Hell Come Sundown (4 page)

“Now, I admit that I have been known to bend my elbow, and that I have been known to disturb the peace when I do, but that was no reason for Winthrop to simply ignore what I had to say. True, me and the boys had enjoyed a few celebratory shots of whiskey before we set to openin' the box, but I weren't drunk. Just like I ain't drunk now. Leastwise, not so drunk I was seein' things that weren't there.

“Anyhow, when I woke up the next day, I was still holdin' to my story. As Sheriff Winthrop was unlockin' my cell, I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out the medallion. During the ruckus, I must have snatched it up off the barn floor when Merle dropped it. Up until I pulled it out of my pocket, I'd forgot I even had it on me. I showed it to Winthrop as proof that what I was tellin' him was God's honest truth.

“I could tell he still weren't gonna swaller some long-dead conquistador risin' up from the grave and killin' folks, but the sight of the medallion made him wonder if there was something to my story. He decided to ride out to Merle's place and find out what was goin' on for himself. As for me, he told me to stay put in town, in case there was any questions that needed answerin' when he got back.

“I told him there was no way in hell I was goin' back out to my spread. Not with that thing, whatever it was, wanderin' the countryside. If he wanted to find me when he got back I told him I'd be in the church. The sheriff looked at me funny when I said that, because I ain't much for settin' foot in the Lord's house on a Sunday, much less any other day of the week.

“So I left the jail and come straight over here. The church was shut up, on account of it being the middle of the week, so I had to go get Brother Stephens, the minister here, to unlock it for me. The preacher, he was right surprised to see a sinner like me banging on his door. He asked me what I needed the church open for. I said I needed to do me some prayin'.

“He says, ‘Well, that's mighty fine to hear, Farley. But you can pray to the Lord just as good at home.'

“But I tells him, ‘Reverend, I got me some serious favors to be askin' of the Lord, and I figger its best I do my askin' on His ground, not mine.'

“He didn't rightly know what to make of my conversion, but I figger in the end he decided not to look it in the mouth. He went and unlocked the church and I set about praying as hard as I could, only lettin' up every so often to trot to the outhouse and back. Halfway into the afternoon, Sheriff Winthrop come back from Merle's spread. He tells Brother Stephens that he wants to talk to me some more, and would I come over to the sheriff's office. I tell the preacher to tell the sheriff that if he's got any questions to ask of me, he better ask them to me in the church, because I ain't settin' foot outside it. So Winthrop comes in and sits down in the pew next to me. I can tell from his face that he's worried some.

“‘Farley,' he says, ‘I been out to Merle's.'

“‘You seen the well he was diggin'?'

“‘I seen the well.'

“‘You seen the barn?'

“‘I seen that, too—as well as the metal chest you told me about.'

“‘You seen Merle and them?'

“‘No. That's the one thing I didn't see out there. There were no bodies in that barn. Hell, there weren't nothin', livin' or dead, in that barn. Not Merle, not Billy, not Hank—not even horses, for that matter.'

“‘What does that mean, Sheriff?'

“‘Damned if I know, Farley. Maybe you and Merle and the others had a fallin' out over the treasure in the chest. Maybe that's what happened. But it don't make no sense for you to come runnin' into town with such a cock-and-bull story if you kilt them. And why in tarnation would you want to kill Merle and his livestock, right down to the very last chick and piglet? And even if you did, why in hell would you hide the carcasses? Maybe you ain't tellin' me th' truth about what went on out there, but maybe you ain't lyin' to me, either. In any case, I have to wonder about what could possibly chase you so far up under Brother Stephens skirts. So until I get a better feel of what's goin' on here, I ain't gonna lock you up. I just want you to stay in town, where I can keep an eye on you.'

“I told him he needn't worry about that. I wasn't settin' foot outside the church unless I absolutely had to, since Brother Stephens said I could sleep in the vestibule until it was safe for me to go back home. The sheriff nodded and went back to his office.

“Things stayed quiet in Golgotha until the sun went down. That's when Merle and the boys showed up.

“The way I knowed they come back was the horse screamin' out in the street. I opened the door of the church and poked my head out and saw the three of 'em—Merle, Billy and Hank—swarming over the sheriff's palomino, which was hitched outside his office. They was all over it like cougars. At first I thought they was just loco, y'know? I called out to them to stop, more out of reflex, I reckon.

“They looked up from what they was doin' and I saw how pale they was—like there weren't a drop of life left in 'em. There was blood drippin' from their chins, and their eyes was all lit up from within, with the same hellfire I seen in the eyes of the thing from the box.

“Just then Sheriff Winthrop comes out to see what's happenin'. He's already got his gun drawn, not that it did him no good. The three of them jumped 'im just like they did his horse. Winthrop emptied most of his pistol into Merle, but he might as well have been shootin' at a tree. They took him down right then and there. That's when I slammed the church door and started prayin' again, even faster and harder than before.

“Folks poured out of their houses to see what all the shootin' and screamin' was about—and found out all too quick. At least half the town was kilt that night by them things. Brother Stephens rallied the other half and told 'em to make for the church. I reckon he knew creatures of the devil when he seen 'em, and knew they wouldn't be able to enter holy ground. Or maybe he thought it would be easier to make a stand in the church. I don't know which, because he didn't make it. He stopped to try and drag Martha Tillberry free of one of them monsters, and got his throat ripped out for his trouble.

“Us folks in the church couldn't do nothin' but listen to the creatures outside as they roamed the streets, laughing and shrieking like fiends from Hell. While they were able to enter other buildings freely, they wouldn't come closer than a stone's throw to the church. The reason I know this is because they was chuckin' rocks at us. They screamed and hissed like angry cats the whole time, too, like even lookin' in the direction of the church hurt 'em somehow. The rocks took out a couple of panes of glass, which is how we was able to keep an eye on them durin' that first night without openin' the door. It was horrible—there was bodies scattered all along the streets and boardwalks. Once or twice I caught sight of a tall figure moving between the buildings, the moonlight glinting off a metal vest and helmet.

“The next morning, when the sun finally came up, we looked back out the window and were surprised to see that the streets were completely empty. The bodies from the night before had vanished! It took a while, but we finally got the nerve to step outside and survey the damage. Except for the general store bein' turned ass over tea kettle and a few kicked-in doors and busted-out windows, there was little to show what had happened the night before—except for the lack of bodies. And it weren't just the townsfolk that was missin'. There weren't an animal carcass to be found—dog, cat, horse or pig. It was like everything that was livin' in Golgotha outside the protection of the church simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

“Those that survived the night were divided into two groups. There was them that wanted to get the hell out of town as fast as they could, and there was them that wanted to stay. Most of the folks that was for stayin' had loved ones missin'. I was one for stayin', but because I knew that without a horse, there was no way I could get far enough away before the sun went down. As bad as being holed up in the church might be, it was a damn sight better than bein' stuck out in the middle of nowhere with them things roamin' the countryside.

“The Wilhoyts and the Brubakers decided to pull up stakes and go. They took what provisions they could find from what was left of Goody's store and loaded them up in a wheelbarrow. They struck out north. That's the way you come in, weren't it? You didn't pass them on the road, did you? There was nine of 'em—two men, two women and five young'uns.”

Yoakum shook his head no.

“That's what I was skeered of. If them hell-beasts didn't git 'em, then Comanches or bandits most likely did. Either way, they're dead. Anyways, once the Wilhoyts and 'em was gone, that just left fifteen of us. We scavenged what we could from the store and houses—lamp oil, water, food, guns and ammunition—and went back to the church to wait for night.

“Soon as the sun was set, we could see things movin' outside. I watched as people—or what used to be people—wriggled their way out from under the boardwalks and dug themselves outta shallow graves. I watched as they wandered the streets of Golgotha, kinda dazed-like, as if they was all coming off the world's worst bender. They made this low, pitiful moanin' noise, like cattle lowing to be milked. They lifted their heads and started sniffing the air, like hounds casting for a scent. One by one they was drawn to the church, like iron filings to a magnet, but they couldn't get too close.

“It was terrible beyond any description. On the outside these were folks I'd worked alongside, broken bread with and called neighbor—folks like Goody Swanson, Tom Littlefield, Miz Tillberry—yet, they weren't them at all. One of the dead'uns came forward. It was Lottie Gruenwald, and she had dirt in her hair and dried blood all over her dress.

“‘Oscar—where are you Oscar?' she calls out. ‘I'm frightened!'

“Ol' Oscar jumped like he'd been stuck with a pitchfork when he heard her voice. ‘That's my wife out there! She's in danger! She needs me!'

“I grabbed Oscar by the arm and tried to tell him that weren't his wife out there—leastwise, not anymore. But he wouldn't hear reason. He pushed me aside and ran right out the front door of the church to his lovin' wife—who put her cold, stiff arms around his neck and tore his throat out with her fangs. Funny thing is, he didn't scream or carry on, much less look scared. He kind of had this dreamy look on his face, even when she bit into him.

“Just as Lottie was startin' to drink Oscar's blood, there was a commotion among the others. Then this figure comes forward, partin' the crowd like Moses dividin' the Red Sea. It was him. The one from the box. The others started callin' his name, over and over, like children cryin' for their mama:
‘Sangre, Sangre, Sangre.'

“I tell you, it was enough to put a bald man's hair on end. As he got closer, I could see this Sangre's a damn sight improved from the first time I laid eyes on him. Except for his eyes and the pale color of his skin, he don't look that much different from any other feller you might meet on the street—'cept for the helmet and breastplate, of course. The moment Lottie saw him, she let Oscar drop to the ground, like a cat bringin' its owner a wounded mouse as a love-token.

“Now Oscar ain't dead yet, but he's gettin' there. He put one hand over his throat, the blood squirtin' between his fingers, and tried to drag himself back toward the church, but it was too late. This Sangre feller bent over and sank his teeth into Oscar's neck, worrying him like a terrier does a rat. Whatever spell Oscar was under must have been broken then, 'cause that's when he started screamin'. They don't last long, though. Once Sangre drunk his fill, he stepped back and the others closed in on the poor bastard, swarmin' him like ants on a lump of sugar.

“Despite what everyone in the church saw happen to Oscar, the same damn thing happened again and again that night. Husbands called to their wives, children called to their mothers, mothers called to their sons, brothers called to their sisters … It didn't seem to matter that steppin' outside was certain death. There was no talkin' sense into 'em. Even when a bunch of us knocked 'em down and sat on 'em to keep 'em from leavin', they would still find a way of gettin' out the door. By the time the sun rose, there was only six of us left, and half of them had become gibbering idjits.

“Once the streets was clear, we were finally able to get some sleep. Later that afternoon, those of us that were still in our right minds left to replenish our supply of water and food. When we returned, we found the ones we'd left behind hanging from the church rafters. There was nothing we could do but cut 'em down and place 'em outside, as it was too late in the day to try and bury 'em. That just left me, Cyrus Ledbetter and Joe Kelly.

“Once the sun went down, the dead'uns came back out from their hidey-holes and started fightin' with each other over the bodies we'd left outside. They got real violent about it, too—I seen what used to be Sheriff Winthrop rip the head off'n what used to be Hank. And Hank stayed dead that time. That tole me two things: that the pickin's had to be pretty slim, if they was scrappin' over corpse-blood, and that they could be killed—leastwise by one another.

“Their hunger made them more desperate, and they started movin' in closer on the church than they had the night before. It was plain to see that they was scared of comin' too close, but at the same time the pain in their bellies was making them bold. I guess starvin's the same, whether yore hankerin' for cornpone or human blood.

“Cyrus, Joe an' me decided it would be smart to sleep in shifts. That ways one of us would be awake to raise the alarm in case the dead'uns got a hair up their ass and decided to storm the church. Cyrus was to take the first watch, Joe the second and me the third. I bedded down the best I could, tryin' to tune out the sound of the dead'uns outside, moanin' and wailin' like the damned souls they were. Next thing I know, I wake up to find Cyrus on top of me, his hands wrapped around my throat.