Mr. 8

Chapter 35: Bait

Six gun shots went off in rapid succession as Ed Moores' revolver was consumed in the fire. Neighbors began pouring out their front doors to see the bungalow rapidly dissolve into ash and char. They stood there and gawked, as the blaze took over the building, and flames shot up into the twilight, like a ceremonial bonfire.

One heroic man jogged out into the street in his socks and snapped a picture of the license plate as Denton drove off.

In the rearview mirror, the figure stood in stark relief holding up his phone, one side of his face was brightly lit by the Moores' house, the other was in deep shadow.

The Buick made the first turn it came to and started weaving its way through the side streets heading back to the center of town.

That had not gone as planned. That had been a disaster. Denton drummed the steering-wheel with his fingertips, tapping out a staccato rhythm that formed a soundtrack to his shock.

From a cold, rational corner of his brain a voice whispered: only four left.

The thought hit him with such repellent force Denton came close to slamming on the break. How can I think that? Two people are dead back there.

Shouldn't that have more of an effect on him? But at the same time, he couldn't just curl up in a ball and weep. He needed to hold it together. He needed to hold on for just a little longer. Besides they had been infected. Even if they hadn't attacked him, and the house hadn't caught fire, their end was never going to be pretty. He needed to find a hard emotionless place deep inside of himself and move on. The plan was to visit Jessica Knowles next. Hers was the last name on Kaling's list, but she lived the closest to the Moores. She had an apartment not far from Grimshaw Street.

Time was draining away. If he wanted to put his plan into action, he had to act quickly. But he had to be more careful with the others. It was clear the Moores had been expecting him, from the way they behaved. They knew who I was from the moment I walked in there. Kaling must have warned them about me. Had he already gotten the message? Or had he put his troops on alert last night after Denton escaped from the hospital?

He pulled up in front of Knowles' building. Unlike the converted homes the Milton students lived in, this was a featureless brick tenement built shortly after the war. Except for a few minor details, it was identical to the one that Meyers had lived in.

Her address placed her on the second floor. He scanned across the building, hoping to detect some clue—some sign of her presence. But he had no idea if her unit faced the front or not.

Only two windows had lights on. The others were either dark or had the blinds drawn making it impossible to tell. At least they had electricity. Denton wouldn't have to face another candlelit room.

The stairs leading up to her unit were a cheap, gray marble, and the air smelt like boiled cabbage and kitty litter.

Denton steadied himself at her door. His strategy was simple: when she answered, he'd tell her to check on the Moores, and then get out of there as fast as possible. There was something evil about using the tragedy of the old couple to strike fear into her. But it should push her towards Kaling and that's what he needed.

Before his knuckles could finish rapping against the door, it

started to creak open.

"Hello," he called. "Is anyone there?"

The only noise coming from the apartment was the distant hum of a refrigerator. Was she out? How would he find her if she wasn't at home? He could wait, but what if she wasn't back for days? What if Jessica Knowles had set off to another town like a modern day Typhoid Mary spreading madness in her wake?