Hellfire (15 page)

Nearly three dozen men had gone up against it, and the monster had won the fight handily. Husk had no idea how many of the bodies lying on the ground were dead and how many would eventually wake up. Granted, more than half of them had ended up running away, which is what he decided to do.

Husk struggled up to his full height, turning as he went. On his second step, a stab of pain sparked in his left ankle, and he tried to favor it over his stiff right leg. He headed out into the open clearing, picking out where the trail led back to Shreveport. Middle Bayou flowed below the hill, which meant he needed to head away from the water toward the east.

Behind him, a new roar rang out. East was back toward the monster.

Husk didn’t favor his leg anymore, nor did he think about the town. He ran west as fast as his thin boots would let him. Stabs of pain charged up his leg, but he refused to slow down. Branches cracked behind him.

The edge of the hill swiftly approached, and Husk took in a deep breath before jumping. He hoped the water was deep enough when he landed.

Just as he leaped, he thought he felt a breeze along the back of his neck. It could have been a whiff of the monster’s claw just missing him, or it could have been the wet, cool air near the water. Husk tried not to think about it as he crashed into the light brown water.

It was cool, almost cold compared to the muggy June day. His suit stuck to his body and turned heavy as the water drenched it. Husk touched the muddy bottom and pushed himself back up to the surface. When he broke free, he took in a gasp of musky bayou air. It tasted sweet compared to the stink of the monster’s burrow. He took several more breaths and then looked around.

The monster stood atop the hill, looking down at him with its tiny eyes set in horrid tumors.

Husk made a panicked gasp and pushed himself away. The water worked with him, and he swam toward the opposite shore. He could make landfall and hike, maybe find a cabin or something before nightfall.

The monster gave a grunt and stomped away from the edge of the hill above the water. Husk smiled as he paddled. It was afraid of the water.

After another grunt, the monster made lumbering steps back toward the water. The spear had fallen out of its arm, probably lost somewhere among the branches. It built up speed and then leaped into the air.

Husk froze in the water, sinking up to his chin as he watched.

The monster sailed completely over the bayou and landed on the other side with a terrible thud. It stumbled a step or two, crushing brush out of its way. When it had recovered, it turned and walked back toward Husk. Mud slurped around its hairy feet as it walked.

Water flowed up over Husk’s face. He had forgotten to swim and sank. Husk furiously paddled his arms to get back on top of the tan bayou. He drove himself away from the other bank.

The monster looked at him and opened its shark-toothed mouth a few inches. It let out a thrumming rhythm of grunts like a roll of thunder.

Husk squinted at it. The monster laughed.

It was laughing at him.

They had treated it like some kind of beast, but they were wrong. Pike baiting it with a rabbit hadn’t worked because it knew it was a trick. When the men with bayonets attacked, it had ignored them and pulled on the oak because it knew the tree would beat them off him as it fell.

It wasn’t an unthinking monster at all. It had been planning, reacting, and even mocking them this whole time.

Husk shivered in the cool water. It seemed impossible that something so horrifying, so unnaturally ugly, could hold genius as well.

It pointed to the other bank and shook its deformed head. Husk swallowed, tasting some of the earthy water as he did. There was no hope of escape on either bank.

He had to stay in the water. It flowed north, up to where it would spill into Twelve Mile Bayou. Maybe he could make his escape there.

Husk paddled, adding his own speed to the flow of the water. The monster took a few slow steps, following him, watching him with a myriad of tiny eyes.

Chapter Eighteen

The nurse hadn’t drugged him.

Nate Kemp was still reeling. What had changed her mind about him?

He would have to find out later. Now was the time to pretend he was, in fact, drugged. Nate gradually let his arms and legs go limp. He slowed his breathing and even let a little drool fall.

The tall hunchback came into the cell, looming over Nate and watching him. Nate could hear the sound of his heavy breathing echo under his mask even above the wailing of patients in the other rooms. Worse was the smell, the acrid sulfur that flowed off his body. Four people had previously been leaning over him, but now it seemed cramped with just the one monster.

Nate kept up the façade. He took such shallow breaths of the foul air that he felt he might pass out anyway. His heart pounded. If anyone pressed an ear to his chest, that would be the end of it.

A loud crack rang out: the sound of a gunshot. Nate could not help but gasp. He rolled over slightly and pretended it was his last burst of energy. The other patients in the hospital screamed again. Their voices were beginning to falter, turning almost into labored yelps. Nate struggled not to open his eyes. He hoped the giant was fooled.

“We’re through here,” he heard a voice say over the roar. It was the practiced city accent of Ticks. “Take him.”

The sulfurous smell grew worse, and Nate could not help but gag. He turned it into a cough and groaned softly. Something pushed against him. He tried not to move more than a sleeping man would.

The leather strap around his waist loosened. Nate held his breath.

Warm gloves grabbed his hands, jerking them harshly from one side to the next. Air washed over Nate’s chapped wrists as the leather strap fell. He was free.

Nate wanted to jump off the thin mattress and run. Maybe he could push past the hunchbacks. Maybe…

No. It was a tiny room, and he was outnumbered three to one. Even if he did make it into the long hallway, there was no cover if someone started shooting again. He had to play possum just a little while longer.

Huge arms hefted Nate over the bed. Blood rushed to Nate’s head as he was thrown against what felt like a leathery wall. His arms fell over his head. The stink of rotting meat stabbed at his nostrils, and he groaned again to keep from gagging.

Nate risked peeking an eye open. He dangled over Biggs’s shoulder. The cell was upside down. Walls passed close as he was carried out into the hallway.

The howls of the other patients all around him seemed like unending thunder.

Slowly, the hall receded. Ticks and Parvis were nowhere in sight. He supposed they were ahead of him.

The tall orderly, Jim, appeared in the corner of his eye. Nate closed his eye quickly, but then opened it again slowly, just enough that he could peek between his eyelashes.

Jim had the laudanum bottle held up to his face. Nate’s heart seize up. They’d been found out.

“Miss Ozzie, I think there’s something wrong with—,” the freedman orderly began, but the nurse’s shrill voice quickly cut him off.

“Jim! Where is that towel? We still haven’t cleaned up this mess!”

Nate’s heart relaxed. The nurse was again covering for him. He had to keep himself from smiling. He closed his eyes again.

Jim and the nurse continued arguing, and their voices grew faint. Nate felt Biggs turn a corner.

A new voice barked out. It was Dr. Sims. “Tell me where I can find Mr. Kemp after your investigation.”

Biggs stopped. Nate’s face banged into the giant’s backside. He tried not to groan.

“I’ve already filled out the paperwork,” Ticks’s voice said calmly. “Get out of our way before I arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

Feet shuffled. Biggs started moving again.

The doctor’s voice sputtered a few times and then cried out, “You shot one of the patients!”

“He attacked a marshal of the Rail Agency,” Ticks said, his voice cold. “You should beg me not to report this.”

The light beyond his eyelids grew bright, turning his vision from black to a dark rosy color. A soft breeze brushed up against his skin. They were outside now.

Not yet, Nate told himself. He had to have enough room to maneuver once he ran. Remembering back to when the farmers dragged him here, tied with a rope so he couldn’t struggle past them, there had been a line of bushes next to the wall. He’d aim for that.

Now.

Nate threw his head and torso backward, pulling as hard with his back as he could and pushing up with his arms off Biggs’s stiff body. It wasn’t enough to flip himself over, so he twisted as he came back down and grabbed both arms around Biggs’s head.

Biggs let out a shocked sound like a high-pitched growl. His arms latched more tightly around Nate’s legs.

Nate gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to just slip out on surprise. He had to fight.

Nate slid one arm down around Bigg’s neck, tucking it under his mask and wrenching his throat as tightly as he could. With his other arm, he drew up his fist and brought it down as hard as he could onto the back of his head, right where the skull and spine would meet. He kicked his legs as furiously as he could to loosen Biggs’s grip.

The giant’s cries grew louder. Nate growled through his own teeth. Other voices started joining in.

Nate punched again and again with all of the strength he had. Dabs of red blood from his knuckles stained the brown leather of Biggs’s drawn-down hat.

He felt Biggs’s grip on his legs loosen ever so slightly, and Nate threw himself backward again. His left leg slipped free. He planted a knee squarely into Biggs’s leather mask. Biggs let out a guttural grunt of pain. It accented the sharp crescendo of glass shattering.

Nate hit something hard on his shoulders and the back of his head. Fireworks exploded before his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself on the ground.

“Grab him!” he heard Ticks’s voice screech.

It was enough to make his blood flow again. Nate rolled over onto his hands and feet and threw himself forward. Gloved hands rolled over his back, but the loose gown had bunched up around his front, leaving them unable to find a hold on his smooth back. Nate suddenly felt grateful. If he’d been wearing his work shirt, they would’ve had him by the collar.

Instead, he bolted for the bushes. He was indeed at the entrance to the asylum, which had huge carved wooden double doors leading inside. Dr. Sims stood there, motionless, mouth gaping.

Nate ignored him and dove behind the well pruned greenery that decorated the outer brick walls of the hospital. They bristled with leaves on the outside, but inside they were tangles of dead branches that had lost access to the warm sun. Any patient who tried to climb down from one of the windows above would have become tangled in the branches, but, on the ground, there was just enough room for him to shuffle through at an almost-running pace.

“He’s escaping!” Ticks shouted behind him.

Biggs grunted. Parvis squealed.

Nate heard Jim’s voice call out from a distance, “See? I told you there was something wrong with that bottle!”

Nate had to duck as he went to avoid the prickly branches that grew up next to the wall. His left arm scraped up against the bricks. Dead branches bit him on the right. Rocks and sticks stabbed at his feet.

Nate pressed on. It was all he could do.

Window after window passed over his head. He was in front of the far hallway now. A female voice shrieked, and then others joined in. They were sharp cries over the dull bass of the shouts from the rail agents behind him. A melody of branches sang at him as he broke his way through. Nate’s head was spinning.

The bush in front of him was filled with green. Nate ducked as he burst through it. After a particularly loud cacophony of tearing, the sound of breaking branches ended. The world opened up around him. Warm, sunny June air was all that surrounded him.

He had run out of wall. The hospital only went so far, and he had lost his cover.

Ticks’s voice shouted out clearly, “There he is!”

Nate looked back over his shoulder. Biggs was taking huge, bounding strides toward him, and Parvis followed shortly after, scampering with his long arms waggling. Behind them, Ticks had a hand on his black hat as he ran. Behind them all was the huge Rail Agency airship.

Its enormous balloon cast a soft shadow over part of the hospital. Beneath the stretched canvas was the wooden ark, like an enclosed ship’s deck, which rested on the cut grass of the hospital’s grounds. Its back door was open, and men in mechanic’s overalls poured out. They held wrenches and ropes, spreading themselves out like a fan. The agency was calling out everyone to recapture him.

They were still yards behind him. Nate might have lost his immediate cover, but he could still keep the building between them.

He broke into a run again and rounded the corner of the huge brick structure. His feet didn’t hurt so much on the open grass, so he ran full tilt. Fresh air flowed through his hair. The sun seemed to invigorate him.

Nate dove into the orchard behind the hospital. A few patients were there in their cotton gowns, and orderlies in white suits like Jim walked alongside them. They all looked up at Nate. Someone gave a shout, and each of the orderlies ran after him.

Great, Nate said in his mind, not wanting to waste the breath to say it aloud.

He pressed on, running as fast as he could through the trees. They had all been planted along straight lines, making it difficult for the orderlies to come at him from anything but a right angle. Nate himself had a straight bead on the wrought-iron back fence. Beyond that was the dense woods, where he knew he could lose them.

An orderly with enormous muttonchops jumped in front of him. He lowered himself on his haunches and held his arms out as if he were herding chickens. “Easy there, boy. We’re going to—”

Nate didn’t let him finish. He charged straight at the man and leaped just as he approached. The orderlies had spent their days catching patients who avoided them. Judging from this orderly’s huge, bewildered eyes, Nate suspected he didn’t imagine Nate would try to go right over him.

Nate’s right foot landed on the man’s thigh, and he planted his left one between the orderly’s muttonchops. While the orderly let out a yell of surprise, Nate leaped again, over the man’s back and once more onto the soft grass.

The fence wasn’t far now. As he approached, it seemed to grow higher and higher. Nate had imagined he would jump it or climb over, but he doubted he could even get his hands up between the more-than-decorative spikes on top. There were gaps between the metal posts, but they were a few inches wide at most, enough for a handhold, but he doubted he could get his legs up and over.

He decided he could follow the fence around to the corner and use both sides to clamber up. As he came out of the orchard and into the open space before the fence, he turned right.

“Wrong way!” a voice called.

Nate stumbled. He regained his footing and looked behind him down the fence.

It was the nurse. Her dress was covered in blood. She furiously worked her hands on a section of the fence. Something clanked, and she pulled a section of iron loose. Rusty hinges wailed.

“Gate,” Nate mumbled to himself between gasps. He jumped back into a run toward her.

The nurse ran through the gate first. Nate followed her a second after. As he passed, he grabbed hold of the iron and slammed it shut. The nurse jumped back to the gate and thrust the key back inside. She wrenched it.

Nate took a step back and panted for breath.

“Come here,” the nurse said.

Nate blinked, but took a step toward her.

She grabbed him by the arm, then she hitched up her skirt and brought her boot up high. She threw herself into him, and Nate barely kept his balance. The nurse planted her boot firmly on the ringed edge of the key. A horrid screech came from inside the lock, and the key dangled, bent.

The nurse looked up at him with a sly smirk. “Now they can’t unlock it.”

He smiled as widely as he could at her. There really was something about this nurse. What was her name again? Bossie?

An orderly slammed into the fence. “Nurse Ozzie! What are you doing?”

Ozzie, right.

“There’s something not right about this whole business, George,” she said. She looked up at Nate again. “I have to help this man.”

Nate could have married her right then.

More orderlies piled up. Ticks and his hunchbacks stopped a few yards back. Ticks’s black mustache twitched. Behind them, the airship crew waved wrenches and shovels over their heads.

“Take him alive!” Ticks ordered. “I want to see how he survived the fall!”

Biggs grabbed Parvis by his long arms. He spun like a hammer-thrower until the little hunchback’s legs lifted off the ground.

“Oh no,” Nate mumbled.

After a few more turns, Biggs let go, and Parvis flew into the air over the fence. He crashed into some branches and hit the ground with a plop. Biggs marched toward the fence with his hands still raised. It wouldn’t be hard for someone his size to climb over.