The Golem Part 27

The grace of G.o.d, Conner thought. Shee-it. I know I ain't a G.o.dly man myself, but I ain't no devil wors.h.i.+per. And those things, those abominable things that killed his wife and the Howeths, they were surely things made by the devil.

"They ain't fast, Mr. Conner," Corrigan said, "but they'se likely followin' me. They saw me s.n.a.t.c.h Lowen."

"That's what we want!" Conner exclaimed and dragged Lowen over and lay him across the tarped dynamite crate. And they're coming here. Now. "Norris! Run the fuse!"

Norris unrolled the black-powder fuse from the box, then out the nearest window.

Lowen was coming to, trying to sit upright. His eyes burned up at Conner; m.u.f.fled sounds leaked from the gag through his teeth.

"Ain't ya gonna give the man a last word, Mr. Conner?" Norris asked from the window.

"h.e.l.l no." Conner spat at the sorcerer. "Don't want ta hear his hocus-pocus-he'd likely put a curse on us."

"Bet he would, sir, bet he would."

Even with the gag in place, Lowen managed to smile.

CRACK! CRACK!.

Conner brought the Springfield's b.u.t.t down hard across Lowen's s.h.i.+ns. The bones broke; Lowen mewled, pain crus.h.i.+ng his face. "Can't have him crawlin' off the box. Corrigan, git outside'n wait with Norris."

"But, sir, what 'bout-"

"I'm waitin' in here till the last minute. Now do like I say!"

Corrigan slipped out the window, while Conner dragged Lowen to lie across the dynamite. Lowen's pain erupted through the gag as a gut-deep shriek. Conner checked his pistol again, then- WHAM!.

Something impacted a pair of wooden double doors in the corner; they'd been barred with a heavy plank.

Them things're here already...

Several more whams! caused the doors to splinter and burst wide. Conner felt petrified in place. Broken boards flew into the mill; an awkward shadow s.h.i.+fted from the corner.

"Light it when I say!" Conner shot a terrified whisper to the window, and then moaned from his heart to snap out of the dreaded paralysis. He drew his gun, stepped forward.

"Come on, ya unG.o.dly things!" his voice cracked. "I got what'cher lookin' fer!" He stepped on Lowen's broken s.h.i.+n bones, begetting more ripping shrieks. "The man that brung ya here from h.e.l.l is right here with me! Come git him!"

The lantern flame flickered; in its dim light, Conner could see enough as the first of the things came close enough. It was bone-thin, s.h.i.+ny as if somehow sweating through the meager layer of clay that covered it. An equally thin layer covered its skinned face. It loped forward, faster than Conner imagined it capable.

"Come on! Both'a ya's! I'm ready fer ya!" But no second figure appeared from the corner. Hot dread spread in Conner's belly when he realized why: there was no second abomination. Only one had come to free its master.

Only terror charged him now; he fired several slapdash shots, saw at least one bullet hole appear in the thing's hideous chest, but was not surprised to see it had no effect. Its thin feet thudded on the dirt floor as it quickened its pace.

"Light it!" he yelled, fired two more shots, and leapt for the window...

II.

The Present D-Man felt as nauseous as he felt confounded. So this...is how they do it? No spotlights lit the circular clearing this night; instead, kerosene torches burned. In the sputtering light, he could still make out the blood previously spattered on the multiple circles of stones that formed the greater circle on the ground. Several of Asher'srabbi's-all dressed blackly-busied themselves with scrolls that appeared yellowed with age. Asher himself addressed D-Man.

"I don't know where he is, is what I'm sayin'," D-Man reported, uneasy. "He don't answer his cell."

"And the last time you saw him was...when?"

"This afternoon, when we were drivin' back to your place from Somner's Cove. I dropped him off at the Lowen House 'cos we knowed Kohn wasn't home."

Asher steepled his fingers, thinking. "And how did you know that?"

" 'Cos we saw him this mornin'; we were killin' some time before we had to meet Rosh for the switch. Kohn's SUV was pullin' off on the exit to 413. No other place he could be goin' except Salisbury. The girl wasn't with him but we did see a suitcase in back so we figured he was on his way to the airport."

"And?"

"And then around one or two we make the switch with Rosh at the crab house'n head back to your place. When we'se drivin' past the Lowen House, Kohn's SUV still ain't there, so I dropped Nutjob off to have a little talk'n keep her in line. He was gonna push her for anything she might know 'bout another bas.e.m.e.nt, or where the stuff might be."

"I know it's there," Asher said, fisting one hand in frustration. "The portents have told me."

D-Man didn't know what a portent was. "Uh, so anyway, he was supposed to call me when he was done so's I could pick him up."

"But you never heard back from him," Asher figured. "Right. I left messages on his cell." D-Man scuffed his boots in the dirt. "Thought his phone battery probably went dead, so's he just walked back to town, but-"

"I see. That was hours ago."

D-Man nodded. "Figured he just went back to his place, then got stoned'n fell asleep, but I already checked. s.h.i.+t, Asher. I don't know where he is."

Asher gazed away, into the torchlight. "Then maybe Kohn's love interest is more industrious than we think. Maybe she killed him."

"Cain't see that, Asher. She slipped back hard. I'se bet if I told her to stand on her head'n s.h.i.+t in her face, she would... for crack."

Asher pursed his lips at the vulgar allusion. Before he could say anything more, one of his acolytes approached and quietly told him, "We're ready, Gaon."

A distraction that seemed rapturous lit Asher's eyes. "Bring the corpse out, and the offering."

Several other dark-dressed figures carried the freshly exhumed cadaver from the van. D-Man stared woozily as it was lain over the center circle of b.l.o.o.d.y stones. Flame-flickers danced on the dead skin. This is a f.u.c.kin' trip, his thoughts moaned.

"So beautiful, even in death. She'll be pristine." Asher's eyes looked unfixed. "In 1880, my ancestors had to cut the flesh from the corpses in order to reduce the surface area enough to be covered. That's how very little clay they had access to."

D-Man's gut shrunk when he caught himself looking at the dead, blue-nippled bosom. And after this, they're gonna cover her with- "It's obscene to think that the clay Gavriel Lowen had purchased would never arrive," Asher went on. "It makes me think of the trials of Job. But now we've been bestowed with the privilege that Great Gaon Lowen was never granted." He looked to the sky. "I can only wonder why..."

These people are f.u.c.kin' cracked, D-Man thought.

The linen-wrapped parcel was placed in the Gaon's hands. He smiled at the corrupt bread as though it were a newborn. "Your work is cut out for you, my friend," Asher's voice fluttered. He seemed suddenly flushed, holding back a deep joy.

"Yeah. Guess I got no choice but to have another visit with the girl."

"Go in the morning. Give her time to need more product. What ever happened to your a.s.sociate is not nearly as important as what must be retrieved from that house. If you need to torture her...torture her."

D-Man's throat tightened. He nodded.

"Now go, with the blessings of our melech." Asher smiled from far away. "Samael..."

Even as D-Man turned, he could feel something thickening the air and tingling his skin. Suddenly the impulse to flee overwhelmed him. D-Man didn't want to be around when they commenced.

He got in the van and drove out of the clearing, out of the field, and away as fast as he could.

III.

By nightfall, Judy's hands sang with pain, from the blisters she'd earned digging in the bas.e.m.e.nt for hours. It was the crack-so much crack-that made her oblivious, even mindless in this arcane task. She knew she would never divulge the existence of the hidden room but she figured if she doled out its contents one item at a time, she'd be able to manipulate the scenario in her favor.

The big one, she knew, would be harder to kill.

And sooner than later...he'll be back.

All she'd found while digging were several more pieces of bones, in addition to the hand they'd found. A femur, a collarbone, part of a skeletal foot-all strangely caked by the thinnest layer of something she could only believe was clay. But no skull. These pieces she'd unearthed in the east end of the hidden area. So...where was the skull? The worse question was: What did they want it for? But it wouldn't matter, would it? Seth had called earlier and said he probably wouldn't be back for a week now-more glitches. I have to be off this s.h.i.+t before he comes home. She thought of the dwindling bag. Only a few rocks were left.

By midnight, the edgy buzz was dulling. There was still one more thing she had to do to night, so she smoked one more piece and got to it.

The dead redneck's corpse, though slight of frame, seemed interminably weighty. d.a.m.n, it's like dragging a floor safe! The macabre bag remained secure over the head, and she was relieved to see that his bladder and bowels hadn't voided, or at least not enough to leave a mess. She grabbed it by the s.h.i.+rt-shoulders and dragged it c.u.mbersomely down the stairs.

When she checked outside, it was hot but she was relieved to find the sky cloudy, the moon obscured. Maybe G.o.d is with me, she had to chuckle to herself. The long vantage point on either side of the road showed no headlights. She moved faster than she'd ever moved just then, when she dragged the corpse out the door, down the front steps, and across the road into the edge of the switch-gra.s.s.

Her adrenalin surged-I'm dumping a dead body!-and when she stopped thirty yards or so in the switchgra.s.s rows, the reality of overexertion made her collapse. She tried to calm herself, flat on her back; her heart was beating funny. Middle-aged crackheads die from sudden heart attacks and strokes all the time, she reminded herself, but that prospect scarcely daunted her. If she died, she'd be relieved of the burden of quitting drugs again. When she settled down, though, she knew this wasn't deep enough. She needed the corpse deep, deep in the fields. By the time the gra.s.s was baled the summer heat would have reduced it to bones. There'd be nothing to link it to her.

She spent another twenty minutes dragging the body deeper.

A hundred yards at least, she thought, huffing in the darkness. She sat down to rest more, only then remembering Hovis's warning of snakes in the fields. With my luck it won't be a harmless hognose, it'll be a copperhead... She could thrash her way all the way back as she'd come or...The ser vice path was probably only twenty yards east, she figured, and that would be much easier.

Sweat drenched her; it made her feel awful along with her self-disgust and knowing that she'd likely smoke the rest of her stash to night. Flecks of gra.s.s and field dust caked her face and crept down her blouse. Even with her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she had to feel more than see as she cut across the field. If I'm only ten degrees off track, I could wind up walking a mile in this stuff before I get to the path. But so be it. At least she'd disposed of the body.

Thank you! she celebrated when the rows of stalks at last dumped her onto the ser vice path. But- Jesus...

Her heart seemed to split in her chest at the sudden clatter of engine noise that caused her to dive backward into the field and lay still. Who the h.e.l.l's driving here at this hour!

She froze only a few feet deep behind the gra.s.s when headlights wavered on the accessway.

A vehicle roared by, causing Judy's teeth to chatter. She'd only had a glimpse but that was enough to discern the vehicle: the black step van.

And the other rapist was no doubt driving it.

She didn't allow herself to move for many minutes. Why's he out here now? And where's he going? Was he going to the house, to question her as to the whereabouts of his accomplice? How good would that look if he sees me walking out of this field when his buddy's missing? She waited minutes more until she finally stepped back out into the path. Just walk slow and quiet, and keep your eyes and ears open. But before she could embark to the house, something seemed to float in the air-the most distant sound.

She froze in place, straining her auditory powers. Voices, she determined. Then: Silence.

She looked behind her and could barely make out the more narrow path that led to the odd clearing.

There'd been light back there two nights ago, bright ones, but now...

Only the faintest light could be detected, the dullest yellow radiance.

A minute later, that radiance seemed to turn blue.

I don't know what's going on, and I don't care. But then her heart twisted in her chest yet again when, minutes later, she heard more motor noise. She dove back into the gra.s.s.

More headlights wavered, but this time two cars-a black four-door sedan and a station wagon-cruised by very slowly. Judy's frustration raged, even over her creeping withdrawal: What are all these people doing in the middle of a friggin' switchgra.s.s field in the middle of the friggin' night! She couldn't imagine. Neither vehicle bore any state agriculture crests, so who were they?

Friends of the man in the black van?

Again she waited in the gra.s.s is case more came along. Half an hour later she crept back out and walked home. At the end of the path she was about to step across the front road when- Not AGAIN!

Still one more vehicle intruded on her. This time she could only quickly step back into the rows to keep from being seen. It was a car on the main road, and it was slowing down.

It stopped right in front of the house. Its windows were up; she couldn't see the driver. A two-door sedan this time, and lighter in color.

She heard a dull clack. The car sat a moment, then slowly drove away.

Was that...Mr. Croter's car? she wondered, then wondered harder what it could've been doing. She skimmed quickly across the road, realizing that the unknown visitor had stopped directly in front of her mailbox. Newspaper delivery? But, no. They hadn't subscribed to any papers yet. Nevertheless, she opened the mailbox and found- One envelope.

Can't a girl dump a dead body in peace? She hustled back into the house, turned on the alarm, and rushed to the kitchen.

The bright lights comforted her at once. She turned the envelope over in her hand. Someone had scrawled on it: SETH & JUDY She opened it and unfolded a single sheet.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT A GOLEM IS? more scrawl had been written.

Judy blinked. A golem...

GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AND DON'T COME BACK, the handwriting finished.

III.

In the morning, Judy felt like she looked: on the edge of ruin. The mirror forced her to confront the truth. Dark circles could've pa.s.sed for black eyes, lines going down her already visibly thinning face. She'd used a dented soda can with a hole in it as a makes.h.i.+ft crackpipe. The last piece was smoked by ten A.M.

She left the alarm off. She sat in the living room and simply waited for the specter she knew would come.

I won't kill him today, she resolved. The dissolution of her addiction had her thinking that she'd cop one or two more bags off him first. Then she would quit.

Indeed.

Arms wrapped about herself, she stared at the front door, but screamed when the hand came around from behind and clamped over her mouth.

"You expect me to come in the front?"

Her body arched back when he lifted her up.

His lips brushed her ear. "If it was up to me, I'd kill your a.s.s, but I need to know where my buddy is." He shoved her away, where she fell with a squeal to the couch.

"What?"

The stocking mask compressed his face. "You had a visitor yesterday, didn't ya? Where is he?"

"Who, your partner in crime?" she defied. "How would I know where he went?"