by Brian Hodge
“Like the folks didn’t do nothing when Gimet was alive,” Old Time said. “Folks like me that let what went on go on.”
Jebidiah nodded. “Maybe.”
The deputy looked at Jebidiah. “Not you too, Reverend. You should know better than that. There ain’t but one true god, and ain’t none of that hoodoo business got a drop of truth to it.”
“If there’s one god,” Jebidiah said, “there can be many. They are at war with one another, that’s how it works, or so I think. I’ve seen some things that have shook my faith in the one true god, the one I’m servant to. And what is our god but hoodoo? It’s all hoodoo, my friend.”
“Okay. What things have you seen, Reverend?” the deputy asked.
“No use describing it to you, young man,” Jebidiah said. “You wouldn’t believe me. But I’ve recently come from Mud Creek. It had an infestation of a sort. That town burned down, and I had a hand in it.”
“Mud Creek,” Old Timer said. “I been there.”
“Only thing there now,” Jebidiah said, “is some charred wood.”
“Ain’t the first time it’s burned down,” Old Timer said. “Some fool always rebuilds it, and with it always comes some kind of ugliness. I’ll tell you straight. I don’t doubt your word at all, Reverend.”
“Thing is,” the deputy said, “I don’t believe in no haints. That’s the shortest road, and it’s the road I’m gonna take.”
“I wouldn’t,” Old Timer said.
“Thanks for the advice. But no one goes with me or does, that’s the road I’m taking, provided it cuts a day off my trip.”
“I’m going with you,” Jebidiah said. “My job is striking at evil. Not to walk around it.”
“I’d go during the day,” Old Timer said. “Ain’t no one seen Gimet in the day, or when the moon is thin or not at all. But way it is now, it’s full, and will be again tomorrow night. I’d ride hard tomorrow, you’re determined to go. Get there as soon as you can, before dark.”
“I’m for getting there,” the deputy said. “I’m for getting back to Nacogdoches, and getting this bastard in a cell.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jebidiah said. “But I want to be there at night. I want to take Deadman’s Road at that time. I want to see if Gimet is there. And if he is, send him to his final death. Defy those dark gods the girl’s mother called up. Defy them and loose my god on him. What I’d suggest is you get some rest, deputy. Old Timer here can watch a bit, then I’ll take over. That way we all get some rest. We can chain this fellow to a tree outside, if we have to. We should both get slept up to the gills, then leave here mid-day, after a good dinner, head out for Deadman’s Road. Long as we’re there by nightfall.”
“That ought to bring you right on it,” Old Timer said. “You take Deadman’s Road. When you get to the fork, where the road ends, you go right. Ain’t no one ever seen Gimet beyond that spot, or in front of where the road begins. He’s tied to that stretch, way I heard it.”
“Good enough,” the deputy said. “I find this all foolish, but if I can get some rest, and have you ride along with me, Reverend, then I’m game. And I’ll be fine with getting there at night.”
Next morning they slept late, and had an early lunch. Beans and hard biscuits again, a bit of stewed squirrel. Old Timer had shot the rodent that morning while Jebidiah watched Bill sit on his ass, his hands chained around a tree in the front yard. Inside the cabin, the deputy had continued to sleep.
But now they all sat outside eating, except for Bill.
“What about me?” Bill asked, tugging at his chained hands.
“When we finish,” Old Timer said. “Don’t know if any of the squirrel will be left, but we got them biscuits for you. I can promise you some of them. I might even let you rub one of them around in my plate, sop up some squirrel gravy.”
“Those biscuits are awful,” Bill said.
“Ain’t they,” Old Timer said.
Bill turned his attention to Jebidiah. “Preacher, you ought to just go on and leave me and the boy here alone. Ain’t smart for you to ride along, cause I get loose, ain’t just the deputy that’s gonna pay. I’ll put you on the list.”
“After what I’ve seen in this life,” Jebidiah said, “you are nothing to me. An insect… So, add me to your list.”
“Let’s feed him,” the deputy said, nodding at Bill, “and get to moving. I’m feeling rested and want to get this ball started.”
The moon had begun to rise when they rode in sight of Deadman’s Road. The white cross road sign was sticking up beside the road. Trees and brush had grown up around it, and between the limbs and the shadows, the crudely painted words on the sign were halfway readable in the waning light. The wind had picked up and was grabbing at leaves, plucking them from the ground, tumbling them about, tearing them from trees and tossing them across the narrow, clay road with a sound like mice scuttling in straw.
“Fall always depresses me,” the deputy said, halting his horse, taking a swig from his canteen.
“Life is a cycle,” Jebidiah said. “You’re born, you suffer, then you’re punished.”
The deputy turned in his saddle to look at Jebidiah. “You ain’t much on that resurrection and reward, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“I don’t know about you,” the deputy said, “but I wish we hadn’t gotten here so late. I’d rather have gone through in the day.”
“Thought you weren’t a believer in spooks?” Bill said, and made with his now familiar snort. “You said it didn’t matter to you.”
The deputy didn’t look at Bill when he spoke. “I wasn’t here then. Place has a look I don’t like. And I don’t enjoy temptin’ things. Even if I don’t believe in them.”
“That’s the silliest thing I ever heard,” Bill said.
“Wanted me with you,” Jebidiah said. “You had to wait.”
“You mean to see something, don’t you, preacher?” Bill said.
“If there is something to see,” Jebidiah said.
“You believe Old Timer’s story?” the deputy said. “I mean, really?”
“Perhaps.”
Jebidiah clucked to his horse and took the lead.
When they turned onto Deadman’s Road, Jebidiah paused and removed a small, fat Bible from his saddlebag.
The deputy paused too, forcing Bill to pause as well. “You ain’t as ornery as I thought,” the deputy said. “You want the peace of the Bible just like anyone else.”
“There is no peace in this book,” Jebidiah said. “That’s a real confusion. Bible isn’t anything but a book of terror, and that’s how God is: Terrible. But the book has power. And we might need it.”
“I don’t know what to think about you, Reverend,” the deputy said.
“Ain’t nothin’ you can think about a man that’s gone loco,” Bill said. “I don’t want to stay with no man that’s loco.”
“You get an idea to run, Bill, I can shoot you off your horse,” the deputy said. “Close range with my revolver, far range with my rifle. You don’t want to try it.”
“It’s still a long way to Nacogdoches,” Bill said.
The road was narrow and of red clay. It stretched far ahead like a band of blood, turned sharply to the right around a wooded curve where it was a dark as the bottom of Jonah’s whale. The blowing leaves seemed especially intense on the road, scrapping dryly about, winding in the air like giant hornets. The trees, which grew thick, bent in the wind, from right to left. This naturally led the trio to take to the left side of the road.
The farther they went down the road, the darker it became. By the time they got to the curve, the woods were so thick, and the thunderous skies had grown so dark, the moon was barely visible; its light was as weak as a sick baby’s grip.
When they had traveled for some time, the deputy said, obviously feeling good about it, “There ain’t nothing out here ’sides what you would expect. A possum maybe. The wind.”
“Good for you, then,” Jebid
iah said. “Good for us all.”
“You sound disappointed to me,” the deputy said.
“My line of work isn’t far from yours, Deputy. I look for bad guys of a sort, and try and send them to hell… Or in some cases, back to hell.”
And then, almost simultaneous with a flash of lightning, something crossed the road not far in front of them.
“What the hell was that?” Bill said, coming out of what had been a near stupor.
“It looked like a man,” the deputy said.
“Could have been,” Jebidiah said. “Could have been.”
“What do you think it was?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I do.”
“Gimet,” Jebidiah said.
The sky let the moon loose for a moment, and its light spread through the trees and across the road. In the light there were insects, a large wad of them, buzzing about in the air.
“Bees,” Bill said. “Damn if them ain’t bees. And at night. That ain’t right.”
“You an expert on bees?” the deputy asked.
“He’s right,” Jebidiah said. “And look, they’re gone now.”
“Flew off,” the deputy said.
“No…no they didn’t,” Bill said. “I was watching, and they didn’t fly nowhere. They’re just gone. One moment they were there, then they was gone, and that’s all there is to it. They’re like ghosts.”
“You done gone crazy,” the deputy said.
“They are not insects of this earth,” Jebidiah said. “They are familiars.”
“What,” Bill said.
“They assist evil, or evil beings,” Jebidiah said. “In this case, Gimet. They’re like a witch’s black cat familiar. Familiars take on animal shapes, insects, that sort of thing.”
“That’s ridiculous,” the deputy said. “That don’t make no kind of sense at all.”
“Whatever you say,” Jebidiah said, “but I would keep my eyes alert, and my senses raw. Wouldn’t hurt to keep your revolvers loose in their holsters. You could well need them. Though, come to think of it, your revolvers won’t be much use.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Bill said.
Jebidiah didn’t answer. He continued to urge his horse on, something that was becoming a bit more difficult as they went. All of the horses snorted and turned their heads left and right, tugged at their bits; their ears went back and their eyes went wide.
“Holy hell,” Bill said, “what’s that?”
Jebidiah and the deputy turned to look at him. Bill was turned in the saddle, looking back. They looked too, just in time to see something that looked pale blue in the moonlight, dive into the brush on the other side of the road. Black dots followed, swarmed in the moonlight, then darted into the bushes behind the pale, blue thing like a load of buckshot.
“What was that?” the deputy said. His voice sounded as if it had been pistol whipped.
“Already told you,” Jebidiah said.
“That couldn’t have been nothing human,” the deputy said.
“Don’t you get it,” Bill said, “that’s what the preacher is trying to tell you. It’s Gimet, and he ain’t nowhere alive. His skin was blue. And he’s all messed up. I seen more than you did. I got a good look. And them bees. We ought to break out and ride hard.”
“Do as you choose,” the Reverend said. “I don’t intend to.”
“And why not?” Bill said.
“That isn’t my job.”
“Well, I ain’t got no job. Deputy, ain’t you supposed to make sure I get to Nacogdoches to get hung? Ain’t that your job?”
“It is.”
“Then we ought to ride on, not bother with this fool. He wants to fight some grave crawler, then let him. Ain’t nothing we ought to get into.”
“We made a pact to ride together,” the deputy said. “So we will.”
“I didn’t make no pact,” Bill said.
“Your word, your needs, they’re nothing to me,” the deputy said.
At that moment, something began to move through the woods on their left. Something moving quick and heavy, not bothering with stealth. Jebidiah looked in the direction of the sounds, saw someone, or something, moving through the underbrush, snapping limbs aside like they were rotten sticks. He could hear the buzz of the bees, loud and angry. Without really meaning to, he urged the horse to a trot. The deputy and Bill joined in with their own mounts, keeping pace with the Reverend’s horse.
They came to a place off the side of the road where the brush thinned, and out in the distance they could see what looked like bursting white waves, frozen against the dark. But they soon realized it was tombstones. And there were crosses. A graveyard. The graveyard Old Timer had told them about. The sky had cleared now, the wind had ceased to blow hard. They had a fine view of the cemetery, and as they watched, the thing that had been in the brush moved out of it and went up the little rise where the graves were, climbed up on one of the stones and sat. A black cloud formed around its head, and the sound of buzzing could be heard all the way out to the road. The thing sat there like a king on a throne. Even from that distance it was easy to see it was nude, and male, and his skin was gray—blue in the moonlight—and the head looked misshapen. Moon glow slipped through cracks in the back of the horror’s head and poked out of fresh cracks at the front of its skull and speared out of the empty eye sockets. The bee’s nest, visible through the wound in its chest, was nestled between the ribs. It pulsed with a yellow-honey glow. From time to time, little black dots moved around the glow and flew up and were temporarily pinned in the moonlight above the creature’s head.
“Jesus,” said the deputy.
“Jesus won’t help a bit,” Jebidiah said.
“It’s Gimet, ain’t it? He…it…really is dead,” the deputy said.
“Undead,” Jebidiah said. “I believe he’s toying with us. Waiting for when he plans to strike.”
“Strike?” Bill said. “Why?”
“Because that is his purpose,” Jebidiah said, “as it is mine to strike back. Gird your loins men, you will soon be fighting for your life.”
“How about we just ride like hell?” Bill said.
In that moment, Jebidiah’s words became prophetic. The thing was gone from the grave stone. Shadows had gathered at the edge of the woods, balled up, become solid, and when the shadows leaped from the even darker shadows of the trees, it was the shape of the thing they had seen on the stone, cool blue in the moonlight, a disaster of
a face, and the teeth… They were long and sharp. Gimet leaped in such a way that his back foot hit the rear of Jebidiah’s animal, allowing him to spring over the deputy’s horse, to land hard and heavy on Bill. Bill let out a howl and was knocked off his mount. When he hit the road, his hat flying, Gimet grabbed him by his bushy head of straw-colored hair and dragged him off as easily as if he were a kitten. Gimet went into the trees, tugging Bill after him. Gimet blended with the darkness there. The last of Bill was a scream, the raising of his cuffed hands, the cuffs catching the moonlight for a quick blink of silver, then there was a rustle of leaves and a slapping of branches, and Bill was gone.
“My God,” the deputy said. “My God. Did you see that thing?”
Jebidiah dismounted, moved to the edge of the road, leading his horse, his gun drawn. The deputy did not dismount. He pulled his pistol and held it, his hands trembling. “Did you see that?” he said again, and again.
“My eyes are as good as your own,” Jebidiah said. “I saw it. We’ll have to go in and get him.”
“Get him?” the deputy said. “Why in the name of everything that’s holy would we do that? Why would we want to be near that thing? He’s probably done what he’s done already… Damn, Reverend. Bill, he’s a killer. This is just as good as I might want. I say while the old boy is doing whatever he’s doing to that bastard, we ride like the goddamn wind, get on out on the far end of this road where it forks. Gimet is supposed to be only able to go on this stretch, ain’t he?
”
“That’s what Old Timer said. You do as you want. I’m going in after him.”
“Why? You don’t even know him.”
“It’s not about him,” Jebidiah said.
“Ah, hell. I ain’t gonna be shamed.” The deputy swung down from his horse, pointed at the place where Gimet had disappeared with Bill. “Can we get the horses through there?”
“Think we will have to go around a bit. I discern a path over there.”
“Discern?”
“Recognize. Come on, time is wasting.”
They went back up the road a pace, found a trail that led through the trees. The moon was strong now as all the clouds that had covered it had rolled away like windblown pollen. The air smelled fresh, but as they moved forward, that changed. There was a stench in the air, a putrid smell both sweet and sour, and it floated up and spoiled the freshness.
“Something dead,” the deputy said.
“Something long dead,” Jebidiah said.
Finally the brush grew so thick they had to tie the horses, leave them. They pushed their way through briars and limbs.
“There ain’t no path,” the deputy said. “You don’t know he come through this way.”
Jebidiah reached out and plucked a piece of cloth from a limb, held it up so that the moon dropped rays on it. “This is part of Bill’s shirt. Am I right?”
The deputy nodded. “But how could Gimet get through here? How could he get Bill through here?”
“What we pursue has little interest in the things that bother man. Limbs, briars. It’s nothing to the living dead.”
They went on for a while. Vines got in their way. The vines were wet. They were long, thick vines, and sticky, and finally they realized they were not vines at all, but guts, strewn about and draped like decorations.
“Fresh,” the deputy said. “Bill, I reckon.”
“You reckon right,” Jebidiah said.
They pushed on a little farther, and the trail widened, making the going easier. They found more pieces of Bill as they went along. The stomach. Fingers. Pants with one leg in them. A heart, which looked as if it has been bitten into and sucked on. Jebidiah was curious enough to pick it up and examine it. Finished, he tossed it in the dirt, wiped his hands on Bill’s pants, the one with the leg still in it, said, “Gimet just saved you a lot of bother and the State of Texas the trouble of a hanging.”
