The Finn made a soft chuffing sound that might have passed for a laugh before saying, "Christ, Hellboy, look at you. You're drunk on your ass."
Hellboy slouched back in his seat and seemed for a moment unable to focus his eyes as he shook his head in adamant denial and said, "No. No. I just had a little something to drink with Lorraine while I was waiting for you to show."
The Finn leaned forward and ran his hands down the sides of his face.
"What kind of lies has he been telling you?" he asked Lorraine, and she caught the trace of a smile on his thin lips.
"Oh, he'd just gotten to the part where Moses McCrory was shot and killed ... when he was close to the scarecrow," Lorraine said, "and that the murders kept happening after he was dead, only they were worse."
"I see," The Finn said, "and did he tell you about the straw?"
"The straw?" Lorraine asked, looking quizzically at Hellboy.
"Right," The Finn said. "Once the killings started again, there was always straw around the victims ... straw and rope fiber. It was that, and the fact that the killings only happened on rainy nights, that I was able to piece it all together."
" You!" Hellboy said with a dry sniff of laughter. "You didn't put anything together. It was me and Red Shirt who figured out about the pond."
"Wait a minute, you two," Lorraine said. "You're confusing me. What's this about a pond?"
"Okay, I'll give credit where credit's due," Hellboy said, his voice slurring noticeably now. "It was Red Shirt who figured it out. I told you that this new round of killings only happened on rainy nights, right?"
Lorraine nodded. She was still more than a little tipsy herself, and she was having a bit of trouble following the conversation now.
"Rainy nights," Hellboy repeated, nodding to himself. "Only on rainy nights. There had been a killing two nights before, but the weather had cleared, so that afternoon, the three of us went out to the corn field where Moses had been killed. We hadn't put it all together yet, and one reason was because the scarecrow we'd seen in the police crime scene photos was still standing there. But when we got there, I noticed that the scarecrow wasn't the same one from the photos they'd showed us at the police station. So I thought we'd better investigate."
"Investigate!" The Finn said, barking with laughter. "What the hell are you talking about, investigate? You took that cannon of yours, and you blasted the thing to pieces!"
Hellboy looked at Lorraine with a sheepish shrug. "Maybe sometimes I act before I think things all the way through," he said. "But that doesn't really matter because of what we found. See, the scarecrow wasn't stuffed with straw, the way scarecrows are supposed to be. It was packed full of body parts."
"Body parts?" Lorraine said, wincing as her stomach did a sour little flip.
"Yeah," said Hellboy. "Moses was collecting body parts from his victims and storing them inside the scarecrow."
"But I thought you said he was the scarecrow, that his soul had entered it the night he was killed."
"It did. He was," Hellboy replied, shaking his head as though desperate to clear it so she'd understand him.
"But he had started making a new one. See, it hadn't snowed yet that year, but there had been a frost the night before. It was getting late when we got out to the cornfield. The corn was dead, but the farmer hadn't cut it back yet, so the stalks were more than head-high. They blocked our view, but I
"
Hellboy glanced quickly over at The Finn.
"I mean, Red Shirt noticed footprints leading down to the pond."
"Actually," The Finn said, "the footprints led up from the pond and then back down to it. Hellboy and I thought someone
Moses in the shape of the scarecrow, maybe, had walked down to the pond, for some reason, before leaving."
"But it was Red Shirt
" Hellboy said emphatically as he nailed The Finn with a hard look. "See?" he muttered. "I can give credit where credit's due. It was Red Shirt who read the tracks correctly and determined that the prints coming out of the pond were the oldest, and that the ones going back into it were the freshest."
"I
I still don't get it," Lorraine said, shaking her head.
"Okay, think of it this way," Hellboy said, slurring his words. "If you were a scarecrow, what would be your biggest fear?"
Lorraine considered the question for a moment, then said, "Probably falling apart ... unless it was that I didn't have a brain."
"Very funny, Dorothy, but
no. That's not the problem," Hellboy said impatiently. "You can always stuff more straw into yourself if you're railing apart. Think about what would be your most dangerous enemy.
What can destroy you if you're made of straw?"
"Well ... fire, of course."
"Bingo," Hellboy said, clapping his hands together. Leaning back in his seat, he folded his arms across his chest and nodded with satisfaction. "And, if you were made of straw, you wouldn't need to breathe, either.
Would you?"
Lorraine shrugged, still more than a little perplexed. The more Hellboy talked, the less sense he seemed to be making.
"No," she said softly. "I guess you wouldn't need to breathe."
"So if you didn't need to breathe, and you didn't want to burn, where's the safest place in the world to be when you weren't out killing people?"
"In the pond, I guess," Lorraine said.
"Absolutely," Hellboy said.
"And the safest time to be out and about would be on rainy nights," The Finn added in a measured, controlled voice as Hellboy nodded solemnly.
Lorraine thought Hellboy looked totally plastered and was about to pass out. His voice dragged terribly when he spoke.
"So we were down there by the pond," he said, "The Finn, Red Shirt, and me. It was getting dark, and it looked like there might be a rainstorm brewing in the west."
Lorraine shivered as she cast a wary glance at rainwater streaming down the window beside her.
"Look," said Hellboy, "I gotta take a leak." He heaved himself up and stood beside the table for a moment, weaving unsteadily, trying to keep his balance. "You tell her the rest of it."
With that, he started toward the restroom, taking short, halting steps.
"Okay," The Finn said, hunkering down and leaning forward, his arms hooked over the chair back. "You have to try to picture it. We're out there in the middle of this cornfield. It's getting on toward night. There's a steady wind rustling through the dead leaves of the corn, but the first thing I notice, the creepiest thing about the whole thing is, there's no wildlife around."
"What do you mean?" Lorraine said as a strong shiver ran like teasing fingers up her back.
"I mean nothing. No birds singing. No late-season crickets buzzing. No dogs barking. Nothing. Total silence except for the wind, blowing through the dried corn. Red Shirt tells us he's gonna follow the tracks around the pond. It wasn't very big."
"What about the farmer ... the person who owned the field?" Lorraine asked.
The Finn lowered his eyes and shook his head grimly. "He was already dead. Him and his whole family. They were the first of Moses' new victims, once he'd come back as the scarecrow. I went back to the car to get some things
some flashlights, guns, and a cigarette lighter and some road flares."
"Road flares?"
"We thought of making some torches, using the corn stalks, but they were too damp and brittle. I figured road flares would burn better, even if it started to rain."
"Hey, I was the one who suggested that road flares would work," Hellboy said, coming up to the table so suddenly even The Finn jumped when he spoke. "If you're gonna tell the story, tell it the way it really happened."
"Yeah, okay. It was your idea," The Finn said with a half-smile on his thin lips. "Are you going to let me finish the story or not?"
"No, I'll take it from here," Hellboy said as he sat back down in the booth. Before going on with the story, though, he took the second, untouched glass
, filled it with beer, and slid it over to The Finn. Then he refilled his own glass and slammed the empty pitcher onto the table.
"Glad you made some room for that," The Finn said.
Hellboy nodded. "So where were we?"
"Down by the pond," Lorraine said. "The Finn had just gone back to get guns and road flares."
"Oh, yeah," Hellboy said, and for a moment, his eyes fluttered as he leaned back in his seat. "I went down to the water, where the tracks led, and was leaning over it, trying to see to the bottom. I heard someone coming up behind me, but I figured it was The Finn, returning with the equipment, so I didn't look until it was too late."
"But it was Moses, right?" Lorraine said, anticipating the story.
Hellboy nodded. "Yup," he said, the word sounding more like a burp than a word. "And he's got this garrotte he's made with barbed wire that he wraps around my neck and starts pulling. Fortunately, I had just enough of a warning, and as I turned around, I got my right hand up between my throat and the wire."
"Your right hand," Lorraine said, glancing at the huge stone hand resting on the table, next to the cooler.
Hellboy nodded. "Yeah, lucky for me, too, cause once he started twisting that garrotte tighter, I'd have been a goner if I hadn't reacted so fast."
"The problem was," The Finn said, "with his hand up so close to his face, ol' Hellboy here lost his balance and fell headfirst into the pond."
"I didn't fall. I slipped," Hellboy said, glaring at The Finn. Lorraine saw the dull orange of his eyes intensify.
"The edge of the pond was all muddy, and I slipped and fell."
"Either way, you ended up headfirst in the water," The Finn said. "And with that big stone hand of yours weighing down, you were helpless as a baby."
"How do you know?" Hellboy said, leaning forward and pounding the table with his stone fist. The impact made the pitcher, beer glasses, and cooler all jump. "You weren't even there!"
"That's just when I returned," The Finn said softly, looking directly at Lorraine and ignoring Hellboy. "I saw him hit the water, and then he
the scarecrow, that is
saw Red Shirt coming back, and he attacked him. I
shot at Moses twice with the shotgun, but if I hit him at all, it didn't have any effect. He was charging at Red Shirt, but I knew I had to react quickly and help Hellboy before he drowned."
"I wasn't all that helpless," Hellboy said.
"What do you mean?" The Finn shouted. "You were stuck headfirst in the mud at the bottom of the pond, and you were drowning!"
Hellboy looked intently at Lorraine, his eyes flaring as he said, "I wasn't all that helpless. Honest. I'd already started to loosen the wire."
The Finn sniffed derisively. "Sure. Whatever. The way I remember it, though, I had a choice to make in a split second. I could either light a flare and help Red Shirt fight the scarecrow, or I could drop everything and keep Hellboy from drowning."
"I wasn't drowning," Hellboy said, slurring the words horribly and wavering in his seat.
"If you say so," The Finn said. "Anyway, it doesn't matter, because I reacted without thinking and dove into the water and got him up to the surface before he died." He nailed Hellboy with an angry stare. "I saved your goddamned life, and believe me, it wasn't easy. The least you could do is show a little gratitude."
"I didn't need your help," Hellboy said. "I was just about free of the wire by the time you got me."
The Finn scowled angrily. "Well, given the choice to do it over again, I'd sure as hell try to help Red Shirt instead, believe me."
Hellboy shook his head, letting his gaze go unfocused for a moment. "Look," he said, "either way, I got out, but it was already too late to help Red Shirt. Moses
the scarecrow
had another piece of barbed wire
with him because he strangled Red Shirt so hard, his head came off. I saw that happen just as I broke the surface with The Finn clinging to me so he wouldn't drown."
The Finn leaned back and shook his head with disgust. "That's not exactly how I remember it, but go on. Get to the end of the story."
"Well, like I said, it was already too late to save Red Shirt. He was dead, and Moses had taken off, running across the field toward the woods. He was moving pretty fast, and I wasn't sure I could catch him, so I took one of the flares The Finn had brought and lit it. Then I tied it to the wire Moses had tried to strangle me with and, swinging it around my head like one of them South American bolos, I chased after Moses until I was close enough to throw it."
"That was quick thinking," Lorraine said, hoping by her praise to assuage any hurt feelings Hellboy might have.
"Yeah, and I guess I got lucky, too," Hellboy said, " 'cause the bolo caught him around the neck, and after it spun around a few times, the flare landed on his back, right where he couldn't reach it."
"It was an amazing sight," The Finn added, smiling now and nodding with satisfaction.
"So Moses is running across the corn field, stumbling as flames spread across his back," Hellboy said. He leaned forward in his seat, fully enjoying the climax of his story. "There's pieces of burning straw and smoke streaming out behind him. He looked like a comet, streaking across that field. But he never made the woods."
"You mean he burned up?" Lorraine asked.
Hellboy nodded solemnly. "All the straw did, yeah, but before it was all gone, something else happened. It wasn't just fire and smoke that was coming out of him. As he was running, I we saw this thick, black cloud
shoot out of his body and up into the sky. It was his spirit
his soul, departing."
Lorraine gulped audibly and looked back and forth between Hellboy and The Finn.
"You both saw it?" she asked, her voice hushed with awe.
"Well, we saw ... something," The Finn said. "I'm not exactly sure what it was."
"It was his soul," Hellboy said emphatically. "It was getting dark, and I'll hold open the possibility that it could have been an illusion, but I'm sure I saw something
a dark, almost human-shaped thing streak out of
the scarecrow as its body was consumed with flames. And then, as soon as the scarecrow's body was gone, a huge flock of crows cawing real loud flew out of the trees, like they'd been waiting there. They swooped over
... whatever it was, and carried it away."
"My God," Lorraine whispered, covering her mouth with both hands and staring at Hellboy with wide eyes.
For a moment or two, everyone at the table was silent. Finally, Lorraine cleared her throat and said, "But there was nothing you could do ... for Red Shirt, I mean. He really was dead."
"Yes, damnit!" Hellboy said.
When he clenched his fist and pounded the table in anger, his hand grazed the cooler and knocked it over.
The impact snapped the latch, and it opened up, spilling its contents onto the table. Lorraine let out a piercing scream when she saw a large, wrinkled object that looked like a gigantic dried prune until she realized that she was looking at a face. The lips were dried and cracked, pulled back into a terrible grimace that exposed the top row of yellowed, rotting teeth. The nose had caved in, leaving a dark V-shaped divot, and the eyes were closed and sunken in, the lids looking like thin layers of moldy onionskin.
Lorraine pushed herself violently away from the table and tried to stand up, but her legs felt unstrung and nowhere near strong enough to support her. She sagged back in her chair, gasping for breath, but she was afraid to breathe the sour, sickening smell that exuded from the severed head.
"Jesus! ... Is that him ... ? Is that Red Shirt ... ?" she managed to say between gasps for breath. Her stomach clenched furiously, and a thick, sour taste flooded the back of her throat.
"Oh, no ... no," Hellboy said, scrambling awkwardly to get the severed head back into the cooler and close it.
"That's something else entirely."
"Jesus God!" Lorraine said. "It ... that didn't even look human."
"Oh, it was,
" Hellboy said as he placed the closed travel cooler on the seat beside him and patted it gently.
"About two thousand years ago, anyway."
"Well, then," Lorraine said, struggling to regain her composure now that the terrible object was out of sight.
"It's getting way late. I ... my sister must be wondering where I am. I'd best be getting along."
She got up shakily from the table. Her first and strongest impulse was to turn and run out of there, but she stood there for a moment, making sure her legs weren't going to give out on her when she started walking.
"Hey, wait a minute," Hellboy said. "Where you going?"
He was looking at her, sort of, but his gaze was shifting and unfocused.
"Now that The Finn's here, and you know the whole story, aren't you going to toast to Red Shirt's memory with us?" he asked.
Lorraine licked her lips, all too aware of the sour churning deep down in her stomach. She didn't know if she wanted to run away or pass out or what, but now that the head was, mercifully, out of sight, she didn't feel quite so bad.
Finally, she shrugged and said, "Ahh ... oh, sure. What the hell?" and slid back into her seat.
For the first time that evening, Hellboy smiled as he raised the empty pitcher above his head to signal Kyle that they were ready for another round. Outside, the cold, autumn rain lashed against the window as the late October storm blew toward the distant Maine coast.
Where Their Fire Is Not Quenched
Chet Williamson
Ashes lay like a comforter of gray down over the hard ground. Through their soft surface timbers rose, charred black, standing like trees swept by destroying fire. Hellboy watched as one of the standing timbers swayed, held, swayed again, and with a cracking sound no louder than that of a twig being trod upon, broke near its base and fell, softly, gently, into the thick ashes, which sent up a gray cloud, incense to welcome the new offering.
The beams of the rising sun split the clouds on the eastern horizon into wispy tendrils, and tinted golden the flakes of ash that hung and sparkled in the cool morning air. Hellboy walked slowly around the ruins of piety, recognizing shapes that pushed randomly out of the ashy coverlet: the broken spines of long pews, a blackened, square hulk that might have been an organ, and less identifiable shapes, all reduced to carbon.
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