Chapter Four

As if the stress of driving in a dust storm while not knowing which direction you’re headed after having just left a town full of vicious gnashers wasn’t bad enough, blue and red lights flashed behind us, followed by three whoops of a siren.

Harry turned and looked back. “Cops? We can’t possibly be speeding…”

“We are driving a stolen truck,” Sheila said, her knuckles white around the steering wheel.

I looked out the back window. I could see the car, but the driver was obscured from view.

Harry put a hand on Sheila’s shoulder. “Relax, babe. We can just explain--”

“Pfft! Yeah!” Sheila snapped. “Tell the cops all about monsters and demons. Biblical prophecy and all that stuff. At least our excuse will be original.” She rolled her eyes.

“We don’t tell them that!” Harry snapped back. “What? You think I’m stupid! No, we just tell ‘em some wacko tried to kill us with a machete and we escaped in his truck.”

“They’ll lock us up!” Sheila yelled. “We’ll be sitting ducks!”

“You don’t think God’s looking out for us?”

“God helps those who help themselves!”

“We have a peacemaker!”

“So?”

“All will be well!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Have a little faith!”

Their arguing grew more and more heated, and I cringed at every insult thrown between them. My stomach felt sick, listening to this otherwise loving couple fight, and I tried to tune it out.

All the while the blue and red lights flashed behind us. The police car followed, but did not draw any closer.

“Guys!” Candice finally yelled over the two of them. “Guys! Just pull over! Gah!”

Sheila sighed and turned the wheel to direct the truck to the side of the road. She tapped the break, and the truck screeched to a stop.

Behind us, the police car stopped. Its lights still turned, and the silhouette behind the wheel bent down to pick something up.

“He’s not looking,” Sheila whispered. “If I floor it I can lose him.”

“We can’t see jack in this and you want to floor it?” Harry hissed.

In the distance, I heard the sound of two motorcycles heading our way.

The nauseous sensation in my stomach grew stronger. “How many bullets do you guys have left?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at me. “Five. Why? You think the cop’s a… whatever... one of those monsters?”

I looked out the back window at the police car again. “This whole thing feels like a trap.”

The roar of the motorcycles drew closer.

Who rode a motorcycle that fast in a dust storm?

“Why don’t you have a gun?” I asked Harry.

Harry pointed to the patch on his leather jacket, the one that said, “Probationary.”

“I’m not allowed to carry a gun while wearing Bandits colors yet,” said Harry. “Haven’t earned my place.”

“So, I carry one,” said Sheila, her eyes still fixed on the rearview mirror. “Bit of a loophole.”

The cop car door opened, and out walked a man in the blue uniform of the Lusk police department. He wore a pair of sunglasses, and covered his mouth with his hand.

My heart raced. “He’s covering his mouth! He’s a gnasher! Floor it!”

“He might be covering it because of the dust,” said Harry in a low tone. “Stay calm.”

By the sound of it, the motorcycles were right on top of us. In my panic I wanted to run from the truck into the field on our right, but when I shifted in that cramped space I was reminded that there were no backdoors in this truck. If I was to get out, I’d have to climb over either Harry or Sheila.

Or out the back window, but the not-yet-dry blood upon the shards of broken glass jutting every which way warned me of my fate should I try that.

From the clouds of brown and gray, two dark Harley Davidsons zipped past us, going far faster than any sane person would. Both riders wore helmets with visors completely covering their faces. In a blink, they were gone, into the distance ahead of us.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, they were reckless idiots, not gnashers.

I glanced out the back window again, just in time as the police officer took off his sunglasses and removed his hand from his mouth. In an instant I recognized his face.

“The Janitor!”

He grinned, exposing his pointed teeth.

Without a word, Sheila shifted the car into drive and slammed on the gas.

Sand kicked out from under the vehicle, causing the wheels to spin in place for a second.

The Janitor, now disguised as a police officer, drew his pistol and pointed it at the back of the truck.

Bang!

Sparks flew from the raised tailgate.

The truck lurched forward as it finally caught enough traction to move.

Bang!

A second shot, but this time from much further away.

“What did I say?” Sheila shouted at Harry, leaning forward in the seat in a vain attempt to better see the road ahead of them. “What did I say?”

“Fine! You were right!” Harry snapped back. “You happy?”

“No!”

“Stop arguing!” Candice yelled and smacked the back of Harry’s head. “We got bigger things to--”

Whatever Candice was about to say was cut off when Sheila jerked the steering wheel to the right. The brakes screamed and the tires screeched as she tried to avoid the hazard in the road.

I looked up, and saw two spike strips laid across the road. In spite of Sheila’s efforts, we rolled right over them.

Pop!

Whump.

Whump.

Whump.

My head smacked the back of Harry’s seat, then the back wall of the truck, as the Toyota left the asphalt and plowed through the tall grass.

Straight ahead was a barbed wire fence.

The truck jerked up and down with every bump in its path.

Crunch!

The truck rolled over the fence.

Pop!

Another tire torn asunder.

A herd of cows scattered out of our way as we bulldozed through the fields of tall grass.

Motorcycle engines roared.

A police siren howled.

The truck finally came to a stop when the bumper hit a rock hidden in the tall grass. Candice and I smacked against the backs of the seats in front of us, and then against the truck’s back wall.

Harry pushed open the door and fell out.

Sheila did the same, but landed on her feet.

Candice started climbing over the space between the seats, and I did what I could to help get her foot untangled from the upholstery.

Once she was out of the way, I started my attempt to climb out, squeezing through the narrow spaces. The center console caved in under my weight, and my chin hit the stick shift. The horn wailed when my knee hit it, and I tumbled out of the vehicle on the passenger side, landing on my face in the grass.

Harry reached down and picked up a rock the size of his fist. He tossed it to himself a few times, and stared at the approaching bikers.

When I finally managed to clamber to my feet, Harry pulled back and chucked the stone, like a baseball.

Crack!

I looked up as one of the bikers flew backwards off his motorcycle and smacked down on the gravel behind him. The bike sailed forward on its own for a moment, then fell to one side and spun out of control.

On the other side of the truck, I heard Sheila spray another plume of flames at the other biker. When I turned my head, the other gnasher blew past her, shielding himself from the fire with his arm.

The fallen biker, in the Sons of Darkness jacket, pushed himself off the ground and sat upright.

Harry picked up another fist-sized stone from the ground and charged at him.

Before the Son of Darkness was fully to his feet, Harry tackled him and smacked the rock against the visor of his helmet, splitting it in two.

The Son of Darkness wrestled with Harry, but the bandit forced the gnasher’s hands away and smacked him again with the rock, this time breaking through the visor.

Desperate, the Son of Darkness seized Harry’s throat and squeezed.

Harry brought the rock down again, this time on the gnasher’s exposed face.

The Son of Darkness went limp, but Harry wasn’t satisfied. He beat him over and over again with the stone, a savage holler escaping the back of his throat.

The other biker, in the Sinners jacket, had disappeared into the dust in the distance. But we heard his engine rev as he turned around and came back. He kept one hand on the handlebars, but in his other he held a meat hook.

Sheila dropped her bottle of hairspray, drew her gun, and fired at him three times.

The third shot tore his front tire. The bike flipped, throwing the gnasher forward.

Sheila and Candice tumbled out of the way as the Sinner crashed onto the ground, bounced, rolled, and finally came to a stop.

The police car pulled up in front of Harry, who was still staggering after his last fight. Illuminated in blue and red lights, the Janitor stepped out of the vehicle, drew his pistol, and pointed at Harry.

Bang!

Harry fell flat on his back.

Sheila and I both screamed, and she started toward her husband.

Then, to my shock, Harry rolled up and grasped his thigh with both hands, groaning and shouting. Blood gushed from a hole in his thigh.

The Janitor pointed his gun at Sheila. “Stop!” She stopped dead in her tracks, her face pale with terror.

Where had Candice gone?

The Janitor turned to me. “Come on, now, heal your friend.” He walked closer to Harry, though he was sure to stay just out of arm’s reach. “He’s been shot in the femoral artery. If you don’t act soon he’ll die.”

The gnasher didn’t even pretend this wasn’t a trap, but I couldn’t help myself. If there was even the slightest chance of saving Harry’s life I needed to take it.

As I approached, I heard the sound of another engine drawing near. Not a motorcycle or a truck. Something else.

I fell to my knees at Harry’s side.

“No…” he groaned. “Run, kid! Run!”

I placed both hands on his thigh. “Shut up.”

“I’m not worth this… I’ve robbed, I’ve lied, I cheated on Sheila… I deserve this. Don’t waste your time on--”

“I said shut up!” I yelled and held his thigh tighter.

Harry groaned in pain, but I could feel the wet, sticky blood under my fingers flowing back into his body.

The Janitor drew closer, his ankle just outside Harry’s reach.

I held fast to Harry’s wound, and prayed that the moment he was healed he would throw the gnasher to the ground and kill him, like he had the Son of Darkness.

Throbbing pain rose up my palms to my elbows. I lifted my hands just for a moment. The wound was sealed.

The Janitor aimed the gun at Harry’s face and pulled the trigger.

The world went silent as I watched Harry’s head smack the ground and a stream of blood explode upward from his forehead.

“No!” Sheila screamed.

When I looked back, the Sinner had her in his grasp, and held the meat-hook to her throat.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I stared down at Harry’s lifeless body. The Janitor let out a cackling laughter, and the Sinner followed suit.

A white van pulled up beside the road and parked in front of the police car. When the side doors opened, Jesus Shirt and the Veteran hopped out. Behind the wheel sat Granny, her unblinking eyes watching us from behind gaudy, pink-rimmed glasses with rhinestones.

The Janitor crouched down in front of me, sitting like a frog on a lily-pad. He held his instrument of murder so casually. “You gave us a good run, boy. Hey! Look at me!”

I reluctantly brought my gaze up to meet his. I could barely see his face through my own tears. For so long, I’d been so proud of being a peacemaker. Nothing felt better than healing the wounded. But now, the burning hatred within made me wish I could give it all up, just to bash this monster’s brains in.

“This is nothing to feel ashamed about, boy,” said the Janitor, his voice chipper and friendly. “You played our little game, and you and your friends even managed to kill three of us. You should be proud, even though you lost.”

The Veteran and Jesus Shirt lifted Harry’s body off the ground and carried him back to the van. They unceremoniously tossed his limp body into the back, a trail of blood leading from where he’d fallen to the white vehicle with no side windows.

The Sinner dragged Sheila over to the Janitor. Tears and mucus ran down her face as she wept and sobbed with the hook at her throat.

The Janitor looked up at the Sinner and held out a pair of handcuffs to him. “Put her in the back of the car.

The Sinner snatched the handcuffs and clicked them closed over Sheila’s wrists behind her back, then pushed her over to the back of the cop car. She struggled, thrashed, and screamed, but he forced her into the back and slammed the door shut.

“Fraid we’re gonna have to cuff you too, boy.” The Janitor feigned sympathy, and not especially well. “You can try to run again if you want, but I’ll just shoot you in the leg. Or you can try to fight and we’ll hurt the widow.” He casually pointed the gun at the police car. “Or you can just surrender. Come on, boy. There’s no point in fighting.”

“You believe in God, kid?” Jesus Shirt snickered. “peacemakers usually do. If so, just consider this the lion’s den and you’re Daniel.”

I had never felt so much hate boiling inside of me. I imagined smashing every one of their faces with stones. Or lighting them on fire and relishing the sounds of their screams.

But there was nothing I could do. Even if I was capable of taking life, there were too many of them and I was unarmed.

I wiped the tears from my eyes, and stood before the Janitor. After staring at him with fury on my face, I turned my back to him and held out both wrists behind me.

“Smart boy,” he said as he clasped the cuffs around my forearms. “Find the girl!” he yelled as he escorted me to the back door of the police car. “She can’t have gone far. She’s in a red hoodie, bound to stand out, even in all this.” He forced me into the back seat and slammed the door shut behind me.

Through the window and the dust, I watched as the gnashers wandered the fields, keeping their eyes cast low for any sign of Candice.

Please, God, don’t let them find her. Please don’t let them find her. Please don’t let them find her…

The Veteran stopped next to the blue Toyota, then crouched down, reached underneath, and dragged Candice out by her ankle. She thrashed and kicked and screamed, but the other gnashers hurried over and wrestled her into submission. The Janitor, apparently out of handcuffs, used zip-ties on her wrists and pressed his gun to her back. He said something to her I couldn’t hear, and she looked up at the police car’s back seat, where Sheila and I sat in silence. An expression of defeat and despair on her face, she started marching toward the car.

The Janitor opened the door and said, “Both of you, scoot over.”

Sheila and I shifted, allowing Candice to take her seat beside us.

The Janitor jumped in the front seat, with the Veteran riding beside him. He started the car, turned it around, and began the drive back to Lusk.

The Veteran turned around in his seat to face us. “Y’all gave us so much trouble, but I think this is gonna be worth it.”

The Janitor giggled like a little boy who’d just broken a piñata. “But it’s worth it! The chase was fun, and we’re set for life. We’ll never have to worry about starving again.”

“What kinds of movies you kids like?” asked the Veteran, his voice surprisingly friendly. “I mean, you need something to do when we’re not feedin’ ya know?”

We said nothing.

The Veteran shook his head at us. “C’mon, now. Don’t make those faces. It ain’t gonna be all bad. Sure, we’ll feed on you as we need to, but we ain’t gonna kill ya. After the first couple months you’ll get used to it all.”

“This is your new life now,” said the Janitor.

Again, none of us spoke a word. Sheila stared at the ceiling, her lips moving to silent prayers and her tears drawing lines in the dirt on her face. Candice stared at the floor, biting her lip. I glared at the two gnashers, praying God would bring down his hand of judgment to crush them.

But at that moment, God seemed further away than he’d ever been.

The smile disappeared from the Veteran’s face. “Now, if y’all are gonna be that way about it, looks like we gotta start out doing this the hard way.”

Why do You stand afar off, O LORD? Why do You hide Yourself in times of trouble?

-Psalm 10:1