The Testimony of Jacob Hollow

by Joe Joiner

Chapter 7

Stop the Presses!

They told me I wasn't out long, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but it was enough to spare me the pain of having my ribs taped. When I came to it was only slightly less painful to draw a full breath and my head was as groggy as if I'd knocked back a six-pack of potent beer. Yeah, I was a mess.

Nikki still cradled my head on her soft thighs, and I bemoaned the fact that I had to move from such a comfortable pillow, but I sat up anyway. After a second or two of dizziness I was able to open my eyes and look around.

No surprise, it was a security office like any you would find in innumerable hospitals everywhere. Two rooms, a couple of desks, and a few chairs. The only real difference I could see was that this one also contained a fair amount of old dried blood on the carpet and walls. Christ, was I ever getting tired of seeing blood. I shook my head and slowly got to my feet. Nikki helped me up, supporting me like a crutch. I spied Troy behind one of the desks cleaning his rifle, fresh bandages covering the bite on his arm that he had shown me earlier. "How ya doing, hero?" he asked with a grin.

I yawned and winced as a searing pain shot through my midsection. "Just don't make me laugh," I replied, and for some reason I was pleased with the good humor that shone in his eyes. It seemed Troy Williams had gained some respect for me in the last few hours. Man, if only he could have known how badly I was going to let him down in the near future, he probably would have shot me on the spot. But at that time we were both ignorant, and I basked in his unspoken praise like it was warm sunlight.

He wasn't the only one either. Hank and Jenny both came into the room and spoke with me, glad to see me on my feet, both concerned that maybe I hadn't slept long enough. Winston was reading again at the other desk and doing a good job of ignoring me. I suppose he was still pissed about our little tiff, and even more so because we had managed to get Nikki back unharmed. Joshua was staring holes in the wall from one of the chairs in the adjoining room, and Timmy was putting together a puzzle he had found somewhere.

"Any sign of Billy?" I asked Troy, but it was Hank who answered me.

"Nothing for awhile, but we heard noises earlier. I think he's searching for us. If he stumbles onto us, there's only one way in or out of these rooms, and we'll finish him."

"Damn, what is with that guy?" I'd seen him take a beating and almost a bullet, yet he wouldn't take the hint and leave us alone. He was like one of those flies buzzing around your head that you can never seem to swat. A really big, really ugly fly.

"The Cooper brothers were always something of a nuisance in town." Jenny spoke, and all eyes centered on her.

"You know him?" Troy was stunned.

"More by reputation than anything else. He and his brothers own a farm a few miles outside of town. They raise a few crops and a flock of chickens. They sell eggs and do odd jobs. They also drink and brawl almost every weekend. There's usually at least one of them in jail at any given time."

"Not now," Troy said. "The jail was empty except for that hitchhiker's corpse. There was no sign that anyone else had been locked up."

She shrugged. "Sheriff Harper would only hold them until they sobered up and then he'd let them out again. He thought of them as just a couple of good `ol boys who were just rambunctious. As far as I know, they've never done more than just get into fistfights. Nobody has ever been badly hurt. Something made Billy Bob cross the line."

"No kidding," I said, holding my wrapped ribs. "Looks like he got tired of bar fights and moved up to kidnapping and murder."

Jenny's expression became stricken as she remembered a vital piece of information. "The Cooper boys were never far apart, especially Billy and Basil. If you see one of them, the other is probably nearby."

"Great," Troy sneered. "Just what we need, a pair of psychos running around loose."

"More than that," Jenny added. "There's at least one other brother that I know of, but nobody's seen Jimmy in years. Most townsfolk thought he'd died and was buried on the farm."

Troy shook his head. "This just keeps getting better and better. A town full of ghosts, monsters and undead, and we have to worry about a bunch of living nutcases out to kill us as well."

"What's our next move?" I asked.

Troy snapped a clip into his assault rifle and sighted down the barrel. "Biocyte," he answered. "I've never liked running, so were going to take this fight to the source."

"So you think Biocyte is the cause of everything that's going on here?"

"It has to be," Nikki said in her soft voice from behind me. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Things didn't start getting weird in town until after Biocyte opened their doors, and then everything went to hell just shortly after they announced the decrease in electricity the town would have briefly a few days ago."

"A blackout?" Troy asked, but Nikki shook her head. "No, they warned people days in advance that there would be a significant drop in power while they conducted some kind of experiment that would eat up a lot of kilowatts. Lights would be dimmed, bad television reception, that kind of stuff."

"Must have been when they were charging the main generators, like you told me." I said, and she nodded in agreement. "Kind of a big coincidence, eh Troy?"

The dark man didn't respond, but I could tell he was mulling over what he had just learned. "Too big to disregard entirely," he said. "Looks like we're on the right track."

"There's just one problem," Jenny said, cutting him off. "The Biocyte facilities are on the opposite side of town." Troy closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"How can that be a problem?" I asked. "Castle Bay isn't that big."

"It is when you're being chased by every demon that hell can throw at you," said Hank from where he stood holding up the wall. His eyes were glazed and I knew he'd been hitting the flask again. Jesus, how much liquor did that thing hold? "Halls are clear, Troy. I think Billy has either left this area or is laying low waiting for us to come out."

"He's got a brother, Hank, maybe more than one. He's could be in the building too. Keep a sharp eye out."

Hank tipped an imaginary hat. "Will do," he drawled. "We headed out soon?"

"Yeah, as soon as Jake says he's okay to move." Hank gave him a single nod and left the room. I heard the outer office door open and close softly. He might have been buzzed, but at least he was quiet.

I wanted to do anything but leave. The doors to the security office looked pretty thick. I was willing to bet even old Billy couldn't get through them, even with his axe. We were safe, and they wanted to risk their lives going to the one place we should have been avoiding like the plague? Still, for Nikki's sake I put on an air of false bravado. "I'm cool. Do you think we'll be any safer at Biocyte? I mean, they started this shit, so wouldn't that be kind of like sticking your head in the lion's mouth after stepping over its tail?"

Troy shrugged. "I'm open for suggestions, but everyone seems to agree that's our best course of action."

I shrugged. "What the hell do I know? Let's get it over with, daylight's wasting."

The hospital was filled with the long empty silence of a tomb. The group practically tiptoed up a flight of stairs and into the main corridor. I was moving a little slower, using my right arm to shield my sprung ribs. God, every breath felt like someone was jabbing me with a fork. I held my gun, but if the need to use it came, I doubted I would be able to lift it, let alone fire the damn thing. For once Nikki had seemingly forgotten Timmy and was allowing me to use her as a crutch, with my left arm around her shoulders for support. I could have moved on my own, but just getting her away from that little creep was worth milking my minor injury. Timmy walked ahead of us, holding his bat and occasionally looking back over his shoulder to cast a murderous stare my way. Somehow Nikki never saw him do it. Every time he did I grinned like a chimp.

When we passed the door where Nikki had been grabbed Troy took extra precautions, making sure Hank was right with him and covering the door until the rest of us had gone by. The big Texan was upset that he hadn't got to shoot Billy. In his vernacular, "Layin' hands on that pretty gal makes that boy deservin' of an ass-whuppin,'" or something to that effect. Hank liked Nikki. He was polite but distant with Jenny, probably in deference to her and Troy's unspoken pairing, but I got the definite impression he didn't care for her very much.

We made it to the main lobby without anything jumping out, which was a huge relief. Billy wasn't waiting for us, but there were signs that he and his bad temper had been there, and recently. More furniture had been overturned or broken, and there were large footprints in the dust and broken glass. Unable to find us, he'd smashed the place up some more to vent his frustration. It appeared that he had then given up looking and gone back to wrestle the pigs, or something worse. I relaxed a little and some of the pain went away. God, was I tense. We stepped through the shattered doors and out into the open again. We'd been inside the hospital for little more than an hour, but it had seemed like days.

Outside the sunlight was very bright, much brighter than I thought normal. The sun was a blazing ball of fire in the sky, but it was surprisingly cool. It could have been beautiful if not for the stench of mildew and decay that seemed to permeate everything. A large garden of decorative flower we passed should have surrounded us with sweet fragrances, but the pungent odor of overripe meat was predominant and killed any other scent. Everyone tried not to breathe too deeply.

Halfway across the parking lot I let go of Nikki. Moving again had got my blood circulating and I really didn't need her to carry me along like an infant. Timmy was staring through his thick lenses and clenching his hands around the handle of the bat and staring into a small grove of fruit trees across the street. I knew how weird the kid was, so I should have realized he sensed something, but Timmy was pretty easy to dismiss if you weren't paying attention to him. I noticed Winston had found a backpack that seemed to be weighing him down. I guessed the Mortis Arcanum was inside.

They rushed us from the trees lining Gardner Avenue once we stepped onto the asphalt. The street was the point of no return, the hospital too far behind us to make a break for cover. That those... things, could think and plan that way still frightens me. I don't know if they were ghouls or zombies or something never seen before, but what I can tell you is that there was a dozen of them, and their eyes burned red as if their blood was on fire. They howled and shrieked as they ran toward us, hands extended and brandishing claws never meant to grace the end of a human's fingers. Both Jenny and Nikki cried out, and Troy was firing his rifle before the rest of us men knew what was going on. Every bullet hit a target dead on, snapping back heads and blowing out the back of several skulls.

It didn't faze those that weren't hit. They came at us in a determined charge of sheer insanity, leaping over the fallen and snarling. Hank and Winston both brought up their weapons and started shooting, killing several more. Hank shotgun blasted a couple of them in half, and to our horror the separated halves kept moving, the torsos dragging themselves toward us, their innards leaving bloody trails. Only until Troy put bullets into their brains did they stop. I got three of them myself, a little surprised that I could actually hit anything. I felt a twinge of guilt as one of my shots took what had been a pretty young girl in the eye. She stumbled and fell, her left arm folding under her, and I heard the dull snap of the bone breaking. She slid across the asphalt, the rough surface shredding one side of her face before she came to a stop. I swallowed back bile and looked for another target. There weren't many left.

Timmy ran up behind Troy, his bat ready to swing. For a moment I thought for sure that the kid was going to brain our fearless leader when his back was turned. I even lifted my gun and centered the sight on the back of the kid's head. Nikki shouted for him to come back, but the boy wasn't listening. He jogged spryly around the big man and swung at the next creature. It dodged the blow and backed off growling at him. It was a kid not much older than Timmy, still wearing jeans and sneakers, but that was all that was left of its humanity. It was down on all fours, growling and hissed, drooling like a feral beast as it feinted to one side, then it charged in before Troy could take aim.

Timmy only got one hit in before the bat snapped, but it was a home run. It connected with that boy's skull and the crack of impact was almost as loud as a gun going off. The blow actually knocked the eyeballs right out of the skull and sent blood, bones and brains in a spray. Timmy spat on the corpse as it collapsed.

When the smoke cleared I saw that all of our attackers were sprawled around us. Thanks to our superior firepower, none had managed to make it close enough to even scratch us. Nikki nudged my arm and lifted her chin toward where Timmy stood glaring down at the remains of the boy he had killed. She touched his shoulder and he jumped. "Did you know him?" she asked.

"His name was Blake," he answered, and there was no mistaking the raw hatred in his voice. "He liked to knock my books out of my hand and trip me in the lunchroom." He drew back his foot and kicked what was left of Blake in the ribs. I heard bones crunch. "Bastard," he sneered. The bully had gotten his comeuppance. Having been the target of a few bullies in my youth, I couldn't help but grin.

"They're getting bolder," Troy said as he put in a fresh clip. "A few days ago and they wouldn't have come out in the sunlight."

"It's like they're getting stronger," Hank observed.

Winston was reloading his revolver. "The evil in Castle Bay is the source of their strength. As its power grows, so does the strength of the creatures it spawns."

Troy sighed. "That can't be good," he said resignedly. "I wish I could say that I disagreed with you, Winston, but I can't. Everything we've seen tells me that things aren't getting better."

We got moving again, reloading as we walked, and leaving behind a half-circle of unimaginable carnage. Dark blood pooled across the pavement and through the twisted remnants of the poor insane creatures that had attacked us. Troy took the lead and was now even more watchful than before. The hard set of his jaw was a clear indication that he wasn't going to be surprised a second time.

Our little group made a quick jog down Gardner to where it intersected Main, and there we turned north and the road took us back into the town proper. I found it hard to believe that little more than twenty-four hours earlier, my life and been completely ordinary, even dull perhaps. Now I was fighting for my life in a place where reality didn't seem to make sense anymore, and I was scared out of my freaking mind. Nikki walked next to me, and that was a small comfort. Timmy had fallen in behind Troy, who ignored his new shadow. Without his only weapon, it was no wonder that he chose to stay close to the strongest member of the group. Occasionally he shot a glance back at Nikki, but for the most part he seemed willing to let us alone for a while. That suited me fine.

We almost passed Earp's Hardware & Sporting Goods until Troy paused and reconsidered. His expression was thoughtful as he tried the door. It was unlocked, and we made a quick raid. After scouting it out for hidden nasties, we made our way to the back. Typical of such small town stores, that was where we found the weapons. Everyone stocked up on ammunition, and I helped Nikki pick out a nice Browning Citory over and under shotgun. The price tag was close to thirteen hundred dollars, and it could have taken down a charging rhino. Troy examined it and gave his approval. Nikki hefted it with a grin, then grabbed a backpack and started filling it with shells. I pitied whatever happened to get on the business end of that gun.

Timmy tried to help himself to a pistol, but Troy snatched it out of his hands. "When hell freezes over, kid," he said. "Go get another bat."

The boy tried to stare him down but Troy didn't flinch, and he slunk off to pout. I couldn't have agreed more. Timmy with a bat was bad enough. Timmy with a gun would make me lose what little sleep I was likely to get.

We also stocked up on camping gear, lanterns, matches, a canteen for each of us, and a good supply of heavy-duty flashlights and batteries. We all helped ourselves to a backpack and filled them with our new goodies. The ready availability of so many necessities made me realize just how quickly the end had come for Castle Bay. The fact that we seemed to be the first to go there said a lot about how few managed to survive. On the verge of leaving, Troy suddenly darted into the back room. Thinking he had heard something, I cautiously followed.

He wasn't hard to find. Behind the counter and the shelves full of merchandise was a nice office. Troy was there, his back to me. He was holding a rifle of some kind and chuckling. I stepped up to the door and knocked softly so not to startle him. "Troy?"

He turned and I was relieved to see him grinning almost ear-to-ear. "I knew it," he said, holding up the weapon.

"Knew what?"

"The name of this store and that fancy shotgun Nikki has made me think that maybe the owner was a gun nut. I found this in the gun cabinet. It's a Russian AK-47. They don't come much meaner than this, and you don't find too many of them that are fully automatic anymore."

I admired it. "Nice piece. Any other toys?"

He nodded. "There's an antique Underwood thirty caliber in there as well. It's World War two issue, probably a souvenir. I checked it out and it's in good shape. Only semi-auto, but it's a damn good gun. Help yourself."

I did, stepping over the body of the owner of the store (face down, thank God), and immediately felt like a one-man army. The rifle must have been restored in the last few years. Once the dust had been blown off it gleamed wickedly. I was almost looking forward to the next critter that screwed with us. On the shelf above it I found three clips that held thirty rounds each and were already loaded. I stuffed them into my backpack. Troy was still grinning. "We should both grab a few more boxes of shells, just to be safe," he said.

I grinned back. "Can't be too sure, eh boss?"

He clapped me on the back and I felt the friendship suddenly solidify. I was very glad he was the man in charge. With him guiding us we were sure to survive. On the way out I happened to glance at the desk and froze. Troy saw I wasn't with him and came back. "What's up?" he asked.

I held up the note I'd found. It was hurriedly written, and the letters were crude and almost illegible... They are at Grave's End. "What do you make of this?"

He frowned. "Another piece of a very big puzzle. Put that out of sight somewhere. We'll show it to them later. Maybe Winston will have an idea."

When we emerged from the back I found a worried Nikki waiting for us. "What is it?" I asked, almost afraid to hear her answer.

"Timmy," she said. "He's... found something to replace his bat."

Troy hissed through his teeth. "If that little shit has a gun I'll shoot him myself."

Nikki stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. "He doesn't have a gun," she said quickly, "but it's almost as bad."

I couldn't imagine anything as frightening as Timmy with a gun until I saw him holding that chainsaw. It was one of the smaller models, gas powered and lightweight. He brandished it with a snarl of ferocity on his pimpled face as if daring someone to take it away from him. Troy smirked and let the matter go with a shrug. I wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of something so deadly in the kid's hands, but if he tried to use it on any of us, at least we would hear him coming. "Let him have it, Nikki," I said, leaning close to her and whispering in her ear. "I doubt he can even start it." She still wore that maternal expression of concern, but she appeared to relax a little at my words.

Loaded for bear and weighted down, we exited Earp's and continued up the street. The sun was almost directly overhead, indicating midday. Had we been in there that long? I was behind Nikki and enjoying the view when I almost looked at my watch. I remembered it didn't work, but Winston caught me in the act. He ambled closer, and I got my first look at the new Remington 30.06 rifle he had chosen. "Doesn't feel like noon, does it?" he asked. I guess our little tiff in the hospital was forgotten. Good, that made one less person to worry about shooting me in my sleep.

"No. It only feels like a couple of hours since we left the funeral home. Time sure flies."

"Ridiculous," he scoffed. "I've always trusted my inner clock more than any watch, and it has not been any longer than what you think."

"Then how do you explain that?" I asked him, pointing to the sun.

He shrugged. "I think part of what occurred at Biocyte may have also messed with stability of time in this area. I'm coming to believe that the days are moving faster, and we just haven't realized it. It's quite possible that very soon Castle Bay will lay in an everlasting darkness."

I almost tripped over my own feet. What he was suggesting was so farfetched and terrifying it boggled the mind. Then again, was it any stranger than monster dogs, maniacal doctors and zombies? "How can that be? Wouldn't somebody outside of town notice if the days were getting shorter?"

He chewed on that for a moment while we marched. Then he shouldered his rifle and put on his professor face. "I never said that it was happening anywhere else," he said, his voice low. "Consider the fog that surrounds this town. Perhaps it is more than just a barrier. I'm going to go speak to Mr. Williams. Excuse me." That said he moved away, leaving me one hell of a bone for me to gnaw on.

Two blocks from Earp's we were about to pass the offices of the Castle Bay Gazette when Troy suddenly stopped. He had been talking with Winston and now had that thoughtful look on his face again. He waved us in close. "Winston thinks we should at least give the paper a once over and see if some of the past issues can give us some clue as to what was going on here before Doomsday hit. Any objections?"

No one said anything, but I glanced at the sun and saw that it had moved even further on its path across the sky. I wondered how much daylight we had left. Troy caught me looking at the sky. "We'll keep it short, Jake. No more than fifteen minutes, okay?" Winston had obviously told him his suspicions.

I nodded, but that same feeling of dread I'd experienced outside the hospital was back, making my temples throb and my palms clammy. While I'd felt nothing outside of Earp's, this time I knew something bad was going to happen on the other side of that door. Did I speak up? Of course not. Typical of my nature I kept my mouth shut and gripped my new rifle even tighter.

The doors were unlocked; more proof that the events that had destroyed the town had taken place suddenly, and in the daytime. Hank held upon the door while Troy went in. We watched him look around the lobby, checking behind the receptionist's desk, then down a short hallway lined with offices on either side. Satisfied, he waved us in without looking back.

Inside it was a few degrees cooler than out on the sidewalk, but the same smell was still there. I don't think my sense of smell ever adapted, because it was always present no matter where you went. There was some disarray, but no major damage like we had seen at the hospital. One overturned chair and a phone off the hook were about it. A few open windows and the breeze moving through the place easily explained the papers scattered around the lobby and hall. No blood, no signs of violence. So why was my heart beating like a rabbit's?

Troy came back. "The offices are empty, except for the big one, and there's a dead man in there. Looks like he's been there for a while too. I think that last door goes into the printing room, but I didn't want to check alone. Hank, Jake and I will check out the printing room, the rest of you find the back issues and see if they can give us some clues." Great, why couldn't I get library duty? Help rescue the fair lady and suddenly I'm a hero. If Troy had only known.

The rest of them did as they were told without argument, and the three of us crept back down the hallway to the last door. Some morbid impulse of curiosity made me glance into the editor's office. His corpse was slumped over the desk much like Ripley's had been, except for the large hole in his skull. He'd been clubbed to death, and the results of that beating had pooled across the desktop. Violence and evil were thick in that place. It was an assault on my senses just to be there. My arms were covered in goosebumps and it felt like the hair on the back of my neck was standing straight out. My spine was tingling, but whether in response to a presence that only I sensed, or from terror I can't be sure.

One of these days I'm going to learn to trust my instincts.

Troy opened the door to the big room that housed the printing press. I don't know why I expected the lights to come on when he tried the switch, but of course the power was off here as well. He turned on his flashlight and used it to look around. "Wow, that's huge," he said. Looking past him I could see the mountainous bulk of the press. It stretched the length of the room to our left, but the light didn't shine all the way to the end where the massive rolls of paper waited to be turned into newsprint. Once filled with deafening roars and clanks, the printing room was now as silent as an Egyptian tomb, and twice as eerie. To our right was a solitary desk with an engraved nameplate mounted on the front that said SUPERVISOR.

"Any good reason to go in there?" I whispered to Troy.

He shone the beam at the stack of bundled papers stacked at the end of the press closest to us. "Those are reason enough," he replied and stepped inside. Hank and I followed, if a bit reluctantly, our steps echoing in the large room. I was shaking all over, barely able to hold my rifle and afraid I was going to trip over my own feet and shoot ether Hank or Troy in the back.

Troy had reached the stack of papers and had cut the twine binding them. He scanned the date and frowned. "That can't be right," he mumbled. "Hey guys, how long did Winston say Ripley had been dead?"

Hank shrugged. "Three weeks, I think."

"Yeah," I added. "That sounds right. Why?"

He held up the top paper. I noticed it was a small thing, maybe only four or five pages, typical small town edition. No doubt filled with recipes and ads for farm equipment and animals. "The date is only a week ago," he said. "Which means..."

"Which means Ripley was killed before the town was shut off from the rest of the world," Hank finished for him. "There's a murderer on the loose."

"Damn it," Troy spat, "that's all we need. I think we'd better..." He didn't get to finish what he was saying. To our surprise and amazement the entire bundle of papers suddenly levitated off the floor. It began to spin, gradually picking up speed until the loose ends of the stacks began to flap. Then it exploded into confetti. An ungodly shriek of insane laughter pierced the quiet and made our ears ring. We stood there frozen, unsure of what to do next. Then I saw what I can only describe as a glowing mist swoop down from the ceiling and grab Hank. It swung him around and threw him back into the hall. Troy shouted, "Hank!" and made to go after him, but he was batted aside, falling against the other stacks of paper and crashing to the floor. His arms flailed wildly as the bundles crashed onto him like an avalanche.

Alarmed voices from the front as the noise reached our companions. They rushed down the hall with weapons drawn, Josh lagging behind as usual. As for me, I stood there stupidly watching it all without even trying to do anything. I was completely frozen in either shock or fear. I wanted to shoot, but when the only target was some vapor, how much damage would bullets do?

The rest of the group poured into the printing room, eyes wide and searching for our attacker, which had vanished. Joshua helped Jenny extradite Troy from the mound of paper he was buried under, and Hank came back rubbing his arm and swearing. In the limited radiance from the flashlights they all looked fatigued. I wasn't the only one growing weary of new surprises.

"What happened?" Jenny asked Troy as she checked him for injuries.

"Damned if I know. Something grabbed Hank and then swatted me like a bug. I didn't see what it was. How about you, Jake?"

"I saw a greenish mist." In fact, I was still looking for it. I didn't want it to touch me.

"A mist?" Holcroft asked. He spun that around in his head and then said, "Indeed."

"Spit it out, Winston," Troy said, and by his tone he didn't want the long version.

Winston opened his mouth but whatever words he was going to say were cut off by another burst of maniacal laughter that seemed to come from everywhere. The door to the printing room slammed shut, then banged opened violently before slamming shut again. Then the rest of the doors down the hall followed suit in a loud chorus of bangs and squealing hinges. "I believe there's a poltergeist here," Holcroft finally said, raising his voice over the noise.

"A what?" Josh asked, ducking as a flapping binder flew past his head. I silently encouraged whatever it was to improve its aim.

"A poltergeist. A mischievous manifestation of spiritual energy. There are well documented cases of such occurrences, but I doubt any of them would match the ferocity we are witnessing today." A blizzard of torn paper whirled up off the floor and Winston was surrounded by a spinning whirlwind of newsprint. He calmly stepped through it and brushed off his jacket. He even managed to look annoyed. The spinning mass shifted and moved towards Jenny and Troy.

"What do we do?" the ranger demanded.

Holcroft's left eyebrow lifted in what I had come to call his 'I'm smarter than you' expression. "Ignore it," he said. "While what we are seeing could be called frightening, think of it as nothing more than an elaborate party trick."

The tornado petered out as he spoke and the room went quiet. Troy and Jenny shared a look between them and then we all turned to Winston. "Should I be impressed?" Jenny asked.

He responded with a curt bark of laughter. "Hardly. In fact, I think we should prepare for something more heinous. No spirit likes to me made light of."

"Meaning what?" Hank continued to rub his arm and grimace. A hand-shaped bruise was forming around his bicep.

Troy answered him. "Meaning his little jibe probably pissed that thing off. Right?"

"Most likely, Mr. Williams. While what it has shown us so far is interesting, you can be certain that it has not given up. It might be a good idea to leave before it become more creative. Or deadly," he added.

"Not until we get what we came for," Troy said loudly, as if daring the spirit to argue.

I sensed a dull vibration under my feet. It started gradually, and then settled into a steady hum. Nobody else seemed to have noticed because it was very faint, reminding me of when I was on a ship, walking the decks late at night when it was quiet, and finding comfort in the dull throb of the engines below my feet. Then I saw the lamp on the desk near the door begin to glow until it brightened. "What the hell?" Jenny was staring at the light as if she'd never seen anything like it before. Of course, it had been some time since any of us had seen working electricity, so it was an attention getter.

"Generator," I said. "I can feel it. This building has an independent power source, probably outside or in the basement." The fluorescents started to flicker, and then the entire room was bathed in harsh white light.

"Damn," Troy growled. "This'll draw every critter for miles."

Winston straightened his tie. "Would this be a bad time to again suggest that we depart?"

As much as Troy hated agreeing with Holcroft, he wasn't stupid. This was going from bad to worse fast. "No more arguments from me," he said.

Again, something in my sailor's instincts made me turn around while the rest were watching the big machine. What I saw made my blood turn to ice.

The corpse from the office was standing in the door. In one pale hand it held a letter opener, and in the other a golf club. Even though the head hung loosely on the shoulders, its face was hideous, frozen in a scowling mask of death made even worse by the dried blood that covered half of it. The wound on the skull gaped like an open mouth, and what few brains remained inside sloshed around as it took two tentative steps toward Nikki. Slowly the hand holding the letter opener lifted, and in a few more steps it would have plunge the blade into her back.

Like hell. I lifted my rifle, spun around in place and fired.

They all jumped as if they'd been goosed by the devil himself. The shot took the corpse high in the left shoulder. It stumbled back but regained its footing and kept coming. It was too late though. My shot had alerted them to the danger, and once they got over the shock, the shots rang out in earnest.

I don't know how many slugs that thing took, but all they did was slow it down a little. We spread out and shot as it advanced, filling the area with gun smoke. Many of the shots went right through the walking cadaver, but none of the wounds bled. He'd been dried out for some time. Shirt smoking and full of ragged holes, it continued to walk stiffly. Actually, it was following Nikki. No matter which way she turned, it altered its direction and kept shuffling toward her. Pretty soon she had backed halfway down the bulk of the press, and the corpse's back was to us. We stopped shooting for fear we might hit her.

Of course, Winston figured it out first. "The poltergeist is animating it!" he yelled. "Bullets aren't going to stop it!"

I saw Troy shoulder his rifle and pull a wickedly long knife from under his coat and hold it out. You could tell he wasn't looking forward to dismembering the thing with his bare hands, but it was probably going to come to that. He took a deep breath and started toward it but froze as a high-pitched whine started up behind the group. He glanced back and his eyes went comically wide.

We had all forgotten Timmy.

His expression was full of determination as he ran past Troy and attacked the corpse. That boy was terrified at first, but once he had that chainsaw in his hands he was a terror to be reckoned with. Cloth and chunks of flesh and meat flew as the saw tore into the former editor. The arm holding the blade was the first appendage to hit the floor. Once separated it fell to the floor with a meaty thump and stopped moving. The corpse turned to the boy and the golf club made a lazy swing at his head. He ducked the blow easily before plunging the shredding blade deep into the body cavity.

The corpse began to gyrate as Timmy worked the blade up the torso, the blade cutting through bone and organs like a hot knife through butter, showering him with stinking and wretched gore. Then the blade caught on something it couldn't cut through and the chainsaw was wrenched from Timmy's hands as the motor died. The cadaver swayed drunkenly before falling to the floor. It brushed Timmy as it crumpled, knocking him against the press where he caught himself. The glowing mist I'd seen earlier jetted from the gaping wound and vanished. I looked at Timmy with newfound respect. Score one for nerds everywhere.

Where before we'd heard the thing laughing, now it screamed in anger at being thwarted. Objects flew around the room. Tools, papers, clipboards, you name it. I barely managed to avoid a stapler that went by my head like a comet. We were witnessing a spectral temper tantrum. All the while, even with things shooting around the room like missiles, Timmy stood there looking very pleased with himself and smirking at me. I suppose in his mind he had supplanted my place as the hero that saved the girl.

In a different place and time that might have been the end of it, but this was no ordinary town, and the poltergeist wasn't giving up so easily.

The gigantic press roared to life, making all of us jump about a foot. "Holy shit!" Joshua shouted. I couldn't have agreed more.

We all stared dumbfounded as the huge rolls of paper began to turn and feed into the press. Freshly printed editions began to stack up where we'd come in and spill off onto the floor. Then Timmy shrieked.

Timmy's shirt must have been caught in the printing press, but none of us turned it on. We tried to turn it off, but it was too late. His shirttail snagged in one of the drive belts and jerked him back hard enough that the impact against the press drove the air from his lungs. He hung there for a moment, gasping like a fish out of water. Troy ran for what he thought was the control panel and began to punch buttons, including a large red one marked OFF. None had any effect. In the meantime, Nikki grabbed Timmy and tried to pull him away from the machine, but the material of his shirt was cinched too tight around him and wouldn't tear. "Nikki!" he bleated as the machine's grasp only tightened. His feet were yanked up off the floor and he threw himself toward Nikki. Hank and Winston both rushed over and took hold of an arm, trying to break him free.

I stood behind them, unsure of what to do, feeling helpless. Call it a flash of intuition, but I knew that this was a battle we weren't going to win.

All of the color had drained from Timmy's face as he realized it too. "Please," he cried softly, and a single tear dropped onto his cheek. "I don't want to die, Nikki," he moaned. "Don't let it eat me."

Nikki was crying now, tears pouring from her as she screamed his name over and over. Troy figured out the control panel was bewitched and rushed over with his knife to cut the boy free. One slash from the blade would sever the machine's grip and save the day.

Too late.

The mist suddenly returned, diving between Timmy and his would-be rescuers. An ear piercing shriek and some invisible force blew them back as if they'd all been punched. They hit the concrete six feet away. Nikki was back on her feet and screaming as she fought a presence that held her and the others back. Timmy screamed as the machine drew him in with enough force to flip him over. A flailing hand caught one the safety bars on the edge of the press and he gripped it even as his legs were sucked between the rollers.

White paper turned red as bone crunched. Blood sprayed from between the solid steel cylinders and Timmy's wail of pain cut us all to our souls. I hated the kid, but no one deserved to die that way. It had to have been excruciating. You could see in his eyes that Timmy knew the end had come for him. His expression suddenly went slack despite the unbearable pain, whether from acceptance of his fate or blood loss I couldn't say. He let go of the rail with a whimper.

Nikki screamed as he was sucked in. The entire press shook and jumped as it chewed on the object lodged in its throat. Almost everyone turned away, unwilling to watch the end. I couldn't tear my eyes away even though my stomach roiled at the sight of him being drawn further into the inner workings of the press. Was he dead by then? I wasn't sure. By the time it had swallowed his legs he was hanging limply, arms and head down. Blood was dripping from the machine in rivulets and pooling on the floor. More of it was spraying straight up and coating the ceiling with small red droplets. No one could lose that much blood and still remain conscious. When his hips were pulled in his spine arched back and he jerked upright. The steel rollers compressed his stomach and his upper torso began to bulge from the pressure of his inner organs being squeezed up into his ribcage. "Oh, that's gross," Joshua said, and I saw that he was watching Timmy die with the same morbid fascination I was.

Then Timmy's head swiveled around and his eyes bored into mine. He was still alive somehow, and the hatred and malevolence toward me were undisguised. His lips moved soundlessly but I had no trouble understanding what he said. -I'm coming back for you- That scared me. In this town it was entirely possible. Then his throat bulged and he vomited huge gouts of blood and guts onto the machine. I saw the life fade from his eyes. Then he was drawn in up to his neck with a sickening series of cracks as his ribcage collapsed and was pulverized. For a moment I thought his head would be the only thing that the press couldn't devour, but I was wrong. The rollers jumped apart and then closed with a snap, bursting his skull like an overripe melon and splashing his brains onto the floor. They landed with a disgusting plop by my feet, and I came very close to puking all over them. Knowing Nikki wouldn't want to see what was left of the boy, I gave the pile of pink goo a gentle kick and it slid beneath the press. My stomach did a flip-flop and I backed away, trying not to look at the new stain on the toe of my boot.

The press continued to operate for a moment longer, then shut down with an almost audible sigh. Silence fell like a curtain, leaving only Nikki's muffled sobs to echo in the stillness. Joshua smirked. "Think it'll burp now?" he asked me. I was too stunned by his indifference to answer, but Nikki did it for me. She spun on her heel and walloped the punk with an uppercut Ali would have been proud of. His eyes rolled back and he dropped like a rock. Poor Josh, two beatings in as many days. I almost smiled, but I knew it was up to me to comfort Nikki. I went over and tried to put my arms around her, but she threw me off and when she turned to face me the fury in her eyes was clear. "Where were you?" she screamed at me. "Why didn't you help us?"

"I-I... c-c-couldn't..." I stammered. "I was too far away, and you and Hank and Winston were already there and I couldn't have done any more than they did." It was a weak excuse and she knew it.

"At least they tried!" she yelled. "You wanted him to die! You hated him! You always hated him! You goddamn coward!" The slap hurt, making my head ring. I shook away the stars and tried not to notice the heat that was rising in my face. Joshua was smirking.

She was right, but I wasn't going to admit it. Something told me our little romance had ended. Nikki was never going to forgive me for not trying to help the boy. She turned away and moved off as Troy came over and put his hand on my shoulder. "You couldn't have done anything, Jake," he said. "She knows that. She's just upset. We all are. What a horrible way to die." Nice words, small comfort, but I appreciated his effort. I decided to change the subject. "What about Josh?" Hank and Winston were already dragging him from the printing room by his arms.

He almost smiled. "Some assholes never know when to keep quiet. Give Nikki some time, Jake. She'll come around."

"Somehow I doubt that."

He moved off. With the soles of my feet I felt the generator stutter and die. The lights winked out, but since our flashlights were still on we could still see after our eyes adjusted. The spirit must have been satisfied with Timmy's death and had left. I couldn't sense it anymore. The objects that had been flying through the room now littered the floor haphazardly. I maneuvered through the mess and made my way into the hall with the rest of them. They were gathered by the door and talking in low tones. "It's impossible," Hank was saying in disbelief. "We haven't been in here that long!"

Looking past them I could see what he was talking about. Dusk was upon the town and the light was fading as the fog crept in.

Night was falling.