parts. I reckon I’m capable of defending myself. Myrtle and Marsha, too.”
“You people seem to think I’m making a request. I’m not. This is an order.”
“I’m not in the army anymore,” Donny said. “And I don’t take orders.”
“No?” Levi glanced at Marsha and then back to him. “Would you like to know what I think, Donny? I think you’re afraid to be left alone with Marsha. I think there’s something unsaid between the two of you, and whatever it is, it scares you to death.”
Donny opened his mouth to respond, but said nothing. He stared at Levi. The tips of his ears turned red.
“I want all of you to remain here. Remember, as long as you stay inside the house and don’t try to leave, you’ll be safe. You have my word on that.”
Before any of them could argue anymore, Levi turned and hurried into the foyer. Sensing nothing outside, he opened the door, stepped outside onto the porch and closed the door behind him. The coast was clear. He whispered a fervent prayer, reciting from memory a benediction against enemies, sickness and misfortune that his father had taught him long ago.
“The blessing that came from Heaven, from God the Father, when the true living Son was born, be with me at all times. The holy cross of God, on which He suffered His bitter torments, bless me today and forever. The three holy nails which were driven through the holy hands and feet of Jesus Christ, bless me today and forever. The spear by which His holy side was pierced and opened, protect me now, today and forever. May the blood of Christ and the Holy Spirit protect me from my enemies, and from everything which might be injurious to my body and my soul. Bless me, oh you five holy wounds, in order that all my enemies may be driven before me and bound and banished. All those who hate you must be silent before me, and they may not inflict the least injury upon me, or my house or my premises. And likewise, all those who intend attacking and wounding me either spiritually or physically shall be defenseless, weak and conquered. The cross of Christ be with me. The cross of Christ overcomes all water and every fire. The cross of Christ overcomes all weapons. The cross of Christ is a perfect sign and blessing to my soul. Now I pray that the holy corpse of Christ bless me against all evil things, words, and works.”
When he was finished, Levi made the sign of the cross four times, to the north, south, east and west.
“Guide my hand. Your will be done, as always.”
He took a deep breath and stepped off the porch.
He felt naked and exposed. The prayer was the last of his powwow. From this point on, to defeat his enemy, he’d have to rely on methods and benedictions that were far older and far less holy than the one he’d just used.
***
Marsha slowly unclenched her fist and let go of Donny’s arm. He winced. She glanced up and gasped. She hadn’t realized it until just now, but her fingernails had dug into his skin, leaving angry red marks.
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
The group stared at each other in silence for a moment.
Then Myrtle tiptoed over to the window and cautiously looked outside.
“Is he gone?” Esther asked.
“I think so,” she whispered. “I don’t see him, at least.”
“Well, good riddance then.”
Myrtle let the blinds fall closed and spun around.
“Esther! There’s no call for that. He’s your boarder.”
“And he can leave here come sunup. I won’t have him under my roof another night.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Marsha bristled at this. “He’s fighting for you. For all of us. How can you say that about him?”
“Because he’s not doing this for us. You get to be as old as me, Marsha, and you’ll see. I know how people are. I see through them. That man may think he’s fighting for us, but if you really look at him, you’ll see he’s fighting for himself—and the way he’s doing it is simply un-Christian. I won’t have it here. Better to end up dead than in concert with the Devil. I know that you’ve been through a lot tonight, but trust me. Levi would sacrifice every single one of us if it meant defeating the enemy. I can see it in him.”
“Listen to you,” Myrtle said. “Do you hear yourself? This is a far cry from what you were saying about him earlier.”
“Earlier, I didn’t know. He’s not what he seems.”
Myrtle shook her head. “But he was praying, right before he left. I heard him whispering a prayer to God—the same God you believe in.”
“Not my God.”
“Fuck this shit.” Donny started for the foyer. “I don’t need to hear this crap.”
“What are you doing?” Marsha grabbed for him again, not caring if she hurt him or not, but Donny shrugged her off. When he responded, he didn’t look at her.
“I’m going with him. Somebody needs to watch his back.”
Marsha put her hands to her face and stared at him, the realization sinking in.
“He was right, wasn’t he? Levi was right. You’re afraid to be left here with me.”
Without a word, Donny strode toward the foyer. Seconds later, they heard the door open and close.
“It doesn’t matter,” Randy said. His tone was sullen. “None of us are gonna escape anyway. Nobody ever gets out of this town. Not before, and especially not now.”
With Donny’s silent departure confirming her question, Marsha collapsed onto the couch and put her arm around Randy. They comforted one another as best they could and waited to see who would return— Levi, Donny . . . or the crows.
NINE
The darkness deepened. The moonlight dimmed. Thick, sluggish clouds crawled across the sky, blocking the feeble stars. Gone were the gunshots and screams. Gone, too, were people fleeing down the streets or across yards and vacant fields. All across Brinkley Springs, the dwindling number of survivors huddled in their homes and basements, tool sheds and root cellars, storefronts and barns, cars and trucks, praying for help and waiting for the inevitable.
And one by one, the inevitable found them. The shadows arrived . . . hungry.
Stu Roseman was pulled, kicking and screaming, from beneath his queen-size bed before being disemboweled. Mara Dobbs was yanked from her closet, where she’d hidden beneath a pile of blankets and towels, and was then drowned in her own toilet. Don and Jamie Mahan cowered inside their Ford Explorer, desperately trying every few minutes to start the unresponsive vehicle until both it and them were torn apart. Jerrod Hintz and Scott Balzer were discovered hiding in the butcher shop’s walk-in freezer and were clubbed to death with half- frozen slabs of meat. Candy Winters ended up with her head sticking out of her vagina. Toby Paulson was suffocated with his own severed penis. Bob Parker was strangled with his own intestines. Rocky Quesada and Joy Oliva had their heads repeatedly bashed together until both were nothing but paste. Aaron Milano was impaled on a flagpole. His two cats were impaled above him. Jeremy Garner, Peggy Stanfield and Michelle Broadhurst were discovered cowering in a far, dark corner of Herb Swafford’s hayloft. They were stabbed, cut, chopped and impaled by a variety of Herb’s farm tools—pitchforks, axes, shovels and rakes. Herb’s head and entrails lay in the mud outside the barn. His pigs would probably have eaten the scraps if the pigs hadn’t been killed, too. So were his cows, sheep and one lone horse.
No matter where they hid, no one was missed. No matter how desperately they tried to escape or how valiantly they fought to save their lives, the end result was the same. Everyone had their turn. Everyone died. The shadows were as methodical and precise as they were ravenous and cruel. Human candles were snuffed in the night, never to shine again, and after their souls were devoured, the shadows moved on, leaving corpses in their wake.
A small few died of natural causes. Keith David, Rebecca Copeland and Bobbi Russo all died of heart attacks brought on by fear and stress. Tim Draper and Perry Wayne suffered massive strokes that left them paralyzed and unconscious, and ultimately breathless. Don Hammerton tripped while running down the street and cracked his head open on the curb. Robin Clark suffered a seizure, bit through her tongue and bled to death. In each of their cases, their souls drifted slowly upward, flaring brightly but briefly as they were absorbed by the invisible barrier.
