Full Dark: Full Dark, #4

By Erik Handy

APOCALYPSE NOW!

 

Over 13 years and 13 books . . . it has finally come down to this . . .

 

The end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erik Handy
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224696314

Erik Handy

Erik Handy grew up on a steady diet of professional wrestling, bad horror movies that went straight to video, and comic books. There were also a lot of video games thrown in the mix. He currently absorbs silence and fish tacos.

Book preview

Pulp Gothic

When he was six years old, Nigger Joe ripped the heart from Satan's chest.

Ninety-three years later, Satan returned the favor.

But this story isn't about any of that.

One

I had my evening planned – my ass on my couch, bag of nacho chips at hand, large glass of water to wash the salt down, and three straight hours of Marshall Dillon on the DVR to enjoy. Ben Bailey pounding on my door ruined all that.

I don't usually receive visitors so when I do, I greet them with my VIP-Pro nine-millimeter. They don't stay long.

Bones! I heard Ben yelling. Bones! You home!

His ruckus was embarrassing me. I don't give two shits about what my neighbors think, but I also don't want to be grist for the rumor mill. My neighbors on one side already think I sell drugs. Dealing would be an easier gig than the one I got. That's for sure.

Fuck's sake, Ben, shut up!

I couldn't find my gun on the corner table so I took to turning up the couch cushions.

Hurry up, man! Let me in!

Ben was such a peckerwood, not figuring into any scheme of things. The world wouldn't miss him. Hell, the world wouldn't miss me either, but at least I helped people out of jams. Ben slid under the universe's radar – until tonight.

I found my gun and went to the door. I always check the spyhole.

Bones!

I opened the door a touch and Ben barged the rest of the way in.

The hell, Ben?

Close it! Lock it!

I shut the door, but left it unlocked. Ben had some explaining to do.

He looked down at my gun and seemed more at ease.

Who's after you? I asked him. I had a growing feeling that he might have moved off the universe's radar and onto the field of something worse.

Ain't no who, Bones!

Sometimes I hate my gut. My gut's usually smarter than my brain and always wiser than my cock.

What'd you do, Ben?

Me, Ross Michaels, and T-Ball were out in the woods and conjured a demon.

I clicked the hammer back on my gun as I said, Now why'd the fuck you do that? I've told you that you don't want to mess with evil forces. Where are the others?

The demon got them. Ben rushed to the living room window and peeked through the curtains.

So you ran here? I said. You summoned a demon and led it to my goddamn doorstep?

I didn't know where else to go!

Where were you boys?

Behind the old school.

I know where that is.

Ben started to turn around, but I shot him in the head. I couldn't hear anything for about an hour other than Nigger Joe's voice.

He's dead.

I looked back at the couch. Nigger Joe stood there, hands behind his back. He wasn't there before.

That was the idea, I replied. I don't get off on killing, but killing him severs the link between what he summoned and the real world.

I know that.

I don't need a demon knocking on my door. I looked at the TV. Marshall Dillon was still paused, waiting to bring six-gun justice to old Dodge City.

You ain't got no nerve, boy. I'd wrestle demons just to break a sweat.

Those demons were your ex-wives.

Joe chuckled at that. The warmth in his laugh momentarily took me out of my situation. Bertha was the only angel out of them.

Which one was she?

The skinny one. Joe stepped up beside me. You gonna have to get rid of him. You got a place?

Yeah. I got a place.

I know where all the bodies around here are buried – one of my many talents. Besides, I've dug one or two graves in my life.

I wish you could give me a hand, I said.

Joe shrugged an apology. Burying the dead is for the living.

So why are you here now? Lonely. Want to watch Marshall Dillon?

Hell no I don't want to watch Marshall Dillon. I'm here to warn you. Bad juju is afoot.

All right, Sherlock Joe. Talk while we walk.

I went into the closet and pulled out an old wool blanket I kept for the rare frigid night. It was big enough for poor Ben.

Those boys summoned a doozy, Joe said as I rolled Ben up. Now they didn't know what they called forth. They was just messing around. But a bad boogeyman heard them – gave them boys a helluva scare, I reckon.

So where is it now?

Roaming the nightmares of the living and the dreamscapes of the dead. You'll have to walk the pale road to find it.

Fuck that. I'm no demon hunter. Let it devour sugarplum fairies or whatever the hell you just said. I mind my own business and it'll leave me be.

Nigger Joe was gone, leaving me alone with one heavy corpse to carry.

Two

The place I was taking dead Ben wasn’t too far from my house, but it was far enough out in the boonies for me to avoid the eyes of the law. I’m sure the swamp had seen more than its share of disposed bodies. It was that kind of place and tonight was that kind of night.

I didn’t have much time to think. I wasn’t too worried about my neighbors calling the cops. I had shit on them so they kept to their side of the street. I sure as Hell wasn’t concerned with my conscience being stained with guilt over shooting Ben. I did both of us a favor. What he summoned was going to fuck him up. I granted him mercy. A proper exorcism would have been messier and not guaranteed to free him. Besides I didn’t much like him drawing me into his mess. The universe can go on fucking itself as long as it doesn’t fuck with me.

The pale road.

Nigger Joe said I’d have to walk it in order to find Ben’s demon. Good thing I wasn’t on the hunt.

I was nearing the end of the dirt road when I saw her sitting on the hood of her car, smoking a cigarette. She threw up her hand in a weak attempt to greet me.

Her name was Red and she knew I’d be here.

***

Evening, baby.

I wasn’t her baby, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. All I really wanted was to feed Ben to the gators and get home.

How’s it going? I said.

You tell me. You’re the one about to make a deposit at the boggy bank.

Well, tell me, Red. Am I gonna be able to drag his body to the water without breaking my back because you’re not going to help me?

Ha. She flicked her spent cigarette away and lit another. I need to talk to you so hurry on up. Mosquitoes are biting.

You’re a psychic pain in my ass.

"Long story short, I dumped Ben and jumped up next to Red on the hood of her ‘78 Camaro. I knew how she afforded to keep it sparkling. Although many men and women might have died between her legs, she wasn’t the worst femme fatale I ever knew.

So what is it you wanna talk about? I said.

She took a long drag before speaking.

This is my last vision, she said.

I don’t get chills, but her saying those words coupled with what I just dealt with gave me some serious heebie-jeebies. What do you mean?

"I don’t see anything after this. I saw myself sitting here waiting for your slow ass, you dumping that body, and that’s