by Brian Hodge
“Okay. Now take that popgun outa your belt and drop it on the floor. You do that real slow. Or maybe I don’t just kill you. I let Joshua do what he wants to with the lil girl there. Whatcha think about that, mister?”
“I think you’re full of it. You haven’t gone through all of this just so your brother can have his way with her.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step forward, so that Copeland could smell the acrid odor of sweat and cigarette smoke. “You don’t know nothing about me, mister smart man. You think you understand someone like me? You don’t know nothing. It don’t matter to me what he does to that lil girl. Maybe I like her a little more…tame…before I take her my way. When Joshua’s done, they tame. They always tame.”
“You’re a sick bastard.”
With surprising quickness, Levi jabbed him in the cheek with the gun barrel, hard enough to snap his head back. He grimaced as pain shot through his skull and down his neck; but he felt a moment’s satisfaction that he had riled the man sufficiently to provoke a reaction. It was a small chance, but if he could incite the other to anger, he might be able to turn it to his advantage.
“You won’t face me without your weapons, will you? You’re nothing but chickenshit, you know that?”
Levi ignored him for the moment and turned briefly to his brother. “Joshua. Bag her.”
From behind his back, the ugly man drew a rolled length of material, which Copeland realized was a large burlap sack. Unceremoniously, Joshua placed it over her head, and when she raised her arms to resist, he smacked her solidly in the temple, stunning her long enough for him to tug the bag fully over her upper body. Like a magician, he produced a length of cord, which he deftly wrapped around the open end of the sack and tied tight, rendering her arms immobile.
“Get her up.”
One of his arms encircled Debra’s waist, and he heaved her bodily to her feet; then he shoved her against the wall, holding her upright with a hand upon her breast, which drove a blade of fury through Copeland’s skull. She exhaled sharply from the blow but then began to breathe deeply but steadily.
Without warning, Levi swung his shotgun around and, with its butt, caught Copeland squarely in the solar plexus. A brilliant starburst exploded before his eyes, his breath whooshed from his lungs as if suctioned by a vacuum, and he pitched heavily to the floor, struggling furiously to draw air into his lungs. The whirling lights slowed and dwindled, but when he could see relatively clearly again, he found that Levi and Joshua had switched places; Levi now pinned Debra against the wall while Joshua stood before him, nimbly twirling in his fingers a wicked-looking hunting knife with a serrated blade.
“Much better,” Levi said. He gripped Debra by the back of her neck and sent her lurching toward the door. “Joshua’s gonna fix you up real good. Me and Miz Harrington’ll say goodbye now.” With that, Levi dragged Debra through the door and out of sight. Copeland heard her whimper as she stumbled down the stairs, totally at the other’s mercy.
Then the front door slammed and they were gone, leaving Copeland on his knees, dazed and gaping at a murderous, knife-wielding thing with a leering, barely human face.
My God, she was really gone. The Barrow brothers had just walked in and taken her.
He had failed to keep his promise to her.
“You know,” he muttered hoarsely, “those creatures are going to kill you. Levi will probably be dead before he gets back home.”
Joshua made an odd creaking sound in his throat, which Copeland realized was a giggle. “You got imagination,” he cackled, his eyes shining beneath his brutish, bony brow. “But no damn sense. Stupid sumbitch.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?”
Joshua lunged forward with his free hand, driving his fist into Copeland’s gut, knocking him to the floor, the blow again stealing his breath. A strong hand gripped his collar, and he felt himself being dragged toward the front window; Joshua re-sheathed his knife, then with both hands lifted Copeland off the floor. For a panicked moment, he thought the other was going to hurl him to his death, but then his back slammed against the wooden rocking chair, and the strong hands pulled his arms behind his back, agony arcing through his nearly dislocated shoulders. With no strength to resist, he could only docilely allow Joshua to bind his wrists with a rough length of cord.
“I’ll enlighten you, mister smart man, yep, yep. I’m gonna enlighten you for a long, long time.” Joshua again drew his knife from the leather sheath that hung from his belt.
Copeland tried to ignore the surge of fear spreading rapidly from his chest. “Joshua…what makes you think those things are any friends of yours? They’re not. They’re going to kill you…you and your whole family.”
The malformed face split into a snaggle-toothed grin. “Yeah? Whatever could give you such a notion?”
The cruel-looking blade gleamed before his eyes; then he felt icy metal touch his cheek, followed by a sudden, searing heat as it cut a deep gash from his cheekbone to his jaw. He cried out, more from shock than pain, but within seconds, the wound began to throb, and warm blood was streaming down his neck and over his collarbone.
“I said whatever gives you such a notion?”
Now Copeland kept his mouth shut, and Joshua leaned down close to his ear.
“I’m gonna do that again in just a minute, by the way. And again and again. Until there’s nothing left of you but little pieces that I’m gonna feed to our new friends. But they gonna have to wait a while. A long while. You got that?”
“It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” Copeland spat, strangely bolstered rather than overcome by the pain. “You can’t escape what’s going to happen to you. If I don’t live to see it, well…more’s the pity.”
“You not going to live to see anything but your blood spilling all over this floor.” To his alarm, Joshua moved behind him, out of his view; then he felt the cold steel touch the back of his neck and slowly glide toward his right ear, as if his tormentor were searching for the most sensitive area to cut. “What say we lose the ears next?” The pressure of the blade increased suddenly at the back of his ear.
“Wait,” Copeland hissed, terror now beginning to boil up inside him. “Wait. Let’s talk first. You want to know what I know about the Lumeras, right?”
“Well, I dunno,” Joshua said, as if he were speaking to a child. “I dunno how much we really got to talk about.”
“The Lumeras,” he said, trying vainly to swivel his head away from the blade. “It was Major Martin who told me about them. He knew a lot about them.”
The knife slipped away from his ear and came to rest on his shoulder. “Old Major Martin done a lot of good for us folks. But he weren’t everything he seemed to be. Turns out he was just a liar.” He stepped around into Copeland’s view again and leaned close to his face. “He’s always been a liar. He lied to you, too.”
“No. What he told me was no lie. The evidence is everywhere. All around us. They’re changing the land itself. You think it’s your grandfather doing that?”
“Yeah, yeah, Granddaddy done that. He’s making this place into something else. Just for us. Just for us, you got that?”
“Your granddaddy just started these events in motion. But they’re beyond him now. Or soon will be. And then…Joshua…those things are going to rip everyone apart. You, your brother, your granddaddy…everyone.”
“Old Major Martin never talked to ’em, did he?”
Copeland shook his head in surprise. “Talked to them?”
Joshua laughed boisterously. “Yeah, talked to ’em. Me, I done that. They told me what they doing here and why. So anything Major Martin knew, or thought he knew, well, that was just bullshit. I know, mister smart man. I know.”
“Joshua…even if you were able to communicate with them…they’re not human. They couldn’t possibly think like humans. They kill people. How could you have faith in them?”
The homely creature again leaned into Copeland’s face, his eyes hotter tha
n burning embers. “What matters that they kill? Getting rid of pitiful, useless garbage, that’s all they doing. You wouldn’t know nothing about that, would you? They getting rid of them what took my daddy away and got ’im killed, that beat down my granddaddy cause he never went to their churches or their schools. He’s just as good as any of them—better’n them!—but they hurt him. They hurt him so bad. They hurt all of us. Now he’s just getting a piece of what he always deserved. For his family. All for his family. And for my ma—” Joshua suddenly fell silent and scowled thoughtfully; then he abruptly took the knife and ran its blade along Copeland’s jawline, drawing blood. Shocked, Copeland bit back a yelp, the pain hot and jarring, but still manageable. He swallowed hard.
“What about your mother, Joshua?”
“I didn’t say nothing about my mama.”
He tried to inject some compassion in his voice. “You were treated unfairly, so you’re looking to punish the guilty. But what about the innocent, Joshua? What about everyone else who’s getting hurt?”
Joshua appeared to calm somewhat. “Ain’t no one innocent in this town. So they gonna die. All of ’em.”
“It’s not all about your grandfather, is it, Joshua? Tell me about your mother.”
“Weren’t never anything wrong with my mother. You don’t even talk about her. You say one more word about my mama, and I’m gonna cut out your tongue.” He paused and bowed his head for a moment, as if in deep thought. When he looked at Copeland again, his face split into a wide grin, and he said, “Know what? I’m tired of talking to you anyway.”
With that, he suddenly gripped the back of Copeland’s neck in one hand and began to squeeze, just behind his jaw. He gasped, and as his mouth opened, Joshua quickly slipped the knife between his teeth, nicking his tongue. He began to apply pressure with the blade, using its flat edge to force Copeland’s jaw wider.
“No more talking, mister smart man. Yeah, I think I’ll just cut your tongue right out. We’ll see how you like talking then.”
Positioning himself behind him, Joshua slid his arm around Copeland’s head and tugged it backward, forcing his mouth open, despite his most valiant effort to lock his jaw. The blade against his teeth prevented him from clamping down, and Joshua began to work the knife inward, its blade biting the inside of his cheek. Realizing with horror there was nothing he could do to thwart his bloodthirsty captor, he thrashed violently, rocking the chair back and forth, hoping now just to buy a few more moments.
“You son of bitch.”
For a second, everything went completely still and silent. Then, suddenly, the knife fell from his mouth, and the arm encircling his head drew away quickly. He heard a heavy thud, and Joshua’s body struck the chair, nearly upending him. Craning his head around, he saw Doug McAllister clutching a shotgun, which he had obviously just used as a club. The brutish figure on the floor started to scramble toward his attacker, but McAllister brought the butt squarely down on his head, laying him out on the hardwood surface. With a groan, Joshua covered his head with his hands and lay still.
For good measure, McAllister’s foot lashed out and connected solidly with Joshua’s kidneys. He screeched in anguish, wrapped his arms around his abdomen, and tried to roll away, but the shotgun came down again and whacked him solidly on his bony forehead. This time when he went motionless, blood began to pool on the floor beneath his temple.
“Jesus,” McAllister whispered, taking in the sight of his bound friend. “Hold still, I’ll untie you.”
“Levi took her,” Copeland groaned, spitting blood on the floor. “I couldn’t stop him.”
“We’ll get her back. Don’t fret. Right now, let’s take care of you.” He worked at the knots for a time, futilely, and finally said, “I’m gonna have to cut this. Hold still.” Retrieving Joshua’s knife, he used the bloodstained blade to saw through the cord. When it fell away, Copeland’s arms dropped limply to his sides, dead from the shoulders down. He swung his shoulders back and forth for a minute, gradually getting the blood circulating again.
“You’re very late.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t be helped.” McAllister leaned close to Copeland’s face. “Damn, man. You must’ve pissed that bastard off right royally. Way to go. But he’s cut you good. That cheek could use some stitches. The jaw’s not so bad. I got a first-aid kit in the truck we can patch you up with. If there’s no bandages, I got duct tape.”
“I’ve always sworn by duct tape.”
“Come on, let’s get you into the bathroom and cleaned up.” He helped Copeland to his feet, bracing his arm to make sure he didn’t fall.
“What about him?”
McAllister regarded the fallen figure for several seconds, tossed the knife in the air, and caught it by the haft. “Maybe we should just kill him.” He eyed Copeland questioningly. “What do you think?”
He fought down the acid rage that crept up his throat as he gazed at his former tormentor. “He deserves death. A little while ago, I was ready to kill the lot of them. Now, though…I’m not so sure it sits right with me.”
“When he comes to, he’ll be madder than hell. We can’t just let him go free.”
“No. That we can’t do.”
McAllister pondered the point for a moment; then his face turned rock-hard as he made his decision. Kneeling, he rolled up the fallen man’s pants legs, exposing his ankles and lower calves. Then, with the serrated blade, he cut deeply into one of his hamstrings, releasing a rich red flow of blood. Joshua cried out loudly and suddenly began to thrash; undaunted, McAllister deftly cut the tendon of the other leg, then neatly rolled down his trouser legs before stepping away. A whimpering sound came from Joshua’s throat, and he rolled onto his back, tears streaming from his eyes. Copeland grimaced and felt an unexpected pang of guilt, despite his satisfaction that this was nothing more than simple justice. “Jesus, Candle,” he whispered.
“I suppose he might bleed to death,” McAllister said flippantly. “But knowing him, he’ll figure out a way to stop it before then. Entirely up to him.”
Copeland nodded and put a hand to his throbbing cheek. His fingers came away slick and red, and all traces of guilt vanished. McAllister took up a lantern and led him to the bathroom, where he insisted on cleaning his own cuts with the frigid water.
“Back in a second.” McAllister disappeared and soon returned with all the guns. “Wanted to make sure he couldn’t get to any of these.”
Copeland splashed a handful of water onto his cheek and patted it gingerly with his fingers. “So what happened to you? We were afraid you’d bought it.”
Just then, below, the front door creaked slowly open. McAllister called out, “Carolyn?”
“Yes,” came her soft voice.
“Up here.”
A moment later, she appeared at the bathroom door, her face ashen, but her eyes relieved to see her husband safe. When they fell on Copeland’s face, she gasped. “God, what happened?”
“Joshua Barrow happened.”
“Where is he?”
McAllister pointed to the master bedroom. “Do not go in there. I’ve hurt him, but he may still be dangerous.”
She placed a concerned hand on Copeland’s shoulder. “I’ve got some ibuprofen in my purse—in the truck. I can get it for you.”
“The first-aid kit should be in the back. Grab it, will you?” She nodded and started down the stairs again. “Watch yourself out there,” McAllister called after her.
“I will.”
He looked appraisingly at Copeland’s cheek. “The cut’s pretty clean, so if you don’t do anything to make it worse, it’ll heal up okay.”
“Thanks. So, Candle, what’s your story?”
“You know, after all we’d seen tonight, I thought I had prepared myself for what we might run into. Shit.” He clicked his tongue. “Everything was completely changed, just north of our house. We drove for hours, got into woods and such that I’ve never seen before, and kept ending up back at the same place. It was beyond
freaky. I’ve never felt so completely…lost.”
“It must have changed after we passed through. It’s enough to drive you insane if you think about it.”
“At least we didn’t see any of those creatures—not up close, anyway. But there were lots of lights in the sky, all rushing back the way they came from earlier.”
“Really?” Copeland bit his lip. “Interesting.”
“Then, out of the blue, everything returned to normal. We were on some strange road, in deep woods, and then…suddenly…I knew where we were again. And that’s how we made it here—just in time, by the look of things.”
“Another minute, and we wouldn’t be talking together now.” His stomach quivered at the thought of the cruel torture—and death—he had very narrowly escaped. “By the way…do you know anything about Joshua’s mother?”
McAllister raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“Seemed to be a sore point with him.”
“Well, go figure. Word’s always been that his mother was his daddy’s sister. She died when he and Levi were kids.”
Copeland grimaced. “I see. Well, I guess that fits.”
They heard the front door open and close again, and soon Carolyn reappeared, carrying a floral scarf and a small, blue and white plastic box. “Not much in here, but at least there’s gauze, tape, and peroxide,” she said.
“That’ll do nicely,” McAllister said. “Now, you mind taking over here? I’d better make sure whosit’s not getting into any mischief.”
She nodded, opened the kit, and handed a roll of surgical tape to Copeland. “Hold this.” He complied, while she knelt to sort through the contents of the box. Taking a small bottle of peroxide, she soaked one end of the scarf, which she used to dab away the blood on Copeland’s face. The sudden sting nearly caused him to reel, but he managed to hold still for her. She took a few squares of sterile gauze, pressed them over his wound, and said, “Pull off a couple of pieces of tape, will you? I need to secure these.”
