Midnight Solitaire by Greg F. Gifune Page A

right, we’re not going to hurt you. If you can hear me you need to come down from there.”
    “Kit,” Greer chimes in, thinking perhaps another female voice might comfort her, “it’s all right, just let us know if you’re there, OK?”
    “We have to find out if she’s up there,” Doc says. “It’s a vent, which means it leads to a way out.”
    “And another way in,” Luke says.
    “Exactly. Odds are it comes out somewhere on the roof. And if she’s used it and left an opening up there, he’ll find it.”
    “So throw some mayonnaise up in that bitch and say some more of your heebie-jeebie bullshit,” Luke cracks. “We’ll be all set.”
    “If she is up there, I’m sure she’s scared out of her mind,” Greer says. “There’s no telling what she saw.”
    “We’ve got two options,” Doc says.
    “We’re listening.”
    “We either check out the vent or we check out the roof. May end up having to do both.”
    “If she’s out in that storm she won’t last long,” Luke says.
    “But if she made it that far why not try to make it to her car?” Greer asks.
    Doc moves into the office behind the front desk. The army jacket over the back of the chair is far too small to have belonged to the man on the flagpole. He checks the pockets, comes back with a ring of keys. He returns to the lobby and tosses them on the counter. “Because when she made a break for it she didn’t have time to get to her keys.”
    “So now what?”
    “You want to go up there and check it out?” Doc asks Greer.
    “Me?”
    “You’re the only one that’ll fit.”
    “Shit.” She rubs her eyes, hoping to dissipate the slight headache lingering there. “Yeah, I—OK—fine.” She moves behind the counter.
    “It’s a relatively short distance to the roof so you’re probably only talking about fifty feet or so of shaft system. Once you can see to the end of it, if there’s still no sign of her then come back down and I’ll go out and check the roof.”
    “Hold up,” Luke says suddenly. “We got a bigger problem.”
    Doc and Greer turn in unison, drawn to the same thing Luke has seen.
    Barely visible in the darkness and heavy snowfall is the silhouette of a man standing in the middle of the road, his duster flapping in the wind.
    “Oh my God,” Greer whispers.
    Something suddenly ignites and encircles him, leaving him in the center of a small ring of fire, the flames reaching nearly halfway up his body and casting him in an eerie golden hue.
    Even as the snow slowly begins to extinguish the fire, he extends his arms out on either side of him, throws back his head and begins to laugh.

 
     
    TWELVE
    They watch as the last of the flames die and The Dealer is returned to darkness.
    “He wants us to know he’s here,” Doc explains. “He’s trying to frighten us.”
    “It’s working,” Greer says.
    The silhouette backs away, swallowed first by snow, then by night.
    Luke starts toward the door, .38 raised.
    Doc stops him, grabbing him by the shoulder firmly enough to prevent him from easily taking another step, but with a sufficient amount of restraint so that it isn’t perceived as assaultive. “You don’t want to go out there, son.”
    “He’s right in the middle of the road. I say we take him down now. He can’t stop us both if we hit him at the same time.”
    “You go out there now it’s suicide.”
    “None of this lighting shit on fire and magic man bullshit means dick to me, all right?” Luke squares his stance. “You want me to keep listening to you, then you better start making some goddamn sense.”
    “Listen to me or don’t, your decision.” Doc releases Luke’s shoulder and motions to the door. “You want to go out there and try to take him out, go. You’ll be dead before you can get a shot off.”
    “Then what’s the plan?”
    “We hold our ground.”
    Luke considers this a moment. “Let him come to us?”
    “He will in time. Just not right away, not now. He won’t cross this