Rockinghorse

by William W. Johnstone

  “And the beasts we saw that night? They don’t exist, either?”

  “We were boys, Carl. Scared little boys camping out alone for the first time. Our imaginations ran wild, that’s all.”

  “Where are the Pines, sir?” Austin asked.

  “In the woods directly behind the Bowers Plantation.”

  “I do not believe any of this is happening,” Al said. “We are all grown, mature men. There is a logical explanation for what is occurring.”

  “Then what is it?” Carl challenged.

  “I don’t know,” his friend replied sourly.

  “I’m going to kick in the goddamned door to a house,” Carl said. “I am going to find out why these people refuse to answer our knocks.”

  “Ah, Captain,” Davis said. “That’s just a, ah, little bit on the illegal side, sir.”

  The captain visually visited the patrolman with a look guaranteed to freeze water.

  “Lead on, Commander,” Davis said. “Where you go, I follow”

  They didn’t have to kick in the door of the house. It was unlocked. Carl reached in, found the light switch, and flipped on the lights. “Hello!” he called. “This is the Georgia Highway Patrol. Anybody home?”

  “What other Highway Patrol would it be?” Al asked, smiling. “Montana?”

  “Stuff it, Pookie,” Carl said.

  “Pookie?” Hunt and Scott both said.

  “That was his nickname in grade school,” Carl told them. He looked at his lifelong friend. “Right, Pookie?”

  “I’ll get you for this, Carl,” Al said. “I’ll get you. I promise.”

  “Pookie?” his two patrolmen again said.

  “If either of you ever repeat that name aloud,” Al warned them. “I swear to you both, you will spend the next fifteen years regretting you ever heard my name.”

  Both men grinned. “Yes, Pookie!” they said.

  Al ground his teeth together and said, “I’ll get you, Carl. I’ll get you.” He cut his eyes to the hall of the house and all play-anger at his friend was forgotten. “Look at that,” he said, pointing.

  A body lay stretched out on the hall floor.

  “Check it out,” Al told his men.

  “He’s alive, sir,” Scott said. “All vital signs are OK. But I can’t rouse him.”

  Hunt stepped out of a bedroom. “Two kids in here, sir. They seem to be in some sort of coma.”

  “Davis, Austin,” Carl said. “Take the next house.

  Come on, Al. Let’s check the one just north of here.”

  “Try the phones,” Al called over his shoulder.

  “Yes, sir,” Hunt said. And under his breath, “Pookie.”

  Carl and Al found an entire family, man and wife, three kids, and the parents of one of the spouses, all in bed, unconscious, but breathing steadily, color good, pulse normal, pupils of the eyes responding to light.

  “Weird,” Carl said.

  Al picked up the nearest phone. It was dead.

  The troopers reported that all the phones thus far checked were dead.

  Captain looked at captain. “Weirder,” Al said.

  The men checked one entire block of residential homes, both sides. Some houses were empty, but most held people. All unconscious. No phones worked.

  “Hunt, Scott,” Al said. “You two take the block just west of here. Davis, Austin, take the block east of us. Me and Carl’ll keep working our way north. Let’s meet back here in thirty minutes. Take off. And be careful.”

  * * *

  All those in the mansion could sense they had scored a very important victory. But George, inspecting his swollen and cut knuckles, put it vocally.

  “I don’t know what we’ve won! I don’t even know what it is those people represent, or why they want us.”

  “Evil,” Jackie said. “We’re fighting evil.”

  “But why us?” Harry asked. He was sitting up, his arm in a sling.

  “I can’t answer that,” the girl said.

  “I don’t know if there is an answer that anyone of us would understand,” her brother added.

  “Now you’ve really messed up!” Ira’s scream shattered the quiet. “All bets are off. All of you are going to die.”

  “He knows he’s losing,” Kyle said.

  “I wish he’d hurry up and do it,” Tracy said.

  “Look up on the landing!” Ira shouted.

  None had to look. They knew what they would find.

  The familiar whinny of the rocking horse drifted down the curving steps.

  31

  The Georgia State Troopers, to a man, all stood in awe as the sun came up. Kipling came to the mind of one of them. The Bible came to the mind of another. One of them said a silent prayer. Another crossed himself. Yet another thought it would be a hell of a day to go fishin’.

  It was the most glorious sunrise any of them could ever remember witnessing.

  Suddenly, none of them were tired. The grainy feeling left their eyes.

  They all heard the sounds of an approaching vehicle.

  “That’s a Sheriff’s Department car,” Al said. “Maybe now we’ll get some answers.”

  “B. C. Williams,” Carl said. “Good solid man.”

  The chief deputy sheriff of Edmund County stopped his car and stepped out. “I hope to God you boys can tell me what the hell is goin’ on around this place,” he said.

  “We were hopin’ you could tell us,” Al said.

  “Your radios conk out?” B. C. asked.

  “Yes. And we can’t back our cars up or turn them around,” Carl said.

  B. C. leaned up against his car and filled one side of his mouth with chewing tobacco. He chewed for a moment, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “This is weird enough to make a hen quit layin’, you know that?”

  “That is one way of putting it,” Al replied.

  B. C. was known statewide for his homespun sayings. “Any of y’all seen the sheriff?”

  The troopers shook their heads.

  “I can’t turn my car around, either, boys,” B. C. said.

  “When did you try?” Al asked.

  “ ’Bout five miles down the road. I tell you what, boys. I ’bout had me an accident in my shorts when I tried to back up and turn around.”

  The highway cops knew that feeling very well.

  “How come there ain’t nobody stirrin’ around in this town?” B. C. asked.

  Carl briefed the chief deputy.

  B. C. nodded his head. “You ever get the feeling you’d just like to go back home, pull the covers up over your head, and pretend something bad just didn’t happen?”

  They all knew that feeling, too.

  “How come you were heading this way so late at night, B. C.?” Al asked.

  “Tuesdays,”B. C. replied.

  The highway cops glanced at each other. B. C. picked up on the looks and smiled. “Y’all put it together, too, huh?”

  “Yes,” Carl said. “We were heading up toward the Bowers’ Plantation house, B. C. Care to come with us?”

  “Seein’ as how my car won’t go but in one direction,” the deputy drawled. “I don’t see I got much choice in the matter. Lead on.”

  * * *

  Jackie was awakened by a voice whispering in her head. “Evil cannot create, Jackie. It can only repeat. When the evil has fully sated its gluttonous appetite, when it has caused you all enough pain, the evil becomes bored, and can be driven away. Evil cannot be killed, Jackie. But it can be temporarily beaten.”

  The voice faded.

  Jackie cut her eyes, looking for Johnny. He nodded his head.

  Jackie looked at her wristwatch. Seven o’clock. She waved for her brother to follow her.

  In the hall, she whispered, “You heard that voice?”

  “Yeah. But what does it mean?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too. Come on.”

  But before the kids could walk down the hall to the ki
tchen, the sounds of several cars pulling into the drive stopped them. They turned and went into the center room of the mansion, looking out the window.

  David stood looking out a window. He turned and smiled at the brother and sister. “Help has arrived, kids.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Carl said, his eyes taking in the charred lump of the old man; the broken windows of the mansion; the bodies that littered the lawn. He flipped on his speaker.

  “Kyle! You in there, Kyle?”

  Kyle came to the door, looked out, then stepped onto the porch.

  “Christ!” Hunt said to Scott. “He’s got a spear in his hand.”

  “Come on in, Captain,” Kyle called. “But get ready for the shock of your life.”

  * * *

  “Sheriff Pugh is dead?” B. C. asked. “You killed him?” He looked at Lucas.

  “And I killed Lancer last night,” Kyle said. “His body is out back. Or at least it was.”

  Captain Denning walked to the rear of the house and looked out. Lancer’s body was lying where Kyle had tossed it. He looked at Kyle. “Have you seen O’Brian or Watson?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I’ve got three out, too,” Al said. Quickly he explained what he and Carl had put together.

  “666,” David said. “The Mark of the Beast.”

  “You used a chain saw on some men last night?” Al asked Lucas.

  “Look in the front room,” Lucas said. “The one with the boarded-up doors.”

  All the highway cops looked. A couple wished they had not.

  “Board it back up,” Carl ordered his men.

  “Gladly,” Davis said.

  That done, Captain Denning asked Kyle, “All right, Kyle. Where do we stand?”

  The rocking horse laughed and whinnied on the landing above them.

  “What in the hell was that?” Captain Johnson asked, looking around him.

  “Get a firm grip on your emotions, Captain,” Lucas told the man. “ ’Cause you’re about to hear the damnest story you’ve ever hard.”

  “I knew I should have stayed in the Navy,” B. C. said.

  * * *

  The highway cops sat with their mouths hanging open as first Kyle, then Lucas, then Louisa, and finally David finished the story.

  When David told of the professors’ efforts to call forth the Dark Gods, B. C. swallowed his chewing tobacco and had to leave the room.

  Captain Denning pulled his pistol from leather, checked the loads, and stood up. Then, realizing his gun was useless, he reholstered the weapon. “Give me that spear,” he told Kyle. Kyle handed it to him. “I want to see this damned rocking horse.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t, Captain,” Kyle said.

  Denning ignored that and walked toward the curving stairs. Al took a spear from George and followed his friend.

  “I feel like a flipping idiot!” Al said. “And I don’t believe any of what I just heard.”

  Carl said nothing as he climbed the steps. Halfway up, he realized the horse’s eyes were moving, following him as he climbed. “Look at the eyes,” he told Al.

  “It’s a trick of some sort. I’m not denying these folks were attacked and defended themselves. But the rest of what we were just told is ridiculous.”

  The men stood on the landing and looked at the hobbyhorse, looking at them. The horse rocked and whinnied and laughed at the men.

  Al swore and kicked the horse on the rump with a boot. The horse spun around and bit the captain on the leg, drawing blood and tearing his trousers.

  Al grabbed his bleeding leg and stared at the wooden horse, horror in his eyes.

  Carl jabbed at the horse with his spear. The horse howled and charged the man, knocking him down the stairs. Carl grabbed a railing and held on. He watched as Al backed slowly off the landing, surrendering the initial round to the horse. He helped his friend to his feet and the two of them hurriedly went down the stairs.

  The horse’s taunting laughter followed them.

  Trooper Hunt was standing in front of a door that led to the ground level of the mansion. He could smell the foulness that emanated from the floor below

  “Go on,” a voice filled his head. “Open the door. What’s the matter? Are you afraid?”

  Hunt looked around him for the source of the voice. He could see nothing. He put his hand on the door knob, then hesitated.

  “Help me, honey,” his wife’s voice filled his head. “Help me. They’re hurting me. Please, honey. Help me.”

  He jerked open the door.

  “No!” Jan screamed to his back.

  Hunt felt himself being sucked into a raging vortex. His body spun wildly in the air. His clothing was shredded on his body until he was naked. Wild laughter filled his head. Then, unconscious, he fell heavily to the ground-level floor.

  The door slammed behind him.

  The newly arrived highway cops beat at the door and slammed their shoulders against the unyielding wood.

  They stopped their frantic poundings as the house took a deep breath. They looked around them, utter disbelief in their eyes. The house emitted what sounded like a belching, chewing sound. The awful cadence of bones crunching came to the horrified men standing by the door.

  “What in God’s name is going on?” Captain Johnson screamed the question.

  “I think,” Lucas said. He cleared his throat. “I think the house is . . . eating your man, Captain.”

  The crunching continued. It stopped. The house sighed contentedly. The rocking horse laughed. The house belched. A window of the house cracked with a pop. Hunt’s pistol, handcuffs, belt buckle, loose change, and badge were puked up from the ground level. They lay shining in the bright sun, slick with blood.

  32

  Jackie whispered to Johnny, “The house is playing with us.”

  “I know,” the boy replied. “And it’s getting stronger, too.”

  “But those outside are getting weaker.”

  “The house feels it’s forever,” the boy said. “I think. . . I think the house feels it can always get other people to follow it. That sounds stupid. But I don’t know any other way to put it.”

  “What are you kids whispering about?” Lucas asked.

  The house sighed.

  Jackie found a notepad and a pencil and went to her dad’s side. She wrote: The house must be destroyed. Don’t say your reply aloud. Write it down on this paper.

  The house began breathing heavily, as if frustrated.

  How? Lucas wrote.

  Those not on guard gathered around in silence, watching and reading.

  A thumping sound came to those grouped on the second level. They looked up. The rocking horse was moving awkwardly down the steps, its eyes glaring with hate.

  Stop that horse! Jackie wrote.

  Several of the adults turned around.

  “No!” Johnny cried. He grabbed Peter’s hand and jerked the boys toward the steps.

  The boys stood on the steps, facing the advancing rocking horse. The horse stopped, seemingly unsure of its next move. Behind the horse, a glow appeared, shining brightly. The horse spun around. It howled in anger.

  But it stopped its advance.

  “What is that glow?” Trooper Austin said, his eyes fixed on the sparkling glow that seemed to pulse with life.

  “One of the Woods’ Children,” Jackie said. “Probably Randolph.”

  “Ain’t y’all afraid of that thing?” B. C. asked.

  “No,” Jackie said with a smile. Then it came to her; she knew why the horse had stopped. “I know how to win. We can win.”

  The house took the longest breath any of them had ever heard it take.

  “Stand firm, Johnny, Peter!” Jackie said. “Don’t let the horse past you. It can’t hurt you!”

  The house shook with locked-in fury. Chairs and sofas suddenly tumbled and toppled over. Chandeliers tore from their ceiling mounts and fell crashing to the floor.

  The rocking horse snarled and turned around, facing the boys. It
began awkwardly thumping down the steps.

  Johnny pointed a finger at the advancing horse. “You . . . stop!”

  The horse stopped.

  Jackie took Carla’s hand and Carla took Betty’s hand and Betty took Ruth’s hand. They walked toward the bottom of the stairs.

  The rocking horse suddenly became very nervous. Its tail twitched and its eyes flashed, rolling from side to side.

  The house let out a long moan.

  Louisa said, “The children can’t be harmed by the evil of the house and horse.”

  “Obviously,” Mark said. “But why?”

  “The Woods’ Children have already paid that price,” the woman said. “Normal children can be bad—according to adult standards—but normal children have not yet been corrupted by the world; so they don’t know evil.”

  “Evil can only take that which is in a person to use against others,” David said. “So if the children have no inherent evil, the source of any present evil is powerless against them.”

  “The children can’t be hurt,” B. C. said. “But that still leaves us.” He shifted his wad of chewing tobacco to the other side of his mouth and looked around for a place to spit. He walked to an open window and puckered up to spit. He spat everything onto the ground at the sight that greeted him.

  The pale face of Burt Simmons was looking through the open window.

  And the window was a good ten feet off the ground.

  * * *

  “Would you repeat that, Colonel?” Governor Rovere asked.

  “I said, sir, we have twelve troopers missing and unaccounted for.”

  “Couldn’t be on special assignment, could they?” the governor asked.

  Colonel Rodman gritted his teeth. Only a politician would ask the head of a state police force a question like that. “No, sir,” the colonel replied respectfully. “I would have that information available to me, sir.”

  “Oh, yes. Right. Well . . . what do you intend doing about this, Colonel?”

  Rodman stared at the wall of his office for a few seconds. He took a deep breath and said, “Sir, I am going to launch a full-scale investigation into this matter immediately.”

  “That’s a very good idea, Colonel,” the governor said. “Please keep me informed. Oh, and, ah, Colonel?”

  “Yes, sir?”