SNAFU: Resurrection

by Dirk Patton

  Morales stood. She was petite, with large, expressive eyes. She said, “Two to the heart. Nice shooting.”

  “Glad you approve,” said Carl. “I’ll let the shooter know when I find him.”

  “I bet you will.”

  “Any observations?”

  Morales said, “The place has been cleaned out. No clothing or personal items in the bedrooms or bathroom.”

  “Covering their tracks,” Griffin said. “Including this guy.”

  Carl said, “You get his prints before you bagged his hands, Lisa?”

  She gave him a look that managed to say ‘I know my job’ and ‘jeez you can be a putz’, at the same time.

  Carl said, “He may not be in the system, but if he’s ex-army, maybe Sandy can get his prints identified.”

  “Sandy?” Griffin said.

  “Major Thorne.”

  “Sandy.”

  “Shut up, Wade.”

  * * *

  Henry Thayer sat in his office staring into space. He should have been out in the viewing area, pressing the flesh and making sad noises to the bereaved. He just couldn't work up the enthusiasm.

  Somehow the woman had managed to destroy two of his servants. Thayer didn’t know what upset him more, the fact that she was still alive, or that he had lost two of his carefully collected souls. He wondered how she had finished the ghouls. They weren't invulnerable, but they were hard to kill.

  For a moment he considered sending more of his creatures after the woman and perhaps the sheriff. But no, that could just draw more attention to him and possibly lose more souls. He needed to renew his supply of the tormented, not risk depleting it further. He was glad he had only one service today. Once that was over, he could send his employees home. There were four new bodies in his mortuary. He would have them moved to the cavern and then spend the evening calling up the dead and consigning them to their own private hells.

  * * *

  When they were finished at the crime scene, Carl dropped Griffin back at his truck. Griffin headed for Gatesville, where he kept an office and where Charon had her occult bookstore, Baba Yaga's. Griffin had checked the Thayer Funeral Home website earlier and found there was only one memorial service that afternoon. Afterwards he ought to be available for a little heart to heart.

  Griffin parked in front of Baba Yaga's and went inside. Charon was standing behind the counter sorting a pile of newly arrived books. She sold everything from crystals to dream catchers, but her specialty was books, and she actually made most of her money tracking down hard to find grimoires and occult texts for collectors. That was how she'd first met Carter Decamp.

  Charon looked up as Griffin entered and said, “Ghouls.”

  Griffin said, “What?”

  “Carter finally got back to me. He's in London. He told me that we're probably dealing with a form of ghoul. A type of creature that devours the flesh of other humans. There are several different kinds, but Carter thinks that's the most likely explanation.”

  “He have any advice on how to kill them?”

  “Ha. I told him that was the first thing you'd ask. He said doing enough damage to the head would usually do it. Though their second life is artificial in nature, they do have to have some semblance of their former body to keep the spirit connected. He advised you wait for him to get back before trying to deal with them. He's flying home tonight.”

  Griffin said, “Might not be that easy since whoever is controlling them is trying to kill you. Those things were fast and determined. I don't want to give him a chance to send more.”

  “You sound like you know who it is.”

  “I think I do.”

  Griffin told her about Thayer. Charon said, “He's been in here a time or two. He's definitely creepy. And a funeral home would be the perfect cover for a necromancer.”

  “Is that what he is?”

  “A sorcerer who works magic through dead people is called that, yeah. Carter says a necromancer can have a lot of different abilities. That's probably how he found me once I became aware of him. A circuit opened and he followed it back by scrying.”

  “Even more reason to talk to him sooner rather than later.”

  “Griffin, this guy could be seriously dangerous. I really think you should wait for Carter to get back.”

  “I'll give it some thought.”

  “Why am I not convinced?”

  “You have a suspicious mind, kiddo.”

  * * *

  “I thought you said this guy lived alone,” Rick Haskell said as he pulled on his flak jacket. “Why are we going in full gear?”

  Mason felt a flash of irritation. He didn't like having his orders questioned. But he reminded himself he'd probably be killing Haskell soon anyway. He said, “Guy's shifty. Not sure how, but the same source that told me he might have a lot of cash in the house, said the cops have been looking at him lately. Which means he may have some security we don't know about. Best to go in heeled and ready.”

  Haskell nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “Glad you approve. Now make sure you've got all your stuff. We're heading straight out of town when we leave the guy's house.”

  Mason looked around. The house was completely empty. No furniture. Nothing. And why not? The place was for sale and nobody knew he and his three men had been camping there for the past two nights. They'd abandoned the house they were renting when things had gone south with Coleman. Mason still wondered if he should have killed the guy they were renting from, but Muller had made the deal. No one had seen Mason.

  Haskell said, “How long we got?”

  “Not long. Give the guy time to close his business down and go to that nice, isolated house of his.”

  “And you really think he's got something stashed away? A funeral director?”

  Mason said, “My guy says this Thayer invested in a top end security door and panel. He's hiding something in that house. Muller and Hicks should be back soon. Be ready to roll.”

  * * *

  Griffin and Carl pulled up outside of Thayer’s place a little after eight. They had taken Griffin's truck this time. This wasn't an official visit, so no county vehicles anyone might recognize.

  Lights were on in the big house and Thayer's Mercedes was parked in front of his four-car garage. Looked like he was home. They got out of the truck and walked up to the front door. Carl rang the bell and pounded on the door with his fist.

  When they didn't hear anything for several minutes, Carl hammered on the door with more force and rang the bell repeatedly. Finally, they heard heavy footsteps and then the door swung inward.

  Thayer looked out, his heavy features distorted by rage. Griffin could almost see him master himself as he realized who was knocking on his door. His expression shifted to something more amiable. But his eyes didn't change.

  “Sheriff Price,” Thayer said. “You caught me at a bad time.”

  Carl said, “Sorry about that, Mr Thayer, but I need to talk to you.”

  “Can't it wait until morning?”

  “No, it really can't.” Carl stepped inside without waiting to be asked.

  Griffin followed Carl through the door. The foyer of Thayer's house was impressive, with high ceilings and a lot of expensive furniture. Thayer still had his work clothes on, though he had divested himself of coat and tie.

  “What's this about, Sheriff?” Thayer said.

  “My associate Mr Griffin would like to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Is he with your department?”

  “He's a consultant on those home invasions we were talking about the other day.”

  Thayer said, “Very well. I can give you a little time, but this is really very inconvenient.”

  “You mentioned that.”

  Thayer said, “Let's go to my study.”

  Thayer led the way to the back portion of his house. Griffin noted more luxurious furnishings as they moved through the place. Apparently, death was a good business.

  Thayer took a seat
behind his desk and offered chairs to his visitors. Both men declined. Griffin was keeping a close eye on Thayer's hands. Didn't want him going for a gun or anything in his desk. There was no reason to think the guy was a shooter, but then again you never knew.

  “What was it you wanted to ask me?” Thayer almost managed to look amiable.

  Griffin said, “I wanted to talk to you about necromancy.”

  Thayer tried to hold his expression steady but failed. He said, “I'm afraid I don't know the term.”

  “I'm thinking you do,” Griffin said. “Here's the thing, Henry. A couple of men came to my house the other night and tried to kill me and someone I care about. The really odd thing is both men were dead, but still moving around.”

  Thayer looked at Griffin and then at Carl. Slowly the guarded expression left his face, to be replaced by something unreadable. Thayer said, “That explains what happened to my servants. You destroyed them.”

  Carl said, “This may be the point where I need to read you your rights.”

  Thayer smiled. “What are you going to charge me with, Sheriff? Sending dead men to kill your friend here?”

  “I'm sure I can find all kinds of things, Mr Thayer.” Carl’s face at that moment was nearly unreadable, too. Wade understood the look well enough. Carl had selected a new target for his rage.

  Griffin became aware of an unpleasant odor. He spun, just in time to see the door to the study fill with shambling figures. Griffin pulled the Beretta, yelling a warning to Carl as he did so.

  Half a dozen of the ghouls flowed through the door in a wave. Griffin shot one in the head but a moment later three more slammed into him, pushing him against a wall.

  Carl shoved a chair into the path of two of the creatures as they came toward him. They avoided it cat quick, but it gave Carl a moment to line up on the closest one and put a round through his skull. The second one managed to reach Carl and tried to grab his gun hand. Carl pulled his hand away and jammed the barrel of the gun under the ghoul's jaw and pulled the trigger twice.

  Griffin used the butt of the Beretta as a bludgeon and crushed the nose and teeth of the ghoul in front of him. He knew the thing could feel it. Griffin pulled his knee up close and kicked out, sending the ghoul staggering backwards. Carl Price shot the thing in the head before it could recover.

  Griffin was still struggling with the remaining pair. He elbowed the one to his right, then used the gap to shoot that one in the face. He felt a searing pain in his shoulder as the thing to his left dug its claws into his shoulder. Griffin whipped his arm around that of the ghoul, trapping its elbow. He leaned backwards, exerting pressure until the arm broke, then pivoted and threw the creature over his hip. He shot it as it was trying to roll to its feet.

  Griffin looked over at Thayer's desk. The big man was gone of course. A door in the back of the study stood open. Griffin and Carl moved to the threshold, guns at the ready. A short flight of stairs led down to another door, this one a heavy security model. It hung open as well. A reek of decomposition wafted up from below.

  * * *

  Carl watched the undertaker heading away and shook his head. “Guess we have to go after him.” He was speaking to Wade, of course.

  “Can't see any way around it.”

  “I seriously wish, just once, one of these assholes would surrender and make life easy.”

  “Got to worry about these things realistically, Carl. Kill the ghouls and then see if Thayer wants to surrender.”

  “I don’t like the odds.”

  “Me neither.”

  They started down the stairs and found Thayer had apparently fled into a sub-level of the place that was carved from stone. The house was fairly new, and this construction was new as well. Carl made a note to look into the construction company to see if they were working for anyone else who needed new bat-caves carved under their homes. It was Wellman. He needed to check those things.

  Down into the subterranean pit they moved, weapons at ready. The place stank of death and Carl would have bet a month’s salary on there being more of the things down there. He didn’t want to, but he would have, and at a guess he'd have won.

  The talk with Thayer was supposed to be a quick conversation. His radio was in the damn truck. His shotgun was in the damn truck. Carl was not at all amused. “I find that bastard he’s not gonna be happy.”

  “I got dibs. He made a run at Charon.”

  Carl said nothing. But he understood all too well.

  The room they entered was vast, a substantial ceiling and distant walls that faded into the murk. That was the best word for it. There was light, but not enough to leave him comfortable with the notion that he was seeing everything.

  None of the bad guys ever wanted to have good lighting, either.

  “Whatever he’s up to, he spent a fortune on this place.”

  Thayer answered from a good distance away. “I don't have time for this. I have plans, Sheriff. They do not involve you or Wade Griffin. Leave now and I can forgive this transgression. You can live to see another day. Otherwise, you will be joining the dead in my personal catacombs.”

  Wade said, “Well, that’s it. I guess we should go.”

  “Thayer, you have ten seconds to get your ass over here and surrender. Otherwise it ain’t the two of us joining the dead.”

  The man laughed at him. Laughed.

  “Sheriff, you have no idea who you are dealing with, I am days away from becoming a god. Do you understand me? The reaping of souls shall come and my lord Nsnigoth will make me a god!”

  Wade looked his way and Carl looked right back, the both of them not sure if they should laugh at the very notion or be genuinely worried. It was hard to tell sometimes in Brennert County if people were properly crazy or of the world was.

  Carl said, “Nsnigoth?”

  Wade said, “Never heard of him. I really wish Decamp would hang closer to town.”

  “I really wish the crazies around here had less ambition.”

  Thayer laughed. “’Crazies?’ I’m not crazy, you fool. I simply understand the world better than you do. Others have been anointed before me. Others have ascended to the ranks of the gods. Not many. It’s not an easy task and you’ve already inconvenienced me.”

  The man was out of sight, but he was close. He also sounded odd. His voice modulated in the same way some of the kids back in their football days had when they were changing clothes, looking up and down while talking, putting on their pads, or tying their shoes.

  “He's up to something.”

  Wade nodded. The big man’s eyes were narrowed, and he pointed with his chin. There was a wall to the right. It was a support structure but anything at all could be behind it.

  A moment later Thayer came stepping from behind that support wall and, sure enough, he’d put on a flak vest and a few pieces of ballistic armor that covered his vitals. The arms, the legs, the head were all bared, but a body shot probably wouldn’t do too much good.

  That was okay. Both of them qualified as marksmen.

  “Gentlemen, I offered you a chance.”

  Thayer raised his right hand. There was a damned big .45 semi-auto in it.

  What the hell? When did the evil overlord types start using guns?

  He didn’t hesitate. Thayer took aim and fired.

  * * *

  Things didn't go the way Thayer had planned. The two men were big but they were also quick. They ducked low and each went in a different direction. Their movements upset Thayer's aim and his shots went wild.

  So much for the element of surprise.

  Both men returned fire. One of them managed to hit him in the shoulder, the bullet creasing flesh and cutting a trench of fire across his left arm.

  He screamed an obscenity and backed around the corner. They could not reach him without him seeing their progress. They could not merely fire and hope to hit him. For the moment it was a draw.

  “We could work together, gentlemen. I will be a god and I could be benevolent.
”

  A complete lie. He hadn’t gone through the years of preparation to share his glory with anyone. These two were interlopers, and they’d be dealt with.

  The wards he’d placed around his home gave off warnings. There were more people on his property. The parlor was closed for the night. No one was expected, and he knew for certain the Sheriff had not called for backup. Just the same, the man could have had people waiting. Enough. He’d closed his eyes and called on the ghouls to do his bidding. He would handle these two. Seven of his departed moved from their resting places and slipped toward the house above. They moved through the darkness and quickly changed course toward the funeral home.

  “Well, shit, Wade, that’s about the best offer I’ve had all day. We could serve some asshole that thinks he’s a god. You with me on this? We could polish his shoes, maybe bring him breakfast in bed and we’d be like personal servants to a new god, a better god.”

  “I'm not really much for gods. The one's I've met haven't impressed me much.”

  Thayer had to control his outrage. They were unbelievers. They did not understand the power that would soon be his.

  “You are fools! I’ll enjoy tearing your souls from your bodies.”

  “I’m going to enjoy blowing out your kneecaps, asshole.” The sheriff had a gutter mouth.

  He risked a quick peek around the corner of his wall and saw only the sheriff. Somehow, the bigger man had vanished when he wasn't looking. Fear bloomed in his chest. No! He was too close to fail. He had to take control of the situation again and soon.

  Upstairs the dead were moving, and he was aware of what they did, what they saw, as if their actions were distant memories.

  * * *

  The night was profoundly dark, and the funeral home was no exception. Mason took his time scouting out the area. Muller took a long walk around the perimeter and saw nothing.

  Hicks waited for the signal and when he got it, his gloved hands attacked the security control box. In a surprisingly short amount of time he signaled the all clear and the four of them moved.