The latch clicked and the door opened. The man who stood there was stooped with age but hale and tanned, and his hair was still more black than white. He wore plastic-rimmed glasses low on his nose and a button-up plaid shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. He peered at Alex. “It's all yours, friend,” he said. “I just went in my pants, anyway.” He paused, focused on his rescuer. “Say, who the hell are you?”
“Well, it's real good to see you, too,” said Alex.
“Mr. Billings!” said Josh.
“Hello, Josh. And Emily, what a pleasant surprise! And Dan, good to see you, too, of course.”
“Likewise,” Sinder responded.
He held out his hand to Alex. “I'm John Billings.”
Alex shook his hand. “Alex. Pleased to meetcha.”
“Mr. Billings was our geology teacher,” said Emily.
“Operative word being was. Not much use for a geology teacher with no more high school. Currently, I'm the town librarian.” Billings smiled and looked over the wreckage of the library. “Volunteer librarian. But it keeps me busy.” He walked a few steps, sat down in one of the wooden library chairs, and took off his glasses. He held the lenses up to the light, then began cleaning them with his shirt. “Now, does anybody have any damned idea what is going on?”
“Zombies,” said Alex. “Next time, when the living dead start wanderin' the streets, y'all might want to try locking the door.”
“I did lock the door,” said Billings, with a shudder. “When that goddamned thing crawled in the window, I started looking for something to defend myself with. But he didn't go for me. He turned right around and flipped the deadbolt open on the front door. He let his buddies in.”
“Well . . .” Alex tapped his chin. “Ain't that a disturbing development. Josh, you're the zombie expert. I thought zombies was supposed to all be brainless dumbshits.”
“They are,” said Josh, as he stared out at the undead outside.
“So, that's all you've got?” asked the geology teacher. “Just . . . zombies?”
Josh said, “We think they're magic zombies. Smart magic zombies, apparently.”
“Oh, magic zombies. Well, that explains everything,” said Billings.
“They think it's magic zombies,” said Tom.
“Tom thinks it's aliens,” Rachael added.
“Hey, fuck off,” said Tom.
John Billings shrugged. “Well, neither one of them is the craziest explanation I could come up with. I think we can all agree on zombies, whatever the reason may be,” said the old librarian. “Before I was so rudely interrupted by those things, I was just reading up on our town's . . . unique history.”
“I've been hearing all about that,” said Alex. “Seems like y'all have a kind of a history of zombie problems.”
Something crashed behind them. They turned, weapons raised. Harbaugh had fallen out of his chair and lay sprawled out headlong on the floor. “Jim!” yelled Rachael. She ran to his side. “Hey Jim, stay with us.”
Jim grunted and raised his head. “I'm fine.”
“I doubt that, Jim. I really do. Just hold on for a second.”
“My arm hurts.” The gauze was soaked through with blood. The skin around the gauze had begun to turn an unhealthy shade of gray.
“If I could get back to the pharmacy, I could get some antibiotics,” said Tom.
Buck responded, “Oh, you couldn't have thought of that before?”
“Before, I didn't know it was the fucking Armageddon, Buck. Before, I just assumed there would be a doctor around to prescribe antibiotics so I wouldn't lose my license by dispensing pills on my own.”
“We don't know if antibiotics would help anyway,” said Josh. “This isn't a normal kind of thing, right?”
“I'm okay, really.” Harbaugh sat up. “Let's go find this book.” Alex helped him to his feet. The sheriff said, “Kid, if you say I'm turning into a zombie, I'm going to slap you into next week.”
Billings took a step forward. He peered through the boards covering the window, at the horde of the undead outside. They groaned and drooled, gnawing on the boards, pushing their fingers into the gaps. “In any case, it certainly would seem that history is repeating itself. I'd hoped to find something that might help us understand what we're currently dealing with. We've got the Prosperity Sentinel records here in the library, going all the way back to 1868. I was just in the middle of reading about the original Hell Night.”
Harbaugh said, “John, the reason we came over here is that Josh and Emily indicated that they'd seen a classmate doing some kind of actual magic, using instructions in an old book he'd found in this library. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the best we've got to go on. Does that ring any bells with you?”
Billings looked skeptical. “What kind of magic? Like card tricks? I have a copy of Modern Coin Magic here somewhere . . .”
Josh repeated his story.
Billings nodded. “Oh, Lord. Yes, the homunculus. I remember when that story was going around the school. I never saw the thing myself, though I did see the book Mr. Peterson claimed to have used. I mean, I heard all about it, but I never gave it any credence. I thought it was some kind of a practical joke. But it was the real deal?” He laughed softly. “Imagine that. That was a few years ago. My predecessor, Janice, would have been the librarian then. She'd be a better person to ask about all of this, frankly. But she . . . disappeared.”
Alex did a double take. “Whoa, let's just stop the wagons for a second here. Janice? Janice Bueller?”
“That's right,” said Billings. “Do you know her?”
“So, y'all are telling me that Janice Bueller was the town librarian? You mean to say that this woman, the woman what came down with mysterious, zombie-like symptoms and disappeared a few weeks ago, she was the librarian . . . at the same library where some kid checked out a magical book what explains how to raise zombies?”
The others looked sheepish.
Tom said, “When you put it that way . . .”
“Well,” said Alex, “I guess at least we're in the right place. So, y'all seen any books of magic lying around? The Necronomicon or anything?”
“Oh, come on,” said Billings. “Are you serious?”
Harbaugh responded, “I know it sounds ridiculous, John. But we don't have anything better to go on. It's the best explanation we've got.”
“I suppose I shouldn't laugh. I think we can all agree that ordinary explanations aren't cutting it lately,” Billings said. “As a matter of fact, I might have some information you'd find interesting, if not terribly useful. I've been going over the library's inventory since Janice disappeared. I haven't found any magic books, but I've found a few missing books. Not having seen them, I couldn't tell you if they're full of mysterious incantations, written in blood and bound in human skin. All I know about them is that they aren't here, though they are in the card catalog and their titles are . . . suggestive. However, considering what's going on outside, I felt like it was a more valuable use of my time to start reading over the archives of the Prosperity Sentinel. It's been quite interesting reading. Come on, I'll show you.”
A door, with a frame and lintel carved in imitation of Greek columns, led to a room labeled rare books. In the middle of the room, a wooden table stood next to two matching chairs. On the table lay a large, leather-bound folio, open to reveal yellowed sheets of newspaper print. Two armchairs sat next to a smaller table and a Tiffany lamp, facing a long-unused fireplace.
Billings leaned one hand on the table and flipped back a few pages in the leather folio. “I'm a bit of an amateur town historian, but Janice always knew more about it than me. Since the dead started walking the streets, I've been stuck in here. So, I've been studying up. This town . . . well, let's just say either the local newspaper editor had a drinking problem, or this place has a colorful history.”
Alex settled into one of the leather-upholstered reading chairs and crossed his legs. “I'm hearing more and more about that.”
> “It starts out just like an ordinary little town's newspaper. Local news, local gossip, a little bit of world news.” Billings sat on one of the wooden chairs at the table, reading aloud some of the headlines. “President Johnson Pardons Rebel Veterans. Transcontinental Railroad Completed at Promontory Point.” He flipped forward a few pages in the newspaper book. “But then things start to get weird. Just little things, at first. For one example, here's an article about how some townspeople heard a child crying from the bottom of a well one morning. So, they tied a rope around a kid and lowered him down there to see what was going on. The only thing they found at the bottom was a doll made out of straw, bound with what looked like human hair.”
“Well, I can't disagree,” said Alex. “That's just as weird as shit.”
“Well put,” Buck added.
“And then, here's an article about a mine owner's health problems.
“According to knowledgeable sources, Johannes Van Der Meer has sold his controlling interest in the New Holland mine to Mr. Belden Ashford and stated his intention to leave Prosperity forthwith. Mr. Van Der Meer has made no public statement in regards to his motivation, but rumors circulating about town ascribe the decision to his deteriorating health. According to reputable sources, Mr. Van Der Meer has been afflicted with a mysterious illness which erodes the health of both body and mind. His hair and teeth have fallen out, and his skin erupted in sores. At the same time, the mine owner claims to be followed by mysterious creatures of pure aether, which watch him from the corners of dark rooms, whispering vile suggestions, but vanishing when viewed directly. Privately, he has stated his intent to leave Prosperity shortly, declaring our fine township a blighted cesspool of evil spirits and wickedness.”
“There's Belden Ashford again,” said Rachael. “Funny thing.”
“And it only gets weirder from there.” Billings flipped forward a page. “A few days later, a woman spotted a monkey on a rooftop.”
“That's not that weird,” said Josh.
“But it had wings and a beak like a toucan.”
“Okay, that's more weird.”
“I'd say she needed to lay off the patent medicine,” said Alex.
“I'd tend to agree with you, except twenty other people saw it, too. Someone shot it dead with a Henry rifle. But the body mysteriously disappeared from the local taxidermist.
“And here's the kicker.” Billings cleared his throat. “About Hell Night.
“A most foul and evil night has befallen our fair city. The day after the calamitous accident at the Rattlesnake No. 6 mine, miners employed by the Ashford Mine Company voted unanimously to strike. A funeral procession for the deceased made its way through town and halted outside the gates of the Ashford estate, displaying the coffins of those fourteen souls lost in the accident, and demanding from Mr. Ashford an accounting. No response came from Mr. Ashford. However, according to multiple sources, soon thereafter the fourteen deceased miners rose up out of their coffins, still displaying the grisly wounds which felled them. Joy at their resurrection soon turned to horror when it became apparent that the deceased were only shells of their former selves, tormented devils driven on by a mindless hunger. These foul creatures turned upon their former friends and family with a demonic hunger, rending flesh with their very teeth. In the ensuing carnage, six more were killed. It was to the consternation of all involved when these six, also, returned promptly from the land of the dead, lacking their most basic faculties and possessed of an insatiable hunger for human flesh.”
Billings cleared his throat and continued.
“Thus began a night of horror unseen since the biblical plagues of ancient Egypt. For hours, the dead wandered the streets of Prosperity, feasting on any soul unlucky enough to be caught in the open. A lantern, tipped over in the ensuing panic, started a conflagration which burned unchecked most of the night, engulfing a large portion of Prosperity's downtown. Of the establishments on the south side of town, only the Silver Strike Saloon and the post office were spared.
“A posse, hastily formed by Sheriff Elias Perkins, soon discovered that the dead, though resurrected, could be again laid to rest with a sufficient application of hot lead. These brave men, facing down the undead hordes, promptly dispatched their adversaries. With that threat removed, the Prosperity Fire Brigade was able to regroup, and brought the fire under control shortly before dawn.
“From Ashford Mansion, no word. The mood in town is poisonous. I urge my fellow citizens to remain civilized and adhere to the rule of law.”
Billings looked up from the article. “And they never heard another word from Ashford after that. He sat up in his mansion while they sat down in the saloon and let their hatred fester. A few days later, the townspeople tried again, and this time it worked. They used a team of draft horses to pull down the gates of the mansion, stormed the place, and hung Belden Ashford from a convenient tree. But, according to legend, he didn't die. Apparently, he kept running around, his head flopping around on his broken neck, cursing the people who'd hanged him. Finally, they shot him in the head. That did the trick. Then they dismembered him, burned the body, and scattered his ashes to the wind, where, if you believe the stories, nothing grew for years afterward.”
“Tough crowd,” said Alex.
“After that, it was years before anybody even entered the mansion again. Folks believed the place was haunted. The town more or less abandoned all of Old Prosperity. People claimed they saw mysterious lights in the windows, strange animals, shadows in broad daylight, and sometimes a little girl could be heard crying in the hallways of the mansion.”
“That is a hell of a story,” said Buck, “but I still don't see how it helps us.”
“You just never know,” said Alex. “Sometimes you don't know what you're looking for until you find it. Sometimes a long while after you find it.”
“Speaking of which,” said Harbaugh, “let's not forget why we're here.” He gestured toward the shelves full of deteriorating, leather-bound books. “Just for the hell of it, should we see if we can find any books in here about . . . sorcery?”
The survivors moved throughout the room, each choosing a bookcase. They started pulling down books and reading the titles. “English to Dano-Norwegian Dictionary,” said Tom. “I don't think that's what we're looking for.”
“You know this is silly, right?” said Sinder. “We simply need to have faith in the Lord. If we were meant to survive, we will survive. Our time would be better spent repenting our sins. That's the only way to fight the Devil. We must renounce him and all his works.”
Alex pulled down another old book, flipped through the pages, and replaced it on the shelf. “Y'all wanna hear a joke?”
Sinder made a face. “I hardly think this is the time for—”
“Okay, so there was this flood,” Alex began. “And them waters was risin' fast. And everybody gathered in the church to pray. The preacher gave a big fiery sermon about how they just had to have faith in the good Lord and they'd be saved. Pretty soon the water is comin' up the road, and the sheriff brings a bus. He says, 'Everybody climb in, we's a getting' out of here!' And the minister says, 'No, for I have faith that the Lord will save me.' So they leave him there. And the water rises until he's up on the roof. And a boat comes up and says, 'Father, climb on board!' And that preacher, he says, 'No, for my faith is strong and I will be saved.' So that boat leaves, and pretty soon he's up in the bell tower, the water is so high. And then a helicopter comes along, and one more time he says, 'No, my faith is strong like a mighty oak. Leave me.' So, that preacher, he up and drowns. Up he goes to the pearly gates, and there's God hisself, up on his golden throne. And the preacher says, 'Lord, my faith was so strong, why didn't you save me?' And God, well, he says, 'What do you want, man? I sent a bus, a boat, and a fuckin' helicopter.'”
Sinder made an ugly face. “Are you mocking my faith?”
“I'm just sayin', maybe fallin' to our knees and beggin' God's mercy should be plan B. The Lord helps tho
se who help themselves, and all that.”
“Don't worry, Dan,” said Rachael, “I'm still mocking your faith.”
Sinder smiled thinly. “That's because you're a godless whore.”
Rachael winked. “I love you, too, Dan.”
Buck turned to Sinder and balled his fists. “You'd better watch your damned mouth.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Harbaugh said, stepping between the two men. “Let's just take it down a notch, okay? We already have enough problems.”
“So, John, you said there were some strange books that went missing?” Alex pulled down a tome entitled Geological Survey of the Nevada Territory. “I imagine that was all on the computer, so we couldn't check computer records, seein' as how the power is out.”
“Actually, I have a printout downstairs,” said Billings. “Janice never did get with the digital age. The place ran on card catalogs until just a few weeks ago. That's more or less what I've been doing since I got here, running an inventory on the books while I transfer the card catalog records over to computers. I'm still mucking out the records, trying to get everything switched over. It's a lot of work for one man. The card catalog is still down in the basement, along with the list of missing books.”
“It sure doesn't seem like we're finding anything here,” said Rachael. “Why don't we go down and take a look in the basement?”
“Come on,” said John. “I'll show you.”
“Okay,” said the sheriff. “Let's see what we can find. Josh, why don't you stay up top. Fire a shot if anything crazy happens.”
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” said Josh.
As they filed out of the room, Rachael hung back. She pulled an aged black book from the shelf and quickly slipped it into her purse, then followed the others.
***
Alex Rains, Vampire Hunter (Book 2): Hell Night Page 12
