Five Days of Darkness

by Greg Hall

  None of these people knew her, but they judged her anyway. They glared at her in disgust as if she were a leper, spreading a disease through their community.

  Modeste figured while she had their attention, she might as well address them. “None of you know who I am or why I’m in your town,” Modeste said, hoping she could convince them of the danger that lurked in the night. “But I’m here to stop a monster. A monster that has killed many and will kill many more if I don’t stop it. ”

  Most of the crowd remained silent, unbelieving. There were even a few chuckles. One man, in particular, stepped out from the crowd. He was twice the size of Modeste, and his arms were as thick as Modeste’s waist. He was covered in sweat. Modeste wanted to believe that his sweat was from dancing. A small flicker of hope that he was joyful, rather than violent or aggressive.

  “I think I speak for everyone when I ask what are you talking about?” the man asked.

  “There is a monster poisoning your streets. He has already killed the deputy,” Modeste declared. The remaining chuckles halted.

  “Teddy is dead?” the man asked, appearing concerned.

  “If that was your deputy’s name…”

  “Teddy’ s my brother.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t believe you. Who are you? Where is my brother?”

  “He’s back at the Sheriff’s quarters. I didn’t know what to do with him.”

  “Do with him? You were there when he died? You saw it happen?”

  The crowd seemed to be getting closer to her. Nobody had moved, but Modeste started to feel suffocated by the people surrounding her.

  “He will kill more. We need to find him, before he does it again,” Modeste pleaded.

  “You’re not going anywhere until you take me to see my brother.”

  “I already told you where he was. I can’t help you any more than that. I have to stop the monster before he kills again.”

  “Where’s the Sheriff?”

  “I don’t know. He left me alone in the room.”

  “Was it you?” the man asked but almost instantly retracted the statement after viewing her short height and her hand gripping the cane. “You would never be able to take out Teddy. Take me to my brother.”

  An idea popped into her head. The man was the size of a house, and although she didn’t want to backtrack, at least this man might be able to help kill the bloodsucker.

  “I’ll take you to him if you help me stop the monster,” she bargained.

  “If what you’re saying is true, I will destroy the monster. If you’re lying to me, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

  The intensity of the crowd had faded. The bargain she struck with Teddy’s brother caused the crowd to lose interest. They slowly went back to their tasks, almost forgetting Modeste’s wild accusations. Murder and monsters were less interesting than an unwanted black stranger. Modeste was about to change this man’s life. She worried that he might still suspect her as the killer, but she needed him to continue.

  Modeste led the man away from the town square. He puffed out his chest as if to hide the fact that he was hurting inside. Modeste felt sympathy for him. It was something that was going to stick with him forever.

  She waited for the stranger to offer his name, but he remained silent for the walk. His mind was most likely whirling with the terrible news.

  “Who are you anyway?” the man asked, his voice tinged with sorrow.

  “My name is Modeste.”

  The man stopped in his tracks. His eyes were aimed at the ground. “You the healer?”

  “At one time, yes,” Modeste replied, thinking back to better times. “But I haven’t been a healer in a long time.”

  “I knew your mother, Marie. She helped my father with dysentery.”

  This man wasn’t the first to have a story about Marie. Just like him, many assumed Marie was her mother. She took no offense to it and rarely corrected people, but today, she felt she needed to be precise.

  “She helped many, but she wasn’t my mother. Marie took me in after my mother passed. She taught me everything I know.”

  “She had quite the reputation in these parts. When she passed, it was felt all through the town. I’m sorry for your loss,” the man added. “My name is Leonard.”

  “It’s nice to hear these kind words,” Modeste said. It was the first act of kindness from a stranger this entire trip. And although the gesture was small, it meant everything to Modeste.

  “We have to keep moving, Leonard,” Modeste urged.

  As they made their way to the building that kept Modeste locked away, something was different. There was a chill in the air, and she felt someone watching them, even though no one appeared to be around.

  “Is this the place?” Leonard asked.

  “Yes. Second floor.”

  Modeste looked up to the second floor of the building and felt a chill run down her spine. She questioned bringing Leonard here. In the end, it might do more harm than good. If he became overcome with rage or anger, he would be of no use. Then he too, would be an easy target for the bloodsucker. If was actually going to help Modeste, he needed to have a clear head.

  As they entered the building, Modeste had to hurry to keep up with Leonard. She felt like she wasn’t supposed to come back here. She felt like these actions were a step backwards. The bloodsucker was out there, hunting for its next victim, and she was in the same place she had been hours before.

  They stopped in front of the door, and Modeste hesitated. She didn’t want to enter, worried that maybe the scene would be too much for Leonard to handle.

  “In here?” Leonard asked.

  All Modeste could do was nod.

  Leonard crossed the threshold into the room. It felt like an eternity. Modeste waited and waited on eggshells for a scream, tears, anything! Finally, Leonard popped out and confronted Modeste.

  “There’s nothing in there.”

  Modeste stepped around the door frame and entered the room. The room was almost spotless and looked like no one had been in it. Nothing was out of order. It appeared as though the room had been cleaned. No remnants of Teddy. No signs of blood.

  The head was gone.

  37

  Henri and Sheriff Brady walked down the main road.

  The crowd parted as they passed. It was a strange sensation for Henri. Usually, things like that happen for only two reasons: respect or fear. And from what he observed of the Sheriff so far, respect wasn’t something that came to mind. He’d locked Modeste up in a room, left her like a sitting duck, and showed very little empathy to his young deputy. And as they walked, Henri noticed that most people averted their eyes from the Sheriff.

  The crowds had mostly dispersed for the evening. There was a trepidation that was palpable amongst those who remained. It was as though they had collectively witnessed something that scared them into submission.

  Henri remembered seeing the glow of the fire as he was running to the platform. He remembered hearing the happy cries of children and adults who were enjoying the evening. None of that joy remained now. He assumed that the Sheriff’s presence had something to do with their gloom.

  “Is it true?” a voice called out timidly. Henri couldn’t see where the voice was from the owner sounded like they were trying to be brave.

  At first, Henri and the Sheriff didn’t realize the question was directed at them. Only when they noticed that everyone was staring, did the Sheriff comprehend that the question was for him.

  “Is what true?”

  “Was Teddy murdered?” another voice called out.

  Henri didn’t know Teddy, but he guessed that was the dead deputy back in the Sheriff’s quarter. Henri could tell the question made the Sheriff uncomfortable. From what Henri gathered, Brady was the type of lawman who liked to keep things quiet. Henri was unsure of his motives, but it was either to maintain order, or to keep his information to himself.

  “Where’d y’all hear that?”

&
nbsp; “A black lady came here and told us. Leonard took off with her,” a woman said as she stepped out from the crowd.

  Sheriff Brady turned to Henri. His stare could have burned a hole into Henri’s forehead. If there were a hole that Henri could climb into, he would have taken this moment to jump, just to avoid those eyes.

  “It’s true,” Sheriff Brady said, without removing his eyes from Henri, then turned, puffed out his chest, and addressed the crowd. “A murderer has entered our town. It took Jack’s life. I hoped to do this without your involvement, but please proceed to your homes and stay there. I will find the killer, and once I take its life, our town will be safe again.”

  A silence fell over the crowd. It was so quiet that Henri swore he could hear the breathing of the beast that had chased him along the tracks.

  It took a few seconds, but the people listened. Every citizen obeyed without hesitation. Henri watched astonishingly as the crowds dissipated, and within a few minutes, they all disappeared into their homes. Henri had never seen so many people be so compliant. He realized now that the initial silence in the presence of the sheriff was indeed due to fear.

  “I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that you and the witch have partnered and have been traveling together,” the sheriff said, snapping Henri back to reality.

  “Modeste,” Henri said blankly.

  “What?”

  “Her name is Modeste. She’s not a witch.”

  The Sheriff stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes. Henri was beginning to see why the citizens of Cheneyville were afraid of this man. Just a look could invoke fear.

  “No offense, priest, but what do you know about witches?”

  “Not much, really. I’ve never met one.”

  Sheriff Brady took two fingers and tapped Henri on the forehead. The force caused Henri’s head to snap back, and he took a step back to regain his balance. “She messed with your head. Ain’t none of them clean. Ain’t none of them safe to be around.”

  It took Henri just a second to realize that the Sheriff wasn’t just talking about hoodoo practitioners. Henri witnessed racism and bigotry while practicing in New Orleans, but it was no comparison to the hatefulness he found in the small towns.

  The Sheriff continued to walk while Henri took a moment to collect his thoughts and rub his forehead. The sensation of being tapped on the forehead was both off putting and long lasting. He didn’t like the man, and he needed to ask God to grant him patience.

  “Why do you hate them so much?” Henri called after the Sheriff. Henri swore he could feel the eyes from windows all watching their conversation.

  “Do you forget where you are? You’re too young to remember the war—”

  “So are you. There is no way you fought.”

  “No. Pa did, though. He gave his life to the confederate. He gave his life to protect our lives. Your way of life.”

  “For slavery,” Henri exclaimed.

  Sheriff Brady tossed his eyes to a few stragglers who were tidying outside their homes. Henri knew he was provoking the Sheriff. He could see there was a fire building inside the man. A fire Henri knew he couldn’t fight. He reminded himself that the Sheriff had a gun, which wasn’t something Henri wished to deal with either.

  “Time to pack up. There’s a curfew tonight. Clear the streets,” the Sheriff called out to the few dwindling outside. And like ants racing a flood, the remaining citizens dispersed in a matter of minutes. Sheriff Brady continued to stare at Henri.

  “I don’t take issue with visitors coming to our town, staying for a bit, bringing some cash and spending it, but what bothers me is the men who forget where they came from.”

  “You don’t know where I came from.”

  “You born in America?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you forget your life was built by slavery. Now you condemn the hand that fed you?”

  “There’s no humanity in slavery,” Henri said, then added. The war was over fifty years ago,” about to raise his tone.

  “And yet, we never stopped fighting,” Sheriff Brady responded with haste. He took a step closer to Henri, using his stature to try and intimidate Henri. “The war was not just ‘cause of slavery. We didn’t and we don’t want to be under their control. The south will rise,” his voice filled with anger and hate.

  “I’m going to find Modeste on my own.”

  “I’m not letting you outta my sight. The three of us are going to get to the bottom of this. No matter what. Hopefully by the end of this, Cheneyville will have fewer visitors,” Sheriff Brady said with a self-satisfied laugh.

  A scream interrupted their conversation.

  “Modeste,” Henri whispered to himself.

  Henri couldn’t be sure it was her, but he knew that she would be involved with the commotion no matter what. He had to get to her, and maybe lose the Sheriff in the process.

  “That your witch?”

  Henri opened his mouth to respond, but he saw the Sheriff had already pulled out his gun. Henri’s preemptive worry about the Sheriff’s stability was becoming more validated.

  Henri was worried about the bloodsucker because he knew what it could do. The Sheriff evoked a whole nother type of fear. He was angry, hateful, and unpredictable. He was hungry for vengeance and had the ability and power to make people suffer.

  Henri couldn’t decide what was worse.

  38

  “Where is he?”

  Leonard’s question startled Modeste. It wasn’t the tone. It was the only noise to break the silence that had persisted over the last few minutes. She watched as he paced back and forth through the room, wringing his hands, lost in his thoughts. He was probably trying to determine if she was lying and what to do next. He most likely wondered what to do with the woman who apparently lied about his brother’s death.

  Modeste was confident that the bloodsucker was playing with her. He must be somewhere close, watching the events unfold. Although it seemed to be a lot of trouble to go through, just to taunt her.

  “I don’t know. His head was right there,” Modeste finally replied, pointing to an area in the center of the room. There were no remnants of the crime. No blood stains. Nothing to prove that the deputy was dead, let alone had been killed here.

  “I’m taking you to the sheriff,’ he said, as he took a step toward her.

  Modeste was out of ideas. There was nowhere to go. Even if she could run, he was strong, in shape, and at least twenty years her junior.

  Modeste thought about the stakes that were clinging to each leg. It might be her only option. She reached down to left leg as Leonard approached. Their eyes were locked.

  “Please,” Modeste pleaded, but Leonard didn’t stop. His fists were clenched, and his anger radiated from his body.

  Modeste removed the stake and pointed it towards Leonard, stopping him in his tracks. He was startled at first, but it didn’t last. Once he laid his eyes on the small weapon, he chuckled.

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  “Protect myself.”

  The sun had finally fallen below the horizon and the room was almost cast in darkness. Modeste had shook as she gripped the stake as hard as she could.

  Leonard stepped towards her, a scream in the distance caused him to freeze.

  “It’s the monster. He must have gotten another victim.”

  Leonard looked out the window and back to Modeste. “The only monster is standing in this room.”

  “Come with me. I’ll prove it. It’s the same monster that killed your brother,” she pleaded.

  “Shut up!”

  His demand was so forceful it caused Modeste to shudder. She continued to point the stake toward him, unsure if she convinced him to go with her.

  “You heard the scream. Whoever it was, they need our help.”

  Leonard lowered his defenses. “Fine.”

  Modeste exhaled. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath, and now she just couldn’t get enough air.<
br />
  Modeste sat with a dying girl in her arms.

  Her throat was slit from below one ear and stopped at the other. The poor girl wasn’t going to be alive much longer, and Modeste wanted to give her whatever comfort she could for those remaining moments. The blood poured from the wound and covered Modeste’s dress. It soaked into the ground and was already absorbing into the dirt. A few moments later, the girl was gone.

  When Leonard and Modeste arrived on scene, she heard the sound of what she thought was someone choking. It wasn’t until she noticed the girl lying in the grass; hands desperately grasping her own throat that she realized something terrible had happened. The patch of grass was twenty feet from the jail, and Modeste knew the bloodsucker was close, maybe even watching them from a distance.

  The moment Leonard saw the dying girl, he didn’t hesitate. He was finally convinced by what Modeste had tried to tell him. He didn’t wait around to help, he took off into the night like a brute. Modeste had shouted warnings to him about the bloodsucker, but he didn't want to listen. Modest guessed that he must have believed the news about his brother, and now wasn’t thinking clearly.

  The bloodsucker was getting sloppy. She wasn’t sure why he had suddenly diverted from his previous routine. The last two killings showed he didn’t even want their blood. In the eyes of a monster, blood was a precious resource, not something to be wasted.

  This poor girl died for nothing.