The Burning Time (30 page)

Danni sat up. He expected to see anger on her face, but her expression was more sad than hurt, as if she already knew there was no point in arguing, but had to try anyhow.

“You mean you don’t want to put
yourself
through it. Everyone’s lost people they love, John. We have. You have. It’s not fun. In fact, it really sucks. But what you’re doing is worse in the long run, because you end up with all the heartache and pain of being alone, without experiencing the good parts, the companionship and love.”

John shook his head. “It’s more complicated than that. My job, my life, brings me into constant contact with things most people don’t even believe in. Dangerous things. Is that the kind of life you want, the kind of man you want? Never knowing how long I’ll be gone for, or if I’ll even come back?”

“Is that any more dangerous than being married to a cop? Or a fireman? Or a soldier?” Danni’s lips thinned out, a sure sign her earlier compassion was turning into annoyance. “Hell, just going to work each day can be dangerous, what with all the crazy drivers and mental cases shooting up buildings.”

“It’s not the same.” Even as he said it, John knew how weak it sounded, knew Danni was right, he was thinking only of himself.
I can’t take losing anyone again.

“Bullshit.” Danni jumped from the bed, her face flushed from more than just the heat. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s all just excuses.” She turned and walked toward the door. Before she left, she looked back at him.

“The thing is, you’re hurting yourself, and you don’t even realize it.”

Then she was gone, leaving John alone with the ghosts of his past and the memory of Danni’s hands on his chest.

For the first time since losing Clara and Jack, he found himself wondering if maybe he didn’t have to be alone forever.

*   *   *

Danni’s scream ended abruptly as the green tentacles, each as thick as a man’s thigh and covered in circular mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth, wrapped around her and dragged her under the water. John stood at the edge of the river and watched helplessly as the water roiled and bubbled where the unseen monster had taken her. He wanted to dive in after her, but his body refused to move. In the far depths of his mind he understood he wasn’t really there, but it didn’t stop him from trying to break free from the spell and leap into the river, tear the beast apart with his bare hands if he had to.

More bubbles rose up, and even in the darkness of the moonless night he saw the color of the water change, grow blacker as Danni’s blood spread across the surface. An irregular white shape bobbed up and drifted toward him. John tried to close his eyes, not wanting to see the thing, but he had no more control over them than he did the rest of his body.

The object drew closer, and a sick feeling churned his stomach as he recognized it as a piece of a human leg, the foot still attached. A pink flip-flop sandal, identical to the ones Danni had been wearing when she left his bedroom that night, still clung to the foot.

“Danni!” he shouted. The only answer the river gave was a bubbling of released gasses as more body parts floated up. One of them rolled over, and Danni’s face stared at him, its twisted expression revealing the agony she’d felt as the monster tore her apart.

“No! No!—”

“No!” John sat up in bed, his cry still echoing in his ears. His sweat-covered body shook from the nightmare, and his heart pounded so hard he felt his arms vibrating from the force of it. He glanced out the window, saw it was still night.

Danni!

Something about the nightmare seemed too real. He leaped from the bed and raced down the hall to her room.

Her bed! Empty! No, it can’t be happening. I can’t let it. I won’t!

Remembering the other women who’d supposedly committed suicide in the river, John wasted no time running downstairs, not even bothering to put on shoes or wake Mitch. He paused just long enough to grab Danni’s keys off the rack and then hurried to the Mustang. It was less than ten miles to the bridge where the other girls had jumped, but there was no telling when Danni had left the house. As he drove down the deserted Main Street, he cursed himself for not considering Christian might do something like this.

I was a fool, and now it might cost Danni her life.

At that moment, he understood the mistake he’d made earlier, of not accepting Danni’s invitation. The fact was, he loved her. Mitch, too. And it made no difference if he expressed that love or kept it hidden. If anything happened to them, the loss would be just as painful, so why shouldn’t he allow himself to feel their love in return, share lives with them? Why take the bad but not the good?

“That’s what I’ve waited to hear.”

John’s hands twitched on the wheel.
Clara?

No one answered, leaving John wondering if she’d really spoken to him again or if it was just his subconscious letting him know she wouldn’t be upset with him.

None of it will matter if I don’t get there in time.

He pressed down harder on the gas, unconcerned about getting a speeding ticket at that hour of the morning. He went over the Main Street Bridge and then turned left onto the Five Mile Road. As he approached the Five Mile Bridge, he saw a figure silhouetted on the edge, arms spread wide.

No! I’m too late!
Refusing to admit defeat, John drove onto the bridge. Just as he reached her, she stepped off and disappeared.

“Danni!” Without pause, John climbed over the barrier and dove, the expanding circle of wavelets from Danni’s entry serving as his target.

He hit at a slight angle, the water slapping his face like a giant hand. The air exploded from his lungs in a mass of bubbles, and he fought his way back to the surface for a gasping breath before diving back down into the murky river. Hoping he hadn’t strayed too far from where Danni landed, he felt around blindly with his hands while forcing his way deeper. Just when he feared he might have to go up for more air, one of his flailing hands struck something soft but firm. He grabbed it before it moved away, and kicked for the surface, feeling the drag of something heavy behind him.

As soon as his face broke the surface, he gulped in air and then pulled up the object he’d been towing. In the near-dark, he saw a leg, a pink sandal on its foot, and for a moment he feared he’d been too late after all, that his nightmare had come true. Then the rest of her body rose up, all parts still attached. He lifted her head from the water and began side-stroking his way to shore. When his feet touched soft mud, he switched his grip and pushed Danni’s body forward, half-crawling and half-swimming behind her.

Just a few feet from shore, fiery pain burst to life in John’s calf. He leaped forward as something cold and slimy brushed against his legs. Images of monstrous tentacles appeared in his mind, and he dragged Danni’s body out of the water, ignoring the pain spreading up his leg until they were both well away from the river’s edge. After checking to make sure nothing had followed them out of the water, he placed two fingers on Danni’s neck and found a ragged pulse. Turning her on her side, he pounded her back until her body spasmed in a series of wracking coughs and she spit several mouthfuls of water onto the muddy soil.

Her lungs clear, Danni fell back, gulping air. Only then did John reach down and feel the circular wound in his calf. Blood and water ran down his leg and foot, and he had to grit his teeth against the pain as his fingers probed the bite. Confident the creature’s teeth hadn’t severed any vital vessels or tendons, John returned his attention to Danni, who was slowly recovering her breath.

“Are you all right?” He took her hand as he asked, and she clutched at it gratefully.

“Yeah, I think so. My shoulder hurts like hell, but other than that...What happened?” She turned and spit sand and water, wiped her mouth with her free hand, and then spit again.

“You don’t remember?”

She started to shake her head and then stopped. “I...I was dreaming. I was so sad. He told me everything would be all right. All I had to do was go to you. You would be waiting for me, at the river. And you were. You held out your arms...” She paused, her brow furrowed in concentration. “That’s all. The next thing I knew, everything was dark and cold, and I couldn’t breathe.”

“You jumped into the river.”

“Jumped into the?...That’s what he did to all those other women, isn’t it?” Her voice trailed off as a series of shivers wracked her body.

“Yes.” John put his arms around her and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you back home.”

“You’re limping,” Danni said, as John guided her up the embankment toward the bridge.

“It’s nothing. Just a cut. I’ll clean it when we get home.” He’d do more than clean the creature’s bite. He’d sterilize the hell out of it.

Danni stopped and clutched at John’s shirt. “What about Mitch? You didn’t leave him home, did you?”

“Don’t worry, he’s fine,” John said. “He was sound asleep when I left, and all the wards are in place around the house. Nothing can get in. That’s why Christian had to draw you out when you were asleep.”

“He could do the same thing to Mitch!”

“I don’t think so. ‘
He makes the river call the lovers.’
That’s a line from an ancient tale of the Stranger. His spell only works on hearts saddened by lost or unrequited love.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault. And it doesn’t matter now. His plan failed. He’ll have to try something else.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, both of them wondering the same thing.

What would that something else be?

And would they be as lucky next time?

He brings a shaking to the earth

He speaks the words that stop your heart

He sets the Devil in your path

When the Stranger comes to town

- The Stranger, undated Southern folk myth

Death.

Billy Ray smelled it before he even stepped outside, saw the evidence of it before the back door to Our Lady of Perpetual Hope closed behind him. Smoke rose from a dozen different points in the city, thick black clouds that stunk worse than junkyard fires.

“Can you smell it, Billy?”

He jumped at the reverend’s voice above him. For a moment, he pictured the gaunt man floating in the air, hovering over him like some kind of gargoyle waiting to swoop down on its prey. Billy Ray slowly turned his gaze upwards and felt a nervous relief when he saw Cyrus Christian leaning from his bedroom window.

“Um, yeah, you mean the smoke?”

Christian’s grin grew wide, and Billy Ray’s nervousness increased in tandem with it. “That’s not just smoke. Breathe it in. That’s the smell of cherished memories, life-long savings, homes where generations built happy memories, all burning away to ash. Flesh and blood reduced to oily, greasy vapors.” Christian took a deep breath and held it. Just when Billy Ray thought it was impossible for a man to go that long without breathing, Christian exhaled through his nose, accompanied by a mellow sighing sound. Billy Ray remembered his old man making a similar sound whenever he took his first drag on his after-dinner cigar.

Billy Ray turned his eyes away from Christian’s creepy presence and looked back at Hastings Mills. In that moment, he realized something was missing.

No fire or police sirens filled the early morning air.

There’s no help coming for those people.

Billy Ray’s stomach twisted, threatening to send his meager breakfast of coffee and a stale donut back into the light. The flavor of his toothpaste disappeared, replaced by a slimy, burnt-fat taste that took a seat on his tongue and slowly spread throughout his mouth.

That’s roasted man-meat you’re tasting, Billy.

He had no idea if words were in his head or if Christian had said them. In that moment he knew it was time to get the fuck out of Hastings Mills. Fuck waiting until after the fair.

Gotta act like nothing’s wrong.
He took out his cigarettes and lighter, shook a butt out of the pack.

“What are you plans for today, Billy?”

“Shit!” Billy Ray’s hands twitched, sending cigarettes in all directions.
Stay calm, you asshole. He’s not reading your mind.

Billy Ray took a deep breath before answering. When he spoke, he was pleased at how calm his voice sounded. “Things are almost done at the park. I’m gonna take care of the last few booths. Unless you have something else you need done.”

“No, that’s fine, Billy. You get going. We’ll see each other later.”

Billy Ray purposely took time to gather his cigarettes and light one before glancing upwards. Christian was gone from the window.

Now. Time to get your ass in gear, Billy Ray Capshaw.

He took a few more drags on the cigarette, appreciating how it washed away the crematorium taste from his tongue, and then stubbed it out against the railing. As he went back inside, already sweating from the god-awful heat, he started a mental list of things to take with him and then decided just to fuck it, just get the hell out.

He grabbed a paper bag he knew wouldn’t look suspicious; he frequently took a bag of water bottles and snacks with him if he planned on being gone all day. The money would take up just about the same amount of space. Everything else he’d just buy when he got to wherever he ended up.

A floorboard creaked overhead and Billy Ray froze, droplets of sweat tickling their way down his back. The murky basement seemed to grow darker as he stood statue-still, listening for any indication that someone—
Christian!
—might be heading for the basement stairs. When a full minute went by with no further sounds, Billy Ray went to the cabinet and eased the door open, glancing around him as he did so.

More sweat dripped from his brow as he snatched the bills from their boxes. He stuffed them into the bag without even bothering to count them. He no longer cared how much was there, as long as it was enough to finance a fresh start someplace else.