Undead to the World

by DD Barant

  I want to argue. I want to tell him that these are—or were—ordinary people, before Longinus got ahold of them. Maybe some of them could have made better choices in the religion department, but none of them asked to be turned into bloodthirsty creatures of the night.

  But I don’t say a thing … because he’s right. I could hear it in Zhang’s hungry whisper drifting out of the shadows; I could see it in Isamu’s cruel eyes. Even Neil, with his soft-spoken musings on the tortures he planned to inflict, practically radiated it: evil. The real thing, fully self-aware and predatory, utterly without mercy and deriving immense satisfaction from the suffering of others. An implacable, elemental force, indulging in destruction for destruction’s sake.

  “Yeah, okay,” I say wearily. “They’re the bad guys. No problem. Never mind that some of them look like people I care about, or remember chatting with in a supermarket line, or maybe even got naked with. Nope. Just line ’em up and I’ll take ’em down.…”

  We troop out of the garage and back into the house. We make it as far as the kitchen, then collapse into chairs around the table. Terrance has been pretty quiet up until now, no doubt trying to sort out the conflicting things his brain is telling him. I haven’t had a chance to ask him about the memory he relived, and even with all the other craziness he’s been thrown into, it must be eating at him.

  “Hey,” I say. “You all right?”

  He doesn’t look at me when he answers. “Getting there. I know what we have to do next.”

  “Oh?”

  “Go after the Gallowsman. He’s the key to all this.”

  That’s more coherent than I was expecting, but good news; it means Terrance is adapting. “You think?”

  “Yeah. I—Terrance, I mean—was just screwing with you when he told you that story, but you’re the one the Gallowsman is focusing on.”

  Interesting; he seems to have the memories of Terrance, Tair, and Doctor Pete, or some combination thereof. “I thought it was supposed to possess the body of a suicide and then target the ones who made the victim’s life miserable.”

  “That’s what Terrance said, yeah. Because that’s what he was told to say.”

  “By whom?”

  “Whom do you think? His father. Mayor Leo knows all about the cult, though he isn’t a member. That means he took orders from the real town leader—Longinus.”

  “More smoke and mirrors,” Charlie grunts.

  “So what’s the actual story?” I ask.

  Terrance frowns. “The Gallowsman is some kind of bad luck and despair vacuum. Sucks it up and hands it over to a specific target—in this case, you.”

  I nod. “That much we know. And with me primed by your little urban legend, presumably I was eventually supposed to go out to the woods to off myself in the hopes of a little postmortem payback.”

  It’s Charlie’s turn to frown. “But you aren’t supposed to die—just suffer, right?”

  “Sure. Which means any attempt to kill myself wouldn’t work—Ahaseurus wouldn’t leave an obvious escape clause like that in place. It’s just another way to demoralize me; after all, once you’ve tried to kill yourself and failed, you’ve pretty much hit bottom.”

  Unless, you know, you’re then responsible for the slaughter of your entire race. That might just depress you a touch.

  “Terrance doesn’t know a lot about the cult, but one of his friends does,” Terrance says. “Zev. He’s the one who told Terrance about the tunnels.”

  Zev? Now the name sounds familiar, in that double-resonance sort of way that means I must have known him before Ahaseurus stuck me here. “So why does the local bad boy’s sidekick know more about the town’s secret history than the mayor’s son?”

  Terrance shrugs. “Same reason everything happens around here, probably; something to do with you, and screwing with your head. But there are two facts I am sure of. The first is that the Gallowsman is at the center of this, magically speaking. Eliminate him, and all the spells woven through this place fall apart.”

  “And the second?”

  “That Zev’s loyal to Terrance, and he’s the only one in town who knows about the tunnels but isn’t a member of the cult. If I ask him to help, he will.”

  I study Terrance’s face. What he’s saying rings true, but at this point I suspect everyone and everything. “What’s the first thing you gave me when we met?”

  He looks blank for a second, then smiles. “Oh. A mug of Urthbone tea, to help with your Reality Dislocation Trauma. You wanted coffee, but I insisted you drink the tea first.”

  I sigh in relief. Doctor Pete seems to be the one in charge of the brain. “Okay. Well, we should either go after the Gallowsman or the master vampire, and at least we know where the Gallowsman is likely to be—plus, we have someone to play tour guide. If you think Zev will go for that.”

  “Oh, I think he will. In fact, I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Then let’s pay him a visit,” I say, getting to my feet. “And, Doctor Pete? Welcome to the party.”

  He hesitates, then gives me a smile in return.

  “Terrific,” Charlie mutters as we head for the door. “For once, I was hoping we’d get the ruthless killer instead of the medic. I just hope we don’t need him.…”

  * * *

  We take Athena Shaker’s car—with her still in the trunk—down a dirt track to a spot just outside of town, where there’s a little wooden shack hidden by a stand of birch trees between two wheat fields. I tried calling Alexis before we left, but got no answer. That worries me, but I can’t waste time looking for her.

  Doctor Pete informs us that this is where Terrance and his little gang like to hole up and drink cheap beer when they can’t afford the Quarry. Zev’s inside—and he isn’t alone.

  I can hear the noises from inside the shack as we get out of the car. Neither of them are exactly trying to be quiet, and I recognize Sally January’s voice almost immediately.

  From the look on Doctor Pete’s face, so does he. “… the hell?” he mutters, strides forward, and yanks the rickety wooden door open.

  “Ah,” says Charlie as we follow. “The distinctive yet oddly disturbing sound of two biological entities trying to smush themselves together to make a third. No wonder it’s the inspiration for all the great art of the ages.”

  “Sounds more like they’re trying to invoke a deity,” I remark. “The God of Oh, I think.”

  That’s as far as we get before Zev comes flying through the open doorway. From her surprised shriek, I guess Sally wasn’t expecting her current boyfriend’s sudden arrival. Neither was I, frankly, but it looks like Terrance still has some influence in the decision-making process.

  “Terrance and Sally had a thing,” I tell Charlie as we look down at the naked man sprawled at our feet.

  “Looks like Zev has one, too,” Charlie observes. “Guess Sally wanted to compare.”

  Zev grins, then bounds to his feet like a chimpanzee. “Buddy!” he says as Terrance steams outside, a naked Sally trying to hold him back. “Come on, man—it’s not like you were serious about her—”

  I step between them. “Cut it out,” I snap. “Hey, Doc—remember who you are.”

  That stops him. He blinks, breathing hard, and forces the scowl off his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “You’re right. I don’t even know this woman.”

  “Doc?” Sally says. She looks Doctor Pete up and down, notes the tattoos and absence of haircut or shave. “You’re not … what the hell’s going on?”

  “Long story,” I say. “Both of you get dressed, then get back out here. Zev, we need your help.”

  Zev shrugs. “Okay. No hard feelings, right?” He claps Doctor Pete on the shoulder as he strolls past.

  “Loyal to the end, huh?” Charlie says.

  They’re back out in a few minutes. “We thought it was the apocalypse,” Sally blurts out. “All the crazy stuff happening? That freaky storm that won’t let anyone leave? And—and what happened to Alexis—” She breaks
down and starts to cry. It looks like she wants to fall into Terrance’s arms, but Terrance isn’t here anymore. Doctor Pete regards her with all the warmth of a snowman in midwinter—as opposed to a new man in January.

  “What happened to Alexis?” I ask.

  “She called me,” Sally sobs. “She was driving. Said she had to get out of here. I told her she couldn’t, that the lightning would get her, but she wouldn’t listen. I heard it strike, and she screamed, and then there was this horrible buzzing noise.…” That’s as much as she can get out; her sobs become wails, and it’s Charlie who grabs her before she can hit the ground.

  Doctor Pete looks grim. Zev looks unimpressed. “Zap zap zap, right off the map,” he says. “At least it was quick. One tap of the cosmic cattle prod and you’re burnt toast—not even time to do the Frankenstein Shuffle.” He mimes a stiff-legged sleepwalker pose, then jitters violently from side to side.

  I deck him. It’s a carefully calculated blow, delivered with my elbow and not my fist, and while it may loosen a few teeth or crack his jawbone, it won’t actually kill him. His head snaps to the right, he spins halfway around and then drops bonelessly into the dirt.

  “Damn it,” I mutter. “Now we have to wait for him to wake up.…”

  We stick him in the rear seat between Doctor Pete and Sally, while Charlie drives and I ride shotgun. We head back the way we came and keep going, all the way through town. It’s still eerily deserted, no one on the streets at all. This may not be the end of the world, but you can see it from here.…

  Zev didn’t tell Terrance much about the tunnels, and they’re too extensive for me to recall them in detail from the brief glimpse of the map I got—but I remember a few things. One is the well beneath the church; the other is an entrance located in a basement.

  The basement of the Longinus house, of course.

  We park outside. The constant thumping from the trunk has stopped. Sally’s so overwhelmed she hasn’t even noticed it, and Zev is still unconscious—until Doctor Pete does something medical involving a nerve cluster and a sharp pinch. Zev snaps awake with a howl of pain.

  “Rise and shine,” says Doctor Pete.

  “Where are we?” Zev asks, rubbing his jaw.

  “Old Man Longinus’s house,” I say. “He asked me to water his plants while he’s out of town, but I can’t find the darn watering can. You’re going to help me look.”

  “Yeah, sounds like a real party, but I think I’ll pass.”

  “He said something about it being in a tunnel.”

  Zev’s eyes get wider and he barks with laughter. “Oh! I get it. You want to get down and dirty underneath the streets. I can dig that.”

  “I don’t want to do any digging, Zev. More like a little hunting.”

  “Yeah? You planning on throwing together a rat stew? ’Cause that’s about all that’s down there—” He stops as he realizes what I’m talking about, and a smile spreads across his face. “Oho. I gotcha. What the hell, why not? Go after the Gallowsman before he comes after us. Hope you got a really big pair of scissors, though.”

  I show him the shotgun. “This’ll have to do.”

  “Got one for me?”

  “Sorry, no. You’ll have to rely on your razor-sharp wit.”

  “Hey, story of my life.”

  We get out of the car. Sally looks around nervously. “This is crazy. I must be crazy.”

  “Well, you slept with him,” I say, jerking a thumb in Zev’s direction. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement of clear thinking … but crazy? Nah. I know crazy. This is dangerous and possibly a horror-movie cliché, but there’s a lot to be said for a preemptive strike—not to mention the element of surprise. If the victims in all those slasher films tried running at the killer instead of away, they’d probably stand a lot better chance of surviving.”

  We step onto the porch and I try the door. Still unlocked. I open it and lead my little band inside. The house has that empty feel, but I stay alert as we head down the hall and into the basement.

  The room with the altar is just like Charlie and I left it; if someone’s been here they haven’t moved anything. I kick a black pillow out of my way and stand in the center of the room, doing my best to remember what I saw on the map. The entrance had been close to the south wall, but not on it—which would mean …

  I walk over to the altar. It looks like a single chunk of solid stone, but my fingers find a very faint seam an inch or so below the top.

  Zev steps forward. “It’s on a swivel,” he says. He puts his hands on the edge and pushes; the top of the altar grates to one side in an arc.

  “How’d you find out about this?” I ask him, peering inside. A wooden ladder descends into darkness.

  “Let’s just say that some middle-aged married ladies in this town like to drink wine in the afternoon with irreverent young stud muffins,” Zev says. He fumbles with the underside of the lid, then produces two flashlights, one a small LED and the other the old-fashioned kind with the long, rubberized grip. “Ladies who like to show off how sophisticatedly perverse they are. Not much compensation for all the sagging flesh, but better than dressing up in a clown costume and calling her Mommy.…”

  He gives the small light to me, and keeps the other for himself. “After you,” he says.

  I hand the shotgun to Charlie, turn on the flashlight, and shine it down the hole. The ladder goes down about twenty feet and ends in what looks like stone. I hold the light between my teeth and clamber down, hoping I won’t run into any booby traps along the way.

  I get to the bottom and look around. The tunnel’s like something you’d find under the streets of Paris, or maybe Rome. An arched roof overhead; flat, smooth floor; everything made of mortared stone. The tunnel goes straight for about thirty feet and then branches.

  “All clear,” I say. “Come on down.”

  Doctor Pete, Zev, and Sally follow, with Charlie bringing up the rear. He tosses the shotgun to me first, and I snag it out of the air one-handed.

  “Okay,” I say once Charlie steps down. “You’re the expert, Zev. How well do you know these tunnels?”

  “Oh, pretty damn well,” he says. “Mrs. Johnson took me here on many a dreary afternoon. Gave her a real thrill to do it below the grocery store or post office, thinking about everyone going about their business with no clue what was happening right under their feet.…”

  “So where do we look for the Gallowsman?”

  He chuckles. “Follow me.”

  He doesn’t wait for any further questions, just struts along the tunnel as confidently as an usher in a darkened theater. If this were a horror movie, he’d be the wise-ass who dies halfway through cracking an offensive joke, a role that otherwise might have been played by me.

  Makes me glad he’s the one in the lead.

  We have to hurry to catch up with him. “How about a little more information?” I hiss.

  “What, and ruin the surprise?” He doesn’t turn around, but I can hear the grin in his voice. “Just chill out, okay? You’re in good hands.”

  “I’d prefer your hands where I can see them,” I mutter, but there’s not much more I can do at this point other than trust him. I don’t, but I do have a shotgun pointed at his back, which is the next best thing.

  He takes the tunnel that goes left, then another that forks right, then another right. He seems supremely confident of where he’s going, never hesitating or slowing down. I keep expecting iron spikes to shoot out of the wall and impale him, but nothing like that happens.

  We come to an intersection with shafts branching off in three directions, and he finally stops. Looks around, plays the beam of his flashlight down one way, then another. “Hmmmm. Okay, I’m pretty sure it’s this way.” He leads us ten feet or so down the center tunnel, then stops. Looks up at the roof. “Damn. Okay, just stay here for a second, I need to check something.…

  He pushes past us and back into the intersection.

  His flashlight goes out.

  “Z
ev?” I call. “You all right?”

  No answer. Of course not. This is the part of the movie where the wise-ass decides it would be funny to pretend the killer got him, and then jumps out from the shadows and makes everyone scream.

  Then again, these days directors like to play with your expectations. It’s just as likely that his severed head will suddenly drop into our laps, or even that he’ll pull his little joke and then get chopped to pieces a second later. Whatever it takes to make the audience jump—

  Sally screams.

  I spin around. Sally’s eyes are wide and terrified, and she’s pointing farther down the tunnel. “I saw it! I saw its eyes!”

  I shine my beam in that direction, but there’s nothing there now. “Charlie? Doctor Pete? You see anything?”

  “Thought I saw a flash of red,” Charlie says.

  “No,” says Doctor Pete. “Yellow. Definitely yellow.”

  “It was both,” Sally whispers. “Two glowing eyes—one red, one yellow.”

  There’s a moment of silence while we digest that, and then I hear the chuckle. Zev’s chuckle, coming from somewhere ahead—he must have gone up another tunnel and doubled back. “Red and yellow,” he says, his mocking voice echoing off the stone walls. “But no green and no go. Stop dead or stand and yield.”

  “Uh-oh,” Charlie says.

  “Y’think?” I snap.

  “Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” Zev says. “My turn for a little roughhousing, right? Let’s see: My former best friend threw me around and gave me a nasty little pinch, but Ms. Valchek elbowed me in the face. Charlie’s thrown me out of his bar on more than one occasion. Which should it be, I wonder?”

  There’s a dull crack, like wood breaking, right beside me. Sally crumples to the ground. I swing the light in the other direction, but Zev’s already gone.

  Doctor Pete’s kneeling beside her. Blood spreads in an ever-widening pool under her head, and her eyes are wide open. He looks for a pulse but I can tell he isn’t having any luck.