Rockabilly Limbo Read online

  “You people don’t have a clue as to what’s going on, do you?” Jonathan asked.

  “Why don’t you tell us?” Bev prompted, after looking all around the den, as if expecting more classic music to leap out at her.

  “We won,” the prisoner said simply. “And it was real easy. We—”

  “No,” Cole interrupted. “Not that. I think I know how you think you won. But more importantly, why are you a part of it?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You worship the devil,” Cole said. “That’s what I mean.”

  “Oh, I don’t worship the devil,” Jonathan said. “Don’t be ridiculous. The devil doesn’t have a church. We don’t have any certain day that we gather. We never gather to worship anything. It’s just that his way is the easiest to follow, that’s all. Most of us never realized what path we were on, until it was too late. It came as quite a shock for most of us, believe me. But then we got to thinking about it, and decided, ’Why not?’ The sky is the limit. Anything goes. And I mean anything. All the pussy you want. If the woman doesn’t want to give it up, why, just take it. It’s all right. There is no punishment in our society. How can you sin if all sin has been eliminated? And let me tell you this: there are no hellfires. No one is going to burn forever. That’s bullshit from your God . . .”

  Hank winced at those words.

  “... Your God told you all that crap to keep you people in line. There is no Hell—this is Hell. Right here. Forever and ever. This is our so-called punishment. God rules the Heavens. But Satan rules the earth. The earth is his. Think about it.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Cole asked. “Why are you being so open about it?”

  “Why not?” the prisoner asked. “I can’t die. In the eyes of your God, I’m already dead. But in the eyes of my God, I’m immortal. Oh, you can kill me. But I’ll rise again. If you think I’m kidding, go outside and take a look at where you tossed the bodies of my friends. Go on, do it.”

  “Watch him, Bev,” Cole said.

  “You can believe that,” the woman said.

  Cole and Hank walked outside.

  “What’s up?” Russ called.

  “They are,” Hank said, pointing to where Russ had dragged and stacked the bodies.

  But there were no bodies.

  They were gone.

  * * *

  For the first time since their arrival, Cole realized that Ruth was badly shaken . . . but only because of the disappearance of the dead men. Cole juggled the guard shifts and sat Ruth down in the den. Jonathan Brown was locked in a windowless storeroom.

  “Ruth, we saw the walking dead up in Arkansas last year. But they can be stopped. It takes a head shot. Ol’ Nick has lied to his followers. They can be killed. And according to the ex-sheriff up there—who retired shortly after the horror—this time they stay dead. But we found out the hard way that their bodies must be burned. I—”

  The music began. Cole sighed patiently and waited for it to subside.

  An orchestra was playing: “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire.”

  After a moment, the music faded away and silence filled the room.

  “I don’t know how that,” Ruth pointed toward the speakers, “is possible. It’s beginning to get on my nerves. And even after listening to that dreadful man, I still do not know why this is happening. It’s . . . crary!”

  “We went too far, Ruth. The nation went to extremes. Hank and I have talked about this many times. Groups can’t change and twist the words of God to suit their own interest. Right is right and wrong is wrong and sin is sin. It’s all very clearly spelled out in the Bible. Hank is not the only one to have left the ministry during the past few months. He has a dozen friends who have walked away from the pulpit, and every one of them left for the same reason: because of the permissiveness being allowed and excused by the various denominations.”

  “Then . . . we brought this on ourselves?”

  “I believe so. So does Hank.”

  “God is punishing the innocent along with the guilty?”

  “God isn’t punishing anyone. He rules the Heavens, Ruth. Satan rules the earth. But I disagree with Hank on a couple of points. One: I don’t believe God opened the door, so to speak, and allowed Satan to have free rein here on earth. I think Satan has always had free rein here. Two: God is giving those who believe in Him ample opportunities to protect themselves against the forces on the other side. I believe that while Jesus is love, God is vengeance. Jesus is gentle, God is all-powerful and wrathful. God is using us as His weapon against Satan.”

  Ruth smiled, and the smile wiped years from her. She was really a very pretty lady. “I didn’t know you were religious, Cole.”

  “Oh, I’m not, Ruth. Not really. I’m just a strong-minded, very opinionated man who tries in his own small way to do the right thing. But I sure as hell don’t believe in the message on these little bumper stickers that read: ’Christians aren’t perfect, they’re just forgiven.’ I think people who believe that just because they’ve been baptized they can get away with anything are now facing the truth, and they’re terrified of it. Those are the people who are being attacked by the other side. For the most part, that is,” Cole amended that. “But I don’t have all the answers, Ruth. And I may be completely off base in my thinking. I’m not going to try to second-guess God.”

  She smiled. “That’s probably wise. What are we going to do with John Brown?”

  Cole shook his head. “I don’t know. Watch him closely, for sure.”

  “He seems, for the most part, well, normal.”

  “Oh, I think he is. He’s just accepted what he is and is content with it. I don’t believe the devil has taken control of his mind any more than I believe that God is controlling our movements. Each side is doing what they do of their own free will.”

  “You’re just too damn smart for your own good, cowboy cop,” the heavy whisper reached the man and the woman. “I’ll enjoy seeing you destroyed.”

  “Why don’t you personally destroy me?” Cole asked, also in a whisper.

  There was no reply.

  “You can’t, can you?” Cole asked. “Hank was right.”

  Ruth was watching Cole’s face. She cut her eyes as Hank entered the den to stand listening to the strange exchange.

  “I’m going to fight you,” Cole said. “I’m going to fight you right down to my last breath.”

  “You will forgive me if I don’t wish you good luck,” the voice replied.

  A country voice, accompanied by guitar, bass, and drums, sprang out of the speakers, singing “Gotta Travel On.”

  “Good riddance,” Hank said.

  “I have an idea,” Cole said, standing up and walking to the study where Jenny was busy at work behind the computer. “Jenny?” She turned around. “Did you experience any interference just a moment ago? Did the screen fill with sparkles or dots or anything at all?”

  She shook her head. “No, sir. Nothing.”

  “Damn!” Cole said. “Well, it was a thought.” He returned to the den. “I thought we might be able to detect when that . . . thing is close. I thought it might produce some sort of static or interference. Nothing happened. But the voice has to be something.”

  “Do you suppose it’s really gone?” Ruth asked.

  “I doubt it,” Hank said. “It’s all-seeing. With much of the same powers of God.”

  “But why us?” Ruth asked.

  “I would imagine that ten thousand other little groups like ours, all over North America, are asking the same question,” Cole said.

  Hank nodded his head in agreement.

  “Something is moving around out here,” Bev radioed from out by the swimming pool. “Near the timber line.”

  “Staggering and lurching about?” Cole asked.

  “That’s 10-4. Oh, shit. I know what they are now.”

  “Are they moving toward the house?”

  “Negative. They’re staying close to the timb
er. Waving their arms.”

  “You know how to stop them.”

  “Indeed I do,” Bev replied. “But they’re being careful to stay out of range.”

  Ruth stood up. “I want to see these . . . things.”

  “They aren’t very pretty,” Hank said. “And if, well, others who have been in the ground for any length of time have joined them, it’s awful.”

  Ruth suppressed a shudder. “We have to know what we’re up against. I’ll get the others. When I shout, turn on the floodlights, will you?”

  A perimeter banger went off on the north side of the house.

  “They’re here!” Cole said, picking up his M-14 with his right hand and keying the mic switch to the handy-talkie with his left. “All guards, heads up. Pull in tight and shoot anything that moves. Try for a head shot. That’s all that will stop them.”

  “Pretty early in the game for Mr. Evil to be throwing this at us,” Hank remarked, picking up and checking his rifle.

  “Maybe he isn’t doing it,” Cole mused aloud. “Maybe the floodgates, so to speak, have been thrown wide open from the beginning and anything goes from now on.”

  “Interesting thought,” the priest said. “Distressing, but interesting.”

  “Hit the floods!” Ruth shouted from near the swimming pool.

  Front and back were illuminated with artificial light.

  And all those gathered got their first real glimpse of Hell.

  Nine

  “Oh, dear God!” Ruth breathed.

  Just at the edge of the floodlights’ far reaches of illumination, the men who had been felled by the guns of those defending the house were lurching and staggering around. Cole estimated the range at just under two hundred yards.

  “Go get John Brown,” he told Bev. “I want him to see this.”

  She looked at him strangely, then nodded her head. She returned in a couple of minutes, John Brown in front of her.

  “There is your everlasting life, Brown,” Cole told the man. “Take a good look at it and then tell me that’s how you want to spend eternity.”

  The man stared at the grotesque creatures stumbling and shuffling about.

  “You think they have everlasting life, Brown?” Cole asked.

  “That’s what was promised us,” Brown replied in a whisper.

  “Watch this.” Cole knelt down and assumed the kneeling firing position. He took careful aim and gently took up trigger slack. The rifle fired, and Brown watched a man’s head explode in a shower of blood and fluid and brains. The walking dead fell to the ground and did not move.

  The others lurched and stumbled into the timber and disappeared.

  Cole’ stood up. “There is your eternal life, Brown.”

  “He lied to us,” Brown whispered. “He lied!”

  “What else is new?” Hank said.

  Brown suddenly took off running toward the timber. “Shoot me!” he screamed. “Shoot me, please. Finish me now. I’m begging you, shoot me!”

  But no one could.

  Cole had lifted his rifle to his shoulder, then lowered it. “Hell, I can’t shoot the man.”

  “Kill me!” Brown screamed, turning around and facing the group by the pool. “Shoot me in the head. For the love of God, don’t let me end up like those things down there. I don’t expect God to forgive me; I’m not asking for that. Just don’t let me become one of them. Please, please kill me!” He raised his arms—a human cross. “Kill me!”

  Hank’s 7 mm mag blasted the night, the slug taking off a part of John Brown’s head and flinging him backward. Hank slowly lowered the rifle. “He was sincere,” the priest said. “God might even cut him some slack. Who knows?”

  “You people keep a sharp eye out,” Cole said. “I’ll go get Brown before those creatures get to him. They have been known to eat the dead.”

  That did it for Sue Wong. She fainted.

  * * *

  The president and his family were staying at Andrews AFB, outside Washington, under heavy guard. While the government of the United States had not yet ground to a halt, it was precariously close to collapse. In D.C. proper, the House and Senate buildings had been attacked by mobs of howling people. While neither building had been destroyed, both had suffered heavy damage. The madness, as officials of the U. S. government had begun calling the upswing of violence, had now spread north and south of America’s borders.

  Mexico and Canada were now experiencing hundreds of seemingly mindless acts of savage violence. The leaders of those countries had been whisked away to safety and, just as in the United States, government was very close to collapse.

  Contrary to what many people believe, governments are fragile institutions, and very easy to topple. Governments are built and maintained by three things: faith and force and fear. Once the faith in government and the fear of government retribution is gone, all the force that government has at its power won’t hold it together.

  The military in the three nations that made up North America began to crumble from within, as the unknown evil force spread like unchecked wildfires. Soldiers began worrying about their loved ones back home and left bases to see about them . . . and they did so without permission, since all units had been placed on high alert. Many of the nation’s military personnel stayed in place, of course, but enough left to weaken the various units. And the madness also affected a certain percentage of the military, further weakening it. On every base across America, Canada, and Mexico, enlisted men turned on officers and officers turned on enlisted men. Many families living on base housing were slaughtered during the first seventy-two hours. Once everything could be sorted out, and some kind of order restored, it was all the military could do to protect its own people and equipment, much less protect civilians.

  A state of national emergency was declared in America, but nobody paid much attention to the order. There is no way a few hundred thousand troops and police can contain two-hundred-and-fifty million citizens, whose mind-set ranged from angry to frightened to confused to hell-bent for self-destruction.

  God looked at what was happening and sighed, while the Devil howled his laughter . . . and thanked his allies.

  * * *

  “Jenny,” Cole said, stepping into the study. “Get as many locations of groups such as ours as you can. Stay with it and print them out. I don’t know how much longer communications will be up and working.”

  “Yes, sir. I anticipated that. I’ve been printing out locations for the past hour.”

  “Good girl.”

  “This . . . madness has spread to Canada now,” she said. “It’s really bad up there.”

  Before Cole could reply, the strains of Eddie Heywood’s beautiful “Canadian Sunset” filled the study.

  Cole looked all around him, a very disgusted expression on his face.

  “And it’s all over Mexico, too,” Jenny added.

  “I can’t hardly wait for this one,” Cole muttered.

  The music changed, the orchestra shifted to guitars, softly playing “My Adobe Hacienda.”

  “Oh, screw you!” Cole said.

  The music stopped.

  Cole looked at Jenny. “Relax, Jenny. He can’t hurt you.”

  “How come, Mr. Cole?” the young lady asked. “He, it, can do all these other things. Why can’t he hurt us?”

  “As Hank says, the rules of the game.”

  “Some game.”

  “Yeah.”

  Cole returned to the den to stand for a moment, looking at the wide-screen TV. Conditions were worsening all over North America. Many of the police who were not infected with the madness were staying home to protect their families. The military had been reduced to about half its normal size and, for the most part, were stationed around the nation’s bases.

  “I finally figured it out,” Hank said, looking at Cole. “I think.”

  “What?”

  “If Satan wins, this fight will go on forever and ever. Nobody will really die. They’ll suffer pain, then recover, and
fight again, for eternity. It’s Hell,” he said softly. “That has to be at least a part of it.”

  “My, my,” the voice leaped out of the air. “You are a smart one, aren’t you, priest?”

  “I much prefer the music over your oily voice,” Hank said, without taking his eyes from the TV. “At least I can relate to that.”

  “You’re an insulting bastard.”

  “And you’re a jerk,” Hank popped right back.

  The TV screen suddenly blew out, showering everybody with tiny bits of glass. Fire and smoke leaped from the gaping hole, then died away.

  Music began pouring from the speakers. “Twilight Time.”

  Cole brushed the tiny bits of glass from his clothing and glanced out the front window. Dusk was settling over the land.

  “Here we go again,” Cole muttered.

  “You got that right, Deputy Dawg,” the voice spoke. “Tonight we’ll have some real fun.”

  “Answer a question for me?”

  “Fire away. No pun intended.”

  “How can you . . . ah ... where did you get all this music? How can you just produce it out of, ah, ah, thin air, so to speak?”

  “I have absorbed everything since the beginnings of time. All knowledge, all music, everything. I am the supreme being on earth.”

  “Sort of a super-duper cosmic computer, eh?” Hank said, brushing glass off his shirt.

  “Very good! For a pukey priest, that is.”

  “Do you take requests?” Hank asked.

  Silence for a moment. “Just about the time I start liking you, priest, you turn smart-ass on me. Oh, why not? What would you like to hear?”

  “How about . . . ’Rock of Ages’?”

  Silence for a moment. “So sorry. I erased that one a long time ago.”

  “How about . . . ’How Great Thou Art’?”

  “Careful, priest. I will only take so much of your insults. Despite the fact that yours is one of my favorite groups. You’re all so inventive. But I could end your lives tonight should I so desire, and your smart mouth is pushing me toward that decision.”

  “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it, huh?” Hank asked.

  After a moment, a dark and evil chuckle filled the air. “Very good, priest. You’re deliberately trying to anger me. To test my powers. I must remember to never underestimate you. Any of you, for that matter. Well, except for that Chink bitch. She hasn’t shown me anything as yet. Ah, but tonight we’ll see how good you really are. Ta-ta!”