Strange Dominion

by Lyons, Amanda M.

  Hazel suddenly felt as if a pillow was covering her face. Her chest hitched painfully as she struggled to breathe. They had come to another clearing. This was devoid of any trees. The sun was so bright here that it blinded her. She looked for a place to hide but there was only a hollow log. Certainly not big enough for a woman. A smell began to emerge from the ground. It was the smell of dead things and sulfur. She had never smelled anything like it and hoped to never again. It was hotter here as well. The sweat that had dried on her cooling skin was running down her back in sticky beads that dripped into her ass crack.

  She fought back the urge to gag, but something else caught her attention. A warm sticky wetness that ran between her thighs. Hazel wiped at the wetness and her hand came away slick with blood. It's not possible, she thought. Her period had just ended yesterday. Why had it come back? There was no logical explanation. It had never happened before. It's the woods. That was the only thing that made sense. Why did she have to follow the men? She knew it was dangerous, but here she was. Now there was a black misty shape approaching the clearing. As it neared the men she could make out thick glimmering scales that appeared out of nothing. There was no body, just a serpent shape and eyes the color of burning embers.

  She looked for Cyrus, but he was long gone. Only she and the stranger remained. He made an attempt to run, but the spirit howled and charged for him. His scream echoed through the woods and then was cut off as his head simply disappeared. Hazel watched spellbound as blood spurted from his neck in a fountain. The stranger's body took two lurching steps and fell to the ground. She could see the blood pouring from his empty neck and the spirit swooped down and clamped its translucent jaws into the stranger’s torso. She watched, horrified, as his clothes and skin were wrenched from his body. There was more blood and a sound like branches snapping. Those are his bones! It's eating him whole!

  Hazel turned and ran. She felt branches slap painfully into her face, pricker bushes jabbed into her skin, but the fear kept the pain away. She knew that she would never forget the sounds of the spirit eating or the way the strangers skin looked as the flesh was torn away to expose bloody tissue. The coppery odor of blood filled her nostrils and she wondered for just a moment if it was her blood or the strangers that she was smelling. She saw the large boulder and ran on. What if it saw me? At this very moment she imagined the spirit slinking through the trees, blood dripping from its powerful maw. Those eyes would haunt her in her sleep.

  Why did I have to see? What was the purpose? Was she led to the clearing for a reason? She burst through the woods and back onto the Main Street. Her thoughts were like a snow globe that had been placed in the hands of a toddler. So many thoughts filtered through her mind, but at the moment she couldn't make sense of any of them. One thing that she was sure of was that evil truly did exist. She had glimpsed hell and survived. She felt between her thighs and the blood was gone. The sweat poured from her body, but the smells and even her menstruation were gone. They had been a product of that thing in the woods. Where it came from didn't matter. What mattered was that she survived. As she walked into the saloon she suddenly couldn't remember where she had been or why she was sweating. The last thing she could actually remember was leaving the saloon.

  The stranger was gone, which meant that they were once again safe. The spirit would keep protecting them. She sat at the bar for a moment before heading up to her rooms to take a bath. Hazel had never felt so dirty. Would she ever get clean? A nice cool bath was exactly what she needed. As she headed up the stairs she once again tried to remember where she had been. In her bathroom she stripped and glanced at her naked body in the mirror. Splashes of blood dotted her creamy thighs. A movement in the mirror caught her attention. A strange smoky shape that shimmered in the fading afternoon sun. Just a trick of the light. When she turned to look behind her there was nothing there. When she glanced into the mirror again she screamed.

  Through the Flames of Monaghan County

  Andrew Bell

  Gerald Thomlin wiped the sweat from the nape of his neck with a kerchief, perspiring despite the chill of the witching hour. A sky full of stars circled like vultures, and the silent tide of mist pierced the inky blackness as it entered the rusted gates of Monaghan Cemetery. He gave the dying fire a nudge with the point of his stick, watching through the rising firefly embers. Flames wrestled playfully with the shadows around him, pulling the headstones out of true; some appeared to shrink and disappear completely before-

  Don’t look at them, for Eden’s sake! Ignore the stones.

  “When the sun rises over that hill,”” whispered Tobey Evans, nodding towards the bank of moonlit fields to his right, his eyes sparkling almost as brightly as the stars above, “that’s when we get paid, get our shit together, and head out.”

  Gerald’s arms and legs were rough with goose pimples as he sat cross-legged on the parched dirt. The warmth of the small fire failed him, but he was loath to admit it to his companion. He was five years’ Tobey’s senior, and already he’d lost half of his hair. At thirty-three his damned confidence couldn’t reach any lower-

  God above and below! Your blanket’s in the saddle bag. Go get it, you big cretin. Get some sleep and leave the job to the big boys!

  Jessie and Spike were tied up just beyond the gate, and the heat from their bodies rose above the old stone walls like the mist. They had settled after an hour or so, huddling together.

  Gerald remembered the previous Sunday. Old Pastor Lynn spoke about a sea that crept up on a person unawares, and as the mist drifted towards them, he was reminded of it. How it would creep up the shore, claim whatever it wished, and return, whence it came-

  You’re thinking too much, Thomlin! Pa was right; too much of your head in them clouds. Just like your foolish dreams of escaping Monaghan-

  “They’re not foolish!”

  “You say something, Ger?”

  “Want some?” replied Gerald, holding up his leather weed pouch, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

  Tobey nodded, whistling tunelessly, as he took a paper from his pocket and rolled a cigarette. He struck a match, noticing how the other man surveyed the dancing stones surrounding them.

  “Look…graveyards are the safest places on God’s green earth,” said Tobey, drawing deeply on his smoke. “Dead can’t lift a finger or harm a gnat. It’s what’s above the soil…Say, why don’t you get some shut-eye?”

  “Can’t,” said Gerald, shaking his head. “Not after, you know, earlier.”

  After half a minute Tobey flicked the spent butt through the air and watched the glowing tobacco break apart. He sighed, nodding in agreement.

  “Understood,” he whispered.

  “Did you get a load of the way they took down half o’ the mart-”

  “I was there, remember? We both were,” snapped Tobey. “The Reeves family are gone, dead, call it what you will. It’s all we need to know, understand?”

  Gerald looked over Tobey’s shoulder.

  “Damn it, what did I tell you, you idiot?”

  Gerald quickly looked back at the fire.

  “Those graves are just four little piles of shit, all in a row,” Tobey thumbed over his shoulder. “Don’t even look at them. Just pretend they don’t even exist. keep your fuckin’ ears open for those bells.”

  “I swear, the second I hear the chimes, I’m gonna-”

  “Gonna do what?” Tobey grabbed Gerald’s shirt collar in both hands, hearing the fabric tear. “Go cryin’ like a pussy? We run, we don’t get a penny. When you cry, they throw you in the nut house. You want that, Ger? If ridin’ away after is the option, you know they’ll hunt down the crazy- we’ll never get out of this town.” He let go of the man’s shirt.

  “There was a time the room’d go silent when you spoke of ‘em, the Reeves, I mean,” said Gerald quietly, straightening his clothing. “One thing’s for sure, ol’ Monaghan can rest assured them are off the scene.”

  “I know. It’s like what Lynn was s
peakin’ the other sabbath, ‘bout the darkness not being as powerful as it used to be. It was like the Reeves were fadin’ out. You know it?”

  Gerald stared at the flames before him.

  “I know the bastards took what they wanted, when they fuckin’ wanted. But what in the deuce was so scary ‘bout ‘em anyhow?” said Tobey, clearing his throat.

  “I s’pose you’d have a one on one with ‘em, huh?”

  “Why, mister Thomlin, I do believe you’re tryin’ to be funny.”

  Gerald clapped his thighs, smiling brightly.

  “I’ve told you ‘fore, I’m not afraid of no man. I mean, look what we’re doin’, man.”

  “What’s with the bells?”

  “We hear the bells, we help the dead out of the graves. Couldn’t be simpler.”

  “You mean…”

  “Why the hell do you think this shift pays so good?” said Tobey incredulously.

  “But it’s all bull, right?”

  Tobey rolled another cigarette, lit it, and inhaled.

  “God, when’s the sun comin’ up?”

  “I knew you’d say that,” said Tobey. “Believe it or not, it’s pretty important.”

  “What is?”

  “Us. Here, doin’ this.”

  A bell chimed.

  They held their breaths a moment.

  “Just sit tight, I tell you,” hissed Tobey, as still as one of the headstones beside him, almost choking on his smoke. “It’s the wind moving the thing-”

  “What wind?”

  “I”m not going to move a damn muscle, ‘n neither are you. Just don’t look around.”

  A bell chimed.

  “It’s our job-”

  “You sit still and wait for sun up.”

  Gerald shook his head, suddenly holding his breath as he heard the sound of another bell.

  “You know what happens to those who live by the rules?” said Tobey.

  Gerald looked over the younger man’s shoulder, despite the ice cold feeling in his stomach. He shook his head. “Nope. What?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “What if someone needs help…you know, gettin’ out?”

  “Let the fuckers rot…if they’re not done, there’s only a bit of air down in those boxes anyhow-”

  A bell rings.

  Then another.

  And another.

  “Lynn knew what he was sayin’ about Bernard and the boys?”

  “He sure can tell some tall tales-”

  “You think he’s full of shit?”

  Tobey shrugged his shoulders, drawing on his cigarette.

  “Because…if he’s right about the Reeves clan, then he really did have the dream about the guy with the knife, cuttin’ up those women in…what you call it, Lonnin?-”

  “London,” said Gerald, his whole body shaking now as he stared deeply in the flames, trying not to hear the bells. “He said London. Don’t know where it is, probably don’t exist. But this guy has wings or a cape, n’ he hates the whores. Gave him a disease or somethin’ maybe, ‘n he was plenty pissed. Ripper or somethin’, old Lynn said.”

  The sound of another bell. This time it came from behind them.

  “Don’t say another word, Ger,” said Tobey, raising his voice to drown out the ringing. “I mean it, so help me. I hear it, shit, I’m not crooked. But…it’s only sound. A bell is nothin’. It’s what I think n’ so should you. Screw, Lynn. And don’t look at me that way. I ain’t blasphemin’.”

  They stood up, drawing their pistols. Gerald almost lost his balance turning on his heel to locate the source of the cacophony. But it came from all points of the compass, swirling around him like a dervish. Beyond the gates they heard Jessie and Spike whinnying.

  “Just leave ‘em,” Tobey growled, grabbing Gerald by the elbow. “They’re okay.”

  The cemetery gates creaked loudly, and suddenly the bells fell silent, as though they had been wiped from existence.

  Gerald and Tobey pointed their guns in that direction, drawing back the hammers, and watched for movement. The wind had picked up now, and the fire crackled quietly behind them. That’s when the figure appeared in the darkness, opened the gate, and slipped into the graveyard.

  “Is that who I-,” said Tobey, dropping his pistol back in his holster. “You crazy ol’ dick!”

  It was Will Stover, sixty-five if not a day, with a head full of snow white hair and a few marbles to speak of. He held himself up with a cane, and now he slowly made his way towards the dying fire like a moth.

  “Are you sleep walkin’ again, ol’ man?” said Gerald, lowering his weapon. But his smile faded when he saw the look in Tobey’s eyes.

  “How’s he goin’ answer if he’s sleepin’?” he replied, grabbing the old man’s arm and turning him back towards the gate. He frog marched him through the knee high mist. “Y’know we’re busy, you old coot. There’s nothin’ here for you, well, not for a few more years anyhow.”

  “I thought I heard the bells,” said Will, trying to look over his shoulder at the yard, but the strength of Tobey’s pincer-like hands cut into his frail arms. The air was knocked from his lungs as the younger man threw him onto the dirt road. The cane followed, narrowly missing his head. Small stones cut like glass in his lower back, and the pain struck every nerve of his body.

  “Come back in here before sun up,” said Tobey, patting the shooter in his belt for emphasis, “and I promise you you’ll never leave.” He turned back to the gate before Will had time to catch his breath. He drew the steel latch and disappeared, not seeing the wide grin on the old man’s face.

  “Anything?” said Glen Driver, handing Will a glass of whiskey.

  It was way into the night, Monaghan was sleeping, and Driver’s Lodge was closed. A few lamps burned, and in the back room, propped up against the card table, Will sipped his alcohol. There were two other elders there, smoking cigars, collars loosened. One of them, Pastor Lynn, lowered the lamp’s brightness, his headache pushing so hard he thought his eyes would fly from the sockets if he didn’t. The other was Val Hanneman, proprietor of the mart that got trashed with bullets earlier that day. They stared silently, waiting for the old man to compose himself.

  “So?” said Lynn, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. The heat of the room was stifling. “What’s goin’ on up there?”

  “I heard the bells as plain as day,” said Will, looking dolefully at his empty glass. Driver sighed as Lynn’s nod prompted him to refill it. “They think we’re all fuckin’ stupid, I tell you. I stood there at the gates and I heard them. I heard ‘em like I can hear you, Pastor. But they stopped-”

  “What, just like that?” said Hanneman, clicking his fingers.

  Will nodded before downing his drink. “The dead are playin’ their games, Val. I’m tellin’ you.”

  “But…I thought their darkness was weakening?” replied Val, looking at Lynn for answers.

  “They’re comin’ back,” said Will. “Just like you said they would, Pastor. I…I just do’ think those kids are gonna hold ‘em back-”

  “They’ll bide us some time, fellas. Remember, there’s only four of ‘em,” said Lynn, getting up from the table. He crossed to the shuttered windows and threw them open wide. “When they tear those sorry sons ‘o bitches apart, it’ll take the edge off of ‘em-”

  “Our guns just winded ‘em is all,” said Val, knocking back a shot of whiskey.

  “So what’s plan B?” uttered Driver. The three men looked at him as though he had spat on the holy cross. The room was silent for a few moments.

  “Plan B?” said Pastor Lynn, returning his attention to the horizon beyond the window. He could just make out the faint glow of the cemetery fire. “How strong is your faith, gentlemen?”

  That’s when the first shot shattered the silence.

  The dead crept from their moorings in the earth, barely breaking a blade of witch grass in their efforts to pull themselves free from the other side. Silence rung out from their
broken mouths as they arched their crooked backs to the sky. Three bodies slowly, so agonisingly slowly, left the dirt, holding out their hands, grabbing the air like the blind.

  Gerald fired his pistol, missing his target. But the next shot hit home. One of the corpses was knocked off of its feet by the velocity. There it lay.

  “Great shootin”,” said Tobey, hitting a body straight between the empty eye sockets in its skinless, time-blackened head. The crack was like thunder.

  “But, hey, Tobe, look,” said Gerald, pointing at the corpse he felled. “I must’ve missed.”

  “No…you didn’t,” he said finally, holstering his gun.

  The corpse slowly rolled over and got back up.

  “The bullets don’t work, Tobey,” said Gerald, but his friend had already made for the gates. There he froze, a gun full of metal and not one bullet could help them. The gates were obscured by at least a dozen creeping things. He didn’t know where one arm began and the other ended. The mist washed up against the rotten dresses and suits like stagnant water, their arms outstretched. There they waited, teasing them with freedom beyond, daring them to leave by that route.

  “There’s got to be another way outta here,” said Gerald, looking in all directions once more, but the yard was alive with the creeping dead. “Tobey, the walls are too high-”

  “Get off of me!”

  Tobey was already on the ground, kicking his legs out at the four creatures as they grabbed his arms and legs. It was futile. Within seconds his screams filled the air with the agony of the quartering. A fifth member of the yard bit down into his throat, blood as black as shadow burst over its emaciated face.

  Gerald screamed as a hand grabbed his ankle. He managed to kick it away before running off into the cemetery. The place seemed to go on forever as he weaved between the markers, almost falling head first down an empty grave. He didn’t want to know where its previous occupant was right now. All he wanted to do was get out of there with at least one heartbeat left inside.

  The walls of hell surrounded him. The dead moved, narrowing the distance that separated Gerald from their world. He could fire as many shots as he wanted, but they’d be pyros. He screamed when he heard Jesse and Spike’s tortured cries. And he knew that nothing was stopping the dead. Nothing.