Five Days of Darkness

by Greg Hall

  As Modeste held the lifeless body, she began to notice similarities between this girl and Tiara. And for a split second, she felt like she was holding her daughter again. She fought back the tears. There was no time to cry; this trail of carnage needed to end tonight.

  She was startled by a rustling of twigs. She moved her hand from the girl’s lifeless body to the stakes strapped to her leg. She stared, unblinking, in the direction of the sound.

  It dawned on her that this might be a trap. It knew she would follow the scream and try to save the girl. He knew that she would comfort the girl until she passed. Modeste still wondered why it wanted her alive. If it wanted to, it could kill her with ease. He could have done it back when she was vulnerable and basically defenseless.

  She gripped the stake and pointed it toward the sound.

  The rustling continued. This time, it sounded like there was more than one bloodsucker.

  “Modeste?” a familiar voice called out.

  Modeste recognized the voice instantly. She dropped the stake and took a deep breath. She laid the girl down, grabbed her cane, and rose to her feet. She didn’t have to move very quickly, as Henri was already to her. She folded into his arms, and the chaos and stress seemed to melt away. The embrace was sweet, but only lasted a few seconds, as it was interrupted by the Sheriff stumbling through the bush.

  “You’re alive,” Modeste exclaimed.

  “Yes. And I think you had something to do with it.”

  “I wanted to say sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize for anything. I should have listened to you,” Henri said, as he smiled at her. “We can catch up after this is over. Now, we need to find the bloodsucker,” Henri said.

  Modeste heard him call the killer a bloodsucker. A faint smile crossed her face. At times, she had been very wrong about the man, but he seemed like he might be able to learn. .

  “What do we have here?” the Sheriff demanded, standing over the body of the lifeless girl. Modeste reached down to where the stake should have been. In her haste, she had dropped it beside the girl’s body. The Sheriff’s eyes were glued to what he must have thought was the murder weapon.

  Before Modeste could say anything, the Sheriff already had his Browning cocked and pointed at her. Modeste saw the anger in his eyes.

  “The bloodsucker did this. He killed your deputy too.”

  “You keep talking about monsters, and yet you are the only one who has been on scene for each murder.”

  “You’re making a terrible mistake,” Modeste exclaimed.

  This wasn’t the first time she had a gun pointed at her. Over the years, she had many weapons pointed toward her, most accompanied with threats of violence. A few of those moments she had genuinely feared for her life, but eventually, the element of danger had faded. Staring down the barrel now, not only did she think he would do it, but the Sheriff would also revel in her demise.

  “Sheriff, put the gun down. You pull the trigger now, you’ll not only kill an innocent person, but you’ll also be giving the monster time to kill again,” Henri urged.

  “I’m looking at a real monster right here,” the Sheriff countered, then gave a cocksure grin to Modeste, “but hey, if there’s another one out there, I have plenty more bullets to go around.”

  “Bullets won’t do anything,” Modeste said.

  “What?”

  “Bullets can’t kill a bloodsucker.”

  “A bullet to the head makes anything drop dead,” Sheriff Brady said incredulously.

  “I promise you it won’t,” Modeste disagreed, as she removed the remaining stake and held it out for the pair to see.

  “You have more?” Sheriff Brady asked.

  “It’s a stake. It has to be driven through his heart. It’s the only way to make sure it’s dead.”

  Ther Sheriff burst into deranged laughter. Modeste waited patiently for the fit to end. . Surprisingly, he kept his gun aimed the entire time. It shook back and forth, but the barrel pointed at some part of her body during his obnoxious outburst.

  When Modeste looked over to Henri, she noticed his face was filled with concern. He had come so far and, with everything he had seen, this was the part that seemed unreal.

  “Henri. It’s the only way,” Modeste cried.

  “I know. I believe you. I do, but it’s just hard not to be skeptical,” Henri replied.

  ‘Save your skepticism for later. Right now, I need you on my side.”

  Her words snapped Henri’s worry and brought him back. With the Sheriff’s laughter finally subsided, he regained his authoritative stance. Clearly, the Sheriff had every intention of ending her life.

  “You left with Leonard. Where is he now?” the sheriff asked.

  “He ran after the monster.”

  “Right,” the Sheriff said, full of condemnation. “Where is his body?”

  A blood curdling scream gave away the future location of Leonard’s body. It was the same intensity as the poor girl who laid only a few feet away. Modeste instantly knew that they were too late. The bloodsucker took its next victim.

  Another scream cried out so jarring that it caused the Sheriff to jump. His hand clenched the gun. A crack rang out.

  Modeste dropped to the ground.

  39

  Henri’s ears were ringing.

  It was the first time he had been in such close proximity to a gunshot. Judging by the buzz in his ears, he thought it would be awhile until he heard anything.

  Modeste had hit the ground hard. Her cane had fallen to her right, and the stake she had inadvertently tossed several feet behind her. Henri watched in horror as the woman he had grown to love fell to the ground. Everything happened within a couple seconds, and yet it felt like a lifetime. As Henri started towards Modeste, the Sheriff took off in the direction of the scream, smoking gun still in hand.

  Henri tripped over his own feet as he slid down beside Modeste. He gently grabbed her arm and scanned her body. He was expecting to find a pool of blood or the entry wound from the bullet, but her skin was bare. Modeste stared back at him. She was in shock, breathing and still alive.

  “Are you hit?” Henri asked, desperation in his voice.

  “My leg,” was all Modeste could muster. Henri wasn’t sure if her lack of communication was from pain or shock, or maybe she didn’t want to know how bad it was.

  Henri glanced down at her legs. He didn’t notice anything at first, but then he spotted a gash above her right knee. Blood was trickling from a three-inch wound. The bullet had only skimmed her leg. He let out a sigh of relief.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Henri said. “I’m going to cover it and stop the bleeding.”

  “Go. I can do that. You need to stop the Sheriff.”

  “He can wait. You need to help.”

  “Henri. Go. I will take care of this. If you don’t go, the Sheriff will be next. You need to stop the Bloodsucker.”

  “But he just tried to kill you.”

  “Doesn’t mean he deserves to die, Henri. Now, go!” Modeste said as she pushed Henri away. She reached for the fallen stake and passed it to Henri.. “You need this.”

  “Right,” Henri said, as he choked on the next words, “through the heart.”

  “Right through. It’s the only thing that will kill him.”

  Henri held the stake in his hands. It wasn’t as sharp as he expected. He wondered how he was going to plunge this into the chest of the bloodsucker. He didn’t want to think about taking the life of anything, but this wasn’t human. Modeste was most likely right. She had been right more times on this trip than Henri cared to mention, so it was best he listened to her now. As much as he wanted to stop the violence, this was the moment he dreaded.

  The thought of killing brought a wave of nausea. Henri felt sick, much like when he found the Boyds.

  “Modeste, I’m glad you’re okay,” Henri muttered. There was so much more that he wanted to say to her, but he bit his tongue. This was not the time and not th
e place to confess his feelings.

  “Me too. Now, go, Henri. We don’t have much time.”

  Henri looked at her for a moment, wanting her to say more. He hoped she felt the same. Even in this dire situation, Henri still reflected back to the tender moment at the fire. It was an odd feeling he had toward Modeste. He experienced love in his life, but nothing like this. All he wanted now was for her to be safe. There was a reason they were supposed to be together. Divine power made sure they would find each other.

  Maybe this realization would restore his faith.

  Henri turned back to Modeste. He knew she had two stakes. One must have been tossed in all the commotion with the Sheriff.

  “You had two stakes, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I made one for each of us,” Modeste said as she tilted her head to look behind. “It went somewhere back there.”

  “Well, you’re not going anywhere near the monster, you hear me?” Henri insisted, as he scoured the grass for the missing stake.

  “Yeah, sure, Henri,” Modeste said, not sounding convincing.

  “I’m serious. You’re hurt. Just wait here and—”

  “Let the men handle it. One who just tried to kill me, and another who busted out of prison,” Modeste cut in.

  “You know I had nothing to do with it,” Henri said, as he continued to search for the stake. “Found it!” Henri said as he raised the makeshift weapon into the air.

  “Good, go!” Modeste shouted.

  Another chilling scream pulled Henri in the right direction. The scream was definitely not from a woman. A man cried out somewhere in the distance. He hadn’t heard a gunshot, so he knew that the sheriff hadn’t found the monster yet. Or maybe the monster got him first. That wasn’t something that Henri wanted to consider. With Modeste down, and if the sheriff was dead, that meant that Henri would have no one to help him. .

  Henri was quickly approaching the city limits. He spotted one last house on the outskirts. It had a pathway leading into the woods behind it—a perfect place for the bloodsucker to hide or escape.

  It had to be the house.

  Henri approached the house. He held the stake awkwardly in his hand, unsure of the proper way to hold it. All he knew was the pointy end had to be used on the bloodsucker.

  The house was dark. There were no street lamps close by, and the only light was the blue hue from the moon above. The twilight played tricks on Henri’s eyes. Trees were casting shadows that looked remarkably like the monster. Henri thought back to when he cornered the monster and how it had so easily heard him. Henri had been fifty feet from the shack, and the monster still knew he was there. Henri was not yet fifty feet to the house, but he worried that the monster was already listening.

  The click of a hammer on the gun pulling back stopped Henri stopped in his tracks. He paused and held his breath. He didn’t want to look. He wasn’t familiar with guns, but he was pretty sure someone close had cocked a pistol. He couldn’t see where the sound came from, but he knew the Sheriff was close.

  “Welcome, priest,” the voice said, gently lowering the pistol, and releasing the hammer.

  Henri recognized the sheriff’s voice instantly, it was filled with contempt. He also noticed the sound of contempt in the sheriff’s voice. The Sheriff still had not recognized the gravity of the situation. He still thought he could do this on his own.

  The sheriff had been crouched down in the tall grass. He was focused on the same house Henri had noticed. There were no lamps lit inside, and Henri couldn’t help but think how the bloodsucker could be watching them.

  Henri held out the second stake and offered it to the sheriff. The sheriff responded with the flash of his pistol. There was a glare in his eye that Henri found off putting. The sheriff was excited with the prospect that he was going to take a life.

  “Modeste is okay, by the way. The bullet graced her leg,” Henri said.

  “Shame,” the sheriff said, without a hint of remorse, “Next time, I won’t miss.”

  If Henri was a different person, he would choose a different, angered path to deal with the Sheriff. If anything worse had happened to Modeste, Henri would strongly be considering using the stake on two monsters.

  “Did you see it go inside?”

  “I saw some strange being go in there. Something’s going on in there. There’s an exit at the back. You cover the back door, and I will flush him out.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know, stab him with that piece of wood you have there. Whatever you do, keep him close, so when I get out, I can put a bullet between his eyes.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”

  “You got a better one?”

  He didn’t.

  “Wait at the back,” the sheriff repeated.

  Henri listened. He didn’t like the plan, but he was extraordinarily good at following directions. Henri was so used to respecting authority that he had almost hypnotically walked toward the rear of the house. He didn’t think the plan would work, but he wasn’t strong enough to argue with the sheriff. Now Modeste, she would argue with him. Not only would she have confronted him and challenged his schemes. She would have already devised a better plan to stop this monster dead in its tracks. She was confident that she could kill it, even if Henri remained unconvinced.

  Henri approached a door at the back of the house. Even through the moonlight, he could see the splintered wood around the hinges. A cold, crisp air blew right past him, causing a shiver down his spine. Instant goosebumps rose on his skin. Henri paused. He held his breath and listened. It was an eerie sensation, especially because it was such a humid night. Henri looked back to see if the sheriff experienced the same thing.

  Henri couldn’t see the sheriff.

  He heard a loud thump, then another louder thump, in the direction where he had left the Sheriff. He knew the sheriff gave him strict orders to wait at the back of the house, but something was urging Henri back to the grass. The sheriff needed help.

  Henri got closer, and he realized the Sheriff was gone. He wanted to call out for him but didn’t want to alert the monster.

  Henri looked around. The door to the house was still closed, and there was no sign of anyone. If the sheriff was in there pushing the monster out back, he was going to be angry when he learned that Henri wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

  “Sheriff?” Henri whispered into the night sky.

  Henri stepped around the house. He stepped through the grass, lightly pressing his foot down first to make sure not to step on anything that would make a noise.

  Clearly the Sheriff was out of earshot. Henri noticed that the front door remained closed, adn worried for a moment that if the bloodsucker did burst out the back door, Henri wouldn’t be there to help him.

  Henri felt the sensation of someone, or something, watching him. He was a sitting duck in the tall grass. He held the stake tightly and raised it out front of him. He whispered for the Sheriff again, and a sound cried out from an animal behind him. He cowered initially, but realized the sound was coming from far away.

  As Henri stood back up, he took another step forward. His foot landed on something sticky, but his foot almost slipped out from underneath him. He lifted his foot after catching himself. He put it down again, hoping to land on grass, but it landed in the same substance. He lifted his foot again and ran his fingers across the sole of his shoe. The sticky crimson substance spread across his fingers. He held them up to the moonlight, so he could get a better look.

  Panic took over.

  Henri scoured the grass, looking for the source of the liquid. There was a small pooling of blood a few feet in front of him. He followed the blood to an object. Henri took another step toward the object. It took a moment for Henri to realize what it was.

  The head of the Sheriff was staring up at Henri. . A stunned expression spread on its lifeless face. The hollow eyes were staring deep into Henri. Next, Henri saw the rest of the sheriff’s body a few feet from the head.
It was slumped down, blood soaked all over the front of the uniform.

  Henri wanted to scream. He tried to turn and run, but he knew he wouldn’t make it far. The bloodsucker was close, and Henri wasn’t fast enough to escape. There was a reason he wasn’t killed back in Bunkie, and there was a reason the bloodsucker had allowed him to live until now. The only reason that Henri could think of was that the monster saw no threat in Henri. All he had was a torch in Bunkie and was alone, and here, he alone had a stake, whereas the sheriff had the gun.

  The gun!

  Henri surveyed the area. The sheriff’s hands were empty. The holster hanging on his right side was empty. The ground around the body was covered in blood, and nothing else was there. The worst was yet to come.

  The gun was gone.

  40

  It took Modeste almost twenty minutes to get to her feet.

  The pain in her knee was usually unbearable, but gash from the bullet made it even worse. She wrapped it with a torn piece of fabric from her dress. It was already so stained with blood from their past two days that it would never be worn again. She tied the makeshift bandage tight. To her surprise it relieved some of the pain.

  She walked the same direction that Henri had, and wished she had spent more time with him. She wished that she told him how relieved she was that he was still alive. Until the moment she saw him in Cheneyville that moment, she was almost convinced David had hanged him. Right now, she didn’t want to think of what could have been. She just wanted to reunite with him.

  The streets were quiet. Modeste couldn’t believe how empty they were now. The sound of the gunshot that almost tore off her leg, wasn’t enough to coerce folks out of their homes. The streets were deserted. It was an odd sight for Modeste. Only a little while ago, the streets were filled with citizens, and now, there was no soul around.

  The pain in her leg was almost unbearable. She walked even slower than usual. The only thing that took her mind off the pain was the thought of Henri out there alone. She needed to get to him.

  Her determined stride was halted by a gurgle, coming from the grass on her left. She paused and looked toward the noise. She could only hear the quickened beat of her heart. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she caught sight of a hand amongst the grass. The fingers were twitching and stained with blood. Modeste’s eyes tracked the hand to the wrist and up the forearm. The rest of the body was hidden in taller grass.