by Angela White
Mark and David, still on sentry duty since they hadn’t been verbally removed from it, stayed to each side of the walking team and kept their eyes on the dark doorways and shadowy alleys around them. There was only a little wind to disturb things and each sound that echoed was one they worried over. The wolves could be lurking and so could the old woman and her evil kids. Hard men walked with hands on the butts of their weapons, ready to shoot the first thing that acted like a threat.
The fork they were coming up on veered to the left and right. One appeared to wind back the way they’d come, and the other headed into the tall, moldy corn.
Alexa didn’t wait for the path. She stepped to the left, making her own way through the corn and her man did the same, widening it with their wider, heavier bodies. The ground here was drier, harder, and it jarred them with each step, as if to warn them not to continue.
A gust of wind came from nowhere and pushed against them violently, another warning, but Alexa laughed harshly. “Is that all you’ve got left, old woman?”
There was an angry screech that swirled through the sky like a solar blast, and then there was stillness and silence again.
Alexa’s taunting smirk stayed on her face as they topped a small rise and entered the next field. Tractor parts and long since mildewed buckets of corn ears lined this field and the fighters stayed clear of the small shadows that likely held a predator of some kind.
“Smell that?” Billy asked, bringing his bandana up.
The others sniffed and found their stomachs growling from the tempting odor of freshly roasted corn.
“Damn,” Mark muttered. “Thicker this time.”
“Closer to the source,” Alexa replied. “Her manifestations, her minions, will have greater powers here.”
“How did she get here? What is she?” Daniel asked respectfully. “We need to know how to kill her.”
“Those are questions for later,” Alexa stated firmly. “The first two, anyway. As for how she can be killed, you’re wearing it on your hip.”
It was a relief to know that the master of the house could be stopped with bullets and the men felt their confidence rise to full levels again. Being knocked out had clearly rattled them. Not in the faith that Alexa could handle it, but in the belief that she had them along for more than energy. If they weren’t a help in the fighting, they didn’t want to be here.
The house that appeared below them as they reached the end of the massive cornfield was more than simply intimidating. It wasn’t right.
The layers of fog weaving though the cornfields that surrounded it shouldn’t have been there in these conditions. Nor should the second floor tilt and the third floor appear to be caving in. The roiling black sky didn’t fit with the serene blue dimness that appeared in every other direction. The columns holding up the three-story, Victorian-style plantation home were too thin to hold such weight and it looked as if there were a solid black oak tree growing through an upstairs window.
The entire property was like that. Fences were upside down, roots of weeds were waving among the moldy stalks, a grain silo was shaped like a horseshoe, and Alexa let out an annoyed sound. “Wait for the real house. This is the decoy.”
Her men trusted her and waited a bit impatiently for something to happen.
It came all at once, a thick cloud that obscured the entire property and then lifted to reveal a busy city hotel.
People, happy and wealthy, roamed the expensive grounds, laughing and drinking. It was clearly from before the war and no one moved.
The next fade was to a pitiful home with a bamboo roof and a swampy landscape that didn’t fit in the middle of Nebraska.
“That’s it,” Alexa stated. “The next one is how we get in to her. Stay by to me. She’ll split us up if she can and I won’t be able to help you.”
“If we get split up?” Billy asked, checking his guns like the others were now doing.
“Meet at the very top,” Alexa answered.
Confused, the males would have questioned her, but the mirage in front of them changed again, this time becoming a castle wall with a single door.
“Let’s roll.”
Alexa took off at a fast clip, and her men tried to do the same. She was incredibly quick.
Alexa let a large gap come between her and the males, hoping to take the first hits alone. She wasn’t disappointed as two large wolves came from the corn in front of her. They charged her way with thick snarls and Alexa killed them both with a vicious swipe of both knives across their leaping faces. The animals fell, howling, and Alexa kept going. Her men would finish them off.
She picked up speed as she spotted the next pair of angry animals, going into that place where only she and her guns existed. She fired twice, taking down both animals and she didn’t slow as she saw the pack waiting for her.
“Hurry up!” Mark ordered, pulling more speed from his body.
Alexa began shooting the pack of two dozen, flying toward them as they did the same. Rapid gunfire ruptured the air as Alexa cut straight through the center of the pack, killing six of the twenty-four. Three of the lunging animals were hurt when she ducked and let them collide overtop of her. She rolled, and was on her feet as she reloaded.
“Keep going!” David called, aiming. “We’ve got this!”
Alexa did exactly that, heading for the castle door again. The birds came from the corn next and Alexa battled her way through with hard swings, using the butts of her gun as a hammer. The large crows tore at her clothes and scratched her exposed skin, but there was no stopping. She darted up the three concrete stairs and yanked the door open.
Reloading on the move, Jacob thought of the massive flying creature with the vivid yellow eyes as he brought up the drag position and then pushed it away. He wasn’t a hog and couldn’t be carried off.
The fighters didn’t stop as everything vanished, but there was no helping the pause in their step, the unsteady stride. The crows, fog, and wolves disappeared, leaving only the castle wall, the open door, and the corn.
8
“It’s not a wall.”
David’s comment would have drawn argument, but the other men were too grossed out to respond. What they’d all mistaken for a high castle wall was actually a barrier of rotting bodies and long since grayed skeletons. It was three bodies wide from that they could see and each peeling, gory face glowered at them in horrid warning.
“How many…” Billy trailed off, but it was already out and everyone tried to estimate it.
“Ten thousand,” Alexa answered, sounding choked. “About the population of elderly and kids that would have been taken from Lincoln in four years. And a lot of travelers who tried to brave the corn.”
“That can’t…” Daniel spun to lean on the wall and threw up.
Mark and Edward flanked Alexa, who still stood in the doorway, and the other four men slowly drifted over, faces green.
“Why don’t we smell it?” Billy asked suddenly.
“Glue,” Alexa answered. “It holds the bodies together while nature melds it all into a wall. If it stank, it would draw predators and be torn down each time a hungry wolf dragged off a fresh body. The glue is stronger than the rot, sealing it.”
Alexa was still looking through the door and the men gradually had their fill of the view as well.
Instead of the inside of a castle or a courtyard of a palace, there was another wall, this one with seven tall doors. Unlike the first wall, this one was made of brick and that at least, was a relief. The path to each of these doors were dirt, lined in corn, and flooded with ominous gray shadows.
“Rats?”
Everyone heard the revulsion in Billy’s tone, and Alexa took it into account. “Anyone else?”
It was only one of them with a phobia of the rodents this time, and Alexa made the driver go first. “Time to conquer that.”
Billy wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but he was also glad for the chance to do something good, big, or even perfect for her.
Edward was the last one through the door and he gently shut it behind him, sure that if they needed to leave it open, Alexa would have told him so. She’d been training them to close doors, windows, and other tell-tale exits and entrances.
As soon as the door shut, the rats rushed toward Billy, running up his legs, biting and scratching as he stomped to the closest door. When he made it to the stairs, the rats slowly faded into the ground as if they’d never been there.
“How does she keep doing that?” David muttered. “She’d need a solid block of energy to be able to…” David’s face transformed into a rage that made Jacob retreat a step to be out of the danger path.
“The kids.”
Alexa, who’d already figured it out, nodded at him. “We’ll handle it. Now.”
Alexa assigned each of them to a different door and when she dropped her hand, all of them turned the knobs and stepped through.
The sight of that wall of bodies said they’d been sent back to the beginning and Alexa glanced around for her missing man.
“Edward’s door. Let’s go,” she instructed.
They were reunited with Edward a minute later, in the courtyard they’d expected the first time.
The house hadn’t changed, though. It was as wrong as it had been on first view.
Chapter Fifteen
The House in the Corn
1
To the far right of the old mausoleum was a large copse of trees. The two wide trees in the front of this grove had branches that had almost grown together and blocked the entrance.
Mark and Billy were forced to veer to the left of these trees as three large wolves rushed them. Firing as they jumped and darted, the men ran toward the nearest part of the house to them-the rear porch. Covered in thick green vines and crusty water spots, the wooden porch shuddered as the fighters stomped up the short stairs and yanked open the screen door.
Billy slammed it shut behind Edward, and fired through the filthy screen, hitting the wolf about to come straight through the flimsy mesh. He fired again, wounding the second animal and the other animals turned tail toward the cover of the corn.
“I think we’re okay for a minute,” Billy gasped out, trying to control his breath as he reloaded.
“Um, Bill?”
Mark’s tone kept Billy’s fingers moving fast.
Edward grimaced as the wolf snarled, tensing for the leap. He was too close for a straight aim and he dropped to his knees as he fired.
Billy’s shot went through the wolf’s eye. Edward’s tore its throat open, and blood rained onto the wooden slats like a flood.
Edward shoved the gory carcass off of his legs and joined Billy at the door. “I’m really starting to get the feeling we’re not wanted here,” Billy cracked.
“You too, huh?” Edward grinned back, preparing to kick the door open while Billy covered him. “I thought it was just me they didn’t like.”
Billy nodded once, indicating that he was set, and Edward used a large part of his strength to kick with, shattering the lock on the door. It banged against the frame with a thick crack and then slowly swung open with a haunted screech that echoed to all corners of the huge house.
Edward sighed. “So much for not knowing exactly where we are.”
Billy shrugged, stepping into the old kitchen. “Won’t matter in the end.”
“No,” Edward agreed, now covering Billy as he moved farther into the wide room. “No, it won’t.”
The kitchen looked straight out of a history book or a painting. The old stove used the moldy wood stacked nearby, and the sink was filled with buckets from the well they had run by. The long tables were designed to hold massive amounts of food that would have been taken out to serve the partiers, carried by dozens of maids. Or slaves, Mark thought, noticing a riding crop propped by the double swinging doors. It was a harmless object until you asked what it was doing in the kitchen and then the use became clear.
“An old plantation?” Billy asked, voice barely audible. He almost expected to see the slave women, the ghosts, come from the giant pantry that took up an entire wall. The cabinet should have held dishes and serving items, but Billy had already spotted the long-dried red drops on the floor in front of it.
“Someone’s in there,” Edward stated. He’d noticed the same things as Billy, but also a dusty footprint.
Billy reached for the handle, confident that Edward had him covered. He opened the pantry, braced to see bodies.
“Don’t hit me no mo’!”
Billy jumped, startled, and Edward’s finger nearly pulled the trigger anyway.
The woman was old, short, and black, wearing a white cook’s uniform covered in bloody streaks. She peered up at them from the bottom of the pantry, one eye black and one eye brown, long gray hair full of dirt. On her wrists and ankles were thick scars, signs of her abuse, and compassion overwhelmed the fighters.
Billy knelt down. “Are you okay?”
The cook shuddered, mouth opening to reveal missing and chipped teeth. “Y-yes, master.”
Billy scowled. “I’m not your master.”
Edward sensed the driver’s revulsion and knelt down. “We’re letting you go, helping you. Can you walk?”
They weren’t sure for a minute if she was going to scream or cry. Her face changed emotions so many times that it made the two men a bit dizzy.
“I’ll cook for you!” the slave blurted finally. “To pay you! Master’s gone. She won’t know.”
To their surprise, the little black woman climbed from the pantry as if she’d done it often and started pulling down pots and gathering utensils.
“Will cook you up big thanks!” she cackled, causing the two fighters to eye her warily.
Billy flashed a question to Mark: What should we do?
Edward wasn’t sure. Information was handy in an unfamiliar area. Alexa was teaching them to find the locals, and what would be more local than the cook of the house?
“We’d be happy to eat a fast meal,” Edward said finally, taking a seat at the table. “But if we hear gunfire, we’ll have to run, you understand?”
The cook shrugged. “Not upstairs. The dog guards it too well. Better to stay right here, my pets.”
The woman’s speech was slowly becoming something else and the shade of her skin-that deep ebony-was lightening even as they watched.
“Is this real?” Billy asked suddenly, feeling a little dizzy.
“Of course, my friends!” the cook bellowed. “All is real in the house in the corn.”
“What can you tell us about the master of the house?” Edward questioned, nodding thanks at the cup of tea the cook put in front of him. Billy already had one and neither man was sure how she’d heated the water so fast, but it was steaming and stinking wonderfully.
“Oh, a hard one! Better to stay down here, with me, my friends! I fed you well.”
The table was now heaped with temptations, the ripe-smelling kind that these men hadn’t seen or scented in long years. Mashed potatoes with roasted chicken, pumpkin and apple pies, pudding, stuffing, greens. It was a holiday feast that brought all rational thought to a stop as hunger took control.
“Whoa,” Billy remarked, fighting to control his hands. They wanted to rip off that chicken leg, scoop up a handful of stuffing, and demonstrate that yes, men really are pigs.
Edward had skipped their last meal, mind on how to help Alexa once Paul was left behind, and his guts growled noisily. “Yeah.”
The cook viewed them with glittering, evil orbs, but neither man had attention for her. The sight of so much food was almost confusing.
“Can we take it with us?” Edward finally asked, fighting the spell. “We have friends we’d like to share it with.”
The cook cracked an eager grin that now revealed a mouthful of sharp fangs. “Sure, sure! But try it first, my friends! Just a bite.”
Billy saw his hand go out and rip off the chicken leg. It slipped and burnt, like a real meal would, and he laughed.
“It’s good, right?”
Edward had the pumpkin pie in one hand and a fork in the other, face flushed. “We should make sure.”
Billy chuckled in agreement and both men brought the food to their mouths.
“Now!” Edward forced out around the smell that claimed to be the best taste he’d ever had.
Billy tossed the chicken leg at the cook and both men drew their guns.
The food hit the floor and burst into moldy corn that ran with weevils.
Edward opened fire before the cook could recover, shooting twice, and the women was knocked against the stove in the impact. Her hair landed in the flames and it caught quickly, running up to her hair where she tried to slap it out.
Edward’s bullets had hit her in the chest, but all the men could see of them was a single dark round stain on her white uniform. The fire however, killed her. She went down in flames, screeching like a banshee, and they let her burn.
Wary of the noise and still feeling like he was under a spell, Edward motioned Billy to the blind side of the double doors and took the opposite area for himself.
“It’s wearing off,” Billy commented, now feeling like he may never be hungry again. The table of holiday sustenance had become what it really was all along and the piles of body parts were sickening on every level. Bowls of fingers, a platter of legs too large to be chicken and too small to be adult, a tray of bloody cookies. It was revolting.
“What is this place?” Billy gasped out, sure he was about to be sick.
“A house of death,” Edward answered, pulling his bandana up over his nose. Now that the glam was fading, the smells in this kitchen were that of a slaughterhouse and the smoldering cook didn’t help.
“Let’s get—”
Gunshots split the air, echoing harshly inside the enormous house.
“Alexa!” Edward realized. She’d been at the front door… Full memory returned in a slap.
“Come on!” he ordered, pushing through the doors.
