Cain's Blood (27 page)

T
ed saw it coming: All that death.

Or, rather, he
felt
it. he’d experienced the exact same
sensation in that house in Orchard City. Like there was
something crawling inside of him, something alive with
many legs, many legs with many teeny claws. Growing more and longer

legs each day, each hour.
The “Dark Man.”
The same dude who’d carved up that Johnny kid and a bunch

of other kids too, without missing a step. It was the feeling that guy
brought with him that struck Ted the most: Part dread and part relief.
And part, well,
HOME
. The tickly sensation that everyone in the house
was soon going to die had hung on him for a couple days, and he’d
progressively gotten used to it. he’d even started to enjoy it. And it had
gotten stronger as the night settled again on them all. Ted had to smile
at that.
Even monsters are a little more afraid in the dark.

They’d been in the house, another one of the rentals they’d broken
into, for almost three days.
Too long,
he thought.
Probably best to go.
kill
the little faggot and get moving again. But Jeff wasn’t done with the
Jacobson kid yet. Not by a long shot, from the sound of things.
Shit
. Te d
shook his head. Those two had been going at it all day. And Al, fucking Al, was out of it. That guy was done, fried. A mumbling retard who
didn’t make sense anymore. Maybe he’d been feeling the Dark Man’s
approach. Maybe crazy Al also knew what was coming.

Ted thought,
He’s upstairs with Al even now. I can about picture him
cutting, cutting. Hacking around the spine and pulling out that muscle. Almost as if it was me doing the tasty knife work. . . .
he clung to the new
feeling. It almost replaced the other that racked his whole body. The
ever-growing sensation that he was stuffed, full. Like he needed to drop
the world’s greatest deuce but couldn’t. even his fucking fingers were
swollen like little fat-kid sausages. And all that scratchy black shit on his
skin.

he was in the basement again, watching the two Jeffs, when the
door above pushed open and Al came down the steps. Only it wasn’t really Al anymore.

This
Al, the new one, was limp and floppy like a giant dick. All
folded up on himself, sort of collapsed in the middle in a couple of unnatural places. And he didn’t walk down the stairs as much as he seemed
to float over them while leaving a dark trail of vivid red blood on the
carpet beneath his feet.

even Jeff had turned and stopped to watch. he was wearing some
kind of blue wizard’s hat with giant mouse ears on the sides. Other than
that hat, he and the Jacobson kid were both totally naked again.

Al moved down the last few steps and into the light, and then Ted’s
recent minute-ago prophecies all came to pass. The Dark Man stood
right behind the kid, holding Al up with one arm. The other arm carried
a long blade. The man slid down the last few steps easily, like another
shadow moving into the one-bulbed room. Ted could barely make out
the skeletal body, the misshapen head.

As the two moved closer, Ted could see where one of the man’s
black arms was jammed up into Al’s back. Behind the shoulder blades
and up behind the kid’s head. Ted half expected Al to start yapping, the
man’s fingers moving the dripping jaws from the inside like some kind
of puppet. At the bottom step, Al’s body—or, rather, the half-gutted
shell
of Al’s body—pitched forward as if he’d been trying to fly.

C AIN ’ S BLOOD 275

More blood speckled the wall as Al arched and crashed face-first
onto the floor with a wet, heavy sound. his upper back lay open, hollowed, the peg from the top of his spinal column and some tendons
lodged in the bloody cavity. Bulbous, pearl-colored lumps glistened in
fields of black along the top of Al’s shoulders and the lower back.

Al’s killer stepped over the boy and moved toward Ted.
Ted was ready and lifted up his shirt. his own black lumps ran
from his neck down to his groin. Several had sprouted long black hairs.
“Look, man,” he almost laughed. One on Ted’s side had split open to
reveal a pair of teeth and what looked like what might become a tongue.
“Look at this shit. yeah? you see that?” Closer still, Ted decided it was
not something human. “Look, dude! I’m like you. you should see the
shit I’ve done these past few—”
The blade slashed out.
Ted fell back, fire scorching across his chest and neck.
he collapsed to the floor, the dark thing looming over him. Bulging
rat eyes stared down into Ted’s, a mouth opening to release what Ted
could only think of as a hiss. Breath hot with the stink of fresh decay.
The man-thing stepped away. Moved across the room toward the
two Jeffs. Ted fumbled on the floor, brought his hands to the drenched
gouge in his chest. So sticky and warm, the blood running freely over
his fingers.
Jeff Williford had grabbed his knife from the table—the one he’d
used on Jacobson’s kid—and Ted watched dreamily as Williford moved
toward the Dark Man.
Then that stupid wizard’s hat and mouse ears were falling to the
floor. Jeff Williford’s head still inside. his naked body remained standing for one beautiful moment, gushing from its neck like a blood-filled
fountain. Then it, too, fell to the floor beside the mouse ears.
The Dark Man advanced toward the other Jeff, the one in the chair.
Ted propped himself up to watch as best he could and wondered
some if that damned Jacobson kid had seen it coming, too.

Jeffrey Jacobson felt the thing standing behind him.
Breath hot and wet against his scrunched, bare shoulder blades. The
warmth off its body. Several jagged nails moving slowly under his chin.

And he could almost hear its thoughts. he’d imagined it upstairs
for some time now. he’d pictured it chopping into the boy called Al,
ripping away that muscle and weird fatty stuff inside. Almost as if he’d
been doing it himself. A dark place he’d gone over the last two days
while that boy . . .

While Jeff . . .
he was still tied to the chair, but he knew there was nowhere to go
even if he wasn’t. It seemed sort of silly now. All of it. he’d been wrong.
If he’d been able to speak, he’d say it aloud. Tell everyone: There was no
real Jeff Jacobson. Or Jeff Dahmer, for that matter either.
There was only Cain.
Warm water splashed over his back and soaked the top of his head.
The table beneath him turned red. Like a magic trick. Like a sorcerer’s spell. And the red on the table was blood, he realized, and his
instant silhouette—his own head and shoulders—appeared on the table
outlined by the spatter.
All sound vanished. Then something like thunder pierced his ears.
This is DEATH
, he thought.
he felt great weight fall against his body and then slide away again.
he heard more thunder.
Gunshots.
Something touched his face, lifted his head.
The light above burned his eyes, and he crept back into the darkness again. The burn from the ropes slackened suddenly.
Then nothing.
he felt himself being lifted from the chair.
Like flying.
he forced one eye open.
“Castillo,” he said.
“I got you, pal.”

NO MOre TALk Of ShAMe

J

eff woke. for all he knew, he was still in his own house in haddonfield the night his father left. The night Castillo arrived. And
all the rest, all of it, the worst of it, had been a nightmare. Imagined the whole thing.
For all he knew . . .

yet his entire body ached a thousand different ways. And a man
stood at the end of his bed, fading in and out like another ghost.
Maybe
that’s all I am now, too.

A small black man came into focus. The smile already so familiar . . .
“you’re safe.”
But Ox hadn’t spoken.
The voice had been Castillo’s, and Jeff tried turning to it.
“Take it easy,” the voice said.
Jeff torpidly skimmed the rest of the room. Sparse. Bare walls, a cot,

a rusted metal desk.
“you’re safe,” Castillo said again. “But, Jeff . . . hey?”
“yeah.” his own voice sounded like high, cold wind far away. he

followed Castillo’s to train his sights on him. The man’s face was exhausted, sorrowful. Jeff didn’t need a mirror to see the damage Castillo
was looking at. As much as Castillo was trying to hide it, Jeff could see it
in his eyes.
I’m broken.
he fought to sit up. Couldn’t. “Where are we?”

“My place,” Ox spoke for the first time. “everything’s gonna be
fine.”
“Where’s my dad?” Jeff asked Castillo.
Castillo shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jeff. I tried to . . .”
Jeff looked away. fixated on the wall. “One of those things killed
him,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
“yeah. how’d—”
“I just know.”
“Jeff, I’m so sorry, man. But you’ve . . . ,” Castillo said, refocusing
his effort to make everything seem normal. “But I need you to only
focus on
you
at the moment. On getting better. I got some more work to
do before it’s
over
over and then—”
“you’re going to DSTI, aren’t you? They’ll just kill you, too.”
“They’re going to try to soon, anyway. This way, maybe my own
timetable. My terms. Might help.”
Jeff turned back. “I want to go, too,” he said.
“Not possible. you should be in a hospital as it is. you should . . .
you’re going to need help for a long, long time. you’ve been through
something terrible, I know. Believe me. And, as soon, as we can, I’ll
get you all the help you need. But, you’re not going anywhere until we
know for sure DSTI and Stanforth and all the rest are done with us.
With you. Jeff, you need to understand—”
Castillo had only glanced, but enough. Jeff followed the look.
found his arm had been bandaged. “What’s this?”
“We’re gonna get you what you need.”
“It’s that stuff that henry had, isn’t it? That black stuff.”
“yeah,” said Castillo. “A little bit. yeah.”
“I took some pills once a week.” Jeff gently touched the bandage.
“My dad said I had allergies.”
“Guess it depends on how you define allergy,” Ox said.
“The other kids . . .”
“At DSTI? Not your problem. you need to—”
Jeff shook his head. “Now
you
don’t understand.”
“Look, if there are any kids left.  .  .  .” Castillo looked over at Ox.
“We’ll get as many as we can. I promise. Ox has a couple pals that are
gonna help me. you’re gonna stay here with him, where it’s safe.”
“But I can help!”
Castillo reached out to comfort, put a hand lightly on Jeff’s shoulder. “you’ve already helped more than anyone. you’re gonna stay put
right here. We’re waiting for one more guy to show up to help Ox here,
and then I’m off to DSTI.”
“Trust ’im, little man,” Ox said. “he can handle it.”
“yeah?” Jeff lifted his hand. It was shaking. The nails worn to nubs.
“Well, it’ll be easier to handle it with this.”
“What’s that?” Castillo asked. he leaned back, curious. half smiling, even.
This damn kid.
“keys,” Jeff wiggled his fingers. “five keys.”
“Security system?” Ox said. “Oh, my.”
Jeff nodded.
“No,” Castillo said. “We can get around their security without that.
hell, I’m looking for a front-door invitation anyway.”
“But I know DSTI.
And
Massey. Like where they keep all the drugs
and stuff. And . . . and there’s even this tunnel underneath the grounds
that connects them. I’ve gotten into there a couple times. I bet—”
“I said no. Goddamn it, you’re done. No more. Those fucking monsters ain’t ever getting near you again.”
“ ‘
If you are curious, Father, watch and see the stuff that’s in me
.’ ”
Castillo stared hard at the boy. “What did you say?”
“ ‘
Watch and see the stuff that’s in me. No more talk of shame
.’ Telémakhos says it to his father right before that battle at the end.”
“yeah, he does.” Castillo collapsed, head down on his chest, both
hands out to hold the boy.
“I’m not gonna hide anymore,” Jeff said. “Not from the monsters.”
“No such thing, Jeff.”
“you know that’s not really true.”
Castillo did. “I killed it,” he said.
Killed two, actually.
“But there’s more.” Jeff blinked.
Castillo knew that also. “yeah,” he admitted.
“And they’re looking for me right now.”
Castillo and Ox exchanged glances.
“I think they’re real close,” Jeff said.
Castillo sighed heavily, looked back at Jeff.
“Should we bug out?” Ox asked.
“To where?” said Castillo, still looking at the boy. “If they can find
him here, they can find him anywhere. Can you think of a better place
to do this than here?”
“Would I be ‘here’ if I did?”
Castillo smiled. “Ok. Plan B, then.”
Ox stood to leave. “I’ll round up the guys.”
“Soon,” Castillo promised, patted Jeff’s leg. “Give me one more
day,” he said.
The boy nodded.

Jeff shielded his eyes from the midday light. Trees surrounded them at
every turn for what felt like a thousand miles. “Where are we?” he whispered. “Looks like the middle of nowhere.”

“North of,” Castillo replied, surveying the property with him, helping him with each step. “It’s only another place. Come on.”
Ox met them again at the foot of the ramp. Gave a brief tour of
the encampment by pointing: half a dozen different trailers and sheds
spread haphazardly among the trees. Solar panels, generators. Paddocks
for livestock, chicken coops, a small dog kennel. Barns for a couple
horses. Down the road were another dozen lodges and trailers scattered
throughout the three hundred acres, Ox explained. Several, he added,
led to underground bunkers. “for the fallout,” he said. “There’d be
mass strikes in the west, you know.” he smiled when he said it.
They walked slowly, matching their pace to Jeff’s, who walked
stiffly. Lifelessly.
They reached the camp’s main provisions and armaments complex,
a V-shaped structure of two long igloo-style halls joined at the bottom
by a central kitchen facility. Inside the chow hall, three men waited. Two
in summer camouflage appeared at the foot of the trailer’s ramp. Twins,
black-masked with ballistic vests and well-adorned Ar-15s. The third of
indeterminate age beneath a thick beard and long hair. “Sir,” one of the
men nodded to Castillo.
“how many people live out here?” Jeff whispered, sitting slowly.
“Classified,” Ox whispered back, winking at Castillo.
The third man handed them each a tray of food.
Ox read Jeff’s face. “Ain’t never had T-rats before, huh?”
“Army food,” Castillo explained. “Probably older than you are,
knowing Ox. Never as terrible as they look, though. regardless, you
need to eat.”
Jeff thanked the bearded man, worked at opening the packaging.
“Ok, Mr. Classified,” Castillo asked Ox. “This it? Six total, yes?”
“Including you and me. Last came in an hour ago. Best I could do.
Already got him out on security to relearn the terrain with rosfeld.”
“five more than I had a week ago. Thanks, man.”
“They’re coming tonight?” one of the men asked.
“yeah,” Jeff replied.
The entire room turned to him.
“I’m telling you . . .” Jeff’s face braced, looked at Castillo only. his
small shoulders shivered. “Tonight.”
“Tonight,” Castillo endorsed him. “Also could be in ten minutes.
But these, ah, men, were specifically developed, trained, to work in the
night.”
“So,” Ox drew a breath. “how’d you run it if you were them?”
“If they don’t simply pitch a drone at us, I’d wait until early morning and put their super soldier, or
soldiers
, dead center. run ’em straight
up the gap or maybe Mff insertion.” he made a dropping motion with
his hand to indicate a high-altitude free fall. “helicopters can’t really
get in here. Too wooded. Couple spots in close that they’ll consider,
maybe over by the paddocks, but we got those russian SA-14s of yours
for that.”
“What kind of special forces guys we talking about?” one of the
others asked.
“One or two men,” Castillo said.
Keep calling them men. For their sake.
And yours . . .
“Who the hell are these guys?” the man returned.
“Don’t know,” Castillo said.
I really fucking don’t.
“But I can tell you
they travel light, fast. fastest I’ve ever seen. They use special camouflage, face paint. Stick to the shadows and you’ll lose ’em. Thermals
won’t work. But they’ll come in close anyway. Like working with
blades.”
“Blades?” The other men exchanged looks.
“uh-huh. And while they’ll cut through you to get there, they’ll
only be after the boy.”
The room looked at Jeff again.
“he’ll be with me,” Castillo said. “Just close on me if the fire lines
break. you’ll find the real bad guys there. And, bullets
will
work fine.”
Ox cleared his throat. Smiled.
There ARE Bad Guys in this world, Ox. I know you know it, too. . . .
“So,” Castillo pushed on. “These two, or one, or three . . . if I were
them, I’d have another group. regulars. have ’em come in slow from
the outside; secure the perimeter with maybe two dozen men. ATf,
maybe. Local cops, I hope. They’ll doubtless tell everyone we’re some
kinda whacko survivalist cult, or gun runners for the Taliban. Worst
case, it’ll be mercs or current Special Ops. If they go that route, our
defensive position won’t be enough. In any case, I’d set up snipers like
this”—he pointed at the maps lying on the table—“here-here-here and
so on, to take out anyone hoping to get out of the kill hoop. Steadily
squeeze in. Let these special units do what they do best. That’s what I’d
do.”
“Then, that’s what they’ll do,” Ox said. “So what’s
our
plan?”
“So we . . .” Castillo picked up his package of peaches and laid it in
the center of the table. “Stay tight. here. keep the bunker as the fallback. Work the interior lines up top. Take out the special units first. See
if the others even have the orders to come in anyway. regardless, reset
your claymores to funnel them here and here. Couple of rounds to piss
’em off. If it’s ATf or local boys, they’ll be spoiling for a fight and take
the bait. They like to pretend they’re real soldiers. Some of our own
sniper fire here, open up the snare some. keep ’em honest. They’ll have
thermal imaging,” he turned to Ox.
“Just so happen to have a shipment full of those new German combat ponchos. Gortex, mylar insulation. We’ll put everyone in masks.
They might hit us with gas.”
“yeah,” Castillo looked at Jeff. “They might.”
And maybe we’ll hit them with what I now have. . . .

he was thinking of the small canister he’d retrieved from Ted’s dead
body. he had little doubt as to what was inside.
One of Ox’s crew spoke up again. “Twenty or more against, what,
seven? We won’t hold out very long.”
“If at all. We’ll bend back pretty quick. retreat. Create a gap here.
The reserves come in after our retreat here and here. Draw ’em in.”
“Like Cannae,” the bearded man said.
“yup.”
“What’s that?” Jeff asked.
“Like a pincer.” Castillo made his thumb and finger into a u and
squeezed them together. “Double envelopment. Sucker ’em down the
middle, make it look like a retreat, and then hit from the flanks. hannibal used it at the battle of Cannae, where he was outnumbered three to
one against the romans.”
“It worked?”
“Big time. hopefully, they’ll recognize it for what it is. That’ll give
us our chance to try a variation on hannibal. Interlocking fire here,
here. With four men, like this . . .” Castillo pointed.
“yup, yup,” one of the others nodded. “Ox didn’t pick this property
for its scenic charm.”
“yeah,” Castillo agreed as he looked at him, then around the room.
“except for the special units, we will avoid enemy casualties where
possible. Incapacitate, take prisoners, chase ’em off. But these aren’t
enemies. Most all of these guys won’t even know why they’re really up
here. They’re only following orders, doing their damn jobs. And they’ll
have been lied to. understood?”
“Castillo’s running the show,” Ox reminded quickly.
All the men nodded in agreement.
“Our objective is to put up a good show,” Castillo said. “Draw ’em
in enough to make a mess of things.”
“Why don’t you guys double-check the claymores,” Ox said, releasing them. “They might not wait until night. Get the roof stationed. Be
out in a minute.”
Castillo watched and waited as the three men filed out of the room.
They’d spent the day sizing Castillo up. he’d done the same. They
were a collection of “Misfit Toys,” castoffs. The lunatic fringe of the
American right. Or Left. he wasn’t sure that even mattered anymore.
Somewhere along the way (right or left, right or wrong), they’d all
fallen off, or
stepped
off, society’s great grid.
How many more months would
he have spent waiting in a trailer in New Mexico before joining them somehow, someday, anyway?
he decided half of the men knew what they were
doing. The other half were weekend warriors at best. Prepper militia
types. how would they do when the bullets really started flying?
“you don’t have to do this,” he said.
“Sure I do,” Ox replied.
“Why?”
Ox reset his glasses. “Let’s just say I want my two sons living in a
place and time worthy of them.”
Castillo nodded. “And these other guys are just as sure about it?”
Ox replied, “‘All experience hath shewn that mankind is more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by
abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.’”
“uh-huh. I repeat, your guys sure about this?”
“Are
you
sure about the counterstrike after?”
“Nope,” Castillo said as he picked up his peaches, tossing them onto
Jeff’s tray. “Not by half. But we’ll cover after
after
.”
“Copy,” Ox said. “Then you sure about Now?”
Castillo shook his head. “Christ, I’m not even sure about Before
anymore.”
“Oh.” Jeff looked up from his plate. “you’ll actually get used to
that.”