Linwood Barclay - Lone Wolf

Somewhere, off in the distance, I thought I heard a siren.

Dad had a small fishing boat like Bob’s, and we got May and Jeffrey into it. Dad, with some difficulty, got himself straddled over the back bench, and started pulling the outboard motor cord while Lawrence and I untied the boat from the dock.

“When it’s safe,” I said, “I’ll keep flashing your cabin lights on and off. Just go out there and sit until the signal.”

Dad gave me a thumbs-up, gently turned the throttle on the outboard, and the boat glided away over the dark lake.

“I want to sneak back, keep an eye on Betty and Hank,” Lawrence said. “Why don’t you wait here for the troops to arrive.”

I nodded as Lawrence ran off.

And then, for the first time in several hours, I was alone. I stood at the end of the dock, listening to the receding sound of Dad’s boat as he took May and Jeffrey to temporary safety.

The sirens sounded as though they were getting closer. Bob had done good.

I slipped into Dad’s cabin and turned off all the lights. No sense advertising to Timmy Wickens, wherever he might be, that anyone was here. In the dark, I ran some water at the sink and filled a glass. I drank it down fast, filled the glass a second time.

I wanted to call Sarah, but with the phone line cut, there wasn’t much I could do there. Our cells, our keys, were all with Wendell. In his jacket. So long as the dogs hadn’t eaten them, we’d probably be able to retrieve them from his body when the sun came up.

I went back outside, walked down to the water’s edge and gazed up at the stars. There was a glow in the sky beyond the trees. The last of the farmhouse hadn’t quite burned to the ground yet.

So much chaos, so much death, and now, things seemed almost peaceful.

My shirt-Lawrence’s shirt-reeked of smoke, and I felt confident I could slip into cabin 3, strip it off and find a fresh one, without having to turn on any lights. I walked over to the cabin, went in from the lake side.

Once the door had closed behind me and I was in the main room, the lights flashed on.

I blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust my eyes more quickly than they wanted to.

Standing by the other door, with his shotgun aimed straight at my chest, was Timmy Wickens.

“Where are my daughter and grandson?” Timmy asked, the shotgun still raised and staring me in the face.

“They’re okay,” I said. “We got them out of the farmhouse just before the rest of it went.” I paused. “I don’t know if that’s good news or bad news as far as you’re concerned.”

He ignored that. “The rest of them,” he said. “They’re all dead.”

I nodded. “So it would seem. Dougie couldn’t have survived that explosion. Same with Charlene. And I’m guessing the dogs finished off Wendell.”

Timmy remained stone-faced. “The dogs are dead, too,” he said.

I nodded again. It would have been hard to offer condolences and sound sincere about all the lives lost, so I opted to say nothing.

“Where are they now?” Timmy asked. “My daughter. Jeffrey.”

“They’re safe,” I said.

“I asked you where they are.”

“They’re already miles from here,” I said. “Getting as far away as possible, as fast as possible.”

“I didn’t see any cars leave here,” he said. “Wendell got all the keys.”

“He missed a set,” I said, and swallowed. The sirens sounded closer. “They’re gone, and there isn’t anything I can do about it. Even if I wanted to. Wendell collected cell phones, too. I can’t call them, and if I could, they haven’t got a phone.”

Timmy Wickens thought about that, ran his tongue over his teeth. Then he sucked the spit off them, hissing, and bared his teeth like one of his now dead pit bulls.

Or a wolf.

“It’s your fault,” he said, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet went past my left ear and blew a hole in the wall. It was like thunder. It couldn’t have been meant to hit me. I was too close for him to miss.

“Everything’s gone wrong since you came up here. Started nosing around. Talking to May behind my back.”

He fired again. This time the bullet went past my right ear and blew out a window. I was cold with fear.

But I managed to find some words in my throat. I needed time for help to arrive, and talking might stretch things out.

“I think things went wrong when you let your dogs kill Morton Dewart,” I said, and swallowed. “That’s what got people asking questions. That, and killing Tiff Riley, stealing the fertilizer, those kinds of things.”

I thought I heard the sound of crunching gravel, of a car coming down the hill to the cabins.

Timmy motioned for me to move toward the center of the room. He took three steps in, away from the door.

“I was going to be somebody,” Timmy said.

“Excuse me?”

“I was going to be somebody. People would’ve talked about me. I’d have gone into the history books.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I said. “Just like McVeigh.”

Timmy nodded.

“But people would have had to find out,” I said. “You’d have to be caught for the world to know what you’d done.”

Timmy thought about that. “Eventually. I wouldn’t have minded waiting a little while. Turning on the news, hearing about them looking for me. Other people, cheering me on.” He moved forward and pushed the barrel of the gun up against my neck. “Except not people like you. People who don’t give a fuck about how this country is going into the toilet.”

Unless I stepped back, I couldn’t talk or swallow. I inched backwards, but Timmy moved with me, the barrel pushing into the flesh of my neck. Before I knew it, I was up against the wall.

“Why don’t you make a run for it?” I said, my chin raised, head tilted to one side. “Just go. Disappear into the woods.”

He grinned. “There’s still a nasty bear out there.”

No, I thought. There isn’t.

Timmy forced the gun a little harder into my neck. “But with this, I guess I’d stand a pretty good chance, wouldn’t I?”

“So go,” I said, shifting my neck a bit to the right to keep from choking. “Take off.”

Timmy stared at me. “I got just one thing left to do,” he said. “And that’s deal with you.”

Could I run? Could I rush him? Was there anything I could do to avoid getting shot by Timmy Wickens? With the barrel of a gun already pressed up against my neck?

I thought of Sarah. And Paul, and Angie.

“Hear those sirens?” I asked Timmy. “Sounds like they’re already up at your place. Fire department, ambulance. Police. They’re going to be down here soon. You don’t have much time.”

The door he’d been standing by when I came in suddenly swung open. Chief Orville Thorne stepped in, his pistol drawn.

Even though Orville had a gun and I didn’t, Timmy Wickens kept his weapon fixed on me.

“Timmy, Mr. Wickens,” Orville said. “Put down your weapon.”

Timmy grinned, and showed his teeth again. “Well, look who’s here to save the day. How’s that make you feel, Mr. Walker? You’re waiting for help to arrive, and look who shows.”

“Hi, Orville,” I said, and tried to swallow my fear.

Orville didn’t look at me. He raised his pistol, wrapped both hands around it.

“Come on, Timmy,” he said, almost pleading. “Put your gun down.”

“Orville, take a walk,” Timmy said, his voice confident. He’d been in this place before. “Go home. Go home before I take away your hat and your gun.”

Orville kept his pistol aimed at Timmy. But he kept blinking, like he had sweat or tears in his eyes.

“Maybe I’m not getting through to you, Orville,” Timmy said. “You walk away and you don’t even see what it is I have to do. You can say you came in just a minute too late, that Mr. Walker was already dead, that I was gone. You’ve always been a reasonable sort, Orville, and this would be the wrong time to be stupid.”