The Testimony of Jacob Hollow

by Joe Joiner

Chapter 9

Fools Rush In

Outside of Earp's the world was lost in fog that swirled like a hazy white blanket and obscured almost everything more than a yard away. As best I could tell, we'd been inside for little more than twenty minutes. How much time had really passed was something I couldn't be sure of. Occasionally a ball of bright light would zip by, reminding me of old stories about Will-O-the -Wisps. The three of us stood at the door to Earp's looking out. "You think we're gonna have a worse time gettin' back than we did gettin' here?" Hank asked.

Troy only shrugged, but I had to comment. "I'm counting on it. We got here too easy."

I've heard the phrase, 'still as the grave,' but never really thought it could apply to actual life. I was wrong. Except for the churning mass of thick miasma that sealed Castle Bay from the world, nothing moved on the street. At least as far we could see, anyway. No sound either. "I'm not sure I want to go out in that again," I said, mumbling the words. I can't be sure if I was speaking to be heard, or just thinking out loud.

I suppose I was expecting an encouraging word, but both men agreed with me by not replying. Hank was unconsciously rubbing the spot in his jacket where his flask was usually hidden, and for the first time I wondered why he'd left it behind. He tapped Troy on the shoulder. "Okay, chief. What's the plan?"

The ex-ranger's expression was grim. "Lock and load, move on out," he said. "I'll take point. The sooner we leave, the faster we get back." That said, he unlocked the deadbolt, took a quick glance both ways to make sure the way was clear, and opened the door.

As if it had been waiting, the fog swirled in and coiled around our legs. Its hunger was almost tangible. You could feel it wanting to pull you down and smother the life from your quivering, fear-wracked body. I imagined that anyone that died inside the mist found their soul ensnared within, unable to move beyond the boundaries of this world. What would it be like trapped within something so vile for all eternity, endlessly wandering in a vortex of evil while you screamed for redemption? I couldn't stop myself from shuddering as we went out.

The cold was back in the air, along with the same perpetual foul odor that we never could get used to. Like before, we could see without using our flashlights. In fact, the glow seemed almost brighter. We darted across the street, footfalls muffled by both the fog and the coating of dried slime on the pavement. I was about to ask if we were taking the alley back, then the space between the two buildings we'd come out of loomed before us and we were off the street. I'm certain I wasn't the only one that heaved a sigh of relief to not be out in the open.

The alley was darker then the street, even with the ethereal light from the fog. We crept like rats in the confined space between the buildings until we were behind the row of businesses, then turned right and began a slow but cautious jog back to the general store.

I heard it as we passed a dumpster, and at first I thought the sound came from inside the metal waste bin. A low growl and a quick scrabbling sound emanated from underneath it, and I had my rifle aimed and ready to fire before I realized I'd stopped moving. Having brought up the rear, neither Hank nor Troy noticed I wasn't still with them and kept going, leaving me alone.

Shit.

I backed away from the dumpster as the thing beneath it growled again, and I readied myself to shoot. Of course, doing that would probably bring every nasty within hearing down on me like a ton of bricks, but I was armed and nervous. I wouldn't go down without a fight. It growled again, but this time there seemed to be a friendly whine mixed in. Then I recalled the dog we'd all heard barking earlier in the day. Was it possible? "Here, boy," I called softly, and added a low whistle.

A hopeful whine was the response I had hoped for and received. "C'mon, fella," I tried. "That's a good boy."

Two paws appeared, followed by a black nose. The dog that emerged was a mess, but mostly due to the fact that he was absolutely filthy. Good sized canine, definitely a mongrel, I guessed he was a mix between a German shepherd and a Doberman. Through the dirt and mud caked on his coat I saw how thin he was. In better light I could have counted his ribs. He was watching me with wariness in his eyes and muscles poised to spring away if I proved unfriendly. I patted my knee and called him again. "It's all right, pal. I won't hurt you."

In the end he decided to trust me, walking stiff-legged and placing his nose in my upturned palm. I swear I felt him shudder with relief. I crouched down and scratched his ears. He pushed his way between my legs and butted me in the chest with his head. I couldn't help but smile. Dogs do that to you. He was wearing a thin chain collar with a tag, but the light was much too dim to make out if there was anything engraved on it. Then I looked around and realized I was alone in the fog with nothing but a skinny mutt for protection. "This is not good, my friend. Let's get moving."

He seemed to understand what I had said and jumped back as I stood up. How far was it to Harmon's? There was only one way to find out. Keeping the Underwood aimed dead ahead, I went in the direction I'd last seen Troy and Hank going. I figured if I kept the doors and dumpsters to my right, eventually I'd get to where I was going.

It's funny sometimes how the mind works. We do the strangest things when we're feeling stressed out or scared. Without the other two men my odds for survival had dropped dramatically, which should have put me into my usual state of panic. Instead, I crept along mulling over possible names for my new pooch. That was how I lost focus and wandered away from the walls which were my only lifeline back to the group. I didn't see the chain link fence until the end of my rifle slid through it and I punched myself in the stomach with the butt. I barely covered a gasp and a curse with my hand, and then managed to untangle the rifle without rattling the fence.

I peered through the links, but could not see anything other than the cursed fog. I don't know why I expected to see anything else, but I did hear running water. The only thing I could see was a gently sloping piece of ground covered with dead grass. I could just see a bit of concrete. It had to be a drainage ditch, and a good sized one. The sound of water seemed to be fairly far below me, but the fog played tricks with sound, so far all I knew it was just inches away. I suppose someone with more courage would have looked for an opening or climbed over to investigate further, but as I've said before, I'm not the heroic type. If I made it back I'd bring it up to Troy. Maybe Jenny could provide more information about it.

The mutt chose that moment to start growling. I jumped, thinking at first he was upset at me for some reason. I looked down and felt a tingle of apprehension shoot through me. He was standing with all four legs spread apart, ears flat against his skull, and his hackles raised. The dog was on about something, that was for sure, and I didn't want to see what had him spooked. I backed away, and the dog followed.

I only got to take two steps. That's when I heard it crawling up the sides of the embankment on the other side of the fence. An emaciated gray hand sank long fingers into the soil, and with a creak of withered tendons the rest of the ghoul quickly followed, pulling itself over the edge of the ditch, tearing more holes in the ragged suit it wore. What appeared to be the remains of an expensive silk tie was still knotted around its neck. It locked eyes with me and my heart stuttered when it grinned. There was blood and bits of flesh stuck in its teeth, and even from that far away and I could smell its rank, fetid breath. My pulse was pounding. The thing before me had once been a man. Now it was a monster. It crawled to its feet and stared at me, then took a couple of lurching steps and took hold of the fence. I grimaced as the flesh of its fingers oozed over the steel and dripped pus and bits of skin onto the ground. I lifted my rifle and aimed at the head. My finger tightened on the trigger, but I hesitated at the last moment.

If there were more of them down there, one shot would bring them all. I'd be leading them right to me. Worse, they might follow me and find a buffet at Harmon's. I took two more steps backward. The ghoul cocked its head to one side and pushed against the fence. The chain link bulged but held. The dog barked. The ghoul sneered at me and gnashed its teeth, then gave the fence a good shake. I could almost see the wheels churning in its mind, the remains of whatever intelligence he had possessed in life working to figure out how to get past this obstacle.

I waited. Seconds went by like hours.

It looked from me to the fence.

I boogied.

Man, I ran like the devil had blown a shot of hot pepper up my ass. With the mutt on my heels, I practically flew down the alley, not caring what I bumped into. Behind me the ghoul let out an angry wail of frustration and shook the fence. If there had been wings on my ankles I couldn't have moved faster. Long legged skinny guys can hustle when they need too.

I bounced off the wall a few times, careened over a stack of moldy cardboard boxes, and slammed into the door of Harmon's. I hadn't realized how close I was. I don't know why I expected it to be open, but it was shut and sealed. They probably thought I was dead. I pounded on the steel barrier, "Let me in!"

Muted voices on the other side. "Jake, that you?" It sounded like Hank.

"You expecting a pizza? Of course it's me, now open up! I got trouble behind me!" That was an understatement. Hearing voices the ghoul was wailing and trying to get through the fence again. If I could hear him in the fog from that far away, he was going to be a beacon for every other flesh-starved zombie in town. Crap, I was making a ton of noise myself.

I could hear them discussing it. Discussing it? What the hell was there to discuss? Finally I heard the lock being undone and the bar lifted. The door popped open and I was staring down several weapons aimed at my face. I yelped, "Shit!" and ducked. Warm yellow lantern light pushed away the fog.

"Yep, that's Jake," I heard Jenny say. Funny. Very funny.

Troy and Hank grabbed me under the arms and yanked me inside. Winston made to close the door but a brown streak slipped through before he could shut it. All the guns swiveled to track the dog. "Hold on!" I yelled. "He's with me."

The mutt backed around my legs and bared his teeth at everyone. Winston and Nikki finished sealing the door, and all eyes fixed on me. "Found him under a dumpster on the way back," I explained. "That's when I got separated from you guys."

"We weren't sure you were you," Jenny said. "Winston said you might be a ghoul trying to trick us into letting you in."

My eyes narrowed and I tried to bore a hole in Holcroft's skull with my stare. "Heard many talking ghouls, Winston?"

He graced me with his 'dealing with fools' look. "In this town, Mr. Hollow, anything seems possible." I couldn't really argue that. Nikki got down on her knees and held out her hand.

The dog took a few hesitant steps toward her, sniffed the air, then figured she was safe and let her pet him. "Good boy," she said in the soft way that had initially grabbed my heart.

"That's a good boy." She turned the tag on his collar to the light. "His name is Sparky."

"Sparky?" Josh mocked. "What kind of a stupid name is that for a dog?"

She finished reading the tag. "'If found return to Timothy Moore, one three one Robin street, Castle Bay.' He was Timmy's dog," she said, holding the mutts head and staring into his big brown eyes. Then her doe-like gaze fixed on me. "You found Timmy's dog."

"Well, I'm not a total screw-up," I said. Yeah, right.

She stroked Sparky's head. "He would have been glad to see you." She stood up and took my hand. "Thank you," she said. Things were good between us again, if only a little. I knew better than to ever expect any intimacy ever again. Something was different about her, a change that had taken place so rapidly I almost missed it. She was harder now. Before you could see softness; almost an aura around her, that now was no longer there. Timmy's unspeakable death had done that. Even though it wasn't his fault, I hated the kid even more for ending my relationship with Nikki before it ever really got started.

She led Sparky away by his collar, the dog casting me one last glance as he was guided toward the dog food aisle. From Timmy, to me, and now to her. I just couldn't seem to keep the new friends I was making.

Troy took my arm and we walked several steps away from the others with Jenny following. "What's out there?" he asked, concern making his voice heavy. "I know you saw something."

"One ghoul," I told him. "There may be more, but I only saw the one. There's a drainage ditch that runs behind this row of buildings, but I couldn't see how deep it was or how much water was in it."

"Right," Jenny said. "That's the big storm drain the town council had built about five years ago." When neither Troy nor I said anything, she went on. "This is a coastal town, so they get a lot of bad storms and for years parts of town would flood since Castle Bay is built inside a natural basin."

"Good thing it has a fence around it," I said, "or that thing would be chewing on my ass right now."

"They had to put one up," she responded. "When the water's running high it could easily sweep a grown man away. People lost a lot of pets in there during bad weather."

Troy had been studying the floor while she spoke, and now his head jerked up. "Where does it empty?"

His aggressiveness startled her and she actually backed away a step before recovering her poise. "Into the sewers, where else?"

"After the sewers," he said, taking her by the shoulders. "Think, Jenny. The sewers have to go somewhere, and I know there's not a water treatment plant in this area. So where does it all go?" Why would he know there was no wastewater plant for Castle Bay? I suddenly wondered who he had been looking for in town.

Jenny's eyes were far away as she mentally made a map in her head. Then they focused on Troy and she smiled. "The ocean," she said with a grin.

It took me a minute to understand what they were so happy about. "You think we can use the sewers to escape the town, don't you?"

"You bet," Troy said. The man sounded absolutely giddy, which, if you knew Troy, was not something you'd expect to see from him. It was an expression of complete relief. We'd found a way out.

Troy broke the news to the rest of the group. At first they were skeptical, who wouldn't have been? Winston, of course, was the negative factor, but he was roundly ignored. The prospect of getting out of this hellhole overrode the fact that we'd have to travel through cramped tunnels half-filled with water, braving who knew what kind of monstrosities, and then somehow climb down sheer cliffs and swim to safety in freezing water. Sure, no problem.

The first thing to figure out was where our next steps should take us. The debate raged for some time, with Jenny and Troy remaining adamant about going to Grave's End, while Winston kept insisting on Biocyte. Nikki was in favor of returning to Ripley's so we could at least recover our strength. Josh and Hank and I mostly kept quiet. Hank passed me his flask at one point, and I took a swallow of the vilest whiskey I'd ever tasted. It burned like battery acid in my throat, and landed like a warm lump in my stomach. Bracing? Yeah, you could say that, but it certainly helped steady your nerves. I started to see why Hank kept the flask full, but I'll be damned if I could ever catch him in the act of refilling it. Funny, with an empty town all around us he had his choice of the best bourbon on the shelves, but kept going back for the cheapest rotgut he could find. Two snorts of the stuff and I was comfortably buzzed with a good case of the nods. I waved away a third shot and was barely aware as the conversation going on around me faded to a muted hum. I closed my eyes and started to drift off. Then my arm was grabbed and Jenny was saying my name. "C'mon sleepyhead, you're wanted."

I mumbled something far from witty and allowed her to kind of drag me to my feet. She sniffed and grinned. "Better stay out of Hank's flask," she chided. "You don't seem to have a head for alcohol." Dupree and his chair were gone, so I must have been further gone than I thought to not hear him move away.

"Nobody has a head for that bilge water," I retorted. "We should give it to the ghouls, they'd never be able to chase us." She laughed lightly and I smiled, feeling encouraged. "Maybe

Hank has it right. There seem to be a lot of reasons to drink heavily these days. At least you could be numb when something rips your head off."

"Ugh, don't be so morbid."

"Sorry. I'm feeling pessimistic these days."

She patted my arm. "I did try for you," she said, taking a quick glance around to see if anybody was listening to us. "Don't lose faith yet."

"Thanks, but I told you it was useless."

"Bringing back the dog was a stroke of luck. It might be helpful." Good grief, she actually seemed to care.

"I'm not going to get my hopes up just yet."

This time she gave my arm a playful punch. "I swear, the men around here are so thick in the head."

"I'm not thickheaded, I'm a realist. Think about it, Jenny. Maybe starting a relationship under these circumstances isn't the best idea. You start caring, and then you have to watch the person you care about die a horrible death. I can only imagine how torn up inside Nikki is right now. For some strange reason she loved that kid. If she and I had gone any further, and she got hurt or killed, it would mess up my head in ways I don't want to think about. Besides, we all barely know each other, and in this situation, there's not much time for intimate exploration, if you catch my drift."

She rolled her eyes. "You're rationalizing, Jake. Making up excuses to not try and work things out because it's easier to close yourself off and pretend you don't care and that you're too proud to take the first step. Get over it already, okay macho man?" It was probably the nicest ass chewing I've ever received, and I think she did it for reasons of her own.

Concern for my well-being definitely wasn't the major factor, so she had something up her sleeve. Maybe she was assuaging her own feelings of guilt for choosing Troy over me.

Yeah, right. Wishful thinking.

I shook my head, rubbed my eyes, and went to find Troy.

The ex-ranger was sitting at a folding table with Hank and Winston. They conversed in low voices while Troy and Hank cleaned their guns. I overheard part of the conversation as I approached. "I say that we take the opportunity and get the hell out of here!" Troy was saying.

Winston shook his head. "There is no guarantee that the sewers will be any safer than the rest of the town," he said. "In fact, I would willingly wager that it would be worse."

Hank blanched. "How's that?"

"Evil things crave the darkness, Mr. Dupree. Conceivably because they are all creatures born of shadow." He chuckled softly to himself. "Or perhaps I am being too poetic. Still, when sunlight does grace the town, evil retreats. So where do you think it retreats to?"

"Damn!" Troy slammed his hand on the table, making everyone jump, me included. Then he saw me standing there doing my best to go unnoticed. "Okay, let's ask Jake. Where do you think we should go?"

He wanted my input? The man had lost his mind. "Don't ask me, Troy. I'm not an answer man."

I thought Holcroft chuckled again, but he did it so low I wasn't sure. Since his back was to me I couldn't see his face, but it wasn't too difficult to figure out that he agreed with me. Just you wait, buddy, I thought to myself. "You've got a brain and you can think," Troy responded, an impatient edge to his tone. "I want to hear what you've got to say."

I shrugged. "Fine. Up until a minute ago I thought leaving by the sewers was a great idea. Now that I've heard what Winston has to say, I'm not so sure anymore. I did see a ghoul in the ditch, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Troy heaved. "I was hoping it was maybe just the one. Hell's bells. Looks like we're back to square one."

"But it's our ball," Hank added. "They don't know what we're going to do either. And I'll bet you that they also don't know we've figured out where the sewers go. Either that, or they're hoping we go that way so they can ambush us in the pipes."

Yikes! I hadn't thought of that.

"This just keeps getting worse by the minute," Troy moaned, slapping his hand against his forehead. "Alright, unless someone has a better idea, then we go where we originally planned.

First we head to Grave's End, then to Biocyte."

"Okay, clue me in," I said. "Why Grave's End?"

He tossed the note I had found at Earp's onto the table. "I want to know what that's all about," he said. I didn't fail to notice that the other scribbles we had found had not been shown to Winston. Troy was waiting to spring that trap when the time was right.

"It could be nothing," I offered weakly. "Nothing at all, maybe just a note about where his next customers were, or something."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You don't believe that."

"No," I sighed, "I don't." My shoulders slumped. "Honestly, I think I'd rather go to Biocyte. Anywhere with grave in the name seems like a good place to avoid."

Hank smirked. "Good point," he said. "Still, y'all can add my vote for Grave's End. We might find something helpful there."

Like what? I had no idea what they expected to discover in the old mansion, and every little spark of self-preservation inside of me was screaming that I should run in the opposite direction, but I wasn't stupid enough to think I could survive Castle Bay without these people. I needed them if I was going to make it out alive. Man, right then all I wanted was the wide-open Atlantic and a ship under my feet. Gutting fish on a daily basis was preferable to this unending terror. I was growing so tired of being scared. Hell, I was even tired of the need to solve this mystery. Why couldn't they just let it go?

I wanted to scream in their faces what idiots they were being, to shout out to the heavens that survival was the objective, not playing junior detective. Did I start yelling? Did I pound the table and make them see the wisdom of Hollow?

Nah. I folded my arms and put a weak smile on my face. "Grave's End it is."

Chickenshit.

Daylight at last, after fourteen hours of darkness. Oh yeah, time was definitely screwed up. The sun didn't come up in the slow usual manner we were used to. Now it crested the horizon and began an upward track you could follow with your eyes. The fog retreated angrily, tendrils of the mist trying to cling to inanimate objects as it fell back, sometimes pulling things over as it went. Winston commented that it appeared the fog was growing in strength too. Nobody had any response.

Troy hurriedly unlocked the door to Harmon's. "We don't have much time," he said. "So everybody put on your hustling shoes. Shoot at anything moving that isn't one of us, and sing out if what you see is too big for you to handle alone. You have lots of backup. Ready? Let's go!"

Out we went.

Jenny pointed the way to Grave's End. Down the street we were on, turn left on Cemetery Road, then straight up two miles to the house. Less than fifteen thousand feet, a good morning jog any other time. Now, who knew what might wind up chasing us? Troy took his usual position in the lead with Jenny tagging close behind. Winston and Hank were next, followed by Nikki and Josh, leaving dependable old me to bring up the rear. I suppose it was my turn, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

Nikki had found a leash and Sparky trotted faithfully along beside her. She'd spent the rest of our time in the General Store feeding and playing with him. It didn't take long for the mutt to forget about me. If dogs can smile, that pooch was grinning ear to fuzzy ear. Hell, he was practically skipping. Given that and the way his belly was distended from a night of binging on dog food and treats, he was in dog heaven. Oh well, c'est la vie. Honestly, I couldn't begrudge her the appropriation of the canine. If she needed something to dote on and play mother hen to, then so be it. One less thing I had to worry about. At least I wouldn't have to clean up after him.

We moved at a brisk walk, eating up the distance to Cemetery Road. It didn't take long to move out of the business district of Castle Bay and into what had to be the suburbs. Considering the entire municipality barely qualified as a town, I really don't know what to call the area we were in. The homes weren't big or expensive like others we had seen, and nothing like the House of Rest in size or grandeur. I guess the people that had lived there were the middle class of Castle Bay, and they had taken pride in their small two and three bedroom homes. It was kind of heartbreaking to see how rapidly they were deteriorating. Children's swing sets sat unused in the sun, weeds growing high enough to touch the seats. Minivans and station wagons, many of them on flat tires, were evidence that most had died (or would die) in their homes. This time, we saw nothing to indicate that there were other survivors in hiding.

We turned east onto Cemetery road. Let me tell you, just looking at that street sign sent a chill racing up my spine. No other houses there, just a long winding road with thick forest on each side. The upper branches were so thick and intertwined that they created a green canopy over the road. Very little light got through to the earth. Troy stopped us before we could enter where the light got really dim. Just above the trees we could see the shingled roof of a very large house. We were still a good distance away, but I didn't like being even that close. My senses were all working overtime telling me what a stupid idea this was.

Maybe it was his training as a ranger that made him pause. Something he sensed or suspected was making him cautious. I kept hoping he'd say that the risk was too great and that we needed to go back. Ripley's attic kept flashing through my mind. There we had been safe. Not for the first time, I pondered the possibilities of making it back there on my own. Then Hank nudged him. "What's on your mind, son?" he asked.

Troy chewed his lower lip. "I'm not sure," he said, and I noticed how his finger kept stroking the trigger of his rifle. "Just a feeling."

"Well, we either go in or out. Make up your mind, 'cause daylight's wasting."

Troy scowled, and for a brief moment I thought he was going to turn around. Then he walked under the trees as if daring the woods to attack him, a determined set to his stride. "It's not far up the road," Jenny said to us. "Just a few minutes and we're there." She hurried to catch up with him.

Just a few minutes? Easier said than done.

Under the broad boughs an even deader silence greeted us. No birds, no insects, just the sounds of our breathing and the faint scraping of our shoes on the asphalt. Spooky doesn't begin to describe it. I will say this; the air was at least a little fresher. The ever-lingering odor of decay that seemed to permeate the town didn't reach through the trees. Here I could smell tree sap, moldering leaves, and the humid scent of water. It was if the trees were acting as some sort of filter. I wasn't the only one that noticed. All of them were taking deep breaths and smiling. I felt like telling them that sooner or later we were going to leave the forested road and be back in the funk again. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and concentrated on not bolting like a rabbit. Considering the way my knees were knocking together every time I took a step, it wasn't easy.

The road made a gentle turn and we lost light from behind and ahead. A few rays managed to pierce the leafy ceiling, but for the most part, it was pretty dark in there. Without even being aware we were doing so, the group moved closer together and I found myself walking beside Nikki. I didn't say anything to her, and she pretended I didn't exist.

Uncomfortable situation? Oh yeah.

A sharp crackling of branches off to the left brought us to a dead stop. We grouped together tight and had every gun pointed in the direction of the sound. More movement noise, this time followed by a loud SNAP! It wasn't the wooden sound of dead limbs breaking, instead it was almost like a gigantic bear trap closing. The difference though, was that this was not mechanical. Something clicked in my skull. The sound was familiar, but I couldn't place it right then. A fuzzy image formed in my mind of working the boats as a boy. Seeing the crab boats unload the night's catch, the wooden traps stacked on the decks fore and aft, and ice filled crates of slow moving crabs climbing over each other and snapping their claws at any finger that strayed too close.

Shit on toast.

"Troy," I said, not even bothering to lower my voice. The thing out there was already aware of us, so being quiet was useless. "This is gonna be ugly."

He turned his head and looked at me with surprise. "You know what it is?"

"No," I admitted, "but whatever it is has really big claws."

"Claws?" Josh scoffed. "So it's a tiger or something?"

"Claws like a lobster, you idiot," I retorted. "That's what the snapping noise was."

Now Troy was skeptical. "It's a giant lobster?"

Not quite.

I never got a chance to answer him. At that moment a fairly tall tree right in front of us toppled over with a huge crash, and I saw that the trunk had been raggedly sliced near the ground. What crawled into sight then was a creature out of my worst B-movie nightmares.

A scorpion. The biggest, blackest, meanest looking bug I'd ever seen. It was more than ten feet long and wielded the nastiest pair of claws you could ever imagine. The jointed tail arched up far over the body, the stinger making short little jabs in the air, dripping poison from the tip. The fact that it was real defied rational belief. Scientific logic says that if insects were to grow to such size, they'd be too heavy to move. Yet this one moved with fluid and natural grace, swaying its glistening obsidian carapace from side to side as it watched us. The unblinking little eyes on the head regarded our group with emotionless anticipation. Josh shrieked like a girl and ran around behind Troy.

We, the prey, could do nothing but stand there and wait for it to attack. Wild, crazy thoughts raced through my mind. If we didn't move, would it still see us? If we did move, would it attack? If we ran, who would be the one person I needed to outrun?

I never found out. Tired of waiting, Troy acted first and unloaded an entire clip into the beast. The first salvo bounced off the armor harmlessly, but weakened it enough that the following projectiles punched through, driving the scorpion back several steps. For a brief moment, I'm sure we all thought that that would be all it took. They also had another, unforeseen consequence.

They pissed it off.

The claws clacked in a furious onslaught of clacks that was damn near deafening and was probably used to stun intended prey into helpless fear. Damned if it didn't work. I felt like a deer staring at headlights. I was stunned and could only watch as the monster charged us. Sparky let loose a series of wild barks and was gone in a flash of brown and one tucked tail. That dog was the smartest of all of us. He wanted out from the get-go. I think if Timmy'd been trapped in the well on his watch, he would've just tossed the boy a shovel and called it a day. He tore the leash from Nikki's hand and raced up the road.

Six legs churned the earth as it launched itself onto the road, the smaller claws at the end of each leg tearing into the asphalt as if it was soft butter. What would they do to human flesh?

Following Troy's lead, the rest of us opened fire. Hank and Nikki both aimed at the tail, and the combined force of the four exploding shells blasted it away. Both the stump and the severed piece spewed vile green fluid that hissed and smoked when it hit the ground. I'm not sure where the shots from my Underwood hit. I wasn't really aiming at any one specific part. Instead, I just pointed in the general vicinity of the bug and let loose, hoping I would hit something vital.

You know, looking back, it wasn't really a fair fight. Sure, it was massive and frightening, but the coalescing of our firepower basically shredded the thing before it managed to get too close. In seconds we'd reduced it to a pile of steaming pieces in a puddle of goo. Nikki covered her nose with her hand and turned away with an audible, "Ugh." Vile doesn't begin to describe the stench of the thing's guts.

Troy was looking pleased as he exchanged the exhausted ammo cartridge in his rifle for a fresh one. He winked at me. "I hate bugs," he said with a grin. Then he was sent flying as another black claw swept out from the trees behind us. He sprawled to a stop twenty yards up the road and lay still, either dead or stunned. The second scorpion lumbered into view, hissing like a steam engine and snapping its claws hard enough for us to feel the concussion of the two halves crashing together. Anything caught inside them would be sliced in half like we'd seen done to the tree just moments before.

We were all so surprised that for the first few seconds of the scorpion's appearance we just stood there like a bunch of idiots. It was Winston that finally reacted by firing his weapon and missing completely, blasting a big scar in the bark of a tree behind the monster. That was the wake-up call for the rest of us. We let loose a barrage that should have dropped it.

Yeah, right.

Troy was our guiding force, and with him out of commission we lost our cohesion. Few, if any, of our shots hit the scorpion, and it advanced confidently, waving its claws and making short jabs with its dripping stinger.

I backed up; replacing the spent clip in my Underwood until I felt and heard my boots squish into the remains of the one we'd killed. The rest of them followed me, and we lined up along the shoulder of the road. "Spread out," Hank ordered. "That might confuse it, give it too many targets."

Sounded good to me, and I was quick to put some more distance between the bug and me. Once I was sure it couldn't get to me, I took a few extra seconds to aim more carefully. The rifle butt punched into my shoulder repeatedly as I fired six rounds. At such close range I could see the holes appearing in the shell with each shot, and the effect was devastating. It didn't phase the thing, though. It lunged at Jenny, who darted out of the way and ran up the road to Troy. Hank and Nikki gave it both barrels of their shotguns, blowing a huge spray of green blood and chunks of shell. The scorpion fell back and shuddered, more pieces of its body dropping to the street. One pair of eyes was destroyed, and I could tell it was reconsidering its attack. Then it charged, heading right for Nikki, both claws snapping the air. Her eyes went wide as dinner plates when she realized that there were no more shells in her shotgun. Hank was frantically trying to reload, but there wasn't time. It was going to get her, and there was nothing we could do about it.

This time there was no Timmy and a chainsaw to protect her. In my mind I saw her cut in two by those wicked claws, lying bloody and pale in the street. My body reacted before my mind could stop it.

The heart makes you do stupid stuff sometimes. I was shouting, my throat unleashing a primal scream of rage that surprised even me.

I had twenty-four bullets in the clip, and I let the scorpion have them all. When the smoke cleared, my breathing was harsh, my throat sore, and my finger still pulling the trigger even though the clip was empty. The scorpion was a blasted and broken hulk on the road, a spreading pool of liquefied guts around it.

Her hand was on my arm, soft and gentle. I was panting like a dog on a hot day, and my arms felt like lead weights attached to my shoulders. I turned my head slowly to look at her. The smile was back on her face, and the edge had left her voice as she spoke to me. "Thanks, hero," she said.

I gave her a big dopey grin in return. "No problem. I was in the neighborhood."

I leaned down to kiss her, but she backed away several steps. "No, Jake," she said softly. "No more."

I went after her while the rest of them went to see how Troy was doing. At the moment I couldn't have cared less about the ex-ranger. "I don't think I deserve this, Nikki." I said, trying to reason with her.

She stopped but kept her back to me. "No, you don't," she said, stunning me with her agreement. "I was wrong to blame you for Timmy. There wasn't anything you could have done. It wasn't my intention to lead you on, Jake. I was lonely and scared, and..." she looked back at me over one shoulder. "You are cute," she smiled. "I needed somebody, and you were there, and I could see you needed somebody too, even if it wasn't the one you really wanted."

What the hell? "Nikki, I want you. I want us to get out of this goddamned town and be together. I mean that."

She closed her eyes and turned away from me again. "The odds are against us getting living through this, you know?" She faced me again, but her eyes were hard again and her hands were busy reloading the shotgun. "I can't allow myself to love you, Jake. I wanted to, and I wanted you to love me, but I can't love you if I have to watch you die, and I don't want you to love me and have to watch me die. In all likelihood, one of those is going to happen, and I can't face it. I just can't, Jake. Can you understand that?"

I could, and I guess she saw it. I hated it, and I wanted to argue with her, but there wasn't any point in doing so. "Okay, Nikki," I said. "I'll be here when this is over." For a moment, and for a moment only, there was a promise in here eyes. She gave me the smile she had worn when we first met. "If we make it through this, we'll talk about it. Can that be enough?"

"For now," I said, feeling good for the first time in hours.

"Good. Now let's go see how Troy is doing."

The bounty hunter was sitting up and holding his ribs. "What the hell hit me?"

Winston was checking him over, and Troy was doing his best not to scoot away to keep Holcroft's hands off him. "Nothing broken, but I imagine you'll be sore for a few days." He stood and stepped back, seemingly unruffled by Troy's reaction.

"Perfect," Troy snarled. "Help me up." He groaned as Hank and I grabbed an arm and pulled him to his feet. Josh fetched Troy's gun, holding it like it was a red-hot poker that was burning his hands. Troy snatched it away before the kid accidentally shot somebody, and Josh wandered off to poke at the scorpion remains with the toe of his sneaker. "Nice work," Troy said, admiring the ravaged pieces scattered across the road. The main bulk of the carcass dripped smoking green slime, and the once clean air was filled with an unspeakably foul stench. He placed one arm protectively over his bruised ribs, cradling the rifle in the other. "Let's move," he said. "We're almost there." I glanced up and saw the peaked gables of the Olbaid manor through the leafy ceiling above us.

Damn! How'd we get there so fast?

We wasted only a few minutes making sure all the weapons were reloaded and started up the road again. Coming around the last curve we encountered a massive iron gate and a dented red mailbox mounted on the rock wall to one side. The wall on either side of the gate towered over us, but descended to just over waist high as it went around the house and property. Not that that meant it would be easy to get over. A thick hedge had been planted behind the stone barrier, and it was at least twelve feet high. So unless you were an Olympic pole vault athlete, the only way in was through the main gate. I nudged Troy and pointed to the mailbox. Painted on the side in black paint and uneven brush strokes was a single name.

Gerhard.

Troy acknowledged it with a nod, then he walked up to the gate. The two halves were solid wrought iron and fairly impressive in their size. The bars were as thick as my wrist and just far enough apart to put your hands between them. No squeezing through here. A massive letter O had been welded dead center, and from the line running down the middle of it, it split into halves when the gate opened. Beyond the gate was a short path that was overgrown with weeds and grass and went right up to the front doors.

I'd thought the entrance to the House of Rest had been remarkable, but they paled in comparison to these. The double doors were easily ten feet in height, with small half-moon windows on each one at the top. Maybe once upon a time the glass had been clear, but now it was so aged that it had turned a sickly yellow. Mounted over the door was what I thought mistakenly at first to be a gargoyle. Squinting against the glare of the sun, I saw it was something else.

I wanted to believe it was just a gargoyle's head mounted there to ward away evil spirits, but I knew it wasn't. I'd seen enough pictures of the devil to recognize old Scratch when I saw him, and this was a good likeness. The horns swept out from the furrowed brow the entire width of the doors, and the stone eyes stared down at us. That I was in the carving's line of vision was somehow disturbing, even if it was just a sculpture. The open mouth bared sharp fangs, and for a moment I imagined I could hear the damn thing breathing.

Suddenly Biocyte seemed the better choice.

"I'm suddenly rather intrigued," Winston spoke, making all of us jump. "It seems that perhaps your decision to come here may have been the right one, Mr. Williams."

"Oh?"

"This is a very old house, much larger than the funeral home. Miss Hopper has already told us that the man who built it was something of a recluse, and rather eccentric. Perhaps there is a library here where we may find more answers, and possibly a way out."

Now I wasn't just scared, I was nervous too. Holcroft thought it was a good idea, but we should have known better. I mean, the mailbox said, 'Gerhard.' What did we think we were gonna find - a warm bed and a home cooked meal?

I didn't want to say anything, but I knew that something bad was going to happen inside that house.

Somebody was going to die.

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