by Dan Glover
Jesus... Danners was right. Either there'd been a recent epidemic over the last year or so or a lot of extra people were being buried here. Half the graves he walked across were soft, as if freshly dug. The gal weighed more than he thought or else he was completely out of shape. Probably a mixture of both. By the time he reached the stone wall he could scarcely catch his breath and his heart was a jackhammer. Christ... old Reilly might have to dig two holes tonight... one for Elena and one for him.
2
Where the hell was the kid? It couldn’t be that hard to find the caretaker's shack. But then again it was a dark motherfucker out here. What if someone had caught Reilly inside the cemetery? That light on at the church bothered him. Could be they were guarding the place, especially after Danners Forthright's little escapade here the other night.
"Hank? Where are you?"
"Over here, Reilly... did you find a shovel?"
"No... but I found something better. I was looking for the caretaker's shack when I came across a crypt. The door's open. What if we put Elena inside there?"
"Sounds like a plan to me. Take hold of her shoulders while I grab her feet."
"Don't you think it's sort of weird that they'd leave a crypt unlocked like that?"
"Maybe there's a vampire inside, Reilly, and they don't want to cramp his style by locking him up."
"That's not funny, Hank. This place gives me the creeps."
"Yeah, well you're not alone, Reilly. Come on... the sooner we do this thing the quicker we can get the hell out of here."
God, he was sweating. Just a few minutes ago it actually seemed chilly. He'd peel off his outer shirt but it was Johnny Cash black and the white tee beneath'd be a dead giveaway. Dead. Yeah. Maybe once they got to the crypt he could take it off and cool down a bit. Now was not the time.
Why did all the trees in cemeteries have to be like bones? Maybe that was a prerequisite for being a tree in a cemetery. It had to be dead. But hell... the damned thing must've been alive once to grow. Maybe the motherfuckers weren’t really dead. It was nearly winter, after all. Perhaps the leaves had fallen from the trees making them look dead.
What would Bernie think if she saw him and her boy carrying a body through the tombstones? And why was he thinking about her so much lately? That wasn’t good. Be best to make a clean break of things after this little vacation. Sure, he'd like to see her again once they got back to Los Angeles but somehow that didn’t seem like the best idea he'd ever had.
Who the hell was that? Someone else was in the cemetery, or else the goddamned dead were up and walking around tonight. And the fucking mist coming up out of the ground didn’t help matters one bit. The whole scene seemed just a little too much like the set of a Rob Zombie movie only they were trapped inside that fucker. At long last the crypt materialized in front of them.
"Set her down, Hank, while I open the door."
"Did you see those other people, Reilly?"
"No, man... I didn’t. Why... did you see someone?"
"I'm not sure... maybe... I guess not though. Probably just seeing things. Come on, let's get her inside."
3
"You gotta light, Hank?"
"Yeah... I always carry a flashlight... surprised you don't what with being Bureau and all... here, take it... but wait till we get the door closed before you turn it on."
"Don't slam that bitch... it might latch on us and we'll be trapped in here."
"Don't worry, pussy boy... Hank is here. Ain't no door been made bad enough to stop him."
"I told you I ain't no boy."
"Come on, Reilly... let's see if we can get the lid off this coffin. That'd be a perfect spot for Elena."
"We should've brought along a pry bar. This fucker is pretty solid."
"I got my end to move a little. Work it, Reilly. It's coming."
"Jesus Lord God... what a stench. This poor old motherfucker ain't been embalmed from the smell of him."
"Hey... this is Mexico, son. They do things different down here. Stab 'em and slab 'em... that's how they roll."
"Reckon we ought to say a few words?"
"That's up to you, Reilly. I just want to get the fuck out of here."
"Lord, look after this girl. She wasn’t the best but she weren’t the worst. Amen."
"Nice... remind me to have you do my eulogy, Reilly."
"I got a feeling they're going to be writing both our obituaries if we don’t get going, Hank. Let's skedaddle on out of here."
"Shut off that light first. If anyone's out there they'll see us sure."
"Goddamn... I can't see a fucking thing."
"It's okay. I got the door. Just follow me."
The night breeze never felt so fresh. They'd been lucky. Saved themselves from having to dig a grave. It bothered him a bit that the door to the crypt was open like that. Didn’t kids come to cemeteries and play? He sure did when he was little. An open crypt? Boy howdy! He'd of been all over that shit.
"Hey... there's a padlock on the ground, Reilly. I just stepped on it. Give me just a little light. Looks new."
"Use it to lock the door, Hank. Maybe whoever was here last forgot."
"Good idea. Shhh... I hear something."
"There's someone over there, Hank."
"Probably just the wind."
"No, really... I hear someone walking toward us. Listen."
He was right. Sounded like two people walking... could be that old bastard of a priest and his sidekick Tonto. Odds were they had firearms with them, or at least a big set of knives. Dammit. Why did it have to be so dark? Of course that worked to their advantage too.
"Let's circle around, Reilly. I doubt they've see us. Keep down."
4
"I think it's Liza... take a whiff... smell her perfume?"
The kid was right. Joy. She always wore it. Just a dab behind her right ear. He'd noticed her applying it when they worked together. Some women went overboard with that shit... ended up smelling like French missionaries. Not McNairy. With her, subtlety won the day.
"She must've come back."
"Or else she never left, Hank... maybe they really did kidnap her like Danners thought."
"So what're you saying... that there's a bunch of those holier than thou motherfuckers out here tonight and they're taking Liza to a shindig?"
"No... I don’t think so. That many people'd make more noise. No... there's only one or two of them. Danners? Is that you?"
"Shhh... shut the fuck up, Reilly. What's wrong with you?"
"It's okay, Hank... it's us... Liza is with me. What're you two doing creeping around this cemetery in the middle of the night?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing. Liza! Good to see you girl! Where you been hiding?"
"Those creeps broke into our cabin, kidnapped me, and locked me inside a crypt. Danners rescued me, otherwise I'd still be in there."
"Jesus... is that why you're here? Did you just get out?"
"No... yeah... a little while ago. I wanted to go home but Danners talked me into coming back. We need to finish things."
"What do you mean by that?"
"These maniacs are killing children, Hank. This graveyard is full of them."
"Isn't that a job for the authorities, Danners?"
"No one would believe us."
"But wouldn’t they find the bodies? Christ, I walked over some of those graves myself. I can tell they've been freshly dug."
"Even if they did, Fletch would just say that their parents were too poor to afford real funerals so they surreptitiously doubled and tripled them up in graves without his knowing. The man has connections. He'd just walk. We need your help, Hank. Yours too, Reilly."
"What can we do?"
"Act as reinforcements. We're going to confront this maniac Fletch and his so-called Gathering."
"Count us in... right, Reilly?"
"Sure thing, Liza... but tell me something. How did you know we were here?"
"Elena told Danners you two were ou
t here... right, DanMan?"
"Yes she did."
"When was that?"
"Just now... a few minutes ago. I saw her back by that old stone wall. She said you two were over here by the crypt and you might need us."
"Did you see her too, Liza?"
"I was taking a tinkle if you must know."
"You couldn’t have seen Elena, Danners. That's impossible."
"Shut up, Reilly."
"What is it, Hank? Why is that impossible, Reilly?"
5
"We have to tell them, Hank. Elena is dead. She died earlier tonight of a heroin overdose. Probably three hours ago. That's why we're here."
"I told you to shut the fuck up, Reilly. Some things are better left unsaid."
"Let him talk, Hank. What does Elena dying have to do with you being in this cemetery?"
"Now's not the time, Liza. Just suffice it to say Danners couldn’t have seen Elena."
"Come on, Reilly. Quit screwing around. I saw her not five minutes ago."
"Liza... tell Danners that he's been eating too many magic mushrooms. What was she wearing, Danners?"
"That was the odd part. She had on a sort of chiffon gown... gauzy white. Hell, she reminded me of a character out of one of those old vampire movies... you know the sort, Reilly... one of those old black and whites from the 40s or 50s."
"We must've put her into that crypt while she was still alive, Hank."
"That girl was so dead she was going stiff, son. There ain't no fucking way she's up and walking around now. Besides, we locked the place up tight."
"What's he saying, Hank? Did you two bring her body down here and stick her into that crypt?"
"Yeah, Liza... we did. What the hell else were we going to do?"
"We need to go back to that crypt, Hank."
"For what, Reilly? I'm telling you she's dead."
"Let's just make sure. It'll only take a few minutes."
"Well, come on then... you two tagging along or is it just me and pussy boy?"
"Dammit, Hank... I keep telling you..."
"I know... I know... you ain't no boy. Shut the fuck up and let's do this."
The kid was obviously mentally deficient. How the hell did he manage to pass the exam for the Bureau? They must've given him points for being black. Either that or the bar was set so low any dickwad could apply and be accepted. Made sense in a weird sort of way... he'd seen some of those Bureau boys in action. No mistaking them for Einstein.
The sun'd be up soon. But when he glanced at his watch it was only a little past four. Jesus, it seemed as if they'd spent a week here wandering around this fucking corpse nest. And now they were going on a full fledged vampire hunt. What would they do if they did find Elena up and walking around? Drive a stake through her heart and cut off her head? Or maybe they could stuff her mouth full of garlic. Wasn’t that supposed to work?
"Shhh... be quiet a second. I hear something."
"Liza's right... I hear it too."
"What the fuck is that, Danners?"
"Sound like chanting, Hank. It's coming from the church. They're having one of their gatherings."
The queer was right. No wonder the light was on inside. They must be having some sort of midnight mass. Only it was way past midnight and he highly doubted the mass being said inside that church had anything to do with the Lord, Jesus Christ, or even the Holy fucking Ghost. No... these motherfuckers were worshipping something a whole lot darker.
6
"I was born in Louisiana. I'm one of those Creole girls you heard so much about."
"Honestly, Bernie... I've never known a Creole, girl or otherwise. What's that all about?"
"Why Mr. Lupo... I swear you are one sheltered child... lay on back and let me tell you all about us then..."
They spent most all their time together in bed. Hank couldn’t remember ever being with a woman like Bernie Cooper, even when he was a randy teenager trying to screw anything that had tits.
"Us Creoles are a mixture of all sorts of folk... blacks, whites, Indians, Spanish, and even those pesky French got into the act. We were isolated down there on the bayou. Most times once someone showed up, they were stuck there. Maybe it was because they liked it, but maybe not."
"What's that supposed to mean, Bernie?"
"See... all those folk from different backgrounds mixing together made for some interesting religious practices. They took a little bit of Africa, stirred in some Catholicism, added a dash of voodoo and faith healing, shook it all up, and when they poured it out, something darker than our skin emerged."
"What, like devil worship? Is that what you're talking about?"
"Maybe I am. Of course most people—most civilized people—don’t go in for that nonsense. But let me tell you, Hank baby... down there on the bayou when that big ol' yellow moon is rising up over the swamps and those frogs are a hollering and those mosquitoes are swarming like bats and all that moss is hangin' like beards from those magnolia trees... well, it ain't hard to believe in that shit.
"I noticed it here, right off. These people are hainted, just like those back in the bayou. This whole area is hainted. Can't you feel it too? Look around. You can see it in their eyes... in the way they walk and talk. Oh sure, they've learned to cover it up, just like we did back there in Louisiana. Got our share of tourists there too, especially during Marti Gras. If you look close, Mr. Lupo, you'll see what I mean."
"All I see is a lot of poor ass people, Bernie."
"Well yeah... them's ripe pickings for the dark one. You ain't never seen poor until you been down there on the bayou, let me tell you that. I lived there fifteen years and never knew a soul who held a job. Same way here. Oh sure, they got all them fancy resorts on the beach, but you know who's working cleaning them rooms? Some dirt poor woman who can't afford to buy toothpaste and a toothbrush, much less think about ever spending the night in one of them fine palaces.
"Now... take some preacher from up north and transport his conniving ass down here and set him loose amongst these folk and look out. Won't be long before some sort of cult springs up. See, a preacher has to take a lot of schooling, least ways in America. A man like that learns all sorts of tricks to convert common dirt over to his way of thinking. Of course he's gonna call it the Lord's way. But make no mistake... that there is one dangerous fella."
7
"Devil worshipers... is that what you're saying, Danners?"
"Maybe... only twisted into something else. Reilly did some digging on the good Father Fletch who ministers this church. Seems he's involved with an old sect that goes all the way back to the first century. The man claims to be an exorcist. We're sort of figuring if he can't cure 'em, he kills 'em. And the problem is increasing exponentially. That's why there are so many freshly dug graves here."
"So why not involve the authorities, Danners?"
"Maybe the same reason you and Reilly didn’t."
The man had him there. It'd be one thing to do what they'd done back in America, but here? Concealing a body might well be against the law in Mexico but dealing with the consequences of a dead woman in your bathroom could be far more harrowing. Reilly could well end up being charged with murder. Even if he was acquitted, he'd most certainly spend a year or more in jail, lose his job with the Bureau, and end up with that shit on his record for the rest of his life. And if found guilty? Forget about it.
Yeah, he was going out on a limb helping the man. But that's what Hank Lupo did. There might well come a time when he needed something too. Something a man like Reilly Cooper could provide. One hand washed the other. That's how things worked.
"So what's the plan, Dan? Have you figured out how you're going to deal with these characters? Or are you playing this tune by ear?"
"I don't know, Hank. I wish I did. We came here last week looking for objects that might help me get impressions... that's how I work. We found this knife. I'm getting images of blood, so I'm guessing it was used in some sort of ritual killings, maybe the sam
e murders we're investigating. I'm pretty sure Fletch wants it back."
"Let me see that thing. A little light, Reilly. Where'd you steal it from?"
Holding the knife in his hands, the first thing he noticed was the blade. It wasn’t an ordinary flat blade. Instead, it was triangular, roughly a foot long, with a much shorter handle. The pommel was the head of a demon ornately carved into the black metal with obvious artistry and craft. The handle was made to resemble bone though it too was black. It was too heavy to be cast iron yet too light to be lead.
"I found it in Fletch's church in a drawer under that makeshift altar. I didn’t actually steal it though, Hank. I prefer the term borrow."
"Sure, Danners... and I'm sure Fletch didn’t actually kill anyone with this thing... he probably prefers the term setting their souls free. I'd like someone to look at this. She might know more about it than any of us."
"We don't have time to be calling in the experts, Hank."
"I know that, Liza. This person is right here in Santo Tomas... look... it's gonna be daybreak in an hour or so. There's not much more we can do tonight. And besides, that church looks like it's full up. And the last time I counted, there are only four of us. I don't like the odds. So let's go back to the cabins, get a little sleep, and plot this thing out before we go and get into something way over our heads."
Chapter 57—I Have Something
(To Show You)
1
Waking to Liza by his side always put a smile on his face and today was no different. For a second it seemed like just another day but then he remembered the night before... the lost feeling welling up inside him when Liza vanished... the surety that he'd never see her again... and the joy at finding her.
What the hell were they still doing here in Santo Tomas? Elena Stamper was dead. Whatever contract they had died with her. These people didn’t want them around. The peasants were all either in league with Fletch or too frightened of the man to oppose him and his so-called word of God. They were all better off going home to Los Angeles and leaving things be as they'd been for the last few hundred years.