by JG Faherty
Then his eyes closed and he collapsed onto the road.
Johnny Ray groaned and reached for his radio as the first fire truck rounded the corner, siren crying.
I really hope this whole day is just a bad dream.
Then another thought came to him.
Kellie!
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Eddie waited until the ambulance was on its way to the hospital before re-entering Carson’s body. It hadn’t taken the EMTs long to revive him, and Eddie’d been afraid Jones might decide to just drive him home instead of getting medical help. But it turned out there’d been no reason to worry. The moment a groggy Carson told them he had no idea what had happened, Jones shook his head and told them to get him to the hospital as fast as they could.
Now the EMT sat less than three feet away, fiddling with some type of machine hooked to Carson’s arm. It pleased Eddie to no end that Roscoe Jackson was the tech who’d gotten the call.
The very same Roscoe Jackson who, while drunk in Homestead bar one night, had called Eddie’s father a no-good piece of shit. “Town’s better off with him gone.”
Despite all the times Eddie had said the very same thing, to himself and to Carson, he flew into a rage and attacked Roscoe, hammering at him with both fists while the EMT cowered on the floor, his arms protecting his face. Only the fact that Eddie had been wasted on tequila and Budweiser and missed with half his punches had saved Roscoe from any injury. That, in turn, had kept him from pressing charges on Eddie after the bouncers pulled them apart and the cops arrived. When Carson had asked him why he got into the fight, he’d given an honest answer.
“Only family gets to talk shit about family.”
“Hey, Roscoe,” Eddie said, just loud enough to be heard over the ambulance’s motor.
Jackson looked up, surprised to see his patient so alert.
He’s gonna be even more surprised in a second.
“You know who you are?” Jackson asked.
“Sure. I’m Super-Dog, woof woof!” Eddie crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at the barrel-chested, acne-faced man, who to his credit didn’t get flustered.
“You’re in an ambulance. Do you remember what happened to you?”
“Yep.” Eddie leaned forward and then raised his voice to a shout. “Hell Rider! Chrome and steel forged in Hell! Hell Rider, hear the tolling of death’s bell!” Still screaming the lyrics to his favorite metal song, he tried to throw a punch at the EMT.
And discovered his arms were strapped to his sides.
“What the fuck? Let me go, you motherfucker!” Eddie struggled against the canvas bonds but couldn’t free himself.
The EMT picked up a clipboard and made a note on a chart, then took a syringe and injected something into Eddie’s arm. Less than a second later, Eddie felt a heaviness come over him.
Perfect! Now Carson will be useless for hours. And without him around, that little bitch of his won’t dare do anything to stop me.
Grinning in anticipation, Eddie left Carson’s body behind and headed into town. He had a few scores to settle before it was time to finish off Hank for good.
And I haven’t forgotten that you’re on my list, Roscoe. I’ll be back for you in a little while.
* * *
The Hell Creek Theater occupied the southeast corner of Main Street and River Road. When Eddie and Diablo arrived, the blazing red marquee lights announced that the current showing was a double feature: Ascent of the Dead and Buzzsaw. Eddie checked the giant clock on the town hall tower, saw that it was almost ten-thirty.
Second movie’s already started, I’ll bet.
He’d chosen the movie theater because Denny Powell, Sandy’s fuckhole of a father, owned it. And Denny Powell always had a bug up his ass about Sandy dating Eddie. Thought Eddie wasn’t good enough for his little girl.
Wonder how he felt when she started dating Hank? How’d that grab you, douchebag? At least I didn’t get her killed. Or at least I wouldn’t have, if she and her boyfriend hadn’t killed me. Come to think of it, someone probably would have killed her sooner or later ’cause of her fucking around. Did you know your daughter was a hoe? I sure didn’t, but I guess I was the only one. Great big fucking joke on me.
Fuckin’ bastards.
Gritting his non-existent teeth, Eddie glided into the building. As usual, Powell was in his office, counting the night’s sales and entering the information into his computer. Eddie took up a spot across the room and let a trickle of energy flow from his fingers. In response, the lights flickered and sparks flew from the computer’s CPU.
“What the fuck?” Powell jumped up and stared at his dead computer.
“Should have been nicer to me,” Eddie said, even though Powell couldn’t hear him. “Now it’s time to join your cheating slut of a daughter.”
Eddie took control of Powell and walked him down to the projection room. Unlike the newer theaters in Miami or Homestead, with their state-of-the-art digital systems, the Hell Creek Theater still used an old-fashioned reel-to-reel projector. Eddie was intimately familiar with its workings, having spent more than a few nights banging Sandy on the floor of the projection room on those rare occasions her father took a day off and Sandy had to cover for him. More often than not, they’d have to stop in the middle of what they were doing so Sandy could switch to the second reel.
Steeling himself, Eddie stuck his hand directly between the lamp and the film strip. There was a sizzling sound and the smell of roasted pork quickly filled the air.
The pain was a thousand times worse than he’d expected and he cried out as the super-hot glass melted his skin. Bolts of lightning flashed through the room. The walls caught fire and the projector exploded, sending metal shrapnel through the air. Several pieces hit Eddie in the arms and chest, but he never felt them over the horrible agony in his hand.
In the theater, the screen went dark and people started yelling to “turn the movie on!”
Fighting to keep himself anchored in Powell’s body, Eddie staggered out the door and down the short staircase that led to one of the balconies.
“Movie’s over, assholes!” he shouted. “Eddie’s back in town!” Several movie-goers looked up and pointed. A woman cried out, and Eddie noticed his clothes were on fire. Laughing, he raised his arms and began singing as loud as he could.
“I am the wrath of Hell
Engine tolling death bell
Riding fire through the night
Demon raging fear your plight
Hell Rider!”
Screaming the last word so loud it shattered all the ceiling lights, Eddie launched himself off the balcony in a flaming swan dive.
He let Powell’s body fall halfway to the seats before he left it.
* * *
Kellie Jones heard someone calling her name. She tried to see who it was but couldn’t. Everything was black. The voice in the darkness grew louder, more urgent. She smelled smoke and panic rose up inside her. Fire! Something was on fire, but she couldn’t see what. Hands grabbed her shoulder and shook her, and she realized she couldn’t see because her eyes were closed.
She opened them and saw her father’s anxious face staring down at her.
“Dad?”
“Kellie! Thank God. Are you all right?”
Kellie pushed herself up into a sitting position. A quick bout of dizziness came and went, and she leaned against her father’s arm until she was sure it wasn’t coming back. A nearly full moon gave off just enough light to turn the yard a ghostly gray and her father’s face into a pale mask.
“What…where’s Carson?” She glanced around, noticed the charred blanket and burned grass off to one side. The candles were lumps of wax, the papers with her spell nothing but ashes already scattering in the mild breeze.
Something changed in her father’s face, and she knew he had bad news
about Carson. “Tell me.”
He shook his head, not in denial of her request but in regret over his next words.
“He’s…he’s not well, Kellie. He had a breakdown of some kind. I found him down the road from here. He was incoherent, and he’d been lighting fires. I tried to talk to him but he just passed out. He’s in the hospital now.”
“Oh, no.” Eddie again. He did something to Carson. She stood up. “I have to see him right now.”
“No.” This time when her father shook his head, it was an order. “It’s going to be a while before he’s allowed any visitors, and then the first one will be me. I haven’t even told his mother yet. I might have to arrest him for arson.”
Kellie opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. What could she say? That Carson hadn’t really done those things, that he’d been possessed by his dead brother’s ghost? A ghost that planned on killing more people? She’d end up in the hospital too, in a white room with padded walls.
“Okay, Dad. I think maybe I should go lie down for a while.”
“Wait.” He put his hand out. “Not so fast. What happened here?” He indicated the burnt lawn.
“Um, Carson and I…we were out here…just reading magazines and talking. Enjoying the night. We lit some candles so we could see. I must have fallen asleep.”
Her father gave her a look so disapproving it felt like it held physical weight. She knew her resolve would melt under the force of his gaze, so she hurried away before he could say anything else.
The fact that he let her go without saying anything told her how badly he was hurting from her lying to him.
I hate doing it as much as he hates me doing it. But what choice was there? Hopefully he’d go back to work soon and she could sneak over to the hospital and help Carson escape so they could destroy Eddie Ryder forever.
After that, her father could punish her as much as he wanted.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Emma Sanchez paused on the way back to the ambulance to adjust the gun strapped to her ankle. She knew most EMTs didn’t carry firearms, but ever since the night a coked-up Butch Franks had tried to rape her behind the Dairy King she’d always made sure to keep her gun with her. Roscoe Jackson, her usual shift partner most nights, knew about it, and the reason she carried it. He didn’t approve, but then he was big enough that he didn’t need a weapon if he encountered trouble.
And Emma had a feeling there was going to be trouble.
If not tonight, then soon.
They’d just dropped off Carson Ryder, who she’d always thought seemed like a nice enough kid. In the summers he sometimes cut her lawn for extra cash. She’d never have suspected him to be a druggie or an arsonist, but according to Chief Jones it seemed like he might be both. The kid certainly appeared to be wacked on something. It was just another strange occurrence in a long list of weird things happening in Hell Creek lately, things like windows breaking on their own, thunder and lightning in clear skies, and people killing each other – and themselves – for no logical reason.
It all made Emma very thankful for her gun.
“Hey.” Roscoe stood by the back of the ambulance, smoking a cigarette. “Everything come out okay?”
Emma rolled her eyes. He said the same thing every time she went to the restroom, even if all she needed to do was splash some water on her face or wash her hands.
If he ever gets married, he’ll drive his husband crazy.
Of course, the odds of Roscoe getting married – unless he moved out of town – were pretty slim. Hell Creek had its good points, but being tolerant of gays wasn’t one of them. In that respect, the town was still mired in the 1950s.
“Sure did.” She smacked his arm as she went past. “Damn near blew the toilet off the wall.”
Roscoe made a sound that was half cough and half laughter, and she smiled, happy to have shocked him with her comeback. That would teach him. Maybe next time he’d think of something new to say.
She was about to open the passenger door when a strong hand grabbed her arm and swung her around so hard she slammed into the side of the ambulance.
* * *
Still hyped to the max after the rush of sending another asshole to an early grave, Eddie returned to the hospital to check on Carson and found Roscoe and his partner catching a smoke outside the Emergency Room.
Fuck, yeah. Perfect timing.
Let’s see how he likes the taste of pussy for a change.
He slid into the hulking EMT and came up behind the Spanish-looking girl who was getting ready to open her door. She wasn’t much to look at – fat in the ass and about ten years too old for Eddie’s taste – but then all that mattered was having Roscoe wake up dick-deep in something other than a man’s Hershey-hole.
Eddie slammed her against the side of the ambulance and smashed his lips against hers, cutting off her shout before it left her throat. Holding her in place with the weight of his body, he tore at her uniform with his hands, ripping the shirt and bra away so violently they left red welts on her skin.
The EMT screamed into Eddie’s mouth and he punched her in the chest, knocking a gush of air from her lungs. She tried to bring her knee up into his balls but he had himself wedged too tightly against her for it to do any damage. Her fists beat against his arms, and then they dropped to her sides, allowing him unimpeded access to her half-naked body. He bent down, sucking one fat brown nipple into his mouth.
Something hard poked him in the ribs. He slid one hand down to push away the annoying object, felt cold steel against his palm.
Fire and pain exploded in his stomach.
* * *
Emma watched Roscoe stumble back, his expression a combination of surprise and anger. A dark stain was already spreading across the front of his blue shirt. He raised his hands to her, and she felt a terrible guilt at having pulled the trigger.
Oh my God, what have I done? What—
Roscoe’s mouth opened and his hands clenched into fists.
“You fucking bitch! I’ll kill you for that.”
Even bleeding and in obvious pain, Roscoe Jackson was an imposing figure as he stepped toward her, a giant mountain of a man who looked fully capable of carrying out his promise and then having a beer or two before his wound got the better of him.
Her finger moved on the trigger before she even thought consciously about doing it. She fired another shot into his belly. When he still refused to go down, she put one into his chest.
Only then did Roscoe fall, a slow collapse much like a tree toppling from a chainsaw’s attack.
No longer afraid, but still cautious enough to keep the gun trained on him, Emma knelt by her dying partner as he tried to speak through the bloody foam bubbling over his lips.
“You killed the wrong guy, bitch.”
His eyes closed and his last breath gurgled out, leaving Emma with nothing but unanswered questions and a murder weapon in her hand as people came rushing out of the emergency room.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kellie hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but at some point during the night she’d passed from faking it right into the real thing without realizing it.
The sound of sirens brought her awake.
Something big is happening.
Even in a small town like Hell Creek, when you grew up as a cop’s daughter you learned early on not only how to tell the difference between police, ambulance, and fire sirens, but how to differentiate between ordinary occurrences and major events. A single siren or two meant an accident or a brush fire. A cacophony of different wails and howls meant something unusual was going on – a multi-car pileup on the highway, a building on fire on Main Street.
What sent Kellie running to her window was not only the fact that she heard four separate emergency tones – which indicated fire trucks from Homestead were providing assistance – but that the majo
rity of the sirens seemed to emanate from the center of town. The reddish-orange glow coloring the sky confirmed her fears.
Hell Creek’s business district was on fire.
She didn’t even bother to check if her father was still home. There was no way he’d be anywhere other than on the scene. Instead, she grabbed her clothes off the floor and got dressed.
This will be the best chance I have to get Carson free.
It never crossed her mind that she might be heading right for Eddie’s target.
* * *
Kellie hid her bike behind a dumpster at the back of the hospital. Her original plan had been to sneak in through the emergency entrance, thinking the ER would be so busy she could get in without being noticed. Her route into town had taken her within two blocks of the fire, close enough to feel the heat and taste the black poison of burning plastic and rubber. Despite the efforts of six fire trucks, flames still turned the night sky bright as day and towered well above the rooftops of Main Street’s buildings. From what she’d seen, at least three buildings were already lost causes and several others close to joining them.
She came around the corner of the hospital and realized she needed to rethink her plan. Ambulances and police cars jammed the bay. Hospital staff and emergency workers ran back and forth, shouting at each other as they wheeled or carried victims into the hospital.
Oh, God. There were people in those buildings. Damn you, Eddie Ryder!
More than ever, she knew they had to stop Eddie as soon as possible. Which meant getting Carson free. She detoured through the parking lot and headed for the main entrance, hoping that in all the confusion she could slip past the guards.
The entire lobby was empty, including the front desk.
Things must be worse than I thought.
Kellie leaned over the desk to grab the registration book, grateful that the hospital hadn’t switched over to a computerized visitor check-in system. She looked up Carson’s name and found his room was only two floors up. She took the stairs rather than the elevator and ended up entering the hallway only four doors down from Carson’s room.