The Dark at the End (Repairman Jack) Read online

  “Sure. Rocky and me. We’re the only ones here. And no, he didn’t help cook the oatmeal. It’s just the way I talk.”

  He nodded, hoping that would end her prattle. But no …

  “If you can’t drink it yourself, I’ll spoon it into you. But if I were you, I’d try the cup. With my eyes I’ll probably miss your mouth more often than I’ll hit it.”

  He took the cup and sipped the gruel. It went down easily.

  “Ooh, look at your face,” she said, leaning close to his left cheek. “It’s all burned. Really bad.”

  That didn’t surprise him. He was probably burned to varying degrees over most of his body.

  She had her face close to the remnant of his wrist, not touching, but examining with her rheumy eyes. He disliked anyone being this close.

  “Glasses?” he said.

  “I got some—got a dozen pair, at least—but they’re not worth a damn. With this wet AMD, I can’t see a damn thing unless I get real close. And even then…”

  His weakness left him no choice but to allow her to continue her inspection.

  “I don’t see any sign of infection yet, but it’s coming. Can’t get hurt like that and not get infected. We’re going to have to get you to a doctor soon or—”

  “No…”

  “No arguing. You’ve got to have a doctor.”

  “No … please.”

  Words were agony.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Later.”

  “‘Later’? That mean you’ll explain later? Well, it better be a damn good explanation. But don’t you worry about any of that now. The phone’s still out and the storm’s still going strong. So it’s just you and me and Rocky for a while.”

  Good. That was good.

  Now she was leaning close to the electric blanket that covered him, touching it here and there.

  “Oh, dear. Look here. Some of your body burns have oozed through the blanket and dried. Ooh, it’s going to be stuck to you. That’s not good. I’ll get another blanket and we’ll try to ease that one off you.”

  He finished the oatmeal and put the cup down. With his remaining hand, he grasped the edge of the blanket and yanked it free of his skin. He gasped a few hissing breaths through clenched teeth as pain screamed through his body.

  “Oh, dear God!” she cried, backing away. “Why would you go and do a thing like that? I could have taken it off you real easy like, without all that pain.”

  Didn’t she know? Pain was good. Other people’s pain was better, but even his own pain was better than none. Pain meant he was alive. Pain would stimulate his healing powers.

  He handed her the soiled blanket and watched her hurry off to find a replacement. Then he lay back and closed his eyes. Sleep beckoned again. He answered the call.

  3

  Weezy placed the baby’s sippy cup to his lips, and once more he turned his head away.

  Gia had picked up a few of the cups last night on her run to a nearby CVS. He couldn’t chew through the mouthpiece, which was good, but he kept rejecting them. Weezy didn’t think the cup was the problem. More like its contents. Formula wasn’t doing it for him.

  At least he wasn’t screeching, but his attachment to Vicky was a bit unsettling. The four of them sat at the kitchenette table, and as long as the little girl was present, he limited himself to baby noises. But God forbid she left his sight. He sat on Weezy’s lap, but seemed largely unaware of her. He had eyes only for Vicky and watched her every move.

  “Maybe he can’t stomach formula,” Weezy said.

  What was she going to do? Dawn’s child was unique—the closest thing this world had seen to his species in millennia. Well, except for the creature she and Jack had encountered as kids; she was convinced that had been a q’qr.

  “Maybe he needs different food.”

  Gia sat across from her, sipping coffee. “We can try something solid when Jack gets back. I mean, he’s got teeth.”

  Jack had risen, made a brief appearance—they hadn’t told him about the biting incident yet—and gone out on a bagel run.

  “Maybe we don’t have to wait.”

  Weezy retrieved the loaf of bread she kept in the refrigerator—she didn’t eat much bread—and tore a length of crust from a slice.

  Gia took it and held it before the baby’s mouth. He gave it a cross-eyed look, sniffed it, then chomped—but caught Gia’s fingertip instead.

  Gia dropped the crust and sucked on her finger. “Those little teeth are sharp.”

  As they watched, he reached out a stubby, black-nailed hand and wrapped it around the crust.

  Gia shook her head. “Palm-grabbing already.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A crude form of grasping. Most babies can’t do that till they’re four months old.”

  The end of the crust was sticking out of his fist. He shoved it toward his mouth, missed, tried again, then made it on the third go. He bit off the end and chewed.

  Gia’s expression was full of wonder. “Feeding himself…”

  But after only a few chews he spit it out, letting the mush drip down his chin.

  “So much for bread,” Gia said. She looked at her scraped fingertip. “Seems to like fingers, though.”

  “He’s going to starve,” Weezy said.

  She felt responsible for Dawn’s baby, for its survival. But this was no ordinary baby. Who did she turn to? She was pretty damn sure Dr. Spock’s book had no sections on the care and feeding of q’qr babies.

  Gia didn’t look too concerned. “Usually that’s not a problem with children, even with the fussiest. As a rule, if they get hungry enough, they’ll eat. He’ll—”

  The buzzer for the downstairs entrance sounded.

  Who could that be? Jack had a key. She carried the baby to the intercom and pressed the talk button.

  “Hello?”

  “It is I.”

  Weezy knew that voice, and the recognition startled her.

  “Lady?”

  What was she doing here? They’d left her in the Pine Barrens. Even better question: How had she gotten here?

  “I wish to visit.”

  “Well, um, sure. Of course. Come up.” She buzzed the door open. “Seven-C.”

  “I know where you are.”

  Well, of course she did.

  Gia looked surprised. “The Lady … here?”

  “You’ve met?”

  Now she looked a little frazzled—Weezy had never imagined Gia’s composure could slip. “Yes … and no.”

  Weezy cocked her head toward Vicky who was playing with the Band-Aid on her finger. “Does she…?”

  Gia shook her head. “No. Better that way. Gabby-gabby, if you get my drift.”

  Weezy got it. Better that Vicky knew nothing about the Lady’s true nature, because she’d talk about her and everyone would think she was either lying or deluded.

  A few moments later she arrived, looking perfectly dry and comfortable in her short-sleeved housedress, as if she’d stepped in from a balmy spring day instead of a winter storm that was still snowing and blowing.

  Weezy felt a bit awkward introducing her as “The Lady,” but Gia already knew who she was, and Vicky … Vicky seemed unaccountably in awe of her. She stared at the Lady like the baby stared at her.

  “I believe we’ve met,” Gia said softly.

  The Lady nodded. “Yes, we have.”

  “Thank you. I know what you did … thank you.”

  “Would that I had been allowed to do more, but it was not possible.”

  Gia’s throat worked. “I know that, but…” She glanced at Vicky. “Thank you.”

  Weezy had to ask. “How did you get here from the Pines?”

  “I walked.”

  Gia blinked. “You walked? In this storm? From south Jersey?”

  “I do not feel cold or rain or wind. And to be honest, I rode much of the way.”

  Weezy had a vision of the Lady walking along the side of Route 206 with her thumb out.


  “Don’t tell me you hitched a ride?”

  “People are kind to an underdressed old woman caught in a snowstorm.” She focused her attention on the baby in Weezy’s arms. “You hold the reason for my visit. I wished to see him in person.” She leaned in for a closer look. “Interesting.”

  The scene struck a discordant note in Weezy.

  “But aren’t you aware of everyone?”

  “Only the sentient. Newborns aren’t self-aware. And this creature, even when grown, will function mostly by instinct.” The Lady leaned closer. “Where are the tentacles?”

  “Tentacles?” Gia said.

  “They appear to have been removed,” Weezy said.

  The Lady frowned. “Show me, please.”

  Weezy unsnapped his shirt and worked his left arm free. She raised it to expose the underarm area. While washing up the baby yesterday she’d looked for the tentacles and had found a healed but recent scar in each axilla.

  “If you look closely you can see a little—ohmygod!”

  Yesterday when she’d touched the scars she’d felt a little lump beneath each. Now this scar appeared to have split and something was protruding from it. Weezy remembered how Dawn had described the tentacles—“like slim little garter snakes.” This was no more than an inch long, but that was what it looked like. Or maybe a rat tail. As she watched, it curved and straightened.

  The Lady nodded, her expression impassive. “They are growing back.”

  Gia’s face was ashen.

  Vicky, who was out of the line of sight, said, “I have to go to the bathroom, Mom.”

  “Go ahead, sweetie.” Gia’s eyes were glued to the tentacle. “Go right ahead.”

  With Vicky out of sight, the baby began screeching. He fought Weezy as she tried to reinsert his arm in the sleeve, and struggled maniacally to break free from her grasp.

  The screeches were almost nonstop.

  Weezy felt ready to burst into tears. How was she going to handle this?

  “This is not good,” the Lady said, barely audible over the noise. “You cannot take care of him. As his tentacles regrow to their full length, they will be grabbing everything in sight. Your situation will soon become untenable.”

  Weezy had to admit the truth of that, but couldn’t help feeling offended.

  “Well, I can’t just throw him out on the street or give him up for adoption.”

  She’d love to pass this torch, but to whom? Ideally someone who knew the care and feeding of q’qrs. No one alive today knew that.

  The Lady stared at the baby. “Very little in this child is human. He houses more Otherness than humanity. And as such, he should be kept separate from humanity. I know you feel an obligation, a responsibility, but your greater responsibility is to humanity. You must continue your study of the Compendium.”

  Yes … the Compendium. No way she could concentrate on that or anything else with this screeching.

  “She’s right, Weezy,” Gia said, wincing at a particularly loud shriek. The noise seemed to be causing her physical pain.

  Weezy nodded. Only Vicky seemed able to quiet the baby and the girl couldn’t stay with the baby every minute. She looked at the Lady.

  “But who?”

  “I will take him.”

  The Lady caring for a child … she wasn’t even human. Then again, neither was the baby … not quite.

  “How will you manage?”

  “I know his needs. And I have my ways.” She reached out and placed her palm on the baby’s head. “Hush now. You’ve caused enough disturbance.”

  And miraculously, the baby quieted. He stopped struggling and stared at the Lady. Then he held his arms out to her. Weezy saw nothing else to do but hand him over. The Lady cradled him and he remained quiet, staring up at her face.

  “If you will give me a blanket,” she said, “I will take him to my home.”

  Some small part deep inside felt she was betraying Dawn, but the rest of her knew this was the best course—for her and for the child.

  She went to his room and returned with the blanket from his crib.

  The Lady wrapped him snugly and said, “You may visit any time you wish.”

  And then she walked out.

  Weezy felt guilty at the flood of relief when the door closed.

  Vicky returned then. “Where’s the baby?”

  “The Lady took him to her place, honey,” Gia said. “He’ll be happier there.”

  Vicky’s expression said she was pretty happy herself.

  Giving in to a need to move, Weezy wandered the room. As she passed the table where she’d left the Compendium, she noticed it was open. She knew she’d left it closed.

  She looked at Vicky. “Were you looking through this?”

  “That was me,” Gia said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  Weezy stared at the open page.

  “Was that okay?” Gia said.

  Weezy shook herself. “What? Oh, yes. Of course. It’s just that … is there any reason you left it open at this page?”

  Gia approached and looked over her shoulder. “No. I just opened it at random. I was going to flip through but then you said coffee was ready. Why?”

  “It’s the same page Vicky opened to last night.”

  The Naming Ceremony page …

  Odd. The page order in the Compendium was in constant flux—random, chaotic. Not impossible that it could open to the same page twice in a row, but the probability was low.

  She closed the book, stepped back, and said, “Do me a favor and open it again—anywhere.”

  Gia gave her a puzzled expression, then shrugged and smiled. “I remember how this book used to drive Jack nuts. He could never find anything he wanted. I’ll try near the beginning instead of the middle.” She flipped it open and stared. “Well, I’ll be.”

  Weezy checked it and felt a little tickle in her stomach. The Naming Ceremony page lay open.

  She closed it again and motioned Vicky over.

  “Hey, Vicks. Open this for me, will you? Any page you want.”

  “Sure.”

  She opened it near the middle … revealing the Naming Ceremony.

  Gia glanced at Weezy. “Looks like this old book is trying to tell you something.”

  Tell me something? Ridiculous.

  Or was it?

  4

  Ernst stormed up to the Lodge’s second floor and found two Kickers replacing the door to one of the rooms. Ernst knew whose room.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Just following orders,” one of the Kickers said. “The boss told us to—”

  “Where is he?”

  The other jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the room. “Right inside.”

  Ernst raised his black, silver-headed cane. “Out of my way! Out!”

  They scuttled to the sides, leaving him a clear path through the doorway.

  After a number of days’ absence, he’d returned to the Lodge and had been shocked to see its street façade defaced by a pair of steel window shutters on the second floor.

  He stormed into the room and found Hank Thompson staring out one of those windows.

  “The shutters must come down!”

  Thompson smiled as he turned to face him. “Morning, Drexler. How’re they hanging?”

  He was goading. Thompson seemed to take inordinate pleasure in annoying him. Well, Ernst was already annoyed—more than annoyed.

  “Remove those shutters immediately.”

  Thompson gave him a cold stare. “No.”

  “This is a historic building. You cannot deface it like this.”

  “What’s defaced? These are primo roll-up hurricane shutters. Heaviest of the heavy duty. Watch.”

  He picked up a remote, pointed it at the nearest window, and pressed a button. With a soft clatter, a ribbed steel sheet unrolled from the cylinder at the top and slid down the tracks attached to either side of the frame. He pointed the remote at the other window and the same happened, dark
ening the room.

  He grinned. “Pretty neat, huh? And if there’s a power failure, I’ve got a little gadget that lets me crank them up and down by hand.”

  “Have you gone mad? This is totally irrational. You’re on the second floor. Someone would have to put up a ladder in full view of the street and the claque of your followers who drape themselves on the front steps.”

  Thompson’s smile faltered. “What if what wants in isn’t human? What if it flies through the air?”

  Ernst stared at him. He had gone mad.

  “‘It’?”

  “The Kicker Man warned me. He hasn’t led me wrong yet.”

  Was he talking about the Change? Had he had some sort of premonition and was preparing for it?

  Ernst hoped he was wasting his time, hoped that Jack, the man Thompson hated so fiercely, had succeeded in stopping the One.

  “So don’t waste your breath telling me to undo this. It stays.”

  Ernst turned toward the new door. “And this?”

  “Steel. With a big bar across it. The walls are stone, two feet thick on the outside, a foot on the inside.” He looked around, nodding. “Yep, I’ll be safe here.”

  Ernst saw no point in continuing the conversation, so he walked out.

  Where was the One? Alive? Dead? He wished he could call Jack.

  5

  Jack turned away from the Lady’s window and faced the occupants of the room. He’d taken Gia and Vicky home from Weezy’s, then returned here.

  “Storm’s done. You’re sure he’s still alive?”

  Both Glaeken and the Lady nodded from their customary places at the table. Weezy was in her place too, the Compendium open before her. And next to her, a new face: Eddie.

  Under different circumstances, Jack would have been amused at his reaction to seeing Mrs. Clevenger alive and well, and finally meeting the mysterious “Mr. Foster.” Even though Weezy had prepared him, he’d been awestruck.

  Over in the corner, Dawn’s baby, confined in a playpen, contentedly chewed on a bone—a freaking soup bone.

  When Eddie had seen him he’d whispered a simple, “Jesus.”

  At least he hadn’t done a Kramer.

  Glaeken said, “And slowly, very slowly, growing stronger.”