“Get up!” Hands grabbed Cory’s arm and he cried out, afraid another zombie had found him. But it was only Todd.
“We have to get out of here. C’mon!”
He struggled to his feet and let Todd lead him to the others. John pointed behind them.
“Todd! The Holy water!”
Cory turned around. Several zombies lay on the floor, fresh additions to the corpses already decomposing there. From each one a twisting python of gray smoke was emerging and turning into a nightmare - stubby limbs, hellish red eyes, gaping mouths.
“What the fuck is going on?” Travers cried.
“Just keep shooting,” Marisol told him, pumping her water gun. She and Todd started spraying Holy water at the advancing creatures, each hit resulting in an explosion of white light and one less apparition.
“I’m almost out of ammo,” Travers said. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
“Back through the tunnel.” Cory took Marisol by the arm and guided her backwards so she could keep a watch for more Grays. The others followed, keeping their weapons ready, but the zombies, perhaps sensing they’d lost their advantage, remained in the chamber, their faces twisted with hate.
“Watch for an ambush,” Todd said.
Cory kept his eyes open, especially when they rounded the corner in the tunnel, but nothing lay in wait for them. When they reached the spot where the cave-in had once occurred, he took Marisol’s hand and practically pulled her through the tunnel, suddenly desperate to get out. At that moment, he didn’t care if an army of zombies waited for them. He needed to get outside now!
In his haste to escape he almost ran into the wall at the end of the tunnel.
“Grab my shoulders,” he told Marisol. Bending, he gripped her hips and then boosted her upwards. As soon as she was through the opening, he jumped up, grabbed the edge of the hole, and pulled himself through. By the time he’d turned around and reached down again, Todd stood underneath, ready to be pulled up.
Two minutes later, they all stood outside the crypt, sucking in untainted air in an attempt to rid their lungs of the horrendous stench they’d been breathing.
Once he could speak, Cory turned to the others.
“Is everyone okay?”
Todd and Travers managed to gasp affirmative answers. Marisol merely nodded. Cory glanced at John.
Just in time to see him collapse to the ground, a bloody stain covering his shirt.
Chapter 3
“He lost some blood and took eighteen stitches in his chest but he’ll be fine.”
Todd felt something in his chest relax at the doctor’s words. They’d rushed John to the hospital in the Chief’s car and Travers had shocked them by using his badge to get John bumped to the top of the list in the ER. He’d shocked them a second time by leaving the hospital without demanding any explanations about what had happened beneath the cemetery.
“Can we see him?” Todd asked.
The ER doctor shook his head. “We gave him a sedative. He’ll probably sleep the entire night. Want to tell me what happened?”
Todd opened his mouth but stopped, unsure of what to say.
Cory came to his rescue. “Nothing criminal on our part, if that’s what you’re worried about. C’mon guys, we’ll come back in the morning.”
Todd followed Cory and Marisol out of the ER, conscious of the doctor’s gaze on them. He knew what the man must be thinking. Three filthy, bruised people and an equally dirty cop bringing in a bleeding, unconscious man at three in the morning. It practically screamed trouble. He assumed the doctor would be on the phone to Travers as soon as they were out the door.
And what will Travers say? Will he vouch for us? Arrest us?
“What now?” Marisol asked as they stopped outside the main doors. She and Cory looked a lot like zombies themselves, with dark rings under their eyes, mussed hair and slumped shoulders. Todd imagined he looked just as bad.
“Back to my house. We can—” he cut himself off in mid-sentence as he realized they had no car.
Cory caught on at the same time and pulled out his cell. “We’ll call a cab. My treat. It’s at least four miles to your house and I’m not walking another step.”
“I second that,” Marisol said, taking a seat on a nearby bench. Her movements were slow and careful, like an arthritic old woman’s. “I plan on soaking in the tub and then sleeping for a day. Maybe two.”
When the cab arrived, Todd thought for a moment the man might not let them in. But aside from a startled expression, he ushered them into the back seat as if nothing was wrong.
Maybe it’s because we’re at the hospital. Bruised and beaten is an acceptable look here, even at this hour of the morning.
None of them spoke for the ten minutes it took to get to Todd’s house. When the cab stopped, they just stared at each other. Todd figured Marisol and Cory felt the same mix of despair and exhaustion as he. Even saying goodnight took more energy than he felt he could spare.
“Do you want to come in for a night cap?” Todd asked, while silently praying they said no. All he wanted was a shower and his pillow.
“No thanks,” Cory said, so quickly that Todd knew they were desperate for sleep as well.
“Goodnight Todd. We’ll call you when we get up in the morning.” Marisol lifted her hand in a weak wave.
“Or the afternoon.” Cory’s joke drew weak smiles all around.
“Goodnight then.” Todd went up the walk and fumbled his keys from his front pocket. Even the muscles in his fingers ached and it took him two tries to get the key into the lock. He heard the cab leave but he didn’t look back.
Inside the kitchen, he dropped his keys on the table and opened the ‘fridge, desperate for a cola or juice, something to wash the lingering taste of dirt and death out of his mouth. The soda can was almost to his lips when he paused.
Something wasn’t right.
Something about the table.
Even as he turned his head, a sick feeling erupted in his gut, a sense of terrible foreboding.
Next to his keys sat the note he’d left for Abigail.
Todd stared at the piece of paper, his mind like a car stuck in the mud. Wheels spinning but going nowhere.
It’s no big deal. She read it and left it there.
Abigail never leaves a mess.
She didn’t come here today.
She had to have. It wasn’t her day off.
Maybe it was.
He had to think hard to remember what day it was.
Then his mental wheels got traction and he ran up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, his exhaustion wiped away by terror-born adrenaline.
“Mother!”
She was on her bed, head resting on her pillows, eyes closed. For one brief second, everything was all right, she was simply sleeping, he’d been a fool.
Then he saw her uneaten breakfast still on the nightstand.
And noticed her arm hanging over the edge of the bed.
This time, his scream was much louder.
* * *
The feeling of déjà vu was so strong that Cory actually stumbled as he entered the hospital. It only grew worse when he approached the nurses’ station and the woman at the desk pointed down the hall. “Curtain five,” she said, before Cory even had a chance give Todd’s name.
With a start, he realized it was the same nurse who’d been on duty when they’d left less than two hours ago.
“Cory c’mon.” Marisol tugged at his arm. Like him, she was dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, her hair still damp from the shower they’d just finished when Todd’s call came. He nodded and followed her to the circular examination area, which was sectioned off into curtained cubicles, each with a number above it. As they approached number five, the curtain parted and Todd stepped out. Cory caught a glimpse of three people in green scrubs standing around a bed and then a gloved hand closed the curtain.
“How is she?” Marisol asked, reaching out to Todd.
“I
n a coma thanks to me.” Todd practically slapped her hand away and pushed past them, heading towards the waiting area.
Marisol’s eyes went wide and she made to follow but Cory stopped her.
“Give him a minute.”
“But—”
“I know you meant well,” he interrupted. “but he’s not thinking clearly right now. He needs to cool off. Let’s see if the doctor will talk to us.”
He approached the curtained area and tapped on one of the metal poles. “Excuse me? I’m a close friend of the family. Can I speak to someone for a moment?”
The curtain slid open and a nurse stepped out. Behind her, the doctor and the other nurse continued their examination of Mrs. Randolph, who was completely obscured by an oxygen mask and an assortment of tubes and wires that connected her to various machines.
“I’m only supposed to speak with family but I saw Mr. Randolph with you earlier, when you brought your other friend in.”
“How is she?” Maria asked.
“Unresponsive. The EMTs had to use the defibrillator on the way here to restart her heart.”
“What happened to her?”
The nurse shook her head. “Apparently, there was a mix-up with her medications and she didn’t receive them. We see things like this happen all too often.”
Cory felt his stomach clench. If Todd’s mother missing her meds had anything to do with their being out all day and night, it was no wonder he was blaming himself.
“Will she recover?”
“It’s too soon to say. She was already seriously ill.”
Damn it. That’s not what I wanted to hear. “Okay, thank you.” Cory turned to leave but the nurse stopped him.
“Wait. Please tell Mr. Randolph this isn’t his fault. In her condition, it was only a matter of time before her body shut down anyhow.”
Cory nodded his acceptance of her statement without agreeing. “I’ll tell him but it’s not going to matter.”
Marisol took his hand as they exited the ER. “What do we do now?”
“We help Todd through this.” Cory shrugged. “I don’t know what else we can do. John’s out of commission until at least tomorrow. Todd isn’t going to be much use. That means it’s just us and I don’t have a damned clue as to what to do next.”
“Maybe that means we should do nothing,” Marisol said. “Step back. Take a breath. Regroup, instead of just jumping into the water without looking.”
Cory was about to respond when the doors to the ambulance bay swung open and two sets of EMTs came barreling in, each duo wheeling a gurney.
“Multiple lacerations and broken bones!” one of the EMTs shouted. “BP dropping fast. He’s bleeding out!”
“So’s mine,” one of the other EMTs said. “We need lots of blood and a couple of surgeons.”
Several nurses magically appeared, as if summoned from thin air. The gurneys were wheeled into the ER, each one surrounded by four or five people all working and shouting at once.
Cory almost gagged as one of the bodies went past. A loop of greenish-tan intestine hung over the edge of the gurney, splattered in red. More blood covered the person’s clothes and limbs.
“I need hands in here,” a doctor yelled from inside the ER.
“Can’t spare any,” one of the nurses replied, heading back to the ambulance bay with two of her co-workers. “We’ve got more coming in!”
“This is all our fault,” a voice said behind Cory, making him jump. He turned and saw Todd standing a couple of feet away.
“Todd—” Marisol began, but he cut her off.
“Don’t deny it. This shit all started because of us. The goddamned Cemetery Club. I wish I’d never found that Ouija board, never showed it to you all. Then I wouldn’t have had to sacrifice my whole damn life for you people. Hell, as long as I’m at it, I wish I’d never met any of you. Then maybe none of this,” he spread his arms, indicating the craziness in the ER, “would have ever happened.”
Before anyone could respond, Todd did an about face and walked back into the ER.
Cory turned and looked at Marisol.
“Still think we should take things slow?”
* * *
The cab ride back to Marisol’s was silent, although not uncomfortably so. Marisol stared out the passenger window, her eyes half-closed. That suited Cory just fine. He was preoccupied with his own thoughts, so much so that they’d already pulled into the driveway before it registered on his exhausted brain there was a car parked in front of the house.
“Who’s that,” he asked, tapping Marisol on the leg and pointing at the late-model SUV.
She leaned across him and looked out the window. Her frown quickly changed to a confused smile.
“It’s Freddy. Freddy Alou, the Town Clerk? You met him once. I wonder what he’s doing here?”
“One way to find out.” Cory paid the driver and they got out, alert for any sudden movements. He’d kept his tone light but in truth the car made him nervous. There was too much going on - most of it dangerous - for him to think this was a harmless social call.
The SUV’s driver door opened a second later and a stocky, gray-haired Hispanic man got out, dressed for work in gray slacks and a brown sweater vest over a white shirt.
Marisol took Cory’s hand. “Freddy. Kind of early isn’t it? Is everything all right?”
Their unexpected visitor gave them a smile but shook his head in the negative. “No, chica, it’s not. I been trying to talk to you for like a week now, and I can’t wait any longer. Things have gotten too out of hand. The whole town is loco.”
As if to emphasize his words, the crack-crack-crack of distant gunfire echoed through the relative quiet of the early morning air. After a pause, the all-too-familiar howl of a police siren started up.
“Maybe you’d better come inside. We’ll put some coffee on.” Coffee was the last thing Cory wanted, considering they’d been up almost twenty-four hours straight. And he didn’t want to hear what was sure to be more bad news. Except he had a feeling it was information they needed to know.
As it turned out, he was right on both counts.
By mutual unspoken agreement, they kept the conversation to anything except the town - mostly Freddy apologizing to Marisol for showing up so early and saying how stupid Jack Smith was for suspending her - until the coffee was made and they’d sat down in Marisol’s small but comfortable living room.
“So, where do we begin?” Cory asked.
Freddy wasted no time. “I know you and your friends have been investigating the strange things happening around here. But I don’t think the four of you know how closely you’re linked to what is going on.”
“Oh, do tell,” Marisol said, her tone more sarcastic than Cory had ever heard from her. “We’ve been getting that shit from John and Todd already. Now you’re jumping in?”
Freddy frowned in confusion. “You mean, you know?”
“That it’s our fault? Yeah, we’re well aware of that fact. Who else knows?”
“I...I don’t think anyone but me. I am the last. But how did you find out?”
“Wait a minute,” Cory interrupted. “Are we talking about the same thing? The attacks that happened when we were in high school?”
Comprehension replaced confusion on Freddy’s face. “It was the four of you! ¡Dios santo! I thought so. To answer your question, yes and no. No doubt you had much involvement then. And to your credit, you were strong enough to stop them for a while. But your involvement goes back further. Much further. Before you were born, actually.”
“Wait a minute.” Marisol put her coffee down. “Before we were born? That doesn’t make sense.”
Cory patted her hand. “Let him explain.”
“Gracias. The four of you, your families, you go back a long ways in this town. Back to the beginning, when Rocky Point wasn’t much of a town at all. My family was there too. In fact, el padre de mi abuelo, my grandfather’s father, came here with your grandfather’s grandfather chica.
They owned the town’s first tattery.”
“What the hell’s a tattery?” Marisol asked. Cory had a feeling she had other questions, larger ones, but wasn’t ready to ask them yet.
“A leather maker,” Freddy said. “I have letters I can show you someday. Mr. Miles, your family was represented as well. Also business people. Of course, by now you’ve surely found out that a Boyd was one of the first mayors of Rocky Point.”
Cory nodded. “In 1847, when...” His voice trailed off.
“What?” asked Marisol.
“When he and Reverend Randolph gave the order to burn down the leper colony,” Freddy finished. “The colony that was built, mind you, on land that one Archibald Miles sold to Effram Charles for the sum of seventeen dollars and rights to the lumber.”
“That’s very weird,” Marisol said.
Weird isn’t the word for it, Cory thought, as Freddy kept talking. He listened with growing incredulity as the Town Clerk told the story of the founding families of Rocky Point. Along with their four and the Alous there had been five others, but those lines had died out along the way, lost in the usual tragedies that strike towns and families over the centuries. During the research done by the Cemetery Club members, Cory had noticed an odd rate of major incidents - fires, scandals, murders - in the historical records, but he’d attributed it to a combination of coincidence and the violent tendencies of the times.
Now he was suddenly sure there were no coincidences, not when it came to Rocky Point.
As Freddy’s tale unfolded, Cory tried to mentally highlight the key points, the way he’d highlight a court document or witness testimony when preparing for trials. The town had always had a Randolph as a preacher, with Todd’s father being the last. The Boyds had always been involved in politics and business. John’s father had managed the bank and been on the town board. And Cory’s own family had remained true to their roots, apparently, with almost everyone - right up until Cory had gone into law - being involved in real estate or finance.
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