Cannibal Jack, page 23
She thumbed open her phone, realizing that the video would at least give her a direction. There were only two directions to go in, so that would be a huge advantage. The grainy video showed Jack running south rather than north, so Barbara did an abrupt about-face and ran in that direction. She shoved the phone deep into the pocket of her skirt and pushed herself to go faster.
“Shannon!” she called out once, and then listened.
Surely Shannon would be screaming. Surely she would have the sense to call back to her mother.
“Where are you?”
No answer. Had he knocked her out so she would be quiet? Or had she fainted under the stress? Barbara froze, listened to every sound she heard. The bastard was fast, and he was quiet. Barbara had no clue which way to go, so she ran forward until she reached a branch in the sewer lines.
Turning to the right, she cupped her hands to her mouth and screamed. “Shan-non!”
Nothing.
Turning to the left, she did the same.
Still nothing.
Barbara started to cry. Her little girl was counting on her to save her from that monster and here she couldn’t even tell which direction to go in. Images of Shannon as a baby flashed before her mind’s eye. Then Shannon starting school. Shannon in the hospital after the first time her father had beaten her. Shannon in Girl Scouts. Shannon playing piano. Shannon in the spelling bee.
Barbara screamed as long and as loud as she could, almost to the point where she passed out. The sound of it echoed down both passageways and back to her. It came back from the left side first, and more muffled. Barbara ran that way.
Mark had had two Scotch-rocks already and was primed for a third. Something about facing his own evil side made him want to drink. A lot. But his phone chimed, and he reached for it first. He was the big man, after all, the top banana.
“Margie?”
“Sheriff, Cannibal Jack just took Shannon Connolly from her house. Her mother and Officer Keene are headed into the sewers after them.”
He didn’t let her get out another word. “Get every officer we have. Drag them off cases, out of bed. I want everybody down on Oak Street now. I’m on my way.”
He shut off the phone and pocketed it. Funny how a thing like this could sober him up so fast.
“What is it?” Frank asked.
“Cannibal Jack just took Barbara Connolly’s daughter into the sewers. I have to go.”
Mark was on automatic pilot now. He strapped on his belt, holstered his service revolver, and grabbed a shotgun and some shells out of the closet. Fuck the gear, fuck the fear. He was going to end this now.
He was out the door and hit the ground moving faster than any man his size had the right to move. The car tires spit up gravel as he tore out of the driveway and down the street toward Oak. Just as he hit the button for his lights and siren, he heard sirens coming from every part of town.
When he hit Oak Street, the houses were bathed in an undulating wash of blue light. Police cars lined the streets, some at an angle. Neighbors had come out to watch, hugging themselves tightly and looking grim.
Half the officers were putting on their gear, the other half were gathered around the hole, prepared to go in. Mark grabbed his flashlight and marched on the men by the hole.
“Listen up, everybody,” he announced loudly. “I want everybody in that sewer. Work in pairs, no man alone. Half of you head north and the other half south. Remember, this bastard can move along the ceiling if he has to, so watch your heads. And he’s fast. He’s fast and he’s strong and he’s vicious. Above all, we have to find that girl and her mother. If you have a chance to kill that thing, great. But the primary mission is to keep that girl safe. There will be no loss of life tonight, boys. Now, get in that hole!”
Mark watched them go in, saying a little prayer. They were all terrified. Hell, he was terrified. And not just of Cannibal Jack.
Barbara felt hope slipping away. All reason had left her. As she came to each new branch turning off the main passage, she ran down that branch as fast as she could, returning to run down the next. There had been no sign, no sound from Shannon in almost twenty minutes. Panic had set in.
As she moved closer to the more densely populated parts of town, the branches became more frequent, and they spawned even more branches. Barbara stopped for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Until that second, she hadn’t noticed the stench. The adrenaline and fear had kept her from smelling it.
She started to cry. There were miles and miles of sewers down there and it would take hours to search them all. Then it dawned on her. She still had that tracking app on hers and Shannon’s phones. She had insisted on it. Kids get abducted all the time and even good kids can get in trouble and need help. She thumbed open her phone and tapped the app. Her position showed up and, after a few seconds, the icon for Shannon’s phone popped up, too.
“Gotcha!” she said with a toothy grin.
The app showed Shannon just several hundred yards ahead of her and to the left. Barbara headed in that direction as fast as she could.
Keene thought his heart might burst out of his chest. He was in good shape but the mixture of fear, worry, and enormous physical exertion had beaten him down.
How had Barbara gotten so far ahead of him? He had gone into that manhole less than a minute after she had. Even Cannibal Jack had only had a two-minute head start on him. And yet, there was no sign of any of them. How was it possible?
He recalled the day that Jack had somehow gotten past him and Mark but this time, Jack couldn’t hide or sneak overhead. He had a hundred-pound girl with him. Even on the off chance that he could keep her quiet, he had zero chance of carrying her overhead or of concealing both their bodies in a tiny space.
“Barbara?” he called. Then, more loudly, “Shannon!”
No response.
He forged ahead, playing his light over every surface in the tunnel. He thought of the proverbial needle in a haystack and groaned.
Barbara trotted down the tunnel, her boots sloshing in the water. They had long since started to leak and her feet were soaked, but she didn’t care. Shannon was a mere fifty feet in front of her now, or so the app said.
Forty feet and Barbara began playing her light over the ground.
Thirty feet and Barbara was struck by the realization that she was tracking only Shannon’s phone, not Shannon herself. If she was only thirty feet away, she would see her by now.
Twenty feet and Barbara slowed, searching the ground and the water for the errant phone.
Ten feet. Barbara started to cry.
“Damn it!” she screamed to the universe.
The phone must have slipped out of Shannon’s pocket and landed somewhere here in the tunnel. Barbara searched more carefully, looking for the glint of light reflecting off the phone’s screen.
There! Just at the edge of the mucky water lay Shannon’s phone. Barbara stooped to pick it up, shaking the moisture off as she stood. There was a little ding on one corner of the back, but the screen was intact and lit up when she swiped it. She didn’t have the password to fully open the phone but at least it still worked. Something to make Shannon happy when she came home.
“Where are you?” Barbara bellowed, the effort of it doubling her over and making her shake.
As if by answer, a long, agonized scream came from one of the tunnels up ahead.
Barbara followed the sound at a dead run.
Mark had gone into that hole without reservation. This was his mess and he meant to clean it up. All those years of wondering what had happened to Dewey and there was only one way to find out: Find Cannibal Jack and make him talk.
If he could talk. Who knew what that beast was capable of? He was fast and strong, that much was for sure. But was he smart? Had his inbred parentage damaged his brain as well as his body? Or did he have at least some of his faculties intact?
Mark slogged along the tunnel. Behind him, he heard the other men, searching, branching out, spreading out, calling out. He said a little prayer that none of them would get hurt. He said a longer prayer that they would find Shannon before she could be hurt…or worse.
He kept as quiet as he could instead of calling out because he feared the monster might panic if he thought they were getting close. He might run off with Shannon again. Or maybe he would kill her and run just to avoid capture. No, it was better if he could sneak up on Jack, get the drop on him. That way, he at least had a small leg up on killing the bastard before he could hurt Shannon.
He walked at the edge of the water to minimize noise. His revolver was in its holster, the holster unsnapped. Mark was pretty damn quick on the draw when he needed to be. He trusted his instincts and his ability to get a bullet into Jack before he got a tooth into Shannon.
But God alone knew just how much reason was left in old Jack’s brain. Would he even realize that he was in danger, that they would kill him? Did he even want to avoid capture? Or was he running on pure animal instinct? Mark sure hoped not because that would mean that he’d taken Shannon as food and that meant….
Mark heard muffled voices coming from just up ahead and to his right. He couldn’t make them out, but he knew they couldn’t be his officers. The officers were behind him by a good bit, searching side tunnels and branches.
Mark sped up, followed the sounds. His hand reached down mechanically, drawing his weapon before he even made the conscious effort to do so.
The voice was female. He could tell that much as he crept up to the mouth of that branch.
Shannon.
Mark rounded the corner and stood in the tunnel, playing his light over the walls and ceiling.
There!
At the very end of the tunnel was Shannon, plastered against the wall and hugging herself. She was shaking so hard that Mark could see it from where he stood. Shining his light a little to the left and….
I’ve got you now, you bastard!
Mark took two steps forward. “Shannon, you okay?”
“Y-y-yeah. I think.” Her teeth chattered a bit.
Mark moved forward two more steps. “Don’t move, Jack. Just let the girl go and I won’t hurt you.”
In response, Cannibal Jack leaned forward, dropped open his enormous, angled jaw, and screamed rage at Mark.
Mark looked at the beast, his skin thin and blue-tinted, his jaw, obviously broken many times. The jagged, pointed teeth. The claws. Those cold blue eyes.
Realization hit Mark like a cast iron frying pan. The flashlight in his left hand started to shake, strobing the light on and off of Jack’s face.
“Dewey?” It sounded like a prayer, all full of wonderment and pleading.
In response, Cannibal Jack blinked and tilted his head. It was the first time anyone had used his given name in decades. He whimpered.
Mark couldn’t wrap his head around that bit of reality. But there it was, plain as day. The photos Dewey had managed to take and Jake had given him were of the original Cannibal Jack, who had had brown eyes. Dewey’s eyes were blue. And when Barbara had encountered Jack inside her kitchen wall, she had stabbed him. This beast bore no sign of such a wound.
“There are two of you. But…how?”
Dewey groaned. He made a gargling sound in the back of his throat.
Mark straightened himself and shored up his waning courage. “Please let Shannon go. She’s Barbara’s daughter. Your niece….”
Dewey tried to form words, but they came out like, “Bah-bah.”
“Yes. Your sister, Barbara. It’s her daughter and you don’t want to hurt her. I’m the one you want anyway. Not her. It’s my fault, all of it. You can do whatever you want to me, Dewey, but don’t hurt Shannon.”
“What did you just say?” Barbara had come into the tunnel unnoticed by anyone but Shannon, who was frozen in the one square foot in which she stood.
Mark forgot everything else and, startled, he half turned to face Barbara. “Jesus Christ!” Mark paled enough that it was noticeable even in the dim light of two flashlights. “I’m so sorry, Barbara.”
“Sorry about what, Mark? That you found my daughter or that you haven’t killed that thing yet?” Her face was set in stone as she looked him dead in the eye. Suddenly, she turned toward Dewey and Shannon and her face softened. “Shannon, baby, are you okay?”
She nodded vehemently and rubbed her arms. “I’m okay, Mom. He didn’t hurt me.”
Barbara nodded and turned back to Mark. “Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot that bastard and let’s get Shannon out of here.”
Mark shrank under her glare. “I-I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” She was yelling now, fully ready to grab the gun from him and shoot the beast.
“Because…it’s…it’s Dewey.”
Barbara’s eyes shot wide open, and she stared at him for a long beat, a gaze intense enough that it made Mark flinch. Then she looked at the monster, her eyes and memory searching. “That…monster…that thing can’t be my brother. My brother died when I was just a little girl.” She shook her finger in the direction of Dewey and grimaced. “That thing can’t be my brother.”
“No. Dewey didn’t die.”
“What?”
“He didn’t die. He got left behind. And it’s all my fault.” There were tears in Mark’s eyes and he tried to choke them back. “But that is Dewey.”
Barbara took two steps forward. Mark tried to stop her, but she ripped his hand off her arm and shoved it hard. “Dewey?”
Dewey tilted his head to one side and hunkered down a bit, reaching out with one open hand and moaning. “Bah-bah.”
Barbara gasped and the tears started to flow. In her hand, the flashlight shook hard. Her eyes pierced his, searching for humanity, for some sign of the sweet little boy she had known. “Dewey,” she said softly. She reached one hand slowly out, fingers stretching until, trembling, they touched his cheek.
Dewey pressed his open hand to hers and rested his face on it. His eyes closed and he seemed enraptured by the moment. The touch of another human. The tenderness of family. Tears leaked out from the corners of his tightly closed eyes, and he whimpered.
“Oh, my God!” she whispered. “What did they do to you?”
Together, they both wept uncontrollably now. Barbara’s hand was wet with Dewey’s tears, and she raised her other arm to swipe away her own with her sleeve. As she did so, the flashlight came up and swung around, shining straight into Dewey’s face.
Dewey shrieked and scuttled away, bearing his teeth and backing all the way to the wall, where he shielded his face with one arm and pressed his free hands into Shannon’s chest.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Look, I’ll point it at the ground, okay?” Barbara aimed the flashlight at the ground, her eyes pleading. “See? No more light. Please. I won’t do it again.”
Dewey lowered his arm and seemed to relax a bit.
Barbara nodded slowly and smiled her approval. “That’s right. Now, please, please, let my baby girl go. Let her come to her Mama.” She sank to her knees on the hard, wet ground and held out one shaking hand. “I’m begging you, Dewey. Just let my baby come to me. Then we can all get out of here and we can get you some help.”
Dewey shook his head and bared his teeth a little.
“We can be a family again. Just like we were meant to be.”
For a brief moment, it looked as though Dewey would go along with it. He seemed to soften whenever he chanced a look at Barbara or Shannon. Then something took him over, some brutality he couldn’t control and couldn’t deny. Without looking back, he wrapped his clawed fingers around Shannon’s throat and let out the most horrifying shriek Barbara had ever heard.
“No, no, no! Please don’t hurt her.” Barbara swallowed hard and stood slowly. “Take me. You can have me, and I’ll stay with you forever if you just let Shannon go. Please.”
Dewey didn’t even pretend to think this over. He turned to Shannon and growled, then whipped his head back in Barbara’s direction and bellowed his rage.
“Dewey!” Mark yelled from behind Barbara. “That’s enough. Your sister never did anything to you. I’m the one you want. I left you behind in that basement. I caused all of this. This is between you and me and nobody else, so why don’t you let your sister and your niece go and you can do whatever the hell you want with me.”
That was all it took. Dewey released Shannon’s throat and grabbed her arm, hauling her around in front of him and then giving her a shove.
Shannon didn’t waste a second. She leaped forward and ran the few feet into her mother’s waiting arms.
Barbara clutched her tight, sobbing tears of joy that soaked her shirt and her hair and left her hiccupping for air.
“Go!” Mark said without looking back. “Get out of here and get Shannon some help.”
“What about…?” Barbara began.
“Just go. Whatever he does to me, I’ve got it coming.”
Barbara forced Shannon to turn around and pulled her toward the main tunnel.
Behind them, there was a roar of rage and a huge thud as Dewey and Mark hit the ground. The gun, now set free from Mark’s hand, clattered to the ground and spun past both women. Out of instinct, Barbara snatched it up, and out of curiosity she turned around. Mark was flat on his back in the water, Dewey atop him. Dewey lunged and gnashed his teeth as Mark tried to fend him off, his hand on Dewey’s throat and the other one searching for the lost gun that wasn’t there.
Barbara always thought she could only kill a man if her children were threatened. She always thought that it would give her pause, a little introspection before she actually pulled the trigger.
She was wrong.
The gun went off and for a second after that, the only sound in the tunnels was the echo of that shot. Then, as Barbara watched, Dewey’s head lolled, and he fell forward onto Mark.
Mark shoved Dewey’s body off him and spun over and up. “What did you do?” he said to Barbara.
Her face was ruined. Tears tracked down her ruddy cheeks and her eyes fluttered uncontrollably. The gun, now hanging uselessly from her lowered hands, suddenly slipped free and hit the floor. And she just kept shaking her head.
