Port Hollow

Chapter 1 - The New Religion

CHAPTER 1

“The New Religion”

         He was huddled on the wide sill of his bedroom window where he used to study. Legs pulled up to his chest and arms folded over his knees. It was 5:00 in the afternoon on a quiet, early autumn afternoon. His eyes scanned the view.
         The wide, looping road that swept in front of their house was filled with people.
Dogs and cats and lizards and other house pets too, all gathered. Children of all ages stood beneath and beside their parents.
         Everyone looked up at the house, up at the window where he was sitting. He pushed his hair back from his eyes. It was amazing how fast they heard about things in this town. Even after all these years away the town hadn’t changed a bit.
         He eased his legs off the sill and stood in the shallow light of his bedroom. His hand reached down and unhooked the strap on his holster. His bare feet sunk into the orange crushed pile of the carpeting. Sweat trickled at his temples and beaded on his bare chest.
         Outside the people on the road were getting louder. He could make out some of the things they were saying now. Before it had been just the gentle murmurs of any crowd, but now it had a purpose and it had a limit to its patience.
         He brushed the dust off of his jeans and pulled a cigarette from an open pack on his old chest of drawers. This room used to be bigger, he thought. He felt like he had to duck when he came in. It was hotter than average too, he noticed, as he swept a match against the handle of his pistol and brought it to life.
         With a cloud of concealing smoke around him he left his room and padded down the hallway, then downstairs. Once there he glanced over at his father’s body. It was draped over the back of the family room couch like a winter blanket. He actually looked like he had a purpose. As if he was really waiting until the snows came to help his family stay warm.
         He did have a purpose in his death. But it wasn’t anything so comforting. Rory took one last drag on his cigarette and threw it in the ashtray on the coffee table. He wanted to get this done quickly.
         After checking to see if a round was chambered he holstered his father’s old, standard issue automatic and went to get the body. Rory bent down and shuffled the corpse over onto his shoulder. With the weight fairly balanced he moved to the front door.
         A rock came crashing through one of the front windows. The lace curtains billowed in and the rock tangled them and pulled the whole mess inside. Rory stumbled and fell to one knee.
         “You sons of bitches! I’m coming out!” He shouted.
This crowd was losing it and he wanted to be done with this before they wanted more.
         He stood and made his way to the front door being careful to avoid the glass pieces hiding dully on the Victorian rug beneath his feet.
         “Ow…shit.” A tiny sliver had found his foot and was now firmly in his big toe. He just braced himself and kept going.
         He kicked open the screen door and emerged onto the porch. The crowd had quieted. Rory scanned the faces there on the street. He knew at least half the people assembled. None of them had approached yet, none of them dared come onto the lawn until the body was presented.
         “C’mon Rory,” said Mayor Rickle, “Just bring him on out now. You know your mother would have wanted it this way. She would want you to follow the rules.”
         “Yeah Rory, do it. Bring him out.” Jason Gaugh yelled from the back of the group.
         Rory arched his back, centered his weight and walked down off the porch onto the sidewalk that led to the street. Just then a white police cruiser pulled up into their driveway. The driver’s window slowly came down and a deputy poked his head out and smiled.
         “Just wanted to check up. You know, make sure things is getting on like they should.” Rory didn’t respond. The deputy just kept on smiling. He was obviously going to stay for the show.
         He walked up the sidewalk, kneeled down and laid his father’s body on the brown, dead grass. The long summer had been cruel, in many ways. A swift silent rush of hot air came by and upset his hair making him cock his head to one side so it wouldn’t get in his eyes.
         He thought he saw the crowd collectively lick their lips. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. He brushed his father’s pant leg with one finger, straightening it, as he stood up. Then he turned around and walked back toward the house. There were a few people gathered at the sides of the property as well, watching from a distance. He hoped some of them still had a conscience. Maybe a few were out there that would actually hate what was happening here; possibly one or two of those that watched from their own yards.
         Rory climbed the three steps onto the porch and glanced to his right, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone had come onto his property. His hand went right to his holster and the gun came free.
         He crept along the front of the house, gun out like a nervous security guard on his first day. Suddenly a head appeared above the edge of the porch floor. It was a girl. It was a girl he vaguely recognized.
         It was Ashley.
         He lowered the gun slightly and walked over to the side of the porch.
         “Ashley? What are you doing here…are you here for the…?”
         “No.”
         “Right. I know how this town works. Thanks though.” He aimed his weapon at her head and backed up a couple of steps. His foot was bleeding now and it left a trail as he walked backwards toward the door.
         “You’re bleeding. Let me help you.” She said as she stood up to full height.
         The police officer saw her and he got out of his car.
         “Hey you! Stop!”
         She didn’t stop. She quickly climbed up and over the white porch railing. She ran and almost knocked Rory over. He caught her by the elbow and held her in front of him. The deputy was coming closer and he was drawing his weapon.
         “Help me please. Let me in or he’ll kill me.” She looked into his eyes, searching for some compassion, something of the old friend.
         Rory looked back at the deputy, then at her. He put himself between her and the officer and backed up to the door quickly, went through and shut them both in just as several bullets crashed through the door molding. Splinters and plaster exploded into a cloud of dust on the porch.
         The deputy stopped at the line of hedges at the front of the porch.
         “Bitch!” He yelled at the house
         Rory and Ashley huddled behind the couch in the center of the room. They both were breathing heavily as the adrenalin flowed.
         “He would have killed me,” she finally managed to say, as she caught her breath.
         “Why? You weren’t doing anything wrong.”
         “Well, you had a gun pointed at me too, don’t forget.” She looked pale and on the verge of shock.
         “I didn’t know who you were though,” Rory said as he looked at her closely for the first time in many years. She was as beautiful as he remembered. He figured she’d have left town for bigger and better things long ago. It seemed that she had been caught up in this crazy place just like everyone else. It was harder to leave than he had thought.
         “I heard you were coming back. Everyone was talking about it…about your father. So I figured this would be my chance.”
         “Your chance at what?”
         “My chance to escape. My chance to have a normal life again. I just hoped that you were the same guy that I knew in high school.”
         “What if I wasn’t…?”
         As she was about to answer a roar went up in the crowd. Rory stood up cautiously and walked over to one of the intact windows and looked out. He was totally beyond speech at what he saw.
         The crowd had advanced onto his lawn and they were dismembering and dividing up his father. Knives and picks and forks were flashing in the hot afternoon air. He’d never seen this before. His father had taken care of the business of his wife and Rory’s mother.
Rory turned to Ashley.
         “How long have they been doing this?”
         “For about two years now. Since the food supply grew thin…and since the new religion came.” She lowered her head and picked at her toenails.
         “The new religion? What religion? My father never mentioned it.”
         “He probably never mentioned it because he was a part of it.”
         “No. No. That can’t be. He was a Christian. He wouldn’t allow this kind of thing. He wouldn’t stand up for the townspeople cannibalizing each other on their front lawns.”
         “It’s the thing now. Almost everyone is involved somehow. The Mayor, the police force, the business people…it’s like a cult.”
         “How did you avoid being part of this thing?” Asked Rory, as he walked back and slumped down against the couch.
         “I faked it. I was just waiting to escape. That’s why I was waiting for somebody to help me. I needed a way out and I knew I couldn’t make it alone.”
         A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with the sleeve of her tee shirt.
         “My mother and father joined up right away. Then they convinced my brother too. I had to or else they would have forced me to serve. I’ve heard bad things about the servants, what they make them do. I thought I could help my brother too, thought I could reverse the brain washing, you know?”
         “That sounds like something for the FBI to check out. Have you told them? I mean, they would have to do something. Right?”
         “I don’t know…this town’s always been against outsiders, the government. You know that. We grew up together here remember?” She searched his face again, hoping to see the person that she knew, hoping to see someone as outraged as she was.
         “I’ve spent enough time here already. I’m going.”
         “What, right now?” Ashley asked, staring wide-eyed at him.
         “Fuck yes. I’ll kill anyone that gets in between me and the highway if I have to.”
         “Would you let me look at your foot before you run out of here at least?” She stood up slowly and moved toward him.
         He continued to watch out the window as the crowd began to dissipate. There was nothing left of his father now. Even the bones were gone. A crow lazily swooped down and began pecking the earth where the body once lay.
         “Jesus Christ.” He turned and she was there in front of him, kneeling down. She reached for his foot and picked it up gently into her hands. Studying the wound, she pulled the piece of glass out with her nails and tossed the chip out the window.
         “Aren’t you going to say something?” She asked. “You look like you’re about to swallow your tongue.” Smiling, she stood up.
         “No, I’m fine. Thanks. Wait here while I go get my bag, okay?”
         She nodded and watched him climb the steps, favoring his good foot.
         Rory climbed the steps one at a time. His toe throbbed and still bled slightly. It didn’t matter to him anymore. He wouldn’t be there to clean the carpet or fix the windows or anything. He was going back to the city and this rotten town could fend for itself.
         His leather duffel was on top of his old bed. The room was hotter than the rest and sweat was already streaming down his forehead. He wiped his eyes with an old bandana and tossed it in the bag in case his foot got worse. Just as his hand closed on the zipper to seal the bag, he thought about his father’s other guns. If indeed he had to fight his way out of town, he would be prepared.
         Across the hall was the master bedroom. It still smelled like lilac perfume and moth balls. Nostalgia is pity for your past, Rory thought, as he limped into the wide room. Just get the stuff and get out of here.
         There was no lock on the chest, and as he opened it the smell of gun oil, cordite and copper filled his head. There were a couple handguns, a well cared for .30-06 and a Mossberg pump action 12 gauge.
         “Fuck it.” He grabbed them all. After filling the bandolier full of shotgun ammo, he slung the Mossberg over his shoulder and put the other weapons into his bag.
         As he started down the steps he noticed that it was awfully quiet downstairs. He could almost hear the rivulets of sweat running across his hard, lean chest. When he got to the foot of the steps he turned towards the front door.
         The deputy that had pulled into his driveway earlier had Ashley’s mouth covered and was groping her breasts roughly. She tried to kick at him but he had her hips pinned with his own. She was face first against the wall. Rory didn’t think the cop had heard him yet. He quietly set the bag down on the plank flooring.
         As he rotated the shotgun into firing position a crushing blow hit his left side and he felt all the air rush out of him. The Mossberg clattered across the floor to a rest under the couch. The second deputy was now on top of him. Rory’s vision clouded for a moment and he tried in vain to breathe, but it felt like fire in his lungs. The man on top of him was larger, stronger and had him pinned with his knees on either side of his chest.
         Rory tried to strain and look past the ogre on top of him to see Ashley. She had been turned around and was still being held tight, but they were watching him now. She was going to see me die, he thought.
         “That’s right, city boy, you’re not so tough now.” A wide fist plummeted down at him and caught him in the left cheek, just under his eye. His head snapped back and thudded against the floor. Rory let out a vaguely dog-like whimper as he thought he was going to pass out.
         Another punch came at him and he could barely move out of the way as it glanced off his mouth. He couldn’t take much more of this. Ashley struggled against her captor in vane.
         “Fuck him up Phil,” the first deputy called.
Phil eased back to take in the view of his new prey. Rory lay docilely on the rough wood floor, bleeding from his mouth and nose. His eyes rolled in their sockets, trying to focus on something, anything, to keep him conscious.
         “Hear that dipshit? I’m gonna break your fuckin neck and then you’re gonna be out on the lawn just like your dad.” Phil cracked a wide, toothy grin. His eyes seemed to be glowing from some internal, hellish light. As he drew back a massive, thick knuckled fist to strike a knock out blow, Rory’s fingers grazed a piece of wickedly curved glass that had come from his front windows.
         Before the deputy could strike, Rory focused on the only things he could, Phil’s tree-trunk-like neck and the piece of glass now in his hand. With his last bit of energy Rory swung up at the vulnerable throat before him. The glass scythe ripped into the bright red, taut flesh of Phil’s neck. A bubbly, gasping breath escaped the gaping wound that tore his larynx and major arteries in one slash.
         His cocky smiled turned into a grimace of disbelief as he fell backwards, hands trying to hold his throat closed. Blood sprayed all over the floor and on Rory. The deputies’ uniform was completely soaked in the bright red fluid and his body jerked once as he finally lay still.
         Rory struggled to get up on one elbow. He knew that the other deputy wouldn’t stand there and wait for him to feel better. He already had his service revolver out and Ashley was wrestling with him so he couldn’t get a clean shot at Rory.
         He fumbled for his Colt .45 on the shoulder holster. Meanwhile the deputy was getting out Ashley’s grip. Rory was afraid he would shoot her first then come over and execute him next. He had to hurry.
         Finally the deputy threw Ashley down and swung the long, blue-steel barrel her way. Rory got up on one knee and bellowed out an incomprehensible roar. The deputy turned just in time to raise his weapon to chest height at Rory before the first slug penetrated his left lung. The bullet ripped through him and he lost his wind immediately.
         He sort of sagged backwards, still clutching his gun though. Rory didn’t want to take any chances. His finger squeezed down methodically on the trigger and round after round pierced the ragged, bloody body of the corrupt deputy. He aimed high for the last shot and blew a chunk out of the side of his head. It looked like a bright crimson flower had bloomed inside his ivory skull.
         Rory dropped the smoking Colt and struggled to get to his feet. Ashley looked up finally. She had kept her head down once the shooting had started.
         “My God, are you ok Rory?”
He kept his eyes on her and didn’t answer her question. His look said it all though. When he was halfway across the room darkness started to creep in around the edges of his vision. She was up and at his side in an instant, guiding him to the blood-stained couch.
         “We definitely have to get out of here now,” Ashley said as she laid Rory’s head down on several hand-stitched pillows.
         “We…?” Rory said as he was overcome with nausea and passed out, embracing the black clouds that flowed over his mind.