Blood and Rain by Glenn Rolfe Page A

creation.
    Standing now, in the presence of such wicked history, in the high-noon sun, Joe walked into the town’s abandoned burial ground. The sky above was clear; the blanket of silence around him set his senses on high alert. Despite the eighty-eight-degree temperature, a cold chill full of sleeping skeletons, smiling demons and all things unnatural trickled carelessly down his spine.
    It took him a few minutes to find the exact spot that he had dug for the monster, as the small wooden cross he placed to mark it had been knocked over. He found the crudely made cross laying at the foot of a tall pine standing ten feet from the otherwise unmarked grave. Joe plunged the shovel he had carried with him from the Range Rover into the soft earth and began to dig.
    â€œHey,” Dwayne said.
    Ted leaned against the stairs to his apartment. The cigarette wobbled in his palsied hand, his eyes swam for the shore. When he brought his gaze up to meet Dwayne’s, they ignited.
    â€œDid you see it?”
    â€œI need you to calm down.”
    â€œDid you see it? The arm? The body? Did you?”
    Dwayne stayed just outside the door. “I…” He hadn’t had time. Not that he wanted to see it. Joe had sent him to grab Ted before he could walk the scene. “No.”
    â€œWell I did, Dwayne.” Ted took a drag. “I don’t know what did that, but I know what could .”
    â€œC’mon, Ted.”
    â€œI’m not asking you to believe it, but I suggest you open your eyes. Three bodies, Dwayne. This makes three.”
    â€œI don’t want to get back into this with you.”
    â€œThen what the hell do you want?”
    â€œJoe wants you back down at the station.”
    Ted dropped the cigarette butt, stamped it out and lit another.
    â€œHe needs to talk to you about the body.”
    Ted shoved past him and climbed the first couple of steps before he turned back. “Tell him he can come and see me. I’m not going anywhere.”
    â€œTed.”
    He watched his best friend tromp up the stairs and disappear inside.
    Shit.
    Soaked with sweat and grimed with dirt, Joe put down his shovel, giving up the slim ray of hope as he realized what he already knew on some level to be true—the grave was empty. The thing he had shot down and buried in this very spot was still alive. He didn’t know how it had survived. All he knew was that it hadn’t been breathing when he stuck its charred carcass in the ground. Nothing about the creature made any sense—not its murders, not its existence—so why should its demise?
    He made a stop back home, took a shower and had a few swallows of whiskey before heading back out. The whole time he was thinking about how much this felt like some kind of never-ending nightmare. The one thing that protected his sanity was the fact that if this was the same beast, then that meant he had time to prepare. And he would.
    After checking in with Sonya and informing her that he was going to be tied up for the next few days with the investigation, he stopped by the laundromat and asked Kim’s mom if Sonya could stay at her house for the time being. Sonya had tried arguing that she was almost eighteen and that she could handle being home by herself, but he’d told her the issue wasn’t up for debate. He did not mention that they had found Old Mike, severed arm and all, down at the park in a pool of his own blood.
    He arrived at the station, greeted by deputies Clarke and Hines.
    Deputy Clarke noticed the change in the sheriff right away. He looked like someone being tormented from the inside out. The lines on his face were deeper than they had been earlier in the day. Dwayne didn’t want to be the one to tell him that Ted had refused to come in, but his friend was his responsibility.
    â€œSheriff,” he said, “Ted’s at home. I went to see him and, well…I didn’t fight him. Hell, he looked…” Dwayne