Graveyard Games (28 page)

Six feet away a bullet lodged into an elm
tree.

"Holy shit, Chris, you nearly blew my
fucking head off!" Shane yelled, still ducking.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but Christ, I didn't know
it was you!"

Dusty sighed, closing her eyes when she
heard the familiar sound of Chris' voice. She stood and joined
them. Billy was holding the 12-guage, eyes wide. She smiled at him
and he smiled weakly back.

"Where’ve you been?" Shane asked.

Billy shrugged. "Looking for you guys.”

"Didn't you hear us?" Dusty asked him.

"Well." Chris and Billy looked at each
other. "We heard something."

"Thanks a lot." Shane rolled his eyes. "We
could have used a little help."

Dusty touched Shane's arm, shaking her head.
Chris wouldn’t meet their eyes, looking at the gun in his hands.
Billy stared at the snow.

"Well, the thing is still alive." Shane’s
face was grim. "But Jake and Evan are dead."

Chris gasped, sounding as if someone had hit
him in the stomach.

Billy stood wide-eyed. "Dead?" he repeated,
looking at Dusty. She nodded.

"Did you try to kill it?" Chris demanded.
"Did you shoot it?"

“
I shot it,” Dusty said
grimly. “Twice.”

“
And I threw an M-80 at
it,” Shane told them. “It put it in its mouth. I think that would
have done it, but it was a dud.”

"What
is
it?" Chris turned to pace toward
the back of the mausoleum. "And what the hell is it doing
here?"

He stopped and leaned against the wall.

"I don't know, Shane," Billy said, sounding
uneasy. "There's not much we can do if bullets can't stop it." He
joined Chris.

"Depends, I guess." Shane followed them
toward the back of the mausoleum. "Depends on where it was shot."
They stood there in the shadows and Dusty joined them, shivering.
It was getting colder. "Bullet wounds aren't always fatal."

"It was a head shot." Dusty raised her
eyebrows. "Well…a neck shot, at least."

"I don’t know," Shane shrugged. “Maybe you
missed the artery?”

She gave him a cool look. “That shot should
have killed it.”

"Then it can’t be human," Chris said. "Can
it?"

"I think it
was
human." Dusty
frowned at the memory of the thing, the wild, white hair, the
filthy, tattered suit. "At one time maybe. But now—?"

Shane motioned her to be quiet and she gave
him a strange look.

"She’s right." Shane’s voice grew louder as
he motioned for Chris to give him his gun, still talking. Chris
handed it over, puzzled. Shane was looking behind them. "If it was
human once, it can be killed. "

He put his finger to his lips after checking
the ammunition in the gun and then pointed. They all turned around.
A long shadow was growing on the snow in the moonlight on the other
side of the mausoleum.

A shadow with hooked claws.

Dusty opened her mouth to scream but a hand
was in the way—Shane's. He shook his head, turning her around,
still talking.

"Dusty shot it twice," he was saying. "It
could be lying dead out there right now."

She stared at him with wide eyes as he
talked. He moved her behind him and motioned for Chris and Billy to
do the same.

The shadow grew longer and longer, and Shane
kept talking, raising and quietly cocking the gun.

"This damn cemetery is huge," Shane
said.

Dusty looked past his back, toward the
western fence, and then at the growing shadow. Billy and Chris
stood protectively on either side of her.

"And it really could be anywhere by
now."

The thing sprang from around the corner,
claws raised, teeth bared, and Dusty did scream then. Her screams
mingled with its laughter and Shane's voice. Both Chris and Billy
jumped back, crushing her between them.

"But it's right here and
it's going to
die
!"
Shane began to pull the
trigger.

The first bullet caught its throat, jerking
it back. The second went into its chest, the third into its
stomach, the fourth, the fifth—Shane just kept firing, watching it
stagger back toward the fence.

"
DIE
, you son-of-a-bitch!" Shane
screamed.

He was pulling the trigger
and it just clicked, empty. Dusty looked at the thing leaning
against the fence, its breathing ragged, but it was
breathing—

"You fucker!" Shane yelled, the rage in his
voice thick.

He went after it with his bare hands and
Dusty cried out, starting after him. Chris grabbed hold of her
waist and pulled her back. Shane abandoned he gun, throwing it in
the snow, and encircled the thing’s throat with his hands,
screaming at it.

"You killed my friends, you bastard!” Shane
forced it backward and it seemed weak. It didn’t even raise its
claws.

“
You’re—Going—To—Pay—For—It!" Shane cried, punctuating each
word by pushing it farther back. It fought weakly and Dusty
watched, horrified with herself when she felt pity as she heard it
choking for air, spitting up blood.

It was dying.

Enough,
she thought.
Oh, that's
enough.

Its eyes rolled back into its head as Shane
pressed harder, harder. It was up against the fence now, squirming
and wheezing.

Dusty screamed when a long spike pierced its
throat, straight through Shane's hand. Shane cried out, cursing,
pulling his hand carefully, painfully, off the spike. Dusty rushed
toward him, screaming his name. He stood there, holding his hand,
his eyes closed, something clenched tightly in his fist.

"My God, are you okay? Shane, are you okay?"
It was a stupid question, but she couldn’t think of anything else
to say.

She repeated it over and over until he
dutifully replied, "Yeah, I'm fine." But it was obvious he
wasn't.

They all looked at the thing dangling there.
Its chest had stopped heaving. Dusty felt her stomach tighten,
looking at the spike protruding from its throat.

"Is it over?" Billy asked hoarsely, coming
to stand beside them. Chris stood just behind Billy, staring at the
body with wide eyes. Then he turned and vomited into the snow.
Dusty looked away, her own stomach heaving.

"It's dead," Shane told them.

And that doesn’t exactly
answer the question, does it?
Dusty
thought.
Is it over?

They had three bodies to explain and
tomorrow to look forward to. Dusty thought of Nick. His killer was
dead, but she didn’t feel relieved, or unburdened or even
satisfied... she just felt sick. She tried to imagine her brother's
face and found she couldn’t. It frightened her. She couldn’t
remember just what he looked like, couldn’t remember the exact tone
of his voice, the exact color of his eyes. She looked at the body
on the fence. It was dead.

But so was Nick.

"Can you guys do me a favor and take the
guns back to my car?" Shane sat in the snow. "I'm not feeling so
hot."

"Sure." Chris picked up the forty-five.
Billy was still holding tightly to the shotgun.

"I'll be there in a minute or two. I'm gonna
rest here," Shane told them. "I'll meet you at the car."

"No, you won't." Dusty knelt beside him. The
blood was running freely from his hand. There was an actual hole
right through it, the flesh parting in an odd, jagged way. She
reached into her pocket and flipped open her phone. “No service.
Damnit.” She glanced up at Chris and Billy. “Can you get service?”
They had their phones out already, but both of them shook their
heads.

Dusty began digging in Shane’s pockets.

"What are you doing?" he asked when she
pulled out his keys.

"Chris, take the car,” Dusty said. “Drive
toward town until you get service or find a phone. Call an
ambulance. And the police. I'm going to bandage his hand the best I
can and I'll wait here with him."

Chris hesitated, looking at Shane.

"He's not driving my car," Shane told her,
standing up. “Last time he drove my car—"

He swayed unsteadily and then sat heavily
back down.

Sighing, he looked at Chris. “Take my
car."

"Okay," Chris said, looking worried. He
glanced over at Billy, who was also frowning. "We'll be back."

They started away and Dusty watched them for
a moment.

"I feel drunk," Shane said, looking at her
and Dusty turned back to him.

"You're losing too much blood," she said,
taking off her coat.

Shane watched as she unbuttoned her blouse
and took it off. He stared at her then, at the flesh of her breasts
over the top of her bra.

"Now?" He grinned.

"Pervert!" Dusty laughed, pulling her jacket
back on and starting to tear strips of her blouse. She unclenched
his fist and frowned at what he had clasped there. “Where did you
get this?”

It seemed like a million
years ago when she took off the talisman, leaving the “dream-eater”
Sam had given her at home before taking Nick’s gun with her to
Shane’s, but here it was in Shane’s hand.
How—?

He looked down at it. “That thing was
wearing it.”

She held it up, frowning. On closer
inspection, she saw wasn’t an exact replica of the one Sam had
given her to wear, but it was close. Tossing it aside, she turned
her attention back to Shane’s wound, wrapping the strips around his
hand. He winced and shut his eyes. When she finished, he opened
them and looked at her.

"I'm cold," he said. She moved toward him,
putting her arms around him and sitting next to him in the
snow.

"My ass is still cold," he murmured against
her hair. Then he said, "I'm tired."

"So'm I," she replied, snuggling closer to
him against the wind.

He stroked her hair with one hand, his
bandaged hand resting on her thigh. The moon was sinking behind the
trees. Behind them, the body dangled quietly, lifelessly, and Dusty
didn’t look back at it.

But she wanted to. She was afraid it might
be moving.

"We're gonna be okay." Shane said it as if
he could not believe it. "We did it. We really did it."

"Yeah," Dusty breathed, a sadness settling
somewhere inside.

Nick was still gone.

"Now what?”

She didn’t answer him. She honestly didn’t
know. It had grown darker, the moon moving away from them, behind
the trees. She could only see his outline.

"My hand hurts, Dusty." He sounded like a
child. She kissed the top of his head, closing her eyes and
snuggling in closer to him.

"NO!"

Dusty looked behind her, gasping.

"NO! NO!"

"Sam!” she gasped. “What
are you
doing
here?"

Sam looked behind her,
beyond her, his jaw dropped, eyes wide. Puzzled, she stared at him.
In one hand he carried a gun and a flashlight. In the
other—
Sarge, that’s
Sarge!
—he held a dog by the scruff of its
neck. It hung limply.

"Yuh-yuh-you b-b-bitch!" he spat, looking at
her, flicking the flashlight on and shining it in her face. She
tried to shield her eyes. The light was so bright, she couldn’t
see.

"What do you want?" Shane shaded his own
eyes with his bandaged hand.

"Yuh-you k-killed huh-him!" Sam cried,
distraught.

The dog thudded in the snow and Sam looked
behind them with wide, frightened eyes. Dusty stared at him,
thoroughly confused, questions coming and going in her mind faster
than she could keep up.

"Yuh-yuh-yuh-you kuh-kuh..." Tears began to
fall down Sam's cheeks. "Yuh-yuh-yuh-yuh..."

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Dusty asked
him, her voice gentle. "What's the matter?" She motioned for Shane
to be quiet. "I don't understand what you're—"

"Yuh-You
k-k-
KILLED
huh-him!" Sam swiped a hand across his eyes. "Huh-he was
m-m-my fuh-
FATHER
!"

"Your…what?" Dusty whispered.

Sam narrowed his eyes at her. "Yuh-you said
you wuh-were m-my fruh-friend.”

"Sam, I
am
you friend, but
you're not making any sense."

"Dusty," Shane said softly beside her. She
motioned for him to be quiet.

"Huh-he wuh-was m-my fuh-fuh-fuh-father,"
Sam said, tears glistening on his cheeks. He looked so young,
staring behind them forlornly at the grotesque form speared on the
fence.

"Father?" Dusty whispered. In the distance,
she could hear sirens.

"Dusty," Shane said, much more urgent. She
twisted around so she could look and she saw... really saw. Dusty
stared at the body, the wild white hair, the vicious, fierce
expression...

“
Roy,” she whispered. The
picture. The name above the mausoleum:
LEWIS.

"
DUSTY
!"
Shane shook her. "Damn it, Dusty, that's Nick's gun he's got
and there's two—" He stopped.

Dusty met his eyes and then looked back at
Sam. The gun was leveled at her.

"Sam," she breathed, but she couldn’t follow
it up with anything. The breath had been sucked from her body and
she could only stare at the gun. The sirens that, just a moment
before, had been piercing the air, now seemed very far away.

"I luh-luh-loved him." Sam
cocked the gun but she was frozen. "Huh-he was m-m-my
fuh-
FATHER
."

"NO!" Sam glanced toward the sound of
Shane's voice. "You crazy fucker!"

She couldn’t move. Nick's gun. She saw the
lights, red and blue flashing, coming down the asphalt drive toward
them, but she didn’t acknowledge them, she couldn't. Sound had
receded.