The Devil's Touch (27 page)

Her son entered the bedroom and pushed the father off his sister. The son took the father's place, grunting his way into the young girl.

The mother put her face against the floor and wept. She did not understand what was happening; what had so changed this town.

She just didn't understand.

She looked up as Dan Evans entered the bedroom and dropped his trousers to the floor. She could not believe her ears when her husband said, "Go ahead and fuck my old lady. Maybe that'll shut her goddamn mouth."

Jon Le Moyne looked at the orgy taking place on the den floor of his house. Patsy was attempting to sexually satisfy five boys at once. Somehow, she was succeeding quite well. But Jon could not see where he had any opening. He padded naked across the floor, his semi-hardness swinging heavy between his legs. A teenage boy looked at Jon, open envy and lust in his eyes. Jon nodded to him. The boys went into a bedroom and closed the door behind them.

Nellie Bennett shouted out her joy as Hoss Patrick filled her. She had not felt this good in several years. She grunted as he slammed his bulk into her. Nellie did not regret making the pact with the Dark One.

Not yet.

Charles and Frances Le Moyne walked the darkened alleyways and back streets of Logandale, mangled and torn from the accident. They looked for Father Le Moyne. They wanted to give him something. They wanted the priest to be as them.

They would find him. If not tonight, then another night. It had been promised them.

Will Gibson sat in his car, Judy beside him. "Are you thirsty?" she asked.

"Yes," Will said, running his swollen tongue over his teeth. "Very."

"Why are we waiting?"

Will started the car and drove into the night, searching.

Janet Sakall knelt between the bare legs of her father and took him orally, while Mayor Kowolski serviced the teenager from behind.

Professors Frank Gilbert and Edie Cash sat in the darkened room at Giddon House with Norman Giddon and Xaviere Flaubert.

"Princess," Edie asked. "Now that Balon knows Desiree is not of our kind, how many days of pleasure are you allowing the members of our coven?"

"Three," the young witch replied. "Until midnight of the twenty-sixth. Thursday night we will cleanse ourselves and meet with our Master. On Friday, the town and all its people will be ours."

"Or dead," Norman said with a profane giggle.

"That is true. Now hear me well: I
must
mate with Sam Balon on Friday night, between six P.M. and midnight. I don't care how it is accomplished; but it must be. I am counting on you to see to that little matter."

"It will be as you order, Princess," Edie said.

"It better be," the young woman replied ominously.

Father John Morton stood guard in his home, a pump shotgun close at hand. His children had gone, leaving the home after cursing both parents, calling them the vilest of names. Tomorrow, or today, he corrected, at first light, he and his wife would go to the Draper home, to join the small group of Christians. The priest wondered what in the world had happened to Byron Price and Richard Hasseling.

Richard Hasseling bumped into something and recoiled in fear. He put out his hand to touch the—thing. He could neither touch it or see it, but somehow, it was there.

"Byron?" he whispered.

"I'm here," Byron returned the whisper. "For the love of God, Richard—let's get out of this awful place."

"I'm trying!" the man replied, his voice ragged from fear. "But we're—we—
we're locked in!"

"Locked in? What in the hell do you mean, locked in?"

Hasseling took a deep breath and calmed himself. "There appears to be some sort of invisible field around the area. We can't get out!"

Methodist shoved Baptist out of the way. He lunged toward the invisible barrier and smacked his head hard. He stumbled backward and sat down heavily on the ground. "Son-of-a-bitch!" he muttered. He looked heavenward. "Forgive me, Lord."

"I think," Hasseling said slowly and softly, "that at first light, we had best rejoin the group at Chief Draper's house."

"I concur. But for now, we'd better stay here and stay quiet."

Hasseling sat down on the ground beside his friend. "Byron? I've a confession to make. I'm scared half out of my wits."

Byron peered through the murk at the man. Byron had come very close to becoming a street punk in Buffalo before joining the church and straightening up his act. For a moment, he reverted back to the streets. "Well, Richard," he said. "Join the fucking club!"

And Pete LaMeade's shovel struck the top of his wife's coffin. Pete broke the seal and lifted the lid. He looked at the rotting grinning face. Lisa LaMeade opened her eyes and gazed up at her husband. Pete lifted her head and pressed his mouth to her decaying lips.

"Come,
Ma jolie,"
he whispered against the stink of her face. "You are free."

Noah had taken a chance and driven out to Sam and Nydia's. He now stood in the den, looking at Sam's collection of guns. "No doubt about it, Sam. You have quite an impressive arsenal here."

"That you can see," Sam replied with a boyish grin. "Take whatever suits you. For I don't believe you will be allowed to leave the town if you tried returning to your house for weapons."

"I'm certain you are correct in that," Noah replied. He selected a twelve gauge shotgun and began filling a sack with shells.

Sam opened the back of his gun case and pulled out an AK-47. The AK-47 is almost universally accepted as the best combat rifle ever made.

Noah looked at the AK. He arched one eyebrow. "My word. Is that—"

"Yes," Sam replied. "Full auto." He went to a storage room and returned, carrying a full case of 7.62 ammunition and several canvas pouch belts.

Noah arched the other eyebrow. "In New York State, too," he muttered. "You really do like to live dangerously, don't you, Sam?"

"No, not really. I just believe it is the right of any law-abiding citizen to own any weapon they might choose to own. I think limits should only apply to howitzers, land mines, and weapons of that nature."

"My sentiments, exactly, Sam," the writer said.

Sam sat down on the couch and began filling clips. Noah sat beside him, filling a canvas loop belt with double ought buckshot shells.

Using the handy-talkie, Nydia contacted the Drapers, speaking with Viv. She clicked off and said to Sam, "Little Sam is all right. Sam—what are we going to do?"

Without looking up from his work, Sam said, "We're going to gather up every weapon I have and every weapon Monty owns, and all the ammunition and food we can steal. That's first. Then we are going—all of us—out to Fox Estate and make them come to us. That mansion is built of native rock; they won't be able to burn us out or starve us out. I think, I believe, that if we can hold out until midnight of the thirty-first, we'll be home free. Sometime between Thursday and Saturday, I may have to enter the Giddon House and try to find and destroy the Tablet of Satan."

""The Tablet?" Father Le Moyne asked.

"There is a Tablet that belongs to the Devil. It is inscribed: 'HE WALKS AMONG YOU. THE MARK OF THE BEAST IS PLAIN. BELIEVE IN HIM. ONCE TOUCHED, FOREVER HIS. THE KISS OF LIFE AND DEATH.' It is said that if the Tablet is destroyed, that person will have some control over the actions of Satan. My father attempted to destroy it. He was killed. Maybe I'll have better luck."
(The Devil's Kiss)

"And the Tablet is covered with obscene drawings, cut into the stone?" Noah asked.

"Why—yes," Sam said, looking at him. "Why—how did you know that?"

"I was afraid that was the Tablet you were referring to. I did a great deal of research on the Dark One. I discovered some small reference to the Tablet in an old obscure book. How did you know about the power over Satan supposedly given to the mortal who destroys the Tablet?"

Sam shook his head. "I—I didn't, Noah. Not until just then."

"And your father? Did he know?"

"I don't know. I get the feeling he might have, toward the end."

Mille entered the den, her sister with her, holding onto her hand. Jeanne looked fresh and innocent, her eyes reflecting a renewed spirit and inner strength.

"I lived through a nightmare," the teenager said, speaking softly. "But thanks to all of you, I'm O.K. I want to thank you, all of you."

Father Le Moyne rose and put a gentle hand on Jeanne's shoulder. "All that is behind you now, Jeanne. For now, we must look to the future."

Joe came into the den, walked to the gun cabinet, and picked out a Remington Model 870 Bushmaster with a twenty inch barrel. "I got me a good rifle out in the car. This here will do for close work." He looked at Sam. "You got plenty of shells for this?"

"All we'll need to hold up the sporting goods store and get some more," Sam said grinning.

Joe also grinned. He shook his head in disbelief. "I been a cop for more years than I like to think about. Now I get to operate from the other side of the fence. Should be interestin'."

"Let's start loading up the cars and trucks, people," Sam said. He walked over to the coffee table and picked up the handy-talkie to call Monty and tell him they were on their way.

The telephone rang, startling them all. Sam picked up the receiver. It hummed for a few seconds, then clicked, a voice taking the place of the hum. "You will all die," a man said. "And you will die slowly and painfully, and with much humiliation. Turn on your TV set to the early local news." The voice was gone. The phone went dead.

"Something up?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. And I bet you I know what it is." Sam walked to the TV set and flipped it on, turning to the channel that carried news of local interest to that area the station served.

"—And in news of interest to the residents living in Clark County, especially those who might be considering travel on routes 12B, 12C, or 467, in a word—don't! Those routes have all been closed for one week, effective at six this morning. All you folks up there in Logandale—
good luck!
The mayor of Logandale, Abe Kowalski, told this reporter the folks in his town have been stockpiling food and other essentials for several weeks, preparing for this event. Most say they are looking forward to it. The clinic there is fully equipped and fully manned—
whoops!
Excuse me, ladies. Fully
personed,
that should be. Sorry about that. Anyway, the clinic is prepared to handle any emergency that might arise. The sheriff of Clark County, Pat Jenkins, says medivac helicopters from the hospital in Blaine will be on twenty-four hour alert to handle any situation that might occur. We hope there will not be any of those. So to all those folks up there in Logandale with the pioneer spirit—may the Force be with you."

Sam clicked off the set. "Hell of a choice of words," he said. "Cheerful son-of-a-bitch doesn't realize just how accurate he was."

"Kowalski's lyin' through his dentures," Joe said. "He didn't tell Monty or me about any damn closin' of roads around this area."

"Of course not," Sam said. "The mayor is one of them. But it makes me more certain I'm right about the coven members' plans. I had a hunch—no, that's not it. I guess Dad must have told me. I don't think they're going to wait until the thirty-first. I think the timetable's been altered. I think Saturday night is their deadline. I don't know how I know that. I just do. And I think, from what Satan told me, after he kicked me in the butt and just before he pissed on me, that they're going to play with us for a time. Then they'll try to panic us. But they're going to have a hell of a time doing that if we're bunkered in tight."

"Let's get to it, folks," Joe said. "We got a lot of work to do."

"1 got the same call you did," Monty told Sam. "We all heard the news. No telling how long all this has been in the works." He shook his head. "Stick up the sporting goods store, Sam? Steal guns and food and ammunition? 1 don't know about that."

Sam was mildly amused at the cop in the man. "You think we can just walk into the place and buy what we're going to need, Monty?"

Monty opened his mouth to argue. Before he could speak, there was a knock on the door. Noah opened it and looked into the faces of Father John Morton and his wife, with Byron Price and Richard Hasseling in tow.

"Have the doubting Thomases reversed their positions on the matter of Satan?" Noah asked, waving the group inside.

"Please don't rub our mistakes raw, Mr. Crisp," Richard said. "Believe me when I say that you are looking at a very confused group of people."

"Call me Noah. And you're right. I am sorry for the unwarranted sarcasm. But the past night has been rather harrowing for all of us."

Viv took Barbara Morton's hand and led her into the kitchen for coffee. Richard and Byron told the group of their experience with the invisible shield covering the area. Byron pointed to the knot on his head.

"I lost both my faith and my temper out there," the man admitted. "Several times. But I rediscovered both, never fear."

Sam came right to the point. "Can either of you men use any type of weapon? Rifle, pistol, or shotgun?"

Father John Morton and Richard Hasseling had had some experience with rifles and shotguns when in their teens. But neither had fired a gun in years. Byron was city born and reared and had never fired a gun in his life.

Shit! Sam thought. Another argument for compulsory military training. "Well, you'll just have to learn. A very few of us will have to be covering a lot of ground, and all of us will have to man a perimeter. Let's get to it, people."

The small caravan of Christians made their way slowly into the main part of Logandale. There was not a living soul on the sidewalks when they began the move, but all were conscious of being watched from the houses. Each window seemed to contain an evil face. Each vehicle was equipped with a Logandale P.D. handy-talkie and they kept in constant touch. Each person knew the agenda.