Crucible of Fire Page 8

  Harvey was pretty sure he was close to the fire’s edge now. Gary was the one who had pointed out the darkness on the other side of the fire, and the flames seemed like they’d been thinning out. The smoke, though, was still thick enough to cut with a knife.

  Harvey figured he could get out of the fire, off of the hill, and out of Ashland before anyone was the wiser. People would just assume, when he didn’t show up, that he’d gotten lost in the wildfire and died. They’d look for his body, but they couldn’t expect to find it, right? The fire was huge and the area it covered was immense. Rescue workers might look, but they wouldn’t really expect to find him.

  They’d probably find other bodies on the hill, though. That would add to the confusion. Vagrants who’d crawled up on the hill to die. Murder victims would be there, too. The forest was a good place to drop a body. Hikers found the body of that homeless guy who played with sock puppets in 2008. He’d been burned up in a camp in Lithia Park. And that had been from a localized fire, not this huge beast rampaging through the forest now.

  Harvey Lombard would just disappear in the fire and Bodeen could go whistle for that forty thousand dollars. Harvey would reinvent himself, get a new identity. There were sites on the Internet where you could do that. And there were people you could get fake papers from, good enough to get a job somewhere.

  Harvey would get by. He didn’t have to live like a king. He never had. And he would stay out of casinos. He told himself he could do that, and he kept running from that life to the next one.

  Then something hit him in the head so hard that the whole side of his face went numb and it felt like a nuke went off in his skull. He lurched to the side, no longer able to control his legs.

  Vision blurred, nausea welling into a mossy ball in the pit of his stomach and bubbling up sourly in the back of his throat. Harvey rolled over onto his back and looked up. Scott loomed over him, and his brother’s rictus of a smile was shown in double vision. His brother wore an expression that Harvey had never before seen. It reminded Harvey of that look Jack Nicholson had in The Shining.

  Here’s Scotty!

  Looking totally at ease but as mad as a hatter, Scott held a pry bar in one hand. Harvey figured that must have been what his brother had hit him with, and if it was, he didn’t know how he was still alive.

  “Scott? What the hell did you do that for?” Harvey cradled his head gently, afraid that he was going to find his skull in pieces.

  “Man, you’ve got a hard head,” Scott snarled. He made a show of examining the pry bar, looking for dents or nicks.

  Tears ran down Harvey’s face, but he kept the groans of pain to himself. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his little brother. “You could have killed me with that.”

  Scott nodded. “I tried, big brother. Gave it everything I had. But don’t worry. I haven’t given up yet.” He took a fresh grip on the pry bar. “Just gimme a minute. I’ll tee up again.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Guess who called me just before we climbed aboard that helicopter tonight?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bodeen. The casino guy.”

  “Why did he call you?”

  “Because you owe him forty thousand dollars, big brother. You’re in the hole to him. Again.” A maniacal gleam lit Scott’s eyes. “You’re bound and determined to drag this family into the sewer. Dad worked his ass off for years to build something he could give to us. Us! Only there isn’t any us. Angie went off and married that loser she hooked up with, then came back with her hand out, another flea on the dog’s balls that you guys are trying to turn my life into.”

  “We’re not trying to do anything to you.”

  “But you are. Dad and I have busted our asses for years on our business. Despite the economy going tits up, we managed to hang on. Until we had to pay your gambling debts last time. Then we were hanging on by our fingernails and dragging Angie behind us, supporting her, too.”

  “Angie works.”

  “Yeah, damned hard for a girl.” Scott shook damp, limp hair out of his eyes. “There’s no room in this business for girls and losers. Lombard Lumber is gonna be running lean and mean if it’s gonna survive, and I’m gonna make sure it survives. I figure if you get killed out here tonight, the insurance money we get from you dying will allow us to get some new equipment, set up for some new logging contracts. Take the heat off.”

  “That’s what I’m planning on doing, Scott—dying. I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  Scott blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was on my way out of here, gonna leave town and let everybody think I was dead. You and Dad could collect the insurance.”

  “No. That wouldn’t have worked. Without a body, the insurance agency would be slow to pay off. Could be years before we see any of that money. We need it now.” Scott grinned. “It’ll be much better if they have a body. That way they know you’re dead.”

  The flames crept closer, lighting up the sky over Scott’s head.

  “Besides,” Scott said, “if you go off someplace, you’ll be back. Turn up like a bad penny. Just like Angie. And you’ll have your hand out just like she does.” He shook his head again, droplets of sweat flicking off. “No way am I letting you out of here.”

  Harvey couldn’t move. It was like the blow had paralyzed him. More than that, though, he knew he deserved whatever Scott was going to dish out. Even if he killed him. He suddenly realized that he didn’t need to fake his death—he just needed to die.

  “All right, Scott. When you’re right, you’re right. And you’re right. So go ahead. Do it.” Miraculously, Harvey pushed himself up to his knees and sat there swaying.

  Teeth bared in a feral rat’s grin, Scott drew the pry bar back.

  11

  Hanging low over the four-wheeler’s handlebars, Angie blew through a tangle of low-hanging branches that were burning merrily. Matt followed her, feeling the branches slap painfully against him. Embers swirled and flames danced in front of him, temporarily blinding him.

  Then Angie’s brake light flared brightly in front of him. Matt hit the brakes and swerved to the side to miss her as she skidded to a stop. Then she abandoned the four-wheeler and took off running, screamed so loud that Matt could hear her through the enclosed helmet and over the roar of the wildfire.

  Twenty paces ahead of her, Harvey Lombard sat on his knees in front of his brother Scott. It took Matt a second to realize that Scott was holding a length of metal in his hands, looking like a baseball power hitter about to swing for the fences.

  “Scott!” Angie ran hard. “Scott! Don’t!”

  Matt abandoned his four-wheeler and sprinted for the two men. Scott and Harvey both looked like they were rotting. Cancerous sores covered their faces and exposed skin. Scott’s eyes gleamed like a lighted jack-o’-lantern’s, only with a scarlet glow streaming from inside.

  “Stay back, Angie,” Harvey said. “Scott’s gotta do this. I deserve it.”

  “He’s been at the casino again, Angie,” Scott said. “That guy Bodeen called again. Harvey’s in to him for forty thousand dollars. We can’t afford—”

  Not hesitating, Angie threw herself at Scott, taking him to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Matt was right behind her, managing to grab Harvey as he got up and went after his sister.

  Harvey came around with a big right hand. Matt ducked under the blow and sank his left fist into Harvey’s stomach, driving it to the wrist. The air left Harvey’s lungs in a rush and he started to bend over, meeting Matt’s right fist in an uppercut that straightened him back out.

  Angie screamed in pain. Scott had her hair in his fist and had managed to extricate himself. He reached for the pry bar lying nearby on the ground.

  As Harvey toppled backward, Matt dropped his left foot on the pry bar, then kicked Scott in the face with his right foot. Scott howled in pain and rolled over onto his side, dazed.

  Getting to her feet, An
gie stared in disbelief at her brothers. “What’s wrong with them?”

  Matt picked up the pry bar. “I don’t know.” He wasn’t going to try to explain Mr. Dark to her right now, and there wasn’t time. He could feel Mr. Dark closer than ever to him.

  Although they were dazed and half out of it, Scott and Harvey lurched for each other. They threw punches and snarled curses, struggling to get to their feet.

  “No.” Desperately, Angie shook her head. She leaned down closer to Scott and Harvey. “Just stop!”

  Matt slammed a fist into the jaw of each brother and they stretched out unconscious.

  A bizarre figure caught Matt’s attention on the other side of the brothers. Mr. Dark stood there holding a marshmallow on a roasting stick above the nearby flames. He was dressed in a park ranger uniform, but it was unmistakably him.

  “Hiya, Matt. Knew we’d bump into each other again.” Mr. Dark gazed up with wonderment at the wildfire. “Not exactly a small event, but I knew we’d find each other.” He looked back at the three Lombard siblings. Angie was checking her unconscious brothers. “I know the plot on this one seems kind of overdone, like a corpse that’s been left in the fire too long, but hey, it’s an oldie but a goodie. Brother kills brother? C’mon, that’s been around since the Old Testament, but it still plays good. Am I right?”

  Matt gripped the pry bar in both hands.

  “You broke it up just as it was getting good. Another few seconds, maybe Scotty would have kicked himself after seeing what he did to his big brother.” Mr. Dark swiveled the marshmallow from the fire over to Matt. “Treat?”

  Burned black nearly all over, looking like a pierced lump of coal, the marshmallow nevertheless seethed with crawling worms that looked like liquid fire.

  Matt stepped between Mr. Dark and the Lombards, ignoring the proffered marshmallow. “You’re not getting these people.”

  Mr. Dark plucked the marshmallow from the end of the stick and popped it—wriggling—into his mouth. He chewed, openmouthed, the fire worms crawling through his bad teeth and showing off his diseased gums.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing. More for me.”

  Then he disappeared. Only his mocking laughter and the last gleam of that nasty smile remained.

  “Matt?” Angie looked up at him in concern. “Who are you talking to?”

  Keeping the pry bar at the ready, Matt shook his head. “Long story and we don’t have time for it.” He looked down at Harvey and Scott. Both men were still unconscious, and both of them looked decidedly less leprous and rotting. Maybe it wasn’t too late for them. “We need to get out of here.”

  “We can’t leave them.”

  “We’re not leaving them.” Matt ran back to his four-wheeler and took out the rope he’d grabbed from the pickup. Working quickly, he cut lengths of rope and tied Scott’s and Harvey’s hands behind their backs and bound their feet.

  “What are you doing?” Angie asked.

  “Making sure they can’t hurt us or each other.”

  Angie clearly wasn’t happy about the situation.

  “It’s the best we can do, Angie. Let’s get them on the four-wheelers.”

  Quietly, she did as he told her.

  12

  Hot and sweaty in the fire proximity suit, almost certain he was lost again, Freddy spotted a clearing ahead and decided he’d take a breather. He pulled the ice chest through a gap between the trees and stepped into the clearing, which wasn’t as clear as he’d thought.

  A burning branch lay across a dead man and the stench of burning flesh and cooking fat was almost enough to make him puke. The old guy under the branch was burned black in places, and blood boiled and sizzled where the flames licked at him like an old dog working a bone.

  A few feet away, another old man lay still and pale gray in the grass.

  Tired, Freddy reached into the ice chest and hauled out another beer. Then he cracked it open and sat on the chest, contemplating the two men in front of him. As near as he could figure, the old bastard under the branch had just been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Got pinned under the falling branch and just burned up.

  It was a bad way to go, all right, but Freddy didn’t care. It wasn’t him.

  He drank his beer and peered due south, thinking he was closer to the outer perimeter of the fire than he’d been since it started. The sky was darker in places, like the fire above was thinning out.

  Something moved along the tree line.

  Carefully, Freddy traded hands with his beer and picked up the flamethrower wand in his right hand as two shadows separated from the darkness and came forward.

  “Ease off, there, Quick Draw. Those are friends of mine.” Ranger Faron Hight was suddenly standing beside Freddy. The ranger pulled out a lollipop and offered it. “Pop?”

  “Sure.” Freddy took the treat, unwrapped it, and shoved it into his mouth, surprised again at how much better it made beer taste. The wriggling sensation along his tongue and sinus cavities was really something, though. He wasn’t ever going to get used to that.

  Watching the shadows, he decided that they belonged to men, but they didn’t move like men. They moved more like… animals, rodents of some kind, starting and stopping in herky-jerky motion to scent the air. “You’re sure those are friends of yours?”

  “I’m positive. Been waiting for them. They sure have taken their sweet time.” The ranger stuck a lollipop into his mouth, then reached into the ice chest and retrieved a beer. “These guys take a little getting used to, but you’re gonna love them. Real go-getters.”

  One large man and one small man stepped into the light. They saw the burned body before them and started their chainsaws, then dug the blades into the old man’s corpse. Burned meat and blood shredded all over them.

  “Dude, that’s gross,” Freddy said.

  “That’s Big Mort and Timmons for you,” the ranger said with a big smile. “But they have their uses. Right now, they—and the others—are yours to command because you’re wearing the badge.” He reached out and tapped the badge he’d given Freddy.

  The badge must have soaked up some residual heat, because it suddenly felt hot against Freddy’s chest. He squirmed inside the fire proximity suit. “What others? I just see two guys.”

  Big Mort and Timmons came to a halt in front of Freddy, both of them towering over him but standing there like they were awaiting orders. That was kind of cool.

  “Those.” The ranger pointed as a dozen other shadows stepped out of the trees. “That’s your army, Ranger Freddy. Make the most of them.” He patted Freddy on the shoulder. “I’m counting on you.”

  “Sweet.” Inside the suit, Freddy was grinning. He’d never been put in charge of anything. Not even the room pet back in fourth grade. When he’d seen how Mrs. Taylor was gonna do that, make sure that Freddy never got to take the rabbit home for the weekend, Freddy had stolen it one evening, covered it in gasoline, and burned it till it was crispy, then put it back in the cage for everyone to find the next morning. That had been when he’d found out he liked fire.

  The other people who joined Freddy were cops and fire fighters, but there were a few people who looked like they’d walked out of their backyards. One of the men had a weed whacker. A woman in an apron had a meat fork in each hand. Another man carried a golf putter. All of them looked mean and hungry.

  Freddy turned to the ranger. “What am I supposed to do with them?”

  “There’s a guy coming here in a minute. The guy with the ax that I told you about. Remember?”

  Freddy nodded. He did remember. Sort of.

  “When he gets here, I want you to kill him. Give ’im a squirt and set him on fire.”

  “No problem. I’ll torch his face off.”

  “Good.” The ranger turned his head to the side. “Ahhhh, do you hear that?”

  Freddy listened, then picked out the sound of approaching engines. “Somebody’s coming this way?”

  “Yes, but not just someb
ody.” The ranger smiled again, bigger than ever. “This is the star of our little midsummer night’s tragedy.”

  A man on a four-wheeler roared into the clearing. His lights swept over the crowd standing around Freddy and he applied his brakes. Another four-wheeler braked to a halt behind him. Both of the four-wheelers had bodies draped across the back of them.

  The ranger stepped away from Freddy and put on a showman’s voice, like he was announcing a monster truck rally. “Ta-da! Welcome to my tailgate party, Matt! It’s gonna be a scorcher!” He turned back to Freddy, shielding his mouth with a hand. “Kill this guy for me, Freddy, and I’ll make sure every twisted little dream of arson you’ve ever had will come true.”

  “Really?” Freddy grinned. “Because while I’ve been walking, I’ve been thinking of a lot of stuff I’d like to burn. I’ve got a to-do list as long as my arm.” His mind had literally danced with all the mayhem he wanted to cause.

  “Well, start here. Throw another corpse on the pyre, buddy. Then we’ll move on to the high school.”

  “I mention that to you?” Freddy didn’t think so, but he couldn’t quite remember all the conversations he’d had with the ranger.

  “No, but I know how your mind works.” The ranger tapped Freddy’s badge with his forefinger and Freddy felt the heat again. “You and I are very simpatico, firebug.” He pointed back at the guy riding the four-wheeler. “Give ’im a squirt!”

  “Dad!”

  Angie’s anguished cry startled Matt as he gazed at the group of people blocking the way ahead of him. All the men and women there were oozing pus from open sores, crawling with vile things that slithered or crept or undulated. It was a nightmare lineup, and he recognized Big Mort and Timmons standing just behind the silver-suited figure holding some kind of blowtorch.

  Now Matt knew what these wildfires were. A bright, shiny lure. Mr. Dark led him here to trap him deep in the middle of a wildfire with an army of crazed killers, to get rid of him once and for all.