“Here, let me,” she said.
She took the packet from him, took out a cigarette and passed it back to him. Even then she had to help him hold his hand steady to use the lighter. He sucked in the first gasp as if his life depended on it. When he looked back at Janet, confusion was written all over his features.
“They were Vietcong,” Charlie said. “I’d know those bastards anywhere. But what where they doing here? And where did they go?”
She had no real answer. She looked at the floor, then up at the too-bright lights above. She remembered Bill’s devils had similarly fallen apart…in the sunshine, in the light. An idea started to form.
“Just keep the lights on,” she said.
Charlie looked even more puzzled, but he seemed to have regained some composure, and when he raised the cigarette to his lips, his hands had stopped shaking.
“Light’s ain’t gonna keep the VC away, Doc,” he said. “At least it never worked back in the day.” But she saw that he was already wondering whether it had all been in his mind.
“They were never really here,” she said. “At least, not in the sense you think.”
“They were real enough,” he replied. “I ain’t had enough to drink to be having the DTs, Doc, if that’s what you’re thinking?”
She took the old man’s free hand and squeezed.
“If it’s the DTs, then I’m getting them too,” she replied. “No, it’s what we said earlier, Charlie. There’s something in town playing tricks on us. I don’t think it can actually hurt us.”
But don’t quote me on that one.
Charlie looked ready to argue, but thought better of it and went back to sucking down as much smoke as he could get into him. He finally dropped the butt into the nearest sink and turned on the tap, quenching it with a hiss.
He looked at the gloop on the floor, and muttered something under his breath that Janet didn’t catch—something about old man Hopman and the mineshafts that made little sense to her. He turned and looked Janet in the eye.
“You watch out for me, and I’ll watch out for you, Doc. We got a deal?”
She shook on it, and they went to work.
Charlie got three big pots of coffee going while Janet cleared up the mess on the floor. It had already started to rot and stink and took a lot of elbow grease and disinfectant before she was happy it was all gone. It was only after she washed her hands, scrubbing over and over again until her palms felt raw, that she wondered whether she should have taken samples for the CDC.
* * *
She was back in the main bar handing out coffee five minutes later when Big Bill returned. She offered him a cup, but he went straight behind the bar and poured himself three fingers of rye, knocking it back in one gulp before speaking.
“I don’t want anybody going outside. Nobody leaves. Got it?”
Janet was watching the sheriff closely. His color was high on his cheeks, and he breathed heavily, as if he’d just been running. He refused to meet anyone’s gaze, and the slightest sound had him reaching for his pistol.
He’s spooked. He’s seen something.
Nobody spoke. The sight of the big sheriff in a funk raised the tension in the room noticeably. To Janet’s surprise it was Charlie who knew what was needed.
“Hey, Big Bill,” the older man said. “If you ain’t gonna pay for that booze, I hope you’ve got enough for all of us?”
A couple of people laughed at that, and the sheriff looked ruefully at the empty glass in his hand.
“I don’t see no barman, do you?” he said. “We can settle up with Tony later.”
Janet doubted that. She’d seen the barman earlier…getting into one of the other buses; one of those lost when the convoy fell into the collapsed road. She didn’t say anything. Charlie had handled the situation deftly enough and the tension, if not gone, had been defused for the moment.
Charlie lightened the mood further by going round behind the bar.
“You heard Big Bill,” he said, loud enough for all to hear. “We can settle up later. Form an orderly queue.”
Within seconds he had several customers, although Janet was amused to see that Fred Grant wasn’t one of them. Sarah Bennett slept with her head on his shoulder, and he stroked her blonde hair, gently, lost in some faraway thought.
Janet passed out the last mug of coffee, and motioned for Bill to meet her in the kitchen. Almost as soon as the door was shut behind them he grabbed her in a bear hug, squeezing so hard she became short of breath.
“Easy, big guy,” she said in his ear. “I might be needing these ribs sometime.”
His grip eased, slowly. When she pulled her head away and looked him in the eye, he had fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.
“It’s that bad?” she whispered.
He nodded.
“The town’s not going to be recovering from this. Ain’t nobody here but those we have in the bar as far as I can tell. Newman’s store has fallen in, as has the bank. Your surgery is still there, but there’s a new hole between here and there. And my office is just gone, fallen into some black deep.”
He paused as if unsure how to continue.
“You ain’t gonna believe me, Janet. But I saw them again, down in the holes. Only they’re not holes. They’re doorways to hell. And there are devils down there.”
She returned his embrace and gave him a soft kiss on the lips.
“You’d be surprised what I’m prepared to believe tonight,” she said. She stayed in his arms as she told him what had happened with Charlie and the resulting mess of protoplasm. Some of the sheriff’s composure was coming back, slowly but surely, but he showed no signs of letting her go.
“More of that stuff we found when the…devils…burned up?”
She nodded.
“I suspect the stuff is the cause of what’s happening here. Though the how of it completely escapes me. And whether it’s the cause of, or caused by, the collapsing ground, I have no idea.”
“Let’s hope we’re given enough time to find out,” Bill said. “Ain’t no way to live, wondering if the ground is going to swallow you up and send you to hell at any second.”
They stayed there, holding each other, until a shout came from the bar beyond.
“Best get through here, Sheriff.”
13
Several things surprised Fred Grant. He had a girl sleeping on his shoulder, he was sober, and free booze was on offer.
And I don’t want any.
Despite his drinking from the evening before, the time since then had left him stone-cold sober. The events themselves were already taking on a distant, dreamlike quality. But the girl with her head on his shoulder was real. He had got her out of the truck. Maybe he hadn’t saved her life, but he felt responsible for her, in a way that excited and frightened him in equal measure. Maybe it was the blonde hair, and the memory of another girl falling into darkness, or maybe it was just a simple need for contact with another person in troubling times. Whatever it was, he was content, for the moment at least, to sit and let her sleep.
He felt her heat against his arm, like sitting too close to a radiator, but not nearly as uncomfortable. But it brought a memory of another hot body pressed against his legs, and of a glass, spinning, in a cold room, and of words, picked out on the board.
F…R…E…D…I…S…D…E…A…D
He came awake with a start as his head nodded to fall on his chest.
Ain’t no sense in sleeping if that’s what my dreams are going to be like.
He stroked the girl’s hair again, that simple act bringing him more calm than he’d felt since heaving Charlie out of the hole the morning before. He was almost content.
One person in the room wasn’t content at all. Ellen Simmons, taking advantage of the fact that Doc and the sheriff were in the kitchen, tried to take charge.
“We can’t just sit here and wait to die,” she said.
Fred had some sympathy with that statement. They were caught between a rock
and a hard place, but at least here they were warm, and had food and light, as long as they lasted. But the Simmons woman wasn’t content with that.
“We’ve been paying that sheriff for years, for what? To sit on his ass and eat donuts? And now when we need him, where is he? Canoodling with that so-called doctor, that’s what. Well I for one am not waiting any longer for him to get a backbone. I’m heading out.”
She dangled the squad car keys in her fingers.
“I’m heading for the car, and then to find a way to safety. Who’s with me?”
Much to Fred’s surprise several of the wounded stood up, three of them, three more than he had expected. They moved to join Ellen Simmons as she headed for the door.
“We can fit a couple more in, at a squeeze,” she said, hand on the door handle.
Nobody took her up on it.
“I’ll head for the county sheriff,” she said. “I know he’s got more backbone than Bill Wozniak. He’ll be here with help in no time. Just you wait and see.”
She pushed the door open, starting to head out.
“I wouldn’t do that. There ain’t nowhere to go, Ellen,” Charlie said from behind the bar. “Nowhere safe, no how.”
“And why would I listen to you, Charlie Watson? You’ve been drunk so long you don’t know up from down.”
Charlie raised a beer glass and smiled.
“Ain’t no skin off my nose, darling,” he said. “Just don’t let your wounded pride get you killed. Don’t let it get these other folks killed.”
She sniffed at him as if he were a piece of bad meat, and turned back to the open door.
“We’ll be back with help before you know it,” she said. “I promise.”
“We’ll be here,” Charlie replied.
The door closed behind the four as they left.
“Best get through here, Sheriff,” Charlie shouted.
* * *
Charlie’s shout woke the girl up with a start. She made to pull herself away, then seemed to realize where she was and kept her head on Fred’s shoulder. She maintained a strong grip on his arm.
Don’t look like she’s aiming to give me up anytime soon.
He found he wasn’t displeased at the idea, but when the sheriff came back into the bar from the kitchen, Fred stood up, ready to help if needed. The girl stood too, still holding on to his arm for dear life.
“What happened?” the Sheriff asked, looking around the bar area.
Charlie waved towards the door.
“Ellen Simmons took off,” he said. “Her and three others. Said she was headed for your car, then points west.”
For a second Fred thought that the sheriff might just shrug and let it lie, but he saw the squeeze on the arm that Doc gave him.
“You’ve got to stop her, Bill. I know she’s a pain in the ass…but she’s one of us. Part of our town. We need to save what we can.”
Fred, with Sarah attached, joined Doc and the sheriff as they headed for the door. The sheriff got there first, opened the door wide and yelled out.
“Ellen. Get your stupid butt back here.”
Doc laughed.
“Not exactly what I would have said. But at least if she’s within hearing distance, she won’t be able to stop herself from answering back.”
There was no reply. Fred stood behind the sheriff, trying to see past him. All he could see was the small patch of ground lit from the lights inside the bar. Beyond there was only dense blackness. Although they’d only left a matter of seconds before, there was no sign of the party of four.
Bill turned away.
“She’s determined. I’ll give her that.”
“Ellen!” Doc shouted, to no avail. Bill took Doc’s arm.
“I doubt she’ll make it as far as the squad car. They’ll get spooked by the dark and run back here. Any second now.”
“Here they come,” Sarah said softly.
Something moved in the dark, and Fred suddenly felt in need of a drink as it came forward into view.
It was big, red and seemed to be on fire. Half as big again as a man, and standing on two legs, a demon walked out of the dark. It stopped just at the edge of where the light fell on the parking spots outside. Muscles bunched under tight skin, and when it smiled, it showed twin rows of sharp teeth like a shark.
Big Bill tensed, and drew his pistol.
“Stop or I’ll shoot.”
The demon stopped, head tilted, as if confused by this new sound. It showed no sign of either coming forward, or retreating, just stood there. It was hard to tell in the gloom, but Fred got the distinct impression it was smiling.
“They’re learning,” Doc whispered. Fred had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t sound good.
Not good at all.
Doc turned to speak to Fred directly.
“Do you know where the external light switch is? The one for the car park floods?”
Fred nodded. He only had to move three feet to the side of the door, but Sarah moved with him, still gripping tightly to his arm. He used his free hand to flick the switch. Light blazed outside, the demon finally fully visible. It was strangely unformed, smooth and wrinkle free; a bland, featureless face save for two buttonhole eyes and the toothy smile. Even that faded as the light hit it. It melted and ran like a knob of butter on a hot skillet. It backed away almost immediately, sloughing off bubbling flesh, and lumbered off into the darkness, leaving a trail of glistening slime behind it.
Fred reached for the light switch.
“No,” Doc said. “Leave it on. It may be the only protection we have.”
She knows more than she’s letting on.
Fred was about to ask more, but Doc put a finger to her lips.
“Later,” she mouthed.
Fred saw why when he turned back to the bar. Everybody else was staring at them, quizzical looks on their faces.
They didn’t see it. Big Bill blocked their view.
Charlie obviously was another who knew more than he was letting on. The older man poured a beer and as Fred went back to his seat, he came round the bar and handed it over.
“Trust me, son, you’ll want it.”
Fred wasn’t about to argue. The rest of the survivors started throwing questions at Big Bill and Doc, leaving Fred with his beer…and Sarah. She didn’t say a word, just grabbed his arm tight, put her head on his shoulder, and went back to sleep.
Part of Fred wanted to do the same, just close his eyes and succumb to oblivion for a while and hope the dreams stayed away. But the sight of the demon refused to leave him alone and he remained resolutely awake. It felt like a year since he’d woken the previous day, before his life had been turned upside down and inside out.
* * *
By the time he’d had a smoke and finished most of the beer, many of the survivors had, like Sarah, fallen into fitful sleep. Charlie was one of the few still awake. He still sat at the bar, sipping another in an unending line of beers, but the older man seemed to be clear-eyed and remarkably sober—alert even, as if on edge. Looking at him now, Fred could see the young soldier he once had been, not the town drunk who did the jobs no one else wanted to do. More than that, Fred caught a glimpse of what might be waiting for himself in the future; a lonely man in a bar, on the watch for monsters.
Because there will always be monsters.
Like Fred, Doc and the sheriff looked determined to stay awake. While Fred sipped the last of his beer they spoke, heads close, whispering, in an exchange that became heated before the sheriff broke off and walked over to stand above Fred.
“Doc says I can trust you,” the big man said. “I ain’t so sure, but I need some help.”
That looked to be as close as the sheriff was going to get to pleading. Fred tried to stand, but Sarah kept him down in his seat until he gently moved her away. She grabbed at his hand as he rose, and clutched it, hard.
“I got somebody to look after now,” Fred said to the sheriff. “But as long as it don’t put her back into more dange
r than we’re in already, I’m your man.”
The sheriff smiled and looked like a completely different man, as if a weight had just lifted. He took Fred’s free hand and shook it.
“I guess you’ve just been deputized, son. Welcome to law enforcement.”
Fred wondered just what he’d let himself in for. The Sheriff must have seen it in his face, and laughed softly.
“Don’t worry, lad. I’m not sending anyone out into the night. I just need somebody to stand by the back door and keep watch.”
One thought came immediately.
“There ain’t no floodlights out back,” he said, dismayed to hear the tremor that crept into his voice. “What if that—thing—comes back?”
Doc was now at the sheriff’s side.
“Keep the kitchen lights on at all times,” she said. “And I’ll have a look and see if there’s a flashlight around here somewhere.”
“The sun will be up before too long,” the sheriff added. “And then maybe we can find out exactly what’s going on here—and maybe even get some sleep.”
I wouldn’t bet on it.
Charlie gave Fred a smile and a mock salute as they made their way to the kitchen. Sarah went with him, her grip on his hand never loosening.
* * *
He opened the back door slowly. There was some light beyond it, and he was happy to see a lit bulb immediately above the door on the outside. It didn’t light up much beyond a couple of yards of the backyard, but it was enough to ease his mind somewhat about having to stand in darkness.
He immediately regretted ever leaving the warm seat in the bar, but when Sarah leaned into him and put her head on his chest, the booze was quickly forgotten. He lit a cigarette and stared out into the blackness, trying not to let his imagination run wild, trying not to remember everything else that had happened in recent hours.
There was a row of trees out there somewhere—he knew that, but it was still so dark that they couldn’t be seen apart from their making a darker shadow just at the edge of his vision. Here at the rear of the kitchen he couldn’t hear any sound from the bar, and there was no noise out in the darkness. Once again he was struck by the absence of bird sound, and it had been hours since he’d heard a dog bark. A cloak of silence had fallen over the town, and all he heard was Sarah’s soft breathing and the hiss of burning ash at the end of his smoke as he inhaled.
The Hole Page 10