Rushed (17 page)

Eric unrolled some gauze and laid it over the gouges left by the resort monster’s wicked claws as he considered these words.  He had no less reason to doubt this man than he did Grant Stolyen and Taylor Parlorn.  The fact of the matter was that this was the first anyone had said about the cathedral other than telling him that it was his destination.  He’d simply assumed that he would find an answer to all his troubles there.  But if Father Billy was right, all he’d find waiting there were the cold, open arms of death. 

In his pocket, Eric’s phone jumped to life, buzzing against his hip.  Surprised, he pulled it out.  “Didn’t know I had any reception here.”

“You don’t,” said Father Billy, staring at the phone.  “Or you
shouldn’t
.  We’re pretty deep inside the fissure.”

No number was displayed on the screen.  Neither was there an “UNKNOWN NUMBER” or “TOLL FREE CALL” or any of those other messages that always really meant “WE’RE NOT TELLING YOU WHO WE ARE BECAUSE WE KNOW YOU WON’T ANSWER IF WE DO.”  (Stupid survey takers and telemarketers.)  The screen simply remained as it looked when no one was calling.  Yet the phone continued to vibrate in his hand. 

He pressed the call button and held it to his ear.  “Hello?”

He thought he heard his name spoken to him, but it was too garbled with static to be certain.  “…out…use…old you a…kay…elp…”

“Hello?  Who is this?”

But the line was dead again. 

Eric returned it to his pocket.  “That was weird.”

“Must’ve been some kind of freak interference or something.”

He took a roll of tape from the first aid kit and began securing the bandages.  This was a poor substitute for stitches, but it was the best he was going to get.  It was much better than a torn hand towel, at least.  “I guess so.”

“Maybe that happens sometimes.  I wouldn’t know.  I don’t have a cell phone.”

“I’d give you mine if I could,” Eric grumbled.  “I hate these things.  Wife makes me carry it.”

“Way I hear it, they can come in handy out here.”

“Works like a compass.  I know.  If I lose the signal, it means I’ve wandered into the fissure.”  Not that it did him any good when he had to run for his life from a pack of voracious corn creeps. 

“Well, I see the old pricks didn’t send you in completely clueless.”

“First one did, actually.  The other two were a little better.”

“But they didn’t tell you what was waiting for you.”

“No.  They didn’t tell me anything about the cathedral.”

Father Billy nodded knowingly and leaned back in his chair. 

Eric stared back at him.  “And what about
you
?  How do
you
know about all this stuff?”

Again, Father Billy ran a hand through his hair.  His eyes wandered across the room.  “You learn a few things out here.  That’s all.”

“No.  That’s
not
all.  You’re sitting there, telling me what an
idiot
I am for even being here, reminding me that the only people I’ve had to trust this whole time won’t even tell me the whole story…and
you’re
keeping secrets from me right now.”

Father Billy stared at him for a moment.  It was hard to tell whether he was considering what he’d just heard or simply thinking about backhanding him.  Then his brow furrowed as he seemed to realize something.  “Does it seem quiet to you?”

Eric didn’t notice anything.  It had seemed pretty quiet to him all along. 

“I don’t hear the corn creeps anymore.”  He stood up, concerned, and walked to the door.  Eric watched him slide the wooden panel over and peer out.  Immediately, he jumped back, as if startled, and then pressed his face to the opening again for a better look.  “Who the fuck is that?”

Eric jumped up from his seat, tossed aside the first aid kit and moved to join him at the door.  When Father Billy stepped aside, he peered out and saw that all the corn creeps were gone.  The three dead ones remained on the steps, half-devoured, but the rest had fled.  And it was no mystery what spooked them.  Standing there in the middle of the yard, looking back at him, was the black shape of a man who appeared to be half-concealed in a dense fog. 

Except there was no fog. 

Chapter Eighteen

“The foggy man…” Eric breathed. 

There was nothing out there to obscure his vision, yet the mysterious figure was partially faded from view in the gloom, as if he were shrouded behind a heavy haze.  It was exactly as Annette first described him, and every bit as terrifying as he’d imagined. 

“Friend of yours?”

Eric turned and looked at Father Billy.  “You don’t know about the foggy man?”

“Should I?”

“He got here before me.  He’s supposed to be trying to get to the cathedral first.”

“Then what’s he doing
here
?”

Eric had no idea.  “He’s been leaving these…
things
…along the path.  Monsters.  Two of them have tried to kill me so far.”

“Monsters?”

Eric peered outside again.  The foggy man was no longer there, gone as quickly and mysteriously as he’d appeared.  In the spot where he’d been standing, there was now a large box.  “What the hell?”

Father Billy pushed him aside and looked out.  “Where’d he go?  What’s with the box?  You expecting a package?”

“Nothing I’d care to open.”

Father Billy turned and looked at him, his eyes narrowed.  “You said he was leaving
monsters
for you?”

“Yeah.  One was in a wardrobe in an old farmhouse.  The other came through a kitchen door in an abandoned resort.”

“What did they look like?”

“Hard to explain.  Huge, kind of—”

“Hard to explain?  Or hard to
comprehend
?  Like you just can’t quite make parts of them out no matter how hard you looked?”

“Yeah.  I guess.  I was too busy running for my life to look very hard.  All I know is I’m supposed to break their focus.”

“Break their focus…?  Aw
fuck
.”  He pressed his face to the peephole again and stared out at the box.  “He’s leaving you fucking
golems
?  I can’t believe this shit!” 

“Sorry.”

“It’s a little fucking late for sorry!  He’s already dropped another one off.  At
my church
!  Son of a bitch even
gift-wrapped
it for you!”

“How considerate.”

Father Billy cursed bitterly and slammed the peephole closed again.  “I need to think.”

“So what the hell’s a golem?  Isn’t that some kind of fairy tale creature or something?”

“Jewish folklore, actually.”

“You’re Jewish?”

“No.” 

“Right.  Didn’t think so.”

Father Billy sat down again and rubbed tiredly at his eyes.  After a moment, he said, “So how the hell did you get away from the other two?”

“Guy named Grant drove a tractor through the front porch of the farmhouse to stop the first one.”

“Not bad.  And the second?”

“Fell off a four-story building.”

“Impressive.”

“Lucky, actually.”

“Impressive luck, then.”

“I’d rather not rely on luck to get through another one.”

“Me neither.”

Eric stood beside the door, staring at Father Billy.  “So why is it you know about golems, but you don’t know who the foggy man is?”

“I never claimed to know everything.”

“No.  You only
acted
like you did.”

Father Billy glared up at him.  “I’ve had some experience with the weird, okay.  I used to be mixed up in some pretty heavy shit.”

“Heavy like waking up from crazy dreams with irresistible compulsions to drive out into the country and then go strolling through a deadly crack in the universe?  That kind of heavy shit?”

“Not
exactly
, no.  More like I used to work for some people who made weird shit like this ‘crack in the universe’
their business.”

Eric lifted an eyebrow.  “Now
that
sounds interesting.”

“It was.  I’ve seen some weird-ass things, let me tell you.”

“So you guys were…what?  Like Men in Black or something?”

“What?  No.  Nothing so glamorous.  It was…  Well, to be honest, I couldn’t tell you
what
it was.  At first, I thought it had something to do with the mafia or something.  I was hired by a guy named Saulkin.  Never even knew his first name.  This guy’s job was to find—as he put it—‘items of interest.’  I never knew what these items were.  I never even
saw
the items.  I just ran errands for the guy.  I gathered information.  Me and two other guys.  That was our job.  We weren’t supposed to ask questions.”

Eric sat down across from him, interested. 

“Wasn’t always ethical work.  I don’t know who Saulkin worked for.  Never met them, but I heard they were some scary-ass dudes.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was in real deep with something way more fucked-up than the mafia.”

“And you came across these golems working for Saulkin?”

“No.  I never actually saw one.  But I heard about them.  There was supposedly this guy who knew how to make them.  Used to hear about a
lot
of things like that.”

“So, what kinds of things
did
you see?”

“Mostly I just heard things.  But I did have a run in with some kind of witch.”

Eric raised an eyebrow.  “A witch?  Really?”

“She was
some
kind of crazy-powerful bitch.  Turned two hard-trained men into raving lunatics and made a third vanish off the face of the earth, all between breakfast and lunch.”

“Wow.’

“Yeah.”

“How’d you get away?”

“Crushed her against a concrete wall with a Jeep.” 

“Ouch.”

“Not ouch enough.  They told me she was still alive when they took her away.”

“Still alive?  What happened to her?”

“No idea.  When they told me I hadn’t killed her, I went straight out and got passed-out drunk.  No one ever told me what they did with her and I never asked.  I only hope they put her where she’ll never get out.  I still have nightmares about that bitch.”

Eric sat there for a moment, taking these things in.  It was a lot to swallow, but given all that he’d already seen, why not add a secret, supernatural organization and a real-live witch to the mix?  He had no reason to doubt that these stories were true.  “So how is it you know so much about
me
?”

“I don’t know anything about
you
, per se.  I told you my job was to gather information.  Well, my last assignment was to gather information from the cathedral.  We only knew as much about the place as was absolutely necessary, of course.  As always, it was all on a need-to-know basis.  So all we knew was that there was something at that location that was of interest to Saulkin’s employers.  There were three of us there that night.  I was keeping an eye out, so I didn’t go in.  The other two did.  Neither came back.  That was when I decided that maybe I wouldn’t come back either.  I’d known for months that the only way to leave was to die or vanish, so I vanished.  Eventually, I ended up here.  And as far as I know, they still think I disappeared with my partners that night.”

“So that’s how you know there’s nothing but death waiting for anyone who goes inside the cathedral.”

“That’s right.  That…and the gas station attendant told me.”

“The gas station attendant?” 

“Yeah.  I expect you’ll meet him a little farther up the road.  Little guy.  Kind of funny.  Acted like he knew me.  Knew about where I’d been.  Told me I’d be smart to never go back there, which of course he never had to worry about.  He never said it outright, but he managed to
suggest
that I’d be safe if I kept to the fissure, that no one
bad
would ever find me again.”

“And it was around that time that you came across the church?”

“It was, actually.”

“Nice.”

Father Billy nodded.  “I know.  It may not seem like much of a life, but at least I’m alive.  Thanks to him.”

“You really think they’d have killed you?  The people you worked for?”

“Definitely.  Still will, if they ever find out I’m still alive.”

“Which is why you shoved your gun in my face instead of shaking my hand when I showed up.” 

Father Billy gave him a grin that was almost charming.  “Couldn’t let you die out there.  God wouldn’t like that.  But I couldn’t chance you being one of
them
either.”

“Understandable.  But how did you know I wasn’t one of them?”

“I could see it in your eyes.  It takes a certain kind of person.  You don’t accidentally get mixed up in their business.”

Eric had no idea what that meant, but he thought it was something akin to a compliment. 

“Anyway,” Father Billy went on.  “The gas station attendant told me about the cathedral.  He said that it would always reject those who came looking for its secrets.”

“Including me.”

“Including you.  It’s happened before.  He told me that the cathedral sometimes calls to people in their dreams.  They’re drawn to it, compelled to go there or else be driven crazy.”

“That definitely sounds like me.”

“Everyone dies there.  That’s all there is to it.”

“So my choice is madness or death?”

Father Billy sighed.  “I can’t, in good faith, let you go blindly into that cathedral.  But I also can’t stop you and leave you to the insanity of the dream.  What I
can
do is make sure you know what your options really are.”

“I understand.”

“The choice is yours to make.”

Eric nodded. 

“But right now, we have to deal with the golem.”

“Right.  That thing.  What is it, anyway?”

“In Jewish folklore, it’s an animated creature made of inanimate matter.  Like if you made a man out of clay and brought him to life, for example.  These aren’t the same things.  The guy who told me the story gave it the name.  I doubt there are any
real
golems by that exact definition.  I don’t think these things have anything to do with Judaism, for starters.  And I don’t know
what
they’re made of.  But the basic principle seems to be the same.  It’s not a living being, but a creation of some kind, brought to life for the sole purpose of ambushing passers by.”

“Which explains why it can be stopped by breaking its focus,” Eric realized.  “Limited intelligence.  Limited attention span.”

“Exactly.  And that’s the problem we’ve got right now, isn’t it?  Finding a way to break its focus before it kills one of us.”

“So far, driving a tractor into one and dropping another off a four-story roof has done the trick.  But I’m guessing you don’t have a tractor and I know this church isn’t tall enough.”

Father Billy contemplated this for a moment and then rose decisively to his feet.  “I think I might have something that’ll be just about as good.  Wait here.”  He turned and stalked across the room, leaving Eric to sit and watch after him. 

At the far end of the church, he opened a door and disappeared into what might have originally been the church office.

Eric stood up and returned to the homemade peephole in the front door.  The box was still there.  Wooden, not much larger than a microwave oven, it was easily the most ominous object he’d ever seen in his life.  Was there really a monster hiding inside?  It was hard to imagine anything so terrifying emerging from such a small package.  But then again, the warped dimensions of the wardrobe monster had not been remotely related to the physical size of its home.  It had poured out of that wardrobe like a spring-loaded snake from a novelty peanut brittle can, its terrifying bulk filling the cramped bedroom before clawing its way through the hallway and chasing him to the front door. 

He recalled the second golem, the resort monster, and its spongy green and black flesh that vaguely resembled tree bark.  Maybe they weren’t so different from the golems of Jewish folklore after all.  Perhaps the myth had a very real origin. 

One never knew. 

Looking out at the yard, he realized that he’d forgotten to snap a picture of the corn creeps.  That would’ve been a good one to show Karen.  He had no idea how he was going to describe that particular oddity. 

He glanced back in time to see Father Billy step out of the church office and lean two shotguns against the wall beside the door.  He went back inside and returned a moment later with a holstered pistol on his hip, carrying an assault rifle and a small duffel bag. 

Apparently, the good father had turned the church office into an armory. 

“I thought you said it was safe here at night.”

“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.  Never know when some dumbass is going to show up with a golem or something.”