Kobbe growled out of the side of his mouth: “I’ll yank open the door and you jump in quick. Those guys are about to get outa hand.”
“Kob, do I look like a fool? I’m not going in there.”
“Yay!” “Tell him, prosecutor!” “Sue the bastard!”
Kobbe looked bewildered. He was a product of the prison system, beat-down and confused, tyrannical toward those under him and obsequious toward those above him. Right now he wasn’t sure where I fit into the pecking order. I decided to use his confusion to my advantage.
“Listen, Kob. The sheriff’s dropped his marbles. He fell out of his tree, know what I mean? Where’s the chief deputy?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, where’s the radio dispatcher?” I put the whiplash of authority into my voice. “You know the phone’s dead? What if the governor calls? What if Mr. Kelly calls?”
“Who’s Mister Kelly?”
“Head of the FBI, you idiot!”
“I dunno, Mr. Bagram. I just do what the sheriff says. He comes up and wants a prisoner for interrogation, I let one out. Sheriff takes ’em down to that soundproof room in the basement and interrogates ’em.”
“Then what?”
“Let’s ’em go I reckon. They don’t come back here.”
Let’s ’em go, I thought, into the great courtroom up yonder.
“How many so far?”
“Four.”
“Oh God! Listen, Kob. The sheriffs having head trouble. We’ve seen it coming a long time, but we couldn’t move until it came out into the open. This is it. Since there aren’t any deputies in the building, you’re in charge. Now what are we gonna do?”
Kobbe looked suddenly trapped and frightened. He stared at the sullen faces inside the bullpen and shook his head. “I dunno.” He turned to me. “You tell me. What should we do?”
“First thing is to get that gun away from the sheriff so he doesn’t hurt somebody. You go to that grill and holler that there’s a prisoner hangin.’ himself in one of the cells. When he comes in, a bunch will rush down the corridor. We’ll have two guys hidden behind the door. You two,” I pointed to a pair of husky construction workers who’d probably been hauled in for double parking. “Let ’em out, Kob.”
Kobbe unlocked the door without hesitation. The two men stepped out into the hall and stood blinking at me. The other prisoners stood back from the open door, waiting. The place was so quiet I could hear a faucet drip in one of the cells.
“Now,” I pointed to the largest of the two men. “You land on the Sheriffs back, and your friend will grab his gun hand. Don’t let go, even if you get thrown against the wall. The rest of you wait until I open this door, then rush out and pile on. Smother him. I don’t mean kill him, but get him closed in so he can’t move. Knock him out if you can, but don’t let him use his teeth on you. Kob, you grab his handcuffs and pass them to me. All ready? Okay, Kob. Go to the door and start yelling.”
It was a marvelous plan, and I felt sure it would work. Unfortunately Kob took only one step before the key rattled in the iron door. I heard the sheriff bellow:
“Fred Bagram! Send him out, trusty.”
Kob looked at me, waiting. I weighed the chances of a headlong rush and wondered how many .45 slugs would rip through our flesh before we got him down.
At that moment the overhead light flickered, hummed, and blinked on. The loudspeaker made a loud squawk, and Ann’s voice blared out into the building:
“Sheriff! I’m speaking to you, Sheriff!”
I heard the scrape of shoes outside. The iron door crept open about an inch. I tiptoed forward as Ann’s voice continued:
“...I know you aren’t Sheriff Wade Hoffer, hut who are you? This is the question you must be asking yourself. The answer is that you are nothing. You were given one body on this earth and what you do with it decides your place in eternity. Are you happy?
“The longer you claw in this dungheap the less are your chances to attain a state where there is no hunger, no cold, no loneliness. Your crimes weigh down upon your back like a sackful of rocks. Leave them. Let the flesh fall to the floor. Cast off that cumbersome garment and rise with me into the world of the spirit.
“I will help you. I can show you how. Do you hear me? Don’t gorge yourself any further. The more you eat the more the appetite grows, and you will never find satiety on this earth. Leave the body now, give up the flesh, and rise up to where you belong...”
I looked through the grill and saw the sheriff walking away. He planted his feet wide apart and shuffled as if struggling through deep snow. Had Ann’s pitch worked? I didn’t think so, judging from the snuffling, growling noises which came from Hoffer’s throat.
I pushed the door open and stepped through, motioning the others to wait. I had the idea of sneaking up behind the sheriff while he approached Ann, but a sudden outburst of snarling from the front office made me forget caution. I ran into the room and immediately wished I’d picked up some sort of a heavy weapon.
The sheriff was bending Ann backward over the switchboard, and though her neck tendons swelled with effort, the sheriff doubled her in weight, and she had no chance. I saw his bristly head dip down toward her throat. I leaped on his back, at the same time jerking his gun from the holster and throwing it behind me.
I managed to pull him backwards, and we staggered against the desk. Pain shot out from the base of my spine, numbing me from the waist down. The sheriff heaved his bulky shoulders, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he tossed me over his head. I saw Ann rise from the switchboard with blood oozing from her neck.
“Grab the handcuffs, Ann, in his belt!”
She stumbled forward. I saw her white, rolling eyes and realized she was out of her head and into the killing madness which had seized her twice before. I heard the moaning deep in her throat as she came slowly toward the sheriff, uh-uh-uh-uh... Her teeth flashed as her head came down like a striking cobra’s.
“Aggggg hhhh!”
The sound came from the sheriff, and it was the last sound he made in this world. His body jerked and went limp. I pulled the handcuffs from his belt as he slid to the floor. Ann followed him down, her face hidden by her flowing hair. I heard the steady drumming of the sheriff’s heels on the floor and the sickening slurping sound of a vampire feeding on its kill.
Ann hardly noticed when I pulled her hands behind her and fastened the cuffs.
Epilogue
Five years have passed since those tragic events, and the population of Gubb’s Knob continues to decrease, though not so rapidly as it did in the months right after our “vampire scare.”
I still have my practice. The newspaper folded, so did Sadie’s Beauty Saloon — with no noticeable increase in the ugliness of Gubb’s Knob women. The bank downstairs is open one day a week, though most folks do their banking in the new city out on the Interstate. People wonder why a youngs lawyer stays on in a dying community — but they don’t usually ask me personally. If they did, I’d just say I liked the fishing.
The problem is that it’s hard to move Ann. I’ve got the grid around her room covered with paneling, so that you can’t see the copper wires. I go in and we visit every day. I wear a leather collar which is scarfed with her teeth marks, but those are from the early years, when the alien personality was dominant.
Each time it came out I would electrify the grill inside her walls. I would start my power lathe, my drill, my bench-grinder, power saw and all the other machines. I guess you’d call it pain therapy.