” Peddle said, nodding to both Chase and Dylan. “Working under the tyranny of another in the fueling industry nearly drove me insane. So I did everything I could think of to take on a franchise while paying bills at the same time. I filled out applications for jobs and loans, flyers, resumes, business cards, and such. I looked to bulletin boards and web sites for possible leads, none of which panned out. I read and answered as many newspapers ads as I could possibly find, thinking someone would make me an acceptable offer.
“Fortunately, somebody called me one day. They said they were interested in meeting me at the Eat’N’Grease for lunch and to discuss how to get my dreams of operating a gas station up and running. I was so desperate for a business I didn’t think twice about what I was about to sign up for. For crying out loud, I’m not even sure I asked them for their names.
“So I met with these prospective investors. They wore dark suits with matching fedoras and sunglasses. I could tell they were the ones I’d spoken to over the phone because of how well-dressed they were. Their skin carried a slight red hue that I attributed to sunburns. They ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, as they didn’t seem particularly interested in actually eating. We talked about an hour before we got down to discussing our expectations for each other.”
Peddle stopped to clear his throat. Chase nodded for Dylan to go get the man a drink of water to prevent the gas station owner from using that as an excuse to sneak off again. A moment later, Dylan returned with the glass, handing it to Peddle at once. A few swigs finished the water off in a hurry.
“They told me they’d finance everything,” Peddle continued a moment later. “All I had to do was just drive the business. I suggested to them I should sell gas at 99 cents per gallon, you know, to celebrate the grand opening. By all rights they should’ve denied me, but their supplier’s costs were apparently low enough to support my idea.”
“Or so they led you to believe,” Chase said. He crossed his arms, the droning in his brain steady at a high level.
Peddle shot a sharp glance at Chase.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Chase smirked disbelief to the others.
“Peddle, did you ask anything regarding the arrangement? Or did your greed blind you to the fine print?”
“Of course I looked at the fine print!” Peddle squeaked. “You’re saying this is my fault?”
“Yep.”
Peddle looked away, earning more contempt from Chase. Hard to believe anyone would willingly and blindly enter into a business relationship with someone like Peddle.
Unless they had nothing to lose and everything
to gain in the deal, thought Chase.
“I just wanted to run a gas station,” Peddle said, facing the older Weaverson again. “I didn’t know the demons conspired to demonize the town when I signed on the dotted line. Rest assured. If I had known, I would have never agreed to it in the first place.”
“Easy for you to say in hindsight,” Chase grunted. “When did you figure out that your associates weren’t exactly human?”
A wordless moan escaping from his throat, Peddle gave an empty stare.
“When did you know, Peddle?” Dylan repeated the question.
The brothers exchanged glances with one another. Chase couldn’t help but notice how Dylan’s troubled brows reflected the anxiety between them.
“At first, they explained nothing to me. I thought they were on the level,” said Peddle.
“So you made a deal with shady people whose purpose was a complete mystery to you originally?” asked Chase.
He caught Peddle staring back at him, as though the man expected him to back off. Chase gritted his teeth, unwilling to show any clemency unless the full truth came out.
“I don’t know what else to say.” Peddle groaned.
“You’re the only one who can get yourself out of this mess.”
“How?” Peddle asked. The glint in his eyes betrayed the man’s emotional exhaustion.
Chase grimaced. For someone so intent on protecting his business, Peddle didn’t sound like an especially cunning man. Perhaps the answers only came to Peddle at the gas station because Peddle knew exactly where to look: down toward his desk.
“Tell us about your supplier.”
“Why?”
Chase considered yanking out the .9mm from his pocket and threatening Peddle with it. The demons supported this action, as it would guarantee Peddle’s demise before the gas station owner could betray them further. Regardless of how angry the demons got over the questions, Chase didn’t give in to them.
“Because if we can stop the next tanker shipment, we might have a chance at stopping the transformation from striking other towns, like Grains Plains or Hedon City.”
Peddle scoffed at this.
“You don’t seem to understand that the distributor has six trucks in its line-up that are always delivering the tainted gas to other parts of the state. They’re also seriously considering going to full-on national distribution.”
“Ah, now I get it.” Chase snapped his fingers, then spun around and glared at Peddle. “It makes perfect sense why you’ll never spill about the pills. So long as there are still people in control of their faculties, there’s profit to be had by you and your investors.”
“Chase, give it up,” Dylan groaned, slumping further into the sofa cushions. “If Peddle doesn’t wanna talk, he won’t.”