A Haunting of Horrors, Volume 2: A Twenty-Book eBook Bundle of Horror and the Occult

by Brian Hodge

  McAllister disappeared into a back room for a moment, then returned with a couple of cans of Coors, which he handed to his guests. “You’re both whiter than ghosts. Steady yourselves for a little. And then let’s hear about that clue you might have.”

  Copeland took a long, gratifying swallow of beer. “First, tell me what’s happened here. What have you seen?”

  McAllister shook his head as though he doubted his own senses. “I don’t know quite how to put it. Carolyn and I both saw them. Lights in the sky…things…spreading outward, from somewhere up north, it looked like. And sounds. Chattering, squalling sounds, coming out of the woods. Like nothing I’ve ever heard before. We tried to call the sheriff, and that’s when we found the phone was dead. Like everything else. So we’ve been watching the road for the last hour. Hardly anyone out besides yourselves. And not one car has come from the south, heading toward town. That’s beyond unusual.”

  Copeland and Debra glanced at each other. “If my guess is correct,” he said, “a few miles farther south, the world pretty much ends. At least the world as we know it.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He held up a hand. “I’m told you’ve had run-ins with certain members of the Barrow family.”

  “Me and half the town. What of it?”

  “Well…the Barrows are behind what’s happening. At least in part.”

  McAllister grimaced. “They would be, wouldn’t they? But what is it?”

  “A bad dream,” Debra said softly. “A bad dream come to life.”

  “Literally.”

  McAllister and his wife exchanged shaken glances, and then he took a deep breath. “I guess I’m gonna need a beer too. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t know if I believe it. I wouldn’t believe it, except for what I’ve seen. You, I don’t know about. But coming from Debra…”

  McAllister and Carolyn, both looking pale and haggard, sat across from them at the small kitchen table. Carolyn had set out a bowl of tortilla chips, but despite an achingly empty stomach, Copeland couldn’t bring himself to eat.

  “We’ve been right in the thick of it, and I’m still not sure I believe it.”

  “Somehow my father was involved,” Debra said softly. “He said he had an idea how to stop them, but he never got the chance to explain.”

  “On top of it all, Levi is bound and determined to get to Debra. Amos may be the Barrow family’s brains, but Levi is the muscle.”

  “Yeah. And don’t sell his brother short,” McAllister said. “He’s one cruel son of bitch. Very nasty with a knife. He tends to wrap up what Levi starts.”

  “The lot of them ought to have been thrown in jail years ago,” Carolyn snapped. “But Sheriff Grayson is hardly any better. He’ll come down like a ton of bricks on anyone who crosses him, but the Barrows…he looks the other way while they get away with murder.”

  “Pretty much literally,” McAllister added.

  “To think Dad involved himself with them out of compassion—because Samuel was killed,” Debra said. “Until today I never knew anything about what happened in Vietnam. But I know my dad tried to do right by those people. He couldn’t have realized back then he was doing exactly the wrong thing.”

  “Speaking of the sheriff,” Copeland said, “he’s been noticeably absent today. You know, those things were at his office….”

  Carolyn wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head in disgust. “From the way you describe them, I couldn’t wish them on anyone. Even Sheriff Grayson.”

  “They’re awful,” Debra said, gazing vacantly into the distance. “Awful.”

  McAllister gave Copeland a long, thoughtful look. “You’ve seen them. Up close. For real?”

  “For real.”

  “Those lights in the sky. They the same things?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what they are. Except that they come from the same place.”

  “The Dream Frontier.”

  “Yes,” Debra said. “That’s what Dad called it. He must have known so much more than he was able to tell us before they…oh, God.” She began to weep again. Copeland laid his hand upon hers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered at last.

  “Way I see it,” McAllister said, “if Levi’s after you, we need to keep you out of sight. You’re welcome to stay here. ’Course, I can’t offer any guarantees.”

  “That’s appreciated, Candle. We need all the help we can get. But you’d better understand—just by letting us in here, you’ve opened yourself to greater danger. You say the word, and we’re gone. I’d never have you risk your family.”

  “Hey. I’m with anybody who’d cross the Barrows. And this is you and me. Sometimes it don’t seem that long ago that we were damn close.”

  “Sometimes.”

  Debra shifted restlessly in her seat. After a moment, she asked, “May I use your bathroom?”

  “This way,” Carolyn said, taking her by the arm. “I’ll come with you.”

  Copeland looked after them, and sighed deeply. Debra was a little unsteady on her feet, and for the first time, she looked as if her reserves were beginning to wear thin. As were his own, for that matter.

  “She’s tough as nails, Candle, but after losing her parents like that…”

  “You lost somebody too. I can see it, Russ. You’re in shock. You just don’t realize it.”

  “Can’t afford to. Things are changing around us. There’s no telling what’s going on out there, right now. Where’s it going to end?”

  “It ends where it ends, I reckon. And all we can do is whatever it takes.”

  “I don’t like to think about what it’s going to take.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “I have a feeling I’m going to have to kill Levi Barrow. Or die trying.”

  McAllister leaned across the table and said in a low voice, “I’ll tell you something, Russ. Just a little while back, I had a bad encounter with his brother, Joshua. I was out deer hunting on Hickory Ridge. Great spot; a good many miles away from their land. But that bastard appeared out of nowhere, told me I was trespassing. When I disagreed, he let his knife fly. Damn thing sliced through my coat sleeve and stuck in a tree. You think he gave a shit I had a rifle in my hands?”

  “I’m guessing not.”

  “He knew up front that I wouldn’t shoot him.”

  “You play by the rules.”

  “It’s more than that. Anybody else had done that, they’d be lucky if I didn’t blow ’em to kingdom come. But if I’d shot Joshua, I’d be nailed up like a trophy to a tree. You cross one, you’ve crossed them all. And they’ve got old Grayson in their pocket.”

  “Not to mention a few hordes of Lumeras in the family.” He fell silent for a few moments, too stressed, too exhausted to think very clearly. He studied his old friend’s face, the decisive firmness of his jaw, the brilliant spark still alight in his amethyst eyes, undimmed after all these years. McAllister had never been much for talking; just action. Finally, Copeland said, “So, Candle. Is it just you and Carolyn? No kids?”

  “Got a boy up at Byston Hill. Like father, like son, and all. He’s sixteen. Name’s Dan. You and what’s-her-name never had any kids, did you?”

  “No. When you’re married to a lunatic, having no kids is a good thing. Megan was my one big mistake in life.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  “Until I came here, things seemed to be working out for the best.” He glanced toward the window that faced the dark backyard, half-afraid he would see something moving—a light in the trees or a pair of sapphire eyes watching them. There was nothing. “Well. Your wife is very nice.”

  “She’s an angel. She puts up with me.”

  A door in the hallway creaked, and a moment later, Debra and Carolyn reappeared, both looking somewhat more composed. But as Carolyn sat back down next to McAllister, she said, “The wind is picking up outside. Sounds like a storm coming.”

  They said nothing for several moments, listening. At the
edge of his hearing, Copeland detected a faint whisper, and something scraped lightly upon the shingles above their heads. McAllister rose, opened the fridge, and produced another beer, which he handed to Copeland. “Come out to the porch with me.”

  They went through the living room, and before stepping out, McAllister took his shotgun from its place beside the door. Outside, beyond their little island of light, the night had turned pitch black, and the wind swept down from the mountains in long, wistful sighs. In the distance, a deeper rumbling sound hinted at a powerful gale building. McAllister drew a cigarette from his shirt pocket; his lighter flame danced spastically as he lit it.

  “Storm coming, all right,” he said. “Way early in the season.”

  “Yeah. And it’s getting cold.”

  They peered into the darkness for a time, watching the silhouettes of the trees as they began to sway in the increasingly vigorous wind. Finally, McAllister said, “Do you think your Dream Frontier is affecting the weather?”

  Copeland shrugged. “Who knows? I suppose it could.”

  “How many other people know what’s going on? Have you talked to anyone?”

  He shook his head. “Far as I know, Major Martin was the only one who could have had any inkling.”

  “So no one else is in any position to figure out how to stop them.”

  “Jesus. With all that’s happened, we’ve barely gotten around to thinking about surviving.”

  McAllister clapped him on the shoulder. “I know, I’m sorry. But now that you’re here, we’ve got to figure out, number one, how to stay alive, and, number two, how to reverse what’s happening. If I understand you, Amos is really the one we have to deal with.”

  “He’s the one who opened the door.”

  “You know, poor and ignorant as they are, the Barrows have always made like they own this town and everyone in it. The idea that Granddaddy Barrow has found some unknown power is, to me, damn scary.”

  “From what Major Martin said, Amos believes he’s creating his own personal kingdom. But this thing is not entirely under his control. I think it’s liable to turn on him. By then, though, it could be too late for the rest of us.”

  “So, the sooner we get to him the better.”

  With a bleak look, Copeland said, “You know, we can’t ignore the possibility that this change is irreversible. Remember, Martin said that once this thing, this tower, has anchored itself—whatever that means—the Barrows are pretty much inconsequential.”

  “When does this happen?”

  “I have no idea.”

  In the distance—to the north—something flashed in the sky. At first, Copeland thought it was lightning, but then he saw a number of tiny, golden fireflies flitting high over their heads, painting pale yellow streaks on the heavy black backdrop. A few seconds later, the objects disappeared, but Copeland and McAllister peered long and hard into the night sky, wondering if the Dream Frontier were about to unleash some new terror upon them.

  “Those are the things we saw earlier tonight,” McAllister said.

  “A drop in the bucket compared to the ones around that tower.”

  “Un-freaking-believable.”

  The wind now howled shrilly through the trees, its chill burrowing deeply into Copeland’s bones. The beer can was frigid in his hand, but the alcohol had soothed his nerves, for he no longer felt on the edge of panic. Here, with his old friend, a spreading inner warmth nearly overcame the gale’s icy clutches.

  “You actually went into the Barrow house, eh? You’ve got some balls. That’s where you saw these things?”

  “Originally. They’ve spread all over the place now.”

  “What are the chances are of slipping back in there and putting Amos…out of commission?”

  He gave McAllister an incredulous stare. “Umm, Candle. It’s amazing we got out alive in the first place.”

  “But that jewel you referred to has to be the key, doesn’t it? Seems to me we’ve got to get hold of it.”

  “Even if we do, I wouldn’t begin to know what to do with it. Even Debra doesn’t know.”

  “Destroy it somehow. At least get it out of Amos’s reach. For all we know, he has to remain in contact with it.”

  “Or it might draw those things right down on us.”

  “You got any better ideas?”

  He sighed. “None with a happy ending.”

  “Think on it. We’ll put you up here tonight; hopefully you can get a good night’s sleep. And I propose that, tomorrow, we start actively looking for a way out of this. You’re sure we’re completely cut off from the outside?”

  “Everything I’ve seen today tells me that Major Martin knew exactly what he was talking about. You said yourself nobody has driven in from out of town.”

  McAllister gazed into the darkness in the direction of the road. “How far do you suppose one could go till he reaches the limit?”

  “I’d guess not very far. Your place is already a ways out of town.”

  “You know what? It’s tempting to go find out.”

  “But not very wise. Certainly not in the dark, with a storm coming.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. Then he glanced questioningly at Copeland. “Hey. You didn’t know Debra before you got here, did you?”

  “I met her right before Rodney’s funeral. That seems like forever ago now.”

  “She and Carolyn—and your sister—have been friends a long time. ’Course, Debra married that Harrington fellow and moved away for a while, which was a damn shame. Hate to say it, but something told me that was never going to work. She’s always been one of the few people in this town with any class.” He smiled wryly. “Hell, I sometimes wonder what any of us are doing here.”

  “You seem to have done all right.”

  “Can’t complain. Well, not much. Anyway, I just want you to know. We’ll do our best to look out for you. You’ve both gone through hell today.”

  “Thanks, Candle.” Copeland had to raise his voice as the wind came roaring out of the darkness, its cold fingers slashing his face. “We’d better get back inside. Hell may be just beginning.”

  McAllister led them back inside, where they found Carolyn and Debra coming toward them from the kitchen.

  “Just coming to check on you,” Carolyn said. “Sounds like it’s getting bad.”

  “Big wind.” He turned to Copeland. “We’ve got a generator in case the power goes out. Sometimes in the winter, we lose it for days on end. Don’t have a whole lot of extra food and supplies, but we can get by for a while if we have to—barring any unexpected trouble.”

  A heavy gust rattled the window panes, and Copeland felt a little tremor in his gut. Maybe this was just an early storm; maybe it was not. Something clattered heavily over the roof, and his eyes automatically turned to the ceiling. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked down to find Debra sliding in close to him, her face again drawn and wan.

  “I don’t like this,” she said in a worried tone.

  McAllister gestured to them. “Come with me.”

  He led them through the kitchen to a small den at the back of the house and a dark wooden cabinet, which he opened to reveal several rifles and shotguns. He selected a hefty-looking rifle and presented it ceremoniously to Copeland.

  “This one strikes me as just right for you. Remington Model 7600, thirty-ought-six, pump action. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable keeping that close. I don’t know what it takes to kill a Lumera, but if that doesn’t perforate one, not much will.”

  Copeland weighed the weapon in one hand, lifted it, and peered down the barrel. “Haven’t fired a rifle in years. I can still ride a bike, though, so I expect I can still shoot.”

  “It’s loaded. Four-round magazine.” He reached into a drawer below the cabinet, which was filled with boxes of bullets and shotgun shells; he found the appropriate ammo and handed a box to Copeland. Then he looked at Debra. “We’ve got something in your size too. A couple of these are Carolyn’s. Ruger M77 here. Two-se
venty caliber. That’d be perfect for you.”

  “Whatever,” Debra said.

  “You shoot?” Copeland asked.

  “Everyone in Silver Ridge ‘shoots.’”

  “Or I’ve got a 16-gauge, if you prefer.”

  “The Ruger’s fine.”

  He was just handing the rifle to Debra when his wife’s quavering voice beckoned them. “Doug! Doug! Come here!”

  They hurried into the living room and found Carolyn peering out the front window. She glanced at them with fear-brightened eyes.

  “Something’s out there. In the yard.”

  Copeland’s hands tightened on the Remington. “What’s it look like? Is it glowing?”

  She shook her head. “No. Something dark. Moving fast.”

  “You want to grab that light there?” McAllister said, pointing to a heavy-duty six-volt flashlight on the mantle above the fireplace. She took it down, and he motioned her to the door. “Russ, come on around here. We’ll go out first. Soon as we do, Carolyn, you shine that light out in the yard. Debra, stay inside the door, and be ready with that rifle. Keep an eye on the windows. Everyone got it?”

  “Okay,” Copeland and Debra said at once. Carolyn nodded, holding her flashlight at the ready.

  McAllister reached for the doorknob with his free hand, slowly turned it, then tugged the door open fiercely. In an instant, he was pushing his way through the storm door into the frigid night with Copeland hard on his heels. The moment they set foot on the front porch, Carolyn’s flashlight beam swept across the yard, illuminating the swaying oak trees, the stunted dogwoods at the edge of the road, their Durango SUV and Major Martin’s LeSabre in the driveway. Copeland’s eyes followed the roving beam, but he saw nothing unusual—until something moved at the corner of his eye, drawing his attention to the right side of the house. A dark silhouette, moving rapidly through the yard toward the road.

  “Carolyn!” he called. “There, to the right!”

  The beam shifted to reveal a pair of huge, golden eyes gleaming back at them. For a second, Copeland’s heart stopped; endless moments later, his brain registered the fact that the eyes belonged to a huge, ten-point buck, which stood frozen in mid-stride in the circle of blinding light.