Deadman's Crossing (4 page)

“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,” Jebidiah 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,” Jebidiah 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 mid-day, 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 Jebidiah 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 Jebidiah. “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,” Jebidiah 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,” Jebidiah said. “You’re born, you suffer, then
you’re punished.”

The deputy turned in his saddle to look at Jebidiah. “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,” Jebidiah said. “You had to wait.”

“You mean to see something, don’t you, preacher?” Bill said.

“If there is something to see,” Jebidiah said.

“You believe Old Timer’s story?” the deputy said. “I mean,
really?”

“Perhaps.”

Jebidiah clucked to his horse and took the lead.

When they turned onto Deadman’s Road, Jebidiah 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,” Jebidiah 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 as 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 traveled 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,” Jebidiah 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,” Jebidiah said. “Could have been.”

“What do you think it was?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“Gimet,” Jebidiah 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.”

“You an expert on bees?” the deputy asked.

“He’s right,” Jebidiah said. “And look, they’re gone now.”

“Flew off,” the deputy said.

“No...no they didn’t,” Bill said. “I was watching, and they didn’t
fly nowhere. They’re just gone. One moment they were there, then
they was gone, and that’s all there is to it. They’re like ghosts.”

“You done gone crazy,” the deputy said.

“They are not insects of this earth,” Jebidiah said. “They are
familiars.”

“What?” Bill said.

“They assist evil, or evil beings,” Jebidiah said. “In this case,
Gimet. They’re like a witch’s black cat familiar. Familiars take on
animal shapes, insects, that sort of thing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the deputy said. “That don’t make no kind
of sense at all.”

“Whatever you say,” Jebidiah said, “but I would keep my eyes
alert, and my senses raw. Wouldn’t hurt to keep your revolvers
loose in their holsters. You could well need them. Though, come
to think of it, your revolvers won’t be much use.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Bill said.

Jebidiah didn’t answer. He continued to urge his horse on,
something that was becoming a bit more difficult as they went. All
of the horses snorted and turned their heads left and right, tugged
at their bits; their ears went back and their eyes went wide.

“Holy hell,” Bill said, “what’s that?”

Jebidiah and the deputy turned to look at him. Bill was turned
in the saddle, looking back. They looked too, just in time to see
something that looked pale blue in the moonlight dive into the
brush on the other side of the road. Black dots followed, swarmed
in the moonlight, then darted into the bushes behind the pale,
blue thing like a load of buckshot.

“What was that?” the deputy said. His voice sounded as if it
had been pistol whipped.

“Already told you,” Jebidiah said.

“That couldn’t have been nothing human,” the deputy said.

“Don’t you get it,” Bill said, “that’s what the preacher is trying
to tell you. It’s Gimet, and he ain’t nowhere alive. His skin was
blue. And he’s all messed up. I seen more than you did. I got a
good look. And them bees. We ought to break out and ride hard.”

“Do as you choose,” the Reverend said. “I don’t intend to.”

“And why not?” Bill said.

“That isn’t my job.”

“Well, I ain’t got no job. Deputy, ain’t you supposed to make
sure I get to Nacogdoches to get hung? Ain’t that your job?”

“It is.”

“Then we ought to ride on, not bother with this fool. He wants
to fight some grave crawler, then let him. Ain’t nothing we ought
to get into.”

“We made a pact to ride together,” the deputy said. “So we will.”

“I didn’t make no pact,” Bill said.

“Your word, your needs, they’re nothing to me,” the deputy
said.

At that moment, something began to move through the woods
on their left. Something moving quick and heavy, not bothering
with stealth. Jebidiah looked in the direction of the sounds,
saw someone, or something, moving through the underbrush,
snapping limbs aside like they were rotten sticks. He could hear
the buzz of the bees, loud and angry. Without really meaning to, he
urged the horse to a trot. The deputy and Bill joined in with their
own mounts, keeping pace with the Reverend’s horse.

They came to a place off the side of the road where the brush
thinned, and out in the distance they could see what looked like
bursting white waves, frozen against the dark. But they soon
realized it was tombstones. And there were crosses. A graveyard.
The graveyard Old Timer had told them about. The sky had
cleared now, the wind had ceased to blow hard. They had a fine
view of the cemetery, and as they watched, the thing that had been
in the brush moved out of it and went up the little rise where the
graves were, climbed up on one of the stones and sat. A black cloud
formed around its head, and the sound of buzzing could be heard
all the way out to the road. The thing sat there like a king on a
throne. Even from that distance it was easy to see it was nude,
and male, and his skin was gray—blue in the moonlight—and the
head looked misshapen. Moonglow slipped through cracks in the
back of the horror’s head and poked out of fresh cracks at the front
of its skull and speared out of the empty eye sockets. The bees’
nest, visible through the wound in its chest, was nestled between
the ribs. It pulsed with a yellow-honey glow. From time to time,
little black dots moved around the glow and flew up and were
temporarily pinned in the moonlight above the creature’s head.