William Johnstone - Devil's Kiss

Sam looked around him as the sun began its sinking for this day. It was over. His group looked at one another, each one aware of the evil that would soon be searching for them—in the night.

"Let's camp in the falls," Chester suggested. "It's the one place I can think of that's easy to defend. And it's not far away."

"Let's roll it," Sam said.

Sam made love to Jane Ann as if this were their last time together. They were far from the others, behind the tiny falls, letting the spray of mist engulf them as they lay naked, locked together.

After a time, they were still in each other's arms, listening to the pounding of their hearts gradually slow. They bathed and soaped each other in the cool water of the falls, gentle in their touchings.

"Sam?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You made me pregnant this time."

"You can't know for sure." But there was pride in his heart at the thought.

She smiled. "Yes, I can."

Just as full dark enveloped the land, they walked back to the half circle of trucks, slowly, holding hands as they walked.

"The lovers return," Doris said with a smile. She was frying meat over a campfire, and both Sam and Jane Ann realized how hungry they were.

Squatting down beside the small fire, Sam asked, "How are you holding up?"

"I'll make it," she said. "But Anita—" she shook her head. "I don't know. You can only live with so much terror, Sam. After that—" She shrugged.

Jane Ann fixed a sandwich. "I'll go sit with her." She walked off toward the woman sitting alone by a pickup.

"Point is, Sam," Doris said, spearing a piece of meat with a fork, putting it on a piece of bread, handing it to Sam, "How are you holding up?'"

"Better than most, I imagine," Sam replied. "Now that I have the rhythm of what we're doing."

"Explain that, please."

Others had gathered around the cook fire, to eat and to listen to the minister.

"It doesn't take one long to slip back into a combat role. Survival is the most basic of all human emotions. Throwback to the caves, I suppose."

"Do you enjoy combat, Sam?" Tony asked.

Sam chewed in silence for a moment. He rose to his feet, picking up his Thompson. "I understand it," he said, then walked into the darkening night.

The Godless were becoming much more cautious in their approach. Only a dry whisper of movement warned Sam they were coming. That, and his own senses, working overtime. Sam smiled his grim smile, anticipating combat; another showdown.

The pickups had been pulled into a half circle, toward the prairie. The falls and the high ground behind them. The Godless had to come at them from the front. Each pickup had, in addition to regular headlights, spotlights. The women carried long, six-cell flashlights. They all crouched by the trucks, waiting.

"They're out there, aren't they?" Jane Ann whispered.

"Yes," Sam caressed her arm. "Get ready for a rush."

The dry movement rustled closer, the night breeze bringing the sounds and scent of Them to the half circle. Nerves became tighter, breathing shallowed. As is always the case—and a combat-experienced person can pick it up—there was a slight pause before the charge.

"LIGHTS!" Sam yelled, and the prairie was suddenly bright with harsh light.

The Godless were caught by surprise. Less than fifty yards from the tight circle of trucks, the worshippers of Satan were momentarily blinded.

"FIRE!" Sam shouted.

The night was torn with gunfire: the stutter of Chester's Greasegun and the powerful roaring of Sam's Thompson. The sharp crack of high-powered rifles, and the booming of shotguns.

The attackers were armed, but they had been too anxious, caught by surprise. They were cut to bloody shards by bullets and buckshot. Medallions sparkled in the artificial light. Evil eyes flashed hate at the Godly. Blood leaped from gaping chest wounds and torn stomachs, smearing the night with thick stickiness.

Sam had told his people: "Don't try to be a hero. Fire at the thickest part of the body, between the neck and the waist."

Hoarse bellowing filled the night; painful cries penetrated the gunfire, adding a period to a life sentence.

"Finish them!" Sam yelled. "Shut them up!" He put aside his Thompson for an M-l. Chester did the same.

The others stood quietly, watching the minister and the church elder finish the grisly night's work.

Then the prairie was silent.

"Lights out," Sam ordered. "Check weapons. Stand easy but ready. They'll be back as soon as they regroup."

"Colonel Travis speaks," Doris quipped, breaking the tension.

Sam grinned at her courage and pluckiness. "Miles?" Sam said. "You take the left perimeter. I'll take the right. The rest of you people, take a break, try to relax."

"Sam?" Miles said, exasperation in his voice, "What in the hell is a perimeter? I was in supply, not in the Commandos."

The preacher chuckled. "I'll go into combat with you anytime, Miles. A perimeter is your designated watch area. Anything to the left of that tree is yours; to the right is mine."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Audie Murphy, he ain't," Doris said.

"Silence, woman!" her husband warned.

"Yes, dear," she laughed. "My, isn't he becoming assertive?"

The good-natured bantering ceased as Anita began shaking uncontrollably, sobbing into her hands.

"Shock," Tony said. "I've been waiting for her to break down. It was just a matter of time. Wade, put her in the back of your pickup. Wrap her up in blankets, elevate her feet, and stay with her."

"I can't take anymore of this!" Anita screamed out. "Dear God—let's run. Just get away from here!"

Anita fought the hands that tried to help her, striking out at anyone until her husband and Tony managed to pin her to the ground, wrap her in blankets, and place her in the bed of the pickup. Wade stayed with her, holding her.

Sam looked at his wife, her profile beautiful in the moonlight. "How are you doing?"

"I'll make it," she touched his face. "But I know how Anita feels. I just haven't allowed myself the luxury of breaking down."

He bent down, kissing her mouth. "Get some rest."

She looked up at him, all the love in the world shining through her eyes. "Will they be back?"'

"Yes. This time it will be the Undead. Their tactics don't change."

She shuddered in the warm prairie breeze.

Miles' shotgun blasted the night. Four quick booms.

"Lights!" Sam yelled, grabbing a stake, running toward the firing.

Walter Addison staggered to his feet, thrown on his back by the slugs from the shotgun. Smoking holes covered his chest. He grinned grotesquely, making grunting noises past a tongue that seemed too large for his mouth. His face was pale, eyes shining yellow with evil.

Sam held out his silver cross. Addison hissed at him, his foul breath corrupting the air. Undead stepped toward Sam, unafraid of the cross..

Chester was locked in a deadly struggle with another of the Undead. Wade ran to help him, shouting for Jane Ann to watch over Anita. Miles ran to Sam's side and tossed a canteen of Holy Water on Addison. The creature howled in pain. Miles looked at the canteen of blessed water.

"Stuff works," he said. Addison turned to one side in his pain and Sam lunged at him, driving a stake into his chest.

A wretched screeching cut the night, an un-Godly sound from the mouth of a man who had forsaken his God, his Maker. Sam worked the stake deeper into his chest, forcing the man to the ground, pinning him there until he was dead.

Addison trembled as the evil in him died.

Forms scurried away, ratlike in the darkness, hissing as they ran.

Miles capped the canteen, then looked at the container.

"Powerful stuff," he said dryly. "I wonder what would happen if you drank it?"