Salem's Lot - Stephen King [168]
‘No-simply made up.’
‘It amounts to the same thing. Tell me, in the company you work for do they approve of executives making decisions on the basis of internal beliefs rather than external facts? That’s not logic, Petrie; that’s cant.’
Petrie stopped smiling and stood up. ‘Your story is disturbing, I’ll grant you that. You’ve involved my son in something deranged, possibly dangerous. You’ll all be lucky if you don’t stand in court for it. I’m going to call your people and talk to them. Then I think we had all better go to Mr Burke’s hospital room and discuss the matter further.’
‘How good of you to bend a principle,’ Callahan said dryly.
Petrie went into the living room and picked up the telephone. There was no answering open hum; the line was bare and silent. Frowning slightly, he jiggled the cut-off buttons. No response. He set the phone in its cradle and went back to the kitchen.
‘The phone seems to be out of order,’ he said.
He saw the instant look of fearful understanding that passed between Callahan and his son, and was irritated by it.
‘I can assure you,’ he said a little more sharply than he had intended, ‘that the Jerusalem’s Lot telephone service needs no vampires to disrupt it.’
The lights went out.
19
Jimmy ran back to Matt’s room.
‘The line’s out at the Petrie house. I think he’s there. Goddamn, we were so stupid-’
Ben got off the bed. Matt’s face seemed to squeeze and crumple. ‘You see how he works?’ he muttered. ‘How smoothly? If only we had another hour of daylight, we could… but we don’t. It’s done.’
‘We have to go out there,’ Jimmy said.
‘No! You must not! For fear of your lives and mine, you must not.’
‘But they-’
‘They are on their own! What is happening-or has happened-will be done by the time you get out there!’
They stood near the door, indecisive.
Matt struggled, gathered his strength, and spoke to them quietly but with force.
‘His ego is great, and his pride is great. These might be flaws we can put to our use. But his mind is also great, and we must respect it and allow for it. You showed me his letter - he speaks of chess. I’ve no doubt he’s a superb player. Don’t you realize that he could have done his work at that house without cutting the telephone line? He did it because he wants you to know one of white’s pieces is in check! He understands forces, and he understands that it becomes easier to conquer if the forces are split and in confusion. You gave him the first move by default because you forgot that-the original group was split in two. If you go haring off to the Petries’ house, the group is split in three. I’m alone and bedridden; easy game in spite of crosses and books and incantations. All he needs to do is send one of his almost-Undead here to kill me with a gun or a knife. And that leaves only you and Ben, rushing pell-mell through the night to your own doom. Then ‘salem’s Lot is his. Don’t you see it?’
Ben spoke first. ‘Yes,’ he said.
Matt slumped back. ‘I’m not speaking out of fear for my life, Ben. You have to believe that. Not even for fear of your lives. I’m afraid for the town. No matter what else happens, someone must be left to stop him tomorrow.’
‘Yes. And he’s not going to have me until I’ve had revenge for Susan.’
A silence fell among them.
Jimmy Cody broke it. ‘They may get away anyway,’ he said meditatively. ‘I think he’s underestimated Callahan, and I know damned well he’s underestimated the boy. That kid is one cool customer.’
‘We’ll hope,’ Matt said, and closed his eyes. They settled down to wait.
20
Father Donald Callahan stood on one side of the spacious Petrie kitchen, holding his mother’s cross high above his head, and it spilled its ghostly effulgence across the room. Barlow stood on the other side, near the sink, one hand pinning Mark’s hands behind his back, the other slung around his neck. Between them, Henry and June Petrie lay sprawled on the floor in the shattered glass of Barlow’s entry.
Callahan was dazed. It had all happened with such swiftness that he could not take it in. At one moment