Boneyard Rumblers

by Gina Ranalli

  The longer he was here, the more he realized what a stupid plan this had been. He couldn’t count on Cash being true to his word. He was a monster, after all. A ravenous, vicious beast, not even really human anymore.

  Despite wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there, head back to the cover of the forest and then the car, he instead began to make his way towards the next nearest window, hoping against hope that he would finally spy Sam in there, praying it would be in one piece, but still doubting it just the same.

  He resolved to give up this suicide mission if he didn’t spot Sam within the next minute or two. That decision made him feel a bit better and he was putting the plan in motion, silently creeping, when he heard a loud engine approaching.

  From the far corner of the house, headlights appeared. Something had pulled into the driveway and now he heard voices from within, just on the other side of the wall he was pressed against.

  The sound of boot heels advancing towards the screen door and then, clear as a bell, a man with a deep southern drawl began to swear.

  CHAPTER 20

  Everyone in the farmhouse tensed when they heard the engine of a vehicle pulling into the driveway. Walt prepared to bolt out the back door and probably would have if Bliss hadn’t grabbed his arm first.

  “Wait,” Bliss said, ducking down and lifting his head only high enough to peek out a window. What he saw amazed him: Opal climbing out of an obviously stolen Winnebago.

  “Holy fuck,” he whispered before straightening up and racing out of the house to meet her.

  “What the fuck is this?” he demanded, gesturing at the mobile home.

  “What does it look like?” she countered. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Maybe if I didn’t think the owners will notice it’s missing in about five seconds flat!”

  Opal laughed bitterly. “You really think I’m a moron, don’t you? The owners are inside and trust me, they’re not going to be calling any pigs about their precious two hundred grand toy house.”

  He looked from her face to the Winnebago and back again. “They’re inside?”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  “Where’s what’s her name?”

  “Willa? She’s in there too. Eating.” Opal flashed a red smile and patted her own belly. “Old folks aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be.”

  By now both John and Walt had stepped outside as well, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of excitement and dread.

  “So,” Bliss said, his patience waning. “You stole this thing and left the bodies inside it?”

  “What was I supposed to do with them? Seemed smarter than leaving them at a rest stop.”

  “We get rid of the bodies and then what?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “We have DNA all over the place. That seems smart to you?”

  Opal rolled her eyes and looked away. “Whatever. I did us a favor. We needed a mobile home and I got us one. Besides, are you telling me the FBI has your DNA on file? When did they get it? The eighteen hundreds?”

  Annoyed, Bliss said, “Pull it around back. At least it won’t be able to be seen from the road.”

  Without another word, Opal did as she was told and Bliss turned to look at Walt and John. “I guess we’ll be hitting the highway sooner than expected. We need to put some distance between us and this area before the kids of that old couple finally realize they haven’t heard from Ma and Pa in a few days.”

  “Maybe they don’t have any kids,” Walt said. “Not everyone does.”

  Bliss ran a hand over his stubbly face. Slowly, as though he were talking to a particularly stupid child, he said, “Let’s assume they do, okay? Go grab your shit. We’re moving out in twenty.”

  Walt immediately went back into the house, but John remained. “What about Melosia?”

  “She’ll ride with you in the mobile home. You’ll take the girls. Walt will drive the Bronco with Meadows.”

  “I don’t know if she should be moved.”

  “It’s either that or we leave her. Which would you rather?”

  “What about Cotton?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Bliss groaned. “Nearly forgot about him.” He thought for a moment, gazing off towards the woods behind the house. “I guess we’ll leave him. I think I probably fucked him up too much anyway. He doesn’t even know who or where he is anymore. Doubt he’ll tell us anything useful at this point.”

  John nodded his agreement and the two of them started towards the rear of the house, walking side by side. Bliss was surprised when John, speaking in a low voice, asked, “Are you going to tell them who Meadows is?”

  Stopping in his tracks, Bliss grabbed John’s arm, causing the other man to stop as well. Bliss studied his friend’s face, searching his eyes, debating on whether or not to protest, but he saw that John would not be swayed from his suspicions.

  “I don’t see a point in telling them shit. Do you?”

  John shrugged. “It’s just…to me the resemblance is uncanny. Just figured it would be to the others too.”

  Bliss nearly laughed at that. Nearly. “Are you kidding me? You know just as well as me how dumb Walt is. And Opal?” Now he did laugh, sounding genuinely amused. “Come on, now.”

  “What about him though?”

  “Him?”

  “Joshua. He’s bound to notice eventually.”

  “I suppose so. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “And Cash? What about that bridge?”

  Fuck, Bliss thought. He knew about Cash too? But what he said was, “What about Cash?”

  John gave him a look that clearly said, don’t bullshit me, man.

  Bliss sighed. “A man has to protect his spawn. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “You’re not a man, Gunnar. And neither is he. None of us are. Not men or women. We’re…something else.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, I’m not sure those kinds of rules apply to us. I mean, I feel like I love Mel, but how upset do I really seem? Maybe it’s just…I don’t know…habit. You know? Going through the motions. Like muscle memory or something.”

  It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to Bliss, to think they were ‘going through the motions,’ and he could see from John’s face it wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it either.

  “Even if it is,” Bliss said, “does it matter? What difference does it make? I say, if it keeps us protecting our own, it can only be a good thing. The only way we’ll ever grow our numbers. And if the loss of a number doesn’t bother us the way we think it should…well, that’s probably a good thing too. We’re not weak like they are.” He gestured at no one, but his meaning was clear. ‘No one’ meant humans.

  The two resumed walking to the backyard, the rain falling harder now. Neither of them paid any attention to the weather but both were surprised when they rounded the corner of the house and found Melosia standing there, her thin blouse already soaked through, her wet hair plastered to her skull and drawn face. Her eyes stared at John, bright with accusation.

  “You’re leaving me?” she cried. “With that…that corpse in there?”

  John went to her, attempting to clasp her hands in his, but she pulled roughly away.

  “No!” he said. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

  “Because I’m hurt! I know you think that makes me weak. And now there’s another. That boy!”

  “Boy? You mean Meadows? He’s not a boy, Mel. He’s just a guy.”

  “A bad guy, you mean. I was never bad enough for you, was I? Why did you even marry me?”

  Both John and Bliss stared at her with confusion. She seemed to have slipped a groove somewhere and Bliss didn’t know if it was because she was sick or maybe it was just the pain causing her delirium.

  He took a step towards her and said, “Why are you out here, Melosia? Come on. Let’s go back inside to talk about this.” He tried putting an arm around her shoulders, but she shook h
im off, her eyes flashing with anger.

  “This is your fault, you bastard!” she shouted. “You act like we’re all a family, but we’re not! You’re the head honcho and the rest of us are just your fucking pawns! You play with us!”

  Bliss held his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Calm down, Melosia. There’s no need for all this yelling and upsetting yourself.”

  Much to his amazement, she lunged at him, managing to scratch his cheek before John got between them and held her back. Luckily, she hadn’t morphed and only made contact with her human fingernails, otherwise, Bliss would probably have been holding a strip of his face like a piece of uncooked bacon.

  “What the hell?” he snapped, tempted to backhand her, but checking himself. “You lost your damn mind, woman?”

  Melosia let loose with a long string of curses, fighting to get free of John’s grip. The rest of the Rumblers were now gathered around, watching this scene as though it were a prize fight. Bliss wasn’t sure how long they’d been standing there and that worried him. His observation skills needed to be sharper than this. He looked over at Joshua, who stood at the back of the pack, wide eyes blinking with fear and confusion.

  Bliss, ignoring Melosia now, went to his son and patted him on the back. “No worries, my friend. No worries. Just a little melodrama is all. You know how it can be.” He slung an arm around Meadows’s neck and turned him away from the scene. Unlike Mel, Joshua did not shake off the arm and let himself be led back to the porch, up the steps and into the house. Bliss thumped Joshua’s chest with an open hand. “It’s all good, Josh. You hungry? I think we still got some fresh meat in the living room if you are.”

  “I’m…I’m all right,” Meadows replied. He was nervous. Too nervous, Bliss thought. He seemed like a man afraid of his own shadow.

  “I’m gonna fix you right up,” Bliss told him, leading him into the living room where Sam Cotton may or may not still be breathing and bleeding.

  Much to Bliss’s surprise and chagrin, however, Sam was doing neither.

  He was gone.

  The place where he’d been was streaked with blood and gore. His beard, discarded by Walt at some point, lay on the arm of the one stuffed chair in the room, its now dry underside pink and brown, whiskers poking through where Bliss had not cut deep enough.

  Bliss dropped his arm from around Joshua’s shoulder, looking around the empty room with astonishment. A moment later he ran around the entire inside of the house, upstairs and down, even checking the basement. Where had that fucking prick crawled off to? Was he outside? Maybe under the porch, waiting to die like the old dog he was?

  He didn’t know but he intended to find out. He roared loud enough to shake the ancient, fake crystal chandelier that hung in the dining room where no one had dined in decades.

  They would find the hunter and he would be very sorry. He’d wish even more that Bliss had killed him sooner, and when Bliss finally did kill him, he’d do his best to keep him alive in order to show him each and every organ Bliss pulled out of his torso, one at a time, piece by fucking piece.

  CHAPTER 21

  Helena could stand this bed, this room, for not a second longer. She’d already insisted they take her off the morphine drip so she could regain her senses, at least to some degree. That had been a few hours ago and now she felt the fog lifting but with it came the pain, so much worse than she’d anticipated.

  But, she knew she’d have to power through it somehow. Once she managed to stand up, with the overly friendly nurse looking on, she’d made it to the bathroom and back and that feat seemed to impress the nurse enough to let her move around freely. She had no intention of staying in the hospital now. She couldn’t. Quinn was off somewhere, probably in grave danger. She suspected he was with Cash, which had to mean trouble. She didn’t trust the monster at all, even if it was true that he had ‘saved’ her.

  When she was alone in the room, she went to the cabinet and dug out the big plastic bag containing the clothing she’d been wearing when she was brought in. She dressed quickly, wishing Quinn had thought to bring her clean clothes, ones that weren’t torn and stained with blood and dirt, but no matter. She pulled on her boots, gingerly got herself into her coat and then peeked out into the hallway.

  The hospital was quiet and the hall empty. A nurse’s station was visible but from what she could tell, no one currently manned it.

  Perfect.

  She left the room, moving in the opposite direction of the station, searching for an exit. She found one at the end of the hall, passed through it and then proceeded down an empty stairwell to the ground floor and freedom.

  She did her best not to be observed too closely, turning her body away from anyone who happened to glance at her. The back of her coat was ripped but at least it wasn’t streaked with blood the way the front was. No one seemed to pay her much mind and she made it outside without incident.

  Walking was painful but she had no choice. She made it a few blocks from the hospital and then finally decided to call a cab, though she had no idea where she should go at this point. Home, she supposed. She mentally cursed Quinn for leaving her alone, without telling her where he was. She was tempted to call him back but knew that would be unwise. He was probably already in a bad situation. She knew from experience that a phone ringing or even vibrating at the wrong time could prove to be very dangerous.

  Standing in the rain for close to ten minutes, waiting for the cab, she went over in her mind where he could be. Where would she be?

  Attacking, she had no doubt. The monsters had Sam and if she knew where they were, which Quinn might, given that he was with Cash, presumably, she would be going after them, caution be damned.

  The thought of him with Cash though, terrified her. If the greaser had betrayed them, then Quinn, along with Sam, was now almost certainly already dead. Thinking about it made her feel ill but then she remembered something that helped in the tiniest way: if she could get to the home computer, she’d be able to track the GPS on Quinn’s phone. Sam’s too, but she was doubtful he even still had it on him. But Quinn did, at least until very recently.

  Searching her cell, she found someone she could call: Nick Valley. Another hunter who resided in the area. If he was in town, at least some of her problems might be resolved.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “Helena? What’s wrong?”

  She frowned, wondering if he’d already heard something about their predicament. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  “You wouldn’t be calling me otherwise.”

  True enough, she thought. It wasn’t that she had anything in particular against Nick but he and Sam had butted heads on many, many occasions, including ones which had happened before Helena had even been born. As a result, she’d heard a lot of negative things about the hunter and even though she was wise enough to know she was only hearing one side of the story-Sam’s-she also couldn’t help having her opinion of Nick colored just a bit.

  “It’s Sam,” she said. “They have him.”

  Silence from the other end of the line.

  “Can you meet me at my place?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Give me an hour.”

  “Thanks.”

  She punched the off button and slipped the phone back into her pocket. The battery was nearly depleted and she felt a small surge of relief when the cab finally pulled up.

  The ride home took less than twenty minutes, but Nick was already there, waiting in his car. When she got out of the cab and paid the driver, Nick got out and said, “You forgot to mention you weren’t home. Was just about to call you back.”

  “Sorry.”

  Together they went into the house, Nick following Helena through the front door. “You’re hurt,” he said, closing the door behind himself and throwing the deadbolt.

  “That obvious, huh?” She stripped out of her drenched coat, hung it on a rack and headed straight for the living room and the computer.

  “What happene
d?” he asked, trailing behind her. He was a big man, pushing sixty but no one would ever guess it. He stayed fit, running twelve miles a day when time allowed it and often spent hours in a gym lifting weights and, somewhat surprisingly, doing yoga. He didn’t smoke or drink, one of the more minor contentions he’d had with Sam, and did his best to eat healthy food, which included no red meat and no sweets. His iron gray hair matched the color of his eyes and was cropped close to the scalp. He wore work boots, jeans and a brown Carhartt coat over a flannel shirt. Helena knew he had an abundance of weapons hidden on his person and more in his car. The man was a monster’s worst nightmare.

  Helena proceeded to tell him everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours while she fired up the computer and searched for the location of Quinn’s phone.

  Nick looked grim throughout. “You realize Sam is probably dead, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. That’s not what this is about.”

  “Your friend Quinn is probably dead too.”

  She shook her head, eyes on the monitor. “I’m not so sure about that.” Tapping the screen, she added, “According to this, he’s on the move, coming right down I-90.”

  This gave her hope and reassured her that calling him would be safe. She got out her phone and speed dialed his number. Nick watched her expectantly, waiting for information, but the call went to Quinn’s voicemail and she immediately feared she’d made a potentially deadly mistake. The message she left was quick and to the point: “Call me.”

  When she disconnected, Nick said, “If he’s on the move, tracking him will be tough.”

  “I think he’s coming here,” she said, still watching the computer.

  “That would make sense. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “What if…” He trailed off but Helena knew what he was thinking. The thought had occurred to her as well.

  “What if he’s leading them here?” she supplied.

  He shrugged. “We should prepare for the possibility.”

  “He has the Phoenix Blade,” she said.