Terry Brooks - Running With The Demon

She was dozing in the lounge, listening with half an ear to a television report that said authorities were dragging Rock River above Sinnissippi Park for a missing Hopewell man, when one of the nurses came to tell her that her grandfather was awake and asking for her. She rose and walked quickly to his room. He was sitting up in bed now, a cast on his arm and shoulder, bandages wrapped about his ribs, and tubes running out of his arm. His white hair was rumpled and spiky as he turned his head to look at her. She smiled back bravely.

"Hi, Grandpa," she said.

"Rough night, wasn't it?" he replied, seeing the concern in her eyes. "Are you all right, Nest?"

"I'm fine." She sat next to him on the bed. "How about you?"

"Stiff and sore, but I'll live. You heard what happened, I suppose?"

She nodded. "This guy was trying to blow up the fireworks and you stopped him." She took his hand in hers. "My grandpa, the hero."

"Well, I didn't stop him, matter of fact. He stopped himself. All I did, come right down to it, was to make sure people knew the truth about what he was trying to do. Maybe it will help ease tensions a little." He paused. "They tell you how long I'm going to be here?"

She shook her head. "They haven't told me anything."

"Well, there's not much to tell. I'll be fine in a day or two, but they might keep me here a week. I guess they plan to let me out for your grandmother's funeral. Doctor says so, anyway." He paused. "Will you be all right without me? Do you want me to call someone? Maybe you could go stay with the Minters."

"Grandpa, don't worry, I'm fine," she said quickly. "I can take care of myself."

He studied her a moment. "I know that." He glanced at his nightstand. "Would you hand me a cup of water, please?"

She did, and he took a long drink, lifting his head only slightly from the pillows. The room was white and still, and she could hear the murmur of voices from the hall outside. Through cracks in the window blinds, she could see blue sky and sunlight.

When her grandfather was finished with the water, he looked at her again, his eyes uneasy. "Did you run into your father out there last night?"

Her throat tightened. She nodded.

"Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "He tried to persuade me to come with him, like John Ross said he would. He threatened me. But I told him I wasn't coming and he couldn't make me." Her brow furrowed. "So he gave up and went away."

Her grandfather studied her. "Just like that? Off he went, back to poisoning trees in the park?"

"Well, no." She realized how ridiculous it sounded. She looked out the window, thinking. "He didn't just go off. It's kind of hard to explain, actually." She hesitated, not sure where to go. "I had some help."

Her grandfather kept staring at her, but she had nothing left to say. Finally, he nodded. "Maybe you'll fill me in on the details sometime. When you think I'm up to it."

She looked back at him. "I forgot something. He told me about Gran. He said he tried to come after me, and she chased him off with the shotgun." She watched her grandfather's eyes. "So she wasn't just shooting at nothing."

He nodded again, solemn, introspective. "That's good to know, Nest. I appreciate you telling me. I thought it must be something like that. I was pretty sure."

He closed his eyes momentarily, and Nest exhaled slowly. No one spoke for a moment. Then Nest said, "Grandpa, I was wondering." She waited until he opened his eyes again. "You know about Jared Scott?" Her grandfather nodded. "They took his brothers and sisters away afterward. Mrs. Walker says they're going to be put in foster care. I was wondering if, maybe after you're home again, we could see if Bennett Scott could come stay with us."

She bit her lip against the sudden dampness in her eyes. "She's pretty little to be with strangers, Grandpa."

Her grandfather nodded, and his hand tightened about hers. "I think that would be fine, Nest," he said quietly. "We'll look into it."

She went home again when her grandfather fell back asleep, walking the entire way from the hospital, needing the time alone. The sun shone brightly out of a cloudless sky, and the temperature had fallen just enough that the air was warm without being humid. She wondered if it was anything like this where John Ross had gone.

The house was quiet and empty when she arrived home. The casseroles and tins were gone from the kitchen, picked up by Reverend Ernery, who had left a nice note for her on the counter saying he would stop by the hospital to visit her grandfather that night. She drank a can of root beer, sitting on the back porch steps with Mr. Scratch, who lay sprawled out at her feet, oblivious of everything. She looked off into the park frequently, but made no move to go into it. Pick would be at work

there, healing the scarred landscape of the deep woods. Maybe she would look for him tomorrow.

When it began to grow dark, she made herself a sandwich and sat eating alone at the kitchen table where she had sat so often with Gran. She was midway through her meal when she heard a kitten cry. She sat where she was a moment, then got up and went to the back door. There was Spook. Bennett Scott's kitten was ragged and scrawny, but all in one piece. Nest slipped outside and picked up the kitten, holding it against her breast. Where had he come from? There was no sign of Pick. But Spook couldn't have found his way here all alone.

She put milk in a bowl and set the bowl on the porch for Spook to drink. The kitten lapped hungrily, a loud purr building in its furry chest. Nest watched hi silence, thinking.

After a while, she picked up the phone and called Robert.

"Hey," she said.

"Nest?"

"Want to go for a bike ride and visit Jared?"

There was a long pause. "What did you do to me last night?"

"Nothing. Want to go with me or not?"

"You can't visit Jared. He's off limits. They've got him hi intensive care."

Nest looked at the shadows lengthening hi the park. "Let's go see him anyway."

She hung up and when the phone rang, she left it alone. With Robert, it was best not to argue or explain.

Twenty minutes later he wheeled into her drive, dropped his bike in the grass, and walked up to her where she was back sitting out on the porch steps. He brushed at his unruly blond hair as he strode up, bouncing defiantly on the balls of his feet.

"Why'd you hang up on me?" he demanded.

"I'm a girl," she said, shrugging. "Girls do things like that. Want a root beer?"

"Geez. Bribery, yet." He followed her into the kitchen. "How's your grandpa?"

"Good. He won't be able to come home for a while, maybe a week. But he's okay."

"Good for him. Wish I could say the same."

She cocked one eyebrow speculatively. "What's the matter? Did I hurt you last night?"

"Ah–hah! You admit it!" Robert was ecstatic. "I knew you did something! I knew it! What was it? C'mon, tell me!"

She reached into the refrigerator, brought out a can of root beer, and handed it to him. "I used a stun gun."

He stared at her, openmouthed. Then he flushed. "No, you didn't! You're just saying that because that was what I told the cops! Where would you get a stun gun, anyway? Come on! What did you do?"

She cocked her head. "You mean you lied to the police?"

He continued to stare at her, frustration mirrored in his narrow, bunched features. Then he crooked his finger. "C'mere."

He led her back outside, down the steps and into the yard. Then he shook the can of root beer as hard as he could, pointed it at her, and popped the top. Cold fizz sprayed all over her. He waited until she was glaring openly at him, then took a long drink from the can and said, "Okay, now we're even."

She went inside to wash and change her T-shirt, then came back out to find him dangling a length of string in front of Spook, who was watching with a mix of curiosity and mistrust. "Are you ready?" she asked, picking the kitten up and depositing him inside the house.