Sinder stood, hypnotized, his arms spread wide to embrace his love.
One hesitant, staggering step at a time, Emily reached Sinder. With wild, feverish eyes, he said, “My love, you've come to me at last.” She walked into his embrace. “My love,” he whispered.
Emily opened her mouth and tore out a chunk of flesh out of Sinder's neck. He screamed. Blood sprayed from the wound and coated Emily's face. Every other zombie opened its mouth and howled along with their master.
Annie raised the rifle. She peered down the iron sights and pulled the trigger.
The gun bucked in her hands and spat fire.
The bullet hummed past Sinder's head—
—and into the metal flank of the propane truck.
A tiny dot of a hole appeared on the truck, a black spot surrounded by a shiny, metal halo of flaked paint. For a second, there was nothing but the angry squeal of escaping gas. Then, a heartbeat later, a gout of orange-blue flame poured forth, enveloping Sinder and Emily.
Annie stepped toward Sinder as he staggered blindly away from the flame, his skin blackened and peeling, his hair and his clothes still on fire. Blood still gushed from his neck. Annie seized his hand and yanked the ring off, along with the charred skin of his finger. Her jacket and her hair caught on fire, but she held the ring up triumphantly in her clenched fist.
“No!” screamed Sinder, blindly swiping at thin air, as Annie backed away with the ring.
Freed of Sinder's control, the zombies turned and closed on Annie. She tried to raise her rifle, but it was too late. She pushed one off and it bit down on her wrist. Another grabbed her shoulder and sank its teeth in. Josh ran a few steps toward her, then stopped. Annie turned to face him. She yelled at him, “Go! Don't waste this!”
An instant before she disappeared beneath the crush of bodies, Annie threw the ring.
***
The gold ring sailed through the air, the red stone glinting.
Alex drew his pistol, quicksilver fast, cocking the hammer in the same smooth movement—
—and fired his last bullet.
Tumbling in midair, the red stone shattered into dust. The ring, broken and twisted into a golden pretzel, fell to the earth.
A shockwave traveled outward from the ring like the concussion from an explosion. All at once the zombies dropped dead.
Really, finally dead.
Flames poured from the hole in the propane truck, and the noise rose to a high-pitched scream. Annie raised her head from the pile of corpses. “I said run, you goddamned idiots.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The propane truck exploded.
In an instant, the rickety remains of Old Prosperity were blasted to matchwood, blown across the desert like dry leaves. An orange mushroom cloud rose into the sky. The explosion boomed and rolled across the desert hills.
Alex, running full tilt down Old Mine Road, felt a giant hand pick him bodily up. Suddenly he was weightless, flying, with the desert road zooming by beneath him. He landed and ate dirt.
The mushroom cloud evolved in slow motion, fading from orange to black, rising and expanding over the wreckage of Old Prosperity, even as the gray storm clouds dissolved away to blue sky. Alex picked himself up. Josh, just a few feet away, did the same.
Rachael stumbled over to them. “I guess that was plan D,” she said.
Alex nodded. “I reckon so.”
Rachael smiled and rolled her eyes. “You reckon.”
Bits of zombie fell out of the sky like rain. They walked back through the mess, toward the burning wreckage of Old Prosperity. The propane truck's twisted chassis was there in the middle of an even larger crater. Its tires burned vigorously, and a column of thick black smoke rose into the air.
In the middle of the street, something moved. Alex drew his sword and held it ready.
The charred, twisted thing rose to its feet. It pointed a hooked, smoldering finger at Josh. “You . . .” it rasped, “you did this. You did this to me. You did this to her.” Sinder staggered toward them.
Alex turned the sword in his hands so that the naked blade rested, edge up, in the crook of his elbow. He held the handle out to Josh. “Think you earned this one, kid.”
Josh took the sword. He turned the blade briefly in the light, examining the edge. He looked at Sinder, and his eyes narrowed. He wound up like a batter at the plate.
Sinder screamed, “This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite thee, and take thine head from thee; and I will give the carcases of the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to the wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know—”
Josh swung the blade in a hard, diagonal slash. The top half of Sinder's head spun away, revealing a pink center like cutting into a charred steak. Sinder dropped to his knees, muttering gibberish, then fell backward into the dirt with his legs twisted under him. His brains slid out of his skull and onto the ground.
“You were the worst teacher I ever had,” Josh muttered.
Something else moved then. They all turned. The pile of burnt corpses shifted. A hand reached out from beneath the bodies. Alex ran over and pulled a corpse away. There was Annie. Charred, broken, but still alive. Barely.
Rachael knelt next to her. “Hey, just hold on, okay? We're gonna get you out of here. Just don't move.”
“Little late for all that,” Annie wheezed. “I ain't much longer for this earth. But don't you worry none. It ain't like you think. The ring is gone. Ashford's power is broken. I . . . I can go. It ain't like dyin'. It's . . . it's like goin' home. Back to where I belong. I remember everything now. I'm goin' back home at last. Thank you, stranger, for your help. You drop by my bar before you leave. There's something there for you. And you, Joshua, you're a good kid. Hell, you're a good man. You're gonna do great . . .” Her eyes rolled up into her head and she trailed off.
Rachael felt her pulse. Tears welled in her eyes. “She's gone.”
Alex nodded, his face like stone.
“God, I hate this town,” said Josh.
“Right there with you, kid,” said Alex. “Let's make like . . . like a . . .”
“Make like a what?” asked Rachael.
“I dunno,” said Alex. “I got nothin'.”
Josh smirked. “Let's make like a fart and blow this shithole.”
Alex laughed and slapped Josh on the shoulder. He said, “Kid, you got potential. So anyway, I was headin' out to Vegas next. I don't suppose you two'd like to come along for the ride?”
“I wouldn't mind that a bit,” said Rachael, as she slipped her arm around his elbow.
Josh added, “I'll go anywhere as long as it isn't here.”
“Well, we'd better get movin' then. I reckon we ain't got long before every cop 'tween here and Louisiana is gonna be dropping down on this town like a pallet of bricks.”
“About that . . .” said Rachael.
“Aw, don't worry,” said Alex. “I got a plan.”
“Something tells me that you always do.”
***
Covered in dust and blood and grime, the three staggered side by side down Main Street toward the diner. As they passed by Annie's Saloon, Alex said, “Hang on. I won't be but a second.” He went into the saloon. There was a letter on the bar, hand written on note paper and held down with an empty bottle of bourbon. The note read,
Stranger,
I reckon by now I see that you're one of the good guys. And I've got a weird feeling that I ain't gonna make it out of this one alive, one way or another. There's something here I think you'll want. You asked about that night in 1954 when Elvis Presley stopped here. I told you them kids was as broke as the Ten Commandments, and I had to buy 'em a tank of gas just so as they could get out of town. Well, that young man, he was as nice as anything. He wouldn't accept my charity. He had to give me somethin' in return. About all he could spare was his sunglasses. He handed 'em over to me, and he told me that if he never got to pay me back, I shouldn't worry
because someday those sunglasses would be worth more than any tank of gas. 'Course, I didn't take him seriously at the time. But I took the sunglasses. I put 'em on the stuffed moose up above the bar. There they sat, all this time. They're yours now if you want 'em. Happy trails, stranger.
Alex, still holding the note, looked up at the moose above the bar. It stared back, its eyes hidden behind a pair of black, plastic sunglasses. “Holy of holies . . .” he whispered.
He stood up on the counter behind the bar. Reverently, he took the sunglasses and turned them in his hands. There, scratched into the plastic on the inside of the arm, were the initials eap.
“Elvis Aaron gol-damned Presley,” Alex whispered. He slipped the sunglasses on. “Hail to the King.”
***
Alex emerged from the bar, wearing his new sunglasses.
At the same time, Rachael walked out of the pharmacy holding a pack of cigarettes. She peeled the cellophane off. “Nice shades,” she said as she pulled out a cigarette and put it between her lips. “What was that all about?”
“Let's get the hell out of here, then I'll tell you all about it.”
Rachael nodded and lit her smoke. She took a drag, closed her eyes, and said, “Oh my God, that's good.”
They continued on to the motel, where Alex's car waited.
Josh turned around and looked back down Main Street, past the carnage of mangled bodies, the burned out cars, the smoking wreckage. “I'm finally getting the fuck out of this town.”
Rachael put a hand on his shoulder. “Me, too. It's about time, wouldn't you say?”
The whine of police sirens rose in the distance. “Shit,” said Alex. “Time to move.”
They piled into the car.
Alex fired up the engine and pulled out onto the highway. “Now, everybody just act cool.”
“So, what's your plan?” asked Rachael.
Alex shrugged. “My plan was to come up with a great plan at the last second, but I gotta say, I'm drawin' a blank. You got any ideas?”
She didn't respond.
“Well, okay then. We'll try it my way.”
Blue and red lights appeared on the horizon. A lot of them. Sirens howled, and a swarm of police vehicles raced toward Prosperity. They grew ever closer.
“Just fly casual,” said Josh.
“Nothin' to it,” muttered Alex, holding the car at a steady and sedate speed. “Nothin' to see here, officer, just keep on drivin'.”
A hundred feet out, a Highway Patrol SUV swerved into the oncoming lane and stopped. A dozen more vehicles screeched to a stop around it. Uniformed officers jumped out, wearing helmets and body armor, carrying shotguns and black military rifles. They threw out spike strips and took up positions behind their vehicles, aiming right at Alex.
A voice blared over a tinny loudspeaker. “Driver, stop your vehicle.”
“Well, shit.” Alex eased the car to a stop.
“Hey,” said Josh. “We're the victims here. Why are we so worried?”
“First thing you learn about vampire huntin' is that the law don't make no distinction between you killin' a vampire and killin' an actual human being. I reckon it goes about the same for zombies.”
Rachael looked nervously over the assembled police. She shifted in her seat. “Well, what do you want to do?”
“I dunno.” Alex kept his hands on the wheel, the engine idling. “This baby here can outrun any police cruiser, I guarantee it. But where the hell would we go?”
“Driver, step out of the car with your hands up.”
“Back the other way?” said Josh.
“Likely be the same situation on the other side of town.”
“There's a dirt turnoff just a little ways outside of town,” Josh replied. “If you could make it there before the police do, it leads to a Paiute reservation. Once you get into the canyons, there's hundreds of miles of dirt track road. It's a maze, and it's tribal land. The state police don't have jurisdiction there.”
“Pretty sure that wouldn't stop 'em. Still, it might at least slow 'em down a little. Can't say I've got a better option. How 'bout a vote? Everybody in favor of steppin' out of the car, keepin' our mouths shut, and hiring lawyers that drink wine outta the skulls of their fallen enemies, say aye.”
Nobody spoke.
“Guess that's it, then. No sudden moves.”
“Turn off your engine and step out of the vehicle.” The line of police cars bristled with rifle barrels.
Alex gripped the gearshift. He goosed the engine and the car shuddered. “When I start movin', bullets are gonna start flyin'. So y'all stay low.”
He shifted the car into reverse and looked over the police cars one more time. “Okay, here goes nothin'.”
A brown sedan bombed along the gravel shoulder of the highway, past the assembled mob of police cars. A single red rotating light adorned its roof. The car swerved in front of the police cruisers, between them and Alex's car, and screeched to a stop.
Cooper climbed out of the driver's seat. He wore a brown suit and tie, and his eyes were hidden behind mirrored aviator sunglasses.
“Well, I'll be gol-damned,” muttered Alex.
“You know that guy?” asked Rachael.
“I guess I really don't.”
One of the police officers approached Cooper, swearing and waving his arms. Cooper lit into the man, screaming back, pointing at the old Ford and its occupants. For a moment it looked like an umpire arguing with a baseball coach. The cop put his hand on his gun. Faster on the draw, Cooper pulled out an ID wallet and flicked it open as he shoved it in the cop's face. The cop paled. Cooper, still holding the wallet with one hand, poked the cop in the chest with his finger, speaking quietly but forcefully, pushing the man back another step with each poke until he ran into a patrol car.
Cooper straightened his tie. The tails of his suit flapping in the wind, he approached Alex's car. He leaned down and looked inside.
“Hey, Coop,” said Alex. “Good to see you.”
Cooper scowled. “Get the fuck out of here, Alex.”
“Wait, so you mean I can just—”
“Am I speaking English? Go.”
“Yessir.” Alex touched his hat brim and pushed the shifter into first gear. The big engine growled, and the Ford crept toward the police blockade. The uniformed officers glared at him, their heads turning to follow as he eased onto the gravel shoulder and drove past the knot of police cars. Alex smiled and waved.
On the other side of the blockade lay open highway. Alex floored it. The car's rear end shimmied and the tires spun before they found traction and the car shot forward. Alex banged smoothly through the gears and brought the car up to highway speed. Hot, desert air whipped through the cab.
“Hooo-ly shit,” said Alex, laughing softly. “Weren't that something?”
“I'm not sure what, though.”
“Me either, darlin'. But I ain't gonna question it right this second. We made it.”
Nobody said anything for a minute. The car rocketed along over the smooth blacktop. The desert rolled by outside, and the hot air buffeted through the car. Josh looked silently out the side window, out at the barren desert rushing by outside.
Rachael noticed the wires running from the car stereo. She took out her phone. “You mind?”
“Go on ahead.”
She plugged the phone in. A driving beat filled the cab, soon joined by the crunch of a dirty rock-and-roll guitar.
After a moment, Alex nodded. “What the hell is this?”
“This, sir, is the Reverend Horton Heat.”
Alex smiled and nodded. “Well, I'll be gol-damned.”
***
Up ahead on the highway, a dot on the horizon gradually resolved into a semi-truck, jackknifed across the road. Alex down-shifted, and the engine howled as the car slowed.
A bloated corpse hung out the driver's side window of the cab, surrounded by a swarm of flies.
Alex whistled. “Wouldn't want to be the poor bastard what's
gotta open that trailer.” He carefully maneuvered his car onto the shoulder, around the wreck, and then back onto the road on the far side. He pushed the pedal to the floor.
Alex said, “Hey, do me a favor?”
“Yeah?” Rachael answered.
He handed his phone to Rachael. “There's a business card in the glove box. Dial the number for me.”
Rachael dug the card out of the glove box, then dialed. When the phone started ringing, she handed it to Alex.
He took the phone and put it to his ear. “Yeah, hey, this is Alex. I did a little favor for you the other day. Remember me?” After a pause, he continued. “I'm real glad to hear that. Listen, about that suite you mentioned, think I'm gonna take you up on the offer. Any chance I could get another room for a friend of mine?” Another pause. “Well, I thank you kindly. And listen, I got one more favor to ask. It's a bit more complicated, but it's win-win, you feelin' me? I'll tell you all about it when I get there. Thanks a million, pal.” He hung up the phone.
Rachael turned in her seat to face Alex. She flashed a feline smile. “A suite? That sounds nice. I hope I'm invited.”
“You know it, darlin'.”
“So, what's the other favor?” Rachael asked.
Alex only smiled. “You just wait and see.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Alex and Rachael sat at a tiny round table with a red Formica top, upon which a candle burned in a red, glass holder. The cocktail waitress leaned down to set a Corona and a chilled glass in front of Alex, and a margarita in front of Rachael. Alex thanked her and set a bill down on her tray. She winked before turning away.
The lounge was dimly lit, decorated in red and gold and mirrors. Twenty or so tables just like Alex and Rachael's were scattered around the room. A row of red-vinyl-upholstered bar stools lined the bar, where a bartender in suit and tie stood with a row of liquor bottles behind him. Behind and above the bar was a stage, empty except for a single microphone on a stand.
“Well,” Rachael said, leaning forward with a smile, holding her margarita glass by the stem, “I'm impressed.” She looked around the room briefly and licked salt from the rim of the glass. “This is swanky. You're people who know people.” She wore a slinky, black, off-the-shoulder dress that ended above the thigh, revealing more tattoos.
Alex Rains, Vampire Hunter (Book 2): Hell Night Page 27