by Gerri Hill
She followed his gaze to the west. “Looks like a storm.”
He nodded. “Be nice to get some rain on the fields. We’ll be looking to bale hay later this summer.”
“I was actually thinking more of us getting wet if we’re trying to bury him.”
Butch shrugged his shoulder with a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe she shot him,” he said again. “Are you sure we should bury him? I mean, shouldn’t we wait for the authorities?”
“Wait how long?” she asked as she opened up the barn door.
The last of the sunlight streamed inside, the shadows almost dancing in every corner. She could see particles of dust floating in the light and she walked inside, finding Hal’s body where Jean had said it would be. There was already a musty smell of decomp, which surprised her. It hadn’t been that many hours ago that Jean had shot him.
He was lying on his back, eyes opened…dull and lifeless. His arms were out to his sides, palms up. One leg was buckled, the other out straight. As she stared at him, a frown formed.
“There’s no blood,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“What?”
She pointed to his chest where the obvious shotgun blast had hit. “No blood. Powder burns on his shirt, nothing more.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m almost afraid to take a guess,” she said. “Come on. Help me move him.”
She bent over, intending to grab him by his ankles, but Butch never moved. She looked up at him, and he was staring at the body, a rather pensive expression on his face.
“Butch?”
Butch slowly slid his gaze toward her, and she noticed that he had a faraway look in his eyes. “I don’t think we should move him.”
“We can’t just leave him in here,” she said. “Grab his wrists. Let’s pull him out.”
Butch looked back at the body but didn’t move.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
“I don’t think we should move him,” he said again, his speech slow and even.
She looked around the barn, seeing the shadows creeping closer. There was only a trickle of sunlight coming inside now. She didn’t have time to argue with him. She’d seen her share of dead bodies before—plenty—but this one made her uneasy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught inside the barn after dark. She tugged his legs and tried to drag him toward the door.
“I said no!”
Butch shoved her away, hard enough for her to land on her ass. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked as she got to her feet.
“Leave him alone,” Butch said loudly, holding his hands out as if shielding the body.
“We cannot leave a dead man in here and let that poor woman deal with him,” she said, pointing toward the house. “If you’re not going to help me, then get the hell out of my way.”
Butch took a protective stance over the body with a fierce shake of his head. “No!”
“Jesus Christ, man, what’s gotten into you?”
“I…I can’t. He needs to stay here. Right here.”
The shadows were heavy now and Corey could feel them pressing against her. She had an urge to run out the door and into the light. The sun was fading fast, but if they hurried, they could still have him buried before full dark. She was about to try one more time to get Butch to help when he jumped and glanced down at his feet.
She followed his gaze, her eyes widening. Hal’s hand had opened and was clinched tight around Butch’s ankle. Corey grabbed Butch and pulled him away, but Butch turned on her, swinging his arm as if to hit her. She easily deflected him and spun him around, forcibly shoving him out the door.
He turned and charged her, wrapping his arms around her and taking them both to the ground. She rolled, taking the brunt of the force on her shoulder as she kicked him off her. She scrambled to her feet, only to have him charge her again. At the last second, she jumped to the side, then grabbed him, jerking him around. A fierce kick to the groin dropped him to his knees, and he curled into the fetal position, cupping himself as he writhed in pain.
“Sorry,” she murmured. She ran a little ways toward the house, then stopped. “Dana!” she yelled. “Dana! I need some help!”
She went back to Butch, who was trying to get to his feet. She pushed him down again. “Stay down or I’ll tie your ass up,” she threatened.
She heard the screen door slam and turned, seeing Dana and Lucky hurrying toward her. Dana’s eyes widened and she looked at her accusingly.
“What did you do to him?” Dana squatted down beside him. “Butch…are you okay?”
Corey’s eyes were drawn to Lucky, who had stopped several feet away. The dog let out a low growl, the hair on his back standing on end. She quickly grabbed Dana and pulled her up.
“Stay away from him.”
Dana jerked her arm away. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Something’s wrong with him, not me,” Corey said. “Look at the dog.”
Lucky was staring at Butch, showing his teeth now, his growl turning into a sharp bark.
Butch struggled to his feet, then took a lunge at Dana. Corey intercepted him and twisted his arms behind his back, disabling him. Butch kicked at her legs, and she twisted his arms tighter until he cried out in pain.
“Oh, my God,” Dana said as she backed up. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s get him to the house,” she said, dragging Butch along with her.
Lucky darted around them, his barking subsiding the closer they got to the house. By the time they got to the back door, Lucky’s tail was wagging and he was licking Butch’s hand. Corey loosened her hold on Butch and let him stand. He looked at her with wide eyes, then shook his head as if trying to clear it.
He turned his gaze to Dana, blinking several times. “What’s going on?”
Dana put her hands on her hips. “You tell us.”
He looked at his hands, turning them over. “Did we get Hal buried already?”
Jean held the door open, and Corey led Butch inside. Jean looked between them and Corey could see the fear in her eyes.
“Something happen with Hal?” she asked in a shaky voice.
Corey nodded, then settled Butch down in a chair. “Butch, you think we should bury Hal?”
He looked up at her, confusion on his face. “Well, we can’t leave him in there,” he said.
Corey ran her hands across her hair several times, trying to figure out what was going on. The fact that a dead man had his fingers wrapped around Butch’s ankle was still foremost in her mind.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?” Dana asked quietly.
Corey nodded, then looked back at Butch. “Do you remember anything that happened?”
“We were…” He looked away from her, a frown marring his features. “We were going to bury Hal. You wanted…you wanted me to help you.” He glanced at her again, his eyes widening. “He grabbed me. He grabbed my ankle.”
Jean gasped. “Hal? But—”
“He’s dead,” Butch said. “How could he—”
“You freaked out in there,” Corey said bluntly. “It was like you were…possessed,” she said, using Jean’s word of how she described Hal. “You wouldn’t let me move him. You kept saying to leave him. Then you took a swing at me.”
“When I came out,” Dana said, “it was like you weren’t there. You looked at me, but you didn’t really see me. You tried to attack me.”
Butch shook his head. “I would never hit you. What are you talking about?”
Corey rubbed her forehead, trying to decide what to do. It would be dark soon. There was no way they could bury him now. But she didn’t think burying him was the answer.
“I think we should burn the body,” she said.
Jean held a hand to her chest, her eyes wide. “Burn Hal?” She shook her head. “No. No, you can’t. Not my Hal.”
“You said yourself that it wasn’t Hal,” she reminded her. “He tried to kill you.”
“I don’t like the idea of burning a body, Corey,” Dana said. “That’s going too far.”
“Something’s not right with him. I’m not sure it’s just a body anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You saw what happened to Butch. Like he was being manipulated—controlled—by something.” She turned back to Jean. “When you shot Hal…there wasn’t any blood, was there?”
“No,” Jean whispered. “It was like…like he was already dead.”
Dana grabbed Corey’s arm, turning her around to face her. “What is it that you’re suggesting?”
“I don’t really know,” she said honestly. She pointed at Butch. “You stay here. Help Miss Jean.”
“But—”
“Dana’s going to help me.”
“I am?”
“We need to hurry. It’ll be dark soon.” She glanced at Jean. “Make sure he stays.”
“Are you going to…to burn my Hal?”
Corey stared at her. “That man out there is not your Hal. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.” She touched Butch’s shoulder gently. “I’ll get him to peel potatoes.”
Corey motioned Dana out the door, then on impulse, called for Lucky. The dog followed obediently.
They walked in silence to the barn. It was dark inside, and she half-expected the body to be gone. But it was where she’d left it. As she got nearer, rustling in the stall made her jump, and Dana gave a startled gasp too.
Corey smiled with a relieved sigh. “Chickens,” she said.
Dana covered her nose and mouth, but Corey hardly noticed the smell.
“He…he really grabbed Butch?”
“Look, I’m as scared as you are.”
“I doubt that. My teeth are chattering,” Dana said.
“Let’s drag him out,” Corey said. “Take his leg.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Dana murmured as she grabbed his foot.
He was lighter than Corey expected and they moved him easily. Lucky was waiting outside the barn, and again, he emitted a low growl as he circled the body.
“Let’s go around back,” Corey said. “No need for Jean to see this.”
“We’re going to get into all kinds of trouble for doing this, aren’t we? I mean—”
“I don’t like doing this any more than you do,” she said as they drug him around to the back of the barn. “You heard Jean. When she shot him, there was no blood. Whatever the hell is going on, this isn’t her husband. That’s why we need to burn him.” She stopped and straightened up. “You should have seen Butch,” she said. “He refused to let me move him. He pushed me down when I tried to. Like I said, he was possessed.” She pointed to the body. “It was like Butch was protecting it.”
Dana took a few steps away as the wind picked up. She looked to the sky as if only now noticing how dark it was. Lucky was standing several feet away, whimpering.
“We should hurry,” Dana said. “I got a really bad feeling.”
“You and me both, honey,” she murmured as she turned and headed back toward the barn. Dana ran after her.
“Where are you going? What are you doing?”
“Looking for some diesel or something. You stay with the body.”
“The hell I will,” Dana said. “You’re not leaving me alone out there.”
“Okay. Look for some fuel. Diesel, kerosene, anything.”
“What about what she’s using for the generator?”
“I don’t want to use that unless we have to. When we leave here, she’s going to still need her generator,” she said.
Luck was on their side, though. Just inside the door of the barn she found several containers of fuel. She took one outside into the waning light and opened it up, smelling it.
“Diesel,” she said. “Run to the house. See if Jean’s got some matches or a lighter. I’ll meet you around back.”
“Okay.”
“Take Lucky with you,” Corey said. “Lucky seems to have a sense for…well, if something isn’t right.”
“Maybe you should take him with you.”
“I’ll be with the body.” She looked at Dana. “In case something happens to me,” she said pointedly.
“Oh, Jesus…you don’t mean—”
“Bring her shotgun back with you. Or Butch’s rifle.”
“No. Jesus…you’re talking crazy. Wait for me here,” Dana said as she ran toward the house.
Lucky stayed with her, and Corey reached out and stroked the dog’s head. “Crazy, yeah. This whole damn thing is crazy,” she murmured. What she was thinking was crazy too. Could Duncan have been right? Could the alleged meteor have really been something else?
She didn’t have long to ponder the question as Dana ran back to her. She held up her hand.
“Got matches.”
“Let’s go.”
Again, Corey wouldn’t have been surprised if the body was missing, but it wasn’t. She didn’t think about what she was doing as she doused it with the diesel. She knew, without wood for fuel, the fire would do little more than char the body. Char it beyond recognition. Tomorrow, they would bury what remained.
She struck a match and tossed it on the body. The flame ignited the diesel immediately and she jumped back, watching in fascination as the fire consumed the body like it was nothing more than a straw man. She walked over to where Dana was standing near the corner of the barn.
A loud clap of thunder sounded, and Dana moved closer to her, their shoulders touching. Across the valley to the west, they could see lightning.
“Storm’ll be here soon,” she said quietly.
Another loud clap of thunder sent them back toward the house. Just before they reached the back door, the dark sky seemed to explode with lightning and as Lucky leaned against her leg, Corey could feel the dog trembling.
“Don’t like storms, boy?”
She’d no sooner said that when Jean opened the back door and beckoned the dog inside. Dana followed, then looked back at her questioningly.
“Be there in a second,” she said.
She walked around to the side of the house, watching the lightning. It seemed to be shooting from all directions. She went a little farther away from the house, scanning the horizon. Each lightning strike, no matter where it originated in the sky, seemed to strike the same place. She watched in awe as a streak cut the dark sky, illuminating a far distant ridge. Thunder rumbled around her as more strikes followed, all drawn to the same ridge. She wondered if it was possible for something to attract lightning or if lightning strikes were random.
When the first drops of rain fell, she turned and made her way back to the house, pausing once to look back to where the lightning was concentrated, trying to memorize the location in her mind. But another loud clap of thunder followed by the beginning of a downpour sent her scurrying inside.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After the big meal they’d had last night, Dana was surprised she had any appetite for breakfast, but Corey had gone out at daybreak with Jean to gather eggs. She wondered if perhaps Jean had wanted to see Hal—to see what was left—for some sort of closure.
When she’d served breakfast, Jean had apologized for having no bacon, but the sausage patties she’d taken from the freezer were excellent, not to mention the fried potatoes.
“How do you stay so thin?” Corey asked as Dana took another helping of potatoes.
“She’s gained seven pounds in the last year,” Butch offered.
Dana glared at him. “Will you shut up? That wasn’t to be shared with anyone.”
“I love a woman who can eat like a man,” Jean said.
Dana groaned as both Butch and Corey laughed. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment, Miss Jean.”
After a while, Corey stood and went to the back door, looking out. Because of the rain last
night, it was cool and crisp this morning. Dana had taken her first cup of coffee out to the porch to enjoy it. Of course, her eyes were drawn to the barn, and she couldn’t help but remember how they’d ended the day.
When they’d finally sat down to supper, conversation had been nonexistent. She wondered if any of them would even be able to eat. But Jean had served them smothered pork chops and gravy, telling them it had been one of Hal’s favorite meals. It wasn’t until she’d taken the first bite that she realized they hadn’t eaten since that morning. They finished off the pork chops and mashed potatoes and Jean had seemed pleased that they had.
There wasn’t much discussion about them staying the night with Jean. As before at Anna Gail’s…she and Corey shared a bed and Butch took the sofa, the other spare room having been converted into Jean’s sewing room. No one commented when Butch propped his rifle next to him or when Jean went off to her room with Lucky by her side and the shotgun cradled in her arms. It wasn’t until Corey opened her pack and pulled out a handgun that the reality of it all hit her. She was normally terrified of guns. For some reason, the fact that Corey had one and was taking it to bed with them offered her some comfort.
Because they were possibly in danger. Only they didn’t know from who or what.
That thought made her move a little closer to Corey during the night, fearing she would get no sleep. She was surprised, then, when she awoke hours later with dawn creeping in their window…and Corey already up and dressed.
This morning, everyone seemed to be a little more talkative and relaxed, even Jean, although her puffy eyes were evidence that she’d had a tearful night.
“I need to tell you all something,” Corey said as she finally turned away from the door.
Dana arched an eyebrow. She could tell by the tone of Corey’s voice that she was in Captain Conaway mode now.
“Miss Jean, sit down,” Corey said gently. “We’ll all help clean up from breakfast in a bit.”
Jean nodded and took her coffee cup back to the table with her, sitting down beside Butch. Lucky was lying on the floor on the other side of Butch, and he handed the dog the last of his fried potatoes, causing Jean to shake her head disapprovingly.
“Yesterday morning was the first time Lucky’s been in the house,” she said. “Look at him now. Didn’t take him long to learn how to beg.”