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sp; Dez and JT piled out of the car and stared up the hill. The curve and screen of pines was four hundred yards away. So far they could not see any of the dead.
Were they all clustered around a red thing that no longer screamed? Or were they still coming?
God, Dez cried, her voice a shriek inside her own head, are they still coming?
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
MAGIC MARTI IN THE MORNING
WNOW RADIO, MARYLAND
“This is Magic Marti at the mike with new tidbits for travelers. Okay, kids, the storm is here. Batten down the hatches and make your peace with Jesus, ’cause this one’s a doozy. National Guard units are being deployed to those areas where high floodwaters are anticipated, and we’re already getting reports of small stream flooding in Fayette and low-lying towns to the north and west of Stebbins. If you live near a stream or river and still haven’t gotten to high ground, you better do it now or wave at Aunt Marti as you go swimming by. ”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
GREEN GATES 55-PLUS COMMUNITY
“Zombies?” Trout whispered. The word was so strange. It didn’t fit into his mouth. Zombies were movie stuff. Bela Lugosi and Hal Leighton. Old black-and-white late night stuff. The Ghost Breakers with Bob Hope. I Walked with a Zombie.
Zombies did not belong in the real world. Maybe in a National Geographic article. Not here in Pennsylvania. This was a serial killer story. This was Silence of the goddamn Lambs, not King of the goddamn Zombies.
“Wait, wait … you’re saying you guys were dabbling in black magic?”
“No, no, of course not,” said Volker, wiping the tear from his cheek. “There is nothing supernatural about this. Though, by your standards, it is perhaps unnatural. Neither the devil or Mother Nature had a hand in what we were doing. ” He paused. “In what I did. ”
“What did you do?” Trout and Goat asked at the same time.
Volker said, “Homer Gibbon. ”
“Oh, man…” breathed Goat.
Trout licked his lips. “Okay … tell us. ”
“As I said earlier, I have committed my fair share of sins. Not sins in the same way as Gibbon, but sins nonetheless. Ethical sins, not religious. I have no faith. It died with my family. And that is how I came to make the decision I made. ” He drank the rest of his coffee but still held onto the empty cup. “My handlers did not place me at Rockview by chance. It was one of several prisons in states where capital punishment was technically still on the books. I would have preferred a less liberal state … say, Texas, but they use the electric chair. That did not fit my needs. ”
“Needs?” echoed Trout.
“Death by lethal injection. I thought you were following me in this. ” Volker sniffed. “I wanted to be in a position where I could oversee the execution of a monster like Henker. Homer Gibbon was a perfect substitute. His crimes are every bit as heinous as those perpetrated by Henker. Gibbon has destroyed so many lives … and not just those of his victims. Their families are destroyed, ruined by what he did. If there was a God then divine justice would dictate that Gibbon burn in eternal torment. The thought that he would sit in a prison cell with television and a library and more comforts than millions of innocent people have…”
“Death row’s hardly the good life,” said Goat, but Volker turned an acid stare on him.
“Oh really? And when was the last time you visited the ghettos of West Baltimore or North Philadelphia? Have you seen the squalor and rampant destitution in Louisiana and rural Mississippi? Have you seen three or four families crowded into a rat-infested single room in Gary, Indiana or Birmingham, Alabama? No? Then please keep your privileged opinion to yourself. ”
Goat flushed a deep red and sank into his seat.
“I’ve made a point to visit these places,” said Volker. “Just as I’ve made it a point to visit women’s shelters, and child protection services offices, and support group meetings for families of victims of violent crime. My whole life … or, perhaps it would be fair and truthful to say ‘my obsession,’ has been to find a way to provide punishment for men such as Gibbon and Henker. Death row is inconvenient. It is not a punishment that fits the crime. ” His voice was as sharp as broken glass. “But I found a more appropriate punishment. ”
“Which is…?” asked Trout, and his heart was split between the reporter’s desire to get this story and the man’s dread of what Volker could say. Everything so far had been bizarre. Red Army, covert bioweapons research. Zombies.
Volker said, “Even ordinary execution is an escape for these killers. We tranquilize them first. They feel nothing, or at worst they feel a little discomfort and some fear in the days leading up to the execution. But, I ask you gentlemen—measure that against what their victims felt and what the victims’ families feel every single day for the rest of their lives. ” He shook his head fiercely. “No. That is a sin. That is immoral. That is fundamentally wrong and a crime against justice. ”
“What did you do?” asked Trout.
“I devised a way for these monsters to suffer. Not just during the execution … but afterward. Long, long afterward. ”
“That doesn’t make sense,” murmured Goat.