The Devil's Touch

'I wish I had a grenade,' Sam muttered.

'You'd kill the children, too,' Monty told him. 'My God, Sam. What do you have running in your veins, ice water?'

'Those 'kids,' as you call them, are dead already, Monty,' Sam whispered. 'Man—you have to accept that. Don't hesitate to shoot when the time comes. I mean it. Let me show you, Monty.' He raised his voice. 'Who cut off your father's testicles and penis?'

'You mean his cock and balls?' a girl asked.

'Yes.'

'Me and mother. We tried to get him to fuck a boy up the ass but he wouldn't do it. So we cut them off. You should have heard him holler when we done it.'

'Was the boy his son?'

'Yeah. We give him to some guys. They fucked him all night. I think he's dead, or something.'

Sam cut his eyes to Monty. 'Now you see what I'm talking about?'

Horror leaped into the man's eyes. 'Their own father? Their own brother!'

'Their father is Satan,' Sam told him. 'I don't know what else has to happen to convince you of that fact. But you'd damn well better get your act together. Because if you don't, you're going to die and take a lot of us with you in the process.'

Sam hooked one toe of his boot into a crack in the stone fence and heaved himself up. He burned half a clip into the group standing on the other side. He dropped back to face a horrified Monty Draper.

'You killed those people—those kids! You shot them in cold blood.'

'If he hadn't of done it,' Joe called from the second floor, 'I damn sure was goin' to.'

Sam was rapidly getting irritated at Monty. 'Like I said, Monty. Get your shit together. And do it quickly.'

TUESDAY NIGHT

'Things roamin' around on the other side of the fence,' Joe radioed from the second floor. 'They ain't them Beasts, but they ain't really human neither, I don't think. I don't know what the hell they are, tell the truth. Look to me like they're all tore up.'

'What are they doing?' Sam radioed back.

'Nothin'. Just standin' by the gate lookin' in. Man and a woman, I think. But it's hard to tell. They look familiar to me—kind of.'

Sam cut his eyes to Father Le Moyne. The priest stood up. '1 know,' he said. 'I felt their presence. Now I have to face them.'

'What are you two talking about?' Barbara asked. The woman looked as if she was about to come unhinged.

'Daniel's brother and sister-in-law,' John told her. 'They've become part of the walking dead. They're here, looking for Daniel.'

'Oh, come on, John!' his wife blurted. 'Now this is getting totally out of hand. This is a nightmare. I'm asleep. None of this is real.'

'Barbara—' John opened his mouth.

'No!' she screamed at the roomful of people. 'I just, by God, will not take any more of this. I can't. I want out of here, John.'

Before anyone could respond, a mocking male voice was heard, speaking through a bullhorn. 'Oh, Barbara. Barbara, honey, come on out and play with us, Barbara. You remember me, don't you, Barbara?' He laughed, an ugly, evil ring to the savage bark of dark humor. The voice came from the east side of the grounds.

John Morton sighed and would not meet the eyes of those in the room.

'Cut the lights,' Sam told Mille.

She plunged the room into darkness.

'Come on out, Barbara,' the voice called. '1 got something long and thick and hard for you. Come on, baby. Don't you remember how you used to love to lick on it?'

John rose from his chair and walked out of the room, a stiffness to his back. He left the room as if that act alone would prevent him from hearing the vulgarities coming from beyond the fence.

Barbara sat with tears running down her face. She sobbed quietly.

'Come on, honey!' the voice boomed through the night. 'This is ol' Duke. Don't you remember how you used to love to get on top and sit on it? You said it felt good going in that way. Sure you remember. Come on out and play, Barbara. We'll be waiting.'

Viv went to the sobbing woman. She pulled her from the chair and took her by the arm, leading her from the darkened room and into another room just off the hallway.

The bullhorn fell silent. Joe said, '1 feel sorry for both them people. It ain't John's fault the way the Good Lord made him, and it ain't really her fault the way she is. Some folks just can't help the way they are.' He walked toward the archway leading out of the room. 'I got me a rifle upstairs. I think I'll go see if I can't get that Duke Edwards in gunsights. If I do, 1 guarantee you, he's gonna be one dead son-of-a-bitch.'

'Good luck,' Monty said grimly, his comment surprising Sam.

Sam glanced at Father Le Moyne standing quietly in the heavy darkness. 'You know what we have to do,