Devil's Kiss (28 page)

If they escaped—?” Sam asked, allowing the question to fade.

“It would be a disaster,” Wade said. “But there is no chance of that happening. It's—like a small, well-stocked, hotel for the guards—including women for them. The guards are changed—so I was told—every six months, they never leave the grounds. The place is small, Sam, and it's partly underground. A person could walk right up to it and not see it. I mean it. The pay is really good, insuring silence from the guards.”

“Does the government ever come in to inspect?”

“Rarely, Sam. The place is fully staffed with a couple of military doctors; the whole bit.”

“How do they get the men in here?”

“The guards and the girls? By car and light truck. At night. The sheriff knows about it.”

“Addison, too?”

Sure.”

“Leases the land, you said. From whom?”

Wade was silent for a moment, then his face paled. “Karl Sorenson.”

“Do you know when the last crew came in?”

“Last month.”

“How convenient,” Sam said dryly. “I wonder if they were wearing medallions? Well, the Prince planned this one to the letter, didn't he?”

“I'm beginning to think so,” Wade admitted. This time, there was no doubt in his voice.

Sam looked at the dark timber. “Let's go. Wear your crosses outside your shirts.”

As they approached the timber, Sam said, “We'll stay just to this side of the timber.” He glanced at Wade. “You'll be a believer once this day is over.”

“I'm a believer now,” the editor replied tightly. “Believe me, I am.”

“Chester?”

“I never doubted you, Sam.”

Carefully, slowly, the men drew nearer. As they came closer, Sam took his .45 from leather, jacked a round in the chamber, then eased the hammer down, the weapon off safety.

“How many rounds did it take you to stop one?” Chester asked.

“Too many,” the minister said tightly.

“Crazy people have enormous strength, don't they?” Chester asked.

“Yes, so I'm told.”

“And if they were possessed . . . ?”

“It would be awesome,” Wade answered for Sam. He was convinced.

 

At the Dig, Wilder smiled as he listened to the voice of his Master. He told Nydia, “Balon put it together about the asylum. He's a smart one. Most intelligent. I would enjoy sitting down with him; discussing things that really matter. Just two well-read men opening their minds to philosophical ruminations.”

“I'd like for him to fuck me!” Nydia said.

“Vulgar bitch!” Wilder glared at her. “Your brains are located between your legs.”

She laughed at him.

The stench around the edge of the timber was raw, an affront to human nostrils.

“Whew!” Chester wrinkled his nose. “I've never smelled anything like this.”

The men stood just on the fringe of the timber. A low growl came from the murkiness. Jumpy, Wade grabbed for his pistol. Sam's hand stopped him.

“Wait,” he said, removing the cross from his neck, holding it close to the timber. The Beast screamed in terror and anger, its breath fouling the summer air.

“I didn't believe it,” Wade muttered. Beads of sweat hung on his face.

Sam put the cross around his neck just as another Beast screamed. This one was much closer to the men. Sam could see its red eyes glaring at them. “Look at that,” he said.

Chester stood with his hand poised near the butt of his .45, hanging butt-down in the shoulder holster.

“I see it,” Wade muttered, edging from the timber line. “Let's get out of here.”

Where is your journalistic inquisitiveness, Wade?” Sam smiled. He was rubbing it in a bit.

Wade said, before he thought, “Sam, don't be a smart ass!”

The minister chuckled. With one fluid motion, he jerked the .45 from leather, jacked back the hammer, and shot the Beast in the face, dead center between its tiny eyes.

The Beast screamed in pain, as crimson leaped from its shattered head. It fell forward, crashing to the ground, just at the edge of the timber, its huge clawed hands digging into the soft earth.

“One less,” Sam spat on the ground in contempt.

Wade threw up his lunch as the stink from the dead Beast filled his head and his eyes took in all its horror. It didn't help a bit when Sam said, “Think what it must be like in the caves where they live.”

Wade wiped his mouth with a shaky hand. “Thanks, Sam. I really needed that last crack.”

“I think we'd better get out of here,” Chester said. “We're not heavily armed enough to fight many of them.”

Do it slowly,” Sam cautioned. “Don't run Walk straight up the hill. I'll bring up the rear and keep an eye out.”

Wade led the way up the hill without any further urgings, Chester behind him, Sam bringing up the rear. Wade's heart was pounding in his chest. He was sweating and panting, and he was amazed and just a bit angry to see his minister so calm.

“Let's watch,” Sam said, squatting down. “Let's see what happens.”

“Sam!” Wade said, exasperated.

“We've got time, Wade. Relax. Give me a cigarette.”

Chester was mildly amused at Sam's calmness. He thought: I can understand how he won all those medals.

“Sam!” Wade repeated. “We've got to get to town. We've got to warn the others. We've got to call the authorities.”

Sam glanced up at him, amusement in his eyes.
What authorities do you suggest we call?”

Why—why—” The newsman was silent for a time, realizing there was no one to call; that Father Dubois was right. They were in this alone.

The men stood on the hill and watched some . . . thing drag the dead Beast into the timber. Wade said, “We've got to call the government, Sam. I know that for a fact. We have to tell them about what's happening. They'll send in troops to cover the asylum, at least.”

Sam rose to his feet. “I'm sure you have the number right at hand,” he smiled. “And the operator will allow your call to go through?”

Wade sighed in resignation. “Yeah. Right. I feel like a mouse in a box; nowhere to go. All right, Sam, but we can still run—I think. Can't we?”

“We've been all over that, Wade.” Sam fished in the editor's pocket for a Pall Mall. He lit it, then said, “How many ways in and out of Whitfield?”

“There are still county roads we can use.”

“I don't think so. We're being watched. They would never allow us to leave.”

Wade faced the minister on the hill. “But that's just part of it, isn't it, Sam? You don't
want
to leave, do you? You
want
to make a fight of it, don't you?”

“Yes,” Sam admitted.
I do.”