"Where did I leave off?" she asked.
"Bernhard was trying to explain the weaknesses of the vampires," Roland said.
Patricia giggled, nibbled on her cake, then sipped some juice. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin with such grace Roland would have been easily convinced she came from royalty.
"Bernhard wasn't much for sugar coating the facts," she said. "It took the people in that church a long time to quiet down after hearing their chances of survival were not terribly good. These were just simple farmers and loggers. They were not trained soldiers. Even after all the tragedy that had befallen Kings Shore to that point, they still did not want to believe their own fate could be walking such a fine line."
When they finally hushed, Jacob Hebert said, "What is your plan? You do have a plan do you not?"
Bernhard stood and stepped back to the pulpit. A few hushed conversations continued, and that little man just stood there until every person in that room had stopped talking. Bernhard insisted on two things. When he spoke, he would have everyone's complete attention, and if someone interrupted him while he spoke, he would stop talking. Bernhard would stare down at any man who spoke while he was speaking. He cared not one iota how big they were. Bernhard didn't fear the vampires, and he sure as hell feared no mortal man.
"During the day," Bernhard continued, "we will search for the creatures' hiding places. If you find one, drag it into the sun. But be careful; they are helpless, but even a hare will struggle in the talons of an owl to preserve itself. It must be full sun. No shadows, no clouds."
"What do we do at night?" Jacob asked.
"Stay inside," Bernhard said. "This is most important. They can go into buildings, but they won't. Nobody knows why this is so, but please believe it."
It was Alfred's turn to speak. "So all we do is stay inside at night, and hunt them down after sunrise?"
"That is the simple explanation," Bernhard said. "Unfortunately it will not be as easy as that. Those things have a way of coaxing people from their homes. They make no sound, but somehow their call can be as loud as a mermaid's song."
"You mean they can hypnotize people?" Donna Mason said.
"I don't know if that is what they do, Miss…"
"Mason," she said. "Donna Mason."
"Well, Miss Mason, it is best if nobody stays alone. They have a way of sensing that. Like a pride of lions stalking a zebra that has strayed from the herd. Any person alone after sunset is at a higher risk of being lured outside by the monsters. They can talk. They even remember their existence before they turned, but most choose not to use verbal language."
"Why not?" Donna asked.
"I don't know," Bernhard replied.
"Seems to me," Alfred said, "that there is more you don't know than what you do."
"You have a knack of seeing through to the truth, sir," Bernhard said, looking directly at him.
"Why not tell us what you do know," Alfred jibed.
"I know if they come upon a former loved one, and make no mistake, they are former loved ones. These things do not bring family loyalties with them when they turn. But they will use it if they can. They may try to deceive you into thinking they are not demons. They have been known to rejoice when reuniting with family. Before you know it, you are in their arms, and when that happens, it will be the end for you."
Curtis had stopped weeping. He didn't speak this time, just sat nodding as Bernhard explained the behavior he had witnessed from his own son. The behavior that caused his wife to be taken by that son.
"Mr. Werner," Donna said. "This has all been quite informative, but is there a plan?"
Patricia sipped her juice, then looked to Roland. "Roland, my old bones are seizing up like an un-oiled machine. What do you say we take a walk?"
Roland downed his juice and sprung to his feet. "That is a great idea." He extended his hand in what had become their ritual, and she gratefully took it.
Chapter 44
They walked in silence until they got to the end of the driveway. The sun was high in the sky. A few wispy clouds hovered in an otherwise brilliant expanse of blue. The humidity had left the area taking with it the stagnant, oppressive heat. In its place was mild air made more comfortable by an intermittent breeze.
"Did he have a plan?" Roland finally asked.
"Bernhard?" She chuckled. "Bernhard wasn't much on planning. He was big on acting. Jacob Hebert was the planner, and boy did he. By the end of the day, he made sure that at least two people stayed in every home. He organized a meeting to discuss where the vampires might be hiding during the day. He had all the women making up firebombs like the one Bernhard used to burn the monster in front of Auntie's."
"It sounds like Jacob and Bernhard made the perfect pair," Roland said.
"They may well have, but Jacob didn't live long enough to test that theory out."
"What happened?"
"Poor Jacob," she said. "It was just after sunset. It wasn't quite dark yet. Jacob had this ratty old dog. His name was Winston. From his window, Jacob saw Winston eyeing something across the street. He opened the door and called to Winston, but the dog wouldn't come. He never was the brightest dog, but Jacob loved him like some people love a child. Do you know what I mean, Roland?"
Roland nodded with a grin.
"Anyway, it was like I said. Just after sunset, but not quite dark yet so Jacob thought it would be fine to go out and drag Winston into the house. I heard him holler at Winston to come.
"I went to the window. Bernhard heard him too. He swung that door open and yelled for Jacob to get back inside."
"He didn't make it," Roland said when Patricia paused.
"No, Roland. He heard Bernhard's warning, but before he could react a demon that once was a kindly man named John Moore appeared in front of Jacob. It was awful to watch. Poor Jacob smiled at the thing, not realizing that it only looked like John Moore.
"It snatched Jacob by the hair so fast I can't remember seeing it move. Jacob's scream was so high, he sounded almost like a girl. Then John Moore's new fangs sank deep into Jacob's throat. Winston latched onto the demon, but it took no notice. It didn't even try to dislodge that dog from its arm.
"Jacob fought the thing for a few seconds, then his arms fell to his side and he stood there like he was sound asleep standing up. It looked like a lover's embrace until I saw Jacob's blood dripping onto the road. Even in the fading light, his blood glowed bright crimson.
"I screamed at it, Roland. 'You leave him alone,' I yelled. Well, that monster released his grip on Jacob and looked right at me. His mouth opened into a bloody grin."
Patricia stopped walking. Her hands came to her face as though she were watching the horrific scene all over again. Roland put his arm around her shoulders and waited for her to continue.
"So long ago, and I can still see poor Jacob swaying in place beside that monster. Bernhard grew furious. I still don't know if his anger was aimed at Jacob for letting himself be caught like that, at the vampire, or at himself for not being able to stop what was happening.
"Bernhard turned and ran from the room. When he got back, he had one of those damnable firebombs. The vampire had returned to feeding from Jacob by the time Bernhard sprung from the front door. He set the cloth wick of that bottle afire so fast I thought maybe he had a touch of supernatural in him.
"The flame got that thing's attention, and this time it wasn't grinning. It hissed like a cat, grabbed poor dear Jacob by the hair and twisted his head right off his neck. The sound of that still wakes me in the night. Jacob's body fell to the ground in a heap. I could see blood squirt from the stump where Jacob's head had just been. The poor dear, after he was decapitated his heart continued to beat a few times. The dreadful creature stood with Jacob's head dangling from his hand for a moment. He had a look of satisfaction. Like he was telling us that Jacob's fate had been set in motion by our interference. Then he threw the head at Bernhard.
"Bernhard was able to dodge the macabre thi
ng. It sailed right into the house through the open door and crashed into the wall with a sickening thud. I am sorry to say that I screamed like a frightened child.
"His face. When Jacob's head fell to the floor, his eyes were wide open and looking at me. At least it seemed that way to me at the time. A small pool of blood gathered on the floor around it. It was a dreadful thing to see."
Patricia resumed walking, and Roland took his place at her side. He offered his arm, but she declined. Her steps were small and shaky at first, but as she continued toward the cemetery, her gait steadied a bit.
"The vampire disappeared before Bernhard could toss the bottle. Dejected, Bernhard pulled that burning cloth from the bottle and tossed it to the ground, getting a nasty burn to his fingers for the effort.
"It looked like magic. Do you know what I mean? The way they appeared and disappeared was like something from a movie. It wasn't really. The damn things were just so fast that you couldn't see them move. Can you believe that, Roland?"
"Patricia," he replied, "a few days ago I would have said you were as crazy as this whole thing sounds. Now, if you told me the earth was flat and Bigfoot lived in a room in your attic, I would believe it."
"Well, I doubt that is true, Roland. That you would believe those things, I mean. Anyway, everyone in this area knows that Bigfoot lives in the barn out back of my house."
They both had a welcome laugh at that. It was a rest from the hideous tale, and Roland and Patricia reveled in it.
"What does he eat?" Roland asked.
"Reporters," she said through continued giggles.
"So all those snacks and glasses of lemonade were just meant to fatten me up for the beast?"
Patricia shrugged and continued walking.
Chapter 45
Patricia took advantage of every one of the benches the good citizens of Kings Shore placed along the road between her house and the graveyard.
The first time Roland walked along with her, she had no trouble getting to the old bench she herself had placed at the cemetery gate. Roland looked at her now and wondered if she would have to sit here alone while he went back for the car. She looked better than yesterday, but she didn't look good.
Her shoulders slumped, and her hands had the slightest tremor. The confident, graceful strides she took on that first walk had been replaced by timid, shaky shuffling. She wasn't quite ready for the aid of a walker, but if she continued to slide at this rate, she would need something before the end of the week.
"Will you be okay to get back? You seem a bit fatigued," Roland said.
"I just need to rest, don't you fret about me at all."
"While you rest, I think I will have another look at the gravestones," Roland said.
"Jacob is two rows behind Mother and Daddy," she said. "Just off to the right a bit."
After one hundred years of visiting this place, Roland had little doubt that Patricia could map out the entire place while sitting at her kitchen table.
The marker at Jacob Hebert's grave was unassuming. He lay beneath a small grey granite stone inscribed with his name, the date of birth and death. No epitaph, no message celebrating a life complemented the dates. No carved decorations or crosses on the stone.
Roland stared down at the name, Jacob Hebert. The way Jacob met his end played like a movie inside Roland's head. It was like he was envisioning what Patricia had told him. He was certain something or someone projected the images into his mind from some unseen transmitter.
Roland cried out and began to shake as he saw the monster rip the head from Jacob's body. He staggered back from the grave, tripping over a small headstone and falling back.
Sitting in the grass, Roland squeezed his eyes closed so tight it hurt. The images didn't fade. It was as though he were floating over the headless body of Jacob Hebert. He watched in horror as the poor man's head sailed through the open door. He could hear the young voice of Patricia Owens, screaming in the distance.
Roland pushed himself away from Jacob's headstone until he crashed into another granite marker. Without reading the name on this one, he sprang to his feet, still hearing the screams. The images were gone, but he still heard the terrified wailing from the past.
Like a sprinter, Roland thrust himself forward, wanting nothing more in life than to be free of the carnage. As if the cemetery wanted him to stay, the grass beneath his feet tore away from the earth, and Roland fell to his knees.
A second effort had him tripping on an exposed tree root, and he went down again. Roland Millhouse crawled over the graves of at least five victims of the summer of 1912 before he tried to gain his feet again. His heart was pounding, sweat ran into his eyes, and his breathing came in enormous gulps. His left hand bled from an injury he didn't remember getting. When he got back to the gate, Patricia stood and began to walk back in the direction of home. She didn't speak, and Roland was glad for it. He wasn't sure he was capable of talking.
Chapter 46
Patricia's Journal—Saturday, July 6, 1912
We had to leave poor Jacob Hebert out in the street. Like so much trash. It just was not safe to go out there. Mr. Werner put his head in a sack and took it away. I can't imagine it. God have mercy on Mr. Hebert.
"In the morning they took Jacob's remains to the cemetery. No coffin, no marker, just a hastily dug hole. They placed him in, poured kerosene on him and set him ablaze."
Patricia, seated on a bench at the side of the road, shook her head, still trying to make peace with the indignity of it.
"When the flames went out, a couple of loggers went back to the grave and filled it in. No preacher said any words. Other than Winston, Jacob had no family in Kings Shore."
"What became of that dog?" Roland asked.
"Wouldn't you know it," she said. "That dog went mad. Some thought it was due to the loss of Jacob. I knew that wasn't the case. He bit down on that vampire the whole time it was feeding on Jacob. Poor thing had to get some of that monster's blood in his mouth. Whatever makes those things what they are is in the blood. Old Winston swallowed enough of it to turn him mad, no doubt about that."
"Did he get sick and die?" Roland asked.
"Bernhard shot him. In the morning, Winston was pulling big chunks of flesh from Jacob's body. When Bernhard saw that dog eating his own master, he was appalled. Of course, we all were, but it was Bernhard who acted. He retrieved his rifle and shot Winston five times.
"You know, Roland. I think Bernhard really took a liking to Jacob. Bernhard wasn't a man who had friends, but if anyone in Kings Shore was apt to become friends with Bernhard Werner, it would have been Jacob."
"From the sound of it, they complimented each other. Yin and yang sort of stuff," Roland said.
Patricia didn't reply to that. She gave a short nod and plodded on toward home.
Chapter 47
Patricia's Journal—Sunday, July 7, 1912
Every able-bodied person in town searched for the demons' hiding places. Where could they be? Daddy, I need you. Earl and Claudia Desmond went missing. I hope they escaped this place.
Patricia closed her journal. Roland reached over the coffee table in her parlor and took the book. He placed it on the table and waited.
"They didn't escape," she said, breaking the silence. "Earl and Claudia I mean."
"Did they return in the night?"
"That is a delicate way of putting it, Roland. Yes, they came back the next night. They walked into town like a couple of drunks. I don't know if it was because they were just new, but my thought is the demon blood was getting weaker. I think the farther down the family tree they got from the original monster, the weaker the resulting offspring."
"Sounds about right," Roland said.
"When I mentioned it to Bernhard, he went into deep thought. He didn't speak for the rest of the night. When he finally did speak, it was a revelation."
"People," Bernhard said. "I think we need to find the original monster. The one that brought this plague on your community. We
need to search every home and outbuilding until we find it."
"That could take months," Peter Malcolm said.
"Then we had better get started," Bernhard shot back.
Patricia giggled a bit. There was little in her story that would bring an urge for laughs of any kind, but when she spoke of Bernhard's character traits, it always brought an endearing glow to her face. "That Bernhard, he didn't take complaining in stride. It was a waste of breath in his mind," she assured him.
Roland marveled at the look of admiration that came over her when she spoke of Bernhard. The same expression she had when she spoke of her father. That is how it appeared to Roland.
"We split into four groups. Auntie, Bernhard and I went south, toward my home. We stopped at every farm and home along the east side of the road.
"It was near dusk when we got to this house. Bernhard ran through the outbuildings, while I went inside with Auntie. That whole day we searched for them. We found nothing.
"I was so tired and felt defeated. An entire day spent scouring the area, only to settle into this house knowing that those things would be out there hunting our friends and neighbors."
"It was your first day," Roland said. "It would have been quite a miracle to find them on the first day."
"I know that now, but back then I felt so low. The only thing that helped to pick my spirits up at all was being back home. In spite of what Bernhard and I had been through here, it was home."
"It's always good to get back home," Roland agreed.
"I slept in my own room that night. Auntie slept in the guest room that Daddy had set up just for her. Bernhard didn't sleep much, if at all. He stayed down here with a dozen of those bottle bombs and his rifle. Mother's room remained closed. I could not bear to look in there. Auntie or Bernhard must have gone in there sometime to replace the bedding. It was weeks before I grew brave enough to enter that room to find it the way it is today."
Evil Never Dies Page 15
