Rockabilly Limbo

by William W. Johnstone

  A deep, not unpleasant voice sprang out of the air, singing the ballad from High Noon. It wasn’t the voice of Tex Ritter, but it was close.

  “Very funny,” Hank said. “Tex Ritter, you ain’t. So why don’t you just shut up?”

  The singing faded away.

  “Katti was right,” Cole said. “That . . . thing knows our every move. How the hell are we going to be safe?”

  Hank smiled. “You know anything about Michael, Cole?”

  “The Michael in the Bible?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not very much. I’ve heard some people refer to him as God’s mercenary.”

  “That’s close enough. Michael was—and probably still is—a bad dude to fool with. You want to hear theory?”

  “Why not?”

  “I think, maybe,” he cautioned, “somebody up there,” he pointed to the ceiling and beyond; everybody knew he was referring to the heavens, but they only had it half-right, “has smiled on this group.”

  “Why would God or Michael smile on us?” Jim asked. “I don’t know about Ruth, but speaking for the rest of us, we’re not an especially religious bunch.”

  Hank again smiled. “But I know from talking with each of you that you’ve all accepted Christ and have been baptized, right?”

  They all nodded their heads, Cole saying, “But we’re not practicing Christians, Hank.”

  “Aren’t you?” the priest countered. “Tell me, what have you done that was especially evil the past year . . . any of you?”

  “I didn’t go to church,” Gary said.

  “So you believe you have to congregate in order to be a good Christian?”

  “I don’t,” Cole said. “I’m probably wrong, but I don’t believe that at all.”

  “Nor do I,” Gary said, as Beverly and Jim nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Tell me something else you’ve done that you consider evil,” Hank pressed. “Did you cheat anyone in business? Did you abuse a child or an elderly person? Did you torture a helpless animal? Did you get drunk and run over someone?” He chuckled. “We won’t go into fornication, for in my opinion, the Bible’s full of that. Come on, tell me something evil you’ve done.” He waited for a moment, then said, “I know for a fact that you all give to charities, more than most. Jim and Gary donate a lot of hours to cases they know can’t pay their fees. But they do it anyway. How many children do you sponsor around the globe, Cole? A dozen or so? Yes. Katti volunteers a lot of hours to various charitable organizations. None of you read or watch pornography. You men might have looked at a beautiful woman and lusted after her. Hell, I do that! In short, the list of good that you do far outweighs any bad that you might do. You’re all much better people than you give yourselves credit for being. The main thing is, you’re not hypocrites. You don’t come to church on Sunday and go out Monday and cheat somebody in business, or ignore the helpless, or say bad things about people, or cheat on your wives, or try to be someone you know you’re not, or a hundred other things that I know some members of my congregation do on a regular basis, yet they profess to be great Christians. Some members of my congregation make me want to puke!”

  Organ music filled the den, a choir began singing: “Just as I Am.” Slightly off-key.

  “Oh, shut up, you asshole!” Hank said, looking around him.

  The music faded. The singing stopped.

  “Man,” Gary said to Hank, in a decidedly shaky voice. “You take chances.”

  “Not really. If he was going to harm us, he’d have done so before this. Whatever that thing is can pester us, annoy us, but for some reason, it can’t hurt us.”

  “But living beings on this earth damn sure can,” Cole said softly.

  Hank cut his eyes to Cole and nodded his head. “You got it.”

  “How about animals?” Jim asked.

  Hank shook his head. “I don’t think so. While I do believe, as did John Wesley, that certain domesticated animals have a place in Heaven, I don’t believe that animals can differentiate between right and wrong, good and evil.”

  “How about the snake in the Garden of Eden?” Beverly asked.

  “It was a good yarn,” Hank said.

  She quickly looked all around her, expecting a large cobra to come sailing out of the air.

  Hank watched her through amused eyes. “Relax, Bev. It’s people we’ve got to be wary of.”

  Cole stood up and buckled on a web belt. The belt held a holstered 9 mm autoloader, a pouch with two full clips for the pistol, and a magazine pouch with two full thirty-round mags filled with 5.56 rounds. He picked up a Ruger Mini-14 and jacked in a round, putting the weapon on safety. “Come on, Jim. Let’s take a walk-around. Gary, you stand the first watch. I’ll relieve you in two hours, then Jim can take it. Hank, you and Bev go to bed. Get some sleep. We’ll wake you when it’s your watch.”

  Jim carried a 9 mm autoloader and a 12-gauge shotgun, chambered for three-inch magnums, the barrel cut down to eighteen inches. At close range, a sawed-off shotgun is an awesome weapon.

  Outside, leaving the coolness of air-conditioning, the heat hit the men like a hot wet rag in the face. Sweat broke out on them instantly. It was nearly ten o’clock at night and the temperature was at least ninety degrees.

  As the men walked down the drive to the closed and locked wrought iron gates, Jim asked, “Are we overreacting, Cole?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe Hank is dead wrong. But I have this very uneasy feeling that he’s right on the money with this thing. As much as he’s telling us, that is.”

  “Dealing with the, well, supernatural twice in one year is a bit much, ol’ buddy.”

  “I think what’s facing us now is going to make our little adventure with the ghost clubs look like a walk in the park, Jim. Did you bring any perimeter bangers?”

  “A whole damn case of them.”

  “We’ll start laying them out after this walk-around. I wish to hell we had some Claymores.”

  The two Vietnam vets chuckled at that. Jim said, “And maybe a .50, an M-60, some M-16’s with bloop tubes, a chain gun or two, some mortars.”

  “Damn right.”

  Their war was twenty-five years behind them, but in their minds, the two vets had instantly reverted back to those days. As they walked, their eyes were constantly moving, checking out every dark spot, every shadow. They were not walking shoulder to shoulder, but had separated to each side of the drive, so a burst of fire would have less chance of taking them both out.

  As they approached the end of the drive, Jim said, “Car coming.”

  “I see it. It’s slowing, there go the turn lights. It’s a cop. He’s pulling in.”

  “You boys take it easy with those guns,” the deputy said, stepping out.

  “Turn off those damn headlights,” Cole told the young man. “You’ve just destroyed our night vision.”

  The young deputy stared at the pair for a second, then cut the lights. He stood behind the open door, the door providing him some slight protection in case things turned to shit in a hurry. “This is private property,” the deputy said. “Belongs to the Pearsons.”

  “Ruth is in the house,” Jim said. “We’re both PI’s out of Memphis. I’m an ex-Tennessee Trooper and Cole’s a retired deputy out of Louisiana. Has the shit-storm hit the rural areas yet?”

  The deputy relaxed and walked up to the gates. “It’s coming in spurts. But it’s definitely coming. I’m Russell Hampton. Call me Russ.” He stuck his hand through the bars.

  A very bad move on his part, Cole thought. He could easily get his arm broken doing that. Then he noticed that the young man was no more than twenty-one or twenty-two years old. Probably just out of his probationary period with the department.

  The men shook hands and introduced themselves.

  “Did Mrs. Pearson hire you men to guard her?”

  “You could say that,” Jim said. “We have an Episcopal priest with us, too.”

  “It’s a hell of a way to spend m
y honeymoon,” the deputy said. “Jenny and me just got married yesterday. We were supposed to leave for Disney World this morning. That got canceled. We got us a little place about a mile up the road. I just left there, after checking on her. She’s alone and plenty scared, let me tell you. So am I, as a matter of fact.”

  “You want to bring her here?” Cole asked. “She’d be safer with us.”

  “You sure Mrs. Pearson wouldn’t mind?”

  “Strength in numbers, Russ,” Jim told him.

  “Okay. That’s nice of you. Man, Jenny will be relieved. I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”

  “Always good to have the local cops on our side,” Jim said. “Unless he turns out to be one of, well, them.”

  “We’ll know in a few minutes.”

  “And if he is?”

  “If that’s the case, a certain young deputy’s life expectancy will be shortened considerably.”

  Five

  The young deputy was back in ten minutes. His bride waited in the car, and this time he asked the questions he should have asked before leaving.

  “How do I know you guys are who you say you are?”

  Cole and Jim handed him their PI licenses and driver’s licenses. Russ inspected their PI tickets and nodded his head, handing them back through the bars. “Can’t run any DL’s. Everything’s all jammed up.”

  “It’ll get worse,” Cole said. He unlocked the padlock that held the chain and swung the gates open. “Come on in. I doubt if anyone is asleep yet. If they are, you can be introduced in the morning.”

  But no one had as yet gone to sleep. “Of course, you’re welcome, child,” Ruth said, as Russ set a suitcase down. “Have you eaten yet? Either of you?”

  “No, ma’am,” the pretty, dark-haired girl said in a soft Tennessee drawl.

  “Well, we have plenty of sandwiches left and can always make more. Let’s get you settled in.” Ruth looked at Russ. “When are you off duty, young man?”

  “Technically, I’m off now,” ma’am. But I can be recalled at any time, and probably will be.”

  “Let them use your beeper,“ Cole said quickly. ” ‘Don’t tell them you’re at this number.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How about your parents?” Jim asked.

  “My parents are dead,” Russ replied. “Killed two years ago in a car wreck. Jenny’s parents live over near Cross-ville, out from town.”

  Jim smiled. “I thought that was an East Tennessee drawl.”

  Russ and Jenny took the last remaining bedroom and Cole and Jim went back outside to start stringing perimeter bangers all over the place, carefully checking their locations on a quickly drawn map of the estate. It was midnight when they finished.

  Cole stood the midnight to two watch, Jim was on until four, then Bev took it from there, letting Hank sleep. Russ’s beeper did not ring and the newlyweds were still asleep when Cole slipped from Katti’s side at six-thirty, silently dressed, then went into the den.

  “Quiet as a church,” Bev told him. “Around here, that is. But the nation’s cities have turned into war zones.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

  Cole poured a mug of coffee, sugared it, and returned to the den and sat down. Bev had the wide-screen TV on, the volume turned down low.

  “I’ve been channel surfing,” Bev said. “I’m not sure where that transmission originates. That system will pick up about a hundred and fifty channels. Not that it makes much difference. Things are bad all over.”

  “Any more federal buildings bombed?”

  “No. Now churches seem to be the target. So far, my Hank is right on the money with his predictions.”

  Bev and Hank were a most unlikely couple. But despite the differences in ages and occupations, they were genuinely in love and their marriage was rock solid.

  “You want to catch some sleep, Bev?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not a bit sleepy.”

  The ringing of the phone startled them both. Cole lifted the receiver. It was Scott Frey.

  “How are you guys doing out there in the country?”

  “Fine, Scott. No trouble, so far. How are things in the city?”

  “Chaotic. The governor has just issued a dusk to dawn curfew, state-wide, except for emergency personnel. Every National Guard unit in the state has been mobilized. I still think Hank is way off the mark as to what is behind all this, but you all were wise in leaving the city.”

  “What is the government’s position as to what, or whom, is behind all this?”

  Scott hesitated, cleared his throat, and said, “The President and the Attorney General both agree that it is a well-organized plot to overthrow the government of the United States.”

  “By whom, Scott?”

  “The AG strongly suspects that it is the work of Ben Raines and people who subscribe to his Tri-States philosophy.”

  “Who the hell is Ben Raines?” Cole blurted out the question.

  “He, ah, well, is supposedly a fictitious character from a series of books by an author who lives down in Louisiana.”

  “supposedly a fictitious character?”

  “Yes. But the Ashes series is highly critical of the government.”

  “Scott, have you been drinking?”

  “At six-thirty in the morning? No.”

  “Scott ...”

  “I know, Cole. I know. Off the record, the Bureau does not consider the AG’s theory to be a viable one. Off the record, most Bureau field agents think both the Director and the AG to be idiots. But we have to follow orders. This author has been under investigation for a year.”

  “For what?”

  “A number of things.”

  Cole sensed that he wasn’t going to get much out of Scott on this subject. But he tried one more time. “Since when is it against the law to be critical of the government?”

  “I didn’t say it was against the law, Cole.”

  “All right, Scott. Okay. Good luck in your pursuit of Ben Raines.”

  “I am not in pursuit of Ben Raines, Cole,” the Bureau man said quickly, and with some heat in his voice. “Ben Raines doesn’t exist. He’s a fictitious character.”

  “Easy, Scott. Just poking a little fun at you. How many people did you lose from the bombing?”

  “Not as many as first feared. We were working a skeleton staff as it was; all the agents were out in the field. But other offices weren’t so lucky.”

  “I am sorry, Scott.”

  “Thanks. Look, I just wanted to check on you folks. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Take it easy.”

  Scott broke the connection.

  Bev said, “What about the Ashes series?”

  “You familiar with it?”

  “Sure. I’ve been reading about Ben Raines and his Rebels for years. I could live under the Tri-States philosophy. Hank and I both read the series.”

  “Ben Raines is a pussy!” the voice sprang at the man and woman just as Jenny walked into the den, rubbing her eyes.

  The young woman stopped cold in her tracks and looked all around her. “What was that?” she asked.

  “Yum, yum!” the heavy voice said. “I saw what you did last night.”

  Jenny’s eyes grew round, her mouth dropping open.

  “Help yourself to coffee, Jenny,” Cole said. “And then take a seat. You want to be sitting down when I explain what’s happening.”

  * * *

  At nine o’clock that morning, the sky clouded over and a soft rain began falling in most parts of the nation. The heat wave broke from coast to coast, border to border. The rioting stopped. No more federal buildings or churches were bombed. Instances of looting and other lawlessness dropped down to normal percentages. It was as if the emotions of the population were controlled by a single master switch. Which, in this case, they were.

  The damage caused by the looting and burning and bombing, nationwide, was estimated to be in the hundreds of millions of dollars.


  The building where Jim Deaton’s offices were located had been destroyed. Hank’s church and residence had been firebombed and destroyed. Ruth’s mansion in Memphis had been looted and then gutted by fire. Cole and Katti’s home had been looted and the interior destroyed by fire. The apartment building where Gary lived had been heavily damaged by fire, as had the apartment complex where Sue Wong lived. The small home where Russ and Jenny were to live was burned to the ground.

  “That can’t be coincidence,” Ruth remarked, after Bob Jordan had called, informing them of what had happened.

  “Here’s Russ,” Beverly called from the window. “But he’s not driving his sheriff’s department unit.”

  “I was fired,” the young ex-deputy said, confusion on his face. “The sheriff called me into his office and fired me about an hour ago. He had a real mean, funny look in his eyes. It was like he wasn’t himself. He wouldn’t even let one of the guys take me back to my house for my car. I tried to bum a ride with a friend, a guy I’ve known all my life, and he told me to go to hell and drove off. I had to hire a taxi to drive me out to get my car. I don’t understand any of this.”

  “We’re between rounds,” Hank said. “And this may be a fifteen-round fight.”

  “What?” Russ asked, a bewildered look on his face. “But it’s all over. The rioting and looting and bombing have stopped. What are you talking about?”

  “Weren’t you listening this morning, Russ?” Cole asked. “I told you and Jenny—”

  “I don’t believe that devil business,” the young man said. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

  “I do!” Jenny said. “I heard that voice. You didn’t, Russell.”

  “Jenny,” the husband said patiently.

  “No!” she shouted the word at him. “Listen to me, Russell. The devil got to Sheriff Boudy. That’s why you lost your job . . .”

  “Oh, Jenny,” Russ said. “You can’t mean that. It’s foolish. The week-long intense heat just drove some people a little nutty, that’s all it was.”

  “And the bombings?” his young bride challenged. “What about them?”