evil.
Anyone coming for them would have to come to get them. The field of fire belonged to Sam and his people.
The trucks were safely parked behind the walls of the old home. Each person knew his or her position and what they had to do. Cans of gasoline had been placed around the ridge, ready to be set ablaze by Molotov cocktails. Weapons were cleaned and checked. They had all eaten, the fires doused. They napped in the waning hours of day.
They would need all their strength this night.
At full dark, the rolling prairie became alive with evil: on foot, on horseback, in cars and trucks and jeeps. The un-Godly sought out the Godly. The Godless had no tactics except to charge, they did this in waves, running up the hill. During a break in the firing, Chester said, 'This takes me back some years, to the Pacific. The Japs would come at us just like this, screaming, in wave after wave. We'd stack them up like cord-wood and still they'd come at us.' He glanced at his wife. Her face was streaked with dirt and gunpowder. 'You all right, honey?'
She forced a grin. 'I'll make it.'
'Good girl. Hang in there.'
And then there was no more time for talk, as the night filled with two-legged evil, running up the hill, toward the home, straight into the guns of God.
'Hit the gas!' Sam yelled, and cocktails went spinning through the air, igniting the gas cans with dynamite taped to them. The earth shook under the impact.
The air became thick with the acrid stink of gunsmoke, gas fumes, smoke, and the stench of searing, burning flesh. Hearing was momentarily impaired by the booming, yammering, cracking of weapons. Nostrils became insulted, eyes teared and reddened.
Abruptly, an eerie silence fell on the prairie.
'What's happening?' Wade called.
Sam glanced at his watch, the luminous hands glowing. 'It's over. It's one minute past midnight. They can't move on God's day.'
'There is something that bothers me, Sam,' Chester said, screwing a new barrel on his Grease-gun, discarding the old warped barrel. Breakfast over, the nine relaxed, cleaning weapons, filling old whiskey bottles with gasoline, making Molotov cocktails. Making ready for war on God's day.
Sam looked up from his work. 'They have access to explosives just as we do. They could have blown us out of any place we've been. Why didn't they?'
'Because they want me alive,' the minister said. 'For more than one reason, I think.' He didn't elaborate. 'It would be quite a coup for them, taking me.'
Jane Ann touched his hand. 'Nydia?'
Sam nodded. 'Yes.' He rose to his feet. 'Let's take a drive, folks.' 'Where?' Tony asked.
The minister smiled that grim warrior's smile. 'Whitfield.'
Up a slight grade, and Whitfield came into view. Sam stopped his little convoy and got out of his pickup, standing in the center of the state road. His group gathered around.
All were visibly nervous, Wade asking, 'Are we just going straight in, Sam? There must be two thousand people down there!'
Sam looked down at Whitfield. 'We're going in just like the Cavalry. One pass through town. We are going to burn down the town, but not today. We're just going to give them a little taste of what's in store for them.'
'And they're going to sit back and let us do it?' Miles asked. 'Without a fight?'
'No.' Sam shook his head. 'They'll fight. They're on home ground and they can. So let's be quick about this. Hit hard, then get out. Cut, slash, and run. Don't bunch up, but do stay in a convoy.'
'We scare them,' Chester said. 'Show them we're not afraid of them. Is that it?'
'Exactly, Ches.'
'I feel as though someone, or some
'We are being watched,' Sam affirmed her suspicions. 'Just remember this, those . . . things down there are very much afraid of us. We've taken everything they can throw at us, and we've shoved it right down their throats. Now we're taking the fight to them, so let's do it.
'I'll take the lead truck, with Janey driving. Wade, you and Anita second. Miles and Doris third. Chester, you take the drag with Faye driving and Tony up front. Okay? Let's do it.'
The convoy rolled into Whitfield at forty miles per hour, turning Royal Street into fire and smoke. They cut north, up Branford, tossing Molotov cocktails and dynamite, the gas-filled bottles exploding against houses, on automobiles parked along the road.
But Sam was unable to toss the cocktail at the parsonage. Wilder stood on the steps, Nydia at his side, and some force from their eyes prevented him from hurling the gas bomb. They stood smiling at Sam, Wilder's arms folded across his chest, quietly acquiescing to the minister's move. The eyes of the witch and the warlock seemed to say: Very well, this round is yours, Balon. But the fight is a long way from being over.
Sam's neighbor and onetime friend, Max Steiner ran into the street, screaming curses at Sam. The preacher tossed the cocktail at him, engulfing the man in a ball of fire.
The convoy had stopped in front of the parsonage, all of them seemingly mesmerized by Wilder and Nydia. Chester emptied a full clip from his Greaser at them, but the bullets seemed not to touch either of them. They laughed at him. 'I don't believe this!' Chester said in astonishment. 'To hell with both of you!' Then he smiled at his words, his grin fading as Nydia arrogantly waved at him.
Chester could not resist giving them the middle finger.
They burst out laughing.
The convoy rolled on, up Cottonwood Street, leaving behind them death and fire. The Satan-worshippers ran into the street and the convoy rolled over them, leaving crushed bodies and a trail of crimson from the tires.
'Let's get out of here,' Sam yelled. 'Don't stop for anybody or anything. Head for the Dig site.'
Jane Ann drove the pickup expertly, dodging and weaving through the possessed town. 'What do we do there?' she shouted.
'Stakes!'
'The foolish, brave man,' Wilder complimented Sam. 'What I would not give to have him with us.'
Nydia cupped her breasts with her hands, feeling the nipples grow in excitement. 'I will have a son by Balon. What a demon he would be—strong and fearless.'
'That, my dear, is a very good idea. I must warn you, Nydia: I have heard your conversations with the Master.'
'And I yours, Black.'
And the devil then spoke, 'You will, Black, if necessary, give your life to see that her wish is fulfilled. I
'You heard?' Wilder asked.
'I heard. Black? He is going to destroy the site.'
'I know.'
'What can we do?'
'Nothing. This is God's day.'
The nine went from trailer to trailer at the Dig, until the area was filled with the putrid odor of Undead finally dying.
They drove their stakes into sleeping demons. It was a grisly morning in Fork County as the stakes pierced the hearts of the Godless, the howling cries echoing over the rock circle with its carving, over the valley of The Digging. Blood splattered the walls as heavy strokes from hammers drove the wooden points into flesh, past bone, smashing into pumping hearts, ending the evil. Wailing of the damned ripped into living ears as sweat from the
