Boneyard Rumblers

by Gina Ranalli

“Feel like some conversation, Justin?”

  Cash steeled himself for whatever was to happen next.

  “I may have to check my calendar,” he replied, his tone casual. “My secretary is on vacation this week.”

  Nodding, Quinn said, “You think you’re a funny guy, don’t you?”

  “I have my moments, sure. How about you? Are you a funny guy?”

  Skirting the question, Quinn asked another of his own. “Being that funny get you a lot of pussy?” He arched his eyebrows. “You think the ladies like a funny guy, don’t you?”

  Cash shrugged one shoulder. “It seems to work okay. Haven’t had a steady lady for a while now though so you might want to ask someone else how to get in Helena’s pants.”

  With his free hand, Quinn pushed his eyeglasses further up his nose and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. It was then that Cash noticed beads of sweat forming on Quinn’s brow.

  The little shit was scared.

  How Cash could use this to his advantage, he wasn’t sure. Being afraid might actually make Quinn more dangerous rather than less.

  “I wouldn’t talk about Helena like that if I were you,” Quinn said.

  “Right,” Cash agreed. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Shifting the acetylene torch from one hand to the other, Quinn asked, “Any idea what I intend to do with this thing?”

  “Burn me?” Cash guessed.

  “Probably. I haven’t decided yet, to be honest.”

  Cash nodded. “There’s another option then?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Not sure what’s behind door number two, but I think I want to go ahead and pick that one, if it’s all right with you.”

  Quinn was watching his face carefully, then looked away, considering. When he glanced back, he smiled and said, “I’ll tell you what. You just tell me everything I want to know, no bullshit, and then I walk on out of here and you won’t have to be blowing on your blisters for the next half hour.”

  Pretending to think about it, Cash said, “I guess that’ll depend on the questions then, won’t it?”

  “Doesn’t seem like a difficult decision to make. Unless you enjoy pain…?”

  “I do not enjoy pain. No, sir. But I can’t make promises either. Not without knowing what I’m promising to first.”

  “Where are the others?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that?”

  Cash shrugged again. “It’s true. We parted company some time ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s just say…” he paused, uncertain of how to continue. “We drifted apart,” he said at last.

  Quinn sighed as though he were already bored. “And I should believe that why?”

  “If they were here, don’t you think they would have descended down on your humble abode by now? You all would have been breakfast hours ago.”

  “This house is guarded, smart ass. No one gets in unless we allow it.”

  “If you say so, boss.” This was new information for Cash. Guarded? How? A security system maybe? If that was the case, these hunters were seriously deluding themselves but Cash wasn’t going to be the one to tell them that. Not while he was in chains anyway.

  Much to Cash’s dismay, Quinn suddenly lit the torch and said, “This is gonna suck. Do you think you could do me a favor? Try not to scream too loudly. We don’t want the neighbors thinking we’re murdering people in here and then calling the cops on us. That kind of thing tends to be a real headache for all involved.”

  Cash tensed up, his eyes on the blue flame as Quinn rose from his chair and started towards him. He wanted to make a quippy comeback but was drawing a blank. Quinn was right: it was going to suck.

  “What’s going on?”

  Both of them looked over to see Helena in the doorway, freshly showered, her eyes bloodshot. Cash could tell she’d had too much to drink in the last little while.

  “Just trying to convince our guest he should tell us where his friends are holed up,” Quinn told her.

  Helena tilted her head, eyes on Cash. “Are you going to tell us?”

  Cash said, “If I knew, I would.”

  “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry.”

  To Quinn, Helena said, “He doesn’t know.”

  “What?” Quinn balked. “You believe him?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not. But, fuck it. I’m tired.” Her eyes fell on the torch. “Turn that thing off, Quinn.”

  Quinn hesitated, shooting Cash a dirty look, but then did as ordered. Cash could tell little boy Four Eyes was sorely disappointed and wondered if the kid was a sadist.

  “If we’re not going to make him talk,” Quinn asked her, “what are we going to do with him?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she replied. “Maybe use him as bait.”

  Cash decided to chime in. “Good idea. Use me as bait.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Quinn snapped. “Helena, can I talk to you upstairs, please?”

  She walked out of the room and Quinn followed, slamming the steel door behind them.

  They’d forgotten to turn the light off this time. It’s the little things in life that make it worth living, Cash though, and snickered to himself.

  His sense of hearing was elevated beyond that of a human being but even so, despite straining, the thickness of the steel door made eavesdropping impossible. What could they be talking about? If they went upstairs, he knew he’d be able to hear, if not what was actually being said, then at least the tones of their voices. He didn’t know why that would be. The ceiling, like the rest of the room except for the door, was concrete. Maybe sound travelled differently when it was above? Did it float down, as if pulled by gravity? He didn’t think so. The idea was ridiculous.

  Mind wandering back to Bliss, Cash tried to remember how Bliss had escaped his own time in captivity. If he recalled correctly, Bliss had said he’d “charmed” his way out of it, which was what Cash himself had been trying to do, at least to some degree.

  The door opened again and Helena entered, alone this time. She held no torture devices but Cash did note the sliver blade in the waist band of her jeans.

  She sat before him, in the chair recently occupied by Quinn, though turning it around and seating herself properly, legs crossed.

  “I guess we have a few things to discuss,” she said, her tone conversational.

  “Something besides your parents?” he asked. He couldn’t help himself. Taunting humans had become his nature.

  Helena was unfazed. Maybe the alcohol had mellowed her demeanor. “I want you to take us to them.”

  “I told you, I don’t know where they are.”

  “You seem like you’re not a complete idiot. I’m sure you could figure it out.”

  Cash thought about it, then said, “No, I don’t think I could.”

  “He goes where the bodies are.”

  “True enough. You should be able to track him yourself.”

  “Oh, we intend to. Tomorrow, in fact. When I said I want you to take us to him, I might have been a bit unclear. What I meant was, I want you to make the introductions.”

  Cash didn’t know what to say for a moment. He carefully studied her expression, searching for a lie. “I don’t think you need me to do that.”

  “I don’t care what you think. But I’ve decided you could be incredibly useful to us, particularly if it appears you’ve joined the other side. Our side.”

  Now it was her turn to carefully gauge his reaction. Her gaze was so intensely focused on his face that he imagined he could feel her mind probing his. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. He decided to take the plunge. He had nothing to lose.

  “I will be on your side. Not acting. I want to become a hunter.”

  If she was surprised, she was very good at hiding it. Maybe he wasn’t the first monster to put forward this proposal.

  He was uneasy when she smiled.


  She said, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  CHAPTER 13

  The woman Opal had resurrected was named Willa Priestly and she’d been forty-eight at the time of her death, murdered, as too many women were, by her own husband, in her home, in the year 1971.

  Opal took a shine to her immediately.

  She talked in a low, soothing voice to Willa, brushed her hair for her, even offered to put makeup on her, despite the fact that neither Melosia nor herself wore very much of the stuff. Mel did have a tube of lipstick, however, a fine plum color, but when Opal had tried applying it to Willa’s lips, the woman had squirmed away, twisting her head back and forth out of Opal’s reach.

  Eventually, Opal gave up and settled for just talking with Willa, who was either terrified or painfully shy. Opal hadn’t yet discovered which. Maybe she was both.

  So far, all she’d managed to get out of Willa was her husband’s name (Howard), the year she thought it was and the last thing she remembered: Howard raging at her, convinced that she’d been flirting with a local grocer, which escalated into him hitting her repeatedly with his fists and the next thing she recalled was being hit from behind with something very hard and heavy, a bright flash of white and then nothing.

  Opal knew how she felt, having been murdered herself.

  Walt, who’d been listening to some of the mostly one-sided conversation, snickered at this last.

  “Yeah, you’re a real victim, Opal.”

  She glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you killed someone yourself, dumbass. Some might say you got what was coming to you.”

  “It was either that or get killed myself!” she insisted.

  “Which you did anyway,” he laughed. “Good job there.”

  Opal turned back to Willa with a disgusted expression. “Just ignore him. He’s a drunk.”

  “I heard that,” Walt said, clearly indifferent to what was supposed to be an insult.

  “Did you have any children?” Opal asked Willa.

  Willa hesitantly nodded. “Two. Two boys. Charles and Harold.”

  “That sounds nice. I wonder where they are now? How old were they when you…left?”

  “Five and three.”

  “Wow. They might still live around here.”

  “You better put that thought right out of your dopey head,” Walt said.

  Opal rolled her eyes. “What thought?”

  “Looking for her damn kids. Bliss would never allow it and he’s fucking right. You don’t go looking for your past. That’s Resurrection 101.”

  She turned back to him, cheeks flushing. “Will you please just shut up? I don’t know who the hell you think you are.”

  “He’s right,” Bliss said entering the room and buckling his belt. “And you’re the one who needs to shut up. This woman is gonna be a nuisance and you need to dispose of her right now.”

  “What?” Opal cried. “Dispose of her? You think she’s a bag of trash?”

  “I think she’s trouble and I’m starting to think you are too. Now do as I say.” Bliss began to walk out of the room but Opal stood up and grabbed his arm, turning him back.

  “Excuse me? Are you out of your goddamn mind? She’s sitting right there!”

  For an instant, Opal saw Bliss’s eyes flash red and instinctively flinched. She was wise to do so as the next thing she knew, he had a hand around her throat and was pushing her back into the nearest wall. Before he could say anything, she was screaming.

  “Go ahead and kill me then, you bastard! I don’t care! I didn’t ask you to bring me back!”

  “Shut up!” he hissed, his nose almost touching hers as his fangs began to drop and his tusks pushed forward, tearing the skin over his cheek bones.

  Behind him, Willa made a whimpering sound and got up, making a break for the front door of the farmhouse but Walt nimbly stepped in her pathway and grabbed her by the shoulders, swinging her around so her back was pressed against his chest.

  “Easy, woman,” he said. “No need to get your panties in a twist. We’re all friends here.”

  Bliss looked over his shoulder at them, giving Willa an even better glimpse of his monster face and Opal admired the woman’s ability to keep a scream in check. How awful had her life been, that, when faced with true terror, she was able to keep her fear to a low whining?

  Opal wrestled herself out of Bliss’s grip, slamming his arm away. “You’re scaring her!”

  Already his face was returning to human and though his speech wasn’t totally clear, it could at least be understood.

  “She should be scared,” he said. “We’re not on a goddamn trip to Disneyland.”

  Hurrying over to Willa, Opal took her by the hand and led her out of Walt’s arms. “It’s okay,” she told the older woman. “He looks scary but he won’t hurt us.”

  Bliss scowled at this and Opal knew what she’d said could be false, but she hoped not. Even when he was angry, he still wanted the Rumblers to grow in strength and number. Executing the raised would be the complete opposite of what he was trying to accomplish.

  “She has to prove her worth,” Bliss told Opal, pointing at Willa. “She’s not gonna stay around here just so you can have a cute pet to play with after you pick the meat out from between your teeth.”

  “I know!” Opal griped. “She’s not a pet! She’s a friend. And you don’t have to worry about anything else. I’ll make sure she knows what to do.”

  “She ain’t a killer,” Walt reminded everyone. “If you don’t have a taste for what we do, it never works out.”

  Bliss nodded and looked at Opal, his expression saying, see?

  “Anyone can be made into a killer,” Opal said. “I wasn’t born a killer. Were any of you born killers? It’s the shit that happens to us that makes us killers and Willa had plenty of shit happen to her too. She’s just scared right now. You just wait. I’ll show her how to find the anger and pull it up out of her like pulling a trout out of a river. She’ll be good. I have a good feeling about her.”

  The men exchanged skeptical looks but gave up on arguing. When the shit hit the fan, it would be Opal cleaning it up, not them.

  “Whatever,” Bliss said. “We have to hit the road. Funeral’s at four o’clock which means the people should be gone by five. Then we wait until dark and head over to the cemetery. Make sure no one’s lurking around and then we get to work. Melosia called the funeral parlor. Definitely a burial. We’re good to go.”

  Opal was enthused about what was to happen this evening. It would be the first time she’d seen Gunnar at work and she wanted to study the happening carefully. What did he do that was so much more special than what she had done? Exactly why was he the only one who was supposed to raise them? It made no sense to her. If they all had the same ability, the army could grow that much faster. But he forbade it and she suspected it was nothing more than him on a power trip, which struck her as juvenile and disgusting. Was it the equivalent of an older sibling demanding to stay up half an hour later than the younger children or getting the biggest slice of pie?

  Absurd.

  She would be happy to follow the rules if she witnessed something remarkable tonight but if not, if it was the very same thing she could do herself, with absolutely no “training” whatsoever, she was going to have to rethink running with this gang. Why should she, or anyone, bow down to a king when they possessed the very same crown? Unless there was something she was missing, she could think of no reason to stay with these people when she and Willa could go off on their own and be every bit as successful.

  She sensed Gunnar’s eyes on her, but paid him no mind. Instead, she put her arm around Willa’s shoulder and gently rubbed her skin, hoping to soothe the woman’s frayed nerves.

  “How did he do that?” Willa whispered. “Change like that?”

  Instead of answering, Opal took Willa by the hand and led her outside. The day was crisp and clear-a fine day for a funeral-and together they walked out
into the back yard and sat down on patches of dead grass.

  “Gunnar thinks he’s special,” Opal told Willa. “And I guess he might be. All I know for sure though is I can do the same as him and so can all the others.”

  Willa’s eyes widened with alarm and Opal patted her knee.

  “You can do it too, Willa. You can change all by yourself and the thing is, when you have to do it, you won’t even need to try. It’ll just happen all on its own. Kind of like when you’re a girl and the blood comes. You didn’t have to do anything then, right? The body just works its magic and takes you along for the ride. You’ll be perfectly safe from now on. No stupid man will ever put his filthy paws on you again and if one tries? You’ll be able to tear his head clean off his shoulders. Hell, if one even thinks about trying, he automatically becomes a dead man. Simple as that.”

  Willa clearly wasn’t sure what to make of this information but Opal could see the last part of it intrigued her to some degree at least. A woman can only get hit by a man-or men-so many times before she starts to fantasize what his blood would feel like on her hands, or maybe dripping from her chin…tingling her tongue.

  It was a very fine fantasy indeed.

  CHAPTER 14

  It was Sam’s idea to fit Justin Cash with a shock collar. He went down to the local pet store and bought the most brutal one they carried and when he brought it home, Quinn had gone to work on it.

  Helena wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but she knew he’d made it into something not just illegal but potentially deadly.

  Cash surprised them all by agreeing to wear it without complaint, which, to Helena anyway, meant he was probably serious about wanting to join their side of the fight. Sam didn’t believe him at all and was certain they were all about to be led into a trap but at least he’d be able to give Cash a hopefully fatal jolt of electricity before he was brought down himself.

  Of course, the shock wouldn’t kill Cash and they all knew it, but they could hope just the same. If nothing else, it was going to hurt like a bitch if he stepped so much as an inch out of line and with Sam holding the remote, Helena wouldn’t have been surprised to see her old mentor zap the kid just for shits and giggles.