“You really think they’d have killed you? The people you worked for?”
“Definitely. Still will, if they ever find out I’m still alive.”
“Which is why you shoved your gun in my face instead of shaking my hand when I showed up.”
Father Billy gave him a grin that was almost charming. “Couldn’t let you die out there. God wouldn’t like that. But I couldn’t chance you being one of them either.”
“Understandable. But how did you know I wasn’t one of them?”
“I could see it in your eyes. It takes a certain kind of person. You don’t accidentally get mixed up in their business.”
Eric had no idea what that meant, but he thought it was something akin to a compliment.
“Anyway,” Father Billy went on. “The gas station attendant told me about the cathedral. He said that it would always reject those who came looking for its secrets.”
“Including me.”
“Including you. It’s happened before. He told me that the cathedral sometimes calls to people in their dreams. They’re drawn to it, compelled to go there or else be driven crazy.”
“That definitely sounds like me.”
“Everyone dies there. That’s all there is to it.”
“So my choice is madness or death?”
Father Billy sighed. “I can’t, in good faith, let you go blindly into that cathedral. But I also can’t stop you and leave you to the insanity of the dream. What I can do is make sure you know what your options really are.”
“I understand.”
“The choice is yours to make.”
Eric nodded.
“But right now, we have to deal with the golem.”
“Right. That thing. What is it, anyway?”
“In Jewish folklore, it’s an animated creature made of inanimate matter. Like if you made a man out of clay and brought him to life, for example. These aren’t the same things. The guy who told me the story gave it the name. I doubt there are any real golems by that exact definition. I don’t think these things have anything to do with Judaism, for starters. And I don’t know what they’re made of. But the basic principle seems to be the same. It’s not a living being, but a creation of some kind, brought to life for the sole purpose of ambushing passers by.”
“Which explains why it can be stopped by breaking its focus,” Eric realized. “Limited intelligence. Limited attention span.”
“Exactly. And that’s the problem we’ve got right now, isn’t it? Finding a way to break its focus before it kills one of us.”
“So far, driving a tractor into one and dropping another off a four-story roof has done the trick. But I’m guessing you don’t have a tractor and I know this church isn’t tall enough.”
Father Billy contemplated this for a moment and then rose decisively to his feet. “I think I might have something that’ll be just about as good. Wait here.” He turned and stalked across the room, leaving Eric to sit and watch after him.
At the far end of the church, he opened a door and disappeared into what might have originally been the church office.
Eric stood up and returned to the homemade peephole in the front door. The box was still there. Wooden, not much larger than a microwave oven, it was easily the most ominous object he’d ever seen in his life. Was there really a monster hiding inside? It was hard to imagine anything so terrifying emerging from such a small package. But then again, the warped dimensions of the wardrobe monster had not been remotely related to the physical size of its home. It had poured out of that wardrobe like a spring-loaded snake from a novelty peanut brittle can, its terrifying bulk filling the cramped bedroom before clawing its way through the hallway and chasing him to the front door.
He recalled the second golem, the resort monster, and its spongy green and black flesh that vaguely resembled tree bark. Maybe they weren’t so different from the golems of Jewish folklore after all. Perhaps the myth had a very real origin.
One never knew.
Looking out at the yard, he realized that he’d forgotten to snap a picture of the corn creeps. That would’ve been a good one to show Karen. He had no idea how he was going to describe that particular oddity.
He glanced back in time to see Father Billy step out of the church office and lean two shotguns against the wall beside the door. He went back inside and returned a moment later with a holstered pistol on his hip, carrying an assault rifle and a small duffel bag.
Apparently, the good father had turned the church office into an armory.
“I thought you said it was safe here at night.”
“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Never know when some dumbass is going to show up with a golem or something.”
“Fair enough.”
“Way I heard it, there was a guy out there somewhere who could make these things. Caused all sorts of trouble. You can probably imagine.”
Eric thought he just about could imagine it. How many hapless people could one of these things kill before someone figured out how to stop it?
“This…‘foggy man’ of yours apparently knows the same trick.”
“Apparently.”
“The problem here isn’t necessarily breaking the golem’s focus. I think I might be able to handle that. It’s that goddamn box. Even if we find an adequate distraction, it’ll just return to wherever it’s tethered. That first one went right back to the wardrobe. The second one…you said it crashed through a door?”
“Yeah. From outside.”
“I’m guessing whatever it was hiding in was sitting just outside the door. Maybe even a box just like that one out there. You would’ve tripped it as soon as you came close enough. And that’s where it returned after you knocked it off the roof.”
Eric considered telling him that the creature fell off the roof of its own accord, but decided it was unimportant.
“It stands to reason, then, that this one will always return to that box. Meaning I’ll be attacked by it every time I go out my fucking door.”
“I’m starting to see why you don’t care much for company.”
Returning to the front doorway, Father Billy placed the assault rifle on the chair next to the one that dropped the three corn creeps. Turning to face Eric, he reached into the duffel bag and withdrew a stick of dynamite and a coil of fuse.
Eric actually took a step back at the sight of the stick. “Do I want to know how much explosives you keep back there?”
“I doubt it.” Father Billy cut a short length from the fuse and fitted it to the stick of dynamite.
“Grenades too expensive?”
“Yes, actually. And they’re harder to acquire without drawing attention to yourself.” He held the prepared stick out for Eric to take. “This is for you.”
“What? No. I don’t know anything about dynamite.”
“You know you don’t want to be right next to it when it goes off, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then you know something about dynamite. In fact, you know more than enough to do the job I’m about to give you. You see, my theory is that if you destroy the container a golem is tethered to, you’ll get rid of it for good.”
“Sounds reasonable,” guessed Eric. “Either that or they’d just be free to go where they please.”
“That’s also a possibility,” Father Billy admitted. “I’m going out there and I’m going to get its attention. Then I’m going to run like fucking hell. You’re going to watch for it to chase me out of sight and then you’re going to light the fuse, run out there and drop this in its box.”
“No way. I don’t want anything to do with that.”
“You’d rather be the bait?”
Father Billy made an excellent point. Reluctantly, Eric took the dynamite.
“Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“Obviously, I’ll be fucked. Now let’s go.”
Father Billy didn’t wait for him to protest further. He slung the duffel bag onto his back, shouldered the assault rifle and picked up the weapon he’d used to greet Eric. He then slid open his homemade peephole and surveyed the yard on the other side. Nothing had changed. The box remained where it was. Neither the foggy man nor the corn creeps had returned. He slid the panel closed and pulled a lighter from his pocket. “Take this. Light the fuse as soon as it comes out of the box. When it’s followed me around the side of the building, run out and drop it into the box. Then run like hell. If I’m right, it’ll either vanish or it’ll return straight to what’s left of the box, so you don’t want to be anywhere near it.”