Sons of Dust

by P. Dalton Updyke

  Teddy laughed. “That’s right, partner. Colder than a witch’s tit. And everyone thinks Hell is so warm, too.”

  The smell reached Marcus; a syrupy rotting scent like dumpsters in the summer. Ripe, and foul, seasoned with decay. And Marcus knew what that smell was. Sure he did. It was Teddy who was ripe for the picking, his little buddy Teddy—

  Marcus’s vision grayed, swirled and he thought I’m passing out, and when I wake up this will all be over.

  “I thought the same thing, Marc, old pal. That was the best part about being like your ‘lil brother. We thought alike. And when I was about to be killed – thanks to you and your shitheel friends – I thought ‘oh good, I’m going to faint and when I wake up it’ll all have been a dream.’ Only problem is, this isn’t a dream and you aren’t going to wake up.”

  The hand on the back of Marcus’s neck was moving, traveling up to Marcus’s throat. The feel of the boy’s bony fingers jerked Marcus out of the awful gray fog that was threatening to overtake him.

  He grabbed the hand, twisting it as hard as he could, feeling the bones, brittle like a bird’s, break under his grasp. Jesus, Teddy, I’m sorry…the thought was a moan, deep in his mind. He choked it off because it wasn’t Teddy in the car with him. It wasn’t Teddy’s bones snapping… it wasn’t Teddy’s tendons tearing, and yes, Marcus could hear that, a wet ripping noise that made the gray fog swirl again. Teddy lifted his other arm and Marcus had time to see that the other limb ended in a bloody stump above the elbow.

  “Can you give me a hand?” the thing said. It grinned, muscles twitching under the ruined face. “I seem to have lost mine.” It cackled again and waved the stump. Droplets of blood, black and thick, splattered the windshield. “Not to worry though,” it went on. “Since I’ve been dead I’ve learned a couple of things. Number one: your body parts remember you. Cool, huh? My mom always said my hands had a mind of their own. Who knew that numb cunt could be right? Number two: Hell isn’t so bad if you get in with the right crowd. Number three:--”

  Not Teddy, not Teddy not Teddy.

  Marcus’s foot slammed down on the gas pedal. There was no conscious thought of action, just a need to move. He twisted the steering wheel with his right hand while his left held onto the bleeding and broken hand that used to belong to his little friend.

  “Number three,” it went on, as if it didn’t notice or care that the car was flying out of control. “Bo looks pretty damn good dead. And by the way, she’s having a hell of a good time.” It cackled again, blood dribbling from the corners of its mouth.

  The car jumped the curb, tires squealing. The rain came down in droves, so heavy it looked like thick gauze and Marcus had time to think we’re going to hit a building, we’re going to slam into brick when the car did just that.

  And all the while, Marcus was screaming, screeching at the thing in the backseat. “You aren’t Teddy! You son of a bitch, you aren’t TEDDY!”

  The thing in the car laughed again.

  “Teddy wouldn’t know about hell! He wouldn’t know if it was hot or cold or if they served roast beef sandwiches with French fries on the side. Teddy is a GOOD boy and he’d go to heaven, you son of a bitch! STOP PRETENDING TO BE TEDDY! STOP PRETENDING TO BE SOMETHING GOOD!”

  Lightning split the blackness and Marcus heard a woman’s voice in his head and then her words were coming out of his mouth. “And the evil creature was captured and with him the False Prophet who could do miracles when the Evil Creature was present, miracles that deceived all…”

  The thing roared and lunged over the front seat and Marcus screamed, from some dim corner of his subconscious he realized that the voice he was hearing in his head was the old nun who used to teach at St. Stand’s, the nun with the high cheekbones and cold blue eyes. It was her words coming from him with a strength Marcus didn’t feel. “Both of them, the Evil Creature and the False Prophet, were thrown alive into the Lake of Fire that burns with sulfur.”

  Cold, cold air blew through the car and Marcus twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder. The thing pretending to be Teddy was gone. Marcus lowered his face into his hands and when the shaking stopped, he opened the door and climbed out of the car.

  Chapter 35

  Vinny

  Gina was hurt, Vinny knew the second he picked her up. She held her leg out, awkwardly, stiff at the knee. She moaned, clinging to him as he carried her to the couch. She was shivering, her teeth chattering together with a click click click sound that could drive a man out of his head. He put her down gently, but she still cried out as she touched the cushions. Still carrying the book with him, Vinny made his way through the dark parlor with a sliding step, reaching out with his free hand for the fireplace mantle. There were candles there. He’d noticed them before, when the others were all replaying ancient history. His hand hit something solid. Groping upward, he touched the solid wood of the mantle then slid his hand along its surface until he felt the candle base.

  He reached into his pocket for the lighter, thankful for once that he smoked. The candle lit, he held it up and made his way back to the couch. He stopped halfway there.

  Gina wasn’t just hurt. She was a mess.

  Her sweater was dark with blood. Her hand, lying limply in her lap, looked as though it had been through that old silver meat grinder his mother used to use when she made sausages. Gina’s foot jutted out an unnatural angle. Her jeans were covered with blood, too, and Vinny thought how much blood did she lose? Holy mother of God. What happened to her and HOW MUCH BLOOD DID SHE LOSE?? And then he was across the room, on the floor beside her, the book next to him. He held one of her hands, while the other stayed on the book’s cover. He didn’t know why he had to touch it. He just knew that he did.

  “Gina, what the fuck happened?”

  Gina was crying, harsh sobs that tore from her throat and it took a minute for Vinny to realize that the sobs were words.

  “Rats?” he repeated, his eyes probing her face.

  Even in the scant candlelight, he could make out the fear and agony. “Hundreds,” she whispered. “Maybe thousands.”

  And then she was crying again as Vinny stood up and leaned over the couch to open the curtains of the bay window. He couldn’t make out much at first; there was a fire burning in the Forest Field, but it was no more than a weak blaze. The rain pouring from the sky had all but put it out.

  “Honey,” he said softly. “There’s nothing out there. No rats. They’re gone.”

  Mascara ringed her eyes in black. “Are you sure?”

  He lifted her good hand to his lips. “Positive. You’re safe now.”

  But instead of offering her comfort, his words seemed to upset her more. She sobbed so hard she doubled over and Vinny forgot about the book. He put his arms around her, hugging her as fiercely as he dared, mindful of her ankle and mangled hand. Finally, her weeping eased and she pulled away from him. “Honey, we have to get you to the hospital,” he said gently. “I’m going to call 911.”

  “No!” she said. “NO!”

  Pain etched the lines of her face. “I know you want to stay here and help, but Gina, you can’t. You’re hurt. Bad.”

  Gina sat forward and grabbed his hand with her good one. Her nails dug in painfully. “I don’t care what you say, Vincent Michael Polowski, I am not going to a hospital! I look worse than I a . Once I get cleaned up and put a couple of bandages on, I’ll be okay.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said, “There isn’t a band aid on God’s green earth that’s going to fix that ankle.”

  “I am not going to the hospital. Kate and I are both nurses. We can handle this for now.”

  “But--”

  She silenced him with a look and then said, “Don’t you know what will happen if we split up, Vinny?” She was crying again, but quietly. “We can’t be apart now, any of us. If we’re to have any chance at all of beating Lucien, we have to do it together. Can’t you feel that? In your heart?”

  God help him, he did. He nodded, once, t
hen looked at their linked hands. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Gina.”

  “Then don’t think,” she said. “Just feel. Just trust yourself enough to feel that staying together, all of us now, tonight, is the right thing. It’s the only thing. Tomorrow, Vinny, I’ll go to the hospital. I will. But for tonight, I have to stay here.” And then she said something Vinny knew he’d never forget. “It’s safer.”

  “Safer?” he asked, incredulous. “What are you talking about?? How could it be safer?”

  She looked at him calmly, tears drying on her cheeks. He could tell by her expression that Gina knew the battle was won. She would stay. They all would. “We’re safer together. When we’re all together there’s some kind of…bond. I don’t know what you’d call it; love, friendship, faith, but whatever label you put on it, it comes down to one thing: power. We’re powerful together, Vinny. If we break apart now, the power is gone. Lucien will win. He’ll beat us one by one.”

  Vinny knew she was right. “How can you get through this? How powerful do you think you’re going to be, with a busted ankle and broken hand?”

  She smiled at him then with such a look of tenderness and love that Vinny thought for sure he’d weep. “I have you to help me.”

  **

  Kate was the first one back. She came through the front door, a gust of wind billowing her coat out to the sides, her hair hanging around her face in wet strings. Slamming the door behind her, she turned to face Vinny in the hallway and even before she spoke a word, Vinny knew something had happened.

  “Did you see him?” he asked.

  Kate’s eyes grew wide; whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips. She glanced to the left, at Gina on the couch. When she looked back at Vinny, her eyes were wide with horror and she was pale beyond white. Vinny wouldn’t have thought such a thing possible. “Lucien?” she asked.

  “In a manner of speaking, yeah.”

  Without another word, Kate went into the living room and took Gina into her arms, not heeding the wet coat or dripping hair. They held each other for what seemed like a long time and then Vinny said, “Listen, kid, you’re soaking the rug. Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes while I make some coffee?”

  Kate sat back and seemed aware of the cold, sopping clothes for the first time. She peeled her coat off and handed it to Vinny. “First we have to take care of Gina.” Her eyes met Vinny’s, locked there and the look said it all. Kate wasn’t going to fight for Gina to go to the hospital, she wasn’t going to argue medical care. She understood. “There used to be a medical bag downstairs,” she said. “In my father’s lab. It’s dark blue leather, a big bag.”

  At the word ‘lab’ Vinny’s throat closed and his scalp crawled.

  “I need supplies, Vinny. What I need could be in that bag.”

  “You want me to go get it?” The words came out of his mouth better than he would have guessed, considering his mouth was numb.

  Kate nodded and turned back to Gina. She pushed her sleeves up and then said in the voice of her mother, “This is going to hurt, Gina…”

  Vinny turned and left.

  He stood at the top of the basement stairs for what seemed like an hour, sweat beading on his face, his pulse banging like a drum in his temple. Come on, he told himself. Nothing down there now. Nothing down there but some old equipment and a couple of empty rooms. Nothing down there but—

  the dark and the dead and the dead and the dark

  Gina cried out and the sound of her pain got Vinny moving. He was down the stairs before he had a chance to think, before he could stop his feet from thudding down the steps. He thrust the candle out in front of him and the cavernous room was lit with flickering shadows.

  “Okay God,” he said out loud. “A little help now.”

  Wetting his lips, Vinny forced himself not to run. He walked slowly, carefully, taking deep, regular breaths. He forced himself to think about the bag, the blue leather bag Kate needed for Gina.

  The smell was stronger this time.

  Shit and puke and rotting dead. Vinny almost dropped the candle and that would have been just great, wouldn’t it? Just freaking terrific, a fire down here with Gina and Kate right upstairs.

  “Steady, you freaking moron,” he hissed. “Come on Vincent. Don’t be a klutz.”

  The candle steadied. The door to the lab was open, a denser rectangle of black. With every step, Vinny was sure the dead woman was going to burst forth from that dark square of blackness, but nothing happened. Nothing moved. He licked his lips again, his shirt sticking to his skin like he’d been in a fight or something. What would Katie think if he went upstairs with soaked with sweat? She’d think he was a coward, a Goddamn—

  The lab was empty.

  Vinny let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and his shoulders sagged.

  He found the leather bag almost at once and said a brief prayer as his fingers grabbed hold of the handle. The bag was heavy, a good sign. It meant something was in there, anyway. He crossed the lab, started up the stairs, relief making every muscle in his body feel loose and jittery, but Lord the bag was heavy. What weighed so much?

  “Bones,” a voice said from behind him.

  Vinny let out a yell of surprise and almost dropped the bag.

  “It’s a bag of bones, buddy, and just try to say that three times fast Vincenzio., Bag of bones buddy bag of bones buddy bag of bones.”

  What saved him was that he didn’t look. At least, that’s what Vinny thought as he took the stairs three at a time. He reached the landing and slammed the door shut with all his might, rattling it at its hinges. He could still hear the voice, high with a glee that was almost childlike, Bag of BONES buddy, BAG of bones BUDDY.

  “Vinny?” Kate said behind him. “Are you all right?”

  Wordlessly, he held out the bag and Kate took it from hm. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it briefly before going back into the parlor. She hadn’t heard it, then. She hadn’t heard the laughter or the taunt. Vinny pressed his forehead against the wooden door, willing his heart back into its natural rhythm, willing his breath to come in slow, shallow breaths, not the panting he was doing now.

  Part of him, most of him, expected the cellar door to burst open and Hell to be standing on the other side. And if that happened, he’d fight as hard as he could to keep Lucien away from Gina and Katie. But the door didn’t fling back to reveal the humped creature he’d seen only in shadow. Finally, Vinny pushed away from the door. Why didn’t Lucien come up? Why didn’t he burst free?

  Because, a tiny voice answered him, You didn’t invite him in. The voice was Bo’s.

  “Yeah,” he said shakily. “Yeah.”

  At that moment, the lights came back on.

  Gina’s clothes had been changed. Her red sweater and stained jeans were gone. She was dressed in a man’s flannel shirt three sizes too large and a pair of gray sweat pants. Her ankle had been splinted and bandaged, elevated by pillows. Her hand was bandaged, too, draped over her chest. From where he stood, Vinny thought she was sleeping.

  “I gave her Percocet.” Kate said. “She’ll be able to sleep for a while.”

  “How bad?”

  “Her ankle’s bad, but her hand will be okay. I stitched up the wounds--”

  “You did what??”

  “I’m a nurse, Vinny. I know how to stitch a wound. I’m worried about rabies, though, and her ankle is going to need surgery.”

  “Shouldn’t she be in a hospital?”

  Kate offered up a twisted smile. “Of course she should.” She didn’t say anything else. Vinny guessed maybe she didn’t need to. She’d changed, too. She was dressed now in jeans and a fisherman’s knit sweater. Her hair was still wet, but she’d pulled it back from her face in a loose bun.

  Kate was watching his face and her expression softened. “I know you saw something terrible, Vinny. I did, too, but we should wait until everyone is back. Share the stories when the whole gang is together, right?”<
br />
  Vinny realized how tired he was. “Yeah,” he said. “No sense repeating the horror six times, right?”

  Kate took his arm and led him to a chair. She’d opened a bottle of wine and put out wine glasses along with cheese. Vinny was just reaching for a glass when the front door opened and Marcus came in. The moment he came through the door, Vinny blurted, “Jesus, man! What the fuck happened to you?”

  Marcus looked ill. Worse than ill. His face was white, dark circles ringed his eyes, he’d aged twenty years in a few hours and as he hung up his coat, Vinny saw that his hands were trembling. “Lucien,” Marcus started. He swallowed, like he had something caught in his throat and then he began again. “Lucien killed Teddy, Vinny. He killed Teddy August.”

  “Oh no,” Vinny whispered. “No.”

  “Marcus?” Kate asked. Where Marcus had aged, Kate looked younger, more vulnerable. “I didn’t hear your car.”

  “I walked,” Marcus said abruptly. “I left my car down the block.”

  Gina sat up as Kate crossed the room and went to Marcus’s side. Kate touched the side of his face, a gesture that instantly reminded Vinny of Kate’s mom. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Marcus?”

  Marcus closed his eyes and Vinny was glad. The man was a walking sack of grief. Pain was painted in the purple smudges under his eyes, the charcoal lines of his face. Vinny wasn’t sure how long Marcus could hang on and the thought scared him. They needed Marcus. They needed all of them.

  “You’re going to be okay, buddy,” Vinny said. “Just keep it together.”

  “I didn’t want to come back,” Marcus said tonelessly. “I thought about just going home and getting out of this. I can’t do anything anyway, so why not just cut and run? You know? Just…”

  “Get out of it and away from Lucien,” Gina said. “Marcus, we’ve all felt that.”

  Marcus opened his eyes and the raw pain in them knocked the air out of Vinny. “But I was really going to do it and then…” his voice faltered and he swallowed. “And then he killed Teddy. He used Teddy to get to me. To…goad me.”