New Title 1 (7 page)

“
He’s right,” Henson agreed. “The army can handle this mess a lot better than we can!”

“
No,” Nathan said in a tone that left no room for disagreement. “They’ll just be killed. Or worse, transformed into more of those things like the one we saw back at the Green estate. Besides, who knows how far his plague will have extended before they could even get here. He has to be stopped now and we’re the only ones close enough to put an end to him.”

“
One of those things killed three of us. How many do you reckon’ are in that town down there, Nathan? A dozen? Fifty or more?” O’Rouke asked.

“
We need help,” Louis interjected as he patted his empty jacket, showing what remained of the posse that he didn’t even have a gun, to make his point clear. “I mean, not all of us are even armed, and none of us are trained soldiers.”

“
I’d wager there’s only one man still alive in all of Reaper’s Valley at the moment. And I assure you, he can’t give us the kind of help you’re wanting,” Nathan said with a sigh.

Buck scratched at the gray and greasy hair under his beat up hat. “There’s the Presley farm off to the east yonder. Maybe the folks there are still breathin’. I know Robert has some hired hands who can handle themselves pretty well. If they’re still alive, they could help us. I also heard he’s got some dynamite he’s been using to clear the rest of his land with. Having some of that might go a long ways toward helping us stop this fellow you say is causing all this ruckus.”

“
Alright,” Nathan relented, acknowledging the wisdom in the others’ arguments. “We’ll pay them a visit before we head into Reaper’s Valley. But one way or the other, we are going down there because he has to be stopped. Understand?”

Eighteen

Robert Presley poked at the corpse lying in the doorway of his barn. The damned thing had torn up every horse he had and killed both of his hired men to boot. It’d taken over a dozen shots to bring the thing down. He didn’t have the faintest idea what in the devil the creature was. It had the shape of a man and wore blood-drenched clothing torn and worn out to the point of being rags. A chill ran through him as he thought about how its yellow eyes had burned at him as if he were nothing more than food to be gobbled up. They had been full of hate, too—a hate so strong he had felt it in his bones as the thing had looked him over.

“
Robert?” Jessica placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him away from the dead body. He could tell she was scared and worried, and she had every right to be.

He ignored her as Gary knelt beside him and the corpse. “It ain’t breathing no more, pa.”

Robert shoved Gary to his feet. “You get away from it now, son,” he ordered. “No point in taking a gamble. Go and get some oil. We’re gonna burn the thing while we can.”

The damage the vicious monster had done was overwhelming and it weighed heavily on Robert. The horses it had killed and feasted upon were his livelihood. He had been planning on auctioning them off come Fall, and that money was supposed to have seen his family through the winter. Now the horses were gone and his help was dead. There wasn’t gonna be any money when the bank came to collect on its loans.

“
Robert,” Jessica said again, more sharply.

“
Quiet, woman,” he barked harshly, pushing her from him. “Can’t you see I am trying to think? You better be grateful Gary ain’t dead, too. Poor Mathew and Harold didn’t stand a chance against that thing. If I hadn’t got here when I did...” Robert let his words trail off.

“
Got the oil, pa,” Gary yelled as he came running from the barn with a tin container swaying in his hands.

“
Pour it all over that thing, son. I want it to burn fast and hot.”

When Gary was done, Robert produced a match from his cigarette case and struck it against the calloused pad of his thumb. He tossed it onto the thing’s body. The creature lit up with a “pouff” noise as the flames sprang to life on its green, leathery flesh. They all stood watching it burn as its meat crackled and popped from the heat, releasing the stench of brimstone into the air.

“
Pa,” Gary said, “you don’t think there’s more like it coming, do you?”

Robert flew into his son’s face, so angry he felt like busting the boy’s skull open. “What in tarnation would make you think such a thing? I ain’t never seen anything like it in my life and I likely won’t ever again. Whatever it is, son, I don’t think it was meant for this world.”

“
I didn’t mean nothing, pa,” Gary whispered.

Robert got a hold of himself. “Make sure you burn their bodies, too,” he gestured at the remains of Harold and Mathew. “We ain’t gonna have time to bury them proper.”

“
Yes, sir,” Gary nodded as Robert turned his back on his son and started towards their house.

Nineteen

Pastor Gregory held the cross on the chain around his neck tightly as another of the things outside made a run at the church door. The creature wasn’t any more successful than the one before it. Its thick, leathery skin began to smolder and smoke before it was able to touch the church.

The demon winced in pain but forced itself on. It reared back a hand and punched the wood of the door, splintering the door’s frame as its hand burst into flames. Flinging its burning hand about wildly, it retreated and fell, rolling in the dirt.

There were a total of five of the monsters prancing and skulking around the church, searching for a way inside to get at him. Pastor Gregory knew they wanted his soul. The things reminded him of old paintings of the possessed he had seen as he had studied to become a man of God. He wondered if the rapture had come and he had been deemed too sinful to be taken into the kingdom of Heaven to meet his Lord.

Surely, he thought, there could be no other explanation for the spirits of Hell being loosed upon the Earth as the end of days begun.

Whatever they were, demons or evil spirits, they appeared unable to venture onto holy ground. He was safe as long as he stayed inside the church’s walls.

At least, he prayed that was the case.

With every attempt the monsters made, they seemed to get a tiny bit closer to forcing their way within the hallowed walls. The most disturbing thing was he recognized some of them from his flock. One of the demons wore a brightly colored dress that belonged to Mrs. Wessel. He knew the woman and her vivacious clothing well. She wore it to his services every Sunday morning as it was the best she owned and could afford no other.

Another of the creatures wore the remains of a pair of snake skin boots and a stained, gray vest that strongly reminded him of Mr. Ford, the town’s pious barber.

Pastor Gregory closed his eyes and whispered a prayer that the souls of his faithful followers were safe with the Lord and these things only wore their flesh over their demon spirits. His focus quickly returned to his own survival, however, as one the creatures’ clawed hands smashed through a window near him.

He flinched from the heat as the part of his attacker’s body that had forced its way inside the church was incinerated in a flash of fire and light, leaving nothing more than ash drifting to the floorboards.

With his faith in the protection of the Lord restored, his mind turned to more practical matters. He had very little food tucked away. He usually ate in town as he spent most of his time visiting his flock and spreading the word of God among the wicked as best he could.

There was even less water, perhaps a single pitcher which remained from tending the strange visitor he’d received the night before.

He hoped the monsters would eventually tire of their failing efforts and return to where ever they’d come from, but that seemed unlikely.

One of the things had died trying to get in and its death did nothing to deter the others. For almost an hour, as best he could guess, their assault was nothing short of relentlessness. Pastor Gregory doubted they would ever leave without claiming him, body and soul, unless something beyond his knowledge called them home or help arrived to drive them away.

He sighed and walked to stand below the altar, finding an unexpected state of peace washing over him. Pastor Gregory got to his knees and bowed his head. His trusted the Lord and the Lord would provide.

Twenty

M ichael and Beth rode hard, pushing their horses to the limit, though neither of them knew exactly where they were headed. The only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between themselves and Reaper’s Valley as possible.

When the frantic pace of their flight finally slowed, Beth paused to get her bearings. Though she hadn’t traveled much in her life, she had grown up in these parts and knew the landscape well. “Ain’t much out here, but we’re gonna need a place to rest and get some water for the horses when the sun rises.”

Michael’s skill at reading folks for a living tipped him off that he wasn’t going to like what was coming from her mouth next.

“
We need to go back to town as soon as we can,” she informed him.

Michael laughed. “Ain’t nothing on this Earth that can make me do that, lady.” As soon as the words were out, he knew she was headed back, with or without him. “Here,” he said as he drew his pistol, tossing it to her. “You’ll be needing it a bit more than I will.”

“
My pa is in Reaper’s Valley. I could use your help,” Beth pleaded.

“
Sorry about that, lady. I know hopeless odds when I see ‘em.” He paused. “That there Colt has two rounds left in it. Keep one for yourself.”

Michael kicked his horse and rode on without another word. Beth held the gun for a moment and then tore more of her dress to tie the weapon to her waist. Tears burned in her eyes but she held them at bay. She would be strong and she would save her pa, even if all of Hell itself stood between them.

Beth decided that if she was really going to head back to town, it might as well be now. She turned her horse around. The moon hanging in the sky was tainted an unnatural shade of red, and it cast an eerie light across the desert’s sand and rocks as she rode. If she was about to die, she wanted to do it fighting for the ones she loved.

Twenty-One

Nathan and the remains of O’Rouke’s hastily gathered posse galloped onto the Presley farm. A rifle cracked as they approached. Henson yelped as a bullet blew his right shoulder into a bloody splatter of meat and sinew. The young man toppled from his saddle. Buck tried to reign in his horse and dodge the young man’s flailing body, but couldn’t move quickly enough. Everyone heard the sickening crunch as a hoof ended the young man’s life, popping his skull underneath its weight like a rotten melon.

“
Take cover!” Nathan shouted in warning. Another shot came from the house, striking Nathan’s borrowed horse in the neck. Blood sprayed on his face, and he threw himself clear of the mare as it toppled towards him.

Louis and O’Rouke were out of their saddles and crouching behind the short, low cover of a trough. O’Rouke fired a trio of shots at the house with his pistol. Nathan scrambled to his feet and ran across the yard to duck underneath an unhitched wagon bed.

Buck was a goner. The old man gave into the rage of being partially responsible for Henson’s death. He spurred his horse, charging the house, firing as he went. Buck’s Winchester spat rounds into the grass as his horse bolted forward until the rifle clicked empty.

He was rewarded by a satisfying cry of pain. The old man didn’t have time to savor his victory, however, as a third shot from the house punctured his chest squarely in its center and sent him sprawling to the dirt, dead before he hit the ground.

Louis was pale with fear as he huddled beside O’Rouke. “Why are they shooting at us?” he cried.

“
How the devil should I know?” the sheriff spat, leaning against the trough’s rim as he fired at the house. He emptied his gun, and then ducked back to reload.

“
You, in the house!” Nathan yelled at the top of his lungs. “Hold your fire!”

A sobbing voice answered, “You just killed my ma!”

Another voice screamed, “Shut up, boy, and keep firing! We gotta keep ’em pinned down less we want ’em getting in here!”

Nathan sighed. Buck’s vengeance had determined the outcome of this battle with an unlucky shot, murdering the woman. There would be no reasoning with the folks in the house now. He glanced at O’Rouke and signaled that he was making a go for it. “Cover me!” he ordered the surly sheriff.

O’Rouke hopped up, his hand flying on the hammer of his pistol. Five shots boomed, smashing into the front porch, near the house’s windows, as Nathan rolled from under the wagon and bolted for the house. He quickly saw that both of their adversaries were on the first floor, firing through the open windows. A teenager with a rifle in his hands took aim at him as he ran.

“
God forgive me,” Nathan prayed and squeezed his pistol’s trigger, aiming on the fly. His bullet slammed into the teenager’s forehead and the young man dropped from Nathan’s sight below the sill of the window where he had stood.

“
Gary!” a rougher, more callous voice wailed. Nathan reached the house, crashing into its wall from the force of his speed. He flattened himself against it, hoping he was out of the man in the house’s field of fire. “Last chance!” Nathan yelled. “Stop this madness or I will!”

The man’s Winchester barked another shot at where O’Rouke and Louis hid behind the trough. O’Rouke grunted as the bullet hit its top, splicing the wood and sending splinters tearing into his cheek.