Mammoth Book of Best New Horror (49 page)

    "With that, he slapped Mary Lynn on the ass and rode off with her."

    "Sounds like my kind of guy," Bill said.

    "I have become irritated with you now," Jubil said. "Might I suggest you shut your mouth before I pistol-whip you."

    Bill glared at Jubil, but the Reverend's gaze was as dead and menacing as the barrels of Old Timer's shotgun.

    "Rest of the story is kind of grim," Old Timer said. "Gimet took her off to his house, and had his way with her. So many times he damn near killed her, and then he turned her loose, or got so drunk she was able to get loose. Time she walked down Cemetery Road, made it back to town, well, she was bleeding so bad from having been used so rough, she collapsed. She lived a day and died from loss of blood. Her mother, out of her sick bed, rode a mule out there to the cemetery on Cemetery Road. I told you she was Indian, and she knew some Indian ways, and she knew about them old gods that wasn't none of the gods of her people, but she still knew about them.

    "She knew some signs to draw in cemetery dirt. I don't know the whole of it, but she did some things, and she did it on some old grave out there, and the last thing she did was she cut her own throat, died right there, her blood running on top of that grave and them pictures she drawed in the dirt."

    "Don't see how that done her no good," the deputy said.

    "Maybe it didn't, but folks think it did," Old Timer said. "Community that had been pushed around by Gimet, finally had enough, went out there in mass to hang his ass, shoot him, whatever it took. Got to his cabin they found Gimet dead outside his shack. His eyes had been torn out, or blown out is how they looked. Skin was peeled off his head, just leaving the skull and a few hairs. His chest was ripped open, and his insides was gone, exceptin' the bones in there. And them bees of his had nested in the hole in his chest, had done gone about making honey. Was buzzing out of that hole, his mouth, empty eyes, nose, or where his nose used to be. I figure they'd rolled him over, tore off his pants, they'd have been coming out of his asshole."

    "How come you weren't out there with them?" Bill said. "How come this is all stuff you heard?"

    "Because I was a coward when it come to Gimet," Old Timer said. "That's why. Told myself wouldn't never be a coward again, no matter what. I should have been with them. Didn't matter no how. He was done good and dead, them bees all in him. What was done then is the crowd got kind of loco, tore off his clothes, hooked his feet up to a horse and dragged him through a blackberry patch, them bees just bustin' out and hummin' all around him. All that ain't right, but I think I'd been with them, knowing who he was and all the things he'd done, I might have been loco too. They dumped him out on the cemetery to let him rot, took that girl's mother home to be buried some place better. Wasn't no more than a few nights later that folks started seeing Gimet. They said he walked at night, when the moon was at least half, or full, like it is now. Number of folks seen him, said he loped alongside the road, following their horses, grabbing hold of the tail if he could, trying to pull horse and rider down, or pull himself up on the back of their mounts. Said them bees was still in him. Bees black as flies, and angry whirling all about him, and coming from inside him. Worse, there was a larger number of folks took that road that wasn't never seen again. It was figured Gimet got them."

    "Horse shit," the deputy said. "No disrespect, Old Timer. You've treated me all right, that's for sure. But a ghost chasing folks down. I don't buy that."

    "Don't have to buy it," Old Timer said. "I ain't trying to sell it to you none. Don't have to believe it. And I don't think it's no ghost anyway. I think that girl's mother, she done something to let them old gods out for awhile, sent them after that bastard, used her own life as a sacrifice, that's what I think. And them gods, them things from somewhere else, they ripped him up like that. Them bees is part of that too. They ain't no regular honey bee. They're some other kind of bees. Some kind of fitting death for a bee raiser, is my guess."

    "That's silly," the deputy said.

    "I don't know," Jubil said. "The Indian woman may only have succeeded in killing him in this life. She may not have understood all that she did. Didn't know she was giving him an opportunity to live again… Or maybe that is the curse. Though there are plenty others have to suffer for it."

    "Like the folks didn't do nothing when Gimet was alive," Old Time said. " Folks like me that let what went on go on."

    Jubil nodded. "Maybe."

    The deputy looked at Jubil. "Not you too, Reverend. You should know better than that. There ain't but one true god, and ain't none of that hoodoo business got a drop of truth to it."

    "If there's one god," Jubil said, "there can be many. They are at war with one another, that's how it works, or so I think. I've seen some things that have shook my faith in the one true god, the one I'm servant to. And what is our god but hoodoo? It's all hoodoo, my friend."

    "Okay. What things have you seen, Reverend?" the deputy asked.

    "No use describing it to you, young man," Jubil said. "You wouldn't believe me. But I've recently come from Mud Creek. It had an infestation of a sort. That town burned down, and I had a hand in it."

    "Mud Creek," Old Timer said. "I been there."

    "Only thing there now," Jubil said, "is some charred wood."

    "Ain't the first time it's burned down," Old Timer said. "Some fool always rebuilds it, and with it always comes some kind of ugliness. I'll tell you straight. I don't doubt your word at all, Reverend."

    "Thing is," the deputy said, "I don't believe in no haints. That's the shortest road, and it's the road I'm gonna take."

    "I wouldn't," Old Timer said.

    "Thanks for the advice. But no one goes with me or does, that's the road I'm taking, provided it cuts a day off my trip."

    "I'm going with you," Jubil said. "My job is striking at evil. Not to walk around it."

    "I'd go during the day," Old Timer said. "Ain't no one seen Gimet in the day, or when the moon is thin or not at all. But way it is now, it's full, and will be again tomorrow night. I'd ride hard tomorrow, you're determined to go. Get there as soon as you can, before dark."

    "I'm for getting there," the deputy said. "I'm for getting back to Nacogdoches, and getting this bastard in a cell."

    "I'll go with you," Jubil said. "But I want to be there at night, I want to take Deadman's Road at that time. I want to see if Gimet is there. And if he is, send him to his final death. Defy those dark gods the girl's mother called up. Defy them and loose my god on him. What I'd suggest is you get some rest, deputy. Old Timer here can watch a bit, then I'll take over. That way we all get some rest. We can chain this fellow to a tree outside, we have to. We should both get slept up to the gills, then leave here midday, after a good dinner, head out for Deadman's Road. Long as we're there by nightfall."

    "That ought to bring you right on it," Old Timer said. "You take Deadman's Road. When you get to the fork, where the road ends, you go right. Ain't no one ever seen Gimet beyond that spot, or in front of where the road begins. He's tied to that stretch, way I heard it."

    "Good enough," the deputy said. "I find this all foolish, but if I can get some rest, and have you ride along with me, Reverend, then I'm game. And I'll be fine with getting there at night."

    Next morning they slept late, and had an early lunch. Beans and hard biscuits again, a bit of stewed squirrel. Old Timer had shot the rodent that morning while Jubil watched Bill sit on his ass, his hands chained around a tree in the front yard. Inside the cabin, the deputy had continued to sleep.

    But now they all sat outside eating, except for Bill.

    "What about me?" Bill asked, tugging at his chained hands.

    "When we finish," Old Timer said. "Don't know if any of the squirrel will be left, but we got them biscuits for you. I can promise you some of them. I might even let you rub one of them around in my plate, sop up some squirrel gravy."

    "Those biscuits are awful," Bill said.

    "Ain't they," Old Timer said.

    Bill turned his attention to Jubil. "Preacher, you ought to just go on and leave me and the boy here alone. Ain't smart for you to ride along, 'cause I get loose, ain't just the deputy that's gonna pay. I'll put you on the list."

    "After what I've seen in this life," Jubil said, "you are nothing to me. An insect… So, add me to your list."

    "Let's feed him," the deputy said, nodding at Bill, "and get to moving. I'm feeling rested and want to get this ball started."

    The moon had begun to rise when they rode in sight of Deadman's Road. The white cross road sign was sticking up beside the road. Trees and brush had grown up around it, and between the limbs and the shadows, the crudely painted words on the sign were halfway readable in the waning light. The wind had picked up and was grabbing at leaves, plucking them from the ground, tumbling them about, tearing them from trees and tossing them across the narrow, clay road with a sound like mice scuttling in straw.

    "Fall always depresses me," the deputy said, halting his horse, taking a swig from his canteen.

    "Life is a cycle," Jubil said. "You're born, you suffer, then you're punished."

    The deputy turned in his saddle to look at Jubil. "You ain't much on that resurrection and reward, are you?"

    "No, I'm not."

    "I don't know about you," the deputy said, "but I wish we hadn't gotten here so late. I'd rather have gone through in the day."

    "Thought you weren't a believer in spooks?" Bill said, and made with his now familiar snort. "You said it didn't matter to you."

    The deputy didn't look at Bill when he spoke. "I wasn't here then. Place has a look I don't like. And I don't enjoy temptin' things. Even if I don't believe in them."

    "That's the silliest thing I ever heard," Bill said.

    "Wanted me with you," Jubil said. "You had to wait."

    "You mean to see something, don't you, preacher?" Bill said.

    "If there is something to see," Jubil said.

    "You believe Old Timer's story?" the deputy said. "I mean, really?"

    "Perhaps."

    Jubil clucked to his horse and took the lead.

    When they turned onto Deadman's Road, Jubil paused and removed a small, fat Bible from his saddlebag.

    The deputy paused too, forcing Bill to pause as well. "You ain't as ornery as I thought," the deputy said. "You want the peace of the Bible just like anyone else."

    "There is no peace in this book," Jubil said. "That's a real confusion. Bible isn't anything but a book of terror, and that's how God is: terrible. But the book has power. And we might need it."

    "I don't know what to think about you, Reverend," the deputy said.

    "Ain't nothin' you can think about a man that's gone loco," Bill said. "I don't want to stay with no man that's loco."

    "You get an idea to run, Bill, I can shoot you off your horse," the deputy said. "Close range with my revolver, far range with my rifle. You don't want to try it."

    "It's still a long way to Nacogdoches," Bill said.

    The road was narrow and of red clay. It stretched far ahead like a band of blood, turned sharply to the right around a wooded curve where it was a dark as the bottom of Jonah's whale. The blowing leaves seemed especially intense on the road, scrapping dryly about, winding in the air like giant hornets. The trees, which grew thick, bent in the wind, from right to left. This naturally led the trio to take to the left side of the road.

    The farther they went down the road, the darker it became. By the time they got to the curve, the woods were so thick, and the thunderous skies had grown so dark, the moon was barely visible; its light was as weak as a sick baby's grip.

    When they had travelled for some time, the deputy said, obviously feeling good about it, "There ain't nothing out here 'sides what you would expect. A possum maybe. The wind."

    "Good for you, then," Jubil said. "Good for us all."

    "You sound disappointed to me," the deputy said.

    "My line of work isn't far from yours, Deputy. I look for bad guys of a sort, and try and send them to Hell… Or in some cases, back to Hell."

    And then, almost simultaneous with a flash of lightning, something crossed the road not far in front of them.

    "What the hell was that?" Bill said, coming out of what had been a near stupor.

    "It looked like a man," the deputy said.

    "Could have been," Jubil said. "Could have been."

    "What do you think it was?"

    "You don't want to know."

    "I do."

    "Gimet," Jubil said.

    The sky let the moon loose for a moment, and its light spread through the trees and across the road. In the light there were insects, a large wad of them, buzzing about in the air.

    "Bees," Bill said. "Damn if them ain't bees. And at night. That ain't right."