by Lee Goldberg
There hadn't been bodies though. Not yet, anyway. This must have been a raiding sortie, not a battle. This was one side destroying the other's supply lines so there could be no retreat.
The bodies started when they turned onto Main Street. There was ditch that ran along one side of the road. It had been filled with corpses, as if someone had come by with a snowplow and shoved them all in. They were mostly men, but Matt could see a woman's delicate hand, covered in blood and torn flesh, sticking up between two faces. A disembodied head crowned the pile; one ear had been chewed away. Matt thought it must have been Ezekiel Vetch.
There was no way to tell how many people had died, how many homes destroyed. Matt knew how many more would be gone if his plan didn't work. All of them.
He didn't dare look over at Mouse as they came up Main Street. He didn't want to see the hate burning in her eyes. And he didn't want to give her the chance to explode at him, to break away and give up what they had planned.
They stopped when they reached the front door of the general store. Mouse stood absolutely still, looking at the building with hate so strong he thought it might knock down the structure on its own. Then she called out in a cool, clear voice.
"Orfamay Vetch, or whoever now leads the Vetch family if Orfamay is dead, this is Mary Elizabeth Gilhoolie. I stand here under the white flag of truce and ask for parlay."
For a long moment nothing happened. Maybe all the Vetches are dead, Matt thought. Maybe this war is already over.
Finally the front door cracked open. Matt saw a flash of eyeball behind it, and then the door swung all the way. Orfamay stepped out onto the porch. Her bonnet had been replaced with a soiled, bloody bandage that wound around her head. Her right hand was gone, another dirty bandage wrapped around the stump where it had been.
"You here to beg for brother Vern's life?" Orfamay croaked. "If so, that flag's a waste of a white sheet that could have been used for bandages."
"Vern?" Mouse said.
Orfamay moved out of the way and the giant stepped out next to her. In his left hand he held up what Matt first thought was a heap of dirty rags and used bandages. Only when he shook it and the bundle let out a moan did Matt realize it was Vern Gilhoolie.
Vern's face had been pounded so long and so hard that even the strong Gilhoolie genes couldn't make the features look like anything but heaps of ground meat. His hair had been torn out with such force pieces of his scalp were missing. His fingers were smashed and twisted beyond recognition; there were nail holes through his feet.
"You bitch," Mouse said. "I should kill you."
"Should have done that first, sweetie," Orfamay said. "Someone takes off my hand, I just get mad."
Matt could feel Mouse moving toward the door, drawn by a force of hate stronger than gravity. If he couldn't pull her back, the fighting would start all over again. And never stop until they were all dead.
"We're here under the flag of truce, and with your girl as evidence of our good intentions," Matt said. That was supposed to be Mouse's line, but she didn't seem capable of saying the words just yet.
"Am I supposed to swoon away in a fit of gratitude?" Orfamay said. "That cow has been tainted by Gilhoolie flesh."
"We could have fucked her to death with this axe and sent her back in pieces," Mouse said. "If that's what you want, we can do it right here in the road."
"Big tongue for such a little mouth," Orfamay said. "Especially when there are fifty Vetches still in fighting fit ready to take you out right now."
Matt could see movement behind her in the store. He couldn't count the bodies, but there were a lot of them, and they were straining to come out.
There was a bang from across the street. Matt turned to see that the diner doors had been thrown open and dozens of Gilhoolies were spilling into the street.
The war was about to start again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
"The truce still holds," Matt said sharply, before the assembled Gilhoolies could start across the street. "For both sides."
"For the moment," Orfamay said. "But all this parlay wears me out. You got something to say, say it fast."
Mouse took a deep breath and held it. Matt waited. This was the moment everything depended on.
"Orfamay Vetch," Mouse said, then broke off.
"You get ten more seconds, girl," Orfamay says. "Then I tell Tiny here to start breaking off one of your brother's fingers for every second you make me wait."
The giant grinned at that.
"Orfamay Vetch," Mouse said, and this time the words came tumbling out. "Since my brother is a prisoner, I am the acting head of all the Gilhoolies and the Hogginses, too. And in that role, to you and to all the Vetches and Runcibles who are now or who ever have been, I have come to apologize for all the harm we have ever done you."
There were gasps from inside the store. Across the street, a confused muttering arouse, as Gilhoolies tried to determine if they'd heard what they thought they did.
Orfamay peered at her closely, as if looking for evidence of trickery. "Am I supposed to fall down in gratitude for those words, girl?" she said finally. "And then let you stick a knife in my ribs when I'm down on the ground."
"I don't give a fuck what you do," Mouse said. "I've said what my family needed to say. And now we're done fighting forever. You can do whatever you want. We're out."
Now the confusion from the other side of the street was gone. In its place was an angry murmur. Mouse whirled around to face her relatives. "We've lost too much for too long," she shouted to them. "We are done. Now one of you get up there and cut my cousin's body down. He's going to have a proper funeral."
Mouse started to walk back across the street. Orfamay's hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back. "You think you can just stop this feud all on your own?" she hissed. "Blood goes back generations."
"And ends with this one," Mouse said.
"You think this pathetic excuse for a lawgiver's going to protect you, he's the first one going down," Orfamay said.
"He's not our lawgiver," Mouse said. "There's only one law for the Gilhoolies from here out. No more fighting."
Orfamay studied her carefully. "It's not going to work."
"I told you, there's nothing to work or not work," Mouse said. "It just is."
Matt felt a swelling of pride. This girl, or this woman who was stuck in a girl's body, had just stood up to endless years of bloody tradition. And he had led to her this point. Killing Joan had been nothing compared to this.
"Almost," Orfamay said, a thoughtful tone creeping into her voice. "It's almost enough."
"I don't have anything more to give," Mouse said.
"This fight didn't start between families," Orfamay said. "It was a cause between two individuals, one Vetch and one Gilhoolie, over a piece of land. The others were all dragged in. We need to finish this the way it started. Then it can end."
Mouse froze, then turned back to Orfamay. "The two family leaders?" she said. "We fight it out, and then everyone else is out forever."
Orfamay chuckled and held up the stump where her hand used to be. "I'm not at full strength, girl. Neither is your leader." She gave the giant a sign, and he dropped Vern to the ground in a heap. "We each choose our champion."
Mouse looked uncertain. "And then it's over? Whoever wins?"
"And then it's over." Orfamay raised her voice so she could be heard by everyone in the store and on the street. "Whoever wins, the fight is over."
Mouse looked at Matt, but turned back before he could offer his opinion. "I'll fight for our side."
Orfamay broke into a wide grin. "And my petite nephew will fight for ours."
The giant held up his hands as if the victory was already his.
Mouse paled. Matt pulled her aside. "You can't do this," he hissed. "You'll be killed."
"And the others will be free forever," Mouse said. "As they would have been years ago. You're the one who told me that, remember?"
He did. At ever
y stage he had made a choice, and while they all seemed to be the right ones at the time, they had led inexorably to this point. To the brutal death of this woman who had shown so much courage.
Orfamay spoke out to the crowds again. "These are the terms: We will have one fighter from the Vetch family and one from the Gilhoolies. Whatever happens, this ends our feud forever. Does anybody object?"
There was silence from the crowd. And then Matt stepped up to the porch. "I object," he said. "If you set Vetch against Gilhoolie, the hate will go on forever no matter what you say in advance."
Orfamay sneered at him. "Do you have a better suggestion, lawgiver?" she said.
"I do," Matt said. "I will fight in her place."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The rules were simple: two men start, one man finishes.
Matt and the giant faced off against each other in the center of Main Street. Matt clutched his axe; the giant held a curved blade so large it must have come from some kind of harvesting machine. The sides of the street were packed with Vetches and Gilhoolies, each sticking with their own people. Mouse and Orfamay stood together on the porch in front of the general store, the girl he he'd rescued cowering behind them.
Matt took one step toward the giant. "We don't have to do this," Matt said. "We can set an example for both families. Just set down our weapons and walk away."
The giant thought this over. "I can set down my weapon," he said finally. He dropped his blade on the ground.
Matt allowed himself a sigh of relief. He'd had his share of fights before, but he'd never even seen anyone this big, let alone tried to battle him. And even if he fought and won, what would be the point? The big man would be injured or dead and how would anyone be better off?
But the giant wasn't done yet. "I don't need a weapon." Before Matt could drop his axe, the giant reached out and grabbed him in his enormous palms. He raised Matt above his head and threw him down on the asphalt.
Matt landed hard on his shoulder, his left arm going numb from the impact. The axe flew out of his hand. He felt his clothes, then his skin tearing away as he skidded down the road.
Somehow the giant got ahead of him before he came to a stop. He put out one massive foot and stomped. Matt could hear his ribs crack. He let out a strangled scream.
"I am a weapon," the giant crowed. He bent down and picked Matt up again. He didn't throw him this time. Instead he held Matt off the ground with one hand, then slapped him across his head with the other. It was like being hit by a steamroller.
For a moment, everything went black. When Matt's eyes worked again, what he saw was the asphalt rising toward him. While he was out, the giant had hurled him back in the other direction.
Matt threw up his arms to protect his face and landed on both wrists. Jagged bolts of pain shot up through his wrists. He tried to get up, but as soon as he was on his knees, one of the giant's boots slammed into his stomach, sending him flying back down the street, his head bouncing off the asphalt.
Matt gasped for breath and felt blood filling his mouth. He spit it on the ground, where it merged with all that had spilled from Vetch and Gilhoolie the night before. He was one of them now, another victim or, increasingly unlikely, another victor in this endless war.
Was this why Mr. Dark had sent him to Heaven? To show him that's all he ever was, just another faceless combatant in a conflict that would never end? Or just to get him caught up in a fight that didn't matter so he'd forget about the one that did?
There was a skittling noise on the ground and Matt felt something hard hit his hand. It was the handle of his axe. One of the spectators had kicked it to him.
Matt grabbed his weapon and felt a strength flowing through him. It was nothing magical. The axe was no Mjolnir and he couldn't be further from godhead. But it was him. He was whole.
Matt looked up and saw the giant standing over him again, one mighty foot raised in the air, ready to bring it down on his skull and smash his brains out on the ground.
As the foot came down, Matt rolled out from under it. The foot slammed into the ground and Matt thought he could feel the vibration through the asphalt. The giant wheeled toward him, lifting his foot.
Matt saw exactly what he had to do. He lashed out with the axe, striking just under the giant's kneecap. The giant let out a howl of pain, but Matt didn't stop. He brought the axe straight up, slamming it between the giant's legs. The giant doubled over, clutching his groin. Matt jumped to his feet, ignoring the screaming pain from his ribs, and brought the axe down on the back of the giant's head.
The giant tumbled to the ground, one hand on his groin, the other on the back of his neck.
"You would be dead right now," Matt said to him, "if I'd used the blade instead of the butt."
Matt became aware of a chanting from the Gilhoolie side of the street. "Kill him. Kill him. Kill him."
And then realized with a shock that the chant had spread to the Vetches as well, as they urged him to finish off their own champion.
"Is that what you want?" Matt said to the giant. "Do you want me to kill you? Or do you yield?"
The chant grew louder. Matt could see the giant's lips move, but he couldn't hear the words over the shouting. Matt put his ear to the giant's lips.
"I want to live."
Matt turned to the crowd. He held up his axe, and they fell silent.
"It's over," he said. "It's all over."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The road curved down the mountain in front of him. Matt walked slowly toward the switchbacks that led away from Heaven. He was feeling pain now, but he knew that would ease as his body healed.
He couldn't tell if the people of Heaven had been sorry to see him go. He hadn't stuck around to find out. What he'd seen at the very end had filled him with such disgust he couldn't bear to stay another second.
It had been while the giant was down on the ground and Matt was waiting to see if he'd yield. The whole crowd had been pumping their fists into the air, calling for the giant's death.
And on the porch of the general store, Mouse and Orfamay had been united in bloodlust, calling for Matt to murder the Vetch champion. And the girl he'd rescued, the girl who had been stunned into shock by the violence that had been done to her and her lover, was yelling with them.
He'd done what he could. He got them to agree to peace after so many years of war. The looks on the faces of both family leaders told him they might be killing each other again soon.
Or maybe not. Maybe he really had made this place better than it was before he got there.
As he passed beyond the town limit, a thick fog had come down and settled over Heaven and blocked it from his view. When the fog lifted he wasn't even sure the town would be there anymore.
What he did know was that he wouldn't be around to find out.
Matt made the turn around the first switchback, heading for the highway and never looking back.
THE END…
…But Matt Cahill will return in
THE DEAD MAN #4: THE DEAD WOMAN
by David McAfee
If you enjoyed HELL IN HEAVEN, you don't want to miss THE DEAD MAN #4: THE DEAD WOMAN by David McAfee, the next novel in the DEAD MAN saga. Here are the first two chapters…
CHAPTER ONE
A bump in the road jolted Matt awake just in time to read the sign welcoming him to Crawford. He checked the road atlas in his duffel. The dim light in the cabin of the GrayLine bus made it difficult to read, and the fact that the driver seemed determined to ride over every pothole in the fucking road didn't help. After flipping through a few pages, he came to Tennessee. Then, just as he'd done back in Nevada when he bought his ticket, he ran his finger along Interstate 30 until he found the tiny speck that represented the town.
Crawford, TN. Population 5,421. At the time, it was as far as he could get on the money in his pocket. From here he'd have to walk. At least until he could find a few days' work to put more cash in his hand. Then he'd buy another ticket and g
o...somewhere. He didn't really know where yet. Mr. Dark didn't exactly leave a forwarding address.
The drive from Nevada had been long, but he was able to get some sleep, even if the seats in the bus weren't very comfortable. At least it was cheaper than a motel, which he couldn't afford anyway. He'd have to find something, though. A town the size of Crawford probably didn't have a Y.
The bus pulled into town just as the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, slowing down in what passed for Crawford's downtown district. A few buildings here and there rose to three or four stories, and an aging brick post office stood next to a silver, Fifties-style diner on the left side of the street. On the right, the courthouse sat in the middle of a large, manicured green lawn. The white concrete building was the most modern thing he'd seen in the town so far, and sported an entire floor of tiny barred windows. Like a lot of small towns, Crawford's jail must be located right inside the courthouse.
Convenient.
The bus pulled up to the courthouse and stopped. The hiss of brakes accompanied the metallic squeal of the vehicle's door as the driver opened it to let Matt out.
"Here?" Matt asked.
The driver - a chunky, balding man who looked eighty but was probably much younger - smiled, showing Matt a handful of discolored teeth amidst his brown, swollen gums. "Ain't no terminal in Crawford, son," the man said. "Too small. Courthouse is the best I can do." With that, the driver grabbed a clear plastic bottle, brought it to his lips, and spat out a thick brown wad.
Mat stepped off the bus, his duffel bag in hand, and waited for the driver to follow behind him. The driver rose from his chair amidst a a volley of creaks, cracks, and grunts, and stepped off the bus behind Matt.
