Will the Sun Ever Come Out Again?

by Nate Southard

  “Maybe. Still amazing, though.”

  “Wasn’t little more than twelve hours ago you were pissin’ yourself over what might be in the big green bitch. Then you kill something out of it, and you’re both hunky and dory. Can’t say I get that, Mr. Mills.”

  “Maybe there’s nothing there for you to get, Charlie.”

  “Guess that’s possible. It’s rarely the case, though.”

  “You so sure?”

  “Always am. It’s how I keep my ticker clicking.”

  “That just makes you cocky.”

  “That makes me alive.”

  “Does it?” Jimmy turned to give him a look.

  He flashed a smile in response. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Mills shrugged. “Until the water goes away, I guess.”

  “Well, we’ll all be sad when that happens.”

  “Will we, now?”

  He dropped his eyes to the tabletop for a moment, then met Jimmy’s gaze and grinned.

  “Fuck no, shit splat. I can’t stand ya.”

  Mills turned away from the window, his hands clenching into fists for an instant before relaxing again. He managed to push the anger away from his face, but couldn’t quite keep it out of his eyes. It churned there like black bile. It made the smile on his lips ring hollow, like the promise of a pretty woman or a young politician.

  “Right,” Jimmy said. “Screw yourself, Charlie Crawdad. I’m gonna grab some shut-eye. You should do the same.”

  Charlie shrugged and crawled out of the booth. He held his hands up in surrender as he approached Mills.

  “Look, Jimmy. I’m sorry, okay? Seriously. You handled yourself real well last night, and you saved my goddamn skin. I’m not used to anybody pulling my bacon out of the fire but me, and I guess I just let it crank up my asshole-dial. So I’m sorry. And thank you.” He held out a hand.

  Jimmy looked deep into his eyes, and Charlie could tell he was searching for a lie. A moment later he took the hand and shook it.

  “Anytime, Charlie.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Jimmy let go and walked past Charlie, heading for the back.

  “Hey, Mills!”

  “Yeah?” He turned to see what Charlie wanted.

  Charlie threw the right with everything he hand, and Jimmy hit the deck like his switch had been flipped.

  He stared at the soaked bed for a long time. Every last trace of Tammie was gone. The smell of mud and the squish of water in the carpet served as her corpse. Her belongings had become her grave marker.

  He had called her parents. They were on their way back from Indy. He’d have to explain. If the conversation didn’t kill him, Tammie’s parents might.

  Good. He probably deserved it.

  He curled into a tight ball and sank deeper into her waterlogged bed.

  Charlie was glad to see Jimmy remain out unconscious for so long. It gave him time to go upstairs and prepare. He bound the cook’s wrists and ankles with duct tape before anything else. Last thing he needed was the guy coming to and raising a stink. One day earlier, he might not mind, but now he’d seen Mills lob a cleaver like a Cy Young winner, and he didn’t want his head to wind up a strike zone.

  Once he finished in the attic, was sure everything was just as he needed it, he checked in on Jimmy. The man was still out, even snoring a little. He almost laughed, but instead grabbed him under the arms and dragged him upstairs. He used thick loops of the silver tape to bind Jimmy’s knees, then used a quick holding spell just to be sure he didn’t squirm away. Once done, he took a satisfied breath. Mills wasn’t going anywhere.

  He tore the man’s shirt off, and still Jimmy didn’t snap out of it. Only when he took the knife and started carving the first symbol into Mills’s chest did the man jolt awake with a scream.

  “Whoa there, buddy,” he said.

  Jimmy let loose with another wail, his pain bouncing off the high ceiling. The spell kept him rooted to the floor, not that Charlie doubted it would.

  “What the fuck are you doing to me?” Terror and pain shifted the pitch of Jimmy’s voice an octave higher than normal.

  “It’s nothing personal. I’m using you. That’s all.” He dug the blade into flesh again, carving a smooth line along the sternum. Jimmy let out another scream before speaking.

  “You bastard!”

  “Never claimed to be anything different. Now try to shut up. I’m working.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Heard that one before. Try something new.”

  He finished the line and started another. Blood flowed freely down Mills’s chest, tracing lines between his ribs and beginning to pool on the wooden floor. He wondered how messy it would be before he finished, decided he didn’t really give a rat’s ass.

  Jimmy’s scream became a roar. “I’m going to kill you for this, goddammit!”

  “Heard that one, too. Hell, heard it just last week. It would be awful nice if you at least tried to make this entertaining. We’re gonna be here a long time, and the last thing I want to do is fall asleep ‘cause you’re boring me to death.”

  The man’s screams filled the dusty space. They echoed and circled and cracked. Charlie wondered if anybody was left in town to hear them, but he shrugged off the thought. It didn’t matter. If anybody heard, they’d ignore it, same as always. Besides, he had work to do and only a few more hours to do it. The sun was past its zenith and heading downward. He had to be ready by nightfall. No point in wasting time with bullshit concerns.

  Another line, this one crossing the other two. Spittle sprayed from between Mills’s clenched teeth.

  “Why you doing this, Charlie? Why the fuck you doing this to me?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I figured you’d ask that, Jimmy. Didn’t figure it would be so soon. Got miles to go before sunset, y’know?”

  “Tell me!”

  Figured. If Jimmy was anything, he was tenacious in his desire to have every single fucking thing explained to him. Fucking baby.

  “Fine. You want answers, I’ll fork ‘em over. Almost twenty years ago, I lost somebody precious, somebody I loved.”

  Mills squeezed his eyes shut, pain burning across his features. “Tammie Bowers?”

  “Got it in one. Something in the river attacked her, something I couldn’t see. I got to her, but there was nothing I could do but watch her go. That’s what I did, too. I watched until there wasn’t a damn thing left. You shouldn’t have to do that, nobody should. I tell ya, I’ve seen some awful shit, but that’s the one that’s always gonna stick with me.

  “See, I still think about her, Jimmy. I think about her every day. And I think about that thing that attacked her. It wasn’t anything I’d ever heard of before or encountered since. I learned, though. I swear, I learned so much about that fucking thing, that one of a kind son of a bitch.”

  A new line, this one curving, hooking. It completed the first symbol. He started on the next.

  “It took me a long time to be ready, to learn everything I needed to know. Well Jimmy, I’m ready now. I’ve got everything I need to destroy this fucking thing, and I intend to do just that, no doubt about it. Thing is, I need you to defeat it.”

  Jimmy stared up at him with horrified eyes. Realization blossomed there, catching like a brush fire.

  “You son of a bitch! You’re using me as bait?”

  Charlie shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”

  “Why me?”

  He chuckled. He hated to do it, but the dumb bastard’s need to know amused him. “Because you wanted me here, you stupid prick! You invited me to come ride the storm out with you. How easy you want to make it for me? I need a flood; I need bait. Oh look! Here’s a flood coming and a dumb piece of shit wants me to stay in his goddamn diner with him. Jesus, I couldn’t make this shit up!”

  Jimmy almost looked hurt. “That’s it? That’s your fucking reason? I ain’t ever done shit to you, Charlie! And now you’re doing this to me like it’s some way of saying ‘Than
k you!’”

  Charlie stopped carving, focused entirely on the man stretched out before him. “No, Jimmy. Think good and hard. Would I have done this to just anybody? No. It’s never that easy. You don’t want to hear the rest.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No you don’t, Jimmy! I’m offering you a kindness, here. Just shut up and take it!”

  “Fucking tell me!”

  He shook his head. “Fine. I’m doing this because you’re worthless.”

  Mills’s eyes bugged wide, his jaw dropping open. Charlie saw shock, disbelief, and hurt all in the same expression.

  “I mean it, Jimmy. You know what’s going to happen in Sulfer. You’ve always known. We all do. This place is important. The folks who live here are important. One of these days we’ll have to stand for the rest of the goddamn world, and we’ll be the ones to hold back the fuckin’ darkness. We’re warriors, shit-splat. That’s all we were ever meant to be. We use magic because one day we have to try our damndest to save the world with it.

  “And what do you use it for? You keep your grill lit during a flood. You make your burgers taste slightly better than dogshit. You don’t do a single thing worthwhile with it. You think it’s a fucking parlor trick. You insult it.

  “You don’t deserve the magic in your veins, you little fuck. And ain’t a soul in town that’s gonna miss you once you’re gone. That’s why I’m using you.”

  “Charlie—”

  “Shut up.” A gesture locked the muscles in Mills’s jaw, silencing him.

  Charlie went back to work, carving deeper and deeper. Outside, the sun made its way toward the horizon.

  “Tell me how much you love me, Charlie.”

  “More than a little. Almost as much as a fifty-dollar lapdance.”

  Night cloaked the attic in darkness so thick and hot it felt like desire. Charlie waited at the back of the room, leaning against a wall thick with dust and cobwebs. He didn’t mind the mess. He had other things on his mind, gears turning slow and sure, concentrating one ticking instant at a time. Spells moved through his thoughts, strategies sticking and coming unglued. Despite all his research, he didn’t know everything about the thing he was hunting.

  He lit a cigarette and breathed deep. The cherry flared, illuminating the shadows closest to him. Nothing there, not that he expected anything. This far in, he sensed every living creature. Their energy called out to him, telling him everything he needed t.o know He blocked almost all the creatures—all the people—out, zeroing in one thing, one awful, terrible thing.

  That thing was coming. It moved through the murky waters that filled Sulfer’s streets with a hungry menace. It didn’t quite swim, didn’t quite scuttle. Its movements were a malevolent lurching that made as little sense as its very existence.

  It entered Second Street, following something that called to it, something that was meat but also energy. Some long-dormant instinct warned against it, but hunger demanded inspection.

  Charlie took another deep pull off his smoke. He looked to the open windows, listened to the gentle movements of the water beyond. Jimmy Mills lay unconscious ten feet in front of the glass. The blood loss had finally taken him maybe an hour earlier. His chest still rose and fell, but it was shallow, weak. He wouldn’t last until morning, even if he didn’t have a different fate in store. Poor bastard.

  Crawford began to take another hit, but the splashing in the street stopped him. He felt a sudden fluttering in his stomach, and he knew the time had come. He removed the cigarette from his lips and held it at his side. His heart pounded behind his ribs, making his entire body vibrate. His hands shook with excitement and vengeance. He wanted to roar, but he didn’t dare. He took a last, deep breath and held it.

  Showtime.

  It crossed the threshold a predator, confident but cautious. Charlie watched as the first hand reached through the window and grasped the floor. Its flesh was the color of spoiled milk, sagging just the slightest bit over powerful muscles. The talons on the end of its four webbed fingers were long as knifes, each hooked and catching the moonlight. The arm that followed was thick, strong. Another hand appeared, latching onto the wooden floor and pulling, the timber cracking and creaking under its strong grip. The creature pulled itself through, breaking the window frame as it forced its way into the attic.

  The demon stood on all fours, its larger joints arching high above its body. It stood nearly eight feet tall. Silver light played off its shining, sickly hide. Muscles rippled under skin that was tight here, sagging there. Its head, a sleek, eyeless orb with a row of overlapping fangs, swiveled back and forth as if sizing up its new surroundings. Its jaw dropped open, and the demon screeched in a hollow way, wind through ruins.

  Charlie fought the urge to want a weapon, fought the demanding need to charge and rip into the thing with his bare hands. If he did that now it would only mean a painful death. He had to do this, had to see it through to the goddamn end, and that meant he had to be patient.

  He cataloged the things he knew about the creature: it was a water demon, a creature of hell that survived in the polluted waters of rivers, lakes, and oceans; its claws could infect you with the wasting disease that had killed Tammie; the disease had no cure; few had survived encounters with the beasts.

  But few were Charlie Crawford, and few lived in a place like Sulfer, Indiana.

  He watched as the monstrosity lumbered across the creaking boards. It found Jimmy and sniffed at his unmoving body. All but one of the sigils he’d carved into the man’s chest glowed red in the demon’s presence. The beacon had worked. Now he just had to hope the last carving—the one that now burned a cool blue—would perform its duties.

  The demon opened its maw. Charlie felt a single stab of guilt before deciding Jimmy was lucky to be unconscious. In the next instant, the creature bit into Mills’ bleeding chest, tearing flesh and cracking ribs. The cook’s eyes snapped open, and there was an instant of agony and terror in them before they dimmed and closed once more.

  Chewing sounds filled the night, wet smacking and dry crunching. The demon rumbled deep in its throat, a hungry sound, pleased.

  Charlie’s breath burned in his lungs, but he didn’t dare release it. He had one chance to surprise the thing. He kept his eyes on Mills, saw the flesh at the edges of his wound liquefy and fall away. The wound expanded, its edge closing in on the blue sigil.

  C’mon! he thought, willing the beast to take another bite. The mark would work either way, but—

  His stomach flopped as he heard the demon swallow. It darted forward with surprising speed and took another bite.

  And its teeth broke the sigil.

  The sudden sound of electricity exploding through the creature’s body pounded against Charlie’s ears. The smell of ozone plunged down his nostrils despite his held breath. The beast jittered in place, sparks arcing off its body, dark smoke wafting into the still air. Flashes of light revealed the monster’s horrible skeleton like x-rays.

  The spell raced through Charlie’s mind as he pushed away from the wall and charged across the floor. The demon slumped toward the floor before looking up, hearing the booted footfalls. Charlie was already in range, however, already raising the burning cigarette in front of his lips. He blew with everything he had, and his breath burst into flame as it crossed the glowing cherry.

  The fireball struck the creature like a speeding eighteen-wheeler. Charlie felt the heat against his skin in the instant before the beast’s scream ripped through his eardrums like razors. It reared up on its hind legs as the flames coursed over its flesh. A wet, fouling smell that reminded him of a garbage fire filled the air.

  He smiled. “You remember me? Huh? You remember me, you horrible fuck?” He sucked in a breath, preparing to hit the demon with another burst of flame.

  The monster’s arm moved faster than Charlie could have imagined. It swung across the space to strike him with a backhand that felt like a wrecking ball. The floor disappeared as he sailed toward the back of
the room. The mad thought This is gonna hurt! darted through his brain and then the pain arrived as he slammed into the brick wall.

  The world threatened to go black on him. He shook his head, fighting the shadows that swirled at the edges of his vision. He heard thunder in the distance, coming closer. He realized it was the beast charging across the floor, coming for him. He dove to the side, moving blind. There was a crash as the demon collided with the rear wall.

  Charlie searched for a spell. His brain felt scrambled, useless. Thoughts and ideas bounced around at lighting speed, beads of water on a hot skillet. He couldn’t grab hold of any of them. The world around him slowed, and he stumbled through it punch drunk, wondering why his brain was a grease fire.

  He heard a commotion behind him and turned to see what the hell was making such a racket. The demon was on its feet again, watching him with that eyeless face. Smoke and the remnants of flame rolled off its powerful body as it stretched, looking more like it had just crawled out of bed than slammed into a goddamn wall.

  Charlie shook the last of the cobwebs free and backed up a step. His eyes never left the monster in front of him. What else could he use on this thing? How much more damage could it take and keep coming? Neither question turned up an answer. He blamed his rattled mind.

  The demon stalked him, and he took another step backward. It was pushing him toward the window, toward the river. He knew it, and he didn’t like it one bit. He wasn’t going to beat this thing if it returned to the Ohio. He’d lose it, and he might not be able to lure it again. He’d fail.

  He had to keep its attention.

  “Does it hurt?” he said. “Looks like it hurts real fucking bad, you ugly bastard!” He took another step, and the floor nearly gave way beneath him. He glanced down and saw the splintered wood that remained from the demon’s charge. He spoke a few words in a forgotten language, and the wood began to break apart even more, to crack like twigs beneath his weight.

  He hit the demon with another spell, one he hadn’t used since that night in the river nearly twenty years earlier. The building shuddered once when the shockwave struck, and the monster flew toward the back wall, hitting hard enough to bring bricks down on top of it. The windows shattered, raining glass into the river. A terrible creaking filled the attic, followed by a roar as the rearmost section of the roof caved in, collapsing on top of the demon.