“Yeah.” Larry was blinking rapidly. “Well, not all of them at once.”
“Really?” Alex and Tom looked at each other, and then Alex said, “How many didn’t?”
“Three. A couple kids changed right away and then the others started maybe half a day later. One kid didn’t show signs for almost two days.”
“Was there any pattern?” asked Alex. “Like age or—”
“No. The first two killed Harriet … she taught advanced bio. She was early sixties, I think. Her husband, Frank, was already dead.”
“What happened then?” Tom asked.
Larry looked almost angry. “What do you think? We ran like hell, me and Marlene and the other kids. Took us a couple days to get out of the woods. The wild ones followed us and got one of the kids who hadn’t turned that very first night. It was awful, and we couldn’t … there wasn’t anything we could do.” Larry’s voice cracked. “My daughter, Deidre, was the only kid to make it out, but once we got to the bus, Marlene took off. Just scrambled on, locked the door, and drove out.” He shook his head. “That bus was so old, I probably rode it when I was a kid. That’s the only reason she was able to drive off, too. And she always said district budget cuts never did anyone a lick of good.”
“And she just left you?”
“She wouldn’t take Dee, and I wouldn’t leave without her, so.” He spread his hands. “Here I am. You’re the first young people I’ve seen pass through. I knew there had to be some left. There was just too much variability in who changed when.”
“Does anyone know why it’s happening at all?” asked Tom.
“I teach high school biology. I sure as hell don’t know. Maybe brain chemistry, or something about hormones.” Larry’s eyes slid away again, but not before Alex caught another surge of that solvent nip.
Then she had it: what he was hiding. “Larry, where’s your daughter?”
For a moment, she thought Larry would try to lie. In the end, he just looked defeated.
“This way.” Larry inclined his head toward the bathrooms. “You should probably make sure the little girl stays put.”
Well, Alex thought as her gaze roved over the handicapped stall, at least we know who took the rope from those flagpoles.
Larry had used the handicapped stall for obvious reasons. It was bigger, and there were the rails, which were handy for restraining someone. Either the girl was asleep or, more likely, unconscious, judging from the crust of blood caking the left side of the girl’s head. Her hands were bound behind her back, and more rope was looped around her middle, which Larry had then tied off around a rail.
The dead meat stink was very strong now.
“Deidre,” said Larry. His lips trembled, and he rubbed at them with one shaking hand. “She’s only thirteen. I don’t blame Marlene, I really don’t. Not after what we saw. But I couldn’t leave Dee. I only hit her the one time, when she came after me. That was enough, though. I know I can’t …” His voice firmed. “The change might not be permanent.”
Tom touched the old man’s shoulder. “How long has she been like this, Larry?”
“Out of control? Only the last four, five days, but the change started about two, three weeks ago, I guess. She started complaining about not feeling right. Lost her appetite and her mood changed and then … well, she’s a little bit of a late bloomer. That’s all I thought it was.”
The confusion was clear on Tom’s face, but Alex understood. Late bloomer. Her eyes found a battered white napkin dispenser hung from one wall, its cover open to reveal a stack of small, gray cardboard boxes. Larry must’ve broken it open. “She started her period.”
“First time. She got worse about three days after, and that was maybe a week ago.” Slow tears trickled into the deep rills on either side of Larry’s nose. “Now she’s only getting weaker. She’ll drink, but anything solid I get into her mouth, she spits out. The last couple times I got close, she’s tried to bite …” He skimmed tears from his face with the back of his hand. “Breaks my heart, you know? In some ways, she’s still kind of a typical teenager. Like always waking up just when I’m ready to sleep. She’ll stay up all night and only nod off again a couple hours after sunrise.”
Hormonal changes. Puberty? Alex stared down at the unconscious girl. Her periods had completely stopped over a year ago. A side effect of her many rounds of chemo, or the monster itself—Barrett didn’t know which.
And how did hormones or puberty explain Tom? He was her age, way past puberty. And what about boys in general? Since boys and girls were different, hormones couldn’t be the only reason—could they?
“Larry,” Tom said, “I’m sorry, but we can’t take her with us.” He wasn’t brutal about it, just factual. “Even if this might turn itself around, we don’t know that.”
“I know. I wasn’t going to ask. Everyone who comes through takes one look and then it’s”—Larry wiped the air with one
hand—“adiós, muchachos.”
“You could come with us,” Alex said.
“I’m not leaving my daughter. The hell of it is she might not die if I let her go, but that would mean she’d go after—” Larry swallowed. “I can’t do that either.”
Tom asked, “What do you want, Larry?”
“I can’t …” Larry took a weak swipe at the air with the bat. “I can’t do that. But you have guns. I’m not asking you to, you understand, but I only need two.”
“Two what?” asked Alex.
“Larry,” said Tom, “there’s no need for you to do this. I could—”
“Two what?” Alex repeated, and then she got it. “No, Tom, you can’t give him—”
“No.” Larry put a hand on Tom’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You seem like a fine young man, and I appreciate it, I do. But there are some things you’re still too young for. She’s my daughter. If anyone does this, it should be me.” After a brief silence, Larry added, “Please don’t make me beg.”
Tom studied Larry a moment longer, then reached around for the Sig and withdrew it from its holster.
“Tom,” Alex said.
Tom did not reply. Instead, he quickly jacked out the magazine, popped out every bullet except one, then reseated the clip.