Chapter 24: Pulling the Nail

They drove and Luis shuddered thinking about what Martin had said.

"... the movement will be everywhere…we’re going to spread like a virus…” Goosebumps rippled down his arms and Luis imagined cities full of these half-dead monsters. The canopy above them thinned and the road began to smooth out. Only a few days ago he was a washed up journalist looking for a big break. He was lonely, tired, and going through a somewhat early mid-life crisis.

And now? There was no answer to that question. Perhaps he had died and been banished to hell? And what had he become? The real horror lay in his own actions.

The dark woods ended and now they were in dazzling sunlight. It dappled the car and Luis enjoyed the warmth, even if it was superficial. Up ahead was a large blue lake and on its shore Luis could see the resort.

The lake and the surrounding resort were even more beautiful than their description. The elegant white buildings lay above placid, crystal blue water. The main house had a Southern feel to it, with graceful columns front columns and a beautiful balcony that ran the length of the lake side. A flock of ducks lazily flew across the sky. In the distance, Luis could see several brightly colored sailboats and an elegant dock that spanned part of the beach.

Luis finally understood why people came from all over the world to vacation at the resort and regretted not visiting sooner, in better circumstances.

Kathy’s face was blank. If she saw the beauty it wasn’t registering. She was closed, gone, lost in her own world. And perhaps that was a better place to be. There was a serpent waiting at the bottom of the lake, waiting to come up and disrupt the tranquility, to tip over the sailboats, to destroy the dock, and to smash those columns.

Several sparkling cars were parked around a round rotunda at the resort’s entrance – Mercedes, BMWs, even a Ferrari and a Rolls Royce. Milling about, coming in and out, chatting amiably were well dressed, well ironed, perfectly manicured people. One of the car doors opened and a jolly man bounced out and shook hands with another guest. They patted each other on the back and one of them made a motion like a golf swing. The resort attendant watched them and smiled. They rounded the corner and the men disappeared from sight. The car came to a stop and the door opened.

For an instant he thought about making a run for it. Perhaps he could squeeze by Martin and the guard and reach the front of the building. He would warn all of them. Deep inside he knew it was futile. The guests would only see him as a screaming lunatic. The stunt would only ensure his imminent doom and that would only make what he had done so far completely futile. No, it made more sense to wait for a better opportunity.

"Let's go Luis," Martin said and he felt himself getting out of the car and walking through a service entrance. Martin was talking as he dragged Kathy along. Men and women were staring at Kathy being pulled like a dog on a leash. But no one said a thing.

"I reorganized some of the staff at the resort and replaced them with more efficient employees. It was tough getting rid of so many people, but it had to be done. I believe it's called downsizing, re engineering, or something like that. Lucky for you Luis, I saved you a spot. I wouldn't want to prevent you from sharing in the fun."

"I don't want a spot." Martin yanked at the chain to make Kathy keep up as they passed into the kitchen. The chefs worked, chopping the food, sautéing, placing large trays in the oven. The savory aromas could not cover the foul stench.

"Decline a position! No, no, Luis, please don't be so modest. I won't hear it. You see, you're the new emcee at the resort. You will greet the guests, welcome them, and make them feel comfortable. Only a human can do that. Only a human has the capacity to befriend while at the same time sharpening the knives and preparing the coals for the big roast."

"No, I won't do it." Martin smiled and grabbed Kathy's hair. He pulled her over to a deli slicing machine and turned it on. The blades slowly began to spin and Kathy's nostrils flared.

"Luis, that position, didn't I hear you thanking me for it." Kathy's face was forced an inch forward and the blades caught several hairs and shredded them.

At that moment, Luis realized that he was more enslaved than the foul creatures that mindlessly heeded Martin's every word. He had voluntarily yielded his free will while the others had been coerced into bondage. From the moment he had bartered with Martin to save his life, he had sold himself to the dark path that Martin followed. Now he knew that death was his only release. He should die, he deserved to die. If only there wasn’t that issue of self-preservation. Damn it, he was to cowardly to even think about dying.

"Allright Martin, I'll do it, please don't hurt Kathy." Martin giggled and gently drew Kathy's head back. He stroked her hair before dropping her to the ground.

"It would have been a shame to hurt her pretty head," he said as they walked from the kitchen. "Besides, both of your parts in this drama are far from over." And then Martin did something that made Luis gasp. He reached out and as if he was closing a curtain, drawing in invisible folds in the air. He released them and made a fist as the colors began to coalesce in front of Luis. The swirling air sparkled and then he saw himself and Kathy grimacing in pain as a light surrounded their hands. In the image, his eyes bulged with pain and tears streaked down Kathy's face. As they drew something out of the soil, the light brightened and then the image shattered into wisps of light that fizzled out like dying fireworks on the fourth of July. Martin unclenched his fist and the image faded completely.

"Pretty neat, huh?" Luis didn't quite understand.

"What was that?"

"The gateway Luis, the gateway to all infinity. You and Kathy are going to help me find it." So that was why he kept them alive.

Luis wore a white suit and would have been impressed by the fit if he was in a different situation. As a reporter, he had never owned anything that fit him that well - his jackets were usually too big, and his clothes more than a season or two behind the times. The pin on his lapel read Ernesto Droll - Events Organizer. He wondered about David Droll’s fate.

Martin pushed him out the door and towards the foyer where a small crowd was gathering. The guests had begun to arrive in earnest and he was supposed to welcome them in. Yes, welcome them to the bitter finale that Martin had so cleverly planned with his help.

It took only a second for him to recognize some of the faces. Jonathan Litton, the Assistant Secretary of the Treasury was talking with Carols Gutted, a famous painter from Argentina. Next to them was a small bald man who clung to a gorgeous woman. She was wearing a small black dress that accentuated unnaturally perky breasts. Someone tapped his shoulder and Luis recognized the starting quarterback for the state's professional football team – The Metropolitan CougarCats.

"Can I help you?" he asked trying to sound the part.

"There seems to be some kind of mix up in my reservation. I had requested a room with a view of the lake." He didn't have a clue about how to help the man. Martin hadn't bothered to train him in resort operations. He looked around and found a live staff member over near the check-in desk.

"If you just go over to that desk, I'm sure that they'll be glad to help you."

"You can't help?"

"No, I'm sorry." The man grunted and sauntered away. Luis smelled the heavy cologne of a few of the fetid ones as they strolled through the resort, watching, watching him in particular. to make sure he didn't ruin Martin's plans.

There was another tap on his shoulder and Luis felt something being shoved into his mouth.

"Ernesto, good to see you aga..." The man stopped to look at him and he drew a step back. "You're not Ernesto, who in the hell are you!" It was Walt Willicare, the paunchy comedian with a large mole on his left cheek. Luis had seen his show "Keep you Laughing" and thought it was average but not really as good as the ratings it received. He felt bewildered and the comedian seized the opportunity to question him further.

"What the hell happened to Ernesto? I talked to him two days ago and assured me he would be here. I've come to the resort for over twenty years and Ernesto has always been here. What's going on?" Luis froze and he saw the fetid ones looking at him from across the room. At that moment he was yanked away by another woman who demanded to know the exact time of the great evening ball event. Luis smiled and directed her to another employee. In the background he could hear Walt talking with another guest.

"Something is not right here. I tell you, Ernesto is always here. I smell something rotten." The rest of the men broke up into laughter, but Luis did not hear the comedian laughing at his own joke.

The rest of the day progressed and he cajoled and smiled, shook hands and patted people on the back. The smiles, the wealth, and the beauty almost made him forget he was one of the principal actors in an oncoming tragedy. He could already hear the warning horn and see the dim light of the train approaching from ahead. Indeed, all the signs seemed to indicate there would be a disaster. Yet, even as he slapped the flesh and flashed his smile Luis realized there was one last chance. He had been waiting for a moment, for a chance to correct for his sins over the last few days. He could see an opportunity and as he did a word formed in his mind. Redemption, he thought to himself.

He had never been a religious man. His parents had been Catholic and as a child he had been forced to go to Mass and say all the prayers. He had his communion and had even ventured to a healing ceremony at the request of his mother many odd years ago. Yet, religion had never done it for him. It was too much of a paradox and a strain on his common sense to really be believable. It preached about an all powerful God that never made an appearance, and about Popes that were supposed to be good but that had started holy wars and killed and tortured thousands of people. If that was religion, he wanted no part in it. The occult was much more logical to Luis. The pagan rituals aimed at connecting to the earth seemed more practical and sensible. If there was a power, it was stored in the land, in the soil, in the blood of all living creatures. Mix that together and perhaps the brew would produce something nutritious and a little bit strange.

Yet the concept of redemption taught in organized religion had become increasingly appealing to him over the last several days. Perhaps it had started with the strange feelings and the senses he had experienced. They had provided little clues and guided him, telling him to play it safe and stay alive.

Slowly a vision had begun to form. It displaced the sickening image he had of himself as a perverted traitor that was contributing to humanity’s demise. Redemption. He had the opportunity, he had the chance.

Despite all of the planning, there was a weakness in Martin's plan, a weakness which he wanted to exploit. He shook the hands and ruffled the guests’ feathers, waiting for the opportunity. As he did, a vision clarified and solidified in his head. His arms were outstretched and a blaze of fire rose from behind him. His hair began to singe and his skin grew dark from the heat. Blood trickled down his arms, his back arched, and his head drew back in a last spasm of pain and life. It was redemption. He looked at the fetid ones and smiled when he thought of the fireball.

"Redemption," he muttered under his breathe.

"Excuse me?" It was Martin. He had decided to view the crowd and was dressed in a white dinner jacket with a red cummerbund. Luis blinked out of his trance and looked at the little imp. The leering smile was still on his face and Martin looked at him with a look of curiosity and amusement. Luis could faintly smell his stench and he turned partially away.

"People are going to wonder why you smell so bad."

"So let them. They're all much too nice and clueless to suspect anything. People believe what they want to believe. These nice, rich, ritzy people, they might come and complain to you about my odor. If they do, tell them it will be taken care of and send them away. That's all they want to hear. Luis, they just want to know that their whims can be indulged."

"Just like your whims?"

"Exactly Luis. Except my whims really do get fulfilled." He patted Luis on the back. " You're doing an admirable job, very admirable. Keep it up and your future will look bright." Martin whirled away and disappeared into the crowd that was mixing and mingling. Luis began to make his way towards the exit and felt an arm grab his shoulder and spin him around.

"Where are you going?" It was Reverend Mulroney. Martin had assigned him to watch over Luis.

"Um, downstairs to look after a guests request." Reverend Mulroney just stared at him and Luis stared back. What's going on in there Reverend? Who the hell are you? He had watched the fetid ones and realized that they were all different. Some were quite articulate and agile; others were clumsy and almost subhuman. Who were they? What did they see and feel? Are you in there Reverend, tucked far away in the depths of your mind?

They began to walk down the hallway and Luis told himself to remain calm. He would not lose the opportunity and somehow he would rid himself of the un-holy Reverend. They came to the staircase leading down to the basement. Reverend Mulroney sniffed and as if he smelled shit and asked?

"What are getting down there?" Oh Christ Luis yelled at himself mentally, what am I getting down there? For a second he didn't think he could say anything and then as if some heroic muse put the words on his tongue he said:

"I'm looking for a wheelchair. One of the guests injured her foot and she asked if we had one." He turned away and walked down the stairs waiting for the Reverend to grab him and yank him back. Instead, the Reverend turned away and climbed back up the stairs.

He sighed in relief.

He reached the bottom, opened the door, and walked into a spare kitchen. It was empty and a bare overhead bulb dimly lit the room.

Although he had no idea where he as going, Luis had a general sense of what he was looking for. He was almost positive that it lurked somewhere in the depths of the resort. He wended his way through the kitchen and Luis examined the pipes and tried to estimate where they led.

He exited the kitchen and Luis found the pipe which fed the stoves running across the ceiling. He followed it down the hallway and to the right. The pipe led into a storage room full of extra mattresses, lamps, and other assorted resort items. He walked through it and followed on the path of the overhead pipe.

This is my quest, he thought.

He exited the storage room and walked down a cement block hallway. On each side of the hallway were doors to small, jail cell looking rooms. He peeked in one as he went by and remembered that the Resort had originally been a sanitarium. Polio, lupus, cancer, and malaria were the villains who had stalked these corridors.

The hallway ended and the pipes branched off to the left and right. Time was short and he couldn't afford to pick wrong. With nothing but his gut feeling Luis turned right.

Tonight, the Resort would return to its original purpose as a last stop before death. He imagined the people above him and Luis quickened his pace. The pipes curved to the right one more time and then led him into a large dark room with big drums and one gigantic tank. Luis had found what he was looking for, the boiler room.

There was a constant hum from the boiler room as the furnace pumped out the hot water and heat that fed the showers, faucets, and the countless other resort amenities. The gas piped curled down and disappeared into the ground. He reviewed the plan in his mind. He was not a mechanic. Far from it. A hammer felt awkward in his hand and he was often left puzzled about what to do when something wouldn't work or an item broke. Despite this, he had no doubts on this day. It almost seemed like someone was telling him what to do, popping into his subconscious and whispering the instructions into his mind.

He knelt down where the gas pipe disappeared into the chalky cement and ran his hand around the bottom of the metal pipe. His fingers stopped at a lever and he grasped it and twisted. It was stiff and Luis's knuckles turned white as he strained to open the vent. It wouldn’t open.

There was movement behind him and Luis pivoted around and stood up. He banged his head against the pipe and ricocheted backward onto the floor. Panicking, he ignored the pain and jumped up and around. He expected to see Martin standing there, leering at him with his normal sick grin.

"Luis, so you're looking for a wheelchair? I can see plenty of wheelchairs in here. Why don't I break your kneecaps and saw off your legs so that you can enjoy the time you’re going to spend in that wheelchair of yours..."

He readied himself to spring at the demon but when he turned it was not Martin. With surprise he looked upon the comedian, Walt Willicare.

"What are you doing?" He was momentarily paralyzed by fear but eventually found his tongue.

"There's been a problem with the gas and I'm just checking it out." The comedian looked at him and then down at the pipe.

"What kind of problem?" He looked suspicious and Luis wondered what he would do if the comedian insisted on leaving. He wouldn’t let Walt go.

"Gas problems," Luis said lamely. The big man didn’t move.

"There's something going on at this place, something..." Luis cut him off.

"Do yourself a favor and leave, leave this place immediately."

"You're not fixing the gas are you? Opening the gas pipe here isn't going to do anything but vent the gas throughout the basement. One match, and boom, the room goes up, the oil tanks go up, the whole building goes up. That's why you're down here, isn't it?" Luis cupped his face in his hands and began to shake. He could feel the stress coming up through his pores – the stinking, wafting scents of fear and hate, shame and rage. He didn't have the time to explain to Walt but with an effort he brought his body under control and uncupped his hands. He spoke directly.

"Yes, quite simply I'm going to blow this building to hell."

"Why?"

"I don't have time to tell you." Luis was growing exasperated. He had been gone for at least half an hour and he was sure that Martin had noticed his absence. His whole plan could be compromised. He imagined Martin's crew of fetid thugs jackbooting through the hotel looking for him.

"Something terrible is going to happen here very soon. Something that is going to impact the entire world and this is the only way to stop it!" Luis saw the bloom of fire and imagined the heat at his back. The word revolved in his head and he thought that perhaps his mind had finally snapped and that he had gone insane.

"This is the only redemption," Luis finally whispered as the comedian's eyes circled the room in fear and doubt.

"You're insane," Walt finally replied. Luis laughed as he thought about Martin and the pit, about watching Kathy being violated and seeing the poor souls in the giant pit. He thought about seeing Selectman Rooney's wife and the graves at the cemetery popping open to disgorge the newly undead. Physics turned upside down, and natural laws overturned as if they were nothing more than trivial constraints placed upon humanity. The shaking began again. And he realized that this was just the beginning. Martin and whoever he represented were here to gut the world that they knew - to take it and reshape it according to their ways. Good would become bad and utter evil would become speakable and good.

"No, the entire world is insane." Walt began to back towards the exit and Martin could see the fear in his eyes. "Walt, you must believe me. You can't tell anyone, if you do, it will ruin everything." Walt began to back out further and then came to a stop.

There was a noise and both of them froze. It sounded like something being dragged and Luis motioned for Walt to hide in a narrow space behind one of the oil tanks. The sound grew louder and Luis could hear shoes tapping against the cold cement floor.

His heart beat fast and although he prayed it was just another curious guest, he knew better. The dragging and the footsteps came to a stop and Walt gasped. Luis wriggled his body to peer out from a crack and exhaled at what he saw. The Reverend stopped in front of the entrance and peered into the room. He was wearing a shawl which was to long for him and it dragged on the floor. His eyes looked malicious and his head moved like a hunter searching for prey.

"Where are you Luis? Did you think I had forgotten about your little errand to get a wheelchair. Be a penitent servant and come out," the Reverend hissed.

The comedian began to shake as the Reverend stepped forward and entered the room. Luis looked at the pudgy man and motioned him to be silent.

"I can smell you Luis, I can sense you and I know that you're in here. And I know that the

big fat comedian is with you." Walt exhaled and Luis thought the poor man might piss his pants. Luis felt strangely calm. Once again he felt something or someone beside him, calming in, telling him what to do even though he couldn’t hear a thing. Luis heard the footsteps angle off to the right as the Reverend peered under several pipes and pieces of machinery.

Luis looked around and spotted a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall near the comedian. He tapped Walt on the shoulder and pointed towards it. He didn't think the comedian would respond. He poked him again and pointed aggressively towards the fire extinguisher.

"Luis," the Reverend said, turning solemn, "the Lord would not be happy. You told me a lie, and that's a sin. Come out and I will absolve you." He began to walk towards them and the walls vibrated with the level of his furious yell.

"LUIS, COME OUT!!" Walt leaned over and with an effort pulled the heavy fire extinguisher off its hook. Luis took it from him and grabbed the nozzle. The footsteps were louder and he could see the black shroud through the crack. There was another swish and the Reverend's face came into view.

"You bastard!" Luis yelled as he pressed down on the handle and the foam spewed out, hitting the Reverend in the face and propelling him backwards.

His anger flared and he felt a burst of strength. His heart was pounding as he rose from his stooped position and leapt at the retreating figure. He swung the extinguisher like a club and smashed it into the Reverend's head. It hit with a thud and the Reverend fell back onto the floor. Luis pounced on the splayed body and drove the heavy extinguisher into his head again, hearing the crunch of bones and feeling a pop as something yielded under the blow. He raised the extinguisher again and the Reverend raised his hand to try and ward off the blow.

"Oh no you motherfucker, don't you even think about it!"

"You don't know what you're fucking...," which was silenced as Luis crushed his jaw with another blow and then finally cracked his skull with a hit to the side of the head. There was no blood, but instead a bubble of dark sappy liquid slowly rose from the hole, formed a bubble, and then vomited over the pancake shaped skull. The smell was vile and Luis retched onto the body as the extinguisher fell from his exhausted grasp. He staggered backward and rested against the wall, watching and waiting to see what would happen.

For a few minutes the body was motionless and then there was a small spasm. The Reverend's fingers twitched and the body spasmed again. The spasming and twitching became more frequent and the body reached a state of vibration that shook the digits and limbs. The black syrup had congealed around the wounds and now it began to slowly shape and form itself like an organic bandage. Luis was not surprised by the healing process. The Reverend was no longer flesh and bone and his body was not ruled by normal human limitations. Without death as an obstacle anything was possible.

He had seen Martin and his family survive the fire and Luis was prepared. He had spotted a rusted toolbox upon entering the room and now he withdrew a pair of pliers. He grabbed them and walked back to the Reverend. He fought his nerves and revulsion and clamped the pliers onto the ridge under the Reverend's chin. He closed his eyes, unsure of what to expect and pulled with all of his strength and might.

For an instant his pulling merely dragged the body towards him. The Reverand let out a high pitched screech as the nail loosened and then ripped out of his chin. The Reverend bolted straight up and a trail of whispy red energy wafted like cigarette smoke from the hole in the Reverend's chin to the nail clenched in Luis's pliers. The nail was no longer really a nail. It had sprouted tendril like roots that swayed slowly to a stop as the red energy receded and dispersed. The Reverend turned his head in one last grasp and their eyes locked. The look on the crushed face was not angry or hateful, but instead calm, kind and peaceful.

"Relief," was all the Reverend said before his body sagged down into a motionless and lifeless pile. Luis stood over it for a moment expecting some ghoulish finale – thankfully it didn’t come. The body curled, as if the bones had shrunk, but other than that it remained motionless on the cold tile floor of the storage room.

He cautiously walked over and poked it. Nothing. He rolled it over and looked sadly at the Reverend's face. His mouth was frozen in the utterance of his last word and a small blob of black gelatinous material oozed from his nose and from under his chin. The smell was awful and Luis backed away and rested against a pile of boxes.

Only then did he remember that Walt lay cowering behind the oil tank. He turned and they made eye contact. The comedian's mouth hung open and his face looked pale.

"You were right," he whispered before the adrenaline and fright made him bend over and vomit.

Luis looked at the nail. The roots had ceased their twitching and they were turning a brittle milky white. He rubbed one of them and it flaked off into little pieces which spiraled onto the floor. He found it mildly interesting and some intuition made him put the nail into his back pocket.

He was exhausted and rested his hands on his knees. That was when the shaking started. His legs felt hollow and insubstantial, unable to support his body and he suddenly became very light headed. Luis reached out and grabbed the wall as the shaking increased. He slumped against the concrete for support. He stared into the crevice behind the oil tank and remembered the comedian. Summoning some energy, he spoke:

"Well, you saw what happened. Do you believe me?" The words faded as exhaustion and stress overcame him and he slumped onto the ground. Walt hesitantly came forward, petrified and wide eyed. Luis couldn't blame him.

"Are you allright?" Walt asked, "You look awfully pale."

"I'm fine, just tired." He tried to get up but his legs would not let him and he sunk back towards the ground.

"He wasn't human was he, he wasn't human?" He was scared yet Luis could see the comedian's eyes had begun to uncloud. He had moved beyond mind shut-down and had begun to process and question the data.

"No, he wasn't." Luis said quietly. "The Reverend had been killed and then resurrected as something else, some other force. There's something malignant in Wellow Falls. A stalker of humanity that is turning into a butcher. It has started in Wellow Falls, and unless it is stopped here, the Reverend is just the beginning in what I fear will follow."

"It’s evil,” the comedian said. “Truly evil.”

"Yes. I'm telling you the truth. If I had time, I would tell you the entire story but you've got to believe me that something horrible is going to happen very soon if I don't finish what I started." Walter nodded.

"Yes, of course. I suppose you'll need some help." Luis smiled for the first time in a while and quickly told the comedian his plan. Meanwhile, in the back of his mind, the beat of redemption began to grow louder and louder.