Read Online The Devil Walks in Mattingly by Billy Coffey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Billy Coffey
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into the mirror. Zach held up one small hand as my body went slack. Pinched between his thumb and forefinger was a dead white butterfly, its wings flapping
(openclosedopen)
in the dry current of air. I spun around in my seat —“No, Zach!”— and swiped at his fingers to get the horrible thing away. The Blazer drifted toward the middle of the road. Zach yelped when my hand hit his. He did not let go.
“Jake!” Kate screamed. Her voice was faraway, frantic. “Jake, what are you doing ?”
I slapped Zach’s hand again. He cried out. Words and emotions jumbled together in his mouth and came out in something that sounded like, “Maa, maa!”
I reached out
—“Jake, there’s a truck ”—
and closed my palm around the butterfly, feeling its dead wings buckle and break. I threw it
—“ JAKE ”—
out the window, then turned to see the truck in the opposite lane bearing down on us. I turned the wheel just as the driver blew the horn. Kate gripped me with both hands as the Blazer corrected itself. I threw up my left hand and offered an apologetic wave as the truck passed. It was not returned. Kate’s eyes were black pools of fear and shock.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “Sorry. Zach?” I looked into the rearview mirror. Zach’s face was ashen. Shiny paths of forded tears ran from his eyes. “Zach, I’m so sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to do that. I thought it was . . .”
(I have something for you, Jake)
“. . . something else. Are you okay?”
Zach nodded in a way that said he wasn’t right then but maybe later.
Kate’s hands still gripped me. “Jake, what in the world were you doing?”
“Sorry,” I said again.
I looked into the mirror as the battered pickup rounded the curve behind us. In the dwindling light I saw a man’s face peering from the grimy rear window.
Had I seen that face clearly, I still wouldn’t have recognized Taylor Hathcock. I’d never seen the man before, as far as I knew. But for those brief seconds, he and Kate and I were brought together again. And just as the first time, what followed was death.
10
The first place they saw was the BP. The building was little more than a bricked white square with a few aging pumps out front. A sign at the edge of the road announced the price of regular gasoline. On the small marquee below that was a single word—PRAY. Taylor knew that to Charlie it was just another Mom & Pop in just another town, no different from the thousands of others that pockmarked rural America everywhere. But to Taylor that building marked the borderland of a world both foreign and evil. Yet it was too late to turn back, even if it had been in his heart to do so. To town was where the tracks from the grove led—to town and to Her—and Taylor would follow no matter his fear.
He’d allowed Charlie rest and all the beer needed to harden what softness remained in him. The result had left him stumbling and weak. The walk through the Hollow to the rusty gate had taken hours. By the time they reached Mattingly, night had fallen and Taylor longed for home. He reminded himselfthat great tasks made good men. That conviction alone bolstered him. For in all the things Taylor Hathcock had grown to want, none burned hotter in him than the desire to be a good man.
Charlie pulled in without direction and said, “This here’s the place, Taylor, I can feel it.” Taylor felt no such pull and closed his book. Charlie’s eyes were two angry slits that still fumed from the way they’d almost been run off the road. Taylor believed that for Charlie Givens, any place would’ve been the right place just now.
They parked near the front doors and found the store empty. Charlie stopped just inside and locked his drunken eyes on the first shiny thing he saw—a display of bug repellant. Taylor left him there and roamed aisles of sealed bags and drinks trapped in plastic bottles.
“Yo,” he called. “Anybody here?” When no one answered, he turned to Charlie and
(openclosedopen)
in the dry current of air. I spun around in my seat —“No, Zach!”— and swiped at his fingers to get the horrible thing away. The Blazer drifted toward the middle of the road. Zach yelped when my hand hit his. He did not let go.
“Jake!” Kate screamed. Her voice was faraway, frantic. “Jake, what are you doing ?”
I slapped Zach’s hand again. He cried out. Words and emotions jumbled together in his mouth and came out in something that sounded like, “Maa, maa!”
I reached out
—“Jake, there’s a truck ”—
and closed my palm around the butterfly, feeling its dead wings buckle and break. I threw it
—“ JAKE ”—
out the window, then turned to see the truck in the opposite lane bearing down on us. I turned the wheel just as the driver blew the horn. Kate gripped me with both hands as the Blazer corrected itself. I threw up my left hand and offered an apologetic wave as the truck passed. It was not returned. Kate’s eyes were black pools of fear and shock.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “Sorry. Zach?” I looked into the rearview mirror. Zach’s face was ashen. Shiny paths of forded tears ran from his eyes. “Zach, I’m so sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to do that. I thought it was . . .”
(I have something for you, Jake)
“. . . something else. Are you okay?”
Zach nodded in a way that said he wasn’t right then but maybe later.
Kate’s hands still gripped me. “Jake, what in the world were you doing?”
“Sorry,” I said again.
I looked into the mirror as the battered pickup rounded the curve behind us. In the dwindling light I saw a man’s face peering from the grimy rear window.
Had I seen that face clearly, I still wouldn’t have recognized Taylor Hathcock. I’d never seen the man before, as far as I knew. But for those brief seconds, he and Kate and I were brought together again. And just as the first time, what followed was death.
10
The first place they saw was the BP. The building was little more than a bricked white square with a few aging pumps out front. A sign at the edge of the road announced the price of regular gasoline. On the small marquee below that was a single word—PRAY. Taylor knew that to Charlie it was just another Mom & Pop in just another town, no different from the thousands of others that pockmarked rural America everywhere. But to Taylor that building marked the borderland of a world both foreign and evil. Yet it was too late to turn back, even if it had been in his heart to do so. To town was where the tracks from the grove led—to town and to Her—and Taylor would follow no matter his fear.
He’d allowed Charlie rest and all the beer needed to harden what softness remained in him. The result had left him stumbling and weak. The walk through the Hollow to the rusty gate had taken hours. By the time they reached Mattingly, night had fallen and Taylor longed for home. He reminded himselfthat great tasks made good men. That conviction alone bolstered him. For in all the things Taylor Hathcock had grown to want, none burned hotter in him than the desire to be a good man.
Charlie pulled in without direction and said, “This here’s the place, Taylor, I can feel it.” Taylor felt no such pull and closed his book. Charlie’s eyes were two angry slits that still fumed from the way they’d almost been run off the road. Taylor believed that for Charlie Givens, any place would’ve been the right place just now.
They parked near the front doors and found the store empty. Charlie stopped just inside and locked his drunken eyes on the first shiny thing he saw—a display of bug repellant. Taylor left him there and roamed aisles of sealed bags and drinks trapped in plastic bottles.
“Yo,” he called. “Anybody here?” When no one answered, he turned to Charlie and
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