PARADISE
Tuesday
A LOUD clink sounded in his head. Someone had taken a nail and hammer to his skull.
Clink, clink, clink.
Come on, boy, wake up!
Clink, clink, clink.
Try his forehead, Doctor. Clink on his forehead. See if that wakes him.
It slowly occurred to Johnny that the sound wasn’t in his head. It was on the wind, like they were building a railroad through Paradise. Trains were coming to Paradise. Maybe they would bring some help. Some more cops to hang on the trees.
Or maybe it was coming from the church. Wasn’t there something bad going on at the church?
Johnny opened his eyes and peered through a gap at the bottom of the steps. The town was half gone. Reduced to lumps of dust and ash. Claude and his gang stood where the old theater used to be and kicked dust. But he didn’t care about them anymore.
He turned his head to look at the church. The crowd had left. Only Steve remained. He had backed up and was staring at his handiwork.
Samuel was there, stapled to the solid-oak church doors. They had driven two metal stakes through his shoulders and into the wood. Wide trails of blood had flowed down his sides, pooled on the floor at his feet, and run over the concrete steps.
Johnny rolled over, clambered to his feet, and lumbered toward the alley. He gripped the rear corner of the building and vomited.
I think they killed him. Yes, they most definitely killed him.
Johnny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turned into the alley, and staggered into the forest.
WANNA TRIP, baby?
He’d tripped, all right. He’d tripped real good.
It was the only thought that passed through Steve’s mind as he stared at the boy’s dead body on the church door. Something wasn’t right about what had happened here, he figured that much, but it was all he figured.
Was he upset? No, not really. The kid had it coming. He had tried to ruin a good thing, and that wasn’t part of the plan. Steve wasn’t sure what the plan was really, but this kid wasn’t in it. Or maybe this was the plan, killing this boy.
He stared at the bloody stake in his right hand. A wave of nausea swept over him. Then passed.
“Quite something, isn’t it?”
Steve turned to the voice. Black stood with his hands on his hips, all dressed up in black without a spot of dirt on him. His blue eyes were fixed on the church doors where the boy hung.
“Yeah,” Steve said.
Black looked into his eyes and flashed a tempting smile. “Makes you want to do it all over again.”
Steve felt his head nod once. “Yeah.” There was some truth to that. He might not want to do it again right away, but a faint hint of desire pulled at his heart.
“Yeah,” he said again.
“I’m free, baby,” Black said, looking back at the boy. “I do believe that I’m free.”
“Yeah,” Steve said. This time he had no idea what Black was talking about.
“Do you know what we’ve done here, Steve? Hmm? Do you know how far we’ve come in seven short days?”
Steve couldn’t really remember that far back. He looked at the saloon that he used to own. That whole part of town was gone, but he didn’t mind. He had his stakes, didn’t he?
Another wave of nausea hit his gut, then passed.
“Well, I’ve got good news, buddy boy. It’s just the beginning.”
“It is?”
“Do you know what we have to do now?”
Steve tried to think of an answer but couldn’t. “No.”
“We have to kill the rest.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Every one of them. Starting with Johnny. We’ll have to find him first. He gave us the slip. But we will, and when we do, we’ll do it again.”
Steve just stared at him. He didn’t know what to think about that. But then maybe he did. If Black said that’s what they had to do, then that was what they had to do.
“Yeah,” he finally said.
Black chuckled and winked. “That’s my boy. Take a break. Celebrate.”
“Umm . . . when are we?”
“When are we what? Say it.”
“Killing.”
“That’s better,” Black said. “Six hours. We’ll start the killing in six hours.” He lowered his arms, turned his back, and walked away.
He thrust an arm out toward the dead boy and spoke without looking back. “And get rid of that body. I don’t want to see it again.”
JOHNNY SAT on an outcropping of rocks just above Paradise and cried. Below him lay the remains of a town that only seven days ago had been his home. Now it was a graveyard.
He had never felt so desperate in his life. He either had to go to Delta or back to the monastery now. The monastery was closer, but with Samuel dead, he didn’t know what waited up there. Billy might have killed them all. Delta was farther, and he would have to walk.
The fact that his mother was still down in Paradise prevented him from taking either option. He didn’t know what to do, so he just hugged his legs to his chest and cried.
Then he lay down on his side, curled up in a ball, and tried to lose himself in a safe corner of his mind. If there was one left.