Either way, he was getting even with Count Gaines.
And if that meant getting even with him by killing his parents, so be it.
Scott Bradfield gained control of his arm again. He took a deep breath, then took the steering wheel and crept forward.
A moment later he made a left hand turn down Count Gaines’s street. He ignored the few people who were standing outside, staring up at the military helicopters that were flying overhead toward destinations unknown.
Scott felt a tinge of excitement as he drew to the curb next door to Gaines’s townhouse. Both his parent’s vehicles were in the driveway.
Grinning, Scott turned off the car, reached into the backseat for the chainsaw. He grunted with the effort it took to lift the heavy tool. Another burst of pain exploded through his body, tingling his limbs. He felt woozy again. He fought the feeling, then regained his strength.
He took a deep breath, feeling more in control. Then he opened the driver’s side door and, chainsaw in hand, limped his way to Count Gaines’s house.
Tim Gaines had been standing with his ear practically to the wall of the cell near the door, listening to what was going on outside, when he heard footsteps approach.
Tim stepped back as the door was unlocked.
Officer Clapton stepped inside. He looked worse than he had earlier this morning. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, which were bloodshot. “I just talked to your mother. The author of Back From the Dead called your house today looking for you.”
At first Tim didn’t know what he was talking about, but then he remembered his hastily-written email last night to William Sawyer. “Really? What did she say?”
“What she told me managed to confuse me even more.” Officer Clapton’s eyes looked haunted. “Guy couldn’t believe this could happen.”
“I don’t think any of us did,” Tim said.
“I just got word from a unit of State Police and National Guardsmen that had been dispatched to the Bradfield residence.”
Hearing this news was a shock to Tim’s system. “What happened?”
“When the State Police and National Guard got there the place was empty, but it looked like those things had been there.” Clapton entered the cell and stood near the lone bunk. The door to the cell was open and the conversing voices that had seemed only muted before were now more discernable. “They found several zombies that were…well, dead is the only word I can think of to describe them. They’ve been put down. There were at least four, probably five in the basement in various stages of dismemberment. Our guys came across a few that were still mobile that were roaming around at the rear of the property. They were forced to open fire when they came under attack by these things. One of them was identified as Tom Bradfield.”
“Tom?”
“Yeah. We still don’t know what happened. They’re still investigating the scene now, but so far only Tom Bradfield has been positively identified.”
“What about Scott?”
“Don’t know about him yet. They’re still working at containing the scene. But get this…” Clapton leaned forward against the table. “Two of the bodies they found were old. Officer Slick, from the State Police, tells me they look like they’ve been dead and buried for twenty years or more. The closest cemetery is on the grounds of the Manheim Church of the Brethren, and all of those bodies have been accounted for. Those corpses had headed south, toward Lancaster. Besides, there’s no way they could’ve made it to the Bradfield estate in that time. But get this…your mother told me that William Sawyer told her that in order for this spell to work it would require a dead human body. That if done correctly it probably wouldn’t have worked until they brought the bodies of their victims to the spot and buried them. But the way Gordon did the spell…he must have screwed it up or something, because he actually unwittingly performed another spell, one that was more…liberal in its use of raising the dead.”
“More liberal?”
“Yeah. It had no safeguards built in. But in order for it to work, a dead human body was required. Gordon wouldn’t have known this, but he wasn’t an expert either. Anyway, he did the spell thinking he was performing the one that would have only resurrected his chosen victims, but instead this other spell was set forth. And…the power or spiritual force it let loose did what it was called forth to do. It occupied the body of a dead human being, in this case two of them that just happened to be buried nearby.”
Tim made the connection quickly. “Those old bodies Officer Slick found at the Bradfield place?”
Clapton nodded. “Yeah. I sent a team out to Zuck’s Woods and they just sent back word of a grave that had been dug up. Said it looked like whatever was in there dug its way out, not in. We’re working at getting a forensic team out there now. We should know more shortly. Your mother passed on my cell phone number to William Sawyer; he’s researching this thing now.”
Tim’s mind was racing. “Do my folks know about the bodies found at the Bradfield place?”
“Not yet.” Officer Clapton sighed. He sat down. It looked like the events of the past twenty-four hours and being up for the past two days were taking their toll. “We’ve got the National Guard and troops from Fort Detrick coming in, and they’re doing a bang-up job at making sure these goddamn things stay down once they get up. It’s not like the movies where a shot to the head does it. Its taking total dismemberment.”
“Oh, man!”
Officer Clapton continued, as if he were talking to himself. “We’ve managed to capture a few of them, and some scientists are down from New York. They’re trying to find a way to restrain them so they can be studied. The goddamn news media is having a field day with this. Meanwhile, people are panicking, downtown Lancaster is in chaos, and looky-loos from out of the county are flocking in to watch the freakshow.”
“What about my folks? Are they coming?”
“No. I told them I wanted them to stay home for their own safety.”
“Oh.” Tim frowned. He was hoping his parents would have been here by now to secure his release.
“I do have good news, though,” Officer Clapton said. For the first time there was a hint of promise in his features. “It looks like this spell is losing its power.”
“Really? How so?”
“It hasn’t spread beyond the county, for one thing.” Clapton sighed. “We’ve been maintaining contact with cemeteries and funeral homes throughout the county. Only a handful of them from the general vicinity of the initial breakout have reported this rising from the dead phenomenon. The furthest it’s traveled is maybe five miles outside the perimeter. At the rate it spread this morning, it should have gone well into York and Berks Counties and probably into Maryland by now, but it hasn’t. It’s like it just stopped and then started weakening. Hell, it almost seems like the spell itself is over. Like it’s lost its strength and has ended entirely.”
“Really?” Tim wondered how this was possible.
“Yeah. It’s made it a hell of a lot easier to kill the remaining zombies.”
“So the people that’ve been resurrected…even though the spell itself isn’t spreading, its still powerful enough to animate the dead?”
“That’s what it seems like. It’s like whatever remaining strength the spell has, its being used in animating the dead that were affected late last night and early this morning. It’s lost all its strength in spreading, and it doesn’t seem to be affecting new people.”
“That would take other murders, right?” Tim mused aloud. “I mean…if the zombies were killing the living, they were spreading this spell, or this virus, or whatever it was.” He looked at Officer Clapton. “That would mean something was commanding them to spread itself. But if the zombies are being killed, that’s weakening the spell somewhat so…” Tim frowned. It didn’t make sense that the spell would peter out like that. In Back From the Dead, the only thing that could end the spell was the magician. Tim wracked his brain trying to think of other scenes of black magic from various horror novels he’d read in an attempt at explaining to himself why the spell Gordon conjured could suddenly lose steam. He couldn’t think of anything.