A Numbers Game

I've spent time in plenty of small towns, but I've never seen anything like this before. The sign at the edge of the main stretch read "Unincorporated." It might as well said "Unpopulated."

I glanced up and down the only gravel road running through the village. To my left was a tiny hut with a burned-out neon sign which read "City Pub." A fairly large church, as least by today's standards, stood directly across the street from the bar. It was boarded up and a very large chain secured the front door.

Maybe a dozen houses lined the street. Most appeared abandoned, but a few still had cut lawns. One even had a swing set in the backyard.

I wanted to check out the church. That it was boarded up didn't catch me off-guard. I doubt the grand office would have sent me out here if the diocese still had any sort of real influence in the area.

I pulled my motorcycle over to the sidewalk and grabbed my bag. This should be a fairly straightforward job, but you can never be too safe. Locked or not, it could still be a hiding spot. I dropped my bag on the ground and took out the bolt cutters. There was only one way to be sure. "Hey, what are ya doin?"

Cursing myself for being so careless, I turned around to see a middle-aged man wearing a red flannel walking out of the City Pub. "I'm sorry," I said with the most sincere expression I could conjure. "I'm from the diocese and was sent here to make sure that nothing inside St. Michael's has been desecrated. "Eh, dammit. Name's my Earl Samuelson." He approached, holding out his hand. "Why didn't dem bastards tell me you were comin'? I got the keys." "Well, that's a lot easier and a lot quicker than what I had in mind." I shook his hand.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one, which I declined, then he fumbled in his pocket for a set of keys.

"How long has this church been locked up?" "Eh, at least ten years. Surprised you didn't know that." He shrugged then removed the chain from the door. "I go in every week or so and clean off the dust a bit. Ya know, 'nough to make it look lived in."

I waited for him to take two more long drags of his cigarette, before he stomped it out and led me inside. The church was dark. Even at high noon, it was nearly pitch black with the windows boarded up. It didn't have the musty scent of an abandoned building, so he must have been telling the truth making it feel lived in, relatively speaking. I took out my flashlight and turned it on, shining it down the aisle toward the altar.

As soon as my light hit the front of the church, I saw it all. A dark red pentagram covered the altar. The crucifix had been turned upside down. Blood--maybe pig, but possibly human--was sprayed all over the various statues of the saints. I turned around to face Earl Samuelson and was immediately cold clocked. I went down hard; he swung the chain with the padlock still attached to it and it got me good on the side of my face.

The flashlight fell from my hand and rolled away to my right, but landed in a place that still shined enough light on us for me to see his foot coming down to stomp my neck. I rolled out of the way just in time, and then sat up and jumped to my feet. He charged at me, swinging the chain again, but this time I was ready. I blocked with my left forearm, and punched him in the throat with my right hand. He fell back, silently trying to catch his breath.

That was the second time I was caught off guard. There won't be a third.

I squatted down over him. A drop of blood dripped off my cheek onto his. "You think I'd be that easy to take down? You think I'm not trained for this?" He didn't answer; he only glared at me, while holding his throat. "How many are there?" He shook his head. "How many?" I raised my voice. I was losing patience and didn't have time to mess around with this. Finally, he spoke. "They...protect...us."

"They feed on you. How many of them are there?" He shook his head. "Fine." I walked back to the entrance and retrieved my bag. I returned with the ointment necessary for the ritual. After giving him last rites, I slit his throat. There are a lot more of them than us now, but if the Church stops fighting, who will be left to fight? I took the hammer and wooden stake out of the bag. The town was tiny, but I still had a lot of work to do. And I needed to find as many of them as I could before the sun went down.