An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. The mayor looked slowly at the council and smiled a languid smile. Boden chuckled, shaking his head. “Gassed? Heh. I don’t know if I buy that. We’re miners. We’re loggers. We’re farmers. We’re not soldiers.”
“Where is the sheriff?” I asked, intentionally changing the subject. Taft was on to something, and the sheriff’s odd behavior was starting to incriminate him. He was also missing.
The mayor looked up, smiled, and then gave a big yawn. “Yes? The sheriff?”
“I appreciate Councilman Boden’s concern but I am going to go with my chuck here. The sheriff should warn the town. Let the people know what we think is causing this. Do you have any protection? Masks?”
Being a mining town I was sure there would be some sort of chemical protection hidden away in one of the buildings.
Boden shook his head. “We did but they wouldn’t be of any value now. When we thought the water supply was poisoned we disassembled them and used their filters to try and clean the water.”
Dammit.
That heavy silence settled back over the table.
“It still doesn’t explain the dreams or the noise,” said the councilwoman, cutting through the silence. Her voice sounded frail.
“No, it doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean those couldn’t come from different sources. The legend of the Firsts describes the old ones having various powers. Causing hallucinations. Even mass hallucinations,” explained Samantha. “The gas very well could be a means to an end. Putting townsfolk into a deep sleep could put a crack in someone’s mind. Allow something to slip inside…”
She shrugged.
“I still don’t buy it,” said Boden.
“Well, this is our best lead.” I looked at the clock. “I want to get another search for Hannah in before we lose the light. Can someone notify me when the sheriff comes in? I need to talk with him about security.”
Wensem shifted uncomfortably.
The mayor smiled and nodded and the meeting adjourned.
Councilman Boden and the mayor remained inside with Samantha and Wensem but Eustis followed Taft and I out of the Big House. I was starving, my mind rapidly flipping through our options. A bowl of Taft’s chili would help me think.
“Are you sure this isn’t magic?” Eustis asked again. Her hand played over the horns that extended from the back of her head.
“Ain’t no such thing,” said Taft as she fired up the small gas stovetop mounted to the back of the chuckwain and moved a cast iron pot atop its blue flame. The scent of warming chilies, garlic, onions, and beans began to waft from under the lid. I could see that there was something going on inside her head. She was mulling over another idea. I wanted to talk to her about it.
“I agree with my chuck,” I said to the councilwoman. I figured it was better to hold my cards close to my chest. “It’s best we deal with this on a rational level rather than try to assume it’s something out of our ability to fight or control.”
My voice sounded strong in my ears, but my chest felt hollow.
Eustis frowned and nodded nervously. Her old eyes flittered about.
“Now I need to ask you a question,” I said.
“Yes?” she said.
“About the sheriff.”
“Go on,” she nodded, the lines in her face hardening a little.
“He seems to be absent and missing at pretty critical times. Like right now. Yet no one gives a damn. I haven’t seen him since he actively tried to stop me looking for my scout. Is he involved in the kidnappings? The murders? Have you considered it?”
She blinked, taken aback. “Joul? Involved? Oh, no. No, no, no. He’s not involved. He could never be.”
“What makes you so sure?”
She looked nervously over her shoulders. “He—well…” She stopped and looked down at her feet and rubbed her hands together.
Taft watched her, stirring the chili with a wooden spoon.
“Go on,” I urged, my voice almost a whisper. “It’s okay.”
With a jolt like a lightning strike her eyes flashed up at me. “No, it’s not. It’s never okay. Not anymore. Not in Methow.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, sternly this time.
She melted again, looking back towards the Big House. Samantha and Wensem were stepping out, talking with the mayor. I could see the form of Boden inside the doorway. Rail thin. Draped in his baggy hood.
“He, his wife. I … look … I … it’s not my place to say,” she stammered. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m so sorry.”
I reached out to gingerly touch her shoulder. To try to ease her into talking but she scuttled away before I could say anything else.
Taft and I watched her go. Bubbles were beginning to rise to the surface of the chili.
“Well, that was weird,” Taft said. Her thick hands rested on her ponderous hips, wooden spoon extending like a riding crop. She looked like a general watching her troops march to battle.
“I’m not sure I trust any of them,” I said. “Boden lurks inside the Big House like a vampire. Half the time he’s timid and flighty, other times—like today—he seems more grounded.”
“The mayor is batshit insane,” said Taft with a humorless laugh.
“Right. She…” I pointed with my chin towards the councilwoman. “She is adamant that this is some supernatural occurrence and since no one agrees she weakly sides with Boden, the mayor, or the sheriff. Whoever has the strongest voice at the time.”
“What do you think she knows?”
“No idea,” I said flatly, watching Eustis pass the group gathered near the Big House’s entrance.
“And the sheriff?”
I breathed out a huff. “The sheriff. As far as I can tell he seems to actively work against us, and I think he’s the strongest of that council. He also seems to be the most coherent… the one with an agenda. Though what that is I can’t tell.”
Taft nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Something’s up with him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is a part of what’s going on here.”
I agreed but something inside me was wary. It was difficult to see the man as a killer. Then again, I had been wrong about Peter Black, so what do I know?
Taft paused, tasting her chili and finally dished me a big steaming bowl. I could smell the heat in it. My mouth watered.
“That’s why I didn’t say anything inside the Big House,” Taft began. “Wanted to wait until we were alone.”
She looked around for prying ears. The nearest townsperson was across the square sweeping a dusty porch. Chance and Range were coming in through a crack in the gate moving towards the wellhouse along the western edge of the town. They saw me watching and each gave me a sad shake of his head, indicating they hadn’t found Hannah.
“We’re as alone as we’ll get in this town,” I said, taking a spoonful of chili. I spoke around my mouthful. “Say what you will.”
“I know it’s gas. I’m sure of it.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Well,” Taft continued a wide grin splitting her face and making her cheeks rise like round apples at bob. “We can get around it.”
I raised my eyebrows, swallowing another spicy spoonful. “Yeah? We couldn’t before.”
“We didn’t know it was gas then! We just thought we were all drinking too much and working too hard. Now that we know, we can thwart it.” She stabbed a meaty finger at me.
“How do you figure?” I rocked back on my heels. Taft was inventive if she needed to be, I had seen it with her cooking. This, however, was something even beyond her normal resourcefulness. She was almost giddy with excitement.
“I have gas masks,” she said in a hushed voice followed by a jovial chuckle. “Working gas masks. Two, actually!”
My heart instantly began to beat faster.
We could beat this thing.
TWENTY
IN MY OWN EARS MY BREATH SOUNDED LIKE A ROARING GALE. Quick inhalations whooshed past followed by the rush
of an exhalation as I pushed air through the filter that hung off my mask like mandibles.
I found myself flexing and clenching my hands as gooseflesh danced up my arms. Somewhere beyond the roar of my breathing I could hear my heart thumping rapidly. Beyond that, the noise in the sky had returned, pushed to the background behind my breathing.
It would happen again tonight, I was sure of it. The signs were all there. I shivered with nervous anticipation.
My view of the world was reduced to small circles surrounded by darkness. Portholes of near-light through the rubber mask revealed a darkened Methow. A muddy orange light from our scattered torches silhouetted the town. I faced the town, my keff drawn up around my head like a hood, shadowing the mask. I watched the windows, doors, and barricades of Methow carefully.
Wump. I started, my breath seizing in my chest. That was the first of the watch, the first to fall victim to the gas.
I had shifted the watch around, telling everyone I was adjusting for Hannah’s absence but also setting it up so Taft and I were alone. I put us on opposite sides of the town along barricades that gave both of us clear vantage points of the square.
Taft was on the north side, crouching in the shadows atop a barricade between the Big House and a smaller building to the west. I sat alone along the south side atop a barricade next to the gate. Being alone was important. That way neither of us had to deal with answering questions as to why we pulled on the rubber masks as darkness fell.
It had been Taft’s idea to keep the gas masks secret from the rest of the company. “We should tell no one,” she'd said, narrowing her eyes as she handed me a stained hopsack. “No one. Even Sam. Less folk who know about this, the better. It’ll makes things cleaner. Easier.”
Samantha would have been furious. I felt guilty not telling her. Anyone without protection was essentially bait. It wasn’t the most welcoming thought but what else could we do? Our resources were limited and the more people who knew about the masks, the greater the danger that our adversary or adversaries would find out.
As in the previous night, we fed the town. Taft prepared a stew using the last of the dried meat, a handful of carrots, and onions in a thick dimanian-style broth that she poured atop reconstituted potatoes. With full bellies for a second night the town’s spirits lightened again.
The sheriff eventually returned after the group meal was finished. Mud covered his boots and jeans, and dried leaves were tangled in his hair. He clutched a rifle with a scope in his sizable hands. A look of determination was on his face but as I approached, he replaced it quickly with a wide forced smile.
“Gas?” The sheriff had said, his brow knitted. “It’s a theory, I suppose.”
“Boden said you destroyed most of your masks trying to filter the town’s water,” I said. “Is there anywhere you could think of that there might be more? It might help stop whoever is doing this.”
The sheriff had rubbed his chin, thinking the question over. “Not in town. I assure you, we swept the place clean looking for filters. Might be more up in the Kadath—but ever since the landslide it’s near impossible to get in there. Teenagers used to do it, and they say that if you know an entrance it’s still accessible by the old mine tunnels but hell if I know.”
“Maybe we try tomorrow,” I suggested with a swallow. Last time I was underground I had nearly been killed and was almost buried alive.
The sheriff had looked at me warily, his plastered smile wavering. Finally, he shook his head. “Don’t think that’s a good idea. We haven’t been up there in two… three years? With the winter snows that place is probably near collapse if it hasn’t already.”
I drew my lips tight as he resisted the idea. What was he hiding? I wondered if it wasn’t him I’d be seeing through the lenses of my mask later that evening.
A silence hung between us. The big maero stared down at me with an awkward sheepish expression. I held his gaze.
He coughed and then rubbed the back of his neck before flashing me a nervous smile. “Look… er… I’ll see what I can do, tell the townsfolk. I’ll try to keep ’em as calm as I can. Maybe some of the remaining miners can figure out how to rig something up.”
“Anything would be helpful,” I said flatly, trying to study him. He was difficult to read.
“Do you have a plan?” the sheriff inquired, scratching his chin.
“Not yet,” I lied. “We’re still planning on running watches tonight. You’re replacing me for second watch. I’m at the south barricade, near the gate.”
“Same side as the wellhouse?”
I shook my head. “Opposite.”
The fake smile returned, and his tone grew a bit wry. “If what you say is true, let’s hope we get to that second watch!”
We parted ways after that, the sheriff chuckling to himself as he disappeared into the Big House. I started issuing watch assignments to the volunteers. All the while, a rough-spun hopsack hung from my belt holding the mask.
A second sound jolted me from my recollections and I turned my head to watch another member of the watch topple from his post and land on the dirt fast asleep. He'd feel that in the morning.
It was beginning to happen. I felt my pulse quicken. I looked around warily, hoping the masks would work, my breath rushing past me.
A gray mist settled over the town, much like the marine layers that hung around Lovat on summer mornings. It filled crevices and seemed to drip from the roof like rainwater, always at the edge of my vision and fluttering away when I tried to focus on it. The mist had an almost sentient quality to it. A creature of crawling chaos pulling itself across the town.
Wump.
Wump.
Two more. I could feel eyes on me. That creeping tickle at the edge of perception.
I rose into a squat, my bad leg extended to the side, and played up a nervous looking around, hoping my acting skills were dramatic enough to not overplay my hand. Someone was studying the town. Watching. I knew it. I was certain no one would recognize the gas mask I wore, the light of the torches silhouetting me against the sky, my mask invisible. I waited for a few heavy breaths before dropping to one side with my own heavy wump.
By all accounts, Waldo Bell should look like he was fast asleep.
I fell on my shoulder, so I had a fair view of the square and the laager at the center. My pantomimed fall was harder than I expected and I had bit my tongue. Warm blood trickled into my mouth and I wanted to spit.
My lungs inhaled, drawing breath up through the filter in that rushing sound. I wasn’t tired. The mist was all around us. The first watch was fast asleep and I was still wide awake. It was working! Adrenaline surged through me. Nervous heartbeats fluttered in my chest.
A light, sudden and brief, flashed from the north. A mirror reflecting moonlight. Taft acknowledging my mock fall. I heard a heavy sound as she followed suit but I couldn’t see her fall.
I counted the noises I heard. That was all of us. If the ritual was being repeated, the citizens of Methow and the remainder of my company were lost in a deep, deep sleep.
Now what?
I waited.
I’m not sure how long I laid there. Time fueled by adrenaline moves in loping gaits. Night drew in and grew darker. Heavy clouds rolled in from the northwest blocking most of the light from the moon. The mist settled, growing thicker and heavier and the torches around the town began to wink out. Slowly their orange light faded and the silhouettes of the buildings merged with the darkness. Eventually even the noise in the sky faded away, growing softer and eventually disappearing altogether.
Night was at its darkest when the thing emerged from the Big House. I blinked rapidly, unsure of what I was seeing, trying to sort shape from shadow. My breath caught in my throat. A silent scream formed on my lips and I had to bite my lower lip to keep it from escaping.
First a hand. Then a shoulder—or what I thought was a shoulder—pulled itself from inside the door frame. Something was coming out from inside. A face appeared. It was tota
lly unlike any face for as the thing moved it melted and slopped, merging with another mass of inky blackness. Then something bigger, something heavy and wet followed.
Carter’s cross!
I struggled to comprehend what I was witnessing. It was everything I could do not to look away. The thing was both repulsive and familiar to me. There was something in the way it moved, a writhing, oily black mass that seemed to half-pull, half-slink its way out of the doorway… It reminded me of Cybill. It dragged itself across the open ground and towards the laager. Towards where my friends slept. Towards where Samantha slept.
Samantha!
Thinking of her asleep on her bedroll inside our small camp sent a surge of panic through me. My hand moved to the grip of the Judge. All I wanted was to rush from my position, intercept the creature.
I didn’t.
I didn’t move.
Faces seemed to rise and fall within the form, difficult to make out in the darkness. Arms topped with hands of various shapes and sizes seemed to emerge, gripping the dirt and hauling the living morass forward with a weird sloshing motion. Tentacles that wriggled in the air were pulled into the body and reemerged as a leg, or a face, or something unrecognizable.
It was growing faster. My eyes were wide. I forced myself to breathe as I watched the bizarre unearthly locomotion of this … thing. The form kept to the darkest shadows as much as possible, circling the laager like a buzzard to carrion. A bizarre half-form of something ancient and long forgotten.
Taft’s words played out in my head. “We follow it. Whatever happens, don’t expose us. The trail will lead us to Hannah.”
Sam! Don’t take Sam! I thought. Right then, I was willing to sacrifice the rest of my caravan as long as she remained in her bedroll.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the thing crawled into the laager. Most of its bulk was hidden beneath the tarpaulins. A heavy wet slurping sound echoed in the square followed by a light moan, and then it was on the move again: retreating backwards, towards the Big House.
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