The Devil's Laughter

by William W. Johnstone

  Link drove away before Gerard could say a word. Really, the chief deputy thought, what was there to say? Link was right. Problem was, did he have too much lawman in him to do what he knew in his heart was the only way to win this fight?

  Gerard didn’t know the answer to that. But he did know this: He didn’t have much time in which to find out.

  With a hundred people working, it didn’t take that long to clean up the second-floor office part of the old plant and make it, if not luxurious, at least livable.

  The bottom part of the main building was left untouched.

  Judges Britton and Jackson, along with Lynette, were having a drink in their new quarters when they heard a man scream in anguish. Since no one was being tortured at the time, the trio jumped to their feet and ran to the railing, looking down at the ground floor.

  “He’s killed my boy!” Nelson Marshall screamed, looking up at the coven leaders. “Link Donovan has killed my boy. And the Johnson girl is dead, too.”

  “Who told you this?” Lynette yelled.

  “I did, your worship,” Waldo Brown said, stepping out of the shadows. “I come up on these teenagers, all bloody and banged up. They told me what happened. I drove out to see. Bob Marshall’s head was nearabouts shot off, and the Johnson girl had been tossed through the windshield. She was up in a tree, a broke-off branch run clear through her.”

  “Someone see to Nelson,” Judge Britton said. “Take him home and stay with him. Waldo, where are the bodies?”

  “Phil, from the undertaker’s. I called him, and he come out and got them.”

  Lynette, her husband, and Britton looked at each other, a silent agreement being reached. Lynette put it into words. “Link Donovan!” she shouted, and the ground floor became silent. “Link Donovan dies tonight.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Sheriff Ray Ingalls spoke from an open doorway. He was holding a submachine gun. “You’re all under arrest.”

  “Oh, my,” Lynette said, with a smile curving her grotesquely painted lips. “And how do you propose to do that, Sheriff?”

  Ray didn’t see the man coming up behind him. The coven member was smiling.

  * * *

  Using a pay phone, Link called the religious leaders and told them to either leave town or get out to his place or Gerard’s home. “I think the crap is going to hit the fan this night. I think you’d probably be better off at Gerard’s. It’s me they want. Whichever way you choose, good luck.” He hung up and headed for his house.

  He didn’t pull any punches when he walked in the front door. Link laid his walkie-talkie on a coffee table, gathered the group around him, and said, “If you stay here with me, any of you, you’re probably going to die. I don’t know if you can make it out of this parish, but I think your only chance is to try. I – ” His walkie-talkie crackled.

  “Link,” Gerard said. “Somebody just blew the bridge east of us. And Tom reports a lot of shifting around of suspected coven members. You want to add it up?”

  Link keyed the talk button. “They’ve sealed us in.”

  “That’s the way I see it.”

  “Good luck.”

  “That all you have to say?”

  “What else do you want me to say? I told you how to put an end to this thing several days ago.” He turned off the walkie-talkie to conserve its batteries and carefully placed it back on the table. “Somebody start making a big pot of soup and a whole bunch of sandwiches. Enough to last for a day or two at least. By that time it’ll be over. One way or the other. Paul, you get up to your quarters and keep your eyes open. I’ve got some work to do out in the woods. Anne, are any of the other critters healed enough to be cut free?”

  “A few more, yes.”

  “Get them ready to be turned loose, please. But we’ll cut them free off of my land. In a couple of hours, it’s going to be very unsafe on Donovan property.”

  Link, as nearly everyone who ever met him would attest to, did not think like other people. He tried, in one way or another, to prepare for any eventuality that might befall him. On this day, he went outside and checked his generators. He hit the bypass switch and cranked the huge generator that would power the house in case of electrical failure. It roared into life and Link let it run for a few minutes before shutting it down. He returned the house to standard power. Then he went to his second generator and checked it out. It sprang instantly into life, as if grateful to finally be put into service. It had one function and one function only. It was there solely to rather lethally discourage unwelcome visitors. He ran the electric start line into the house, to the back porch, then went outside and connected what looked very much like jumper cable clamps onto the insulators.

  “So come on, gang,” Link muttered. “I have quite a surprise waiting for you.” Then he went into the house and started filling a rucksack with blocks of what some people have said looked like Silly Putty.

  “What is that stuff, Mr. Link?” Betsy asked.

  “Stuff that is going to make us a lot safer in this house, Betsy.”

  “Are the bad people going to attack us tonight?” the girl asked.

  “Yes, I think they are, honey.” Link selected detonators of various types. Some he could detonate from the house, others would be attached to trip wires. “And there will be a lot of noise and shooting and loud explosions. But you and your brother and your mom are going to be just fine. I promise you.”

  “Do you ever break promises, Mr. Link?” she asked solemnly.

  “Never, Betsy. You and your brother want to help me with something?”

  “Sure!”

  “See those sacks of rusty nails and ball bearings I brought in from the barn?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, I’ve got a big sack of tin cans I’m going to bring up from the basement. I want you and Billy to fill each can a quarter full of nails and ball bearings. It would really be a big help to me.”

  “We’ll sure do it,” she said brightly.

  “Good girl.” He kissed her on the cheek and she giggled.

  Link went to work. He had had the best teachers in the world not too many years back, but he had also been experimenting with explosives since he was a child. He knew what to do and he did it quickly.

  The homemade bombs he was constructing were terrible things. He’d personally witnessed what one of them could do. Pushed by several pounds of C-4, the nails and ball bearings would literally rip the flesh from the blast victims.

  “Some people coming up the drive, Mr. Link,” Billy called from his position on the front porch. “It’s Deputy Tom and several others.”

  Tom Halbert, Toby Belenger, and Father Lattier.

  “Any word from Ray?” Link asked.

  “Nothing,” Tom said. “No sign of him or his unit. And the town has just shut down. The stores are closed and the streets deserted. People have gone home and closed and locked their doors. You try to use the phone and you get a recorded message saying that service has been temporarily disrupted. They’re sorry for any inconvenience and service will be restored as quickly as possible. We’re cut off, aren’t we, Link?”

  “Looks that way.” He glanced at Father Lattier. “Where’s Mark?”

  “He refused to leave the rectory. He said someone has to stay and tend to the needs of those who might wander in, seeking help and comfort.”

  “Scratch one priest,” Link said bluntly, and returned to his making of bombs. He would not arm them until he was away from the house and in the woods.

  “Where is your armory, Link?” Toby asked.

  “Come on, I’ll show you,” Anne said.

  The minister selected a Colt AR-15, made sure it was unloaded, and sat down to familiarize himself with the weapon.

  “His kids are all grown and moved away,” Father Lattier whispered to Link. Toby is basically a very good man. Korean War veteran, I believe. Marine. I understand he was highly decorated for bravery.“

  Link called, “That’s a good weapon you chose. You’ve
seen combat, Toby?”

  “Korea. It sickened me. I killed so many men over there. The North Koreans and the Chinese just kept coming at us, blowing bugles. I killed two hundred ... three hundred men in one night. I swore I’d never again raise the hand of violence. I was wrong. I’ll kill that many more tonight if those godless Satan worshipers attack.”

  Link smiled. He felt that the man would stand up to anything that might come at him. And when one was dealing with the devil, anything was certainly possible.

  “It’s going to rain tonight,” Link said. “That’s good.” He told them about the fence. “The attackers will be soaking wet when they try the fence. It should be an interesting sight to behold, don’t you think?”

  Father Lattier looked at him. “I am glad you are on our side, Link. You certainly know what to do in a bad situation.”

  “I just never paid much attention to the babblings of liberals, that’s all,” Link replied. “Most of them are out of touch with reality. I wasn’t in favor of the war in Vietnam, but I went and did my thing and was lucky enough to come back. I learned a lot over there. I learned a lot more working for the Company. But it all boils down to mental attitude. And it’s quite obvious to me that those of us who are gathering here and out at Gerard’s place and the deputy’s homes share the same feelings about survival. You’ll use a gun this night, Father?”

  “Oh, yes. Count on it.”

  “Doesn’t that go against the Scriptures?”

  The old priest smiled. “It doesn’t say a thing in there about a man not being able to protect his ass.”

  Chapter 6

  Link worked all through the afternoon, planting his bombs in the woods, working closer and closer to the house. At the very edge of his property, he rigged perimeter bangers. These would be the first warning that people had entered his woods and would alert those in the house to get ready.

  Link was back in the house just before darkness fell. He showered and changed clothes and ate a bowl of fresh soup. Both Suzanne Perrin and Guy Banks were badly frightened and neither were making any attempts to hide it.

  “When the shit starts,” Link told them, “take my critters down to the basement and keep them calm. Anne has begun tranquilizing them to help out. And don’t worry about not being able to use a gun. It’ll be a great relief to me just knowing that my critters are being looked after.”

  He held up something that looked very much like a TV remote control box. Link said, “If by chance this falls out of my pocket, don’t pick it up. Call me immediately. This is a remote control firing device. Some of those unpleasant surprises I left out in the woods – most of them close to the cleared area – can be detonated from inside the house. Now come on, help me round up the dogs and cats, and let’s get them secured in the basement.”

  That done, Anne joined him on the darkened front porch. “I tranquilized those injured animals, Link. Most of them will sleep right through the night.”

  “We better not,” Link said quietly. “Or we’ll sleep forever.”

  * * *

  Gerard looked at the phone as it jangled for the second time. “Maybe they got it fixed,” he said. Deep in his guts, he knew that was not true. He answered the phone.

  A burbling, painful gasping filled his head. Then a very cultured voice said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to translate for your good sheriff, Mr. Lucas. You see, he can no longer speak coherently. We cut out his tongue.”

  Gerard leaned against the table for support. He and Ray and Link went all the way back to infancy together. “I should have listened to Link,” he finally replied.

  “Ah, yes. Your friend, that civilized killer. You like that description of him? I thought of that myself.”

  “Judge Britton,” Gerard said.

  “How astute of you. Now then, Chief Deputy, I am going to tell you how this matter is to be resolved. You have but two choices. Join us or die. I will give you one hour to decide. One hour, sir.” The connection was broken.

  * * *

  “It’s close to two hundred and forty miles any way we cut it,” Jeff Miller said to Dennis.

  “Three hours max,” was Dennis’s reply. “You sure you want to do this, Jeff? It’s our jobs, probably.”

  “It was your idea. You backin’ out?”

  “Let’s roll.”

  * * *

  “Take your job and go to hell,” Jimmy Hughes told the man over the phone. He had gotten as far as just east of Dallas before pulling over. He just couldn’t leave his friends behind. No matter that they had insisted he go. He wasn’t going to do it.

  “You stupid nigger!” the man told him. “You don’t have any idea what this means.”

  “I know it means this is nationwide,” Jimmy replied.

  “You’re one dead nigger, boy.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” Jimmy hung up. Back in his car, he studied a road map. They would expect him to take I-20 back and then cut south a few miles out of Shreveport. So what he’d do is to drop south about twenty miles and then cut east, staying on less traveled roads and maintaining the speed limit. It was a good two hundred thirty or forty miles. If he could average fifty miles an hour, he’d be back in the parish in five hours, with any kind of luck.

  He took his pistol out of the glove box and laid it on the seat beside him. He wasn’t going to be stopped this night.

  “Link!” Tom called. “Gerard wants you on the radio. It’s something about Sheriff Ingalls.”

  Link listened, his face growing tight and his eyes mean. “That’s ten-four, Gerard,” he said. “Surrender never crossed my mind, either.” He hung the mike back on the clip in Tom’s car.

  “Cut his tongue out?” Tom said, his face mirroring his inner horror.

  “That’s what Britton said. Gerard thinks he was telling the truth. Goddamnit!” Link suddenly yelled, and pounded his fists on the top of the car. “Law and order, law and order. Ever since Ray was a kid, that’s all he wanted to be. A cop. Serve the public and protect the innocent. The finest sheriff this parish ever had, in my memory. And his beliefs and ideals got him tortured and probably killed.” He walked away to stand by a huge tree. Tom left him alone and went back into the house to tell the others.

  “I hope Link doesn’t take Britton or Jackson or any of the others alive,” Suzanne said. “I like Link, but he scares me.”

  “He never bothered a living soul after he returned,” Father Lattier said. “He minded his own business and tended to sick and hurt animals. Which is more than I can say for ninety percent of the others living in this town. I can’t think of another person I would want on my side in this fight.”

  “Lights turning in at the gate!” Paul yelled from his garage apartment. “Link’s on his way down there. I think it’s Father Palombo.”

  Link opened the gates and waved the priest in. There was a strange expression on the man’s face. Link could see from the dashboard lights that he kept cutting his eyes first left and then right. And with both hands on the wheel, he had his thumbs pointed toward the rear. Link took his .45 from leather and jacked back the hammer. He thought he just might know what the priest was trying to silently tell him. Link walked up to the car and emptied his pistol into the back seat as Mark Palombo bailed out and hit the ground.

  When the priest jumped out, the interior light came on. Link could see the bloody bodies of two men, one on the floorboards, the other sprawled on the back seat. He shoved a fresh clip in his .45 and stuck it back into leather.

  The young priest got up and brushed himself off. A very light rain was beginning to fall. “They waylaid me at the rectory. Shoved a gun in my face. They said if I didn’t do what I was told, they would do the most . . . disgusting and perverted acts to me.”

  “I know these two, Mark. They were disgusting and perverted long before they ever started serving the devil. Don’t let it bother you.” He dragged the bodies out of the back seat and dumped them in a ditch across the blacktop. “Now go meet your master, buttholes,”
he told the .45 caliber perforated bodies.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Link,” the young priest said. “I’m grateful to you. It’s just that I don’t understand how you can be so kind and generous and caring for animals, and be so cold toward human beings.”

  Link had gone over this so many times with so many people he had his speech committed to memory. “Because animals can’t help being what they are, Mark. Humans can. It’s just that simple.”

  “I think you hide your true emotions and I also think that you are a terribly complex person, Link.”

  “Really? Well, we’ll have to delve into that someday, Father. But for right now, all I am is wet. Let’s head on up to the house.”

  * * *

  In the basement of the high school, a group of kids ranging in age from eight to sixteen had gathered.

  “I’m scared,” eight-year-old Bobby said. “And I’m hungry, too.”

  Sixteen-year-old Matthew put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “We’re all scared, Bobby. And hungry. We’ll get some food in a little bit. Right now, we got to make some plans.” He looked around him at the group. About fifty kids out of the whole damn town, he thought bitterly. This situation sucks.

  Matthew, like the others, had only a very hazy, foggy memory of the past few days. It was like he was waking up from a deep and troubled sleep. Three boys had been trying to rape Linda Chavez that afternoon. That was when Matthew had snapped out of his dreamlike condition. He’d grabbed a club off the ground and had started swinging. He knew he’d hurt one real bad and had probably broken the jaw of another one. The third kid had taken off.

  Matthew and Linda had met Jerry, the fifteen-year-old, just wandering around the streets, scared and very unsure about just what was going on.

  The trio had hooked up with Val and Chuck and Leslie and Larry. They had found little Bobby and Patricia, both of them crying and scared. They wandered toward the school complex and joined half a dozen more kids. One of them knew where another bunch of kids were hiding out, and the ranks began to swell.