“Yes,” said Glen. “He’s taken Jenny hostage. He might even kill her, if we don’t get to them in time.”
Before Joe Nickles could question them any further, a muted explosion sounded from behind. They turned their eyes down the steep slope of the mountainside and saw something swooping through the air toward them. It was a huge black bird the size of a small passenger plane. Smoke billowed from its open mouth as it weaved drunkenly over the treetops, trying desperately to keep airborne. But apparently its injuries began to get the better of it. With a long wail of despair, the bird began a steady downward glide and crashed into the heavy forest on the far side of the cratered clearing.
“Let’s check it out,” suggested Nickles, looking as though he doubted his sanity in view of what he had just seen. Glen and Rowdy helped the others across the hole in the pathway. Then they all accompanied the troopers down the slope.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the forest. The black bird had brought down several large oaks with its mighty fall. It lay within a deathbed of ivy and foliage, thrashing and twitching as the last of its life ebbed away.
“Glen!” called a woman’s voice from the edge of the forest.
Glen turned and his heart lightened in relief at the sight of Jenny standing there. He ran to her and her to him. They embraced for a long, quiet moment, simply relishing each other’s presence. Then Glen looked into her eyes. “Lordy Mercy, girl, I was afraid I’d never see you again. How did you get away? Where’s Dellhart?”
Tears of sorrow appeared in Jenny’s eyes as she nodded toward the injured creature. “The Dark’Un took care of him. But it looks like it paid for it with its life.”
As they returned to the others, Dale ran up and joined the two, eyeing the dying creature sadly. Alice stood next to Rowdy, watching the passing of a creature the likes of which science had never dreamt of. She held her knapsack tenderly in her arms, as if she were holding an infant.
They all stood in solemn silence and watched as the Dark’Un went through its violent throes of death. It ran a gamut of incredible transformations, changing form and size with blurring speed. Nickles and his men stepped back a few paces in frightened awe, while the others, who had grown accustomed to the bizarre metamorphosis, watched respectfully. In an unnerving crescendo of crackling, the creature reformed, melted, then reformed again, taking on a myriad of strange images—human beings, dinosaurs, common animals, and even odd interpretations of military vehicles. Then, as it turned its black eyes sadly upon the gathering of albinos, it exhaled its last breath and settled into its true size and form—a yard-long centipede, glossy black in color. With a jerking spasm, it curled into a tight ball, then finally grew still.
Reverently, Lance LaBlanc and his pale brethren approached the body of the great protector. Their sorrow came as it would to any soulful creature. Their throats choked with quiet sobs and their pink eyes brimmed with tears.
Alice found herself also weeping as she watched the pale creatures mourn the loss of the Dark’Un. “They have a good reason to grieve,” she said. “After all, it’s hard to lose a parent.”
“Parent?” Jenny looked around at her in surprise. “Do you mean…”
“Yes,” said the professor. “The Dark’Un was not a sadistic beast like we first thought. Instead, it was simply a mother protecting its young.”
“How do you figure that?” asked Rowdy.
“Dale and I discovered the truth when we explored the lair of the Dark’Un…or more precisely, its nest. These albinos are the children of this dark creature. The same goes for the ones I have right here.” She then knelt and opened the top of her knapsack. From within the depths of the backpack scurried dozens of tiny centipede-like creatures as pitch black as their unfortunate parent. “My theory is that the Dark’Un was a hermaphroditic organism, which means that it possessed functional reproductive organs of both sexes, like an earthworm. It probably impregnated itself and gave birth every few thousand years or so. The first litter after its initial release from the tunnel wall consisted solely of parent’s offspring, expressing traits of passivity and physical vulnerability that were not dominant in the genetic makeup. The most recent offspring, however, possessed the same characteristics—the same aggressive boldness and exoskeletal protection.”
They watched as the multitude of black creatures swarmed across the earth and joined their pale siblings. The familiar sound of crackling erupted as the ground began to swirl with pools of torrid darkness. One by one, the ebony creatures took on the forms of human beings—some duplicating Lance LaBlanc and the other albinos, while some adopted the likenesses of Captain Nickles and his uniformed troopers.
“I’ll be damned,” was all the police commander could say as he stared at a dark mirror image of himself.
Silently, the children took the body of their parent gently in their hands and began to carry it away from the forest, like solemn pallbearers bearing the casket of a loved one. The strange race of mountain creatures made their way slowly back up the mountainside to the cave at the top of the peak.
“They’ll be safe now,” said Jenny. “They won’t have to worry about progress or greed threatening their paradise ever again. From now on there will be a whole army of Dark’Uns to watch over Pale Dove Mountain…and God help anyone foolish enough to make the same mistake that Jackson Dellhart did.”
Chapter Forty
A few hours after his surgery at a Knoxville hospital, Gart Mayo woke up to find Miss Mable sitting next to his bed. “Well, what’s the verdict, old woman? Am I still in one piece?”
“You’re still the same ornery cuss as before,” she assured him with a warm smile. “They dug that chunk of lead outta your belly and set all your broken bones. It’s a good thing that you’re as tough as a piece of rawhide. If not, you probably wouldn’t have made it.”
“Hell, I couldn’t very well kick the bucket…not when we’re on the verge of tying the proverbial knot.”
Miss Mable eyed him with a mixture of surprise and delight. “Glory be! I do believe you’re proposing marriage to me. Are you sure you didn’t get a brain concussion, too, somewhere along the way?’
“My brain’s about the only part of my anatomy that didn’t get knocked around,” Gart said with a wink. “I meant what I said. So, what’s your answer?”
“Just point me to the church house, old man, and I’ll be waiting for you at the altar.” She bent down and planted a kiss on his pale lips, then went out into the hallway to fetch the others.
Jenny, Glen, and Dale came in, followed by Rowdy and Alice. “I hear you’re fixing to give me a brand new grandma,” smiled Rowdy, shaking Gart’s hand. “About time you got off your butt and did the sensible thing.”
Gart eyed his grandson and the brunette, noticing that they were holding hands. “Looks like ours ain’t the only romance that blossomed during this crazy ordeal.”
Rowdy smiled affectionately at the lady professor. “Yeah, well, we figured we’d stick together for a while and play it slow, just to see if we can stand each other’s company. She’s mighty sweet and pretty, but could turn out to be a bit too brainy for my taste. “
Alice gave the lanky singer a playful nudge in the ribs. “And you’re just the kind of backwoods redneck I despise. But they say opposites attract, and so far, I tend to agree.”
“We thought we’d head to Nashville in a couple of days,” Rowdy told them. “Take us a little vacation after all that mind-boggling business on Pale Dove Mountain. Besides, I’ve gotta teach Alice to love country music if she’s gonna be my number-one gal. All she listens to now is that classical crap.”
“I guess I could learn to love Johnny Cash as much as I do Tchaikovsky. But I don’t know if I’d ever be able to stomach your stuff. Don’t you sing about anything other than honky-tonk angels and drunken drifters?”
Rowdy pulled her to him and gave her a big hug. “Well, maybe you could give me something else to sing about. I’m mighty low on good love songs latel
y.”
Alice blushed. “Well see what we can do about that.”
Miss Mable looked over at where Jenny, Glen, and Dale stood. “And if I ain’t mistaken, it seems like I see the makings of a family here, too. What about it? Are ya’ll gonna make this string of springtime romances complete?”
Glen looked at Jenny and smiled. “I’m willing to if she is. We both had a rough time there for a while; what with me grieving over Liz and Jenny over the death of her father. But we helped each other through those bad times. I reckon we’re deserving of some good times for a change.”
“I guess I’m all for it, too,” said Jenny, “if Dale doesn’t mind the idea.”
“Heck, I don’t mind,” said Dale with a big grin of approval. “I think you’d make a great mom. It might mean less burgers and fries, and more vegetables on my plate, but I reckon I could get used to that.”
“What about your career, Jenny?” asked Alice. “Don’t tell me you’re willing to give up your painting.”
“I don’t see why I couldn’t split my career in Memphis with a life in Tucker’s Mill,” she said. “Besides, what better inspiration could I ask for than to be a few miles from Pale Dove Mountain? I’m sure Lance LaBlanc and the others wouldn’t mind serving as models every now and then.”
Glen scratched his beard in sudden thought. “That reminds me, what are you going to do with all that gold that LaBlanc gave you?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Jenny, “And I’ve decided we ought to split it up among ourselves. Does that sound fair enough?”
“Wow!” beamed Dale. “We’re filthy rich!”
“Not quite, young man,” laughed Glen, ruffling his son’s hair playfully. “But it will put you through college when the time comes.”
A thought crossed Jenny’s mind and she frowned in heartfelt concern. “What about Captain Nickles and the state police? Do you think they’ll investigate what went on up there on the mountain? They could end up doing more damage and causing the changelings more trouble than Jackson Dellhart did.”
“I told Joe the entire story from start to finish,” said Gad. “He was a little skeptical at first, but I think he believes it, considering what he saw there toward the end. He did say that he was gonna take a team of troopers up on the mountain early tomorrow morning and check things out. But do you know something? I don’t think he’s gonna find anything. He might come across some bloodstains or a few burnt holes in the ground, but I don’t believe he’ll find any helicopter wreckage or bodies. I’m pretty sure the albinos will spruce the place up before they get there. And I don’t think the Captain will be foolish enough to go poking around in those caves either. Joe’s a smart man. He knows when to leave well enough alone.”
Glen smiled broadly, showing none of the discontent that he had exhibited a few short weeks ago. “Well, then I’d say that everything worked out just fine,” he said, putting his arms around Jenny and Dale. “Just goes to show that there are such things as happy endings after all.”
Jenny tried to match his optimism, but couldn’t quite succeed. She kept thinking about the one key player in the invasion of Pale Dove Mountain who had escaped the vengeance of the Dark’Un—Vincent Russ. And she couldn’t help but recall the way his eyes had sparkled with greed as he looked upon the golden walls of the subterranean chamber. It had been a greed every bit as strong and uncompromising as the one that had motivated his unlucky superior…perhaps even stronger.
Epilogue
The inside of Jackson Dellhart’s private safe looked like a treasure trove to Vincent Russ. Within the cramped compartments were several hundred thousand dollars in cash, a number of stocks and security bonds, and a small lockbox containing half a million in rare diamonds and gold. There was also a portfolio of important contracts and documents…among them the deed for Pale Dove Mountain.
Russ opened his briefcase and put both the cash and the lockbox inside. He ignored the stocks and bonds, but took the deed. That was the main thing he had come back for. He knew as much about faking the legitimacy of documents as the Stoogeones had, and knew that he could work a little magic in his own favor. Soon, the deed would be properly doctored, listing him as the legal owner of the Tennessee mountain.
He closed the safe and crossed the office to Dellhart’s private elevator. As he stepped inside and pressed the button that would take him to the heliport on the roof, he considered the direction that his future was taking. On their way to Memphis, he and Hollinger had made their plans. First, they would refuel at the airport and then head down to Mexico. The pilot had friends in a town called Las Zargoza, where they could hang out for a while until things cooled off. Hollinger also had connections with a network of mercenaries in the Western hemisphere and abroad. They could pick and choose who was best for their planned military strike. When Vincent Russ returned to Pale Dove Mountain to claim his golden fortune, he planned to take a commando force with him that would make Hendrix’s bunch look like a Girl Scout troop.
As he contemplated the wealth that he was sure to obtain, Russ absently reached into the side pocket of his windbreaker for a pack of smokes. Something next to the cigarettes moved, tickling the skin of his knuckles. With a soft curse, he withdrew his hand and, along with it, came a squirming insect. It dropped onto the carpeted floor of the elevator and darted toward the far corner.
It was a small black centipede.
Damned bug must’ve crawled into my pocket when I was up in those woods, he thought with disgust.
Slowly, his grimace of repulsion changed into a cruel smile as he moved forward and, placing his foot above the squirming insect, stepped down hard.
Vincent Russ chuckled like a sadistic child…then heard the sound of brittle crackling beneath the sole of his shoe.
Hollinger sat in his helicopter on the circular pad of the Eco-Plenty roof. The pilot’s hands were folded behind his head and his eyes were centered on the pale orb of the moon that hung in the night sky overhead. He smiled at the good fortune of the past few hours. Earlier that day, he had merely been a flunky of Frag Hendrix, one warrior among many. But now things had changed for the better. He was a partner in a forthcoming project that would make him a multimillionaire. Not bad for a man whose ancestors had been poor Mississippi cotton pickers.
He spotted a flash of motion from the corner of his eye and turned to see Vincent Russ leaving the elevator. The weasely man started across the roof toward the waiting chopper. Hollinger reached up and flicked a few switches, sending the blades into lazy rotation. It would take a moment for the engine to gain momentum and the blades to reach their proper speed.
“Come on, man, we ain’t got all night,” he uttered beneath his breath, for the guy seemed to be taking his time in getting there. He watched as Russ approached the passenger side of the chopper, his hand reaching out to take hold of the door handle.
Except that was not the man’s true intention. Instead, Russ’s outstretched palm slammed against the wall of the chopper with enough force to rock the aircraft on its landing skids.
“What the hell are you doing, man?” growled Hollinger. At first he simply stared at Russ in confusion, wondering why the man was acting so funny. Then, through the Plexiglas of the chopper door, he saw a ghastly gray face leering in at him with pitch black eyes, and he knew that the thing outside was not Vincent Russ.
Placing its gray-fleshed hands against the olive drab structure, the creature began to push. The big Bell moved easily, its skids grating across the concrete pad as effortlessly as the wheels of a toy car might move under the hand of a child. Hollinger shot a quick glance to the opposite side and saw that the chopper was gradually approaching the edge of the roof.
He could hear the blades whining above him, gathering speed, but he knew they would never reach their correct momentum in time for lift-off. Hollinger drew his .45 and began to blast away at the thing that pushed the aircraft steadily toward the edge. Slugs punctured the glass and slammed into Russ’s head
, but they either flattened or glanced off the ashen flesh of his brow. Then, with a wide grin of shiny black teeth, the creature heaved mightily against the side of the helicopter.
The thought of escaping from the other door of the cockpit flashed through Hollinger’s mind, but it was far too late. He saw empty space yawning beyond the window, as well as the random headlights of the cars on the street below. The helicopter teetered on the edge for a precarious moment and then surrendered to the law of gravity.
The pilot turned his head, not wanting to see the dark pavement as it rushed up to meet him. Instead, his eyes fastened on the receding roof of the thirty-story Eco-Plenty Building. He did not see Vincent Russ standing at the ledge as he expected. Rather, he thought he caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark form darting in front of the pale sphere of the moon.
The silhouette of a shadowy bird winging its way eastward, with a scrap of paper clutched tightly within its dark talons.
OF CROWS AND PALE DOVES
Author’s Note
Of all the characters in The Dark’Un, the most short-lived and enigmatic may just be Fletcher Brice. The elderly mountain man lives a nearly hermit-like existence, shunning civilization and keeping himself—and his family—in relative discomfort and isolation…but for what gain? Is it to protect a race of albino changelings out of the sheer goodness and decency of his heart? Or are his stubborn actions motivated by loyalty and obligation for something that might have happened to him on Pale Dove Mountain many years before?
Questions abound concerning Fletcher’s life before he decided to turn his back on those around him and chose to exist solely for the protection of those strange creatures who occupied his mountainous property. What was Fletcher Brice like as a young boy? Where did the infirmity of his lame leg come from? And does his loyalty really belong to the albino beings…or to the black-and-gray monstrosity known as the Dark’Un?
A Haunting of Horrors: A Twenty-Novel eBook Bundle of Horror and the Occult Page 488
