Authors: J. G. Faherty
The first choice made more sense. But John’s nerves were on edge from not knowing if Danni and Mitch were safe.
It’s more than that, too. Something’s still not right here. Like there’s a bomb close by and time’s running out.
It was the sense of urgency to get his friends to safety that made up John’s mind. He said the words to cancel his wards and then, with a silent prayer he was doing the right thing, he picked up a rock, smashed it through the small window next to the front door, and opened the door.
“Danni? Mitch?”
John was halfway across the living room when the chimera burst through the door behind him, three hundred pounds of human, pig, bear, and wolf rolled into a single deadly creature. Moving faster than anything so large had a right to, it attacked with a roar that shook the walls.
John avoided the creature’s claws but not a bruising knee that struck him in the ribs. He threw the open bottle of Holy Water at the demon, which bellowed in pain as the liquid burned tiny holes in its skin. John got to his knees and drew his long-barreled Colt .45, loaded with silver bullets blessed by a priest. But the chimera recovered more quickly than he’d expected and charged again just as John pulled the trigger. The shot went wide, and then he found himself buried under the massive beast, fighting to breathe and struggling to keep the thing’s claws from his throat.
The chimera raised one arm for a killing blow. John jammed the gun against the creature’s chest, knowing he’d have time for only one more shot.
With a silent prayer, he pulled the trigger.
* * *
Danni and Mitch gasped at the sound of glass breaking upstairs.
“Danni? Mitch?”
“It’s John!” Mitch shouted.
“Mitch, wait!”
Before Danni could stop him, he ran toward the basement stairs. Danni followed, calling a warning to John that was drowned out by a terrible roar. A moment later, they heard John’s shout and the sound of bodies hitting the floor. Danni grabbed Mitch’s hand just as he was about to open the basement door.
“Don’t! You don’t know what’s out there.”
“We have to help John.”
More sounds of struggle reached them through the door. Something heavy fell over. “We can’t—”
Wood exploded over their heads and a fist-sized hole appeared in the door above them, simultaneous with the blast of a gun going off.
“Get down!” Danni grabbed Mitch and pulled him back.
In the living room, something heavy hit the floor. A second shot sounded, and the unseen beast roared again. Then everything went silent.
Danni held her breath and tried to hear over her pulse pounding in her ears. Nothing. Then...
The floorboards creaking over their heads as someone—or
something
—entered the kitchen.
At the top of the stairs, the door slowly opened. Mitch clutched Danni’s arm as a small whimper escaped his throat.
A figure appeared in the doorway.
“Danni?”
“John!” Mitch pounded up the stairs. “You’re back!”
“Are you two all right?” John asked, hugging Mitch with one arm. In his other hand, he held a large pistol.
“Yes.” Danni wrapped her arms around both of them. “I tried to warn you about that...thing. We saw it outside. But...”
“Don’t worry, it’s dead.” John stepped back, pulling them into the kitchen. “But we need to leave before Christian springs any other surprises on us.”
“Where will we go?” Danni reluctantly let go of John so he could keep his gun hand free.
“It doesn’t matter. Anywhere. Two or three towns from here should be fine. We’ll get you settled in a hotel and then I’ll come back and finish things here.”
“I’ve already got overnight bags packed.”
“Good.” John steered them away from the living room. “Take the gun and stay here. I’ll go get them.”
Five minutes later, John was backing the car down the driveway. A flash of anger ran through Danni as she watched her house receding.
Damn Cyrus Christian, whatever he is, for doing this to us. Making us abandon our home. No matter what it takes, I want to see him dead.
“I know what you’re feeling.”
Danni looked over at John. His face held no expression, but something in his eyes told her he really did know.
“How?”
A slight twitch of his lips gave away the effort it was taking to keep his face impassive. “He did the same thing to me. Twice, now. Made me feel unwelcome in my own home. Made me feel...violated, the way people do when they’ve been robbed. A person’s home is supposed to be their sanctuary. What he does...it’s like what armies do when they come through a town or village and force everyone to flee.”
Danni nodded. He’d put her feelings into words perfectly. “I hate him.”
“So do I,” Mitch said from the backseat.
“You’re supposed to. That’s his purpose in our world, to fuel hate and anger and fear and loathing. It’s all he knows how to do. It’s all he
can
do.”
“But why?” Mitch asked. “Why does something like him even exist?”
John shrugged. “People have wondered about evil since...well, since forever. The Bible tells one story. Native Americans have others. Every culture has their tales of how Evil came into our world. I don’t have an answer. I only know that the great powers in our universe are just like people. Some are very good, some are very bad. Most are in between. Darkness and light, with gray in the middle.”
“That sucks.”
Danni found herself laughing out loud, and even John managed a lopsided smile.
“Yes, it does, Mitch,” John said. “But there’s nothing you can do about it except try to be more good than bad and hope you never encounter true Evil.”
“Too late for that.” Danni felt her anger returning.
John’s sudden intake of breath brought her attention back to the road. She immediately saw the reason for his surprise, and why he was already bringing the car to a stop.
A quarter mile ahead, a police car blocked the entrance to the highway. They already had a car stopped, and two officers were talking to the driver. They were too far away for Danni to see their expressions, but something in their body language told her they weren’t in pleasant moods.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” John’s eyes narrowed as he watched. “It could be something routine, or it could be...” John’s voice trailed off as the two officers pulled their guns and aimed them into the car they’d stopped. A moment later, the
bang-bang
sound of several shots reached them.
“Oh, my God,” Danni whispered. She blinked several times, trying to process the fact that she’d just seen the local police, probably men she knew and waved to every day, execute someone in cold blood.
“Damn.” John hit the gas and spun the wheel, turning the car in a sharp U-turn and heading back the way they’d come.
“Where are you going?” It struck Danni that she’d never heard John curse before.
“We need to get to the other side of town. Fast. Hopefully this was just an isolated incident. Otherwise our time, and the town’s, is running out faster than I thought.”
Danni asked him what he meant, but he just shook his head and concentrated on driving, taking the back roads rather than Main Street to the south end of Hastings Mills. Near the edge of town, he turned onto an older road that brought them past several farms before winding up a hill. At the top, John pulled over and got out.
“Where are you going?” Danni hurried to join him.
“Look.”
From their vantage point, Danni was able see the whole south edge of Hastings Mills spread out before them, including the four corners where Main Street turned into Rural Route 17S and eventually meandered its way to Allenville.
At the intersection, several cars and trucks blocked the road. Men with guns stood by them, looking in all directions.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s Christian,” John said. “He’s making sure no one leaves town. He’s sealed us off.”
“He can’t do that! Sooner or later people will talk. Other police will show up.”
John shook his head. “He only has to isolate the town for a few days. With Chief Showalter’s help, they can come up with some excuse, a chemical spill maybe, to keep people from entering. As for people trying to leave...we’ve already seen how they’ll handle that.”
“So we’re trapped.”
“Yes. But things aren’t as hopeless as they seem.”
“They couldn’t be.” Danni took a deep breath. “Sorry. Why not?”
“It means Christian is getting ready to finish things here. It’s possible he’ll be so busy with whatever he’s planning that he won’t bother coming after us. After all, he knows we can’t leave.”
“It’s
possible
? That’s not very reassuring.”
“Nothing’s a hundred percent sure.” John headed back to the car. “All I can do is prepare us for whatever he might have in store, and hope I can stop him before he brings the whole town to the ground.”
* * *
Billy Ray Capshaw’s fingers couldn’t stop sneaking down into his front pocket and touching the roll of money pressing against his leg with every step. The temptation to just keep walking, past the business district and right out of town, was almost too tempting. The only thing that stopped him was knowing the money he’d collected wasn’t good for much more than a bus ticket and a couple of nights in a motel.
Nothing compared to what I can grab after the fair,
he kept telling himself.
And then there was that awful feeling he had, that if he took off and didn’t get far enough away, Cyrus Christian would find him somehow, and it wouldn’t be a very pleasant meeting. No, he needed more money, if only to put a safe distance between himself and...
whatever the hell Christian is.
Billy Ray cursed at his thoughts. He tried not to let ideas like that enter his head. He hated sounding crazy to himself, but in the back of his mind was the unnerving suspicion that sometimes Christian could tell what he was thinking.
And if he finds out what’s really in my head...
Not for the first time, he wished he’d listened to Chief Showalter when the man had told him to get out of town. Now, he was stuck in a crazy, fucked-up world where even the goddamn weather didn’t act right, and the people were worse.
He’d seen it all day long, as he trudged from one business to the next, exchanging the sweltering heat outside for the frigid stares and barely-controlled violence of the people inside. Each time it was the same. He’d go in and find himself getting the cold shoulder from people who looked like they’d be just as happy chopping him to pieces as selling him something off their shelves. Only when they found out he was on business for Cyrus Christian, selling booth spaces and rolls of tickets for the fair, did their attitudes change, becoming deferential.
Each time, he wondered if maybe Christian’s name wouldn’t be enough to keep someone’s temper from exploding. That the next store he entered would be his last, and he’d leave in a body bag, a hole in his head or a screwdriver in his chest. More than once he’d seen someone’s hand slip below the counter, only to rise up, empty, as soon as Billy Ray mentioned Christian’s name. He wasn’t stupid. He knew plenty of shopkeepers kept a gun or bat hidden under the counter.
And each time nothing happened, each time he escaped from the stink of sweat and violence back into the tropical air and the waves of heat rising from sidewalks so scorching you felt it right through your shoes, he fingered the growing roll of money and felt the temptation to get the hell out of Dodge grow stronger.
Wiping sweat from his forehead and wishing he could stop for a beer, Billy Ray opened the door to Wilhelm’s Washers and Dryers and prayed he’d leave in one piece.
“The Old Ones require sacrifices, Billy.” Reverend Christian smiled, only this time he had the face of a coyote and eyes as red as lava. “Blood sacrifices. Soon your time will come, along with everyone else in Hastings Mills.” Coyote-Christian laughed and howled at the same time.
“Soon, Billy. Soon your time will come.”
Billy Ray cried out as he rolled over and fell to the floor.
“Just a fuckin’ dream,” he whispered, as he waited for his heart to stop pounding. Clammy sweat covered his body, and the urge to piss was so bad he wasn’t sure he could make it upstairs to the bathroom, so he ran out the basement entrance dressed in just his old boxers and let loose into one of the rose bushes lining the back of the church. Sweet relief filled him, helping to dull the terror of his nightmare.
When he’d finished, he flicked his cock to free up any loose droplets and then glanced at his watch.
Eleven-fifteen? Jesus.
After dropping off the money in Christian’s office, he’d taken a long cold shower and gone to bed, intending to take a quick catnap before getting dinner.
Christ almighty, I could use a few beers right now.
More than that, though, he craved human company, even if meant just sitting by himself and listening to other people around him having normal conversations.
Back in his room, he pulled on a clean tee and a well-worn pair of jeans. It was still beastly hot outside—
like livin’ in fucking Africa
—
but he’d always been of the opinion real men only wore shorts to the beach.
As it always did, the money in the closet called out to him, but he averted his eyes as he passed by, doing his best to not even think about it. Then he was outside and breathing the thick, steamy air, trying to clear the last of the dream from his head as he headed down Main Street.
The significance of the dream wasn’t lost on Billy Ray. He might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, God knew he’d proven
that
more than once, but his mother hadn’t raised no idiot, either. That dream had been his brain telling him that if he wanted to get out of Hastings Mills alive, he’d better be ready to grab all the cash he could and get the fuck out of town before Christian put his plan into action. Billy Ray had no idea what that plan was, but it was a pretty safe bet a lot of people were gonna end up dead from it.