He rounded a corner up ahead and saw the taillights of the truck. It had to slow to take a sharp curve and that was good because he didn’t want another bunch of dead bodies on his hands tonight. He hit the lights and his siren to give them something to think about.
The driver of the truck didn’t slow one bit. Once he made the difficult turn in the road, he floored it again and zoomed off down the street. Sheriff Monroe had to slow to take the curve, too, and by the time he got around it, the truck had disappeared down the road.
Gritting his teeth, Sheriff Monroe stomped on the gas, killing the siren. He was going to catch that bastard, by God.
III
Mandy
Mandy sat in her cell as Doc Sizemore stood at the bars and looked in at her. He was an older man, with big bushy white eyebrows, a craggy face with the red-tipped nose of an alcoholic, dark blue eyes, and white scrub brush he called hair sitting on top of his head.
“Why won’t you answer my questions?” Doc said.
She stared back at him, her lips so tight together they were colorless. She didn’t have anything to say to the man. It wasn’t because she didn’t like him; she actually kind of did. He smelled of cherry pipe tobacco and that made her think of her Dad and that automatically endeared him to her. But she knew if she spoke he’d just think her crazy, like so many others did. Like they used to treat her father. It was always that way, like a snake eating its own tail. Mandy didn’t want to live her life like her Dad’s, but it was looking like she didn’t have much choice.
“Listen, young lady,” Doc said. He rubbed his jaw with his right hand as if he were trying to figure out a particularly hard crossword puzzle. “I can’t treat you if I don’t know what’s wrong. And since I can’t go in the cell because the sheriff didn’t open it, all I got are questions. So help me out here.”
She thought about it for a moment and finally relented. She would talk, even though it would do her no good and only get her deeper into trouble.
“There ain’t nothing wrong with me,” she said. “I’m fit as a fiddle. The problem is here in your little town.”
“And what’s that?”
She sighed. “Didn’t the sheriff tell you anything?”
Behind them, the phone to the station started ringing.
“All he told me was that he had a prisoner here who’d had a seizure. That’s it,” he said.
Another line lit up on the phone and then another. In the blink of an eye, all six extensions were flashing yellow and the ringing wouldn’t stop.
“I’m here because of that,” she said, pointing at the phones. “My seizures are from the Word of God being delivered to my mind in the form of visions. These visions told me to come here, to warn y’all about what was coming. But I was too late. The evil is already here.”
Doc stared at her for a moment and shook his head slowly. “One of those, I see.”
“One of what?”
“Crazy sonsabitches,” he said. “No offense, but I’ve dealt with your kind before. When I was younger, I used to do some volunteer work up the road a piece at the Crawford Mental Institute. I seen some people with real problems, let me tell you.”
Doc leaned close to the bars. “But don’t you worry, hon. We’ll get you the best care possible.”
The phone kept ringing and ringing. She ignored his insinuations and pointed at the phones again.
“Those are the ones who need your help,” she said. “You’ll see. It’ll be too late, but you’ll see.”
Doc let out a sigh and narrowed his eyes as he checked her out.
“There doesn’t appear to be any physical injuries,” he said.
“Damn you, old man! Open this cell and let me out!” she yelled. She’d had enough of this. She grabbed the bars and shook them as hard as she could as she cussed and spat on the floor.
Why had God given her the visions only to have her come here and get locked up, helpless to give aid and mocked by those she’d come to save? Had it been like this for the prophets? She thought it most surely had been. This was the way with the world. Lots of people professed faith in God and His works, but when confronted with them, when shown God and His word, they ran scared, fleeing to disbelief as if it was a blanket they could throw around their shoulder and keep out the cold of the real truth. She’d seen it all too often with her Dad and now here she was, the story repeating itself with her.
The phone stopped ringing. All at once, all six lines went dead. The jail was eerily silent, the only sound the faint and fading echoes of the phone’s ringer. She stared at Doc.
“That’s six more dead,” she said. “How many people live here, old man?”
“Why, I’m not sure,” he said. “A few hundred.”
She sank back down on her cot and buried her head in her hands. She wept, tears pouring from between her fingers.
“They will all die,” she said. “Unless we do something.”
“You poor thing,” Doc said, staring down at her.
The door to the station slammed open and a chubby man wearing a long black duster and a black cowboy hat burst through the door. He had the most intense eyes Mandy had ever seen. He glared at Doc and turned his gaze past him and onto her.
“What are you doing?” Jacob said to Doc. “Let that woman of God go.”
A gasp slipped from between Mandy’s lips and she felt her knees go weak. The man bristled with power, with energy, with blessings from the Lord. He wasn’t the most handsome man; in fact, he was rather squat and homely, but she wasn’t really drawn to his physical attributes. She was attracted to what he had to offer, which was kinship. Here was someone who understood who and what she was.
“Who are you?” Doc asked. He squinted and studied the strange man who’d entered the station.
“Jacob Sterns,” Jacob said. “And who are you?”
“Doc Sizemore,” Doc said. “What gives you the right to come in here and act like you got a bee in your britches?”
“The Lord our God,” Jacob said. “That woman you have captive there is a messenger of God. She sees visions and He has brought her here to aid us on this terrible and dark day.”
“Humm,” Doc said. He pursed his lips and twisted them to the side. “The sheriff is the only one who can let her out. I’m just here to examine her.”
“Where is the sheriff?”
“Out on a call.”
Jacob stared at Mandy and for a second time, she felt her legs weaken.
“How much time to we have?” Jacob asked.
“Not long,” she said. Her voice shook. She cleared her throat and spoke again, more clearly. “They’re here and already about their foul work.”
Jacob grimaced.
The doors to the station slapped open and Martin strode in, eyes wide and sweat dripping down his face.
“Where’s the sheriff?” Martin asked.
“Out on a call,” Doc said.
Martin looked at Jacob and Jacob stared back at him. Neither said a word to each other until Jacob’s nose wrinkled and he shook his head.
“You have the stink of the beast on you,” he said.
Tires screeched outside and seconds later, the doors slammed open again. This time it was Sadie and Sam, both out of breath and panicked.
“Where’s the sheriff?” Sam said.
“Come right on in, Sam,” Doc said. “Welcome to Grand Central Station.”
“What?” Sam asked. He gave Doc a puzzled look. “What the hell are you talking about, Doc?”
“Nothing,” Doc said. “Sheriff’s out on a call.”
“Where at?” Sadie said.
Doc shrugged. Jacob studied Sadie and Sam.
“It was after you,” Jacob said.
“What?” Sam said.
“One of the creatures, it pursued you.”
“Yes,” Sadie said. “It chased us for miles. I think we lost it, though.”
“They cannot be lost,” Jacob said.
“How did you know we were be
ing chased?” Sadie asked.
“Like this one,” Jacob said, pointing a thumb at Martin. “You have the stink of the beast about you. His stench is stronger.”
Martin took a step back.
“Jacob Sterns,” Jacob said. He offered his hand to Sam, then Sadie, and finally Martin. “Apostle of the Lord.”
“Oh, Christ,” Sam said. He rolled his eyes.
“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain,” Jacob said.
“Whatever,” Sam said. He pushed past Jacob and strode over to Doc. “Did the sheriff say how long he’d be gone?”
Doc shook his head. As he did, another pair of tires shrieked and skidded to a stop outside. A car door slammed and footsteps scraped across the sidewalk.
“Wonder who this is?” Doc said, a bemused smile on his face.
The doors swung open and Sheriff Monroe strode in, angry as a stirred-up hornet’s nest.
“Sam Drake, is that your pickup outside?” he said.
“Yes it is.”
“So that was you whipping down the road like some kind of hellion?”
“I reckon so,” Sam said.
“Did you not see me behind you, son? Did you not see my flashing lights and blaring siren?” Sheriff Monroe asked. “They come equipped with the car, you know.”
Sam shrugged.
Sheriff Monroe sighed and tipped his hat back on his head. “I’m going to have to cite you, Sam. You can’t go driving like that, not near town.”
“Listen, Sheriff, something terrible has happened,” Sadie said. “There was this man and he attacked me at my house and I shot him and he died but he took over Tate Stevens after he killed Tate and then he chased us down the road and he jumps really high in the air…”
“Hold it,” Sheriff Monroe said, interrupting her. “Just slow down there, Sadie.”
Sadie took a deep breath. She was shaking.
“Now, slow it down, okay?” Sheriff Monroe said.
“It’s all true,” Sam said. “We called and left you a message and then this guy, he came back to life in Tate’s body and started chasing us. All we could think of was to run into town and get you.”
“I see,” Sheriff Monroe said. He scratched his chin.
“It’s true!” Sadie said. “Check the message.”
“I believe I might just do that,” he said. He walked over to his desk and picked up the phone. He dialed in the code and listened intently.
Jacob looked at Sadie. “Did this man have springs in his heels?”
Sadie’s mouth fell open.
“Spring-Heeled Jack,” Jacob said. “One of the Men.” He turned and said to Mandy. “How many more are here?”
“All of them,” she said.
Jacob let out a long, tired breath.
Sheriff Monroe hung up the phone and shook his head. It was true. They had called and left a message and they sounded plenty upset on the machine. God, what was happening to his town? First those kids and now this.
Martin stepped forward and grabbed Sheriff Monroe’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“I’m Martin Thomas, sir,” he said. “I was good friends with your nephew, Ken. Do you remember me?”
Sheriff Monroe nodded.
“I came to see you, sir, because…,” Martin scratched his head. “Well, I just knew I had to come here.”
Jacob put his hand on Martin’s shoulder. “This one had an encounter with the beast,” he said. “He stinks of it.”
Martin pulled his shoulder away. “You’ve said that already.” He turned back to the sheriff. “If there’s anything I can do to help.”
More tires squealed outside. Doc rolled his eyes. It was getting to be nuttier than a bag of peanuts in there. The doors opened and Mayor Reed stormed in, his face ashen and his clothes soaked in sweat.
“Sheriff! Oh, thank God!” Mayor Reed said. “You’ve got to help me.”
“What is it?”
“There was this thing, it attacked people at the party. It was a rabid bear, I think. It just charged in and killed folks left and right. I ain’t never seen anything like it,” Mayor Reed said.
The doors to the station opened again and this time Tom, Dolores and Jenny rushed in.
“Sheriff!” Tom said.
“Let me guess,” Sheriff Monroe said. “You’ve all seen a monster and have come to report it.”
Tom and Dolores stopped and stared at the sheriff. “How did you know?” Tom said.
“I got what those city folks call ESP,” Sheriff Monroe said.
“It’s true!” Mayor Reed said. “It was at Tom’s barbecue when it happened. It was big and ugly and didn’t have any eyes or hair.”
Martin went white.
“It about killed damn near everyone, Sheriff,” Tom said.
“Christ,” Sheriff Monroe said.
“Watch the language,” Jacob said. His voice was deep and sonorous and when he spoke, everyone turned their attention to him. “The Lord is not mocked.”
“Who the hell are you?” Sheriff Monroe said.
“Some religious wacko,” Sam said.
“I am Jacob Sterns,” Jacob said. He offered his hand to the sheriff, but he eyed it like Jacob had just come from the bathroom without washing his hands. Jacob pulled his hand back.
“Trouble has come to your town, Sheriff,” Jacob said. “They are called the Men of Perdition, and they have come to kill everyone who lives here.”
PART FIVE
I
Mildred, Willy, Brad, Blake, and Edith
Mildred Barkenbus, having arrived home late, with the dress she’d wanted Sadie to work on slung over her shoulder, had a short amount of time to fume around her living room, donning the dress despite its too-long length, and dancing by herself to the tunes of Glenn Miller. She was lost in memories of her long-dead husband Herbert and the first night they met, so lost in fact she never heard the window open nor the gas hiss and fill the room until it was too late. By the time she realized something was wrong, the Mad Gasser had already entered the house and she was paralyzed, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. The Mad Gasser strode over, spraying her body with a peach-scented mist that settled into her skin. It burned and she wanted to scream, but she could not because of her paralysis. The Gasser made sure she suffered horribly, her flesh splitting open as her blood turned to blue crystal. The shards clawed their way free, pouring out across the floor. Her last thoughts were of her dead husband Herbert and the last sounds she heard was the Glen Miller band playing ‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree,’ her favorite song of all time. When he was finished, the Mad Gasser packed up and moved on to his next victims.
Willy Perkins, the mailman and secret peeping Tom, was busy pulling his pud whilst spying on his sexy neighbor Isabella as she showered. He was perched in the big oak tree sitting next to her house, staring at her big tits and shiny black bush as she massaged the soap and shampoo into her body. He liked to do this twice a week, and although there were others he cared to spy on, Isabella was his favorite. She was twenty-three, single, and probably a lesbian. He’s seen her come home some nights with different women from other towns, women he never recognized. He would creep over and try to get a good look at the goings-on but was always frustrated. The shades were pulled and loud music drowned out any noise. The next day, the mystery woman would leave and he’d never seen the same one visit twice. So that meant Isabella was not only a lesbian, but a lesbian slut. Nothing made his old cock harder. He was so busy whacking away he didn’t hear the springs snapping through the air behind him, nor did he see Spring-Heeled Jack land just below him on the ground. He did feel the gaze of those wicked button eyes, though, and as the skin around his neck prickled and he looked down, he lost the last erection he’d ever have for the rest of his short life. Spring-Heeled Jack sprung up, his knives slashing, and sliced off both of Willy’s hands before the old man could blink. He tumbled to the ground, his severed limbs spraying blood like a lawn-sprinkler gone mad. He was lucky his neck sn
apped when he landed, saving him future tortures by instant death. Isabella was not so lucky when Spring-Heeled Jack turned his button eyes in her direction.
Brad Miller had been flying high all day on the terrific afternoon he’d had with Jenny Dobson, but it all came crashing down when he found out about the cookout and the fact he wasn’t invited to come along. That burned Brad more than anything. He already was feeling sad about her leaving but now she was acting like she was above him, more important somehow because her family had money and his didn’t. So he stewed for a few hours before getting up the anger and the courage to do something about it.
He ran to his car, fired it up, and took off, determined to crash the cookout and show Jenny a thing or two. He ignored the smell of rain on the air, a thunderstorm on its way, as he blew down the road, breaking the speed limit as his foot got heavier and heavier on the pedal. He did not count on the hairless creature speeding across the road, narrowly missing the front end of his car but causing him to jerk the wheel to the left to avoid hitting it. The car ran off the road into a ditch, smashing the front end but leaving him surprisingly untouched.
Men of Perdition Page 17
