CHAPTER 22
YIELD
Chase watched the moon slip between two clouds drifting northward in the western sky, the radio sitting on the patio table in front of him. There’d been no breaking news in several hours. Based on this, it seemed that the world had settled into its new routine, one in which the National Guard, assuming it still existed, didn’t give a damn about Helensview.
Not that Chase had ever truly found the town to his liking, either.
The one thing going for him was that at least Dylan had volunteered to help keep an eye on Peddle. With his shoulder still on the mend, Chase thanked his brother for stepping up to help, especially since Dylan had also been wounded, too. Thankfully, the younger Weaverson’s injury was nowhere near as severe as Chase’s. The family skill of survival remained strong as ever.
He leaned back in the patio chair, listening to the relative peace of the night. Without the usual noise pollution of traffic in the background, every muscle felt looser with less tension and pressure applied to each one. Although his guilt over killing two women would stick with him permanently, at least this moment didn’t seem so bad. Maybe the desert heat had gotten to him, or it could’ve been the demons using their influence to slowly dissolve his resistance.
Or I just might be enjoying a rare quiet moment, he thought.
He reflected on what Peddle had admitted to back inside the house, most of which merely mirrored what he’d already figured out on his own. The rasp of the sliding glass door opening caught Chase’s ear, though he didn’t bother to cock his head in that direction. After all, it couldn’t have been Simon, as the boy had likely gone to bed shortly after Peddle’s puking incident.
“Well, I finally cleaned up my mess,” said Peddle.
Chase looked around at the neighborhood, exaggerating the way he craned his neck as far as his wound would permit.
“You mean to tell me that everyone who got turned into a demon is alive and well and also back to being a human being?”
A grumble emerged from Peddle’s throat. The man found another chair a few feet away, dragged it across the patio’s deck, and set it down next to Chase. A few seconds later, Peddle’s ass hit the plastic seat hard.
“I meant to say that I got all the vomit off of the throw rug,” Peddle said. “Although my loafers will probably never be fully rid of the stains, you know.”
Chase gave no comment on the matter of the man’s shoes.
“Will you just say something already?” Peddle snapped at Chase, drawing the older Weaverson’s focus toward him.
“Drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” Chase shrank his eyes into tiny slits as he finally regarded Peddle.
“What?”
A scowl sank the corners of Chase’s lips. “That people don’t cooperate with you when you really want them to.”
“Your point?” Peddle’s brow hooked upward.
“Just saying.”
“It must be easy for you to look down upon others from high up on your pedestal.”
Chase faked a yawn before saying, “We don’t have time for this, Peddle. Right now my only concern is what your conniving associates intend to do next.”
“You think I keep track of them?”
“It’d be in your best interest to.” Chase sat up in his seat. “By your own admission, if you so much as step out of line even an inch, they’ll make you into Peddle flambé.”
“Well sorry to disappoint you, but aside from when their trucks pump new gas into my store’s reserves and I write them a check, I really don’t know what they do.” A flick of defiance danced in Peddle’s eyes. “Nor do I really care what they do, so long as they honor their end of the agreement.”
“Dammit, Peddle! I’m not going to die here in this blasted town.”
“You’re sure about that?”
Chase gnashed his teeth. “You really struggle with this whole thinking about others stuff, don’t you, Peddle? It figures. You make me sick.”
“You think I’m proud of what I’ve done?” Peddle roared with all the force of his lungs behind him. “I admit I’ve made some mistakes. I admit I couldn’t say no to their deal.
“But what the hell makes you think you’re any better than me? For crying out loud, you ran down a woman after a night of drinking, and you killed Simon’s mom. Do you really believe you’re an upstanding person yourself?”
For a second, silence lingered in the air. Chase let his brain absorb the full weight of Peddle’s words, along with the image of Peddle’s face flushing with rage. It became apparent to him that trading insults wouldn’t get them anywhere. Perhaps the time had come to forget what happened and figure out what to do next.
“Well, now you’ve gotten yourself way over your head,” Chase said. He hoped these words would yank Peddle back into a state of rational thinking.
Peddle grumbled. “So now what?”
“Well,” Chase said, stroking his chin in deep thought. “You could tell me about the moment you finally realized what your investors were actually up to.”
Peddle sighed and plopped down into the seat on the other side of the patio table.
“While I was taking out a bag of trash to the receptacle behind the gas station, I overheard two of them talking about how their gasoline would change people’s lives. At first, I thought they were doing something about our carbon footprint.
“But then one of them took off her hat, and I saw her with the same kind of horns all the transformed people have.” The very words made Peddle’s trembling fingers release their hold on Chase’s shirt. “I just didn’t believe their fuel had the power to actually change people physically.”
“Guess you know better now, huh?” Chase still didn’t feel much sympathy toward Peddle.
Peddle nodded. “They would’ve killed me if they didn’t need a human underling to operate the store. They were the ones who gave me the pills to prevent me from becoming a demon and blowing their cover.”
“If you hadn’t shot Brittany, I never would’ve accused you of having a spine, Peddle.”
The gas station owner balked at that comment.
“Do you know how hard it is to live with the guilt of knowing you’ve permanently ruined someone else’s life?”
Chase opened up his mouth, but only dry air burst forth from it.
“Oh, I forgot,” Peddle said, looking up again at Chase. “Of course you know all about that.”
“Tell me about the shipments you discussed with them,” Chase said, unconcerned with the sharpness of his tone. The demons had to be stopped somehow. Getting Peddle to talk seemed the only surefire way of accomplishing that.
Peddle drew in a breath, still casting a look that practically begged Chase to drop the subject altogether. Unless the gas station owner revealed every facet of the secret to Chase, he wouldn’t let the man off the hook.
“That came up a little later. See, I listened closer to what the demons were saying. One of them snickered, which caused the second one to smack the first one in the head. I didn’t know what that fuss was about.” Peddle swallowed. “When they wandered off, I followed.”
”They’d gone around the building to where the pumps were. The slapper laid into her companion again, howling in her own monstrous language at him.” Peddle pressed his palm against his forehead as if the act of remembering squeezed a fresh serving of pain into his mind. “They mimicked the act of driving, of people getting out of their cars and filling up gas tanks. When one of the demons grabbed their snout while pointing to the pump, I realized I might’ve witnessed the dawn of our end days.”
“And you didn’t think to stop them?” Chase blurted out, even more disgusted than before.
“I was in shock. I froze up.” Peddle chafed his scalp once, and then met Chase’s gaze dead on. “They were actual monsters who seemed hell-bent on destroying us. And I wasn’t carrying my revolver on me at that point.
“So I did the one thing I could think of, the one thing I do best. I ran, or tried to. I tripped ov
er my own feet trying to get away. Sure enough, I crashed to the ground and groaned loud enough for them to come running. If they hadn’t needed me, I’m sure they would’ve killed me right there and then.”
“But they let you live.” Chase scrunched his nose, sickened by the thought of Peddle’s wormy survival.
Peddle nodded, taking in a quick breath. “Their first instinct was to gut me. Before they could get their talons on me, I choked out a vow of silence. They must’ve seen my desperation to live since they supplied me with the pills.”
Chase rolled his head and shoulders, loosening every tight muscle in the top third of his body.
Peddle must’ve noticed this, for a second later he hastily added, “The demons muttered something about the pills erasing the effect of the demonized hydrocarbons in the gasoline. I didn’t quite catch the whole gist of it as they spewed out some nonsense about ‘adverse effects on olfactory sensors’.”
“I thought you said they spoke in their own language.”
Peddle’s brow couldn’t have grown any moister. “Apparently, they’re quite good at being bilingual or trilingual or something. I don’t know.”
Chase gritted his teeth. All this trouble just because one gas station weaseled his way out of death’s clutches, only to do so for the benefit of financial gain.
“When exactly did it strike you that what your buddies were doing was wrong?”
Peddle offered nothing in the form of a response. Chase ignored the urge to connect his fist with Peddle’s jaw. For one thing, Peddle wasn’t worth the effort. And secondly, thrashing on the guy wouldn’t cure the gas fume victims, or spare everyone else their lives.
“You know this leaves us with one course of action.”
Peddle trembled in his seat while Chase moved to stand. “What are we going to do?”
Chase smiled. “Firstly, Peddle, when do you expect your next shipment of gasoline?”
“Tomorrow morning, bright and early at 5:30.” Suspicion filled Peddle’s eyes. “Why?”
Chase cast another glance around the neighborhood, the segment of a town forever in ruins because of Peddle and the demons. Though Helensview and its neighboring town of Thorpe were likely lost causes, Chase could ensure no other place in the world suffered this plight.
“Sleep well, Peddle,” Chase said. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at Peddle, “for tomorrow morning is your final delivery.”