Kill Monster

by Sean Doolittle

Holy Family Shrine was a soaring glass chapel perched high on a hill overlooking the Platte River valley. Its arching wood timbers and limestone foundation could be seen from the interstate for miles in either direction, providing a dramatic wayside for weary travelers and sweeping 360-degree views of the surrounding prairie.

  At this hour on a Saturday, Ben and Charley had the place to themselves. It would be at least twenty more minutes before Christine arrived, assuming reasonable traffic. The chapel itself was closed, but there were plenty of places outside to sit and wait.

  Neither one of them felt like sitting and waiting. While Charley wandered away from the formal landscaping in search of a semi-respectable place to take another leak, Ben found a good signal and tried Abe and the guys on the prepaid.

  No answer. He tried a few more times, then decided he didn’t like having Charley out of his sight. After ten minutes, he went looking.

  Ben found him around the back of the chapel, standing amidst the wildflowers and prairie grass, looking up at the expansive altar window. It was a peaceful spot, calm and still, well beyond earshot of the silent, slow-motion interstate far below. Ben could hear the faintest whisper of a breeze in the trees: Mother Nature’s room tone.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Charley said.

  ‘I know,’ Ben said casually. ‘I just realized you still have that card I gave you. I need to call that cop.’

  Charley dug in his back pocket, handed the card over. Ben took it. He shoved the card into his own pocket for the moment, pausing to join Charley instead. The big glass above the altar was etched with a portrait of the chapel’s namesake holy family: Mary, Joseph, Jesus as a nipper. The three of them looked happy.

  ‘Did you know they don’t even let people get married here?’ Ben told him. ‘Not sure how she did it, but your mom finagled it somehow. Sweet-talked the board I guess. Didn’t work for me when I tried it, but she wouldn’t be denied.’

  ‘Cool,’ Charley said flatly. ‘Too bad she couldn’t stick out the actual marriage.’

  Ben felt a flash of anger at that. Or defensiveness. Or something. Whatever it was, he swallowed it and hung his arm over Charley’s shoulder.

  ‘Kid, let me tell you something about your mom. She had a hundred reasons to leave, and she forgave every one of them. You want to talk about sticking? She stuck.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Right up until that day I got pulled over. You remember.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Why do you remember?’

  ‘I was there, Dad.’

  ‘Bingo.’ Ben gave him a short squeeze, which Charley resisted. ‘I was way over the limit, and I put you in a car. That’s the only thing she couldn’t forgive. Looking back, I don’t blame her.’

  Charley said nothing.

  ‘I’ll tell you something else. If she had forgiven me? Hell, I might not ever have gotten my act together. Where’d you get the knife, by the way?’

  Charley glanced down at his own belt. Clipped to it was a folding knife with a locking blade. Just like the kind Red had used to cut their cuffs back at the River Bend Inn. Ben hadn’t noticed it until they were standing here.

  ‘Bought it,’ he said, covering the knife with the tail of his shirt. ‘When we stopped at the gas station.’

  ‘I thought you had to use the bathroom.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Oh.’ Drop it, Ben thought. Just let it go. At least for now. But he couldn’t. ‘So … why the knife?’

  A shrug. ‘Just to have it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  What else could he say? What makes you think you need a weapon, give it here? Ben put his hands in his pockets. He stood there, looking out at the horizon, now painted in pinks and reds, limned in gold. His head still ached, and his vision had gone blurry again, lending a romantic soft focus to the view. He opened his mouth to say more, then closed it again. Finally, he said, ‘Charley …’

  ‘Mom’s here,’ Charley said, already walking away through the tall grass, just as the sound of an approaching engine reached Ben’s ears.

  Anabeth assessed the situation to the best of her abilities. She found no immediate course of action that didn’t end badly, so she chose what seemed like the quickest available option under the circumstances.

  She slipped her hand into the duffel, shedding the bag entirely as she stepped behind Devon. In her hand was an object she detested: the .40-caliber Beretta Px4 she kept for emergencies. She pressed the muzzle against Devon’s temple.

  ‘Hey! What are you … is that thing real?’

  ‘Whoa.’ Jeremy raised his palms. ‘Hey. Abe.’

  Deputy Curnow had his own weapon unholstered and leveled in a flash. ‘Drop it and step away. Right now.’

  ‘Deputy – guys – I’m sorry about this.’ Anabeth hooked an arm around Devon’s neck from behind, arranging him to portray a more convincing human shield. ‘But we’re going to have to do that the other way around. I want you to throw your gun that way.’ She pointed in the general direction behind Curnow. ‘As hard as you can. Then do the same thing with your radio.’

  Curnow shook his head. ‘That won’t be happening.’

  ‘Then I start plugging Tech Support.’

  ‘You said you liked us!’

  ‘Dev. Shut up,’ Jeremy took a step toward them. ‘Abe. Come on. This is—’

  She pointed the gun at Jeremy, cringing inside. She would have liked to reassure the guys with some kind of signal, but she needed to sell this. Jeremy stopped instantly in his tracks, raising his hands higher, hurt flickering in his eyes. She put the gun back on Devon, pulling the hammer back with her thumb: click-click. The trigger felt dreadful beneath her finger.

  ‘For the record, everybody’s making me extremely twitchy right now,’ she said. ‘Starting with you, Deputy. Lose that gun. And I mean lose it. Gordon, as soon as he complies, get up there and grab his cuffs.’

  ‘Frerking!’ Curnow said. ‘You move an inch and I’ll start plugging Tech Support.’

  Gordon looked back and forth between them like a dog caught between owners, finally choosing Anabeth to hear his appeal. ‘I sorta feel like my hands are tied here.’

  ‘Deputy Curnow, none of us want this,’ Abe said. ‘Least of all me. But I can’t accept delays just now. I’d accept your help, if you offered.’

  ‘Drop the gun and we’ll talk about it.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ll give you ten seconds to decide your next move.’

  ‘Already decided. I’m calling your bluff.’

  ‘Eight seconds.’

  ‘What did I do?’ Devon whimpered. ‘Why are you pointing a gun at me?’

  ‘Hush, now,’ Abe told him. ‘Five seconds.’

  ‘I just paid off my student loans!’

  ‘Glass, don’t be stupid,’ Curnow said. ‘What do you think is going to happen if you pull that trigger?’

  ‘I don’t believe you’ll allow that. But we’ll find out in three seconds.’

  ‘Even if I didn’t shoot you, which I will, there’s plenty more cops over that hill. Plus the two coming up behind you right now.’

  Anabeth had already heard them: more footfalls rustling and crunching through the leaf litter, back left and back right. Flanking them.

  ‘Whoever’s back there,’ she called, ‘shooting me won’t help. You’ll have to take my word for that.’

  ‘Hello, Anabeth,’ a woman’s voice said, just off her right shoulder. ‘We heard you might be in town.’

  Off her left shoulder, a male voice joined in stereo: ‘That was ten seconds, by the way. Might as well let the egghead go.’

  Anabeth recognized both voices immediately. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to shriek in frustration. She glanced at the angle of the sunlight and thought, this is getting us nowhere. Another part of her wondered if maybe their luck was holding after all.

  She followed her gut and uncocked the Beretta. It was a palpable relief. Like stepping away from the edge of a building, even if you’d had no i
ntention of jumping in the first place. She lowered the gun, stood on tiptoe, and kissed Devon on the cheek before he could flinch away. ‘Sorry about that, Dev. Please know I’d never have plugged you.’

  ‘Not cool,’ Devon blurted, stumbling a few steps forward. Jeremy reached out a hand to steady him, shaking his head, for once refraining from comment.

  ‘Connie,’ Anabeth said, turning to face the newcomers. ‘Si. Long time no see. I was starting to wonder if there’d been budget cuts or something.’

  Jeremy said, ‘You know these people?’

  ‘We’ve crossed paths.’

  ‘Glass, you’re still not listening,’ Deputy Curnow said. ‘Drop it now.’

  Agent West offered her a friendly smile. ‘I think he’s talking about that weapon you’re still holding.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Anabeth tucked the Beretta in her waistband. ‘You’re both looking well.’

  ‘You look exactly the same,’ Agent Battis said, extending his right hand.

  Anabeth had just enough time to think, But I’m obviously slipping.

  Because she’d no sooner identified the shaped-pulse Taser in the FDAB agent’s hand than its electrified barbs had bitten into her like angry horseflies, instantly replacing the forest around her with a sizzling lightning storm in her brain.

  Ben trudged back around to the front of the chapel to find Christine hugging Charley like he’d come home from war. The sight put an immediate lump in his throat, and he felt good for the first time since sunrise this morning. Longer.

  Then Christine saw him coming.

  In the time it took him to raise a wave, her face went from fury to concern to an expression he couldn’t interpret. She let Charley breathe a moment, looked Ben up and down, and said, ‘I thought you sounded different on the phone.’

  ‘I had some work done.’

  ‘I was sure you’d … slipped.’

  ‘Sober as a judge,’ Ben said. ‘Frankie’s with the others. She’s safe.’

  ‘I already told her,’ Charley said. His spirits seemed noticeably lifted.

  ‘Who is Abe?’ Christine asked. ‘What others is Francesca with? Where are you going?’

  ‘I can’t stick around, and neither can you guys. Head south until I call you, there’s no time to explain why. Charley will fill you in. But you need to get him out of here.’

  ‘Dad. Give it up.’ Charley turned to Christine. ‘He has a concussion.’

  ‘I don’t know whose car that is,’ Christine called after him, ‘but the police are looking for it. So wherever you think you’re going, you probably won’t get far.’

  Shit. Ben stopped, turned, and hustled back to them, wincing with each stride. He held out Riya Mallipudi’s car keys. ‘In that case, I need another favor.’

  ‘What you need is a hospital.’

  ‘Funny you should say that. Listen, honey, here’s the truth: I’m not really sure where I’m going. Maybe I can find the thing somehow. Lead it away from people. I just know I can’t sit around in one place for too long, and neither can Charley. Abe can fix all this, but until then, we need to get him as far away from here as possible.’

  ‘Again, who is this Abe person? What thing are you talking about? You’re still not making any sense.’

  ‘Charley knows everything. If you guys get pulled over heading south, at least you’ll be south …’

  He heard a sudden loud hiss somewhere behind him. Ben wheeled around, startled, momentarily disoriented. Then he panicked, a single thought flashing like neon in his brain: Where’s Charley?

  Then he saw Riya Mallipudi’s car sagging back on its haunches. The sound came again, and a moment later, Charley appeared around the front bumper. He stooped and plunged his nifty new pocketknife into the front passenger tire: hissss. Then the rear. Then he straightened and walked back toward them, refolding the knife as he moved.

  ‘Oops,’ he said. ‘Guess Mom’s driving.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  When Anabeth came back to herself, she was on the ground, and so was Gordon Frerking. Between the two of them, Gordon was the only one with FDAB Field Agent Constance West’s knee in his back. Also the only one in handcuffs. Agent Battis stood over both of them with a puffy left eye. He held Anabeth’s Beretta in one hand, the Taser in the other.

  Anabeth herself was still connected to the Taser’s barbed leads like a problem dog on an electric leash. She sat up in the crunching leaf litter. Her old-fashioned mercury fillings felt hot in her molars. She looked up at Agent Battis and said, ‘Come on, Simon. Was that nice?’

  ‘You were instructed to relinquish your weapon,’ Battis said. ‘Multiple times.’

  ‘And Connie. Why are you sitting on Gordon?’

  Agent West sighed. ‘He assaulted a federal agent while you were being electrocuted.’

  Gordon spat out a leaf. ‘He had it coming.’

  ‘I’m not saying I disagree with you,’ West said. ‘Now. If I take these off and let you up, are you going to behave?’

  ‘Probably. Are you going to let me buy you a drink later?’

  ‘Probably not, but nice of you to ask.’

  ‘The age difference isn’t a problem, trust me.’

  ‘You should have stopped while I was still thinking about taking these cuffs off you.’

  Agent Battis scowled at them with his puffy eye, turning back to Anabeth. ‘Where’s Frost?’

  ‘Tied to a bed in Missouri Valley, Iowa, last time I saw him.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Get your mind out of the gutter.’ Anabeth moved her right hand slowly toward the barbs stuck in her upper chest. ‘May I? Or were you planning on torturing more information out of me?’

  Battis raised the Taser. ‘Frost.’

  ‘He’s probably in custody by now. I’m sure you can confirm that.’ Tired of waiting for permission, Anabeth winced as she grabbed the wires and yanked the barbs out of herself anyway. ‘We haven’t worked together in a decade and a half, Battis. You know that perfectly well.’

  ‘Things change.’

  ‘Not everything changes.’ Anabeth stood up and brushed herself off. ‘And now we’ve wasted even more daylight playing grab-ass out here in the trees. Agent West. Agent Battis. Please, take control of this site. Help me help everybody.’

  From atop the cut bank, Deputy Curnow said, ‘I’d say some good faith is in order.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know who Frost is. But it doesn’t sound like he lives in Saunders County, so I don’t much care. Where’s Middleton?’

  ‘I’ll take you straight to him,’ Anabeth said. ‘That’s where we’re going as soon as we find it.’

  ‘Find what?’ Agent West said.

  ‘There’s a shem.’

  Curnow said, ‘A what now?’

  ‘A magical object inscribed with the secret name of God,’ Agent Battis said. ‘It’s what makes the golem go. She’s just stalling.’

  ‘No. Loew made a second one. A failsafe – he called it the Shepherd Stone. We lost it back here this morning, during the first attack. It’s the only way to stop the creature.’

  ‘You mean the only way to become its master.’

  ‘That’s what Malcom wanted. Not me.’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘Battis! If you think I want to stay chained to that stinking brute for more lifetimes than I have already, then we’re just wasting more time!’

  Curnow: ‘Say again?’

  Meanwhile, Gordon rejoined his peers, rubbing the cuff marks out of his wrists. Jeremy shook his head in admiration. ‘Dude. That was straight boss.’

  ‘Come on, guys,’ Anabeth prompted the agents. ‘Let’s let bygones be bygones and crowd-source this thing. There aren’t any answers at the house. It’s all back here. This is the whole ball game.’

  Before anyone could respond, Curnow’s phone rang. While he was answering it, Agent West’s went off as well. Then Battis’s. Then Curnow’s radio erupted in a sudden crackle of chatter. A
ll at once the quiet forest was abeep with sounds of modern notification. Anabeth thought of a whitetail buck snorting to alert the herd: Something amiss. Look alive, everybody.

  State Patrol Sergeant Andrew Yost tried to keep a flexible mind, operationally speaking. In his time with Troop A Special Weapons and Tactics, he’d seen plenty of crazy shit. You relied on your training, your instincts, your hard-won experience, and whatever actionable intelligence happened to be available. What you didn’t do was make presuppositions before you rammed in the door.

  Then again, maybe his mind wasn’t quite so flexible after all.

  Because he’d still been operating under the presumption – despite what they’d been hearing over the radio, and right up until it was already too late – that there were no such things as actual monsters.

  They moved out of Louisville in response to multiple calls reporting ‘some kind of Bigfoot’ crossing State 31, along the north bank of the Platte. Yost and his team picked up a trail that included, over a twelve-mile distance: a few toppled trees; one ruptured grain silo; scads of fresh gouges in the earth; an overturned Case IH Model 4416 combine with a sixteen-row corn head; and four Polled Hereford steers with no heads at all.

  The trail ran out just west of Springfield, at which time Lawler, behind the wheel of the BearCat, pointed through the windscreen and said, ‘Sarge?’

  ‘I see it,’ Yost said.

  Although he couldn’t have reported precisely what he was looking at. Directly ahead of them, two mysterious, glowing green points seemed to hang in midair. Somehow, the points grew steadily brighter, even in the sunlight.

  And then … there it was. Shimmering to life in front of them. Some kind of faceless, nutless, green-eyed hulk, hunching its shoulders as it charged.

  Lawler let out a war-whoop and hit the gas, ramping up speed to meet the thing head-on.

  ‘Hold tight!’ Yost called to the back, bracing himself for a collision that never came.

  ‘Holy shit, that thing can jump,’ Lawler said, craning forward for a better view as he cranked the wheel around.

  They lit the thing up through the gun ports until support from the Sarpy County Sheriff’s Department arrived. But that time, Yost and his team had fired no fewer than a dozen 40-millimeter grenades, along with enough 5.56×45mm NATO rounds to sink a naval destroyer. All to no lasting effect. The thing just kept … getting up. Yost had never experienced anything like it. Except maybe in some horrible stress nightmare. And he couldn’t remember ever having a stress nightmare quite like this.