Then Stanford capped off the effect of the photograph by placing a flat packet on the table. “Eight by tens of what remained of Dean and Donna Mansfield. As you view them, note the circled spots. Those are blobs of sand stuck in the blood.”
The doctors looked. Paled at the carnage.
Thomas asked, “If what you say is true, Inspector, why didn’t this sand”—he pointed to the circles on the blow-ups—“become alive, for want of a better word, that is?”
“And I have a question,” Mary Beth said. “If this Mantine person has returned from, ah, the grave”—she was amazed at herself for even saying it—“surely he has created other sand people over the years. What happened to them?”
Stanford nodded his approval of the questions. “Fair inquiries. Addressing the first one: I don’t know. Perhaps the sand did not absorb enough blood to function; to activate. That’s only a guess. But I can assure you all, when something of this nature occurs on the islands, we take no chances. The death cottage was destroyed by fire; very carefully burned. The ashes were taken far out to sea and dumped. In containers. We have, ah, followed this procedure several times over the years.”
He looked at Mary Beth. “To your question. Certainly Mantine has created many sand creatures. But they must have blood to survive. Human blood. It is our belief the creatures tend to stay away from groups of people. They seem to have an animal sense of survival. And I don’t know how long one of these things can survive without blood. Days, probably. We theorize they simply return to the earth after that.”
“Dormant, but still alive?” Clineman asked.
Stanford shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think without blood they die. If they didn’t, the islands would be filled with them. We also believe—again, this is only theory—that Mantine alone cannot call these creatures. He must have help. Unfortunately, I believe he has found what he’s been searching for in the devil-child. The houngans I have spoken with recently also believe this. They are both afraid and glad because Mantine has left the islands.”
A cop stuck his head into the room. “Inspector? The blood samples you requested are on the way. We’ll pick them up at the airport this evening.”
“Thank you, officer.” Willingston waited until the door had closed. “Now, as to Holland, what I am going to suggest will be met with revulsion and objections, but believe me, it is the only way to deal with the problem. As long as he remains alive, the living sand within him is growing stronger. You can’t remove it and save him. You have to accept this as fact: Holland is dead. Medically and spiritually, he is dead! And what remains is very dangerous. His shell has to be destroyed.”
Mary Beth shook her head and sighed. “I will concur; Glen Holland is dead. His brain, liver, heart, and lungs do not function.”
The others agreed. Even Slater.
Clineman then said, “I believe this hospital should, from this moment on, take only emergency cases. Unless we have reason to believe the incoming have already been contaminated—and we should brace ourselves for that eventuality—they should be transported to Tucson or Phoenix. Any scheduled surgery, unless it is emergency work, should be done away from this facility.”
The others agreed. Reluctantly.
“Glen Holland.” A doctor tossed that out.
“I shall take care of Mr. Holland,” Stanford stated. “What faith is he?”
“Catholic.”
“Then I suggest you contact a priest, immediately.”
“And pass the buck to him?” Slater asked, once more challenging the inspector.
“No. To bless Mr. Holland before he dies. To perform the last rites.”
“I thought you told us he was already dead,” Dr. Belline said.
“He’s dead physically. But I have to assume that the priest would want to pray for his soul—which the young man lost through no fault of his own. I’m not qualified to handle that part of it.”
“I’ll call Father Gomez.” Clineman looked at the others, and they nodded their heads in agreement. “He’s a young priest. Probably thirty years old. But well liked and highly educated. It’s rumored that he was trained, if that is the right word, to be an exorcist.” He shrugged. “That is only rumor, mind you.”
“Good,” Stanford said. “I hope it’s more than rumor.”
“Why?” Mary Beth asked.
“Well, that would mean the good father has some understanding of and belief in the supernatural. He’ll be an asset.”
Slater could not quite conceal his contempt for the entire proceeding. He was a good doctor, but impatient and often arrogant. He professed to be an agnostic.
“More mumbo jumbo,” he complained.
Mary Beth gave him a look that warned him she wasn’t going to take much more. “We’re all in agreement, Dick; so why don’t you just knock it off, huh?”
Mike hid a smile. He liked this lady’s style, and other things he could not help but notice.
Slater flushed and closed his mouth.
“About Glen Holland, Inspector . . . ?” Belline asked.
“When the priest gets here, he and I will chat for a time. While we do, I want a truck hitched onto that trailer and made ready for travel. Preferably far out into the desert.”
“I’ll see to that,” Mike said. “We’ll use one of the department’s trucks.”
“Fine. And bring along about twenty gallons of gasoline, Mike.”
“Right.”
The doctors stirred uneasily in their chairs, and Belline finally said, “Inspector, exactly what are you going to do?”
“The only thing you can do when dealing with something like this. Destroy it by fire.”
SEVEN
Janis waited on the couch outside the little room that housed the soft-drink and candy machines. Her dad just didn’t look good at all. Not to Janis’s way of thinking. His color was real bad and it seemed like he couldn’t get enough water.
And his shoulder—her mother had said only that they’d had a break-in—was all bruised, swollen, and red-looking.
From where Janis sat, she had a pretty good view of the corridor the hospital had closed. Roped off. She had seen Inspector Willingston go down it, and she figured he had to come back out this way.
Something big was happening in Tepehuanes; something evil, she was certain of that. And she was equally certain that it centered around her brother, Paul.
Paul. His voice had continued to deepen in tone. It even had a little echo in it now. And his eyes were just plain crazy looking. If Janis had been leery of her brother before, now she was flat-out scared of him.
And all of a sudden, right out of the blue, Paul had friends. He had never had friends before; nobody had ever wanted to be around him.
Until now.
That in itself was weird.
Those turds from over on the next block—all older than Paul—Rex Grummen and Frank Emerson and Lane Holcomb, were all hanging around the house.
Janis didn’t like the way they looked at her.
Not one bit.
And that trashy Lisa Arnot was hanging around with them. She’d been in trouble ever since she was born, practically.
Lisa was pretty, in a slutty sort of way, but she had a real bad reputation. She was mean and sneaky, and she carried a knife . . . and had used it more than once, so all the kids said.
She’d just never been caught.
Janis couldn’t figure it. All the kids now hanging out with Paul were her age or older; yet they were all taking orders from Paul, like he was some sort of little . . .
God!
Janis sipped her Coke and thought about it.
It had all happened so fast. Like overnight. In a matter of hours, the three turds and the slut had showed up, like they had been . . .
Summoned.
Of course, parents being what they are, sometimes stupid, her mother and father had no idea of their bad reputations.
They seemed happy that Paul had friends.
Janis wond
ered if, when she got old like her parents, she’d be so dumb.
She rose from the uncomfortable couch and walked back to the empty bottle rack. She and Stanford spotted each other at the same time. She jerked her thumb toward the couch, and Stanford smiled and nodded his head.
Once seated, he said, “How are you, young lady?”
“Fine, sir. I guess. Daddy’s been hurt.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. How is he?”
They were alone in the small visitors’ area.
“The doctors say he’s going to be all right. But I guess they say that about everybody, don’t they?”
Smart girl, Stanford thought. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here in Arizona?”
“I know why you’re here, sir.” Her eyes never left his face.
“Oh? Do you now?”
“Yes. My brother, Paul.”
“Perhaps. You don’t like your brother very much, do you, Janis?”
“You know I don’t, sir.”
“Now, how would I know that, young lady?”
“Because you sent those ladies to talk to me down on the beach, didn’t you?”
She smiled at him.
Stanford returned the smile, vowing that he would never underestimate the astuteness of children. He decided to take a chance. “Yes, I did, Janis. And I thank you for talking with them in spite of that.”
“That’s all right. I can’t tell my parents how I feel about Paul. They wouldn’t believe me. It was nice to have someone to talk to.”
Stanford waited. He had a few minutes before the priest was due to arrive.
“Me and my friends have agreed to spy on Paul and his new friends. Do you want us to do that? I mean, we’re going to do it anyway.”
She’s staying one step ahead of me, Stanford thought. “Paul now has friends. That’s odd. I thought he didn’t like people.”
Janis shrugged. “Three punks and one slut.”
Stanford winced inwardly at her bluntness.
“He never had friends before. And you’re right: He doesn’t like people. He doesn’t like anybody.” She looked over at the candy dispenser and then remembered she’d left her purse in her father’s room, with her mother, taking only enough change to buy a Coke.
Stanford noticed the direction her eyes were taking and he stood up, digging in his pocket for change. “Have some candy on me, Janis.” They walked to the dispenser. “Which do you prefer?”
She pointed out sour balls, and Stanford dropped the change in and punched the button. Janis popped one into her mouth and offered one to him.
He declined, politely but firmly. He’d eaten one of those things before. Only one. According to Stanford’s reckoning, one could get the same effect by sucking on a green persimmon.
“These new friends, Janis, what are their names?”
She told him, in between crunches, and he jotted down the names on a small notepad. “How are they behaving?”
“Weird.”
“Ah, could you possibly be just a bit more descriptive, Janis?”
She chomped down on another sour ball, and Stanford shuddered. “They’re all older than Paul. Bigger and tougher. But they’re all taking orders from him.”
Converts, Stanford guessed. Probably all very cruel youngsters, born bad, and easily led by someone of higher intelligence.
Especially if that someone had help from the darker side of the veil.
“Janis, I want you and your friends to be very careful. Don’t get caught alone by any of your brother’s new friends. That might prove to be very dangerous.”
“I already figured that out. But it’s gonna be kind of hard for me. I live there, remember?”
“Quite. Does your bedroom door have a secure lock on it?”
She shrugged. “It has a lock. I’ll head for my room if I have to.”
“How old are these kids?”
“One boy is twelve. Big for his age—mean. The other two are thirteen. Lisa is fourteen. And I think she and Paul are . . . well, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” It all fits quite neatly, he thought. He had seen the pattern develop before. “Are there drugs involved?”
“I’m sure of it. But Paul wouldn’t take any himself.”
“But . . . ?” Stanford pressed.
“Oh, if he thought they’d help, he’d give them to others, if he had them.”
He has them, Stanford decided. Mantine would see to that. “I’m at the Country Inn, Janis. Room 144. Don’t hesitate to call me if you get in trouble. If I don’t answer, call the police station. They’ll know where to find me. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I want you to be careful, you and your friends. At first, I’d intended to ask you to do a bit of cloak and dagger work for me. I have since rejected that idea. It could be too dangerous for you.”
Just try and stop me! Janis thought.
“You might get hurt, or worse. Do you understand, Janis?”
“Oh, yes, sir. We won’t try to follow Paul or any of the others.”
Sure you won’t! Stanford had raised two children. And even though his kids had grown up and moved away, one to New Zealand and the other to England, he hadn’t forgotten that kids love excitement, and dying is unreal to healthy children.
“I mean it, Janis.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. I know you are a child that minds her elders.”
She didn’t meet his eyes on that one. Just crunched another sour ball.
“Is there anything else about Paul that appears to be different?”
“His voice. It’s real deep now, and hollow sounding. It’s scary.”
It should be. It’s coming from the other side of the grave.
“Why has it changed so?” she asked.
Stanford did not know what to tell her. As far as he knew, at least on the islands, Mantine had always failed in his efforts to enlist children. Why that was so, Stanford had no idea, and he was at a loss to explain what had happened to Paul.
How does one tell a child that her brother is a child of the devil?
“His voice,” Janis pressed. “Why has it deepened and become so hollow sounding?”
“He’s just growing up, Janis.” Stanford felt like a traitor for saying that. The girl was in grave danger; but he did not know how to tell her that.
He felt her eyes on him, and was uncomfortable under her gaze.
He cut his eyes from her, and she smiled.
“No, sir. He’s not just growing up. He’s growing evil.”
* * *
Deputy Peter Loneman caught up with Mike at the hospital. He was introduced to Leo and Stanford.
“What’d you find out, Pete?”
“Not much, I’m sorry to say. The old men said what the gods bring forth, the gods destroy. That’s an Indian way of saying they don’t know what’s going on.”
The others smiled at the expression on the deputy’s face.
“Or,” Pete continued, “they’re telling me, in double-talk, that this is a white man’s problem, and who gives a damn what happens to the white man? Personally, I think it’s a combination of both.”
“They didn’t seem at all concerned?” Stanford asked.
“No. There’s something else you’ve all got to understand, and I hope you won’t take it the wrong way. When trouble faces an Indian, he’s going to deal with it like an Indian, not like a white man. We are all—every Indian is—a lot closer to the earth and the elements than ninety-nine percent of the whites. Your ancestors were once like us, but that was lost, for you, hundreds of years back. Not so for us. We are still basically a warrior race. We haven’t, and we never will, fully embrace the white man’s ways.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m saying this right.”
“Yes, you are, Peter,” Leo told him with a smile. “Mantine—”
“Who?” Pete interrupted.
Mike quickly brought him up to date.
The deputy looked at
Leo. “OK. Go ahead, please. Mantine ... what?”
“Mantine must know that he is taking a terrible chance, a risk, in leaving the islands and coming here. It’s not clear to me why he did it. Maybe we’ll never know. But I think what you’re saying is that when he makes his move, he’ll be making it against a people who are soft and settled and unaccustomed to facing and handling any serious problem alone and without the aid of laws and lawmen. Am I getting close?”
“Very close,” Peter told him.
“And maybe,” Leo continued, “that might be the way to defeat this . . . thing.” He looked at Stanford. “Do you understand what I’m getting at?”
“To a degree, yes. But in dealing with the supernatural, don’t get complacent about anything; overconfidence can get you killed.” He caught a glimpse of the young priest walking up the corridor. “That must be Father Gomez.”
Peter looked. “Yeah. That’s him. He’s a nice guy. But he’s tough as a boot; don’t ever doubt that. He was a street punk until he was about fifteen or so. His parish priest finally got enough of his lip and took him out behind the rectory. Then he proceeded to knock some sense into him. Turned Dan right around. He became a straight-A student, went off to college, and became a priest. He’s, ah, well, it’s rumored that he’s the man you want if you’re dealing with the Devil, face to face.”
“We are,” Stanford said grimly. “Come on. I have something very unpleasant to attend to.”
Peter looked at the expression on the inspector’s face. “What?”
“I have to kill a living dead man.”
* * *
Stanford spoke to the priest for fifteen minutes, practically nonstop, with Mike and Pete and Leo and the medical personnel involved listening.
Father Gomez’s expression did not change during that time.
When Stanford had finished, the priest sat for a moment in silence. Then he shocked everybody present by saying, “So Mantine finally thinks he’s strong enough to leave the islands, huh?”
“My word, Father!” Stanford finally said.
The others just stared at the priest, none of them having expected Gomez to know who Stanford was talking about.
“Is there any truth to the rumor that you are an exorcist?” Slater asked.
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