The Testimony of Jacob Hollow

by Joe Joiner

Chapter 2

Strange Bedfellows

I've spent years of my life getting used to the sight and smell of blood, as a man who spends a good majority of his time gutting fish, it's just part of the job. Jenny, on the other hand, had been working in a mortuary for at least some time. So she probably wasn't bothered by the blood any more than I was. I think what got to both of us was that the violence had been done to a human being, and the seemingly casual way that the arm had been tossed up onto the sign that welcomed visitors to Castle Bay. It was a man's left arm, and a gold wedding band was still on the ring finger. The elbow was crooked over the top edge with the hand hanging down the front, so I walked around the back to see if there was a body hanging there. Jenny followed me silently, her hand over her mouth as if she was holding back a scream. Who knows, maybe that's exactly what she was doing. I could feel the tension that was between us. I wasn't going to be forgiven any time soon.

There was no body, just the rest of the arm. It had quite obviously been torn from the owner's shoulder. Ragged skin and torn muscle surrounded the gleaming white nub of bone, and the flesh had turned a sickly gray color. "Oh, sweet Jesus," Jenny said. She turned away from me and vomited. Of course, that made me want to puke as well, so I walked a few steps away to avoid the smell and to give her some privacy. Maybe she would appreciate the gesture. After a few moments I heard her come up behind me.

"So do you always leave women to defend themselves, you jerk?" Well, so much for appreciation.

I didn't want to face her, but I managed to turn around and look her in the eye. "Sorry," I muttered. "I'm not the heroic type."

"Really? I wouldn't have noticed." Sarcasm almost dripped from the words. I got defensive, something I can't help sometimes.

"Jenny, I was scared, okay? I don't do well with mutant bears chasing me."

"And I do?"

"You ran faster than me. If we hadn't got out of the fog it would be noshing on my innards right about now."

A light appeared in her eyes, and I realized something I'd said had struck a chord. "Yeah, why did it stop when we cleared the fog?" She looked back at the roiling cloudy barrier. "That's strange."

"I don't care, but I think we should report it, and that arm, to the police. Where is the station?"

She pointed up the street. "About four blocks that way, but I don't think we're going to find anyone to help us there."

"Why is that?"

"Take a look around, Jake. It's too quiet. It's early, sure, but there should be some people around."

A shiver went down my back then as I saw that she was right. The town was quiet. Way too quiet. Nothing moved or made a sound in the stillness. There was no breeze, either. It was as if the wind dared not intrude on the quiet. No birds, no insects, no cars starting or early morning news shows blaring. Utter silence reigned in Castle Bay. Jenny's expression was somber. "Are we safe out in the open like this?" I knew she was referring to the disembodied arm behind us.

"I doubt the killer is still out and about in broad daylight," I said. "That's been there for at least a couple of hours. They've most likely moved on. We should get to the police and let them know they've got a killer on the loose."

She nodded, and then we both heard a meaty thump behind us. I knew at once that the arm had fallen from the sign, but something made me look anyway, and I felt my stomach do a flip-flop. Jenny saw me gagging and looked back, and then she was retching.

The arm was moving.

It wasn't just twitching as I've heard body parts can do, it was moving. The fingers were digging into the soft gravel of the shoulder, and the muscles in the forearm were bulging out as it twisted on the ground like a fish out of water. The bicep flexed and relaxed, then flexed again. Thick blood, long congealed in the veins and almost black in color, oozed from the torn arteries in syrupy rivulets.

Jenny threw herself at me and shrieked, her cry shattering the deathly silence. "What is going on?" she wailed. The strong young woman I'd first met was gone, replaced by this scared little girl, and I couldn't blame her. I felt like screaming myself.

Grateful as I was to have her in my arms, it wasn't exactly what I had pictured when holding her came to mind. "Let's get out of here," I mumbled. She pulled away from me, and I think she was a little disgusted with herself for that momentary show of weakness. She wiped her eyes roughly and avoided looking at the still wriggling arm. "Right," she said. "We'll try your idea and head for the police. There has to be somebody there." I could hear her emphasize that one word, and even though I thought it was probably wishful thinking, I agreed just on off chance that she might be right.

We started up Main Street together, moving at a brisk pace to quickly leave and get the grasping appendage out of sight and hearing. I believe that Jenny was only staying with me because I was the only other person around. I wasn't about to start thinking that she'd stick by me once we got to the police. I suppose I wasn't too unhappy about it, come to think of it. I had a new job waiting, and didn't really have time for a wishful romantic layover in some remote little burg. All I wanted was to report the bear, the killing (because how anyone could live after having their arm torn off), call a tow truck and get the hell out of Castle Bay. I would remember Jenny fondly, but it was best not to dwell on what probably could never have been.

Like what we had seen of the town so far, Main Street was deserted. Nothing moved on the street or the sidewalks. We walked past several dark smudges that could have been dried puddles of blood, but we both pretended not to see them and neither of us wanted a closer look. We passed empty businesses that should have been busy even at the early hour. A coffee shop, the newsstand, a blinking neon sign proclaiming the quality of the Denver omelet at the All Night Diner, and cars, which like mine; appeared to have stopped dead either along the street or in the middle of it. Three cars had piled up in a nasty crash at the second intersection we came to, but the drivers were nowhere to be found.

We didn't talk either. Jenny seemed to have gotten over her fright and was walking with determination in her stride. She was making a pointed effort not to get too close to me. Something in her demeanor told me that it would be best not to bring up our brief embrace, ever. She was the strongest woman I'd ever met, and her fright back down the road didn't lessen that opinion. Even nerves of steel can get frayed with enough pressure. Something told me she wouldn't spook like that again.

Have you ever noticed how loud silence is? That absolute quiet that pounds in your eardrums? With the exception of our footsteps, there was nothing to hear except that dead stillness. For some reason I kept thinking that this was what the grave sounded like. Complete and utter quiet.

When sound finally intruded, it was such a shock that it made us both jump. It came from down the street behind us, and it was such a normal sound, one you hear every day and dismiss casually. However, what we heard was so surprising we both jumped.

An engine started in one of the cars we had passed. We glanced at each other, and I saw that Jenny was as shocked as I was. Either someone had snuck out of one of the buildings we had passed, or they had been crouched down in the seat waiting for us to go by.

We both turned just as an old, old car pulled away from the curb. I think it was a Packard, a model from the late forties, but I don't know old cars. I remembered walking past it, noting its presence, and then forgetting it. Exhaust curled up from the dual pipes and the engine rumbled throatily, reminiscent of the bear-thing we had fled from in the fog.

It drove to the center of the street and came toward us slowly, then suddenly accelerated. Jenny started waving her arms, and stepped off the sidewalk into the street. Tired of walking, I joined her. It was the first sign of life we had seen, the first indication that there were others still alive. We tried to flag it down, but when it passed us we saw that there wasn't anyone at the wheel. From all that I had seen so far, there was something very unnatural going on in Castle Bay. The car continued past us without slowing, and turned off onto one of the side streets several blocks up. Both of us stood there staring unbelieving until it was out of sight.

"People torn apart, cars that drives themselves, what the hell is wrong with this place, Jenny?" I asked without looking at her. I thought she'd explode at me, but surprisingly, all she did was shake her head. "I don't know what's going on," she admitted. "I've been at school for almost a year. I mean, Castle Bay was always a little odd to outsiders, especially after Biocyte built their research facility here, but this is stranger than I'm used to. I hate to admit it, but I'm frightened."

I realized we were still standing in the street, and there was a good possibility that another car could start up, and the next one might not ignore us the way the old Packard had. Thinking that another haunted vehicle might try to run us down, I got back on the sidewalk. I guess Jenny thought it a good idea as well, and she followed me. "I don't like this at all," I said. "How far to the cop shop?"

She pointed to a marble sign in a patch of green grass two blocks further up the street. "That's City Hall," she said. "The police station is right next door. It's not much, just a small office, two cells and a garage for the two cruisers. Towns like Castle Bay don't see a lot of crime."

"Until now," I muttered. "Sorry to say it, but the closer we get to the station, the more I think we're not going to like what we find there. Not one little bit."

She gave me a sidelong glance, and I was pleased to see there was no loathing for me in her eyes anymore. "I have a feeling you're right," she said after a moment of contemplation. "Let's try anyway, okay?" Regardless of her own strengths, she was still a human being in a situation out of her control, and there was safety in numbers, even if one of the numbers was a coward at heart.

It seems to me now that we were in a state of shock. With all that we had seen in the last hour, it was a wonder we weren't running around in circles screaming our heads off. You can't imagine it until you've been there and seen those things for yourself. Under normal circumstances, a car driving itself would have freaked me out, but right then I wasn't really that concerned. After all, a ghostly Packard kind of pales in comparison to a severed arm flopping in the dirt long after it should have been stiffened by rigor mortis. At least with the car there was a chance for a plausible explanation, but with the moving arm there wasn't.

I suggested we stay closer to the buildings to present less open targets. Jenny agreed. I peeked in the window of the office we were next to, some real estate place, I think; and saw it was empty. Nothing that strange, but then I noticed the thick layer of dust and dead bugs on the windowsill, and I realized that nobody had been inside for a very long time. I pointed out my discovery to Jenny, then asked her, "How long has it been since you heard from your uncle?"

She gave the least perceptible start, a guilty flinch; I'd hit a nerve. "A few months," she admitted. "So?"

"So, I'll bet if we check a few other places we'll find them in the same condition. Something is going on in this town, and it's been going on for a long time." I jerked a thumb at the deserted office. "Nobody's been in there for at least a month."

"Businesses go under all the time," she said, but she said it without much conviction. She knew I was right.

"Why didn't you know about this?" I demanded, and grabbed her arm. "I had the idea you and your uncle were close, but now I think there's something you're not telling me."

She threw my hand off and glared at me. "Fine," she growled. "I left a year ago with no intention of ever coming back." She looked furious. "I kept in touch with Uncle Rob for a while, but a couple of months ago his letters stopped."

"So you're not on break from school," I deduced. "You came home to make sure he's okay."

She sighed. "So what's wrong with that? I always hated this shitty little town. You would to if you had been forced to grow up here. I love my uncle, but the town ostracized him, and I paid for that growing up." Tears glimmered at the corners of her eyes. "He raised me after my parents died, so I owe it to him to make sure he's alright."

I felt like a jerk. I also wanted to embrace her again, but I assumed any advance of that type would be rejected, and hostilely. "Why was he such an outcast from the rest of the town?"

Again that look on her face of trying to figure out why I was asking. Then she shrugged. "The town mortician isn't the first guy invited to cocktail parties or church gatherings in any town. Uncle Rob was also a researcher into the occult, and when that was discovered, they wanted even less to do with him."

I tried the door of the office and found it was unlocked. Before she could say anything, I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside. "Let's get off the street a minute," I explained before she could get really angry. Once the door was shut I dropped tiredly into a dusty chair, raising a cloud that made us both cough. Inside it was notably cooler than outside on the sidewalk. "A mortician that studied the occult, no wonder they thought he was a nut." She was about to give me a nasty retort, but I lifted my hand to cut her off like before. "I'm not saying he is, just that that had to be the main reason for their avoidance. What made him start getting into that stuff?" I don't know why, but in that moment I thought that perhaps there was a connection between her uncle's research and what was going on in Castle Bay. A zombie-like arm was certainly supernatural enough to be associated with the occult.

Jenny frowned as she thought it over. "You know, I've always wondered about that. I think it was about the time that the Biocyte facility opened up. He never liked the idea of the company coming here; in fact, he was the lone dissenter when it came to the vote. Everyone else was looking forward to the revenue the center would bring, along with a few jobs. Uncle Rob hated new technology, he said someday some idiotic researcher would go too far, and the rest of humanity would pay for it."

I pointed out the window to the dead town. "Looks like he was right. Jenny, I think your uncle may have known what was going to happen here long before it did. Let me guess, he's the one that suggested you got to college in another state?"

Jenny's mouth dropped open. "How did you know?"

I nodded, suddenly excited that I'd figured out at least that small part of the puzzle. "He wanted you away from here, as far away as he could get you without you getting suspicious of his reasons." From the expression on her face, I'd hit the nail right on the head. Jenny slumped into the only other chair in the office. "It all makes sense now," she whispered, "but why would he do that? What did he know?"

I shrugged. "Can't tell you," I answered. "Maybe we should ask him ourselves."

"We?" she asked, and her eyes narrowed.

I locked my gaze with hers and refused to be cowed. "I'm involved now," I said. "I think I'm entitled to an explanation as much as you are."

Jenny broke the stare and looked at her hands folded in her lap. "Okay, I'll give you that much." When she lifted her eyes again, they were cold. "Don't ever run out on me again, Jake." I didn't much like the way her gaze was ripping me to shreds. "If you do, I'll make you regret it."

I didn't need her to point out the hunting knife, but she did it anyway.

It was about eleven o'clock when we left the real estate office. We had agreed it might be a good idea to just lay low and out of sight for a while. I've always believed that discretion is the better part of valor, and playing it cautiously when facing the unknown is always the wisest course of action. We sat apart, not speaking, while Jenny watched out the front windows and I dozed sleepily at the desk, my head pillowed on a stack of brochures.

Nature's calling was getting insistent, so I got up to find the bathroom. Jenny didn't turn when I left the room, or acknowledge the fact that I had returned. I didn't tell her that in the bathroom I'd found the sink and toilet full of old dried blood, and a bloody handprint smeared on the wall next to the door. I thought it best she not know or see for herself. The office wasn't the safe haven I'd first believed it to be. The blood told me something else as well. The violence in Castle Bay had been going on for a long time.

Back on the sidewalk, I tried to ignore the hollowness in my stomach. I thought about suggesting we look in the diner for something to eat, but my every instinct was screaming, bad idea! Jenny heard the growling of my belly and rolled her eyes. Rummaging in her backpack she handed me a sealed package of beef jerky. "Thanks," I said weakly, feeling like a nuisance again, but this time Jenny smiled at me when she said, "You can't help being hungry. Let's get to the station." She started down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, and I hurried to keep up, my mouth full of the salty meat and my hunger temporarily sated.

Cop central was as silent as the rest of the town we had seen. We stood on the lawn and watched the quiet building. Jenny was right, there wasn't much to it. It was a single story structure constructed of cinder block and brick. It looked out of place among the Victorian style buildings around it. The door was set in the center of the wall facing us, and there were bars on both the windows on either side of the door. Looking like a small fortress, I could see that it was sturdy enough to give us some protection if things got hairy, provided it wasn't currently occupied.

Jenny had said there were two cruisers, but only one was in sight, and it was parked rather oddly, half in the garage. Dark smears on the trunk had to be blood, but again, I wasn't up for a close investigation. Not yet anyway. "Well, shall we go in?" Jenny's voice was filled with uncertainty, but she was doing a pretty good job of acting like she wasn't scared. Hell, if she could do it, so could I. "Why not," I said. "Maybe we can find something better than my gun and your knife for protection."

She nodded. "Good idea." Shrugging her pack into place, we went up to the door.

Have you ever had that sensation when you know absolutely that you were about to make the wrong move, but you couldn't help but do it? Oh boy, did that feeling rush over me like a wave as I put my hand on the knob and opened the door. It was jerked out of my hands so suddenly I didn't have time to react or cry out. Then hands shot out of the dimness and yanked us both inside. The door slammed shut behind us as we fell to the floor. Lying on my stomach and try to get back some of the air that had been knocked from my lungs, I gasped like a fish. Then the cold steel muzzle of a shotgun pressed against the nape of my neck. A man's gruff voice said, "Check 'em," from just above me.

A hand grasped my wrist while two others pressed my head to the hard floor. "Ow," I moaned.

A softer voice spoke directly above me. "He's got a pulse and he's breathing. So does the girl. I think they're human."

Jenny said something then that I'd never heard a member of the fairer sex say, and I won't repeat it. Needless to say it probably turned the air around her blue. "What do you mean, we're human?" she demanded to know.

"Can we let them up, Troy?" The woman's voice again, strong and seductive. I couldn't wait to see what she looked like.

The one called Troy spoke. "Hank, you got them covered?"

"Yeah." The gruff voice again, laced with age. The shotgun barrel was removed from my neck.

"Let them up," Troy said.

I slowly got to my knees and looked around.

The first word to enter my mind was, survivors. The second was, lunatics.

There were five of them, and they were armed to the teeth. As Jenny and I got to our feet, I looked around. The one called Troy stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of me, a hunting rifle hanging from his shoulder by a leather strap. He was a tall black man about my height; very bald, and very menacing in the way his eyes devoured every detail about me. His pants, boots and long overcoat were all black leather, and the silk shirt he wore was also black, but stained with something. "So who are you?" he asked. His hands were nowhere near his rifle, but I suspected that if I made any kind of threatening move, he wouldn't need it to break me in half. The man oozed strength like cologne.

Holding out my hand was probably the bravest thing I'd ever done up until then, but I didn't want him to think I was intimidated so easily. "Jacob Hollow," I said, "lost traveler. This is Jenny Hopper, assistant to the town mortician."

He regarded my hand as if it might be a snake, and then shook it with a grip that could have been bone crushing if he hadn't restrained himself. "I'm Troy Williams." His voice was deep and melodic. "How'd you get here?"

Jenny glared at him. "We walked up the street. Anything wrong with that?"

Troy slowly turned his head and stared at her with such intensity that she winced. "Nothing wrong with it except you two aren't covered in blood and are still intact. Things out there don't like the living."

"What the hell does that mean?" Jenny was spitting mad at being tossed around, and she had enough guts to show it. She had the idea that no matter what she said Williams wouldn't pop her one. I doubted it.

He continued to gaze at her. "Live long enough and you'll find out." He turned back to me. "Tell me how you got here without a fight."

Jenny looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel, so I spoke. "I picked Jenny up a couple of miles outside of town. My car broke down in a fogbank and we walked in the rest of the way."

"You were damn lucky," the gruff man said. "The last person to try and get out through the fog didn't get far." Turning I saw that the shotgun was still aimed at my midsection and winced. This guy still wasn't convinced.

"No kidding," I dusted myself off and held out my hand to him. "Jacob Hollow."

"I ain't gonna shake with you," he said. "Not yet. You haven't proved I can trust you yet." He glanced at Jenny but the shotgun never wavered from my gut. "Either of you."

"Well, nice to meet you anyway," I said with more cheer than I felt. "I thought we were all alone in a bad episode of Twilight Zone. I'm glad to see anyone, even a grumpy old bastard with a scattergun pointed at my gut. You got a name?"

He blinked and a grin formed on his face. "Ah hell," he said and grabbed my hand in a calloused grip. He gave it three pumps up and down and let go. "I'm Hank Dupree. You got some balls, kid." He was in his mid-forties, with a thick mass of coal black hair streaked through with gray. I imagine women may have found him ruggedly handsome, but he reminded me of a poor man's James Woods. His clothes were basic Texan, jeans and a blue flannel shirt over a dingy white tee-shirt, and heavy work boots. His accent was southern but faint, and I supposed he was another wayward traveler caught up in this mystery.

A soft hand touched my arm and the seductive voice I'd heard earlier spoke. "Nikki Nunez," she said. "We're glad to see you too." She was an exquisite Latino beauty with gorgeous long brown hair and dark eyes you could feel yourself sinking into. She was a few years older than me, maybe early thirties, but looked younger. Her skin was incredibly smooth, and I imagine she had broken a few hearts in her day. She was wearing a dirty yellow turtleneck sweater and a blue skirt that was torn in a couple of places. I admired her with a practiced eye.

She pointed to a man sitting quietly on the sofa. "That's Winston Holcroft." He was the oldest of the group and had that professor quality about him. He wore a suit with a bow tie, of all things; and loafers. He probably thought his spectacles made him look wise, but to me were grandiose, and his neatly trimmed beard was graying but full. He lifted one finger from the arm of the sofa to acknowledge the introduction. "Welcome to our little group, Mr. Hollow," he said, and his voice was too soft and effeminate for my liking. He reminded me of the one teacher in every school, the one that kids hope they don't get.

Next to Holcroft was a teenaged boy wearing a letterman's jacket with the number 44 on it. He was crowned with a wild mane of brown hair, a bad complexion and an attitude to go with it. He smirked at me, "Joshua Matthews," he grinned. "Quite a hotty you got there." I decided then that I didn't much like him, right from the start. Jenny gave him a glaring look and slowly lifted her middle finger.

"I'm not his 'hotty,' smartass, but I'm more woman than you'll ever get."

The smirk vanished off the kid's face, and as Jenny turned away I saw him mouth, "Bitch," under his breath. I would be keeping a close eye on him, that was for sure.

Troy and I looked at each other, and I could tell he was amused by the little confrontation. "How'd you make it through the fog?"

"We ran," I said with a shrug. "Something chased us until we cleared the fog, but stopped once we were in the clear."

Troy arched an eyebrow. "Did you see what it was?"

"Nope," I answered. "It sounded sick, so my first thought was a rabid bear, but after the other things we saw getting here, I'm not so sure. The fog was too thick anyway."

Troy lifted his chin toward the single office. "C'mon, you two," he said, "let's talk." Jenny and I followed him into the room where a pot of coffee was steaming on the desk. A plate of sandwiches was next to the coffee, and my mouth started watering. Troy motioned to them both and said, "Help yourself. We found a fresh supply of food yesterday, and Nikki fixed this little feast for us. You look hungry, and the rest of us already ate."

We dug in. It was simple fare, bologna and cheese with some limp iceberg lettuce, a big bag of potato chips and a box of toaster tarts for desert, but right then it was a king's feast. We ate with gusto, like we had never seen the blood and gore of the morning. Troy leaned against the doorframe and watched us in silence, allowing us to finish uninterrupted. Swallowing the last bite of my third sandwich, I asked him, "So are you the man in charge?" Jenny looked up curious to hear his answer.

He crossed his arms and chewed his lower lip. "I suppose so," he finally replied. "They defer to me, ask me what we should do next, so I guess that makes me chief of this little tribe. You want the job or something?"

I lifted my hands and shook my head. "No thanks, kemosabe. I'm no chief."

"That's for sure," Jenny muttered, winking at me when I glared at her. "How did you end up in Castle Bay?" she asked him. "I know just about everyone in town, and I think I'd remember you. I have been away for a while, so you must have come here after I left."

He ran his hand over his smooth pate and chuckled. "I've been here for less than a week. I'd love to leave, but the fog won't let anyone out. You can get in, sure. We've seen people do it, I did it, and you two managed it, but everyone who tried to leave only got a few steps before we heard them screaming. That stopped any further attempts to walk out."

"Why not drive? There are a lot of cars out there," I asked, but even before he answered I knew what his answer would be.

"Can't. Cars won't run in the fog. They go about a hundred feet and then die. Staying in them is no protection either. That thing hunting inside can tear through metal without a problem. We heard that happen too. I pretty sure you ran past the remains of my Jeep and never saw it. Nothing mechanical works well in Castle Bay. Look at your watch, it's probably stopped"

I checked, and he was right. The digital display was blank.

Jenny kicked the desk. "Perfect," she snarled. "We're trapped."

Troy nodded. "It gets better at nightfall. That's when the fog gets really thick and creeps into town. Daylight pushes it back to the edges, but at night we're at its mercy. We lost two people last night before making it here."

I definitely didn't like the sound of that. "Lost them?"

"Doc Horner got torn apart by a group of ghouls. Have you ever seen someone eaten alive? It's not pretty. We lost Timmy when they managed to split us up for a while. We had planned to come to the police station , figuring the thick walls would hold them out, but Timmy never showed up. Nikki is kind of upset about that, so don't mention it to her or you'll get her going again."

Jenny refilled her coffee and sat on the desktop, crossing her legs under her. "Why were you in Castle Bay?" I didn't like the way she was talking to him. Her voice had a sultry edge to it. If he was aware of it he didn't let on.

Troy smirked. "I was hunting," he said evenly. "I'm a bounty hunter by trade. Got out of the service and thought it the best way to put all that good training to use. I was here looking for a criminal that has eluded the authorities for a very long time. The bounty on his head is enough to set me up for life. I thought he was here, so here is where I came."

Jenny seemed impressed. Was I jealous? Yeah, you could say that. A fisherman pales in comparison to beefy bounty hunter. "What kind of training?"

"I'm an ex-army Ranger. Once the group found that out, there was no getting out of being big chief." Just then, Hank walked in the office. "Troy," he said in his gravelly voice. "We've got movement outside."

Troy shifted his eyes to me. "Anyone else with you?"

"No. We did see a car drive itself though."

"Big red Packard?"

"That's the one."

"Hank calls her old Betsy. She moves around a lot. That's the only car in town that runs."

Jenny was curious, "Why Betsy?"

Hank lifted one corner of his mouth in what passed as a smile for him. "After my ex-wife," he said. "She was an evil old bitch too."

That unexpected response had me spraying out a mouthful of coffee and sent me into hacking coughed laughter. Hank pounded me on the back while the others watched. "This fellow don't get out much if he thinks that old joke is funny," Hank mused. Troy chuckled and Jenny failed to conceal the smile that crept onto her face.

"What's going on out there?" Troy was suddenly serious, and in the blink of an eye the rifle was off his shoulder.

Hank shrugged. "We're not sure. Saw something move across the town square a few minutes ago. Whatever it is, it's small and quick. Ducked out of sight before I could get a good look at it."

Troy frowned. "Normally they stay out of the sunlight. I wonder what's changed?"

"Excuse me," Jenny said. "What exactly are you talking about? What things?"

Hank gave her a patronizing wink. "Every nightmare you ever had, missy. That's what's out there. Ghouls, zombies, strange animals that hunt anything living, and some of the weirdest insects I've ever laid eyes on, and they like the taste of blood."

For some reason I didn't doubt a word Hank said. I've seen strange and weird things, like St. Elmo's fire, and once I could swear I saw a mermaid when the engine on our boat died and we were stuck at sea for five straight days until we repaired it. One night I shared a vision of a ghostly passenger ship with my entire crew, and it vanished before our eyes like a mirage. Yes, I was a believer when it came to the supernatural.

Jenny was a skeptic. "Bullshit," she said. Hank was untroubled by her doubt. "You'll see before too long," he said with confidence and left the office with a backwards glance at Troy.

The former Ranger followed him without a glance at either Jenny or me. We looked at each other and followed them into the other room.

The group was huddled near the front of the building. Winston was kneeling at the right window, and Nikki and Hank were on the left. Troy was looking out of the peephole in the door. All of them were armed with some kind of firearm, Nikki held the twin of the shotgun Hank was using, and Holcroft had a semi-automatic handgun. Joshua was curled up on the couch and chewing his thumb. The sight of all these normal people wielding deadly weapons was unnerving. I drew my own gun and got a surprised look from Troy. "Nice peashooter," he said. "Can you use it?"

"Depends on how close the target is. What's going on?"

"We never know what we're going to have to kill next. Yesterday it was undead scientists from Biocyte, today, who can tell?"

Jenny rolled her eyes and whispered what sounded suspiciously like "Nutcases," under her breath. As for me, my heart was pounding. I was scared, but I was also part of a large group of heavily armed citizens. Odds were good I'd survive the encounter.

"There," Hank whispered hoarsely. "Across the square, by those bushes. Anyone else see it?"

I moved to stand over him and look out. I could see where he was looking, but the area lay in shadow and the dark green of the brush made it hard to make out anything. I have excellent vision though, and after a few seconds I could see what Hank was talking about. There was color where there should not have been. "Got it," I said. "Patch of red near that rock, right?"

Hank looked up at me and whistled low. "Sharp eyes, boyo. It wasn't there ten minutes ago. What do you think, Troy?"

"We'll wait and see. It either knows we're here and is trying to decide what to do, or it doesn't and we're safe. No sense making a foolhardy charge that'll get somebody killed."

I liked his logic. Staying alive was a definite must on my list.

"It's moving," Hank said and everyone was suddenly alert.

I noticed Nikki watching very intently with a hopeful expression on her lovely dark features. When a smile blossomed on her face I was immediately smitten. "It's him," she said joyfully. "It's Timothy."

Troy frowned. "Can't be," he said disbelieving. "There's no way he could have survived the night."

Nikki was right, and I saw the kid scamper into view. Even from a distance I got a good look at him, and my first appraisal wasn't a good one. He was small, about fourteen with mousy brown hair and thick glasses. To give him credit, he carried a baseball bat and from what I could see, he knew how to use it, and probably had at some point during the night. He ran across the square hunched over and the bat held out in front of him, ready to strike if need be.

"Kid has some guts after all," Hank said, but I disagreed. Hank probably couldn't see what I could. The kid was scared out of his mind and running like a rabbit. Instead of darting from hiding place to hiding place, he ran right in the open for anyone or anything to see him.

Troy must have read my mind, "Kid's a damn fool," he growled. "If anything is chasing him he'll lead it right to us."

Something was chasing Timmy, and it brought a gasp from all of us when it loped into view. It was the biggest, ugliest dog I'd ever seen. Black as night with bright red eyes and a foaming muzzle. It stood as tall as a Great Dane but was more stocky and muscular. "Damn," Troy hissed. "It's a Hound."

Jenny looked over at him. "A dog? That's all?"

Troy kept his eyes on what was occurring outside. "Not a dog," he replied. "A Hound. As in hellhound. Mean bastards that are faster than a normal dog, and devilishly hard to kill. Give me a hand, Hank." Together they opened the door and took aim.

Timmy could run. There was no denying that there was a sprinter somewhere inside that nerdy exterior, but he was losing steam fast, and the Hound was about to overtake him.

Troy fired first. I saw the slug hit the Hound dead center in the chest. The impact stopped it cold and slammed it up and over onto it's back, where it lay twitching. Timmy didn't bother to see if it was dead. He'd seen Troy and Hank in the doorway and made a beeline for them. The look of relief on his face was short-lived when Hank called out, "Ya better hurry, boy. It's getting up." He squeaked and nearly tripped, but kept his feet and somehow put on another burst of speed.

I thought he was just trying to get the kid to move a little faster, but the Hound was indeed rolling over and throwing a glare of pure hatred our way. Hard as that may be to swallow, I was certain that there was intelligence behind the baleful red glare of its eyes. It got to its feet, shook its massive head, and set off after the boy again.

This time Hank let go with both barrels. I thought the Hound was a goner for sure.

It dodged.

Impossible to imagine, but true. The dog leapt over the expanding cloud of pellets in the instant Hank fired. The shot tore chunks of turf from the ground under it. Hanks cursed and popped open the gun to reload as Troy fired again.

The monstrous canine moved faster than any greyhound and dodged that bullet too. It ate up the distance between it and Timmy in three long lopes, growling and snarling, as if it was aware that it would win the race, and couldn't have been happier about it. Troy cursed and tried to track it in the gun sight.

It leaped again and this time it came down on target. It's claws hooked into the back of Timothy's shirt, and the boy let out a wail of pure terror as the weight of the beast bore him to the ground. Gnashing teeth thrust down to tear out the back of his neck.

Five weapons fired at once, a deafening cacophony of thunder and smoke that left me dazed. The Hound jerked and was flung backward, gaping holes torn in its heaving sides. It landed hard and lay still for a moment, giving Troy and Nikki enough time to grab Timothy by his arms and drag him safely inside. He fell into Nikki's arms and sobbed. I stared at the smoking pistol in my hand. Had I hit it?

The Hound was struggling, trying to regain its feet, something I couldn't believe. No animal could survive such an onslaught of destruction and survive. Thick black blood was gushing from multiple wounds, but yet it moved, and all the while it stared at us with those malevolent red eyes. Hank reloaded his shotgun and approached the beast. Its stare was defiant as the big man slowly lifted the gun to his shoulder and sighted in. "Old Yeller you ain't," he drawled, and pulled the trigger. The Hound's head blew apart in a cloud of bone, brains and blood. The body swayed for a few seconds, still stubbornly clinging to life; then toppled over.

Jenny turned away and groaned, "Ewww."

"Get in here, Hank," Troy commanded. "There might be more of them out there."

That single comment made Hank move fast. Breaching the shotgun he discarded the spent shells and reloaded quickly as the door was slammed shut behind him. He grinned at me. "Nice shooting, kid. You're better than you think. Feels good to kill something that would happily kill you, doesn't it?"

I nodded blankly just so he would think I was agreeing with him. Troy glanced at both of us and sighed. Then he turned to Nikki and the still weeping Timothy. "Okay, boy," he started, "I can let it go that you probably let everything out there know exactly where we are, but I do want to know one thing, and I want to know right now."

Timothy looked up at the stern face and winced, and I realized I knew what Troy was going to ask the boy even before he did. "How did you survive the night?" he demanded.

Timothy's eyes went from person to person, lingering on Jenny and me since we were new to him, but even in Nikki's he found the question. He let go of her and sat down, crossing his legs under him, and his childlike demeanor struck me. He was fighting tears and he was scared. No longer scared of the Hound, he was now worried about whether Troy and the others would let him stay after leading one of the demonic horde to their door.

Swallowing hard, he started to speak.

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