Death Devil (9781101559666) (10 page)

“My God,” Belinda said, her hand on her throat. “That sounded like Edna.” She was through the door before Fargo could stop her.

Thinking that Harold must be beating his wife, Fargo darted after her. He was on her heels when they came to the foot of the stairs.

Harold and Orville and the other men were already there, staring up uneasily.

“What's going on?” Belinda asked. “Why did Edna scream like that?”

“She went up to check on Abigail,” Harold said, “and then we heard that awful cry.” He bounded up the stairs and everyone else followed suit.

Fargo came last. He glanced in the parlor and saw Mabel still out on the settee. He'd forgotten about her. When she came around and told Orville he'd hit her, there would be hell to pay. He'd better be gone before then.

The farmers and the physician stopped at a closed door. “This is our bedroom,” Harold said. He tried to open it and said angrily, “It's bolted on the inside.”

“You have a bolt on your bedroom door?” Orville said.

“So the kids can't come barging in on us.” Harold pounded and shook the door. “Edna? Are you all right? What the hell was that? And why is the door bolted?”

In the room someone whimpered.

“Was that her?” one of the men asked.

“Edna?” Harold hollered louder, and shook the door more violently. “Let us in, you hear?”

“Break it down,” Belinda said.

“Like hell,” Harold replied. “Doors cost money and I can't afford to replace it.”

“But your wife is in trouble.”

“It would serve her right, sendin' for you without my say-so.”

“Oh, hell,” Fargo said. Shoving Harold aside, he raised his boot to kick the door but just then there was a scraping noise and the door was jerked open.

Edna stumbled out. The left side of her neck had been torn open, and she had a hand over it to stem the flow of blood. Not much was coming out although a lot already had; the front and back of her dress were stained crimson. She looked at her husband and gasped, “Harold!”

Harold was rooted in shock. “What in the world?” he blurted. She fell into his arms and would have fallen to the floor had Orville not sprang to help. “What could have done this?”

Fargo tried to see into the bedroom but too many people were in his way.

Uttering a groan, Edna passed out.

“Let's set her down,” Orville said, and they eased her onto her back.

Belinda tried to get between them, saying, “I need to have a look at her. She needs immediate treatment.”

“You've done enough,” Harold barked, and grabbed her to prevent her from intervening.

Fargo coiled to defend her but suddenly one of the other men let out a cry of horror.

“God in heaven! Look!”

A girl of ten or so was in the doorway. She wore a plain white cotton dress and had long brown hair. Her face was twisted in savage fury—and she was foaming at the mouth.

Everyone turned to stone.

The girl looked at each of them. Her eyes were so bloodshot, the whites were red. Her pupils were dilated. With each breath she took her nose flared, and all the while froth bubbled around her lips and dribbled down her chin and neck.

“Abigail?” Harold said.

The girl hissed and hooked her fingers into claws. Several of the men, including Orville, took an involuntary step back, and one man gasped.

“Abby?” Harold said again. “This is your pa. What in heaven's name has happened to you?” He reached for her.

“No!” Belinda cried.

It was too late. Abigail sprang and bit down on her father's fingers. Harold screeched, there was a
crunch
, and the girl bit the ends of two of the fingers off. She pulled back, the fingertips jutting from her teeth, and did something that made even Fargo's blood chill: she smiled.

Harold clutched his hand, blood pumping from the stumps, and blubbered gibberish.

“God preserve us!” another McWhertle exclaimed.

Abigail spat the fingers out. Some of the foam flew in small drops onto the man's arm and he recoiled as if the drops were the plague.

“Abby?” Belinda reached for her but the girl ducked under her grasp. “Grab her!” she cried.

The girl ducked under Orville's halfhearted attempt to grasp her and passed the others. She was incredibly quick.

Fargo tried, and missed.

“Catch her, Skye!” Belinda said. “We can't let her get away.”

Abigail flew down the hall and Fargo ran in pursuit. He reached the top of the stairs and saw her at the bottom. She glanced up and gave him another of those awful smiles, and then she raced off. He took the stairs three at a bound. She had left the front door open and he sped out onto the porch. To his left a small white form was streaking toward the barn. Leaping over the rail, he pumped his legs. He was considered fleet of foot and had taken part in a few footraces and done well but the girl was inhuman. She reached the barn and disappeared inside.

When he got there he stopped. She had already bitten her mother's neck and bit off her father's fingers; he'd be damned if he would let her bite him, too.

Fargo placed his hand on his Colt, then took it off. He wouldn't shoot her if he could help it. Warily, he entered. The barn smelled of horses and cows and straw. He looked for a lantern but it was too dark to see one. He cautiously advanced down the aisle. In a stall a horse nickered. “Abigail?” he said. “We want to help you.”

From somewhere deeper in came a hiss.

Fargo's skin crawled. He would take on anyone man-to-man or man-to-beast. But this? Something terrible had happened to this girl. Something had changed her. He remembered Old Man Sawyer and his skin crawled anew. Sweat broke out. Whatever it was, he realized, it must be contagious. Which meant if the girl bit him—

Something moved at the end of the aisle.

Fargo felt his mouth go dry. If it was rabies there was no cure. Everyone who came down with it died. He licked his lips and moved more slowly, his body a taut spring, ready to dodge or backpedal. “Abigail,” he said softly. “I'm a friend. Can you understand?”

Another hiss told him she couldn't.

Fargo walked on eggshells. A thump to his left caused him to whirl but it was only a horse in a stall. He edged forward. Suddenly there was the rasp of leather hinges and a door at the back was flung wide and a white form darted out. He hurtled after her.

The cool night air chilled the sweat on his body. Ahead, the white figure was plunging into a field of corn. He ran to the edge of the field, and stopped. It would be folly for him to go in after her. The stalks were so tightly spaced, the rows so close together, that she could come out of nowhere and sink her teeth into him before he could stop her.

Fargo stood there, debating. Other than slight rustling the corn was still, the dark ominous. He imagined her waiting for him, her red eyes blazing, her mouth dripping foam.

Voices reached him, and he turned. Light filled the barn. Another moment and Orville McWhertle and two others emerged, Orville carrying a lantern above his head. They spotted him and came over.

“She went in there?” one of the cousins asked.

Fargo nodded.

“Did you ever see the like in all your born days?” asked the other man.

Fargo shook his head.

“It's rabies,” Orville declared. “It has to be. First Sawyer and now sweet little Abby.”

“She didn't seem so sweet to me,” said one of the men.

“Do you think it's rabies, mister?” the other one asked Fargo.

“I don't know.”

“What else can it be?” Orville said.

“I'm no doctor,” Fargo said, “but I've heard that to catch it you have to be bit.”

“So?”

“So when did Old Man Sawyer bite Abigail?”

The McWhertles looked at one another.

“God Almighty,” the second man said. “It must be he's sneakin' around bitin' folks.”

“But why her?” Fargo said.

“Rabid folk don't need a why,” Orville said. “They just bite. She's been laid up with a fever for a couple of days now. He must've bit her three or four days ago.”

“How long does it take after you're bit for the rabies to turn you mad?” the first man asked.

“How the hell would I know,” Orville said.

“Dr. Jackson does, I bet,” Fargo mentioned.

“Big help she'll be,” Orville said. “There's nothin' she can do and you damn well know it.”

“Let's go ask her,” proposed the second man.

“What about Abigail?” asked the first, gesturing at the corn.

“Do you want to go in there, Abner?” Orville said.

“Lord help me, I sure as hell do not.”

“Do you, Clyde?”

“No. I got me a wife and kids of my own. I don't want my blood tainted and have to be put down like a dog or a coon.”

“How about you, scout? Why didn't you go in after her? Could it be you're scared?”

“I'm not a fool,” Fargo said. “I'll wait for daylight and track her down.”

They turned and started for the barn and were halfway there when Harold came out the rear door with a towel wrapped around his right hand and his arm clasped to his chest. The towel was stained red. “Where's my daughter? Why ain't you after her?”

“She got into the corn, cousin,” Orville said.

“So? We'll take a lantern and go find her. If we spread out we can cover the whole field.”

“Not me,” Abner said.

“Me neither,” Clyde said. “I ain't lookin' to be bit.” He stared at the red towel. “How are you feelin', Harold? It get into your blood yet?”

“What?” Harold said.

“Why, the rabies, you dunce,” Clyde said. “What did you reckon was the matter with her?”

“The rabies?” Harold said, and his face drained white. He, too, looked at the towel and said, “Oh God. I didn't think of that.”

“Edna and you both will get it now,” Orville said.

“We don't know it's rabies,” Fargo remarked, but no one paid him any mind.

“It must have been Old Man Sawyer.” Harold came to the same conclusion as his kin. “He must of bit her days ago. But when? And where? She's been close to home the whole time. And she never mentioned runnin' into him.” He ran his unhurt hand over his head. “You'd think she'd have mentioned a thing like bein' bit.”

Clyde cleared his throat. “We'll have to . . .” He stopped. “What's that word? Oh, yeah, I remember now. We'll have to quarantine you and your missus so when you take to foamin', you don't bite anyone else and spread it worse.”

“Quarantine?” Harold repeated, stunned.

“Let's go talk to the lady sawbones,” Orville said. “As much as I hate to admit it, she probably knows more about rabies than anyone, even Charlie Dogood.”

Fargo followed. As he was about to enter the barn he glanced over his shoulder and thought he glimpsed a small white form crouched in the corn. He blinked, and it was gone.

The men were somber as they filed into the house and up the stairs. Belinda had gotten Edna onto the bed. Edna was unconscious and Belinda was stitching her neck wound with a long needle. She looked up as they appeared in the doorway. “That's far enough.”

“This is my house and she's my wife,” Harold said. “I can come in if I want.”

“I can't afford to be distracted,” Belinda said. “And I need you or someone else to heat water and bring the pot upstairs. I have to clean this wound to prevent infection.”

“What about the rabies?” Orville asked. “What can you do about that?”

“I don't think it is,” Belinda said.

“Why? We all saw that girl foamin' at the mouth. And your friend, Fargo, said he saw Old Man Sawyer doin' the same.”

Belinda paused with her needle inserted in a strip of flesh. “Listen to me. I can't be disturbed right now. But I'll simply say that it's my understanding that when a person contracts rabies, by the time they're foaming at the mouth, they're also experiencing seizures and paralysis. In other words, they're incapacitated to the point where they can't go around attacking others.”

“Inca-what?” Harold asked.

“They can't move much,” Belinda clarified. “Now please. If I'm to have any hope of saving your wife, I need that water and I need privacy.” She went to bend over Edna but looked up again. “Oh. And Harold. As soon as I'm finished with Edna, I'll take a look at your hand.”

“I'm fine,” Harold said. “The bleedin' has mostly stopped.”

The McWhertles turned and descended the stairs, their voices fading as they neared the kitchen.

Fargo leaned against the jamb and folded his arms. “Is there anything I can do?”

Belinda glanced over and smiled. “Not at the moment.” She bent to the needle. “I forgot to ask them. What happened to Abigail?”

“She ducked into the corn. I'll go after her at first light.”

“There are two of them out there now,” Belinda said worriedly. “And despite what I told the others, to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure it's not rabies. I haven't had any experience with the disease.”

“I wouldn't tell them that,” Fargo said.

“No, I won't. We don't want a panic on our hands,” Belinda said. “Although now that I think about it, I should send riders to warn everyone to be on the lookout for anyone or anything that shows the symptoms.”