The Influence(124)
Kevin!
Had it gotten to Kevin, too?
No, it hadn’t. Ross opened his eyes to see his nephew sprinting away from the emerging demon—for that’s what it was, he had finally decided, a demon—and unspooling det wire behind him.
“Get back!” Kevin was shouting to anyone within hearing distance. “Get away!”
Ross and Hec heeded the advice, as did several men and women who had started to wander back from the burning barn. Whether they believed in the angel or not, they understood after what had happened to the barn that Kevin was about to do some serious damage, and their survival instinct kicked in, overriding everything else.
McDaniels still had his rifle trained on Cameron Holt, but as soon as Ross and Hec ran by, he joined them, all three speeding past the edge of the house and down a section of the drive before a thunderous clap and a blast of hot wind at their backs made them stop and turn around.
A massive blaze, taller than it was wide, with flames of different color flaring up and out, engulfed the black figure on the old smokehouse’s foundation, including the searching tentacle. In the fire, the remainder of the chrysalis burned away, and for a brief moment, the thing inside rose to its feet, stretching out to full size. It had thick black wings, but they clung to the spiky body rather than extending. The head, even more triangular than before, and more geometric than antlike, displayed a horrific face bearing almost no resemblance to anything human, insect or animal. From within the multi-colored flames, red eyes looked upon them with hatred and a depth of knowledge so vast that its very gaze made Ross more terrified than he had ever been in his life.
Kevin knew what he was doing, however. Like a fire tornado, the blaze shot up, swirling around the figure, and the heat was so great that the skin began to melt. The monster screamed, but instead of a roar there was a whistle, a keening so high-pitched and powerful that Ross thought his eardrums were going to burst.
Then it was gone.
The burning monstrosity didn’t collapse or shatter, it simply disappeared, winking out of existence as though it had never been there in the first place. The inferno surrounding it lost all color for a second, looked black-and-white, and then it was a normal fire, the kind that burned houses and forests, yellow and orange.
Stunned, confused—was it really all over?—the three of them started slowly back, McDaniels and Hec with their rifles at the ready, just in case.
A lone figure emerged from behind the tightly controlled blaze, walking toward them. “Over here!” Kevin shouted.
On the porch, a furious Cameron Holt raised his shotgun.
Hec’s bullet took him down.
As he ran over to his nephew, Ross wondered if Hec’s action had been necessary—the man was a sharpshooter, after all. Couldn’t he have been more precise? Couldn’t he have injured the rancher rather than killed him?—but he was grateful that Kevin was okay, and though he wasn’t sure they had ever hugged before, they hugged now, and Kevin cried into his shoulder like a little boy.
On the porch, Father Ramos was on his knees, praying out loud for forgiveness.
Ross was crying, too, and the hug lasted for a long time, family clinging to family for support. Around them, rifles raised, McDaniels and Hec looked out for anything amiss.
Ross wondered if cellphones worked here now, and pulling away from his nephew with a final pat on the back, he took out his phone and punched in 911.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” a woman’s voice on the other end of the line responded.
Unprepared, Ross didn’t know what to say. “There’s a fire at Cameron Holt’s ranch outside of Magdalena,” he finally got out.
“What is the address on that, sir?”
“I don’t know, but you can’t miss the smoke.”
“I’m afraid I’ll need—” Before the dispatcher could continue to question him, he clicked off.
“If the cops question you on shootin’ Holt,” McDaniels was telling his friend, “I’ll swear it was self-defense.”
Ross nodded. “We all will,” he said.
Hec shrugged. “If it even comes to that. This thing ain’t registered, so they might not figure out it’s me. Lotta people hated Cameron. He had it comin’.”
“But if someone else here reports it was you…”
Hec nodded toward the still-burning barn, where dazed townspeople were wandering around aimlessly, as though they’d just woken up after sleepwalking. “I ain’t gonna worry about it.”
They left the fires burning. It was a long trek back out to the car, and they hiked through not only strange dying foliage but past the inert bodies of animals that were not quite animals, many of which were deteriorating into a gelatinous mess.