John Saul - Creature

Ignoring the car that lay smashed almost beyond recognition a few dozen yards away, he attached the air pump's hose to the stem of the left front tire. Only when he'd made certain that the pump was operating properly did he turn his attention to the ruined Audi and the faint cries for help emanating from its twisted body.

He moved quickly to the car, then paused warily, waiting to see if it was going to burst into flame. A small puddle of gasoline had formed beneath the filling pipe, but nowhere did he see any signs of smoke.

Ignoring the driver's side, he hurried around the car and squatted down, peering inside until he spotted what he was looking for.

A black briefcase-the old-fashioned kind that opened at the top-was wedged between the passenger seat and the collapsed dashboard.

The truck driver reached through the window and quickly worked it loose. He opened it, rifled through it for a moment, then pulled out the small package wrapped in white butcher paper. Satisfied, he shoved the briefcase back into the car and stepped back.

"H-Help…"he heard a faint voice mumble. "I can't…"

"Sorry, buddy," the truck driver said. "If you'regonna stick your nose in where nobody wants you, yougotta expect some trouble."

Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a battered book of matches. Casually glancing in both directions, and still seeing no traffic approaching, he struck one of the matches and lit a cigarette. Then, stepping back and taking careful aim, he flicked the match into the small puddle forming beneath the gasoline intake, turned and fled.

For a moment the puddle only blazed up, but then the fumes in the tank itself ignited and the muffled roar of the explosion filled the air. As the tank came apart, a glowing fireball rose over the car and the car itself was engulfed in flames.

Inside the car MacMacCallum, still conscious, saw the orange flames whirl around him and felt the heat of the air as he tried to breathe.

A moment later, as the fire sucked the oxygen out of the air in the car, he felt himself passing out.

The last thing in his mind before he died was Sharon Tanner.

He wondered if they had killed her, too.

The driver stood well away from the truck until the small pump hadoverinflated the tire to the point where it blew out, then quickly returned the pump to its storage place under the front seat. He glanced only once at the wide black lines his skidding tires had left as he'd slewed the truck into the Audi, already well aware that they were an almost perfect imitation of the marks he'd have left trying to regain control of the big semi after a tire had blown.

Satisfied, he snapped on the C.B. radio mounted on the dash of the truck and tuned it to Channel 9. Only after he'd reported the accident on the emergency band did he at last move back toward the burning car, so that when the police arrived, it would be clearly seen that he was doing his best to rescue the man he'd just killed.

"Mom?" Kelly said. When her mother didn't turn around, she repeated the word, louder this time. " Mom !" Sharon was sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the window but not really aware of what was happening outside. As had been the case ever since her meeting in the park with MacMacCallum, she was considering what to do next. She'd already come to one decision: as soon as Mark came home, she would tell him that he was to spend no more time at the sports center.

Blake wouldn't like it-she knew that-and she still wasn't sure what she would tell him when he demanded an explanation. What could she tell him? That she was almost certain the sports center was nothing less than a laboratory using the Silverdale children for experimentation? The least he'd do was laugh at her, and she wouldn't really blame him if he accused her of falling victim to the same kind of paranoia ChuckLaConner insisted had overcome Charlotte.

" Mom !" Kelly said once again, and this time the little girl's voice penetrated Sharon's consciousness. She turned and managed a smile.

"I'm sorry, honey. I was just thinking about something."

Kelly was standing by the back door, her brows knit in a frown. "When are we going to have dinner?" she demanded. "I'm hungry!"

Sharon glanced up at the clock. It was almost six-thirty, and she realized that she'd been sitting at the table for almost two hours. Hurriedly, she stood and went to the freezer, making a mental inventory of its contents.

"Did Mark come home yet?" she asked.

Kelly shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't see him."

Sharon headed toward the kitchen door to call up the stairwell, then noticedChivas curled up by the stove, his chin resting on his forepaws, his large eyes staring dolefully up at her. The dog's presence was enough to tell her that her son wasn't in the house-if he had been,Chivas would long ago have disappeared from the kitchen to trail along after Mark, whatever he might be doing.

The front door slammed, and a moment later Mark himself appeared in the kitchen.Chivas instantly scrambled to his feet and skidded across the slick vinyl floor, his tail wagging madly.

"Hey! Get down, you big idiot." Mark pushed the dog aside, his face lit by an oddly triumphant grin that Sharon had never seen before. "Is Dad home yet?"

Sharon shook her head. "And where have you been?" she countered, nodding pointedly toward the clock. "Look what time it is."

Mark's smile faded only slightly. "At the center," he replied. "I didn't get there till almost four."

Sharon frowned, but when she spoke, she tried to keep her voice neutral. "What on earth did you do out there for two hours?" she asked.

Mark shrugged, and idly picked an apple from a basket on the counter. "Just the usual stuff. Marty checked me over and then I did some exercises."

Sharon's lips tightened. "What kind of exercises?" she asked.

Mark's smile faded away. "What does it matter?" he challenged her. "You don't like what I'm doing anyway."

"Can't a mother be curious?" Sharon said lightly, ignoring the faintly contemptuous tone his words had carried.

"Aw, Jeez, Mom," Mark replied, his eyes rolling with impatience. "What do you care what I do out there?"

Now Sharon allowed her tone to harden. "I'm your mother. And is it some kind of big secret? Is something going on out there you don't want me to know about?"

Mark stared at her for a moment, then his mouth twisted into an insolent grin. "Yeah," he said. "Marty's gay, and we're all getting it on together. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Mark!" Sharon exclaimed, her eyes instantly going to Kelly, who was now staring curiously at her brother. "What on earth would make you even think of a thing like that?" she asked before her daughter could get a word in.

Mark shrugged. "I don't know. It just seems like you have this thing about the center, that's all."

"It's not a 'thing,' as you put it," Sharon said tightly. "I just want to know what you were doing, that's all. And if you don't want me to keep asking you questions, you can start giving me some answers."

Mark's eyes flashed with anger now. "All right!" he flared. "If it's so damned important to you, here's what happened. I went out there and stripped down, and they took my pulse and my blood pressure, and my measurements. Okay?" His eyes bored into her, but he didn't give her a chance to say anything. "And then I did twenty minutes on the rowing machine. Okay? And then that was all, and I came home. Is that all right with you?"

Sharon shrank back slightly, dazed by the intensity of the anger in Mark's voice. Then her own temper flared. "Don't speak to me in that tone of voice, young man," she snapped. "And no," she plunged on, suddenly deciding to get it all out right now, "itis not all right with me! It doesn't take two hours for the simple examination you keep describing and then twenty minutes on a rowing machine."