Darkly The Thunder (24 page)

“That's ten-four.”

“It's so sure it's going to win,” Sunny said. “My heart almost stopped when you called it that, Gordie.”

“I had to be sure.” He turned a corner, and the hospital loomed in front of them.

“Oh, Lord!” Sunny breathed.

“Relax. We're not going back in there. I just wanted to check it out.”

“Thank you very much.”

Gordie stopped, and they all could see the faces, pale-white in death, looming at the windows of the hospital.

“This will be one of the first places to go up when we bust out of here,” Gordie said, then waited to see if there was any response from the Fury.

Nothing.

“Did you have this in mind when all those crates of explosives were ordered?” Watts asked from the back seat.

“No. Jackson just thought it might be a good idea to have some heavy firepower around when – or if – the time ever came.”

“What all came in those crates?”

“Rockets. Grenades. C-4.” He keyed his mike and called in. “We still clear?”

“Still clear, One. Howie says Sand just told him that the thing is keeping its word this time, because it desperately needs to rest, and this is helping it do that.”

“That's ten-four. Out.” He hung up the mike and said, “I figured that thing had some reason for being so damned agreeable all of a sudden.”

As he turned the unit around in the hospital parking lot, a thrown rock bounced off the side of the vehicle. Gordie used a spotlight to scan the darkness, but could spot no one lurking on the grounds.

“Behind those shrubs,” Watts said.

“Yeah. Got to be.” He continued on, rolling out of the parking lot and back onto the street. “Fury has something up his sleeve for us tonight. But damned if I can figure out what it is.”

“It does enjoy surprises,” Sunny pointed out.

Every light in town suddenly went out.

“And that's all we know about it,” President Marshall told the representatives from a dozen countries, meeting with him in the White House.

Surprisingly, the Russian ambassador was the first to agree to the method of destroying the Fury. “This mass cannot be allowed to grow and spread,” he said. “Each time it devours beings, it grows that much more stronger, and that much more difficult to destroy. Also that much more intelligent. We cannot allow this mass to grow; it must be destroyed.”

“I concur,” the Canadian said.

The others in the room quickly agreed.

“And you have no plan on rescuing those trapped in the town?” the German ambassador asked.

“I'm afraid not,” President Marshall replied. “We know they have some plan, but they're not talking about it because the Fury might intercept the messages.”

“The little children trapped in there distress me,” the French ambassador said. “Howie and Angel. They are the only young people not affected by the mass?”

“As far as we know.”

“We must have those tapes the reporter is gathering from the mass,” the English ambassador said. “They will give us an insight to our past that we might never again have.”

“We're all in agreement on that.”

The ambassador from Japan turned his head to once more gaze at the TV screen showing the videotapes. “We are actually viewing life after death. This is the most incredible moment of my life.”

“It shall certainly get much more interesting,” the Russian told him. “Especially if the Fury grows much stronger.”

 

 

The big emergency generator at the sheriff's office kicked on automatically ten seconds after the power went out.

But the TV set showing the events of thirty years past never faltered or dimmed.

“How is that possible?” Hillary asked, pointing to the set.

“I'm not sure I even want to know,” Leon said. “I just want out of here—in one piece.”

Gordie had ordered all personnel back to the sheriff's office.

ALL BETS ARE OFF NOW, GUNFIGHTER.

“Why?” Gordie asked.

YOU CRAPPED OUT BY RETURNING.

“Fine with me. I prefer the daylight anyway.”

WHAT A CHICKEN-SHIT.

The Fury left them.

“Gordie,” Watts called, standing in front of the television. “Look at this. This is when and how Joey and Tuddie died.”

Everyone gathered around.

The young couple in the custom car had just topped the crest of Pioneer Mountain and started the roll down, when Joey stepped on the brake pedal. Everyone watching the set could feel the mushiness of the pedal.

“Oh, God,” Hillary whispered.

“Damn,” Joey's voice came out of the speakers as he realized what was happening.

A heavy invisible force gripped the young couple in a cold grasp. Those watching thirty years in the present could feel the clammy touch.

“The Force?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Watts told him. “Death.”

“It is time,” a heavy voice sprang from the speakers.

“Joey!” the blonde said. “Did you hear that. What is that voice?”

“But I want to live!” Joey said.

“Who are you talking to, Joey?” Tuddie asked. “What's wrong with the car? Why are we going so fast?”

“Sorry,” the Force said. “All this was decided long before you took your present shape.”

“Joey!” Tuddie screamed. “I'm scared!”

“Then take me, and let her live!” Joey shouted.

“Sorry.”

Forty-five miles per hour down one of the most dangerous grades in the Rockies. “Hang on, babe,” Joey said. “I'm going to slide it into the rocks on your side and stop this thing.”

“No, you're not,” the Force said.

Joey fought the wheel, trying to ram one side into the embankment. They were going too fast.

“Why are you doing this?” Joey shouted.

“I'm not. Don't worry. Sand will join you very soon.”

“Jesus Christ!” he muttered.

“He has nothing to do with this.”

The Force had completely enveloped the young couple in a dark mist.

“Joey!” Tuddie, cried. “What is that dark stuff all around us? I can't see anything, Joey.”

“Hang on, honey.”

Sixty-five miles an hour. Joey knew their time on earth was nearly through.

Seventy miles an hour. Joey knew the next curve would be the one to punch their tickets, for that long ride across that dark river.

“Did those damn rich punks from Monte Rio cut my brake cables?” Joey shouted.

“Yes, they did.”

“Damn them all to hell!” Joey screamed.

“Oh, yes. Sand will see to that.” The Force was gripping them both in a damp, heavy pressure. “Soon,” it whispered.

“All right, God,” Joey said. “Take me, but let her live.”

“Sorry,” the Force told him. “He has nothing to do with it either.”

They left the road at eighty, going over the high side, sailing through hundreds of feet of nothing.

“I love you, Tuddie!” Joey shouted, a second before they impacted with earth.

The car did not explode when it hit the ground. Joey and Tuddie were holding hands when the searchers found the crushed and mangled bodies.

“There you are, Al,” Gordie pointed out the much younger highway patrolman standing with Sand by his side.

“Look at Sand's eyes,” Lynn said. “They're changing from gray to yellow. They're wolf eyes.”

“I didn't notice,” Watts said. “He had just about lost it by then, and I didn't notice.”

“I don't think it would have made any difference,” Howie said. “All that was planned by a higher power.”

“But who?” Dean asked. “That . . . voice said that God had nothing to do with.”

No one had an answer to that.

“Inspect the brakes,” Sand said.

Watts ordered it done.

“They were tampered with,” the patrolman told them.

Watts cussed as Sand began yelling out names. The same ones who had been at the drive-in.

The scene shifted. Those Sand had named were being questioned, and questioned hard, by Al Watts. They each alibied the others.

“Naturally,” Sand said to Watts. The scenes were shifting very fast. The viewers thirty years later had to struggle to keep up.

The eight young men from Monte Rio were picked up and questioned again by Watts. He could not break their story.

“That's just about the way I figured it would be,” Sand said to Watts.

“Certainly,” the Force whispered. “Matters were settled long ago. It won't be much longer. Soon.”

The young Watts looked all around his office. He was certain he had heard somebody whispering.

The screen went dark.

“I remember thinking at that time,” Watts said, “that the case was odd from the outset. I felt then it was getting macabre. Little did I know.”

 

 

Gordie woke up to the sounds of screaming. One of the college girls was standing at a boarded-up window, screaming and pointing out into the street. Gordie threw off his blankets and ran to her side, looking out the window.

He had to lean against the wall for a moment, recovering from the sight.

Many of the people he had helped to bag were now dancing naked in the street, under the brilliance of moonlight, waving their body bags gracefully. Others had one end of the bags tied around their necks, using them as capes.

“I can't take much more of this,” the young woman said. “I just can't!”

“Steady, now,” Gordie said, putting his arms around her. “Just hang on.”

“We're never going to get out of here!” she wailed, all the pent-up fears she'd held back surfacing. “We're all going to die in here!”

WHY DON'T YOU LAY HER DOWN AND GIVE HER A GOOD OLD-FASHIONED FUCKING, GUNFIGHTER? THAT'D MAKE YOU BOTH FEEL BETTER.

Gordie, holding the trembling girl in his arms, said, “Why don't you kiss my ass, Fury?”

OH, THAT'S GOOD, THAT'S GOOD. I LIKE IT WHEN YOU GET YOUR GREASY DANDER UP. DO BOP DE DO BOP DE DO BOP, DE DO.

A bleary-eyed Howie had gotten out of his cot when the screaming started. He called from his computer room, “It's gone, Sheriff.”

“Didn't take it as long to regain its strength this time, did it?” Hillary asked, walking over and gently taking Sandy's hand, pulling her away from Gordie.

“Unfortunately, no,” Gordie said. “And it may be getting ready to enlarge its territory. Howie, warn the Rangers at the checkpoints; have them pull back a half mile immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gordie turned back to the street. The naked, rotting dancers had disappeared.

“What next?” he muttered wearily.

The TV set clicked on and Watts, despite all that was going on around him, laughed out loud.

“Tell me,” Gordie said, walking over. “I could use a good laugh right now.”

“Right in the middle of all the fighting between the hot rodders and the rich shits, I had men everywhere. That's Morg,” he said, pointing to the screen, “towing in one of my men's cars that had broken down on the highway.”

“You can't see the trooper,” Jackson said.

“No,” Watts chuckled. “He's got his hat brim pulled down low and is hunkered down in the seat, so nobody can recognize him.”

The scene shifted.

“Who's that with you, Al?” Mack asked. Then took a closer look. “Oh, hell. That's that fool Governor Bradford.”

“Was he as stupid as Siatos, Al?” Gordie asked.

“Just about. I remember this meeting.”

“What was it all about?”

“Bradford had called us all in, then ordered us to pull our men in. I told him it was a mistake. That the shit was about to hit the fan.”

“Was this before the deaths of Joey and Tuddie?” Sunny asked.

“Yes. Several months before.”

“Goddamnit, Al,” Governor Bradford's voice came out of the speaker. “Forget about the hot rodders. They're all a bunch of yellow punks. Nothing is going to happen. Hell, the month of December passed without a single fight, didn't it?”

“Sand called a halt to it, Governor. He ordered his people not to gather, not to run the roads, and to ignore the shit-heads. If we pull out, and anything happens to any member of any club that is aligned with Sand and the Pack, all hell will break loose. Sir, you don't know Sand. He can be hell's own creation. I have a mental picture of a Viking berserker, and his face is Sand.”

“You also have a very active imagination, Captain. Hell, toss the punk in jail.”

“He hasn't done anything that we can charge him with.”

“Then make up something and toss him in the jug,” the governor said with a wink.

Watts did not return the wink; just stared at the state's highest executive with disgust in his eyes.

“Pull your men out and send them back to their regular duties, Captain Watts,” the governor ordered.

The screen went dark.

“Why did Sand go back and show us this?” Gordie questioned. “Why did he pull something out of sequence?”

“To tell you that you were right in ordering the Army to pull back,” Howie called. “Get it?”

Gordie smiled. “Yeah, Howie. I got it, and you're probably right.” He turned his head and cocked it. “Listen.”

They all heard it: the sounds of marching feet, growing louder.

HUP TWO THREE FOUR. GIMMIE YOUR LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT. COUNT CADENCE, COUNT!

Grunts and yells and unearthly moaning sprang out of the mouths of the marching dead, as they counted cadence up the street.

COLUMN, HALT! LEFT FACE!

“Now what?” Jackson said, moving to the boarded windows and looking out. “Jesus God!” he muttered. “Grab something to defend yourselves with, people. I think they're going to rush us.”

Gordie looked out through a gun slit. The street directly in front of the sheriffs office was jammed with men and women, some of them walking dead, grinning hideously through rotting lips. Others included people that Gordie hoped were in hiding from the Fury.

He realized, finally, that his little group was all that was left in the town unaffected by the Fury's macabre sense of humor.

“They'll overwhelm us,” Bos said.

“Maybe not,” Watts told him. “Gas won't affect those already dead, but it will turn back the living. How about it, Gordie?”

“Everybody into masks,” the sheriff ordered. “Jackson, get your people ready with tear gas grenades. Lee, get the tear gas guns.”

GOOD MOVE, GORD-HEAD. SOMETIMES YOU AND THE OLD COP AMAZE ME WITH YOUR ASTUTENESS.

When no one replied, Fury said, ARE YOU ALL READY TO HAVE SOME FUN?

“Give it your best shot, bastard!” Watts said.

Watts was slapped down to the floor by an invisible blow. He got to his knees, grabbed hold of the edge of a desk, and pulled himself to his feet, one side of his mouth leaking blood.

Angel ran to Watts's side. “You turd!” she screamed at the Fury, her voice muffled through the gas mask.

SNIPPY LITTLE BITCH.

“Coward!” Angel yelled.

CHARGE! the Fury roared, the force of its voice rattling windows along the street.

The mob surged forward.

 

 

Those outside the barricades just made it back in time. Scientists with monitoring equipment recorded the Fury's advance of another quarter of a mile.