Reaching behind the polished mahogany bar, Annie picked up a thick glass half full of amber liquid. She finished the drink in one swallow, slammed the glass down, and poured another two fingers from a bottle of bourbon. She slid the bottle toward Alex. “You want to have a drink there and walk in Elvis Presley's footsteps, nobody's stopping you. Have one on the house.”
“That's right tempting, ma'am. But I think I'd better stay sober.”
Annie laughed. “What in the hell for?”
“In case I gotta outrun some zombies out there.”
“Good God, you aren't actually going back out there, are you?” When nobody responded, Annie said, “Sweet Jesus, you are, aren't you? Whatever for?”
Harbaugh answered her. “We're going to the sheriff's station to get firearms.”
“That sounds like a damned fool idea. Why don't we just circle the wagons right here? I've got food and booze enough to hold us until this all blows over.”
Alex made a pained face, staring at the spot at the bar where once the King had leaned. Finally, he said, “Aw, hell. You know what, if I go out there and get ate, I'll sure wish I'd taken that drink when I had the chance.” He reached over, grabbed the bottle of bourbon, and poured himself a glass.
Rachael said to Annie, “What makes you think it's even going to blow over?”
Alex leaned on the counter. “Here's to you, Elvis, wherever you are. Hail to the King.” He took a long drink.
Annie shrugged. “Well, hell, the last time, it was over in twelve hours.”
Alex spit out his drink all over the bar. “The last time? 'Scuse me, the gol-damned last time?”
“Oh, come on, Annie,” said Harbaugh. “You can't be serious. That's just a crazy kid's story.”
Alex looked from Harbaugh to Annie, and back to Harbaugh. “Beggin' y'alls pardon, but what is a crazy old kid's story?”
“Oh, yeah,” Josh said. “Hell Night. Supposedly there were some dead people that came back to life here back in the 1800s. It's just a story that gets passed around the school. Everybody's heard it.”
“Well, I ain't heard it,” said Alex, “and nobody thought to maybe mention this? It never crossed nobody's mind that maybe it might have some small bearing on our present gol-damned situation?”
“We're not going to bring up this nonsense, are we?” said Sinder.
Harbaugh sighed. “Honestly, I didn't even think about it until now. I don't know why. We've all been a little busy. It's just one of those stories you hear when you're a kid, just a local urban legend. Like the guy with the hook hand, or the Bearalope, or the girl who had earwigs eat her brain. There's no truth to it.”
“Oh, yes there is,” said Annie. “It's all true. Check the archives of the Prosperity Sentinel sometime. They're all in the library.”
The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. Did you know that the sheriff's department gets at least a half-dozen reported sightings of the Prosperity Bearalope every year? That doesn't mean there's some goddamned bear-elk hybrid out there running around and scaring the tourists.”
“Well, that's as may be.” Alex took another sip of his drink and managed to swallow this time. “But why don't one of y'all fill me in on this story? Just for the heck of it. Since we got some time to kill.”
Tom pulled the bottle of bourbon over and poured himself a glass.
“Well.” Annie took another sip. “If you believe the stories, it all started with a man named Belden Ashford. You might have seen the name around. Like the street named after him.”
“And the city park,” said Buck.
“And the library,” Emily added.
“And the big damned statue of him at the high school,” Annie said, “and the entire state park. He's kind of a big deal around here. Prosperity was just another town until Belden Ashford showed up. That's what people say, anyway. This was a real gold rush town. Started from nothing. Couple of prospectors struck gold up at Shirttail Creek, and in six months, there was a town here. Ashford came around a few years later with money to spend. He built his mansion up on the hill and bought shares in a few mining operations. In a few years, he owned damn near everything in town that made anyone a dime. He was the richest man in Prosperity. His mansion is still there. The mansion and his mine were both part of the state park before they closed it all down. You mighta seen the signs for Ashford Mansion and Mine State Historical Park on your way into town.
“But anyway, there were a lot of strange rumors about old man Ashford. They say that when he arrived in town, things just started to get weird. People said he was a sorcerer. Strange things started happening to his business rivals. People saw weird things all over town.”
“Like what kind of weird things?” Alex asked.
“Like crows speaking fluent Latin. Or an owl with the head of a cat.”
Alex nodded. “Okay, yeah, that's pretty weird.”
“The story's just getting to the good part,” said Josh.
Annie nodded slowly, then continued. “Anyway, Ashford was a bit of a hermit, not exactly a people person, and a bit of a slave driver. Real Ebenezer Scrooge type. In a town full of miners and sodbusters, he cut quite an odd figure in his tailored suits and top hat. He bought up damned near every gold mine in the county, then turned the screws on the workers. Everyone hated him. He didn't have a single friend in this town. He just sat up in his mansion. And every once in a while, he'd leave town for a few months, come back with all manner of strange things, exotic animals or old books.
“Things finally came to a head when a mining accident killed fourteen people at the Rattlesnake mine. The miners blamed Belden Ashford. The funeral turned into a mob, and they all showed up at the gates of Ashford Mansion.”
Annie poured herself another glass of bourbon and took a sip, the shotgun resting across her knees. “Well, that's when the story gets really crazy. According to the legend, the fourteen dead miners jumped up out of their coffins and attacked the funeral goers. With their teeth. Killed some folks. The dead rampaged through the town for a few hours, and somebody kicked a lantern over and burned down half the town before the townspeople got things sorted out.”
“That's how the story goes, anyway,” Harbaugh added.
Alex asked, “So, what ever happened to Belden Ashford?”
“Frontier justice,” said Annie. “A short rope and a long drop. As the years went on, people sort of forgot about the crazy stuff. The town needed a hero, so they built Ashford up as a lovable Scrooge McDuck, built a few statues and posted a few plaques, and now everybody thinks that Belden Ashford was just as jolly as old Saint Nick, instead of the rat bastard he really was.”
Alex looked around at the faces in the room. “And not a one of you folks thought to mention that this town's got a little history of zombie problems?”
Nobody spoke for a moment.
“It's not like it helps us any,” said Buck. “Even if it was true, Belden Ashford's been dead for a hundred years or more. What could he have to do with it?”
Tom said, “I agree. This isn't about some old ghost story. This is happening now.”
His drink still in hand, Alex leaned against the bar. “But you said his house was still standing, right? Maybe there's something there. Maybe someone found something there, some kind of hocus pocus, or they set something loose or learned how to do all this stuff over again. Hell, maybe Belden Ashford is a vampire, and he's still around.”
Harbaugh laughed. “So you're saying that you think somebody out there is, what, doing black magic? Calling up the dead?”
Alex took another sip of bourbon. “You got a better idea?”
“This is all ridiculous,” said Sinder. “Witchcraft? You have to be kidding me. This is the Lord's work, not Satan's.”
Rachael rolled her eyes. “Oh, because this being God's judgment on all the world's sinners, that's a perfectly reasonable answer. Is that right, Dan?”
Sinder didn't answer.
Josh tentatively raised his hand. “Y
ou know, I remember something kind of weird now. About magic. My sophomore year, Bobby Peterson made a . . . ah . . . a what do you call it? A homongulus.”
“A homunculus,” Emily corrected.
Harbaugh sighed deeply. “Really, Josh? This isn't the time for practical jokes.”
Josh said, “I swear to God, it's true. He brought it to school in a mason jar. It was a little miniature man. Six inches tall. It had little, pointed ears. He told us how he made it, but . . . it was really gross.”
Sinder said, “Please. This is absurd. Magic? Really? Surely you saw something else. A pet rat, or some kind of model, or a puppet. A practical joke.”
“No,” said Emily. “I saw it, too. It was a miniature human being inside a mason jar. It was terrified.”
“See?” said Josh. “Bobby said he found the instructions in an old book at the library.”
Alex nodded slowly and finished off his drink, deep in thought. “Well, that is absolutely fascinating.”
Josh continued. “I mean, it was an old book. Old old. It was in weird old English, like Shakespeare or something. The paper was all thick, not like regular paper.”
Harbaugh said, “What the hell would a public library have a thing like that for?”
“It's the Ashford Public Library,” said Annie. “When old Belden died, everything was a mess. They padlocked the gates of the mansion for years before the city decided what to do with it. Maybe part of Belden Ashford's book collection went toward starting the town's first public library, and they just never knew what they had. Maybe that book rotted away in some dark corner of the library until that kid checked it out.”
Harbaugh hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.
“Got something on your mind, Sheriff?” Alex asked.
“Come to think of it,” said Harbaugh, “the crime scene where Buddy died. There were some . . . inconsistencies. Some weird things.”
“What kind of weird things?”
“Like strange symbols drawn on the floor. There are photographs in the sheriff's station. The blood spatter indicated that somebody . . . that after his throat was cut, somebody collected his blood in a bowl. And there were other things. It was strange. Just strange stuff. Ritualistic. I was wondering if we didn't have a budding serial killer on our hands.”
“I don't remember much about how Bobby made his homunculus,” said Josh, “but I remember he needed to kill something. He said it was the blood, the death, that made it happen. He said he killed one of his pet rats. He was . . . yeah, he was a weird kid. He had to order mandrake root and some other stuff off the Internet. I remember he also took some dirt from the old graveyard, and he used his own . . . you know . . .” Josh made an obscene gesture. “His own stuff.”
“Ew.” Emily made a face.
“Dirt, huh?” said Harbaugh.
“Yeah.”
The sheriff nodded slowly. “There was dirt scattered on the floor at the murder scene.”
“So, what happened to this little critter?” Alex asked.
“Bobby kept it in a hamster cage. He said it lived for about a week, and then it hung itself with a piece of thread.” Annie blanched at that.
Alex cocked his head. “And where's this kid at now? Sounds like somebody we should talk to, one way or another.”
“His parents moved after the gypsum quarry closed. I think he's in Las Vegas now.”
“Well, shit. Alright, how about the library? Sounds like we oughta add that to the itinerary. Maybe the book is still there. Hell, maybe there's more. If we got real damned lucky, we could find who checked out the book, or we could maybe learn what we're dealing with.”
“It's not far. It's right across the street,” said the sheriff. “But why don't we get ourselves armed first, and then we'll think about that.”
“Second that,” said Alex.
“We're still forgetting about the whole thing with electrical devices,” said Buck. “I wonder if that's part of the same thing? Did that happen the last time also?”
“How the hell would we know?” said Annie. “The only electrical device they had back then was the telegraph. I suppose somebody might have noticed if that wasn't working. But if that's part of the story, I never heard anyone tell it.”
Harbaugh stood. He hooked his thumbs into his belt and looked around the room. “Okay folks, we've done what we came here to do. I say let's saddle up before we all change our minds and get drunk. Annie, are you coming with us?”
“Are you crazy? I'm going to sit right here, with this shotgun pointed at the door, and do exactly what you said. Get good and drunk.” She looked at her glass. “Drunker.”
Alex said, “Damned if that don't sound pretty reasonable right now. Still, I think I gotta go. I never was one to hide my head in the sand and hope for the best.”
Annie nodded. “Well, good luck to you. Buck Henry, how many shells you have for that scattergun of yours?”
He smiled. “Three, last time I counted.”
Annie pulled out a box of 12 gauge and pushed them across the bar. “I've got plenty. You go ahead and take these.”
Buck took the offered box. “Thank you, Annie. I mean that.” He topped off the gun's magazine tube, then stuffed the rest of the shells into the pockets of his coveralls.
“And here, take a box of candles, too. You all might need them.”
“Bless your heart, Annie,” said Harbaugh.
Josh took the candles and put them in his backpack.
“Don't suppose you've got any .45 ACP shells hiding under that bar?” Alex asked.
“Close, but no cigar.” From underneath the bar, Annie pulled out a single-action cowboy pistol, as old and worn as the shotgun. “I've got plenty of .45 long Colt, but that wouldn't help you none.”
“My kind of woman.” Alex touched his hat brim. “Thanks all the same.”
Annie smirked and shot Alex a predatory look. “If I was a few years younger, you'd be in some serious trouble, talkin' like that.”
Harbaugh said, “Alright, everybody ready to move?”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” said Lila. “I mean, it's safe here. We could just stay.”
“It's tempting,” said Harbaugh, “but I can't. I'm the goddamned sheriff. I've got to try to do something. I can't go hiding in a bar while my people are out there getting eaten by zombies. I've got to try.”
“I'm with the sheriff,” said Buck. “We have to do something. There have to be other survivors out there, hiding. We have to try and help.”
“I'm on board, too,” said Alex. He set his empty glass down on the bar. “I mean, it's kinda my job. Zombies? Shit. Can't just let that slide.” One by one, the rest of them agreed to come along.
“Maybe . . .” Lila started. “Maybe I should just stay here.”
The sheriff said, “If you think that's best, nobody's going to force you to go.”
Lila nodded shakily.
“Now, Lila,” said Dan. He stood up from the table where he'd been sitting. “I don't think there's anything to worry about. The sheriff's station is a secure, modern building. Much better for our purposes than this rickety old place. There will be supplies there.” The chemistry teacher crossed to the front door and peered out of the shutters. “I don't see any of those creatures outside. In fact . . .” He cracked the door open.
“Dan, are you sure that's a good idea?” said Harbaugh.
Sinder looked around and then took a step outside. He turned around, spread his arms wide, and smiled benevolently. “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it and is safe.”
Lila sighed and nodded bravely.
Alex stepped up and peeked out the door. The sheriff's station was directly across the street on the other side of two lanes of faded blacktop separated by a dashed yellow line. The building was made of sand-colored brick. A flight of stone stairs led up to double doors with wire-reinforced glass windows. A flagpole flew the American flag above the Nevada state
flag.
“Okay, everybody, get ready,” said the sheriff. He held his keys in his hand. They all lined up behind him in single file. “We're going to be quick, and we're going to be quiet. It's just fifty feet. I don't know if Pete or Mabel are still inside the station, or even if the door is locked, but we'll just get inside and then sort that all out. If everything goes to plan, we'll be inside with the door locked before the zombies even notice us. Okay?”
He looked around the room and saw nodding heads. “Okay, then.”
Annie said, “Good luck, fellas.”
Harbaugh led the way, followed by Buck, Sinder, Josh, Rachael, Tom, Emily, and Alex. Lila left the bar last, carrying a shopping bag full of food from the diner in each hand. Annie shut the door. They heard the lock click.
Huddled together, they crept across the street, their makeshift weapons ready. No one made a sound.
Halfway across the street, Lila stopped. “You know what,” she said, “I changed my mind. Maybe I should just stay with Annie.” She turned around—
—and faced a gray, snarling corpse.
“Oh, God—”
The zombie grabbed Lila's hair and yanked her down. She screamed as the creature dragged her to the ground and tore into her. The shopping bags hit the ground and burst, spilling water bottles and snack food. Blood sprayed onto the pavement.
Zombies poured from the alley and gathered in front of Annie's Saloon. More spread out into the intersection. Lila screamed again and again as they swarmed her like piranhas and tore her to pieces. The horde around Rudy's diner turned and shuffled toward the sheriff's station.
“Well, shit,” said Alex.
Harbaugh turned, then looked back to the station doors. Another mob of zombies rounded the corner of the intersection, blocking off the entrance to the sheriff's station. Harbaugh said to Buck, “We need to get to that door.”
“Got it,” Buck answered. He raised his shotgun and fired. The nearest zombie's head erupted. He jacked another shell into the shotgun and fired again. Harbaugh joined in, mowing down the zombies in front of the double doors with his pistol. They made their way up the stairs, and Buck turned to blast the zombies that shambled up after them.
Alex Rains, Vampire Hunter (Book 2): Hell Night Page 9
