Then he came for Casey.

CHAPTER 57

GAGE TWISTED HIS FINGERS UP IN CASEY'S HAIR AND DRAGGED her from inside the tire. Casey shrieked and swung her fists and kicked at Gage's groin, doubling him over in pain, but not enough to loosen his grip.

The other man chortled, and Gage sprang up, backhanding Casey as he did. Stars exploded in front of her eyes. Her ears rang, and she tasted blood. Gage punched her in the stomach so hard she felt her legs go slack, and she crumpled to the ground, gasping. Above her Gage wheezed, and placed his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His flashlight lay at a crazy angle, lighting up the tire pile and glinting on the blood that flowed down the young girl's face.

The girl groaned and began to crawl. Gage saw her and sprang, stamping on her hand, crushing the bones. She screamed as he ground his boot, then lifted her by the hair and kicked her toward the eighteen-wheeler.

"Take her," Gage said. "Close it up and get the fuck going."

"What about her?" the man said, waving his gun barrel at Casey.

"She look Mexican to you?" Gage said in a growl. "Don't be stupid. I'll take care of her."

The other man grinned and nodded and took the young girl by the scruff of the neck, disappearing into the weeds. Gage bent over again, collecting his breath. Casey heard the rear doors to the eighteen-wheeler squeak shut and the bolt was rammed home. After a minute the eighteen-wheeler's engine whined, its gears clanked, and its brakes hissed before it rumbled off into the night.

"You keep coming around me for a reason, girl," Gage said, raising his head and grinning her way. "Must be you only learn the hard way. Yeah, that happens."

Casey tried to thrash her legs, but they barely moved. She groped the rocky ground, clawing herself away. She felt Gage's thick fingers on her skin as he stuffed one hand into the waist of her pants and wound her hair around his other fist, lifting her off the ground with incredible ease. He propelled her forward, through darkness and the weeds, her feet barely touching the earth until they reached the vehicles. Gage slammed her down on the trunk of his cruiser, knocking the wind out of her, dizzying her with pain, then disappeared for an instant. Casey rolled off the trunk, lost her balance, and began to crawl.

She heard Gage coming. He lifted her from the ground and again slammed her facedown on the trunk, sending fresh waves of pain through her nose. Her face slipped on the car's painted surface in a smear of her own blood. Gage rolled her on her side, winding tape around her wrists even as she struggled. He loosely bound her ankles, then yanked a bandana from his pocket and stuffed it into her mouth before wrapping her face with a third band of tape.

"Now you'll sound good," he said, breathing heavy and rolling her onto her stomach. "Just a little whimper."

She heard him click open a knife, then felt the prick of its tip just beneath her eye and she went rigid, squeezing her eyes shut. Gage bent over her, leaning close enough so that she could feel his breath on her face as he whispered.

"What did I say to you?" he asked plaintively. "I said, 'This is not your business,' but here you are, sticking your nose in."

Casey choked and gagged, gulping down the blood that ran from the back of her nose into her throat. She felt the point of the blade pushing up underneath her eyeball and she fought against her own scream.

The only shriek came from Gage.

The pressure from the blade's point disappeared at the same instant.

Casey's eyes shot open and she saw him flopping in the dust like a tarpon on land, his legs helpless as fins, his hands groping for the haft of the blade buried in his lower spine.

On the edge of the foggy glow of light stood a ghoulish figure, his head wrapped in bloody rags, baggy clothes draped slack over bony limbs, grinning maniacally at the thrashing cop. The ghoulish man ran into the light and stomped on the knife in Gage's back, intensifying his hellish screaming before dodging back, his mouth open now in a jackal's laugh. Casey saw the gun in his hand and she wormed her way off the trunk, spilling to the ground on the far side of the car from Gage.

Casey struggled, squirming toward the darkness, but before her third step the ghoul was on her, poking her temple with the barrel of a gun.

He made a soft clucking noise as he unwound the tape around her ankles. In a heavy Mexican accent, he said, "You not going anywhere. Get up."

He grabbed the collar of Casey's shirt, dragging her up while keeping the pistol planted firmly against her head. Gage had grown quieter, sobbing now, his arms feebly flopping in an effort to dislodge the knife. The ghoul walked Casey next to the car, away from the moaning cop, and reached inside the window of the cruiser to pop open the trunk. He then led her back to the open trunk and pushed her in, slamming the lid shut.

In the pitch-blackness, Casey heard the man talking to Gage.

"You fuck with the wrong people, you piece of shit," he said. "Now tell me where they go."

"Fuck you," Gage said through his agony.

After a moment of silence Gage screamed again and again, his howl ending in renewed sobs.

Casey struggled with her bound hands to dig into the front pocket of her cut-up jeans. She got hold of her cell phone and flipped it open, illuminating the inside of the trunk. The light revealed a jagged edge of sheet metal. She stretched her wrists toward it and began to cut the tape, but stopped when she heard more talking outside.

"Big man," the zombie said with his jackal laugh. "Now I make you a little girl."

"No! God, no!"

"You don't got no God."

"I didn't do it! It was Chase. He killed your brother!"

Casey looked at the phone. With her thumb, she clicked it to video mode and began recording what she heard, the picture nothing more than the metal ribs of the trunk.

"And you, too."

"I covered it up. That's all. No, Jesus, don't."

"What about his little girl?"

Gage was bawling now. "Don't do it."

"The girl!"

"Oh, God," Gage said. "They're gone. They're all gone."

"Where?" the zombie asked, calm and quiet.

" Mexico," Gage said. "I don't know where. I don't. Chase knows. He knows. Don't! No!"

Gage screamed again, a new agony that ended with a gagging sound and a choking before everything went quiet.

Casey's heart battered her ribs. She heard footsteps coming for the car and snapped shut her phone, killing the light. Her hands trembled in the blackness, but the trunk stayed shut. She heard the man get into the car and slam the door shut. The engine started. The car lurched forward. Casey smashed into the rear of the trunk, the phone spilling from her fingers in the dark. The wheel spun rocks up into the well next to Casey's head. As they bounced along the quarry road Casey groped blindly for the phone. Then they stopped and Casey froze. She heard voices speaking Spanish. Another car started its engine and took off. The cop car did the same, going the other way, hitting the pavement of the rural highway and racing off into the night.