by Chuck Buda
James felt the pressure building in his own skull. His eyes bulged and he squeezed his lids shut to attempt to stave off the attack. He felt his feet lift off the floor. As he hovered in place, James risked his eyes to see what Preacher was doing.
Preacher was fully engulfed in flames. His head was torqued back and waves of dust or particles of some sort flew across the room, into Preacher’s opened mouth. James strained to see what was happening when he realized Preacher was sucking the life force out of the townsfolk. Without eyes or hands, the crowd was held captive, unable to flee or fend off the demonic powers.
James lifted higher off the floor. The people around him drifted below his line of sight. He felt his blood boiling in his veins. For the first time in his life, James thought he had finally reached the end. Death had come to take him. It scared him and he didn’t want to die. There was so much more he needed to do before his time was up. And he didn’t want things to end without making amends with his mother. He worried about Carson. What would happen to his little friend, the only person in the world who stuck by James’ side no matter what happened? James hoped Carson would die quickly if they were all to die today. He couldn’t bear to think of Carson suffering through life without family to take care of him. Or to have to live through more loved ones dying. His mother, then James and Sarah? It was too much for the boy to go through.
James fought as long and hard as he could. The life was draining from his body. He grew weaker, tired. Darkness crept in around his vision, circling him and narrowing his world to nothingness. James made a last second push to focus his mind and every fiber in his body to block off the demonic siphoning.
As the blackness thickened, James apologized over and over to his mother and Carson. He had failed them.
Chapter 46
The Marshal had been content to wait outside during the memorial service. He had stood on line for a while to enter the chapel. As the crowd grew, Marshal Holder allowed folks to get ahead of him. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, especially with the women and elder citizens. But it was more of a conscious decision to remain in the shadows. Marshal Holder was intent on monitoring things in case they spiraled out of control. Like his mama had always told him, best not to be seen when you ain’t wanted around.
He lit a cigar and puffed away on the porch of the church. When the room filled, James had shut the door. The Marshal became instantly irritated by getting shut out of the service. Then he realized it was all for the best. He could continue to enjoy his smoke and relax, with just one ear on the proceedings inside.
The streets were empty. The Marshal hadn’t seen all the townsfolk enter the chapel, but a large portion of them had shown up for the unknown Miss Lark. He found it odd so many people who really knew nothing about Miss Lark would bother to attend the ceremony. They probably wanted to pay respects since the murder had been so tragic and uncharacteristic of Dodge. Sure, were fights and thieving. But the Marshal wasn’t aware of such a brutal and calculated crime as the killing of the young lady. He figured that’s what brought folks out of their homes on this evening.
As he enjoyed a deep draw on the cigar, Marshal Holder heard a collective gasp. It grabbed his attention so he leaned against the door to listen for any trouble. The muffled sounds of Preacher speaking from the altar echoed to the porch. He couldn’t understand the specific words which were being spoken, but he could tell the pacing was very slow, deliberate even. He shook his head for the Preacher’s over-dramatic presentation.
Another gasp ran through the chapel. The Marshal yanked the cigar from his lips and tossed it into the street. One gasp could’ve been a lady fainting. Two gasps meant trouble. He pulled the latch down on the door but it wouldn’t budge. He cussed under his breath that the shouldn’t have shut the door if the place was filled beyond capacity. What if a fire broke out? How would folks escape the danger if they were all stuck inside, jammed wall to wall? He cussed again under his breath and threw his big shoulder into the heavy door.
It swung open, hitting a few people in the back. The Marshal was about to apologize for the forceful entry when he smelled smoke. His eyes darted to the front of the chapel. Preacher seemed to be losing himself in his drama and the crowd was mesmerized by his performance. Flames shot out of Preacher’s hand and worked their way onto the altar. Marshal Holder tried to move into action, regardless of the people he had to walk over or through.
He glanced to his immediate right, catching sight of the boy, Carson, who sat in the last pew. The rest of the chapel was on their feet. Not Carson. He sat with a stunned look on his face. The Marshal was about to rush over to comfort him when a burst of energy flashed across the chapel. Some people screamed while others remained frozen in place. A few people lit on fire. Their hands shook in front of their faces as their skins burned up and dripped off like candle wax.
Marshal Holder saw James making his way to the front. If he thought the situation was bad to begin with, it just got a whole lot nastier with James heading to Preacher. The inevitable showdown had arrived and Marshal had to make sure he got within spitting distance before more people got hurt.
As he tossed people out of his way, Marshal Holder realized he should be much more frightened than he was. Folks were on fire and losing eyeballs with no Godly explanation for it. The whole room was a bundle of chaos and he didn’t know how it started or exactly how to end it. But he was going to do his best to stop it from becoming worse.
James lifted off the floor, floating above the crowd. The Marshal needed to intervene quickly. The way to the front was blocked. And Preacher was clearly causing the destruction. His whole being lit on fire and he appeared to absorb air from the townsfolk’s bodies. Marshal Holder drew his six shooter. He cocked the hammer and aimed at Preacher.
He fired his gun. The bullet struck Preacher square in the chest. Instead of blood, flames shot out of his torso, enclosing the wound with fire. The Marshal was stunned. Preacher was just a man. How could the bullet have no effect on him? He fired the rest of the shots. Each bullet ripped through a different part of Preacher’s body. And each time, flames shot out of the gaping hole too fill in where flesh had once been.
The Marshal holstered his gun and jumped forward. He stepped a man who had died. He was about to land on an older woman when she crumpled to the floor in front of him. He yelled out in horror when he saw the same hollowed out eye sockets he had seen on Miss Lark. The Marshal looked up to continue pursuing Preacher when a thunderbolt of fire ripped through his gut, throwing him over the crowd. He landed against the back wall, a good twenty feet behind where he had just stood. The shock of his predicament left him speechless. He scoured the room to see if anyone would come to his aid.
Then he looked down.
His innards were scalded and tossed around him like a burnt, old rope. The Marshal reached down to pick up his insides. He wanted to stuff them back inside the gaping wound. But they were still extremely hot from the fire ball. His hand burned up as soon as he grabbed a chunk of meat. The pain of the burn caused him to drop his stuffing on the floor. His eyes rolled around in the sockets as he wondered what had just happened. He thought to himself he had always guessed he would die on the job. But he had always envisioned a gun fight in the street. Or a bullet in the back from someone he had locked up.
He never imagined for a moment he would be torn apart by something he couldn’t even put into words. His mind immediately thought of James. His lips whispered as he tried to call out for the young man.
The Marshal stared at Preacher. His eyes no longer focused on the images in front of him. Marshal Kaden Holder was dead.
Chapter 47
Carson shook with fright. The noise and death around him overwhelmed his senses. He cried as he watched the people around him die horrific deaths.
James was swept into the air like a human kite. Carson jumped to his feet. He wanted to tug on James’ belt loop to bring him back down to the floor. He could tell James was hurting by the expressions
on his face. But the fire Preacher shot into Marshal Holder had kept Carson in place. He sat back down and then thought better of it. Carson climbed under the pews to hide from the trouble.
Carson wanted to get to James. He was too scared to attempt reaching his friend. He squeezed his eyes tight against the fire and heat. And he didn’t want to see any more exploding eyes. Carson wished Sarah would scoop him up and take him away from the church. He didn’t know where she was or if she was even alive at the moment. Carson decided to stick his head up briefly to search for her. If he found her then he would crawl to her arms for safety.
He lifted his eyes just above the wooden pew. It was hard to find Sarah with folks standing in the way and all the flames crackling around the room. He shifted his head to the side and caught a glimpse of Sarah. She was nearly in the same spot she had been the entire service. Carson heard her screaming for Preacher to put James down. Her face was crumpled up with fear and crying. Carson shouted for Sarah but she must not have heard him over the din.
He began crawling under the pews, in between legs and around dead bodies. Once he passed under the second set of pews, Carson became disoriented. He wasn’t sure if he was still heading in the right direction or not. He knew he should try to check on his position. If only he could find a safe spot to look. The burning bodies on the floor smelled like terrible garbage. Carson wrinkled his nose and held his breath as he was forced to climb over the corpses.
Sarah screamed again at Preacher. Carson looked up quickly to catch her crawling over bodies as well. She was working her way across the front of the altar to reach James. Preacher read her intent and focused his attention on her. He howled louder than anything Carson had ever heard. When he made the noise, Preacher’s head flamed out, revealing a white skull with fangs and blackened eyes. Carson peed himself. There had been no advanced warning for his bladder to hold on.
Preacher thrust his howling skull in Sarah’s direction, flinging her defenseless body over the pews into the far wall. The thunk of her head crashing into the unforgiving wood knocked Sarah out instantaneously. Carson hoped the injury hadn’t killed her. His crying escalated as he felt trapped and alone. With Sarah hurt and James spinning in the air, Carson had nobody to look after him. He imagined his mother running into the chapel to hold him. She would stroke his hair and kiss his forehead as she always used to when he was scared or hurt. He missed his mother. Carson wanted to forget any of this had ever happened and find himself waking up in bed next to his momma. Her warm skin against his and the smell of lavender in her hair. It made him feel calm and happy.
The pew in front of Carson splintered and cracked in two. Many of the folks who had attended the memorial service were no longer alive. A sea of burnt, black clothing littered the floor. The few who still lived were caught up in Preacher’s maelstrom. Their hands burning. Their eye sockets empty.
He glanced over his shoulder at James. His best friend in the whole world floated above the room in a speedy circle. Carson squinted to concentrate on James’ face. He wanted to know if James were still alive or aware of what was happening. His body was bent backwards in such a manner which made Carson think James would never be able to survive, let alone walk again.
He had to act now or there would be no hope for him. Carson looked around the floor for a weapon. Anything he can pick up and club Preacher over the head with. None of the mourners had brought guns with them. They had probably figured they wouldn’t need to be armed in church. Carson grabbed a splintered piece of one of the pews. The board was heavy and awkward. He knew it would be too hard for him to swing at Preacher. Besides, Preacher would see it coming as his small frame didn’t have the strength to swing it quickly.
Carson kept crawling toward Preacher, hoping to find something along the way. Nothing surfaced, and another body dropped behind him. Carson ignored the thump and hurried along the sea of dead to reach the altar. He made it to the front of the wooden stand, huddled below Preacher and his fiery destruction. For the first time, Carson took in the carnage. Blood and smoldering limbs were everywhere. The bodies had fallen so close together, they were stacked liked cords of wood, filling the whole chapel with death. Only two people remained standing. One was Gunderson, who shook and jittered. The other was another large man with missing teeth. His gums flapped up and down as his body convulsed under Preacher’s power.
Carson swallowed hard and spun to crawl under the altar. He grabbed Preacher’s leg and sunk his teeth into the hard shin bone. He felt his teeth dig through the pants and into muscle and bone. Blood filled his mouth, gagging him. But Carson clamped down harder, even as he vomited from the terrible taste in his mouth.
Preacher shrieked an unworldly sound. It was so deafening, windows shattered and the floorboards cracked beneath their feet. Preacher kicked his leg back and forth, trying to shake Carson from his grip. It was no use. Carson used all his strength to dig into Preacher’s leg. A crunching sound between his teeth echoed inside his head. Something sharp and crunch splintered into his mouth but was immediately spit out along with a fresh wave of vomit.
Preacher had been so occupied with Carson’s bite, he had let go of James and Gunderson. Both men dropped to the floor, writhing in pain. Not fully aware of their surroundings. Carson heard James moaning somewhere in the distance. The sound of James’ voice renewed his hope for survival. Carson bit down harder than before. He gnashed his jaw back and forth, tearing chunks of skin and muscle from the lower leg.
Carson started to feel hot, like his body was overheating. It felt like fire burned inside his skin and he started to scream, letting go of Preacher’s leg.
Chapter 48
James hit the floor hard. It took him a few seconds to get his earthly bearings after spinning in the air for too long. His head felt dizzy and swollen, as if he suffered from a terrible fever. As he blinked his eyes to clear up his vision, James saw his mother crumpled along the far wall. A mountain of blackened bodies stood between him and his mother.
The scream bellowing from Preacher’s mouth shook James back to reality. He sat up to see what was happening. Carson hung from Preacher’s leg like a wolf chewing on a deer bone. Preacher stomped and kicked his leg, trying to rid himself of the human appendage.
James scrambled to his feet. He charged over the dead bodies, using them to bridge his location to the altar. At the last second, James lunged forward, catching Preacher in the chest as he slid over the top of the altar. Both men tumbled along the far floor boards.
Preacher was up before James could right himself. He noticed the icy, blackness which stared back at him. Preacher no longer burned but his pale white skin was rosy and the fiery red mane of hair steamed. The holy man came at James with the tenacity of a cornered raccoon. James shifted to the right to avoid the attack but he wasn’t fast enough. Preacher’s knee caught James in the temple. The room began to swim with darkness as he fell backward.
“James!” Carson’s voice stunned James into consciousness. The sound of sheer panic in his little friend’s voice made James hurry to his feet to save Carson. But Carson wasn’t in trouble. James was. Carson had only tried to warn him.
Preacher came at James with a long, silver dagger. The blade was sharp and straight on one edge, and wavy sharp on the other side. He stabbed at James while he reached full height. James raised his arm to fend off the stabbing motion. Instead, his forearm took the brunt of the sharp blade. The knife sunk through his James arm, all the way to the hilt. Preacher fought to yank the blade out of James’ arm as it had stuck between the two bones. The pain was sharp at first. James pulled his arm back in immediate reaction to the stabbing. When his arm swung back, it took the knife with it, still buried deep in his arm.
James glanced at his outstretched arm. He couldn’t believe the huge blade was still lodged in his body. Before he could divert his attention from the gushing wound, Preacher’s fist caught James in the face. He staggered backwards, watching flames spark upon Preacher’s head. The sparks grew
into leaping fire which began to spread down his back and shoulders. Preacher thrust his palms forward, shooting balls of fire at James. Thankfully, James tripped over a dead body as he stumbled backwards. The fire balls flew over him, striking Preacher’s bedroom door.
Preacher unleashed an ear-splitting shriek. The sound pierced James’ brain harder than the pain of the stabbing. He slammed his eyes shut against the noise and raised his hands to his head to shut out the sound.
Preacher charged forward. He grabbed James by the shoulders and lifted him up to the ceiling. The flames on his hands burned through James’ shirt. He howled in pain at the immense heat. James was pinned to the wall, near the ceiling, as Preacher hoisted him above his head.
Carson ran up to Preacher from behind. He bit down on the back side of the same leg he had bitten earlier. Preacher screamed and dropped James to the floor. He spun around and punched Carson in the face. The spot which absorbed Preacher’s knuckles singed, embers floated off the soft skin.
James became enraged when he saw Preacher harm Carson. The pain in his arm or shoulders no longer mattered. His fear and self-doubt evaporated. James tugged the knife from his arm. It ripped muscle and tendon as it came free. The process was slow like pulling a sword from a stone. The wavy blade was covered in rich, thick blood and tissue. James raised the knife above his head and ran to meet Preacher.
Preacher must have heard James coming. He turned in time to see James in mid-air with his dagger whistling towards him.
The blade slashed across Preacher’s throat. Arterial spray shot into the air, covering James in a crimson splash. Preacher dropped to his knees, his black eyes wide open in disbelief. The flames on his body sputtered and blinked out.
