FIVE
Nabo suddenly popped up in the middle of their group, startling them all. He smiled at them. “Oh, good moves, people!” he complimented them. “Very good. Showed a lot of initiative on your part. This is going to be such an exciting evening.”
“You son of a bitch!” Janet cursed him. “Look what you’ve done to my daughter. You think it’s exciting and fun.”
“People are only doing what they have always wanted to do, Mrs. Doctor. Like the old song, ‘Anything Goes.’”
“But you could stop it!”
“Au contraire, Mrs. Doctor. I cannot. I am powerless to stop them. It is completely out of my hands.”
Janet was trembling with rage. She turned away from the evil smug face. She wanted to slap him.
“Then who can stop it?” Ned demanded.
Nabo smiled at him. “You are a man of the cloth and have to ask that, Preacher? Your god and my god can stop it. That’s who. Why don’t you ask your god to intervene? That should be good for a laugh.”
Ned stared at the man for a moment, his expression grim. “Perhaps I shall. But bear this in mind, worshipper of the devil: my god works in strange ways.”
“Then He’d better get off His ass and start working,” Nabo replied. “For your time is growing short.”
Then he was gone.
The group looked around them for some trace of the man. There was none.
“Let’s walk the fence,” Dick suggested. “Surely they can’t be guarding the entire length of it.”
“One man with a rifle every hundred yards or so would be sufficient,” Martin said.
“Yeah,” the foreman said glumly. “I already thought of that.”
And that was the way it turned out. And the men were on the outside of the fence, behind cars and trucks, reasonably safe from any gunshots that might come from inside the fenced area.
Gary had never said one word about his daughter being molested, and his lack of concern was beginning to irritate Martin.
As they walked, Gary, Linda and Joyce in the rear of the group, Martin asked, “Did you know the man who raped you, Susan?”
“Just his face. I think he works for some ranch. I’d never seen the other man. Mr. Holland? What’s wrong with my father?”
“I don’t know, honey. I was about to ask you the same question about Linda.”
“And Mrs. Hudson?”
Martin nodded.
“They sure are acting weird, I know that.”
“I agree.”
The group had walked about half the fenced area, and were now behind a livestock pavilion, and the irony of that had not escaped Martin.
“Listen to them,” Rich said, disgust in his voice. “They’re in there talking about the price of cattle and breeding stock and so forth. Like nothing has happened. It’s like . . . we don’t exist, or something.”
They stopped to rest under a huge old tree.
“I sort of understand what is happening,” Janet said, “but not the why of it.”
“Perhaps there is no why of it,” Ned said with a tired sigh. “Although I’m sure there was to begin with. From what you’ve all told me, revenge was originally the why of it. But I believe that probably got lost along the way as this Nabo and his people made their pact with Satan. I’m no expert on the supernatural, folks. I’ll admit that I never really believed in it. We always left exorcisms and the like to the Catholics. Somebody remind me, if we get out of this situation, to apologize to the first priest I see.”
“We’ll get out of it, Ned,” Martin said, with more assurance than he felt.
“There has to be a why to it, Reverend Alridge,” Jeanne said.
“Not necessarily, child. While, as I said, I’m no expert on the supernatural, I do come with some degree of expertise on the subject of Satan. He’s the great destroyer. The ruiner. Creator of havoc. Nabo was right. It’s nothing more than a game to the Dark One. Tweaking the nose of God. That’s all this is. There is nothing more to it.”
“A game,” Amy spoke softly, as she held Mark’s hand.
“I’m afraid so, child,” the pastor told her. “All in the blink of an eye,” he whispered.
“And when they’re finished here in Holland? . . .” Eddie asked.
Ned shrugged. “Who knows. Who is to say that even should we survive, we’d remember any of what has happened? I can’t say. You’d have to ask either God or Satan about that.”
“Why us, Pastor?” Dick asked. “Why were we . . . spared, for the want of a better word? I’m certainly not a religious man.”
“It was for a reason. Of that I’m sure. But the specific reason? ... I don’t know.”
The ferris wheel was slowly making its circles, music from the midway reached them along with shouts and shrieks of laughter. But the laughter was darkened with an evil sound.
“Mr. Holland?” Susan touched his arm.
Martin cut his eyes.
“The carnival people haven’t done anything that obvious, and I don’t think they’re going to. Do you see what I mean?”
“I’m not sure I do, honey.”
“Well, if—when—we get out of this, what can we say for sure that the carnival people have done? That we could prove or that anybody would believe? They haven’t done anything that I’ve seen. It’s all been townspeople. I don’t think the carnival people are going to destroy the town. I think they’re going to sit back and let the townspeople do it. So if the cops were to come in while all this was going on, Nabo and his people are clear. It would just be sort of a reverse play on what happened back thirty-odd years ago. You see what I mean?”
“I think she’s right, Martin,” Eddie spoke.
He nodded, cutting his eyes to Gary, sitting with Joyce and Linda. They all three had odd expressions on their faces, and a strange look in their eyes.
Joyce met his eyes and smiled at him. But it was not a pleasant smile.
What was going on? “One thing for sure: Nabo can’t afford to have us talking when it’s all over. He’s got to get rid of us.”
“Kill us, Mr. Holland?” Jeanne asked.
“Maybe not,” Ned broke in.
Eyes turned toward the preacher. “Would you explain that, Ned?” Janet asked.
“Not if he could convert us. The devil would much rather do that than see us dead. That would be a much greater victory for him. And wager on this: the Dark One will really increase the pressure on us as the night closes in. Divide and conquer, I should imagine.”
“I think you’re right.” Dick met the man’s eyes. “But there has to be something we can do.”
“Oh, there is.” Ned took out a small pocket Bible and opened it. “I would suggest prayer for starters.”
* * *
Audie and Nicole had gone boldly onto the midway and returned with armloads of hamburgers and Cokes.
“No one bothered us,” Audie said, passing out the hamburgers as Nicole handed around the large Cokes. “In a manner of speaking.”
“People would look at us or stop us and chat like it was old times,” Nicole said, before Audie could elaborate on his last remark. “But I didn’t know what they were talking about half the time. They were talking about things and people and events that I never heard of.”
“What do you mean?” Eddie asked.
“Well . . . Mr. Harris kept talking about a basketball game between Holland and Chadron and about the big fight afterward.”
“That was in ’59,” Martin said. “I remember it. What else?”
“Well, he kept using terms like ‘groovy’ and ‘neat’ and ‘cool’ and ‘hip.’ And he asked me if I was going to the sock hop this evening.” She looked at Martin. “Mr. Holland—what is a sock hop?”
“It’s a dance. Usually held on a basketball court. You take off your shoes so you won’t scar up the floor. Dance in your socks.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve seen that in the movies. I—” She stopped as Gary and Joyce both started snapping their fingers and singing “The Boy From New York City.”
“What is that?” Audie asked.
“A song that was popular back when we were in high school,” Martin told him. “Back in ’64 or ’65—somewhere along there.”
“They look stupid!” Rich summed it up, watching his father and Joyce.
Gary and Joyce shifted vocal gears and began singing the old Dave Clark Five hit “Bits and Pieces.”
“I don’t get this,” Frenchy muttered. “And I don’t think I like it either.”
Nicole shook her head. “That guy that jumped off the ferris wheel? He’s still laying out in the open, gathering flies. And the woman that Dr. Tressalt shot is still in the middle of the midway.”
“And nobody is paying any attention to them?” Martin asked.
“No one.” Nicole grimaced. “And they’re beginning to smell.”
“I saw Lyle Steele,” Audie spoke to Martin. “He told me to give you a message.” He cut his eyes to Linda, snapping her fingers to the song Gary and Joyce were singing.
“Say it, Audie.”
“Well...”
“Go ahead, Audie. The whole message. Intact. I told you the other night that I thought I’d have to kill Lyle someday. Just give me a good excuse to do it.”
The deputy sighed. “Okay. He said that at first he was gonna screw your daughter and then give her to his men for a good old time. But something better has come up for you.”
Martin’s brow furrowed. “What is he talking about?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Susan,” Martin asked, “just before you were taken away, did you feel anything strange at all?”
“No, sir. Nothing. And I’ve thought about that. One second I was with the group, the next second me and squirt were in that dark place.”
“Hey!” Jeanne said. “Where’s Don?” She looked around her. “He was right here a second ago.”
They all looked around them. All but Linda, Joyce and Gary. The three of them were sitting and looking at each other in total silence.
The young cowboy was gone.
“I just handed him a couple of hamburgers!” Nicole said. “He was eating one.”
Don was standing amid some of the strangest creatures he had ever seen in his life. Tiny towered over him, while Samson stood looking at him as though he would like to break every bone in the young man’s body. Which he would cheerfully do if Nabo would cut him loose.
“A gentleman’s agreement, young man?” Nabo asked with a smile.
Don looked around him. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. “What kind of deal and how did I get wherever I am?”
“You are neither here nor there, young man,” Nabo told him. “You are in limbo.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You are behind the veil. You are between lives. For the moment, you are neither dead nor alive. Is that explanation sufficient?”
“I guess. What do you want?”
“Oh, I think you know.”
Don lifted his right hand. Still had his hamburger, half eaten. He smiled and offered it to the man. “Care for a bite?”
“Don’t be absurd!”
“Just thought I’d ask.” He took a bite of the hamburger. It was tasteless. He looked at the sandwich. “What’s wrong here? ”
“You may experience only what I wish you to experience. And I assure you, pain is not an option.”
He recalled Ned’s words. “I won’t sell my soul to the devil or betray my friends, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Don’t be too hasty, young man. I would suggest you give it careful thought.”
Don started to tell the man to shove it. But the words would not form on his tongue.
Nabo suddenly became angry. “Interference! Why?” he shouted.
Don couldn’t understand who or what he was talking about. Or talking to.
The dark lenses of Nabo’s glasses turned to the young man. “How would you like to spend eternity listening to your flesh burn, and living in the most excruciating pain you could possibly imagine . . . forever!”
“That would probably be unpleasant. But I don’t think my God will allow that to happen.”
Nabo spat in his face.
Don met the man’s eyes. Or lenses. He was scared, but refused to let Nabo see the fear. “I may not be the most religious man in the world, Nabob, or whatever your name is, but I try to be a good person. I’m kind to people, I’m kind to animals. I don’t even like to brand stock. And I was raised in the church. You want to hear me sing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’?”
“What?”
Don started singing as loudly as he could. Lot of echo in this place.
“Enough!” Nabo shouted. “The words are offensive to me.”
Don kept singing.
Nabo slapped him across the face, bloodying Don’s lips, silencing him. “I should have Samson tear your arms out of the sockets and then throw you back to your friends. How would you like that?”
“I wouldn’t,” Don replied honestly. “You always have to have others to fight your battles and do your dirty work for you?”
“I should tear your tongue from your mouth. You’re a fool!”
Don didn’t try to argue that. Maybe he was. He looked first at Samson, then at the giant, Tiny. The hate in their eyes chilled him. Scared him. But this came to him: If Nabo was going to do something, why didn’t he just do it and stop talking about it?
He met Nabo’s dark lenses and wondered if the man could read his thoughts?
Nabo smiled as he walked around and around the young man. Don didn’t know where he was, but it was weird, no doubt about that. All black and foul-looking. But shiny enough to see. Dead silent and dark as hell. Then the thought came to him: Maybe that’s where he was. Hell.
“No, no, you idiot!” Nabo snapped at him. “You are not in Hell.”
That did spook Don. But confirmed his suspicions. Nabo could see into his mind.
“The entire town,” Nabo said, disgust dripping like slime from his cruel mouth. “I have the entire village in the palm of my hand; a total victory-except for your little group. You’re ruining everything!” he roared, spittle spraying Don’s face. The man’s breath was stinking. Smelled like . . .
... the grave.
Don forced himself to keep his expression as bland as possible and figured the best thing he could do was keep his mouth shut.
Nabo shouted threats at him. Told him what he could do, the most hideous of things. Nabo circled the young man, screaming threats and curses at him, seemingly never taking a breath.
Or course not, Don thought. Why should he have to? The man is dead.
“Let me gouge his eyes out,” Sam rumbled, “before you send him back.”
“Yes!” Tiny said, smiling cruelly. “Let’s all enjoy listening to him scream.”
Nabo shook his head. “That would only serve to solidify the group. He pointed a thick finger at Don. ”But the night shall change it all. You Christians will probably survive the light, but not the dark. Go!” he screamed.
Don slid on his face and chest and belly and came to an abrupt halt, his head in Jeanne’s lap. His face was cut and bleeding from the crashing impact with the ground. But he still clutched the mashed hamburger. Maggots crawled from the wrapper. Feeling them crawling on his flesh, Don jerked his hand back. Martin kicked the hamburger away.
Jeanne yelped in surprise as his head landed in her lap. She fought back her surge of fear and helped to roll him over on his back. He was scared and disoriented and looked to be in shock.
Gary, Joyce and Linda had gone for a walk, ignoring the warnings from Martin and the others. Susan wet a cloth from a nearby outside hydrant while Martin took the young man’s pulse.
“Fast but very strong,” he said.
Don tried to sit up. “I’m all right.”
Jeanne pulled his head back down. “You stay still for a minute.” She took the cloth and bathed Don’s face. The cuts were minor, already closing.
“Where did you come from?” Amy asked, a trembling in her voice.
Don cleared his throat a couple of times. “From a meeting with Nabo and some of the weirdest-looking people I have ever seen. Big giant of a man and a huge, muscle-bound guy. I got the feeling there were others there that I didn’t see.”
“Tiny and Samson,” Martin told him, watching as his daughter, Gary and Joyce returned. They did not seem at all interested in Don’s return. “But where were you, Don?”
“I don’t know.” Don sat up and took a sip of Coke from a cup Jeanne handed him. He told them what he could remember about his journey—and return. And about Nabo’s anger at his remark that God would not allow Nabo to send him to burn forever.
“Interesting,” Ned spoke. “Very interesting. Our prayers might have been answered in a small way. And you say it was black?”
“Real black. So black it was shiny. That’s how I could see.”
“Mayor!” came the shout. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Please,” Don muttered. “No more surprises for a few minutes–please?”
“Relax,” Martin patted his shoulder. “It’s old Doc Reynolds.”
They watched as the old man walked toward them, leaning heavily on his cane. He came around the side of the livestock pavilion.
Martin stood up and greeted the man. “How’d you get in here, Doc?”
“I walked in through the front gate. How else?”
“But the gate is closed, locked and guarded, inside and out!” Audie said.
“I noticed that when I got inside,” the old doctor told them. “But from the outside it doesn’t appear that way.”
“How? ...” Amy opened her mouth.
Doc Reynolds waved a hand, silencing her. He motioned for Martin to walk with him. They moved a few yards away from the group.
“Listen to me, Martin. None of you are in a normal situation here, so don’t try to rationalize it as such. You must realize that you’re facing the living dead, and act accordingly.”
“And they are acting on orders from the devil?”
“Probably.”
“You took a terrible chance in coming here, Doc.”
“I’m almost ninety years old, Martin. I have no fear of death. Listen to me: I have the insight. Your father has the insight. Yes, has. He is not truly dead—not yet. He’s been waiting for this. He’ll be back very soon. Brace yourself for that. The sight will not be pleasant. Now, Martin... you also have the gift. You must bring it to the fore and use it against Nabo and his people.”
“But I...” Martin wet suddenly dry lips. “The insight,” he whispered. “Last week, on main street, I thought I saw time revert back to the 1950’s. A little while ago, Audie and Nicole mentioned the people on the midway talking about events that happened years ago like it was just yesterday.” He almost said he also saw his daughter change into a demonic-looking hag. He was conscious of Doc’s eyes on him.
“Yes, Martin. I’m sorry to have to say that you are right on all counts.”
Martin realized the man could see his thoughts. He remembered the night of the party, when Joyce’s face changed into that horrible piggy-looking thing . . . and he thought of Audie, the night Hank Rinder was killed, when the deputy had seen Gary change into something not of this earth.
Martin stared at the old man.
“Yes, Martin. Right again. And again, I’m sorry about it.”
“But? . . .”
“They are what they are, Martin. They cannot change. So you must be very careful and ready for anything at all times. Do you understand?”
“What you’re saying—thinking—is monstrous!”
“I am truly sorry, Martin. But that is the way it is.” The old man sighed painfully. “Martin, when you bring your gift to the fore, it will be something you will have to live with all your remaining days. And it can be dangerous. Your mind can destroy people. Always remember that.”
The old man turned away.
“Where are you going, Doc?”
“To try to buy you some time to prepare yourself, and then to meet my old friend, your father.” He chuckled oddly. “It’s going to be quite a ride, son.”
Martin didn’t have the foggiest idea what kind of ride the old man was talking about, or even if the old man was telling the truth–but he strongly suspected the latter was all true.
Martin thought of his daughter, his best friend, and a woman he had gone all the way through school with.
The doctor read his thoughts. “Yes, Martin. Yes.”
“You’ve known for? ...”
“Since the birth of you all. I delivered you all. And no, you weren’t born with a veil over your face or anything like that. I just knew. You are all perfectly normal-appearing babies, with all your fingers and toes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before about Gary and the others?”
“I didn’t think the condition would ever surface. Your father didn’t want me to mention it to you. We talked about it the day before he was murdered. Anyway, would you have believed me?”
Martin shook his head. “I don’t know. Alicia? ...”
“Of course.”
“How can I be sure you’re telling me the truth?”
The old man smiled. “You know, Martin. You’re sure.” His words were soft and sad. “And now you have a job to do. How you do it is up to you.”
“You want me to? ...” He could not bring himself to say the words.
“Yes. There is no other way. You have no choice in the matter. If not . . .”
Martin could read the old man’s thoughts clearly. Death. Betrayal. Savagery. Torture. Acts so depraved and hideous no human nor animal would do them.
“My daughter, Gary, Joyce ... all the others I saw today from the speaker’s platform ... they’ve known since birth?”
“No. It takes someone like Nabo to bring it out. There are hundreds, thousands, of these types scattered throughout the world. Most of them, I suppose, live normal lives and when they die... go to hell, I guess. really don’t know. I don’t know if they even have a soul, Martin. So little is known about them.”
“My son?”
“Part of you.”
“Linda?”
“Just like your wife.”
“No hope?”
“None.”
“Gary?”
“Like his brothers. Only able to disguise it far better. Joyce is the devil’s own. Watch her.”
“Jesus God!”
“I hate to be sacrilegious, but if I was going to call on anybody for help, I’d add Michael to that list if I were you.”
“God’s mercenary.”
“And now, son of my old friend, so are you.” The old man turned and walked away, slowly and painfully, toward the crowded midway. Filled with evil. Walking toward his death.
“Go with God, Doc,” Martin muttered, as some of his group gathered around him.
“What was that all about?” Eddie asked.
“I’m not sure,” Martin lied, looking at Gary. “I think the old man has become very senile. Gary?” he forced himself to look at his friend.
“Oh, I quite agree. He’s been around the bend for years.”
Gary Tressalt’s handsome face had changed to a hideous mass of sores. Martin forced his expression to remain calm, as he stared at his lifelong friend.
He cut his eyes to his daughter. His beautiful Linda. She was anything but beautiful. She had changed into a dreadful-looking old hag, with rotting lips and long greenish teeth. Her face was warted and hairy and her hands were gnarled claws.
Martin looked at Joyce. She was unbearably ugly. Pig snout and long curved teeth. Just as he remembered her from the party.
Everyone else appeared to be normal. Martin felt Dick’s eyes on him. The foreman had sensed something was very, very wrong. But he was keeping his mouth closed about it for the moment.
Martin glanced at Ned. The pastor, like Dick, felt something was wrong.
Martin wished he could have spoken more with Doc Reynolds. He wished a lot of things. None of them, he knew, would ever come true. Conditions would never return to normal—not the normal he had once known. Not ever. He looked at his own half eaten lunch, still in the wrapper. He felt nauseous as he struggled to maintain his composure.
What to do?
He tried to tell himself he didn’t know. But the lie fell flat.
How to do the act?
Easy. Just reach inside his jacket, take out his gun, and kill the demons while they were still in human form.
How did he know he could do that?
He didn’t know how. He just knew.
Could he destroy them with his gift of insight? He didn’t know.
Kill them, Martin! the words boomed inside his head.
But he couldn’t do it. Not without more proof. How could Reynolds think he could destroy his own daughter? His best friend?
“What’s wrong, Dad?” his son asked. “Other than the obvious, that is?”
Do it, Martin! a voice urged him. Kill them all. It’s your only chance. Kill them! Do it now, man!
“I’m just trying to think of a way out of this jam, son.” I saw Gary kill that woman. Sure. Solidify his position with us, I suppose. Same with allowing the men to rape his daughter.
“I think the night will be better for us,” Gary finally spoke. Was that a deliberate blandness in his voice? Martin thought it was; couldn’t be sure. Couldn’t be sure of anything. “I think we should just take it easy and stay out of sight until full dark. Then maybe we can make our move.”
“Yeah, I agree with that,” Joyce said. “Let’s wait until night. Stay together.”
Martin wondered where the three of them had gone during their walk. He looked at his daughter. “How about you, baby?”
“I think Gary is right.” Gary! She had never called him Gary in her life. “I think we should just hang around here until dark.”
“All right,” Martin agreed.
“Fun! Fun! Fun!” the loudspeakers blared. “Come one, come all to the crazy house! It’s wild and crazy, folks. I guarantee it.”
Nabo’s laughter rang out over the fairgrounds.