The Curious Case of Jacob's Hallow

by Patrick Walsh

  “That would be ideal...but if that witch gets the gauntlet...then we will do whatever it takes to make sure she doesn't leave that town.” His hand fell to his sword. “No matter the cost.”

  Chapter 23: The Battle for Jacob’s Hallow

  They were here.

  Reports were coming in on all channels, all networks. The ships had made landing, raining down cannon fire on the crumbling town. Their path of destruction was not merely confined to the churning harbor. Each one lay fused to the back of a crablike sea beast, allowing them to storm ever further inland. The people had minutes until the first of their barricades were blown apart. Yet the behemoths were few in number. The bulk of the army was made from nearly four hundred wights. One by one, they heaved their deformed bodies up from the sea and tore through the streets, destroying all in their wake. The many eyed creatures were with them as well, one of which held the lantern bearer on its back. Even on this night, its unyielding power ruled the shadows and pulled the armies of the dead ever closer to the living. No longer scattered, all the forces in one solid mass, their relentless fear billowed out like an unbreaking wall. They weren’t even in view to most of the citizens, and yet countless droves were fleeing. To where? They didn’t know or could know. All that mattered was getting away from the vile horde.

  Tom stood atop one of the apartments on the east end, hard rains and violent winds threatening to tear him from his post. His telescope was practically useless as he tried to scout out the army's movements, the fog as thick as a glacier. Not one of the shambling horrors could be seen, but they could be felt. Their malice, even from this far away, was palpable. It was like millions jagged, slithering nails creeping over his flesh. Each and every one of them trying to bore through to his very spirit. After being bathed in it, hearing many of his fellow citizens on the front lies screaming in agony, he realized that they were all going to die. He didn't have a chance. Gretel didn’t. Aza didn’t. None of them did. They were all going to die here and there wasn’t a single thing any of them could do about it. Part of him wanted to flee to the forest. It was a long shot but perhaps he could find some way to escape. No. He had killed his father, the only real family he had left, over his stupid principals. He would remain here for as long as he could. Report in. Get down. Fight with all he had until the beasts overcame him.

  “Three.”

  Tom spun around, nearly losing his balance and falling to his death. Standing at the peak of the roof was a cheery figure with a large scythe. At first, he had no idea who this stranger could be. Then at once it struck him like the terror of the wights. It was as if Mr. De Vone had shed the last seventy years of his life. He was a young man again, with neither a grey hair nor wrinkle to be seen. His clothes were what he had always worn, except now the hat and coat and been tossed away. What remained sat far less loose on his thin frame, the vest a gothic black. His signature purple scarf sat unfurled and feathered around his neck, while violet dye ran through his black hair. Said hair was pulled into a sideways ponytail with some flipped over the front and nearly covering one of his eyes. Yet, what was most striking was his weapon. It was made from the spine of some long creature, with its jaws clamping down in a shimmering blade that seemed darker than the night itself.

  “Mr. De Vone ...” He stared up in awe, as the magnitude of who he looked upon washed over him.

  “Nah, hun. De Vone was a man with a past who traded his future for a good word in with those on the other side.” He smiled down at Tom, his eyes alight with violet fire.

  “Nibo…” He didn’t know what else to say.

  The loa smiled and slid down the roof, stopping next to Tom. With a single wave of his hand, he dispelled the fog and revealed the army within. “Hmmm, sumthin like three...yeah three lines.”

  Tom popped out his telescope and stared in terror at the army before him. It was breaking into three units. The bulk of the forces stayed their course of destruction, straight through the middle, but two smaller groups were breaking off to the east and west. Each one had nearly one hundred wights and their own battleship. He pulled the instrument away as he looked around in absolute horror. “Can you stop them?”

  “Not all of em. Fact is, I’ve been pushin things pretty far already.”

  “But... you're a loa.”

  He put his hand on Tom’s shoulder and feigned peering out into the night. “Bad phrasing. It is within my power to put an end to all these disgusting little sins against nature, but not in my jurisdiction. Really, I’m not supposed to be here at all...actually let's just keep that last one between us.”

  “I...then what are you doing?” He looked up to the legend before him, afraid yet awestruck.

  “To put it lightly, you all sing my praises far more than any other town in the territory.” He laughed at the thought.“ I came here to see what all the fuss was about and collect on what belongs to me.” He stepped away and gazed out at the piece of the army headed towards them. “Now that I’ve thrown off my little act, it's only a matter of hours before some nosey little lesser god gets a whiff and goes spreadin things. Can’t go into all the details of the bargains and agreements...and what ones I’m breaking...but I can help. Consider the eastern forces dealt with. All you need to do is break that lantern and survive till sunrise.”

  “Ok…” Tom nodded. “We can do that...I hope...but what about the Nightman?”

  “Ha! Oh, kid, it ain't the Nightman that has the lantern now.” He suddenly winked and leaped off the side of the building. The stone shattered on impact as violet flame emerged from all around him. As he strode down the road, humming a merry tune, his skin began to darken.

  Tom was left alone, still stunned. Yet the sound of wights being ripped apart snapped him back to his senses. With new energy, he sped down to the flooding streets. While he traveled the east side, troops were rallying just west of center. Among them were Jack and Desmond. They were one of many crammed into the small apartments on either side of a ramshackle barricade. The plan was to wait until the first of the horde arrived and rush them. Desmond should have been afraid, but he was fueled by a confidence he had not felt in a very long time. He knew who the undertaker truly was and that he believed they had a real shot at winning this. They had talked of loss and of how this whole town would face it, how Desmond had faced it. It was a messy part of life, one that could not be stopped, yet could be held back and controlled. He believed in those words. He would pick up where his master left off once this was all over. He would be instrumental in putting this town back together not unlike so many bodies he had sewn many times before. Yet something else fueled him, something practically billowing from Jack. It was rage. The need to avenge their brother’s death and make damn sure he didn't die for nothing.

  It was Jack who led the bloody charge as the first of the monsters arrived, fighting back the overwhelming terror their forces exerted. He buried his bayonet into the first of the wights as it heaved itself through the wall, taking out another’s hand with an axe, and shooting another in the eye. More citizens followed, seeming to hold the army at bay until the wall began to crack and fracture. When it burst, so did any hope they had for victory. The ravenous swarm ripped through the humans like they were nothing, adding pieces of their victim’s bodies to their own. Jack and Desmond were forced to fall back and head down one of the narrow alleyways just to stay alive. Before they emerged back onto the road, another wight leaped out in front of them. It slammed the two with a blast of its icy terror and began lurching forwards. They were paralyzed, believing this to be the end, but the beast was stopped just before its cold hands could grasp them. Something was burning through its arm while shattered glass littered the ground around it.

  All three looked up to see Mable standing atop one of the apartments, her goggles pulled firm over her eyes and backpack full of her father’s failed trinkets. Many of them were bottles of an acid discovered when he had tried to make juice from the berries growing within his corn. Another of which struck the wig
ht again, eating through its rotting flesh. Her confident expression was soon turned to absolute terror as she felt its song of woe strike her like a snake. The girl screamed and fell, catching herself on the roof’s edge. Yet, she was slipping as her muscles began to lock up. With the fear now spread between three people, all hungry to avenge their brother, its effects began to wane. Both Jack and Desmond broke through its power and charged the thing. One slashing with the axe while the other rammed it through with a fishing harpoon. The screeching horror was driven back and into the chaos within the streets beyond. With it gone, the two quickly looked up, only to see Hesmond pulling their sister back onto the roof.

  “What in the blazes is she doin out here? Yous was supposed to watch her!” Jack shouted through the pouring rain, his voice carrying more than most.

  “She slipped away while we were movin a cannon!” He got the girl back to her feet. “She’s just as slippery as dad.”

  “He told all of us to teach those things a lesson, not just you two!” Despite how confident her words were, she was shaking to the core. The dead walking was never something she thought she would ever be forced to witness, let alone fight.

  “Yeah, well he also said that scarecrows were a good idea! He ain't the best person to take life advice from!”

  As the two went back and forth, Desmond knocked down a loose service latter. The brothers climbed up to meet the others and got a bird's eye view of the carnage around them. All the southmost barricades had collapsed and wights were now pushing inward as those before them were either killed or forced to flee. Explosions smashed through the buildings around them as one of the great ships crawled by, just over a block away. While three of them just wanted to get far away from it, Jack had a better idea.

  “Desmond, come with me!” He then turned and looked Hesmond dead in the eyes. “You two stay on this roof, ya hear me?”

  The twin nodded, but Mable did no such thing. In fact, she knew what her brother was planning and knew just how to do it. While they prepared their next move, Tom was charging through the storm. He flew from the east, all the way back to the northern barricades where Gretel now stood alongside her brother. She was steady as an oak while the torrents of rain poured down and the turbulent winds tore about the overcoat now resting over her dress. One hand held a woodsman’s axe while the other was lodged deep within the master transponder. The plan had been to stay inside and coordinate the defenses from there, but the battleships had a range far greater than any of them could have imagined. Aggie’s shop now lie in smoldering ruin, along with so many other buildings, as the cannon fire rained down. They had two of their own resting near the makeshift barrier, but it wouldn’t be enough. The men at her sides were shaking with fear. They were terrified, her brother was terrified, even the transponder was writhing around in a panicked fit. She couldn’t blame a single one of them. Her whole body was quivering from the cold and the malice the dead exuded. It was like a plague.

  A man atop the building on the left side of the wall suddenly threw down his spyglass. “They were right, it’s all gone!”

  Gretel looked to him and then to her brother. “Why would she get rid of the fog?” Her voice strained to make it to him.

  The huntsman shrugged. “Maybe she wants us to see…” An explosion from nearby rocked the area and drown out his words.

  Gretel was thrown off balance for a moment, but stood firm as she gained her footing again. “I guess that wench and her corpses don’t exactly need it!”

  Hansel nodded, then tilted his head to see a boy sprinting through the haze. Gretel fully turned around just as Tom sputtered to a halt before them, gasping for breath.

  “What are you doin here?” Gretel pointed to the east. “We need you back on the rooftops, what reason could you have for abandoning your post?”

  “The...the transponder networks are overcrowded.” He was leaning on his knees, but slowly pulling himself up. “The army is broken into three.”

  “Aye, lad. You came all the way here fer that!?” She suddenly turned as the sound of grasping limbs on the other end of the barricade became too loud to ignore. They would be over the wall within moments.

  “No....” He straightened up and took a deep breath, shouting as loud as he could for not just her, but all the other men. “De Vone is Nibo! He’s taking down the east side for us!”

  “What?” Her eyes went wider than an angler. All the men, and even her brother, were awestruck by this impossible declaration.

  “It’s true, he’s ripping through them with his scythe right now!” His words were punctuated by a deep roar echoing through the village.

  The spy glasses from the roofs all flew to the new commotion, with each wielder nearly dropping theirs when they saw what had happened. All channels, and even the lookouts just above them, were alight with reports that the eastern ship had fallen. Gretel could only look back to Tom in complete shock. Even if the boy was lying or just mistaken, she had something to motivate her fracturing forces. Word of Nibo spread like wildfire as Gretel passed the message to all that would hear. Though she didn’t know how many had or would even believe it, but it was some small sliver of hope in this vile gloom. As she turned away from Tom, ready to give a new set of orders, the first of the wights began pouring over the wall.

  “Everybody move!” Hansel cried as he dashed forward.

  Fighters poured out from all the streets, buildings, and fortifications around them. Muskets fired and weapons slashed as the wights fear was diluted too thin for any of them to be fully paralyzed. They could still hear its icy song but fought through it with all their might. The first on the front lines dropped like flies in a spider's web as they were ripped to pieces. Yet those behind them hung on and began pushing the vile dead back. Arms, tentacles, claws were all ripped out by makeshift blades as the people of Jacob’s Hallow charged forwards. Gretel wanted to join the fight, but Hansel pulled her back and they began running to one of the other outposts. She was the one who had to keep everyone coordinated and he was the best person to keep her alive.

  The sounds of destruction were all around them as the dead and the living clashed just south of the ally they charged down. All the barricades were under siege, with many of them falling in a matter of moments. Gretel shouted into the transponder as more and more channels went dead. They were losing. None of them had any hope of holding back these monstrosities. Everyone should have either been evacuated or sent to fight underground. Yet even then, what would that yield? The forest would only delay them until the wights had time to catch up and trap everyone. Stay and face a bloodbath, or leave and encounter the same. She hoped more than anything that Aza and Han could beat the witch and put an end to all this. Yet her fears were brought to an abrupt halt as the rooftops around them began to shatter. Both siblings looked up to see a many eyed horror leaping from one chimney to the next on two massive arms. Each impact destroyed the roof beneath and drew it further towards them. The two ran from it, seeing some rider with a fiery blue glow atop its twisted back. Neither could get more than a block before the evil thing soared ahead of them and slammed down onto the cobblestones.

  “Agnis…”

  Gretel could see the rider staring down at her with nothing but pure malice, his fiery eyes glowering down from underneath his crooked top hat. It was not the Nightman. This creature was pale as a ghost and clothed in the very same attire he had died in. Yet something more had been done. There was a metal brace around his neck, with similar implementations stabbed into his arms. His chest was hollowed out and fitted with the lantern, along with bracings resembling ribs to keep it in. It matched the very beast he rode upon, which had a blade covered cage around its head and many rusty appendages. Both siblings could feel the power radiating from his rotten corpse as his steed crept forwards.

  “Barnabee…” She stumbled back as the evil creature drew closer.

  “You...you and those brats were at the boneyard.” His voice was deep and muddled like there was seaw
ater in his throat. “You hired that old fool to kill me!”

  Gretel and Hansel leaped to the side as the beast charged forwards. “Agnis is dead! An ya deserved what you got ya evil bastard!”

  Faster than his sister, Hansel was back on his feet. The scythe spun in an arc and came crashing through the road with a slash of red light.

  The monstrosity screeched in pain as the attack tore into its arm. Yet, it merely lurched back around and charged again. Hansel swung his weapon but had to forgo the full strike. Instead, he sprinted away and the vile steed came around again. He blocked with his scythe but was smashed to the side by one of the massive arms. Before he could get up, the creature brought up its metal pierced fist for the kill, only for it to be distracted by gunfire. A band of thirty or so men came charging into the fray with a cannon being rolled behind them. They were meant to reinforce a struggling barricade, but all were told of the blue lantern and that it took priority over all else.

  While they moved in, Gretel hung back and charged over to the cannon. Manning it was a greasy looking salesman from the main market while six others rolled it along on rusted wheels. She arrived at it just in time for a wave of fear to paralyze all but her and her brother. One, two, five, ten. The monstrosity was crushing and battering the men aside as it maneuvered closer to the only real threat. Yet before it could reach the cannon, another slash of red fired out and hit it in the back. More of their rescuers were trampled into a red paste as it charged at Hansel again.