by Brian Hodge
Copeland did, and once she had taped the gauze firmly in place, she handed him a handful of pills, which he placed on his tongue. He was just chasing them down with water from the tap when the shattering report of McAllister’s shotgun caused them both to jump nearly out of their skins.
Carolyn leaped toward the bedroom door, but her husband stepped out, his shotgun muzzle dribbling smoke. He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m all right. Everything’s all right.” To Copeland’s questioning glance, he said, “The son of bitch wanted to cut me. Had a nice shard of glass from the window in his hand. Guess he didn’t feel at home without a blade of some sort.”
“You shot him?” Carolyn asked, her eyes widening.
“Graveyard dead. He made to lunge at me, and damned if I was going to dick around with him any further. Far as I’m concerned, that’s one less piece of shit to contend with.”
“Oh, Doug,” she said with a distraught sigh. “Did you have to?”
“You know I did.”
Copeland shook his head in near-disbelief, a little rattled, but unwilling to waste a moment of remorse on that twisted wretch. He pressed the flimsy bandage tight against his throbbing cheek and felt blood dribble down his jaw. “Time’s wasting,” he said. “I’ve got to get to Debra. There’s no telling what’s going on out there now.”
“Well, it’s a sure bet where she is. There’s only one place Levi would take her.”
“I can’t ask either of you to go there with me. The chances of surviving…” He swallowed hard. “Well, they’re not good.”
“Debra is my friend too,” Carolyn said, somewhat defensively, as she repacked the first-aid kit. “Yeah, your chances are lousy by yourself. I say the more of us the better.”
“We all go. That’s just how it’s going to be,” McAllister said. He handed the Remington and the 9mm to Copeland, and Debra’s rifle and .38 to Carolyn. “It’s probably safe to say they won’t be expecting us. So let’s get to it. I’ll get the flashlights and the other lantern.”
He disappeared into the bedroom for a minute, while Copeland pulled on his heavy coat. As they started down the stairs, McAllister leading, Copeland found his legs barely able to support his weight. He was still in shock, his body exhausted and in pain, his emotions wrung out. “For all we know,” he muttered, “by the time we get there, the Lumeras may have finished them all off. Debra too.”
“Don’t be morbid,” Carolyn said.
McAllister glanced back thoughtfully at him. “Major Martin was pretty sure of what he was talking about, wasn’t he?”
“Everything he told us has proven true.”
As they went out into the dark night, Copeland immediately noticed that the air, though chilly, was distinctly warmer than before. A low breeze still stirred the trees, causing the bare branches to click ominously together—like chattering teeth, he thought. He could vaguely make out the silhouette of the pickup truck parked behind the Durango, and as he walked, he again felt himself somewhere outside his body, his limbs moving automatically, the pain a dull, distant sensation that meant little to him. He felt no hope, no despair; as long as he kept moving forward, continued functioning, he needed no other purpose. Even his fear for Debra seemed a remote, abstract thing, sizzling somewhere deep inside the body to which he barely felt connected.
“Better just take the one vehicle. Don’t want to chance getting separated. You can squeeze in up front with us or ride in the back, whichever you prefer.”
“I’ll take the back.”
“If they come after us, you’ll be completely exposed.”
“That much easier to shoot back.” He hauled himself into the back of the pickup, which was loaded with boxes and bundles—the supplies meant to sustain them while they holed up at the cabin. He found a couple of blankets he could sit on, and settled himself behind the cab, his rifle across his lap, the handguns tucked into his belt in easy reach. McAllister opened the sliding panel in the rear window so they could hear each other and cranked the engine. As they started down the rutted drive, Copeland noticed a dull, orange glow behind the cabin—there, next to the little outbuilding—but before his eyes could focus on it, the light vanished.
“Damnation,” he said. “I think one of those things is still here. If they really do communicate with each other, we may have just lost the element of surprise.”
“Nothing for us but to damn the torpedoes,” McAllister replied. “And hope we don’t end up on the lunar surface somewhere along the way.”
The truck bumped and jolted heavily down the long driveway, and Copeland had to hold onto the side of the truck to keep from bouncing right out of the back. Once they hit pavement, the going became smoother, and he was able to focus his attention on the dark, passing trees, alert for any sign of pursuit. McAllister was driving with his lights on, but that no longer seemed to matter; if the Lumeras desired to find them, they would; simple as that. Despite the rise in temperature, the wind still whipped him with a bone-numbing chill, and he tucked his hands beneath his armpits to keep them warm.
McAllister took the curves at dangerous speeds, but Copeland trusted his friend’s skill and good fortune. Hell, they had already surmounted impossible odds to get this far; if there was a chance of getting through this, he was with the right people to do it. Gradually, he began to feel reconnected with his body, and now, for the first time in a long time, he found himself praying earnestly—not for himself and his friends; the worst that could happen to them was death—but for Debra, whose fate lay in the hands of a lovesick madman.
Chapter 19
The darkness of the cellar had never particularly frightened Malachi, but with them worm things coming and going as they pleased, you never knew where one might pop up—and he sure didn’t like the idea of bumping into one unexpectedly. Nor did he care for the shuddersome, thorny vine-things that seemed to be slowly taking over the house. If them critters didn’t take a liking to the house’s proper occupants, what was to stop them from just killing everybody and doing as they pleased? That’s what was happening everywhere else, wasn’t it? Great-Granddaddy had taken to sleeping like the dead now, and Malachi was beginning to have his doubts that he was gonna ever wake up again. The old man kept looking paler and paler, his body wasting away a little more every hour he stayed asleep. His old boastfulness about how good they were gonna have it didn’t seem quite so reassuring anymore, not when he wouldn’t wake up no matter what was going on around him.
Even his own daddy had gotten worrisome lately, what with his temper getting so short—probably cause he was just as nervous as any of them over their changing circumstances—and his being gone almost all the time. Malachi chafed at the idea of his old man putting Ms. Harrington in the cellar and then telling him to make sure she stayed there—leaving only them Lumeras upstairs with Great-Granddaddy now. His daddy obviously didn’t much like that idea either, but he must have figured it was more important for Malachi to watch over Miz Harrington than the sleeping old man. He sure hated to see her tied up like this, since she had always been right kind to him. Well, if not kind, then fair, at least.
But he didn’t dare cross his daddy. He’d known that all his young life, but God help him, if he upset Daddy now he might just get fed to them ones. And that was just about the most awful thing he could imagine, cause he’d seen what happened to that little schoolboy when the Lumera got him.
All chewed up and burnt.
“Malachi…are you there?” The faint voice quivered out of the darkness.
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Where are you?”
“Just sitting on the stairs here.”
“Malachi, you know this isn’t right. Please…let me go.”
“Don’t think you understand, Miz Harrington. Can’t do that. Sorry you’re uncomfortable and everything, but it won’t be for much longer. That’s what my daddy promises.”
“Malachi, your daddy is wrong. You’ve got to understand that.”
“Don’t you say that. He ain’t, neither.”
“Look at what’s happening to the world around you, Malachi. Is it the kind of place you want to live in?”
“It’s gonna be better for us, Miz Harrington. It’ll be better for you too, if you just accept it, like Daddy says.”
“Do you really believe it’s going to be better? After you’ve seen what its masters do to people?”
“They not the masters, we are,” he said harshly. “My daddy and my great-granddaddy say we ain’t got nothing to fear and never will. You calling them liars?”
“Maybe they’re just mistaken, Malachi. Think about it.”
“You can’t do what my great-granddaddy done by mistake, Miz Harrington. Everybody always thought we was all so stupid, but now look at us. You oughta be glad to be where you are, Miz Harrington. Sorry if that sounds ugly and all, but it’s true. You show us all respect now, and you’ll be just fine, you hear?”
“Do you think it’s all right to kill people who don’t respect you?”
“Well…I don’t know that it’s ‘right,’ Miz Harrington, but you can bet people are getting what they deserve—for being like they been to us all these years. Treating us like dirt and such. Everybody calling me ‘Malarkey’ all the time. That kinda talk is over now. Hell, a lot of ’em ain’t gonna be talking no more at all.” He laughed nervously. “I know that worries you some, but Daddy’ll make you understand. Just listen to him, and respect him, and you’ll see him different than you do now. He thinks you’re an angel, you know that?”
“He’s got a fine way of showing it.”
“Miz Harrington, it ain’t us killing nobody. Them ones is doing it because they want to repay us for what Great-Granddaddy done for them. Bringing them across from wherever they live, and all.”
“Malachi, do you trust me?”
He hesitated. “Well, I reckon so, Miz Harrington. I mean, you always give me a chance where none of them others ever did.”
“I know it’s been hard for you, and I’ve tried to treat you fairly. I think you understand that. If you’ve ever trusted my word about anything, I want you to trust me on this. Those creatures…they’re no friends of yours. They’re very likely going to turn on you, and you’ll be no better off than any of the people they’ve killed. You have to believe me.”
He didn’t like to admit it, but Ms. Harrington seemed to be making sense. Still…nobody’s word could ever mean more to him than his own daddy’s, or even Great-Granddaddy’s. Then he thought of something. “How would you know anything about them Lumeras, Miz Harrington? Nobody else knows anything about them. Only my folks know.”
“That’s not entirely true, Malachi.”
Just then, the upstairs door creaked open, and a rectangle of light appeared above his head. He stood up as his daddy came down into the darkness, his booted feet clumping heavily on the wooden boards. Levi tugged the little chain hanging over the stairs, and the exposed 40-watt bulb came on, bathing the stairwell in dull, copper-colored light. Malachi could just make out Ms. Harrington huddled in the corner a few feet away, her eyes widening with fear as his daddy reached the bottom.
“You two having a good talk?” Levi asked.
“I reckon so.”
“Good, good. It’s about time for me and her to have a little talk too.” Malachi noticed that his father’s face appeared shadowed with concern. “I just checked on Granddaddy, and he still just sleeping away. Your uncle Joshua ain’t got home yet, though. I want you to go upstairs and keep an eye out for him. When he gets here, you tell him to get his ass down here.”
“Yessir.”
“Well, get on, and me and Miz Harrington gonna work on understanding each other a little better.”
“’Sir.”
Malachi went up the stairs, but something about the way his daddy spoke made him feel anxious. He knew Daddy would never hurt Ms. Harrington; after all, he meant for her to stay with them from here on out. Course, he also knew his daddy loved him, and sometimes the way he showed it weren’t too pleasant.
In the kitchen, he closed the door, but instead of going on up to Great-Granddaddy’s room, he stayed put, contemplating what Miz Harrington had said to him. She was wrong, simple as that; Daddy’d make her see things right, sure enough. Still, he couldn’t help worrying about her, so he slid up beside the door and pressed his ear to the rotting wood, knowing that if he got caught, it would mean big trouble for him. Still…his curiosity burned hotter than his fear.
“So, Miz Harrington,” he heard his father said in an uncharacteristically soft, almost meek voice. “I know you uncomfortable, so I’m gonna untie you, okay? I know you know better than to do anything stupid. Anyway, you got nothing to be afraid of here. Don’t nobody mean you any harm.”
“After what you’ve done, how could I trust anything you have to say?”
“You just not understanding yet, and I don’t fault you for it. It’ll take some adjusting and all. I mean, the whole world is changing for all of us. I reckon we’ll all have to get used to different things. Hold still now.”
A long silence followed, and then his father grunted.
“Watch it now. That’s good, you just be calm. Good girl.”
Another long silence.
“So you and Malachi getting along okay?”
“I feel sorry for him.”
“You been good to him, and I do appreciate that, I hope you know. Them others…”
“It’s not because of the ‘others’ that I feel for him. You’re a bastard, you know that?”
Malachi felt a jab of fear in his gut. It wouldn’t do to rile his daddy, not even for her.
But in a placating voice, Levi said, “Let’s just be calm, Miz Harrington. You know what…I’m gonna start calling you Debra now, okay? Cause if you gonna be part of the family, we not gonna stand on formality.” He chuckled. “Now, let’s get back to Malachi. He’s a smart boy, as I’m sure you know. He cares about you, and he’ll listen to you. That’s why it’s so important that you tell him the right things. Like I said, there’s gonna be some adjustment, so at first, it’ll be kinda hard. But it’ll get easier as time goes on, and you’ll get to caring for him—and for me and Joshua and Granddaddy too. Right now, though, Malachi’s most important. You’re here for him, and that’s because you done proved what kind of heart you have. You got a good heart, Debra, and that boy needs a good heart looking after him. Mine’s just…well, it’s had to get hard over the years. So I’m gonna count on you. I gotta be able to count on you. Okay?”
“You know what you can count on, Levi? Me slitting your throat at the first opportunity.”
Silence.
Finally, Levi said, “That’s your frustration talking, and I don’t hold that against you. It’s natural. But I can’t have that kinda thinking last for long. I’m sure you understand.”
“Tell me what you’ve done with my mother.”
A pause. “Let’s just say that, if you do right, you’ll get her back, safe and sound.”
“What’s about Russ?”
“That fellow that’s been with you? We ain’t gonna talk about him. Let’s just say you don’t never have to think about him ever again.”
In a steel-edged voice that Malachi had never heard her use, she said, “I am going to kill you. You know that, don’t you?”
Then he heard her gasp suddenly.
“Jesus, that hurts…”
“I can cause you pain without ‘hurting’ you, Debra. I don’t wanna do this, but sometimes you gotta inflict a little pain to make a loved one understand.”
“Stop…please. Please.”
“That’s better. Being polite is a good first step.”
“Levi, look. I tried to explain this to Malachi, and now I’m going to explain it to you. You’re living on borrowed time. Those things…”
“You’re not gonna start on ‘those things’ because I know them a lot better than you. Matter of fact, I bet I know ’em better than Granddaddy
. I even talk with them, you know that? I understand just what they doing and why. So don’t you start trying to turn us against ’em. It’s a waste of your breath.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I’m afraid it’s the other way around, Debra.”
Malachi heard a metallic clink and then a rough sliding sound. His breath caught in his throat because he knew that sound all too well.
“I’m gonna start doing a little adjusting of my own here. I know somebody like you knows about what they call tough love. I’m gonna show you some of that, just so you know how important it is to understand everything I’ve told you. So let’s start by getting them pants off.”
“What?”
“Go on. Take them pants down. Right now.”
“You’re out of your damn mind.”
Malachi’s face began to burn, for he could just picture what his daddy was doing down there. He heard her gasp again, and then she suddenly yelped.
“That’s better,” Levi growled. “Good. Now, let’s you get on your knees right here. Yep, yep. Now you just bend on over. Yep, bend on over.”
After an excruciating silence, Malachi heard a sudden, loud crack, followed by a sharp, agonized hiss, as if Ms. Harrington were trying to hold back a scream.
Another crack followed, and another, and another. With each blow, Ms. Harrington exhaled harshly, until finally, the pain became too much for her. It came out first as a pitiful sob, then as a long, mournful cry.
Unable to take the sound any longer, tears streaming from his eyes, Malachi turned and fled upstairs, caring little whether his father heard his thudding footsteps. He raced down the hall, past a new tangle of thorn-covered, metal-skinned vines, which writhed violently in recognition of his presence, and then closed himself in Great-Granddaddy’s room. With a little sob of empathy for Ms. Harrington, he slid weakly to the floor with his back against the door.
He knew the caress of his father’s belt all too well.
The Lumera curled at his great-grandfather’s feet began to glow softly and lifted its huge, skull-like head, electric blue eyes within the deep, shadowed cavities studying him coldly.
