Darkly The Thunder

by William W. Johnstone

  “I know a lot about welding,” Sgt. Janet Dixon said. “My daddy is a welder. I’ll seal that sucker shut.”

  “Gordie, honey,” the sheriffs wife called from behind the door. “I’m not part of the Fury’s plan. I love you, baby. Open the door and let me out.”

  Others behind the door picked up the call, pleading to be set free.

  Judy quickly set up a PSE machine and began monitoring stress in the voices. “They’re lying,” she said. “Everyone that I’ve checked.”

  “Those things are not reliable,” Leon said. “They’re not admissible in a court of law.”

  Mack – his .357 fully loaded – looked at the boy and inwardly fought to keep from shooting him.

  Watts had handcuffed the man who refused to die, and with the help of Rich and Capt. Hishon, dragged the man outside and tossed him into the street.

  The screaming behind the door was a howling roar as Janet began welding the door to the steel frame. Those trapped pounded on the door and cursed.

  NOW YOU’RE CATCHING ON, FOLKS. NOW YOU’RE PLAYING THE GAME. I LOVE IT.

  No one chose to reply.

  SINCE THE ENTIRE WORLD – STUPID PLACE THAT IT IS – WILL KNOW ALL ABOUT ME COME THE MORNING, I SHALL GIVE YOU ALL A TREAT. YOU MAY ROAM THE TOWN BETWEEN NOW AND THEN AND I WON’T HARM YOU. YOU HAVE MY WORD. REMEMBER, I SAID I WON’T HARM YOU TA-TA.

  DO BOP DE DO BOP DE DO BOP, DE DO.

  “Meaning the people are out there waiting for us,” Watts said.

  “Yeah,” Maj. Jackson said. “So bullets won’t stop them, we know that. But I know something that will.”

  All looked at him.

  “Fire,” the major said.

  Those trapped inside the sheriffs office spent the next hour scrounging up empty bottles and filling them with gasoline siphoned from vehicles in the impound area.

  OH, MY. BUT THIS IS GOING TO BE SUCH FUN!

  “You going to watch and not interfere?” Gordie asked.

  I GAVE MY WORD, BURRITO-BREATH.

  “So you did. All right. Let’s see how much your word means.”

  The air inside the office grew heavy, and all could sense the Fury was very angry. I HAVE NEVER BROKEN MY WORD, PONCHO. I MIGHT TRICK YOU, DECEIVE YOU, SET TRAPS FOR YOU. BUT IF I GIVE MY WORD, IT’S A FIRM BOND. DON’T EVER ACCUSE ME OF BEING A WELSHER AGAIN.

  “Sorry.”

  THAT’S BETTER. BY THE WAY, WHAT IS A MODEM?

  “I don’t have any idea,” Gordie quickly responded. “What language is that?”

  I’M NOT SURE. IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH A MACRO AND A SYSTEM DISK.

  “I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong people, Fury. I’d guess that those are reporters’ phrases of some kind.”

  YOU MIGHT BE RIGHT. IF YOU ARE, IT WILL PROBABLY BE THE FIRST TIME. HAVE FUN.

  The people behind the welded-shut door had shouted themselves hoarse and were silent. But all knew that anytime the Fury wanted the door open, it could open it.

  Gordie hefted a Molotov cocktail, half-filled with gasoline with a rag stuck in the top.

  “Let’s go to work, people.”

  The night had turned cool, cooler than usual for early spring in the Rockies. The men and women stepped out of the sheriff’s office and looked up and down the street. It was deserted, and very silent.

  “They’re waiting for us,” Watts said. “I spent too many years as a cop not to sense a set-up.”

  Gordie could also feel the intangible eerieness that Watts was experiencing, and it was not something he enjoyed. And neither was he going to enjoy the assault against the townspeople. He knew and liked most of the people in Willowdale. It was important to keep in mind that those they would face were merely shells of what they had once been – now they were dangerous, the enemy. The camera crews that had stepped across the line into the town were filming the desolation and the silence. Jill and Dean were speaking softly into tape recorders.

  Dean felt eyes on him and looked up, meeting Gordie’s gaze. “Reporter to the end, Sheriff,” he said with a smile.

  “Let’s hope this isn’t the end,” Gordie replied, then walked to his car, Sunny going with him.

  The men and women went to their preassigned vehicles, got in and pulled out, driving into the unknown.

  Watts rode with Gordie and Sunny, in the back seat. Gordie keyed his mike. “One to Whiz kid.”

  Mack took it. “Go, One.”

  “Where is the Coach?”

  “Everywhere,” came the terse reply.

  “That’s ten-four.”

  WHO IS THE COACH?

  “The enemy,” Gordie said truthfully.

  AHH. THE TOWNSPEOPLE. YOU REALLY DIDN’T THINK YOU COULD FOOL ME FOR VERY LONG DID YOU, GUNSLINGER?

  “I wouldn’t even try that, Fury. I’m just going to beat you, that’s all.”

  THAT’S THE SPIRIT, GREASEBALL. WHAT IS MY CODENAME?

  “We didn’t name you. We didn’t think it would do any good.”

  WISE DECISION. CARRY ON.

  The electricity in the air left them.

  “Sentries all around the perimeters,” Mack said. “The main mass is located near the stadium.”

  They could feel the electricity as the Fury leaped from the football field to center around the car. SO I AM THE

  MAIN MASS, EH? THAT’S NOT A VERY FLATTERING NAME.

  “I thought you were going to stay out of this, Fury? What’s the matter, afraid we’ll be successful this night?”

  DON’T BE RIDICULOUS. OH, VERY WELL, THEN. YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN.

  “You’ll stay out of this, completely out, and we can speak freely, without your eavesdroping and snooping?”

  YOU ASK A LOT.

  “Not so much. You’re stronger and smarter and braver than we are,” Gordie stroked the Fury’s ego.

  THAT IS CERTAINLY TRUE.

  “Well? How about it?”

  UMMM. I WILL STRIKE A BARGAIN. I WILL WATCH, BUT NOT LISTEN. HOW ABOUT THAT?

  “You said your word was your bond. I accept.”

  YOU’RE A TRUSTING FOOL. BUT VERY WELL, YOU HAVE MY WORD ON IT.

  The electricity left them.

  Gordie keyed his mike. “One to headquarters. Where is the conceited, lying, ugly son of a bitch?”

  Mack almost swallowed his chewing tobacco at that. But the Fury was keeping his word. It was not listening. “Whiz kid says it’s back at the stadium. Whiz kid says some of the blips have diminished on the screen, so it’s cut its power.”

  “That’s ten-four.”

  “It’s so sure it’s going to win,” Sunny said. “My heart almost stopped when you called it that, Gordie.”

  “I had to be sure.” He turned a corner, and the hospital loomed in front of them.

  “Oh, Lord!” Sunny breathed.

  “Relax. We’re not going back in there. I just wanted to check it out.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  Gordie stopped, and they all could see the faces, pale-white in death, looming at the windows of the hospital.

  “This will be one of the first places to go up when we bust out of here,” Gordie said, then waited to see if there was any response from the Fury.

  Nothing.

  “Did you have this in mind when all those crates of explosives were ordered?” Watts asked from the back seat.

  “No. Jackson just thought it might be a good idea to have some heavy firepower around when – or if – the time ever came.”

  “What all came in those crates?”

  “Rockets. Grenades. C-4.” He keyed his mike and called in. “We still clear?”

  “Still clear, One. Howie says Sand just told him that the thing is keeping its word this time, because it desperately needs to rest, and this is helping it do that.”

  “That’s ten-four. Out.” He hung up the mike and said, “I figured that thing had some reason for being so damned agreeable all of a sudden.”

  As he turned the unit around in the hospital parking lot, a thrown
rock bounced off the side of the vehicle. Gordie used a spotlight to scan the darkness, but could spot no one lurking on the grounds.

  “Behind those shrubs,” Watts said.

  “Yeah. Got to be.” He continued on, rolling out of the parking lot and back onto the street. “Fury has something up his sleeve for us tonight. But damned if I can figure out what it is.”

  “It does enjoy surprises,” Sunny pointed out.

  Every light in town suddenly went out.

  Chapter Eight

  “And that’s all we know about it,” President Marshall told the representatives from a dozen countries, meeting with him in the White House.

  Surprisingly, the Russian ambassador was the first to agree to the method of destroying the Fury. “This mass cannot be allowed to grow and spread,” he said. “Each time it devours beings, it grows that much more stronger, and that much more difficult to destroy. Also that much more intelligent. We cannot allow this mass to grow; it must be destroyed.”

  “I concur,” the Canadian said.

  The others in the room quickly agreed.

  “And you have no plan on rescuing those trapped in the town?” the German ambassador asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” President Marshall replied. “We know they have some plan, but they’re not talking about it because the Fury might intercept the messages.”

  “The little children trapped in there distress me,” the French ambassador said. “Howie and Angel. They are the only young people not affected by the mass?”

  “As far as we know.”

  “We must have those tapes the reporter is gathering from the mass,” the English ambassador said. “They will give us an insight to our past that we might never again have.”

  “We’re all in agreement on that.”

  The ambassador from Japan turned his head to once more gaze at the TV screen showing the videotapes. “We are actually viewing life after death. This is the most incredible moment of my life.”

  “It shall certainly get much more interesting,” the Russian told him. “Especially if the Fury grows much stronger.”

  The big emergency generator at the sheriff’s office kicked on automatically ten seconds after the power went out.

  But the TV set showing the events of thirty years past never faltered or dimmed.

  “How is that possible?” Hillary asked, pointing to the set.

  “I’m not sure I even want to know,” Leon said. “I just want out of here—in one piece.”

  Gordie had ordered all personnel back to the sheriff’s office.

  ALL BETS ARE OFF NOW, GUNFIGHTER.

  “Why?” Gordie asked.

  YOU CRAPPED OUT BY RETURNING.

  “Fine with me. I prefer the daylight anyway.”

  WHAT A CHICKEN-SHIT.

  The Fury left them.

  “Gordie,” Watts called, standing in front of the television. “Look at this. This is when and how Joey and Tuddie died.”

  Everyone gathered around.

  The young couple in the custom car had just topped the crest of Pioneer Mountain and started the roll down, when Joey stepped on the brake pedal. Everyone watching the set could feel the mushiness of the pedal.

  “Oh, God,” Hillary whispered.

  “Damn,” Joey’s voice came out of the speakers as he realized what was happening.

  A heavy invisible force gripped the young couple in a cold grasp. Those watching thirty years in the present could feel the clammy touch.

  “The Force?” Dean asked.

  “Yes,” Watts told him. “Death.”

  “It is time,” a heavy voice sprang from the speakers.

  “Joey!” the blonde said. “Did you hear that. What is that voice?”

  “But I want to live!” Joey said.

  “Who are you talking to, Joey?” Tuddie asked. “What’s wrong with the car? Why are we going so fast?”

  “Sorry,” the Force said. “All this was decided long before you took your present shape.”

  “Joey!” Tuddie screamed. “I’m scared!”

  “Then take me, and let her live!” Joey shouted.

  “Sorry.”

  Forty-five miles per hour down one of the most dangerous grades in the Rockies. “Hang on, babe,” Joey said. “I’m going to slide it into the rocks on your side and stop this thing.”

  “No, you’re not,” the Force said.

  Joey fought the wheel, trying to ram one side into the embankment. They were going too fast.

  “Why are you doing this?” Joey shouted.

  “I’m not. Don’t worry. Sand will join you very soon.”

  “Jesus Christ!” he muttered.

  “He has nothing to do with this.”

  The Force had completely enveloped the young couple in a dark mist.

  “Joey!” Tuddie, cried. “What is that dark stuff all around us? I can’t see anything, Joey.”

  “Hang on, honey.”

  Sixty-five miles an hour. Joey knew their time on earth was nearly through.

  Seventy miles an hour. Joey knew the next curve would be the one to punch their tickets, for that long ride across that dark river.

  “Did those damn rich punks from Monte Rio cut my brake cables?” Joey shouted.

  “Yes, they did.”

  “Damn them all to hell!” Joey screamed.

  “Oh, yes. Sand will see to that.” The Force was gripping them both in a damp, heavy pressure. “Soon,” it whispered.

  “All right, God,” Joey said. “Take me, but let her live.”

  “Sorry,” the Force told him. “He has nothing to do with it either.”

  They left the road at eighty, going over the high side, sailing through hundreds of feet of nothing.

  “I love you, Tuddie!” Joey shouted, a second before they impacted with earth.

  The car did not explode when it hit the ground. Joey and Tuddie were holding hands when the searchers found the crushed and mangled bodies.

  “There you are, Al,” Gordie pointed out the much younger highway patrolman standing with Sand by his side.

  “Look at Sand’s eyes,” Lynn said. “They’re changing from gray to yellow. They’re wolf eyes.”

  “I didn’t notice,” Watts said. “He had just about lost it by then, and I didn’t notice.”

  “I don’t think it would have made any difference,” Howie said. “All that was planned by a higher power.”

  “But who?” Dean asked. “That . . . voice said that God had nothing to do with.”

  No one had an answer to that.

  “Inspect the brakes,” Sand said.

  Watts ordered it done.

  “They were tampered with,” the patrolman told them.

  Watts cussed as Sand began yelling out names. The same ones who had been at the drive-in.

  The scene shifted. Those Sand had named were being questioned, and questioned hard, by Al Watts. They each alibied the others.

  “Naturally,” Sand said to Watts. The scenes were shifting very fast. The viewers thirty years later had to struggle to keep up.

  The eight young men from Monte Rio were picked up and questioned again by Watts. He could not break their story.

  “That’s just about the way I figured it would be,” Sand said to Watts.

  “Certainly,” the Force whispered. “Matters were settled long ago. It won’t be much longer. Soon.”

  The young Watts looked all around his office. He was certain he had heard somebody whispering.

  The screen went dark.

  “I remember thinking at that time,” Watts said, “that the case was odd from the outset. I felt then it was getting macabre. Little did I know.”

  Gordie woke up to the sounds of screaming. One of the college girls was standing at a boarded-up window, screaming and pointing out into the street. Gordie threw off his blankets and ran to her side, looking out the window.

  He had to lean against the wall for a moment, recovering from the sight.

  Many of the pe
ople he had helped to bag were now dancing naked in the street, under the brilliance of moonlight, waving their body bags gracefully. Others had one end of the bags tied around their necks, using them as capes.

  “I can’t take much more of this,” the young woman said. “I just can’t!”

  “Steady, now,” Gordie said, putting his arms around her. “Just hang on.”

  “We’re never going to get out of here!” she wailed, all the pent-up fears she’d held back surfacing. “We’re all going to die in here!”

  WHY DON’T YOU LAY HER DOWN AND GIVE HER A GOOD OLD-FASHIONED FUCKING, GUNFIGHTER? THAT’D MAKE YOU BOTH FEEL BETTER.

  Gordie, holding the trembling girl in his arms, said, “Why don’t you kiss my ass, Fury?”

  OH, THAT’S GOOD, THAT’S GOOD. I LIKE IT WHEN YOU GET YOUR GREASY DANDER UP. DO BOP DE DO BOP DE DO BOP, DE DO.

  A bleary-eyed Howie had gotten out of his cot when the screaming started. He called from his computer room, “It’s gone, Sheriff.”

  “Didn’t take it as long to regain its strength this time, did it?” Hillary asked, walking over and gently taking Sandy’s hand, pulling her away from Gordie.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Gordie said. “And it may be getting ready to enlarge its territory. Howie, warn the Rangers at the checkpoints; have them pull back a half mile immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gordie turned back to the street. The naked, rotting dancers had disappeared.

  “What next?” he muttered wearily.

  The TV set clicked on and Watts, despite all that was going on around him, laughed out loud.

  “Tell me,” Gordie said, walking over. “I could use a good laugh right now.”

  “Right in the middle of all the fighting between the hot rodders and the rich shits, I had men everywhere. That’s Morg,” he said, pointing to the screen, “towing in one of my men’s cars that had broken down on the highway.”

  “You can’t see the trooper,” Jackson said.

  “No,” Watts chuckled. “He’s got his hat brim pulled down low and is hunkered down in the seat, so nobody can recognize him.”

  The scene shifted.

  “Who’s that with you, Al?” Mack asked. Then took a closer look. “Oh, hell. That’s that fool Governor Bradford.”

  “Was he as stupid as Siatos, Al?” Gordie asked.