EIGHT

Altick raced up through the bushes. He had waited with the two men by the helicopter until the ground patrol had finally arrived. He told them what had happened, and when he was finished urging them, when he had shown them first the body in the lake and then the piles of viscera in the forest, he had succeeded in his efforts to enrage them. After all, the one thing he had always emphasized was loyalty to one another. The members of the patrol knew all the men who had been killed. They'd been close friends, and the grisly evidence of how the first group had been killed had been enough to change their fear into anger. They weren't certain what had done this, but they all agreed that someone or some thing was going to pay. They edged up past the viscera, and they were cursing as they found a gametrail that led higher, blood along it, which they followed. High above, the helicopter hovered. That way, they would have a lookout who could warn them of a trap he saw ahead, and if they were indeed attacked, the pilot could pick up the wounded. At the least, the pilot would survive to tell what he had seen down here, but no one liked to talk about the chance of their all dying. They were rushing up the gametrail, concentrating to insure that their side didn't do the dying. They found more blood on the gametrail, and they were so angry, and it was so easy to follow this clear a spoor that no one thought until later that the blood had maybe been left for them.

PART SIX. The Jail

ONE

The map was spread out on the desk, and Slaughter stared at it. He glanced up at the five men grouped around him: Rettig, Dunlap, Lucas, Owens, and the medical examiner. "I wanted you to be here because each of you has been involved in this and I need your opinions."

They were silent. Outside, traffic was unusually dense for a Sunday.

"Good," Slaughter said. "I'm glad you want to help."

"There isn't any choice."

And Slaughter looked at Owens who was scowling out the window. Slaughter waited, then continued.

"As I see it, we've got two main problems, although they're really both the same. The first thing is to keep the people in town safe."

"By this afternoon, there won't be anybody to protect."

Slaughter looked again at Owens, then at where the man was scowling, at the cars and trucks that filed past toward the main road from the valley. "Okay, so word spread fast and lots of people are leaving. That can help us."

"To do what? Protect a ghost town?" Owens asked.

"That's exactly what I didn't want to hear. You've worked hard on this. I thought I could depend on you."

"But what's the use?" Owens demanded. "You know we can't beat this."

"We can try."

"Well, you don't have a family. My wife and kids are packing right now."

"So are mine," Rettig said. "That doesn't mean I'm going with them."

Owens stared at him and then at everyone. His gaze was disbelieving. "You still don't get it, do you? Everything we've found out, the way they don't like light and how they come out in the darkness, how the moon affects them, how these incidents have been increasing." He pointed toward a calendar on the wall.

Slaughter shook his head. "I don't understand."

"It's the moon. The moon is getting fuller. We've got just today and Monday and then Tuesday. When the moon is at its fullest, this whole valley's going to be a madhouse."

They looked startled.

"What he says is in a way correct," the medical examiner added. "There's a kind of logarithmic pattern to this."

"Will you please make sense?"

"The numbers, Slaughter. They're increasing at a faster rate. What you told me, all the calls that you've been getting, all the incidents your men are investigating. We start with one thing. Next it's two, the next night four, and eight, and sixteen. As the moon gets fuller, all the incidents are doubled in proportion. After sixteen, thirty-two. You see the kind of ultimate it's leading toward."

"Then that can help us."

"If it can, I don't see how."

"The moon will start to wane then, and the incidents will be reduced. The stimulus won't be as strong. If we can get through Tuesday, then we've got a chance to gain control."

"Except that it's not just a full moon," Owens said. "Look at the calendar. Tuesday. What's the date?"

"June twentieth."

"That's right, and what's it say about the next day?"

Slaughter leaned close to the calendar. "It says the twenty-first, the first day of summer."

"And you still don't get it?"

Slaughter frowned, confused.

"The summer solstice," Owens told him. "Christ, you're a cop. When you were back east in Detroit, surely you noticed how the crazies started acting up when the moon was full or when the seasons started changing. You don't even need to be a cop to notice it. Just talk to doctors or to me about the way my animals begin behaving. Talk to people at complaint departments out at Sears or Ward's or K-Mart. The moon does crazy things. And now the full moon and the summer solstice will be coming together. All those ancient stories about pagans losing control and worshiping chaos on Midsummer's Eve. Chaos. Think about it. We've got a virus that affects the limbic brain and makes us act the way we did when we were animals. Tuesday night, you're going to see hell."

They gaped at him, their faces drained of color.

"Jesus," Dunlap said.

"Yes, you've scared me," Slaughter said and looked down at the map, then at the window, then at him. He took a breath. "Yes, I admit it, and I guess after what I've seen, you're likely right that anything can happen now. But I don't know what I can do about it."

"Leave before you don't have a choice," Owens said.

"I can't allow that."

"Why?"

"Because I have a job."

"That's just as crazy as the things you've seen," Owens said. "You won't do any good, and even if you do, who's going to thank you? Parsons? He looks out for himself. You think the people in the valley will be grateful if you die for them? Don't believe it. They'll just say you didn't have control, that you were foolish. Take the chance and get out while you can."

"But I'm not doing this for the town. I'm doing it for me," Slaughter said. "If I run now, I couldn't tolerate myself. And I don't think you could run out either."

"No? Just watch me."

And they did. They waited, staring, and Owens returned their stares, and for a moment, it seemed certain that he would walk away, but then he didn't.

"Something wrong? You're bothered?" Slaughter asked.

Owens kept looking at him.

"Maybe you had something more to say?"

But Owens only swallowed.

"I tell you what. It's daylight. Things won't get too bad until tonight. Just stick around a little. Tell your family to leave, that you'll catch up. And in the meanwhile, keep helping us the way you did just now. You've given us more information than we had. I don't know how to use it, but you're really quite important."

Owens kept staring. "Until tonight at sunset."

"That's no more than I could ask for."

And then Slaughter did an unexpected thing. He reached close to shake hands with him, and Owens seemed a little better, and the other men relaxed then.

"We're a team again. Let's do it."