“Where did you come from?” Amy asked, a trembling in her voice.
Don cleared his throat a couple of times. “From a meeting with Nabo and some of the weirdest-looking people I have ever seen. Big giant of a man and a huge, muscle-bound guy. I got the feeling there were others there that I didn’t see.”
“Tiny and Samson,” Martin told him, watching as his daughter, Gary and Joyce returned. They did not seem at all interested in Don’s return. “But where were you, Don?”
“I don’t know.” Don sat up and took a sip of Coke from a cup Jeanne handed him. He told them what he could remember about his journey—and return. And about Nabo’s anger at his remark that God would not allow Nabo to send him to burn forever.
“Interesting,” Ned spoke. “Very interesting. Our prayers might have been answered in a small way. And you say it was black?”
“Real black. So black it was shiny. That’s how I could see.”
“Mayor!” came the shout. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Please,” Don muttered. “No more surprises for a few minutes–please?”
“Relax,” Martin patted his shoulder. “It’s old Doc Reynolds.”
They watched as the old man walked toward them, leaning heavily on his cane. He came around the side of the livestock pavilion.
Martin stood up and greeted the man. “How’d you get in here, Doc?”
“I walked in through the front gate. How else?”
“But the gate is closed, locked and guarded, inside and out!” Audie said.
“I noticed that when I got inside,” the old doctor told them. “But from the outside it doesn’t appear that way.”
“How? ...” Amy opened her mouth.
Doc Reynolds waved a hand, silencing her. He motioned for Martin to walk with him. They moved a few yards away from the group.
“Listen to me, Martin. None of you are in a normal situation here, so don’t try to rationalize it as such. You must realize that you’re facing the living dead, and act accordingly.”
“And they are acting on orders from the devil?”
“Probably.”
“You took a terrible chance in coming here, Doc.”
“I’m almost ninety years old, Martin. I have no fear of death. Listen to me: I have the insight. Your father has the insight. Yes, has. He is not truly dead—not yet. He’s been waiting for this. He’ll be back very soon. Brace yourself for that. The sight will not be pleasant. Now, Martin... you also have the gift. You must bring it to the fore and use it against Nabo and his people.”
“But I...” Martin wet suddenly dry lips. “The insight,” he whispered. “Last week, on main street, I thought I saw time revert back to the 1950’s. A little while ago, Audie and Nicole mentioned the people on the midway talking about events that happened years ago like it was just yesterday.” He almost said he also saw his daughter change into a demonic-looking hag. He was conscious of Doc’s eyes on him.
“Yes, Martin. I’m sorry to have to say that you are right on all counts.”
Martin realized the man could see his thoughts. He remembered the night of the party, when Joyce’s face changed into that horrible piggy-looking thing . . . and he thought of Audie, the night Hank Rinder was killed, when the deputy had seen Gary change into something not of this earth.
Martin stared at the old man.
“Yes, Martin. Right again. And again, I’m sorry about it.”
“But? . . .”
“They are what they are, Martin. They cannot change. So you must be very careful and ready for anything at all times. Do you understand?”
“What you’re saying—thinking—is monstrous!”
“I am truly sorry, Martin. But that is the way it is.” The old man sighed painfully. “Martin, when you bring your gift to the fore, it will be something you will have to live with all your remaining days. And it can be dangerous. Your mind can destroy people. Always remember that.”
The old man turned away.
“Where are you going, Doc?”
“To try to buy you some time to prepare yourself, and then to meet my old friend, your father.” He chuckled oddly. “It’s going to be quite a ride, son.”
Martin didn’t have the foggiest idea what kind of ride the old man was talking about, or even if the old man was telling the truth–but he strongly suspected the latter was all true.
Martin thought of his daughter, his best friend, and a woman he had gone all the way through school with.
The doctor read his thoughts. “Yes, Martin. Yes.”
“You’ve known for? ...”
“Since the birth of you all. I delivered you all. And no, you weren’t born with a veil over your face or anything like that. I just knew. You are all perfectly normal-appearing babies, with all your fingers and toes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before about Gary and the others?”
“I didn’t think the condition would ever surface. Your father didn’t want me to mention it to you. We talked about it the day before he was murdered. Anyway, would you have believed me?”
Martin shook his head. “I don’t know. Alicia? ...”
“Of course.”
“How can I be sure you’re telling me the truth?”
The old man smiled. “You know, Martin. You’re sure.” His words were soft and sad. “And now you have a job to do. How you do it is up to you.”
“You want me to? ...” He could not bring himself to say the words.
“Yes. There is no other way. You have no choice in the matter. If not . . .”
Martin could read the old man’s thoughts clearly. Death. Betrayal. Savagery. Torture. Acts so depraved and hideous no human nor animal would do them.
“My daughter, Gary, Joyce ... all the others I saw today from the speaker’s platform ... they’ve known since birth?”
“No. It takes someone like Nabo to bring it out. There are hundreds, thousands, of these types scattered throughout the world. Most of them, I suppose, live normal lives and when they die... go to hell, I guess. really don’t know. I don’t know if they even have a soul, Martin. So little is known about them.”
“My son?”
“Part of you.”
“Linda?”
“Just like your wife.”
“No hope?”
“None.”
“Gary?”
“Like his brothers. Only able to disguise it far better. Joyce is the devil’s own. Watch her.”
“Jesus God!”
“I hate to be sacrilegious, but if I was going to call on anybody for help, I’d add Michael to that list if I were you.”
“God’s mercenary.”
“And now, son of my old friend, so are you.” The old man turned and walked away, slowly and painfully, toward the crowded midway. Filled with evil. Walking toward his death.
“Go with God, Doc,” Martin muttered, as some of his group gathered around him.
“What was that all about?” Eddie asked.
“I’m not sure,” Martin lied, looking at Gary. “I think the old man has become very senile. Gary?” he forced himself to look at his friend.
“Oh, I quite agree. He’s been around the bend for years.”
Gary Tressalt’s handsome face had changed to a hideous mass of sores. Martin forced his expression to remain calm, as he stared at his lifelong friend.
He cut his eyes to his daughter. His beautiful Linda. She was anything but beautiful. She had changed into a dreadful-looking old hag, with rotting lips and long greenish teeth. Her face was warted and hairy and her hands were gnarled claws.
Martin looked at Joyce. She was unbearably ugly. Pig snout and long curved teeth. Just as he remembered her from the party.
Everyone else appeared to be normal. Martin felt Dick’s eyes on him. The foreman had sensed something was very, very wrong. But he was keeping his mouth closed about it for the moment.
Martin glanced at Ned. The pastor, like Dick, felt somet
hing was wrong.
Martin wished he could have spoken more with Doc Reynolds. He wished a lot of things. None of them, he knew, would ever come true. Conditions would never return to normal—not the normal he had once known. Not ever. He looked at his own half eaten lunch, still in the wrapper. He felt nauseous as he struggled to maintain his composure.
What to do?
He tried to tell himself he didn’t know. But the lie fell flat.
How to do the act?
Easy. Just reach inside his jacket, take out his gun, and kill the demons while they were still in human form.
How did he know he could do that?
He didn’t know how. He just knew.
Could he destroy them with his gift of insight? He didn’t know.
Kill them, Martin! the words boomed inside his head.
But he couldn’t do it. Not without more proof. How could Reynolds think he could destroy his own daughter? His best friend?
“What’s wrong, Dad?” his son asked. “Other than the obvious, that is?”
Do it, Martin! a voice urged him. Kill them all. It’s your only chance. Kill them! Do it now, man!
“I’m just trying to think of a way out of this jam, son.” I saw Gary kill that woman. Sure. Solidify his position with us, I suppose. Same with allowing the men to rape his daughter.
“I think the night will be better for us,” Gary finally spoke. Was that a deliberate blandness in his voice? Martin thought it was; couldn’t be sure. Couldn’t be sure of anything. “I think we should just take it easy and stay out of sight until full dark. Then maybe we can make our move.”
“Yeah, I agree with that,” Joyce said. “Let’s wait until night. Stay together.”
Martin wondered where the three of them had gone during their walk. He looked at his daughter. “How about you, baby?”
“I think Gary is right.” Gary! She had never called him Gary in her life. “I think we should just hang around here until dark.”
“All right,” Martin agreed.
“Fun! Fun! Fun!” the loudspeakers blared. “Come one, come all to the crazy house! It’s wild and crazy, folks. I guarantee it.”
Nabo’s laughter rang out over the fairgrounds.
SIX
Dick took Martin’s arm and led him to one side, away from the others. “What’s going on, Martin? That old doctor was saying things to you with his eyes ... and you were understanding them.”
The foreman recoiled as if he’d been hit with a club when Martin told him. Then he remembered his own suspicions about Gary and Linda. “Oh, no! Do you believe the old man, Martin?”
“Yes. Keep your voice down. I guess I believe him, Dick. I don’t want to. But they changed right before my eyes a moment ago. You remember they were the three who wanted us to stay here until dark.”
“Yeah. But your own daughter, man! Is there no hope for her?”
“No. None. Not according to Doc Reynolds. And, yeah... I believe him.”
“I don’t know what I’d do.”
“I’m numb. I’m doing my best not to dwell on it. But it’s all beginning to fit, Dick. It’s all coming together. My mind’s been working overtime the past few minutes. As the carnival pulled into town, rolled through, the sight of Linda’s, well... like creatures, I suppose, brother and sister demons, whatever, was too much for her to contain. She changed right in front of my eyes, not knowing I had this... insight gift. Same with Joyce. Obviously, Audie possesses some degree of it as well. We all might, for that matter. I think that’s the bond that holds us. You have it. You all saw the creatures while I was making my speech.”
“Yes. Maybe that’s it. What are you going to do, Martin?”
“I don’t know—yet. Obviously, even though I know I should, I can’t just take Doc’s word. They’ve got to make some move against me–us–before I’d feel comfortable reacting. I... I just really prefer not thinking about it.”
“I understand. Who else do you plan to tell?”
“I haven’t even thought about that.”
“You have to tell the others, Martin. You can’t endanger them by your silence.”
“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t want to tell the kids just yet. And certainly not Eddie. I’ll try to prepare him a little at a time. Even though we don’t have much time. He’s liable to go wild. No telling what he might do. To me.”
“At first. And then to his wife.”
“Yes.”
The foreman was thoughtful for a moment. “I have a question: why didn’t Gary, Joyce and Linda change with the others while you were making your speech?”
“I can’t answer that. I don’t know. Maybe they did and you just didn’t notice them. I couldn’t see them from where I was.”
“Come to think of it... could you see any of us?”
“No. You were all standing off to my left side, out of sight. Why?”
“Joyce and Gary and your daughter stood behind the main group. But I didn’t think anything strange about it at the time.”
Martin nodded his head. “Doc also said that my father would be back. I refuse to accept that. My father has been dead for years.”
“Murdered and buried in his truck somewhere out in the grasslands, so the story goes.”
“Yes.”
“That sound that Don heard? ...”
“My mind will not accept that, Dick. I’m having a hard enough time dealing with what we’re facing now.”
“I don’t think we’ve seen anything yet.”
Martin rubbed his face with his hands. “Unfortunately, Dick, I think you’re right.”
* * *
Far out in the grasslands, the starter was once more grinding, pulling juice from the old battery. It sounded very weak in the warm fall air. But this time there was nothing around to hear it. Animals had deserted the area; birds had soared far away from the site. Where the cattle had grazed, they had sensed something wrong and moved on, several miles away, not even taking time to feed as they moved.
The area was deserted. And except for the sound of the old truck starter, as silent as death; as still as the damp confines of a musty grave.
The battery sounded very weak now. Sounded as though a few more seconds of grinding and it would be as dead as the passenger in the cab of the truck had been for years. Until now.
Then the engine caught, sputtered, faded, and finally roared into life. Blue smoke began rising from out of the ground. The earth began to tremble. The engine revved up. A crack appeared in the earth’s surface. More smoke poured out of the ground as the engine and transmission strained. A spinning sound was heard as the old tires, rotted and flattened, dug into the cool inner earth. A high whining noise came from underground. The crack on the surface widened. Earth fell away from the crack and the top of the rusted cab was exposed.
The earth trembled as the nose of the truck appeared from the widening hole; the front tires—more rim than tire–rose out of the earth, exposing the chrome grill of the old truck. The man behind the wheel grinned his death-smile as the truck lurched from the hole and rattled and banged onto the flat surface of the grasslands.
What remained of the man slowly opened the door and stepped out of the cab. His flesh had been mummified to a wrinkled and deep brown. His hair and fingernails had grown during his period of death. The hair, a yellowish gray hung over his ears and down his neck. The fingernails were at least an inch long, pale against the leather-like skin. He stretched and a smile of pleasure crossed his face as his old joints cracked; mini-firecrackers on the grasslands. His smile broadened, exposing yellowed dentures.
“Aahhh!” the sound came from his slowly opening mouth, the dentures clacking together with the exclamation.
He got back behind the wheel and dropped the truck into gear, moving out slowly, lurching and bumping and rattling and banging toward the road he hoped was still there.
As his son was sitting behind the livestock pavilion, wondering what might be coming next at the group, the
long-dead father in the rusted old pickup truck, rolling along on rotting rubber and rims, slowed as he pulled onto the road and paused for a moment, getting his bearings. Yeah, Joe Carrol’s place was just a few miles up ahead. Joe Carrol was as sorry as Jim Watson and Lyle Steele. The old man laughed drily, dust and dirt flying from his mouth. He’d just stop and pay Joe a friendly visit.
Well, he mentally amended that... he’d pay him a visit. Friendly was up for grabs.
Laughing, he rattled up the road.
As the death truck smoked and banged toward the ranchhouse, Billie Watson and Joe Carrol had polished off a pint of booze and were now coming out of their clothes on the way to the bedroom. They fell on the bed in a naked tangle of hot flesh.
They both heard the rattle-bang of the old truck, but heard it dimly, the metallic clanging scarcely penetrating the heat of passion.
Joe Carrol had been with the bunch of men who had kidnapped, tortured and finally killed Martin Holland all those years back.
Those thoughts were in the old man’s dusty brain as he climbed the steps to the ranch house. The dogs that usually lay on the porch had left in a silent hurry as they sensed what manner of creature was in the cab of the truck. The hounds were a mile away and still moving as the leather-like hand closed on the doorknob and pushed the front door open.
He smiled his grim reaper smile. His skin stretching in a whispering sound, the old bones popping, he walked through the house, picking up a poker from the fireplace; then he stood unobserved for a moment in the open bedroom door.
He worked his tongue around in his dusty mouth, until he was sure the words would form and pass his lips. “Joe Carrol!” he finally croaked.
Billie turned her head and screamed in Joe’s ear.
Her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out under Joe just as Martin proceeded to beat in Joe’s head with the poker. The old man tossed the gory poker to the floor and lurched back out to his truck, rattle-banging and clattering on toward the town of Holland. He hummed tunelessly as he drove, smiling, thinking how interesting the night was going to be.
* * *
Martin glanced at his watch, wondering if the afternoon was ever going to end. He and Frenchy had walked the rest of the fence line, and Martin had told her of Doc Reynolds’ warning.
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