Carnival (20 page)

He stood for a moment on the porch, fighting a mixture of anger and frustration. A man and a woman were sitting on their front porch, in the house next to Alicia's. They both laughed at him. Martin cut across the yard and walked up to them. He had known the couple all his life.

“You find something amusing in all of this?” he asked them.

“I reckon your wife got fed-up with you and got herself a young buck with some stayin' power,” the man told him, his eyes shining with undisguised viciousness.

The laughter of the man and woman followed him as he drove away.

He could not understand what was happening in his town.

He drove over to Gary's. It was easy to see that the doctor and his wife had been quarreling.

“I pick a bad time?” Martin asked.

“Not really.”

“Not really is right,” Janet said. “I want the kids to leave town and he wants them to stay.”

That's odd, Martin thought. Then decided to keep his mouth out of his friend's family business. He told them about his encounter with Alicia.

Gary, oddly, had nothing to say about it. “Forget her,” the doctor's wife told him.

“Consider it done.”

“We can look after squirt,” Susan said, taking her father's side, a defiant set to her chin. “Me and Rich. Mother wants to stay with Dad. Is that so bad or wrong?”

Janet spread her hands. “I give up.”

Martin voiced his thoughts about them all staying over at his place.

“You're probably right,” his friend agreed. He looked at his wife. She nodded her head in agreement. “Okay, Martin. We'll pack up some clothes and food and meet you over there.”

“You want me to call Joyce and Eddie?” Janet asked.

“Yeah. That'd be fine. Thanks. I'll see you all in a few minutes.” He noticed that Janet's face was pale and her hands were trembling. He winked at her. “Hang in there, kid. We'll make it. We'll put some twenty-year-old rock music on the stereo and have a party.”

She smiled at him. “Like old college times, huh, Martin?”

“Why not?”

Janet's smile faded. “I have to tell you, Martin. Alicia called me earlier this morning. She invited me over. Said we could have a threesome.”

If there was any feeling left in Martin for his wife, it died right then. He nodded his head and left the house. He suddenly had a very bad taste in his mouth.

He drove to the downtown business area. Most stores were closed; what few remained open were doing no business. He almost stopped at Matt's Meat Market for some fresh meat, then changed his mind and drove on past. He drove to his own business offices. The doors were locked. A car pulled into the drive and Martin turned around. Nicole and Audie, in the S.O.'s unit.

“Eerie, isn't it, Mr. Holland?” Nicole asked from the passenger side.

“At least that.” Martin told them about staying at his place. Both agreed and said they'd meet him there later on.

Martin stood for a moment outside his offices after Audie had driven away. Some kids passed in a car. One girl leaned out the window and cursed at him.

On impulse, Martin screamed profanities back, feeling rather childish doing so.

The car stopped and backed up. Two young men got out and walked up to Martin. “I think you're looking for trouble, old man!” one told him.

Martin took one step forward and flattened the young man, then backhanded the second, knocking him spinning.

“You sorry old fool!” the girl squalled at him.

One young man tried to get to his feet and Martin kicked him squarely in the butt, just as hard as he could kick. The guy went rolling over into the street, hollering in pain.

“We'll get you!” the kid with the bloody mouth yelled. “We'll get you.”

Martin walked to his pickup and pulled away. He drove to his pastor's house and parked, getting out and walking up to the front door.

The kids had followed him, picking up a couple more carloads of troublemakers on the way. They drove by, shouting and cursing and hurling threats at him.

Martin ignored them and rang the bell. The door opened. Martin stood for a few seconds, shocked by the appearance of the man. “Reverend Alridge?” he asked, finally finding his voice.

The man stank of whiskey. Dirt-lines were evident on his throat and face. His clothing was rumpled and stained.

The pastor stared at him through rummy eyes. “Well . . .” He swayed unsteadily on his feet. “If it isn't the mayor, Martin Holland, his honor. Come on in. Have a drink with me.”

Martin stepped into the house. It smelled like Martin had always imagined a whore house might smell.

“I don't care for a drink, Reverend Alridge. And I'll stand, thank you. Pastor, what's wrong with you?”

The preacher slopped some booze into a glass, spilling most of it on the carpet, “... wrong with me? I'm tired, my boy. I've come to the realization that if you can't beat ‘em, join 'em.”

“By ‘them,' you mean? . . .”

A girl about sixteen or seventeen walked past the archway separating living room from hall. She was naked. She was the daughter of a church deacon. She looked at Martin and winked.

Martin's face tightened. “Well, Pastor, you've been having a good time, I see.”

“What business is that of yours?” the preacher yelled at Martin. “For thirty years I've been banging my head against the wall, trying to save lost souls. I'm tired of trying to live up to a standard that no one else will even attempt to reach. Oh, they'll give you lip-service—plenty of that. And the lies! Thirty years of lies. I'm tired of it.” He slopped more booze into his glass. Eyeballed Martin. “Why'd you come over here, Martin?”

Martin felt like an idiot saying it. “To warn you that Satan is all around us.”

The preacher laughed at him. “Oh, really! Are you just now figuring that out? Yes, he's all around us. And I can't fight him alone—don't know who to trust—so I quit trying.”

Martin slapped the drink out of the man's hand and then backhanded the preacher across the mouth, staggering the man. He slapped him again, this time knocking him down. He jerked the man to his feet, while the girl jumped around, yelling filth at him. Martin popped her on the side of the face and the girl ran out of the room. He shoved the preacher into the hall and toward the bathroom, then tossed the drunken man of God into the shower stall and turned the water on full force, full cold. Yelling, the preacher tried to crawl out. Martin backhanded him again.

“You keep your drunk butt in there until you're sober, Ned. I'll put on some coffee and make some breakfast.” Martin found the naked girl in the kitchen, her eyes wide with fear. “Get your clothes on and get out of here!” he yelled at her.

Seconds later, he saw the girl racing across the back yard. He heard water pressure change and looked up the hall. Steam was coming out of the open door of the bathroom.

He fixed coffee and started bacon frying, then wondered where Mrs. Alridge was. He went looking for her, searching all the rooms. But she was not in the house. Back in the kitchen he placed the bacon on a paper towel to drain and broke the eggs. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his pastor, a towel wrapped around him, pad up the hallway to a bedroom. A few minutes later, dressed, the man entered the kitchen. He wasn't full sober, but a lot more so than he had been just moments past.

“The girl?” Ned asked.

“I sent her packing.”

“God help me, she's been after me for a month. I didn't understand why a seventeen-year-old girl would want a man in his mid-fifties. Of course, I do now.”

Martin waited.

“It was all planned out in advance by Satan. You probably don't realize the problems this town has been experiencing over the past few weeks, Martin. But the town's preachers do; we've discussed it, our ranks dwindling as the ministers fell by the wayside, one by one.”

“That's why you said you couldn't do it alone?”

“Yes.”

Martin set the breakfast plate in front of the man and poured them both coffee. Ned Alridge looked up, pleading in his eyes. “I feel like such an old fool, Martin! It's the carnival, isn't it?”

“Yes. Don't be too hard on yourself, Ned. You're only human. Where is Alice?”

“I sent her to California. She has a sister and a brother out there. I did have a few lucid moments before I gave in to temptation.”

“You did that . . . when you saw this thing coming?”

“Yes. Sunday afternoon. My sermon Sunday morning frightened me. Those weren't my words coming out of my mouth. I didn't write that sermon. It came straight out of
Hell!
Then, after that altercation at the hotel cafe, I knew that my worst fears were real, and not imagined. Sunday night, I went again to see the town's ministers. I was so frightened, Martin. They laughed at me. They were drinking. I ran back here, and found the girl naked. Then, all of a sudden, I just thought: Why fight it? I'm alone. I gave in to temptation.”

“Why didn't you call me, Ned?”

“I didn't know who to call. Who to trust. I just felt that I was alone.”

“You're not alone. There are a few of us who are still fighting. More eggs?”

“Yes, please. If you don't mind. This is the first time I've eaten in ...” He looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. “I don't remember when I last ate. I don't even remember where I got the whiskey.”

“I'm sure that was the easy part, once Satan's helpers had you beaten down.” While Martin fixed more breakfast, he brought the preacher up to date, leaving nothing out.

“Incredible!” Ned said with a shake of his head. “I've only been here five years, Martin. I've never even heard about the fire. Of course, it all ties in. What about this Nabo person?”

“He's too slick, too glib. I think he's playing me along—me and the few others.”

“Why?”

“Because, for whatever reason, or reasons, he can't pull us into his trap.”

“And you don't know why that is?”

“I don't have a clue, Ned.”

“But you have a plan?”

“No plan, Ned. None at all. All we're doing is taking it minute by minute. But we are gathering at my house for the duration. Will you join us?”

“Thank you, I will.”

Ned Alridge had gone to his church and picked up a dozen Bibles, then joined Martin at the Holland house. The pastor was shocked at the few people who had gathered.

“This is it?” he questioned, after being introduced to Frenchy.

“As near as we can tell, Ned,” Martin confirmed.

The pastor glanced at Frenchy. “And you don't intend to call in for help?”

“What kind of help would I call for, Pastor? And would you like to be responsible for sending a half dozen cops to their deaths?”

“No, of course not. I see what you mean. And I quite agree with you.” He sighed, looking around him. “I did some thinking on the short drive over here. First lucid thoughts I've experienced in several days. I don't have a battle plan for the simple reason that I don't know how the war is going to be fought. I'd like to hear some comments on that.”

“How about the other ministers in town?” Janet asked.

“As of a few days ago, they had gone over to the other side. But we can try again. Perhaps if Martin is as, ah, forceful with them as he was with me, a few might come around.”

Martin cut his eyes to Audie and Nicole. They got the message. “We'll check on them.” They left the house.

The group fell silent, sitting and looking at one another. Gary Jr. was the only one missing. He was in the basement rec room, watching TV.

Don Talbolt sat off to one side, looking uncomfortable in his patched jeans and boots. “You know what's wrong?” he broke the silence. “There isn't a dog barking. Not a bird singing. There isn't a sound to be heard in this town.”

The group listened. The cowboy was right. Not even a breath of breeze stirred the outside.

Don walked to an open window and looked out. When he spoke, his words brought out a cold fear-sweat on the others. “It's like everybody else in town is dead, but nobody's told them yet.”

* * *

“They were . . . blunt with us,” Nicole informed the group. “I can't recall ever seeing ministers behave in quite that manner.”

“What did the Reverend Masters have to say?” Ned asked.

“He asked Nicole if she'd like to—! I get the picture,” Audie said.

“How quaint,” Ned muttered. “Did you see Father Bastian?”

“He's out of town for a few days. Some conference in Omaha.”

“I'm at a loss as to how to fight this thing,” the minister admitted. “I've never faced anything like this before.”

“Neither have any of us,” Gary told him. “I don't know what to do.”

“We do what any combat vet will tell you is the hardest thing of them all,” Martin said. “We wait.”

* * *

They began circling the house at full dark, adults and kids, male and female. They hooted and called and shouted obscenities at those inside the huge home.

“How many you think?” Gary asked.

“Couple of hundred,” Martin replied. “Most of the town may be under this ... spell, but that bunch out there is the town's less desirable element. I've already picked out a dozen that I've had run-ins with over the years.”

“I'd like to kill them all!” Mark said, clutching a shotgun and speaking through tight lips.

“Just calm yourself and put that shotgun back in the gun cabinet, boy,” his father told him. Mark hesitated. “Do it, boy!”

Mark stalked back into the den. Gary looked at Martin. “Have you thought that it might come to that? Have you given that any thought at all?”

“Yes. But I hope it won't come to that. Listen, Gary, there has to be something to break this ... evil . . . whatever it is. There has to be something. I don't want to have to hurt anybody.”

All that changed with Linda's wild screaming from the back porch.

Martin tore through the house, grabbing up a poker from the fireplace set as he ran past it. His daughter was naked from the waist up, her blouse and bra ripped from her. Two men that Martin knew only by face and reputation were trying to pull the girl off the porch.

With a wild cry of parental rage, Martin swung the poker. The heavy metal impacted with skull and the man dropped like an anvil, his head split open. Gary jerked Linda back from the edge of the porch and hurled her into the arms of Frenchy and Janet just as Martin drove the end of the poker into the throat of the second man.

He tried to scream; only a horrible bubbling sound coming from his mouth. He kicked his feet and pounded the grass with his fists as life began to leave him.

The mob was still out there, but they were silent, disbelieving. Martin tossed the bloody poker onto the kitchen table and stalked into the den, muttering dark curses as he walked. He opened the gun cabinet and jerked out a Mini-14, inserting a full twenty-round clip into the belly of the weapon.

“I've had it!” he snarled.

“Martin—no!” Ned yelled.

Martin ignored the man as he walked through the house, toward the back porch. He was just jacking in a round when his son tackled him, bringing the bigger man down on the kitchen floor, sending table and chairs spinning around the room.

“Dad! No, Dad!”

Gary jerked up the .223 and handed it to a very startled Janet, who looked at the weapon as if her husband had just handed her a squirming snake.

“I'll kill you Godless bastards!” Martin roared, fighting his friends as Audie grabbed one arm and Don grabbed the other. “Turn me loose!”

Together, they managed to pin the big man to the floor. Gary scooped up a pan full of dishwater from the sink and doused his friend.

Martin sputtered and blubbered and shook his head. “Enough is enough!”

“Sure is,” Audie said. “You got me, too.”

“All right,” Martin said. “It's under control. Let me up.”

“Now, settle down,” Gary warned him. “We don't need anymore dead men in the back yard.”

“The mob?”

“They're all gone, Mr. Holland!” Amy called from the front room. “I saw them carry off those two men. They looked dead.”

Martin sat up on the wet floor and rubbed his face. “How's Linda?”

“Scared. Shook up. But otherwise all right,” Eddie told him. “Joyce took her upstairs.” He didn't tell Martin—thought he might have imagined it—but it looked to him like his wife and Linda were smiling at each other.

“All my fine and noble words didn't last long, did they?” Martin got to his feet, almost slipping on the wet floor.

“Your daughter wasn't being attacked when you said them. Something like that has a habit of changing things very quickly.”

Martin took the .233 from Janet and pulled the clip from it. He looked out the kitchen window. “They're all gone. But I wonder for how long?”

* * *

The mob did not return that night. Guards were posted on both floors of the house, with each person standing a very boring and uneventful two-hour lookout.

Martin slept well, if lightly, and was shaken awake by Gary. “You gotta see this, buddy. It's weird.”

He sat up and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 7:00.

“What's that noise?” Martin asked, pulling on his pants.

“It's street traffic. Everything appears to be normal. The paper was delivered about forty-five minutes ago. People are out, jogging, riding bikes, just like normal. And Martin? ...”

Martin stood up and slipped his shirt inside his pants. “What?”

“Alicia is downstairs.”

* * *

“Alicia,” Martin greeted her.

She was perfectly groomed and immaculately dressed, just like the Alicia of old. She smiled at him and held out her hand. Martin took it briefly. “Darling. I'm so sorry for my behavior yesterday. Please forgive me. You will, won't you?”

“Ah . . .” He let her hand drop. “Of course, Alicia. What brings you over this early?”

“Why darling . . .” She smiled at him with her mouth. Her eyes were dead-looking. Scary, the word came to Martin. “Today is the opening day of the fair. You have to make a speech. I want us to go together. Appearances, you know? We've had our differences, but we can put them aside for this day, can't we?”

“Why . . . ah, sure, Alicia. That would be nice.” He cut his eyes to Gary. His friend shrugged his shoulders.

Alicia looked around her. “You naughty boy, you! You've been having a party without me.” Her eyes settled on Frenchy. “And who is this?”

“Sgt. Frenchy McClain of the Nebraska State Police.”

“Oh, really? You must tell me about it sometime. Something to do with the children, I'm sure.”

“The children are fine, Alicia. It's a long story.”

She waved that off. “And a boring one, I'm sure.” She looked at a diamond wristwatch. “Why don't you pick me up about elevenish, Martin. At my place. We'll ride over to the fairgrounds together.”

“All right, Alicia. I'll see you then.”

She smiled sweetly and looked at Gary. Martin could have sworn she winked at him, and he returned the wink. No. Impossible.

Martin glanced at Audie who had just entered the room. “Audie?”

“I just drove downtown, Martin. Everything is normal. The gas stations are open, grocery stores are open. Everything is running as usual. I saw a couple of the guys who were in the mob around here last night. They acted like nothing had happened. I asked if there was any excitement last night and they said no. I didn't push it any further.”

“Nothing about the men who were killed?”

“Not a peep. It's like nothing has happened.”

“You think it's over?” Joyce asked.

Martin shook his head. “No. I think it's just the quiet before the storm. I think we're all being suckered.”

“Do we go to the fair, Dad?” Mark asked.

“I . . . don't know. I don't know what to do. ” He met the eyes of all in the room. “Let's vote on it.”

Only Jeanne and Janet and Amy voted not to go to the fairgrounds.

“You want to stay here and take care of the kids?” Gary asked his wife, more than a touch of irritation in the question. Again, Martin felt that odd.

She shook her head. “No way am I staying alone. I think Gary will be safer in a crowd than here.”

* * *

Martin found the equipment he'd been issued by the Holland County Sheriff's Department years back, after he'd graduated from the eight-week academy course. He found his .38 Colt Commander, loaded a clip full, jacked a round into the chamber, and replaced the round, filling the clip full. Easing the hammer down, he laid the autoloader aside. He slipped into the shoulder holster rig, after finally figuring out how to untangle and work the straps and buckles and elasticized rig. His sport coat concealed the .38. He put two full clips into his jacket pockets and then inspected himself in the mirror. As long as he kept the jacket unbuttoned, the gun bulge was not that noticeable.

Wild thoughts filled his head: Maybe he should cut some sharpened stakes and take them instead. To pierce the heart of the Undead.

“Oh, come on, Martin!” he muttered. But he wasn't all that certain the idea was a bad one.

He tried to laugh at the idea of carrying around sharpened stakes in his golf bag. The laugh didn't quite make it.

He checked his watch. He still had about a half an hour before picking up Alicia. And he wasn't looking forward to that, either.

He looked in on the kids. First Mark, who was ready to go, then the girls, who were still primping. For whom, Martin had no idea.

“It makes us feel better,” his daughter told him.

“Right. Now listen, gang,” he cautioned them. “One solid group unless otherwise suggested. No one is going to forcibly split us up, understood?”

It was understood.

Downstairs, he handed Gary a Colt Diamondback, two and a half inch barrel, and a handful of rounds.

“I haven't fired a pistol in twenty years, Martin,” the doctor told him.

“It'll come back to you.” He looked at Eddie. The lawyer patted his hip pocket.

“Snub-nose. If I tried real hard, I could maybe hit that wall over there.”

“Not exactly the A-Team,” Martin said with a smile.

“I'm going to pick up Alicia,” Martin told the group. “Wish me luck. Let's all meet at the speaker's platform just before noon.”

He looked at the faces of his friends. New and old. Strained faces; worried eyes. The expression one of uncertainty. He stepped out onto the front porch and paused for a moment. Everything appeared normal. Kids were playing in the soft fall air. Cars moving up and down the street. People waving at one another and stopping to chat. But there wasn't a dog in sight and none could be heard. Not one bird flew or sang.

“They've got more sense than we have,” Martin muttered, as he stepped off the porch and walked to his pickup, wondering if Alicia was going to pitch a fit about riding in a truck?

She didn't have a word to say about it. She began chattering like a magpie when she opened the door and didn't shut up during the entire ride.

“I'm so excited, Martin. We're going to have a Shakespearean pavilion. And we'll be putting on a production every afternoon and evening. And guess what? I'm starring!”

“That's nice, Alicia.”

“Thank you. I knew you'd be thrilled. Now you must come see me perform, Martin.”

“Oh, I will.”

Martin would steal glances at her from time to time. Her eyes were dead. Totally lifeless. And her conversation seemed to be mechanical; there was no voice inflection. He decided to take a chance.