Backtracker (101 page)

He wanted to make it happen; he wanted to make it happen
now
.
He considered nullifying the countdown, discharging the weapon with no further postponement.

Ever so slightly, his finger tightened against the trigger.

"
Not you,
"
gurgled Larry.
"
Not
you
.
"

"
Four
!
"
bellowed Dave.

"
Five
!
"
he continued, accelerating the count, craving the finish.

"
I didn
'
t...
want
this
!
"
sobbed Larry Smith.
"
This shouldn
'
t...have...happened. Not
you
.
Oh God, not
you
!
"

Dave
'
s eyes flicked downward, slipped to the still, silent thing which commanded Larry
'
s attention.

No; no, that
wasn
'
t
Billy Bristol. That was definitely not Billy; it was much too bloody, much too lifeless. That looked nothing at all like Billy Bristol, nothing at all.

No; not Billy. The thing was certainly not Billy. It
wasn
'
t
.

Dave wished that Billy really
was
there to help him out, give him a hand...but that thing down there
wasn
'
t
Billy and it was just as well because wouldn
'
t that be
terrible
?

It would. It would be terrible.

Suddenly, Dave realized that
he'd
let too much time elapse since the last number of the count. His eyes jumped back to the gunsight and the target, Larry Smith
'
s skull.

It would be terrible.

"
Six
!
"
shouted Dave.

"
Seven
!
"
followed closely, for he needed to make up for lost time.

Larry continued to weep and fidget and ignore Dave
'
s cries. His hand, which had fluttered for so long above his victim
'
s head, finally began to slowly descend.

"
Not you,
"
he whimpered weakly as his quaking fingers drifted downward.
"
This can
'
t be right.
"

"
Don
'
t touch him
!
"
screamed Dave.

The shivering tips of Larry
'
s fingers brushed one bloody cheek.

"
Oh God,
"
gasped Larry Smith.

"
Don
'
t touch him
!
"
Dave shrieked at the top of his lungs.
"
Don
'
t touch him!
"

More than ever, Dave wanted to shoot, wanted to make it happen now.

His finger twitched against the trigger of the .38; for a split
-
second, he
wasn
'
t
sure of whether or not
he'd
fired the weapon...but there was no blast, no bloom of crimson from Larry
'
s head.

"
This shouldn
'
t...have happened,
"
gurgled Larry, fingertips flickering over the cheek of his victim.

"
Eight
!
"
screamed Dave, resuming the count.

"
I
'
m
sorry
,
"
whimpered Larry.
"
I
'
m sorry!
"

"
Nine
!
"
bellowed Dave.

There was an explosion of thunder, a volley of apocalyptic bursts.

Then...

Then, just as Dave
'
s lips formed the final number of the count, Larry Smith looked up at him.

Larry spoke; finally, he spoke to Dave instead of the dead husk in the sand.

"
I
'
m sorry,
"
he groaned.
"
I
'
m so sorry.
"

Dave wanted to shoot.

"
This isn
'
t what I wanted,
"
said Larry.
"
I just wanted to fix things.
"

"
Ten
!
"
snapped Dave...but he
didn
'
t
pull the trigger.

"
I came back...to
fix
things,
"
whimpered Larry.
"
I wanted...I wanted to fix your
life
.
"

Dave wanted to make it happen. He wanted to make
something
happen.

"
I wanted...to fix...
our
life
!
"
sobbed Larry Smith.

"
I
'
m...
you
!
"
sobbed Larry Smith.

"
This...wasn
'
t supposed to happen...like this
!
"
sobbed Larry Smith.

*****

Chapter
72

"
It
'
s true,
"
croaked Larry, his face still twisted in an anguished grimace.
"
I swear...this wasn
'
t...supposed to
happen
.
"

For some reason, Dave
didn
'
t
pull the trigger; for some reason, he listened to the overwrought psychopath.

"
He
wasn
'
t...supposed to
die
,
"
said Larry, seemingly able to grind out each word only with great effort.
"
Just the
others
.
Just the ones I needed...to
change
things.

"
I could never...kill
him
,
"
eked Larry, and then he looked down at the body in the sand. He choked, broke into a wild round of sobbing; he jerked his trembling fingers away from his victim
'
s cheek, wrenched his hand back as if the corpse had suddenly twitched and startled him.

Distant and disoriented, vacant of all thought or feeling except an incredible bloodlust, Dave watched silently. He was unmoved by the killer
'
s apparent agony; it meant nothing to him.

He wanted to shoot. He just wanted to shoot.

For a long moment, Larry wept with his face buried in his hands. The rain continued to soak him, trickling from his cracked, blackened elbows, his grotesquely withered arms.

His head finally lifted and he peered at Dave through pinched, ravaged eyes. He sucked in a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself, but he
couldn
'
t
speak until
he'd
choked off a fresh string of sobs.

"
It was...an
accident
,
"
he whimpered at last.
"
A
mistake
.
I didn
'
t...even know...he was here!
"

From his faraway, insulated vantage point, Dave gazed at Larry
'
s face; for the first time, he noticed that it was changed. The skin had darkened, shifted to a gray tint; the shade was that of slate or cement, and it was distinctly unnatural.

Dave looked at Larry
'
s face with mild interest. He wondered if the killer
'
s condition was spreading, if the same affliction which had struck his arms and throat was moving upward.

He hoped so. It
didn
'
t
really matter, because Larry
'
s skull would soon be blown apart...but any extra pain that the killer could suffer before the end would be a bonus.

"
I came back...to
fix
things,
"
wailed Larry, tossing his head.
"
Not to do...
this
.
"
His eyes flicked toward the corpse, then quickly snapped away.

"
My life...was a
nightmare
,
"
winced Larry.
"
You
'
ll never know...how
bad
things were. I hope to God...you
'
ll never know.
"

Dave listened. He wanted to shoot, but he listened.

"
Everything...was ruined,
"
Larry moaned raggedly.
"
It all started...twenty years ago. It all started...this year. This was the year...when everything went wrong.

"
I broke up...with the girl I loved. I broke up...with Darlene Rollins.
"

Dave listened. Though there had been a time when Larry
'
s words would have fascinated him, they
didn
'
t
faze him now; they rippled past him like a breeze, as meaningless and unworthy of contemplation as the sighing wind.

And yet...

'
I
'
m...
you
,
'
Larry Smith had said.

Dave wanted to shoot. He just wanted to shoot.

Larry was caught by a fit of sobs, then cut them off with a sharp, sudden breath.
"
I let her go,
"
he mewled pitifully.
"
I didn
'
t know...what I wanted to do...with my life. She wanted to get...married but...I was scared. I let her go.
"

Larry shuddered fiercely. He seemed about to plunge into another spate of sobbing...but he somehow settled and spoke once more.

"
I met another girl...at one of Billy
'
s parties. I was drunk out of my mind...and I screwed her. I didn
'
t
know
.
I didn
'
t...think anything of it...at the time.

"
I finally...changed my mind about Darlene. I tried to go back with her...but she wouldn
'
t
have
me. I was too
late
.
"
Larry
'
s voice rose slightly; there was anger as well as anguish in his frail whimper.

"
She was with...another guy. She wouldn
'
t have anything to
do
with me...and he...
he
paid some guy to beat the
shit
out of m
e. He put me in the hospital.

"
In the
hospital
,
"
hissed Larry, rage flashing across his ashen features.
"
The guy who
took
her didn
'
t even have the balls to do it himself.
"

Dave wanted to shoot.

He
didn
'
t
have to listen closely to know that Larry was lying again; obviously, the killer was trying to talk his way out of this scrape, boondoggle Dave with yet another outrageous tale. The tactic had been effective before; clearly, Larry was confident that it would work again, so confident that he
wasn
'
t
even bothering to be
original
.
So far, the latest story was virtually identical to the one that
he'd
told at Wolf
'
s Rock, the one in which
he'd
claimed to be Billy Bristol.

Another fairy tale; that was all that it was. Larry must have thought that another fairy tale would win him his freedom, allow him to lull and then surprise Dave and escape.

It
wouldn
'
t
work; Dave knew that it
wouldn
'
t
work. In the end, the only surprise would come from Dave.

There would be a big surprise when the first bullet entered Larry
'
s skull.

"
I tried again...to get her back,
"
continued Larry, the anger fading from his face and voice.
"
I tried so many times...but she was gone. She ended up
marrying
him.

"
Then, I found out that
other
girl...was pregnant.
I
'
d
gotten her
pregnant
.
"
Pausing, Larry tipped his head back, let the rain run onto his gray face; closing his eyes, he drew a series of deep, shuddering breaths.

Dave watched the killer
'
s fully exposed throat. As Larry inhaled and exhaled, the clumps of blood
-
red boils on his throat pulsed, seemed to have a life of their own.

Larry
'
s head dropped forward and he opened his eyes.
"
I married her,
"
he mumbled weakly.
"
What else could I do? She wouldn
'
t have...an abortion...and I had too much of a conscience...to just walk away.

"
I married her. It was all downhill from there.
"

"
We
hated
each other. She hated me...for getting her pregnant...and I hated her for
getting
pregnant. It was
terrible
.
All we did was fight.

"
We had to live...at my parents
'
house...and that made things worse. We fought with each other...we fought with my parents...we fought with Jeff. It tore the whole
family
apart.

"
My parents finally threw us out,
"
groaned Larry, dragging a quivering hand across his face.
"
They just couldn
'
t take it anymore. They tried...I
know
they tried...but they just couldn
'
t take it.

"
My...my
wife
and I...didn
'
t have any money. I couldn
'
t find a decent job...and she wouldn
'
t move out of town. I was still working at the steakhouse...but that was only part
-
time, and I made next to nothing.

"
We ended up taking Billy
'
s trailer when he left town...to work for this big company in Virginia. The trailer was all we could afford.

"
God...it was
awful
,
"
sobbed Larry.
"
Living
there...with all the
memories
.
All the old gang was
gone
.
Billy went to Virginia...Ernie went to medical school...Boris had killed himself...and everyone else had gone one place or another. Everyone...was gone...and I was
trapped
there...and every time I looked around the trailer...I remembered the
good
times...but they were
gone
and my life was
ruined
.

"
I can
'
t
tell
you...,
"
wailed Larry, and then he broke down in another round of wild sobbing.

Dave felt like laughing.

There was Larry, pouring on the waterworks, spinning another ridiculous yarn...and Dave
wasn
'
t
fooled for a minute. Larry
'
s act was so overdramatic that it was comedic; Dave was onto him, well aware that every word was a lie, but Larry just kept blubbering and emoting as if he thought that Dave was going to succumb to the swindle.

Dave wanted to laugh. He would have laughed if he
hadn
'
t
been so completely focused on shooting the killer; he wanted to shoot much more than he wanted to laugh.

"
She...had the baby,
"
gasped Larry as his latest sobbing fit subsided.
"
It...it wasn
'
t normal.

"
It was...a girl...and she...was a dwarf. S
he
ha
d
sever
e
dwarfism.
"
Pausing, Larry clenched his teeth and pinched his eyes shut; his tortured grimace abruptly constricted as if
he'd
just experienced a terrible bolt of physical pain.

Dave wanted to laugh. He wanted to shoot.

"
The kid...was in bad shape,
"
grated Larry. He opened his eyes, but he looked toward the lake, not at Dave.

"
Her legs...and her back...were all twisted up. She needed...all kinds of treatments. She was going to need treatments for the rest of her life.

"
They were so
expensive
,
"
wailed Larry.
"
The treatments...would cost a
fortune
.
We would have to take her...out of town to get them done...to Pittsburgh, Baltimore, New York.