Evil Never Dies

by Mick Ridgewell

  "I think we had better stay close to home today. Don't you think?" Patricia said, as she pushed open the old door.

  Roland looked up with alarm at the frail sound of her voice. She must have noticed. With some effort, a smile blossomed on her face, easing his concern a bit.

  "I think you may have a point," Roland said, trotting up the steps to stand at her side.

  They stood on the porch for a moment studying the overcast morning like a pair of amateur meteorologists.

  "What do you think, young man?" she said. "Shall we stay out here, or retire to the parlor?"

  "Out here, I think," Roland said, motioning her to the wicker chairs. "Would you like me to get anything before we sit?"

  "Dear boy," she said through a giggle, "you know what to do."

  "Indeed I do." He walked her to her seat. She held his arm as she lowered herself to the cushion. Roland returned to the door, and just as he swung it open, Scuba jumped onto Patricia's lap and curled up on her brown polyester-covered legs. With a smile and a shake of his head, Roland went inside.

  In the kitchen, Roland found a familiar scene. Patricia had set a tray with tea and cookies. Everything was ready to be served. He reached for the tray, and his left hand brushed her journal lying on the counter. A chill surged up his arm, and he recoiled as though he'd been shocked.

  "Jesus," he said through a gasp.

  Being careful not to touch the book again, Roland picked up the tray and returned to the front porch. Placing the tray on the table between the two chairs, he looked to Patricia.

  She was off in that place again. A few days ago, he wished he could go with her to her place, but after a few nightmares, Patricia's mind was the last place he ever wanted to look into.

  Roland poured tea from the floral-print pot into the matching cups, dropped a sugar cube in each, and added a lemon wedge. Scuba watched his every move while he worked. He took the seat next to Patricia and waited for her to come back.

  The grey morning ushered in a drizzle that hung in the air like fog. Roland looked out toward the road, but visibility was limited to the sickly bushes that dominated the landscape of Patricia's yard.

  Not a breath of wind disturbed the mist. Droplets of water gathered on the porch railing. In a while, the moisture on the railing gathered enough to begin dripping. Scuba saw that as a sign of things to come and hopped off Patricia's lap and sauntered over to the door.

  "Like a rat leaving a sinking ship, do you think?" she mused. Then added, "Be a dear and let Scuba into the house. I don't think he wants to listen to our chat. Scuba scurried through the door without delay, and before Roland could close it, Patricia asked him if he would mind retrieving her journal.

  With more than a little dread, he did as asked.

  Chapter 57

  Patricia's Journal—July 12, 1912

  We can't keep this up much longer. No one in town has slept. Maybe that is their plan. If they keep us up all night, how can we hunt them during the day? We slept most of the day away. No monsters were found today. I dread the sunset.

  After she read this passage, Patricia went back to her place. She must feel safer there, Roland thought. Her journal hung loosely from her hands, and he retrieved it and placed it on the table next to the tray.

  "Roland," Patricia said coming out of her trance. "I think I need to go inside. Would you give me a hand?"

  "Are you alright?" he asked. His eyes were wide and bored into her. His immediate reaction was concern. This wasn't like her at all. "Should I call someone?"

  "You know," Patricia said with a weak grin. "I think maybe you should call my physician. His card is in a card-thingy on the desk in the study. Help me to my room, then give Mark a call. That's his name, Dr. Mark Dalton. He is a sweet boy, just like you, dear."

  Roland paced outside Patricia's room while the doctor checked her condition. Not a sound interrupted the steady plodding of his Reeboks on the hardwood floor.

  When her bedroom door opened, Roland stopped short. "Well, how is she?"

  "For a woman of 120 years, she is surprisingly good," Dr. Dalton said.

  "To be breathing at that age is an accomplishment," Roland replied. "But, how is she? When I met her just days ago, she could have passed for a young seventy-five. She seems to have aged twenty years in that time."

  "Yes," the young doctor agreed. "It does concern me that she has declined this rapidly, but there is little we can do. I would like to say she is a bit under the weather, but my gut tells me her body has finally decided to get old."

  "That's all you got," Roland said, doing his best to stifle the urge to yell at this man. "She is getting old."

  "If it were anyone else, I would advise her family to make sure her affairs are in order. But Miss Owens has defied pretty much all that we know about aging, so I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she got out of bed tomorrow and took her morning walk to the cemetery."

  "She has no family," Roland said.

  "I know," Dr. Dalton replied. "I have advised her many times about naming someone as power of attorney. Her solicitor tells me she finally did just that, two days ago."

  Roland tried to think. He was with her every day, and nobody had been to the house but him. The only time she would have had to make arrangements like that was when he had gone back to the B&B.

  "You must have made some impression on her, Mr. Millhouse."

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Miss Owens has named you as her power of attorney in all matters. Her financial and medical decisions are up to you, should she become incapacitated."

  "Me?"

  Mark Dalton looked him over like he might a used car. It was the kind of scrutiny every stranger got when they came into a small town. Roland looked down at his clothes, he was sure he had a stain on his shirt, or maybe the fly on his cargo shorts was down. Satisfied that his appearance met his own standards, Roland returned his gaze to Mark.

  "She asked me to send you in," Dalton said. "I will let myself out." With that, Dr. Dalton walked past Roland and out of the house.

  Chapter 58

  Roland stood in front of the old wooden door. He knew she was waiting for him, but he couldn't decide if he should knock or just enter.

  "Roland, are you there?" came a small voice from behind the closed door.

  He reached for the ornate brass knob and pushed the door open just far enough to peer into the room. Dr. Dalton had drawn the drapes, leaving the room filled with shadows.

  "Come in, Roland," Patricia called from her bed. "And be a dear and let some daylight in here. I don't know what it is about doctors. Before long, I will be spending eternity in complete darkness. There is no point rushing it along. Wouldn't you say?"

  "I learned very early on not to argue with you," Roland said, hustling over to the window.

  "You're a smart boy. A fast learner, we used to say. You will make some young lady a fine husband."

  While Patricia was praising him, Roland had made his way around the room, opening the drapes on two walls. The dreary clouds had moved off, and brilliant rays of warmth streamed into the room.

  "Ah, that's better. Don't you think so, Roland?"

  Roland nodded then asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you."

  Patricia was sitting up, big frilly pillows bunched up around her. Her cheeks had the glow Roland had come to recognize from the time he first met her. Her eyes were wide open and sparkled in the afternoon light.

  "The young doctor has forbade me getting out of bed today, so we are going to have our chat in here. So, if you would, run down to the kitchen and bring us some lemonade and cookies. You know where everything is. Then, when you return, pull one of those chairs close to the bed so I don't have to yell across the room."

  Roland did as instructed, and about twenty minutes later he sat in an armchair at Patricia's bedside.

  "As I mentioned downstairs," she began, "the day had been lost as far as finding any more of the monsters. Bernhard took on an obsession with that ugly
bald thing. He was sure it was the source of all the evil in Kings Shore, and if we could find and kill it, the others would either leave or be easy to dispose of. That was how he phrased it. Dispose of."

  Roland poured some lemonade and handed a glass to her. The ice cubes clinked against the glass as she took it in her shaky hand and raised it to her lips. Roland handed her a napkin, and she dabbed the moisture from her lips as he took the glass from her and placed it back on the nightstand.

  "Maybe we should take a day off," Roland said.

  "Nonsense," she said, waving away his gesture as silly.

  "The darkness in the street that night was like none I can remember seeing, before or since," she continued "There was no time to build the fires like we did the night before, and clouds had completely obscured what little moonlight might have come from that sliver of light we had seen the previous night." Roland tried to give her the lemonade, but she shook her head.

  "They didn't come right away. I have to admit I began to hope for the best. That just maybe they left, or even better, died out there in the woods. Bernhard didn't entertain such thoughts. He paced from room to room, scanning the street through slits in the curtains, squinting through the darkness.

  "I must say, I got the feeling that he could actually see in the dark. About two hours after sunset, Bernhard yelled through the closed window, 'Get inside you fool.' It was Tami." Patricia paused, squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh, I can't remember the girl's last name.

  "Isn't that silly? She was the prettiest girl in town. She was a year older than I was. We had gone to school together for years. She was loved by the men and reviled by the women. It wasn't her fault she was so pretty, so I didn't hold it against her. Tami had a smile that could light up a room. Unfortunately, few men saw her smile. That girl had the highest, perkiest bosom you could imagine.

  "I guess Tami let herself believe what I could only hope. That the monsters had moved on. She stepped out on her porch, to have a look down the street. She stood with a lantern extended out to the darkness.

  "She never saw them coming. Two vampires dropped onto her porch from nowhere. I heard screams from across the road. Not from Tami. It came from one of the windows. The voice sounded familiar to me but at the time I was so concerned for Tami, I didn't let the voice all the way in.

  "Tami looked stunned at first, like she didn't understand what was happening to her. Then her eyes took on a euphoric look. I am as sure as you are sitting here now, that Tami was enjoying the experience. Then her eyes drifted shut, and a moment later the two demons released her, and she fell to the ground.

  "When she fell her lantern erupted in flames, and one of the things didn't get out of the way in time. I just turned away from the window. I had seen enough of that macabre sight.

  "After a while, I rejoined Bernhard and Auntie at the window. The thing was still smoldering in the street. The dreadful smell had wafted into the house. I thought I would be sick from it.

  "It might be said that Tami gave her life to kill one of them, but that isn't how it turned out. Her lantern didn't just burn up a vampire. Her porch ignited. Then the whole house went up. Three people were in the house that night. Tami's father, and his brother. We will never know if they knew Tami had gone outside, but when that house started to burn, they ran into the street.

  "Bernhard yelled at them to carry some fire, but they fled the fire in panic. It was impossible to tell how many vampires there were. To me it felt like every time I laid eyes on one of them, it was the first time. Bernhard told me they can get into our heads and make us forget their faces. That is why he took notes. So he could try to get a count."

  Patricia motioned to her glass, and Roland handed it to her. Her hand now steady, had no sign of the tremor. She sipped some lemonade, and Roland put it back on the nightstand for her.

  "Do you need to rest?" he asked.

  She didn't reply. Patricia just closed her eyes. Roland raised himself from the chair as gently as he could manage, and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  Chapter 59

  Three hours later, Roland returned from town with soup and sandwiches from the deli. He expected to take a tray up to her room, but Patricia was sitting on the porch.

  "I guess you are feeling better," he said.

  "I am." She pointed at the bags and said, "What do you have there?"

  "Soup and sandwiches. I got you beef barley and egg salad. I hope that is okay? The girl at the deli told me it was your favorite."

  "Aneska?" Patricia asked. When he shrugged, indicating he had no idea what her name was, she added, "A pretty girl, dark skin, twenty-three years old?"

  "That sounds like her."

  "She is a doll, Roland. The next time you see her, you should really introduce yourself."

  "Miss Owens, are you trying to play matchmaker?" he said with a grin.

  "I'm just saying you aren't getting any younger. Do you want to be 120 years old some day and be all alone?"

  When their laughter trailed off, Roland said, "Patricia, I am not sure I want to live that long."

  "I can't blame you for that. I have had good health, but I have been to more funerals than I can count. Over the years I had many friends. I always volunteered to watch over those children when the mommas and daddies needed a break. Since I had no children of my own, I was happy to do it. When the little ones I watched over began to die from old age, I knew I had seen more than my share of years. I would have loved to have a few of my own, but I surely would have attended their funerals by now. How dreadful would that have been?"

  "I can't agree with you more," he said. "Shall we go into the dining room for some lunch?"

  "That sounds wonderful."

  "Just let me carry these in and I will come back to escort you inside like a lady should be," Roland said with a wink. He tried to make light of it, but what he really meant was, don't get up until I can help you.

  They didn't discuss the spring of 1912 while they ate. Patricia continued to encourage Roland to befriend Aneska. She filled him in on a few other young women in town who, as far as she knew, were single.

  Roland told her about some of the new projects going on in town, most notably, the splash pad going in behind the bandstand.

  "What say you go relax in the parlor while I tidy up in here?" Roland said. He phrased it as a question, but they both understood it to be an instruction.

  When Roland joined her in the parlor, Patricia had her journal in her lap. He set the tray he was carrying on the coffee table and poured her a cup of tea.

  "It's very hot, so you had better let it sit a while," he warned her.

  Satisfied that Patricia was comfortable, Roland sat across from her and gestured to her book.

  Without a word, she opened her journal.

  Patricia's Journal—Saturday, July 13, 1912

  It was worse than I feared. Hell rose up from the depths of Hades, and the breath of Satan burns so. Many more from town were taken, my friend Tami among them.

  "The fire that burned Tami's house had spread. The house next door was empty, but there was a tavern next to that, and believe it or not, the tavern did a brisk business that night. At least until the fire."

  "Talk about dying to get a drink," Roland said.

  Patricia nodded. "That is exactly the way I thought of it then."

  "Ten men came running from that building. The first six were taken. The other four managed to run off. One man chose to stay in the tavern. We could see him through the window. Silhouetted against the glass, the fire burned bright behind him. He feared death by fire less than death by demon. I think the smoke took him long before the flames. He disappeared from the window, but didn't cry out."

  "So you were certain there were at least six of them," Roland said.

  "Seven," Patricia corrected. "The bald monster did not join them. He walked into town a bit later, just as casual as you please, and stood on the street right in front of Auntie's door dressed in that same odd attire
."

  "Did it speak?" Roland asked.

  "Not like you and I are speaking now. We could hear it inside our head, but not with our ears. It seemed to know that Bernhard was the biggest threat in town.

  "Do you know what that little man did next?" she said with a giggle.

  Roland shrugged.

  "He began to sing. I don't know the song. He sang it in German. I gathered it was a happy song from the melody. The thing was furious. Somehow, Bernhard knew that if he concentrated on singing, it could not get into his head.

  "I laughed while he sang. I think the demon became further infuriated by my laughter. That was when we heard the front door. At first, I thought one of them had entered the house. I grabbed one of Bernhard's fire bottles, and rushed to the door."

  Patricia shuddered and raised her hands to cover her face. Roland reached across and put his hand on her shoulder.

  "Auntie?" he asked.

  She nodded through her sobs. Roland squeezed her shoulder to let her know he was there for her.

  "The rain moved out hours ago. Would you like to walk a bit?" he said.

  Her hands still over her face, she nodded. Roland retrieved a box of tissues from the end table and placed one in her hand. She dabbed her eyes, tucked the tissue in the pocket of her sweater and extended her hand.

  "Doctor's orders be damned," she said, and got up from her chair.

  Chapter 60

  Roland walked along in silence as Patricia recounted that nights events. He had grown to fear her words but found himself powerless to resist their lure.

  Before either of us could stop her, Auntie walked through the door as though she were going out to greet an old friend.

  "Auntie," I screamed. But she didn't hear me. That thing had her in a spell. She walked right to it. It took her right there while we watched. The thing ripped open her dress.