(1995) The Oath (62 page)

“So Lord God, having established that, I also need to admit, to confess, that—” He hesitated, then continued. “I admit, Lord, that—I have not lived my life in such a way that would be totally pleasing to You. I’m sure You’re aware of that.”

Behind him, the church door opened silently then closed again.

He was trying to get this task completed as quickly as possible but as thoroughly as required. “Lord, I’m a—well, I’m a sinner. It’s that simple. I admit it. I’ve got this black stuff all over me; I’m being hunted by a tenacious monster—” He stopped. He was talking to God; he’d have to be honest again. “Okay, I’m a very proud man, very self-serving, I suppose—and, uh, quite individualistic, sort of the center of my universe. So consequently, I’ve violated your moral laws. I’ve not been honest and faithful in my relationships, and I’ve caused someone else to not be honest and faithful in hers. I’ve—”

Oh, brother! Emotion at a time like this? His voice quavered, and his eyes filled with tears. He pushed ahead. “Lord God, Levi asked me how many other Tracys there have been. Well, I’ve only truly loved one woman, and that was Jennifer. But I failed her— and so I lost her. I didn’t deserve her.”

This could take all night, and he didn’t have all night. “Lord, I do apologize for hurrying through this, but the dragon could be on its way here right now, and I have a lot to do. So let me get to the bottom line if I may. Lord God, if I’m to prevail against that dragon tonight—” His hand went to his heart. “—I need to win a victory here first. So, Lord, I’m bringing it to you. All the sin. Every evil thing that’s inside me. The—the dragon that’s living in there, whatever it is, however it works. And I’m asking you, Lord, to take it away. Please. Unhook me. Set me free.”

He looked up through the window as if God was looking down. “Jesus, forgive me. Please forgive me.”

“Steve,” came a quiet voice behind him. He spun around, startled.

It was Reverend Ron Woods, sitting in the front pew, in the dark. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Steve stood. “That’s okay.”

“I was standing at my window, and I saw you go into the church. I thought I could be of some help.”

How nice. Bad timing, though. “Well, Reverend, I may not have time right now.”

“But I heard you asking for forgiveness.” Steve noticed that Woods’s eyes seemed strangely vacant. “Steve, you don’t need forgiveness. If anything, you need to forgive yourself.”

A counseling session on a night like this? “I’m sure we can talk about this later.”

Woods got to his feet. “Steve, listen to me. This town is coming apart because of guilt. We don’t need any more of it around here. You don’t need it.”

Steve tried to push past him. “And that’s why I’m getting rid of it!”

Woods blocked his path. “But I’m trying to tell you, you don’t have it to begin with! Steve, guilt is a relative term. It’s something we foist on ourselves.”

“What?”

“Why do you think those people down there are looting and fighting and destroying? It’s because they’ve been deprived for so long and they can’t feel good about themselves!”

Steve began to smell an all-too-familiar stench, and he could discern a haunting tone in Woods’s voice. “Reverend, I don’t think that’s the reason.”

The Reverend just kept going. “Of course it is. That’s what I kept trying to tell Levi, bless his heart. People act guilty because they feel guilty, so it’s not what you do; it’s how you feel about yourself. If you’re true to yourself, if you love yourself, you won’t hurt others.”

Steve absolutely had to get going. “Reverend, listen, I’ve been—I’ve been totally devoted to myself, okay? I’ve been absolutely nuts about myself. But let me tell you, I’ve hurt other people a lot!”

“And now you feel guilty, right? Well, I used to feel guilty, did you know that? I was bitter, and I was envious of other ministers who were successful. But now I know, there is no guilt after all. It’s all in your head.”

Steve noticed the Reverend’s hand had remained over his heart. He reached over and pulled the hand away. The black slime stretched in strings from Woods’s fingers to his chest. “Not quite, Reverend. Not quite.”

Woods just looked down at himself dumbly. “You don’t need forgiveness from God. You can change yourself. There’s no right or wrong except what we make up for ourselves.”

Now, with horror, Steve could see it plainly. “You’re hooked . . .”

“Just feel good about yourself, that’s all.”

“You’re hooked and you’re losing it.”

Woods looked at Steve, his eyes glimmering in the dark and a smile widening on his face. “Steve, there isn’t any dragon. That’s just a superstition, a tool some people use to manipulate others.”

Enough of this! Steve edged toward the door. “I have to go.”

Woods blocked his way. “You don’t have to go. Please, stay and talk awhile.”

“Sorry.”

Woods’s blackened hand shot out like a trap and locked onto Steve’s arm. “Please! Stay! It would be time well spent.”

Steve tried to pull away. The Reverend hung on. “Reverend, I’ve got things to do. Now let go.”

But Woods would not relax his grip. “Don’t worry about the dragon. Really, there is no such thing.”

I’ve danced to this tune before, Steve thought, and forcefully yanked his arm away.

Woods clamped onto his arm again! “There is no dragon!!”

The stained-glass window exploded in a shower of glass, and Steve saw the golden eyes, the gleaming teeth, and the groping, silver claws. He yanked himself loose and dashed down the center aisle.

Oof! Steve hit the ground with a thud. Woods had tackled him, bringing him down.

Steve kicked and twisted, trying to get free. Woods hung on like a wild man, his blackened hands streaking Steve’s clothing.

The dragon’s neck flowed through the window as the golden retinas once again locked on their target. The left paw came through the opening and crunched a pew in the choir loft; the right stump groped and thumped against the window frame, trying to fit through.

Steve got one leg loose, kicked Woods in the head, and broke free. He got to his feet and could hear the dragon inhaling as he reached the rear of the sanctuary.

“Yaaaa!” With a maniacal cry, Woods leapt on Steve from behind, arms and legs clamping around him.

CRASH! The dragon smashed the pulpit aside with its flailing head as it continued to work itself through the opening, shaking the whole building. The right leg stump came through the window and slammed into the choir loft. The dragon raised its head until it crunched into the ceiling, the horns splintering a rafter.

Woods himself was like a wild beast, growling, grunting, teeth bared, trying to wrestle Steve backward, trying to pull him toward those jaws and claws and teeth. Steve kicked and punched, trying to knock Woods loose. He was losing.

Steve finally lurched sideways, slamming the pastor’s head against the end of a pew. With a cry of pain, Woods dropped away, grabbed for Steve’s leg, and missed.

The dragon’s head pitched forward, the jaws opened.

Steve dashed through the foyer and out the front door just as yellow flames exploded out the side windows of the church. A wall of fire blew the front doors open and rolled down the front steps.

Steve ran, feeling the rolling wave of heat at his heels, seeing light like a sunrise washing over the buildings ahead of him. He could hear the church coming apart. He looked back.

The dragon had burned a hole through the church roof. Now the head appeared, slashing and biting, ducking under and then lurching up and back, the horns hooking and ripping out the rafters. Burning boards and shingles were flying everywhere.

Then the roof, the brand-new roof, ignited like a torch, and a flurry of sparks and embers shot skyward. The jaws closed on the rafters, then tore them loose.

Steve raced down the hill, heading for Levi Cobb’s garage. That thing would be out of the church building any moment and looking for him, flames blasting and fangs ready. Whatever Levi had planned, now was the time to figure it out.

“Okay, Lord,” Steve huffed as he fled down the street, “it’s all Yours!”

TWENTY- TWO

FREE

C
HARLIE’S
was a beehive gone mad, with people helping themselves to beer and wine, playing video games on stolen quarters, and frying burgers on the grill. A number of men and women had forgotten who was married to whom. They were dancing, flirting, and laughing. One drunken couple banged into a wall, and an elk head came down off its bracket; the elk started dancing on the legs of a drunken man.

The black stuff—the slime— was everywhere. From shirts and blouses it went to hands, and from hands it went to other hands and to faces and to objects. It was on the floor, causing people to slip. It was on doorknobs, on handles, on chair backs, chair seats, tabletops. It got passed around on the sides of beer bottles and edges of plates. It went down hungry mouths with the potato chips, the french fries, the microwaved sandwiches.

It was all over the knob on the door that led to the mercantile, and Carl was getting frustrated, trying to get the knob to turn.

“Hey!” he hollered. “Someone help me over here.”

That knob wouldn’t turn, however. Not because of the slime but because it was locked—by Harold Bly, the owner.

But Carl wanted in, as did Andy. Then more and more of the folks in the tavern decided they wanted in, and before long there was a crash as the mercantile’s front window came out, an advance party climbed in, and the door was swung open from the inside.

There was so much good stuff to steal in that mercantile that it was impossible to carry it all away. But some people had thought ahead: They had cars and trucks outside, ready to load up.

THE CHURCH
was engulfed in consuming fire as the dragon climbed out through the roof, slid down the steep pitch, and rolled gently onto the gravel parking lot in a shower of cinders and sparks. Now it crouched, wary, fevered with malice, only half-camouflaged in the dark. It could hear the ballyhoo down at Charlie’s, and it could sense other souls engaged in mischief, dashing and hiding throughout the town.

But it had lost connection with the Hunter, and right now, the Hunter was the first victim it wanted.

RAISING A
clanging, bashing, metallic racket, Steve frantically searched Levi’s workbench, rummaged behind the backhoe, and groped among the scrap metal and heavy machine parts out behind the garage. That spear, that lance, that whatever-it-was, had to be here somewhere.

Unless someone had stolen it or unless Levi had hidden it.

Oh, Lord, where is it? Don’t bring me this far and not let me find it!

He ran back inside, frantically scanning the walls, the ceiling, the cluttered floor. It wasn’t among the hydraulic hoses or leaning against the wall with the dismembered backhoe arm, it wasn’t sitting on or behind the oil drums, it wasn’t stowed in the overhead rack with the old exhaust systems.

That stupid truck! The telephone company’s big ladder truck took up half the garage, and Steve kept having to run around it to search. He came around one more time, for one more look. He knew Levi had been working back there on something.

One look up and he found it. The sight stopped him in his tracks. No. He couldn’t believe it.

Steve grabbed a wooden stepladder sitting right next to the truck and climbed up for a close look.

Levi had welded the lance to the powered extension ladder atop the truck, and now the lance jutted out beyond the ladder and over the cab. The broad tip had been honed and oiled. You could shave with it.

What was Levi thinking?

“This tip here can slide between the scales, knife up under ’em . . . Once you get through those scales, you just keep shoving ’til you hit something vital . . .”

Yeah, yeah, he knew that part. The part that always puzzled him, which he hadn’t figured out even yet, was How?

“You’d have to get up under the dragon to use it . . ”

Steve looked up and down that ladder, taking careful note of the truck’s size. He tried to think like Levi. Get up under the dragon. Yeah, sure! Sneak up behind him with this big rig?

“I was thinking one way would be to get the dragon to back over it, you know? Just have it propped up somewhere and get the dragon to back up and stab himself . . .”

Another impossibility, Steve thought. The dragon always stayed low to the ground.

And yet, Levi’s plan must not be impossible; he must have thought of a way . . .

It hit him. Levi’s dying words. “The tunnel. Use the tunnel. Jesus will take care of the rest.”

Steve thought it over. He envisioned it; he played it out, and considered the odds.

Yeah, Jesus better take care of the rest . . . because Steve was going to try it.

WHILE STATE TROOPERS
combed through the Clark County Sheriff’s Office for clues and evidence, Lieutenant Barnard and Evelyn Benson stood in Collins’s office with Deputy Johanson; Barnard to view things firsthand and Evelyn to clarify what she’d seen.

“He was sitting right there, propped against the door,” Evelyn indicated, pointing at the doorway to the sheriff’s office. “And Tracy was over there, near the coat rack.”

“Yeah,” said Johanson. “The bloodstains were just behind the door. Take a look at that jacket. It has some kind of black scuzz all over it.”

Barnard took a look, sniffed it, and shot a look at Evelyn.

“What is this stuff? Do you have any idea?”

“It’s something they all seem to have in common,” she answered.

“And Deputy Ellis was going back to Hyde River?”

“She was going after Steve. They could both be in danger.”

Suddenly Barnard’s mobile radio squawked, “Car one-eighteen, car one-eighteen.”

Barnard grabbed the radio off his belt and spoke into it. “One-eighteen.”

Julie the dispatcher’s voice crackled out of the radio. “We have reports from Hyde River: full-scale rioting, looting, gunfire. One man down with a gunshot wound. Aid crew is en route.”

“What in the—” He looked at Evelyn then replied to the dispatcher, “one-eighteen responding.”