Authors: Eric S Brown
Patrick held his breath and prayed like there was no tomorrow, and he wasn’t altogether certain there would be a tomorrow—for him or anyone else. The thing sniffed the air like an animal. It lingered for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to he was worth the effort of killing, then it moved on.
Patrick sighed in relief.
The thing must have thought he was dead or something. He didn’t really care. He was just glad it was gone. Patrick had no gun, not that a firearm would do him any good if he did. He’d just seen younger and stronger men get ripped to pieces in spite of being knowledgeable about the pistols and shotguns they carried. His heart wasn’t what it used to be and his chest hurt something fierce as he rolled onto his back and tried to figure a way out of the mess he found himself in.
He’d lost count of how many of those things there were now. It seemed if they didn’t kill you outright, but just hurt you with their teeth or claws, you became one of them.
They were fast, too—fast enough that having a horse wouldn’t matter, either, unless you were moving full speed before they ever saw you. Otherwise, they’d just drag you from the saddle and eat you anyway. With a trembling hand, he got his metal flask from his pocket and unscrewed it. “One more drink, Lord,” he whispered, “to settle my nerves.” He took a hit of the homemade rotgut and put away the flask. Wasn’t much he could do but make a run for it, and only a fool would bet on him making it.
Still, he had to try.
Margret would be waiting on him to come home, and if he was going to die, he wanted to be by his wife’s side. His bones creaked as he stood, or at least they felt like they did. The pain in his chest wasn’t getting better, either.
It was getting worse.
Patrick felt like a big heifer was standing on him, the pressure making it difficult to draw breath. He used the wall of the saloon to steady himself and stay on his feet. Something growled above him and his gaze shot upward. Frightened, he stared into the eyes of his death. One of the creatures was attached to the wall like a spider, its face so close he could smell its putrid breath. Patrick screamed as the thing let go of the wall and dropped onto him like a razor-covered ton of bricks.
Fourteen
O n the other side of town, Danny Reece was getting a lot more than he’d bargained for in coming to Reaper’s Valley. His plan had been such a simple one—get in, get his loot, and get the hell out of Dodge.
He’d ridden in three days earlier and began scoping out the routine of the town’s bank. He knew the sheriff would be new and not used to the area yet, if he’d even arrived by the time Danny made his move. It would’ve been so easy to walk into the bank tomorrow morning and ride out with the town’s money stashed in his saddlebags.
He cursed his luck, wishing he hadn’t dragged his feet and waited an extra day. Danny knew seeing the sun come up would take a miracle, and he didn’t expect to live through the night to see daylight. He didn’t know what the creatures in the street were and he sure as hell didn’t care to find out.
They bled and that was enough.
Danny was sure he’d killed two of the things as he’d fought his way to the town’s tailor shop where he readied himself to make his last stand. He’d snatched up a shotgun from the corpse of a man who had never got the chance to fire it again after he’d reloaded. Danny knew that shotgun had saved his life.
As he sprinted across the street, a creature wearing the flashy dress of a dancing girl made a grab for him. Danny squeezed the gun’s trigger as the shotgun bucked in his hands. The blast caught the woman dead on in her stomach. Her entrails poured to the dirt from the gaping hole the blast had torn through her. She howled and grasped at the strings of intestines dangling out of her midsection, trying to shove them back inside, forgetting about him entirely.
As he ran on, Danny scooped up a Winchester rifle from the corpse of the blacksmith, then dived through the tailor shop’s window. He landed roughly on the floor amid shards of broken glass that fell inside with him, showering his body and skittering across the immaculate wood floor. Danny wasn’t very talented at many things in this life, but he was good with guns.
A creature lurched through the window after him. With the speed of a trained soldier, Danny pumped the Winchester’s lever as he fired round after round into the monster until the gun clicked empty. The creature flopped to the floor, its extremities jerking in the spasmodic throes of death.
Danny squatted near the thing, pressed the barrel of his Colt to its head, and pulled the trigger to be sure the creature didn’t get back up. Both the rifle and the shotgun were empty and he had no extra ammo for them. Only his pistol remained with which he could defend his life.
He carried eighteen additional bullets for the six-shooter on his gun belt and five were still chambered inside his revolver. He knew it was nowhere near enough to take out the attacking horde, but Danny had never run away from a fight in his life, and he had no intention of taking the coward’s way out tonight.
He watched as two of the monsters closed in on his position. Danny fired a couple rounds at them, hoping to force them into taking cover, but the shots did nothing to slow them down. Both of the things came forward, heedless of the danger.
Danny chuckled. The things were fearless and, in a sick kind of way, he admired them for their unique brand of courage. He gave a shout and leaped from the shop, running to meet them head on, his six-gun blazing. Danny sent the lead creature to Hell before the other plowed into him, sinking it nails into his flesh as it pulled him close and tore a chunk of meat from his sinewy shoulder. Danny cried out and tried to push his attacker away, but the thing held fast. Its second bite ripped through the bank robber’s throat, sending hot blood spraying into the air from the wound.
Fifteen
Lori cowered with her legs hugged to her chest in her room above the saloon. All hell had broken loose on the street outside minutes before; but now, as she sat in the dark, weeping beside her bed, the night had fallen eerily quiet. The death-like silence was so intense, Lori felt like she was the only person left alive in the world
She ran a hand through her long, dyed red hair and wondered how many people were lying dead in the street outside her window. Lori was too terrified to even think of crawling to the grimy pane and taking a peek to see. She had seen some of the monsters scale the walls of the buildings in town as easily as she might walk across a road.
Her body shook with sobs as she picked at a loose thread on her dress. It was a nervous habit from her youth that she reverted to in her fear. Her gaze was fixed on the open window as she waited to see a pair of yellow eyes rise over its sill. Still, no monster came to call, so she sat and cried and continued to hope all of this madness was merely a bad dream.
Someone rapped lightly on the door to her room. “Lori,” a soft, male voice called to her. “It’s alright, honey. You can come out now. The monsters are gone.” The voice tugged on her heart with an hypnotic tone, though it was not one she recognized. There was an edge of an accent to it she couldn’t place.
She hugged her legs tighter, rocking gently back and forth, debating her options. Monsters didn’t talk, did they? she wondered. Surely whoever was on the other side of the door was telling the truth and had come to save her. Ever so slowly, she tried to calm down and rubbed at her red eyes, wiping away the tears. She straightened her dress and got to her feet.
“
Lori,” the voice called again as the door opened and a man entered her room. He shined like an angel from heaven. The man wore all white and smiled at her as he reached out and took her hand in his own, stroking it with white gloved fingers. She plunged into his arms and clung to him tightly as a fresh round of tears was born. He hugged her close as she sobbed into his chest. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he purred, running a hand gently up and down her spine.
“
Who are you?” Lori asked, her voice broken by the sobs wracking her voluptuous frame.
“
I’m your savior, Lori. I’ve come to give you a new life at my side—the one you’ve always dreamed of, where no one will ever hurt you or call you names ever again.” He broke from their embrace but kept his hold on her hand. “Come with me, Lori. I want you to meet your new family.”
With a hesitant smile, Lori followed him onto the open part of the second floor, which looked down into the saloon below. As she peered over the railing, a sea of yellow, hungry faces showing fanged teeth greeted her. She screamed and tried to pull away from the man.
“
What’s the matter with you, you little whore? Are we not good enough for you?” the man in white snarled.
He grabbed her and forced her into her room again, and then flung her onto her bed. His hands tore her best dress and pushed her thighs apart as he climbed on top of her. “Don’t you worry,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust and sin, “I’ll show you how good we can be together. And if you’re nice enough to me while I do it, maybe I won’t let the children have a turn with you afterwards.”
Sixteen
Beth and Michael’s escape from the saloon was harrowing. They’d made it through onto the rear side of the building, thinking themselves mostly concealed from the terrors in the street beyond. Unfortunately, they stumbled upon one of the creatures feasting on the gutted corpse of an old man. Its head swiveled in their direction as Michael jerked up his pistol.
“
Don’t!” Beth ordered as she shoved his gun down. “The noise will bring the others.” The thing hopped onto the saloon’s wall and scurried along it towards them. Beth and Michael ran for their lives. As they cleared the alley and sprinted on into the night, the creature reached the end of the wall and stopped, hanging sideways from the wood, watching them run. It roared after them but didn’t follow.
“
There’s a stable not too far from here,” Beth told Michael, panting. She took the lead, ripping her dress at her knees so she could move more freely as she went.
As they approached the stable, the horses were running wild inside the fences, scattered in a state of panic. A lone creature sat on the gate like a bird perched on a clothes line. It wore the body of a boy who couldn’t be more than twelve years old.
The thing twisted its neck when he heard their approach. Upon seeing Michael and Beth, he leaped from the top of the gate into the dirt. With an inhuman snarl, he came loping towards them. Michael’s hand flew on the hammer of his pistol. Blood sprayed as the bullets struck the boy and knocked him from his feet.
Beth kept moving as Michael fired. She knew others would be coming, drawn to their position by the sound of gunfire. The boy flipped himself through the air like an acrobat and landed in her path. Beth forgot all about the tiny Derringer she carried, and tore the necklace she wore nestled close to her heart from beneath her dress. She held it out at the boy. “Get away from us!” she shouted as the thing looked upon the cross she held. It’s yellow eyes burst into flames. The boy howled as his eyes blazed in their sockets and ran away, blindly, into the darkness.
Michael caught up to Beth, trying to catch his breath. “What did you do to him?” he asked.
Beth shook her head. “I didn’t do anything!” she snapped.
Michael noticed the cross in her hand. “I think I need to get me one of those.”
“
I wouldn’t bother,” Beth told him, cramming the cross into one of the stitched on pockets of her dress. “They only work for people with faith.”
Seventeen
Nathan, O’Rouke and Louis rode close together with Buck and Henson behind them. The sun had long ago sunk from the sky and the small group came to a stop at the top of a hill which looked down onto the town of Reaper’s Valley. Several of the town’s buildings were on fire and the night’s slight breeze caused the glowing embers in the flames to twirl about in the darkness like fireflies. “We’re too late,” Nathan moaned, taking in the destruction before them.
“
It’s never too late as long as you’re still kicking,” O’Rouke argued. “Let’s ride in there and show this demon of yours what Hell is really like.”
“
You try that and you’ll be dead before you ever get close to him,” Nathan said, shifting in his saddle to point at the saloon. “That’s where he is. He’ll be waiting on me to come to him.”
Louis squinted, trying to make out the shapes in front of the saloon more clearly. There appeared to be a crowd of people inside and around it. The way they moved told him they weren’t human anymore, but soulless, parasitic monsters. He thought of Beth and hoped she and her pa had made it to safety before the demon had moved in. “So, what do we do?” he asked no one in particular.
“
I say we forget about all of this and get out of here,” the kid, Henson, suggested.
“
And where would you go?” Nathan retorted. “Reaper’s Valley is just the beginning, boy. His evil will spread out from here like a plague until the whole world is consumed by it. His disease has been loosed. The only way to stop it is to kill him and take away the power that drives it.”
“
Look,” Buck grumbled, “I don’t believe in demons and all the hogwash you’re rambling on about, mister. I just want to live to see the sun come up. Something tells me that if we go riding in there,” Buck said, pointing at the town, “it ain’t gonna happen, now is it?”
“
There’s a fort north of here. What say we ride up there and get us some help?” O’Rouke suggested.