I Live Among You Page 4

  I lifted the big cat to my shoulder. This could get old fast, I thought. He was heavy.

  An enormous man was emerging from the front of the house. He was wearing baggy jeans and a ratty sweater, and was sweating in the afternoon sun. The hair on his big head was thinning. Other than his size, there was nothing remarkable about him at all. There was nothing overtly obvious or obsequious about everyone’s change in manner, but it was clear that this was the man I needed to convince.

  “Welcome to the Simmons Ranch,” the man said, putting out his hand. He was a good six inches taller than my six feet and looked twice as broad as me. I sensed that most of it wasn’t fat, and his firm handshake only reinforced that impression. “My name is Percy Evans. What can I do for you?”

  “Peter Solara,” I said. “I’ve been hired to look into the disappearance of a girl.”

  Evans didn’t appear to be listening. He was staring appreciatively at Pussifer.

  “Magnificent animal,” he said. “Do you take him on all your jobs?”

  “Oh…Jeremiah? He’s having some hairball issues, and my girlfriend insists we can’t leave him alone. She’s out of town, so it’s up to me. Don’t know what I can do about it, but better to keep the peace. Mind if I set him down?”

  “Does he get along with other cats?” Evans asked. “Because we have a bunch of them around here.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” I said, starting to put him down. Pussifer somehow managed to speak to me without anyone else hearing. I wasn’t sure if he was subvocalizing or speaking directly into my mind.

  “You need me, buster,” the cat growled. “Try this on for size: ‘As you enter the house, greet it. And if the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it.’”

  I repeated the phrase out loud.

  Evans looked surprised. “Matthew 10:12-14. But you needn’t try to impress me, Mr. Solara. We’ve moved beyond that.”

  “Beyond that?” I said.

  “We’ve found a higher god—or gods, as it turns out. Gods who answer our prayers, who give us proof of their existence. If you’d like to witness it, I’ll be glad to show you.”

  “I’m just looking for the girl,” I said, in no hurry to confront the Old Gods again so soon. “Her name is Sherry Martin.”

  He shook his head. “No one here by that name. I would know. But she could be going by a fake name, I suppose, if she is a runaway. We try to check these things, but sometimes things slip by. Do you have a photo?”

  “Nothing recent,” I said. “She and her parents didn’t exactly get along.”

  “Then perhaps she’s better off with us, no?”

  I shrugged, as if to say, Not my decision. I’m just here on a job.

  “We’re having a meeting tonight,” Evans said. “Everyone will be there. Meanwhile, you’re welcome to look around and ask questions. We have nothing to hide.”

  Pussifer was getting heavy. I started to put him on the ground. He resisted, digging his claws into my suit. I unhooked his claws one by one and plopped him, not gently, onto the dusty ground.

  He glared up at me, on the verge of hissing.

  I gave him a mild glance, as if to say, I don’t need your Bible verses, buddy.

  Evans was staring down at the cat curiously, as if he sensed there was something different about the animal. Pussifer stomped off, his tail in the air. He went over to the small barn at the side of the house, where some shabby-looking cats were lounging about the entrance. They scattered when Pussifer approached.

  “Interesting pet,” Evans said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some paperwork to do back at the house. You can’t believe how many regulations a working ranch has to meet. The meeting is in two hours, Mr. Solara. In the auditorium at the base of our new headquarters over there.” He waved toward the dormitory-looking building and turned to leave.

  I wandered around the place. It was basically a working ranch, with about a hundred times more ranch hands than it needed. I’d never seen a ranch so spic and span. Even the manure was picked up almost immediately, the cows and horses and sheep were all fat and well groomed, the rows of corn were straight and long, and the plants were tall and healthy.

  But the ranch couldn’t possibly be paying for this many people to work, so the money had to be coming from somewhere else.

  No one tried to avoid me. I questioned a few of the less busy people, and they insisted they hadn’t had to give up any of their money, or cut off relations with their families, or do anything unpleasant whatsoever. According to them, there was nothing untoward happening at all.

  I didn’t believe a word of it. There is no such thing as paradise on this Earth, and I’d yet to see any utopian commune survive human nature.

  But damned if I could find anything damning.

  The two hours went by quickly. I gave up watching or questioning the workers. All was peaceful and serene. Then I realized something. I hadn’t seen anyone using a cellphone. I looked around and noticed something else: there were no electrical wires anywhere.

  OK, I thought. That is weird.

  I was watching the climbers on Smith Rock, shuddering at the idea of such heights. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something falling.

  I have good eyes, but it was too far away to see clearly. It looked like a climber had fallen half the distance of the cliff he’d been scaling before bouncing back up a few feet and then stopping. At first, it had looked as if he was going to slam into the side of the cliff, but—and here’s where it got strange—the climber had seemed to be pushed away from the rocks.

  No one else seemed to be noticing the drama a few hundred yards away. I hurried to my car and grabbed the binoculars from the glove box. By the time I focused in on the fallen climber, he appeared to have been lowered nearly to the ground, but damned if I could see any ropes. I probably would have simply attributed that to the distance and the lousy binoculars if I hadn’t noticed something big and green wrapped around the climber’s waist.

  I recognized its sickly color.

  I heard a bell clanging, and people started moving toward the auditorium. I had started to follow when Pussifer came running out of nowhere. His tail was completely fluffed out and he had a panicked look in his eyes.

  “It’s a trap, Peter,” he said. “Don’t go.”

  “A trap?” I asked. “For little old me?”

  “They know who you are, idiot. They’ve been preparing this whole time. You go in there and you won’t come out.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “It’s obvious! Have you noticed how nice they’re being?”

  “That’s all you have for evidence?” I asked. “That they’re being nice?

  “It ain’t natural,” Pussifer growled. “Don’t go in there, man. The second the Old Gods see you, you’ll be tentacle meat.”

  “I thought your boss could protect me,” I said.

  “I hate to tell you, pal, but Lictor is a screw-up. He’s the only one of the Legion who believes there is a real danger from these things.”

  “So why do you follow him?”

  “Follow him?” Cats can’t laugh, but his hiss made it clear he was amused. “He’s promised me that he’ll change me back. I heard you talk about how much you hated cats, but believe me, I hate them even more. Don’t blindly follow that demon.”

  “Then why did we bother to come out here at all, Pussifer? We already knew the Old Gods were here, so we’ve gained nothing. We need to know more—when and where the sacrifice will take place, for instance.”

  “Did you ever think it might be tonight?” Pussifer asked. “You go in there and you might never come out.”

  “If what your boss told me is true, I’d only be delaying the inevitable if I don’t go in there. I haven’t yet learned anything that can help us. I have to take the chance.”

  “Go ahead, fool,” Pussifer said. “I’m not going in there with you.”

  “Oh, darn,” I said. “I’ll miss all the hissing you’d do.”

  Pussifer stalked off, his tail down. I turned to the auditorium. I was far less confident than I had let on. I not only had the same vague fears and suspicions as the hellcat, but I’d learned to trust such instincts. I could very well be walking to my doom.

  But you know what? I was curious.

  Apparently more curious than a cat, and you know what they say about that.

  Chapter 6

  I joined the long line of people filing into the auditorium. People were chatting casually among themselves about humdrum things. No religious talk that I could hear. A few of them cast friendly smiles my way. No one tried to love bomb me.

  All the signals seemed normal—or rather, there were no signals of anything wrong. I wondered if it was possible that Lictor’s intelligence reports were wrong about these people. After all, he’d all but admitted that he didn’t have any inside knowledge—which meant that none of these people, including their leader, Evans, were evil enough to commune with the dark side.

  Which was good, right?

  The inside of the auditorium was unfinished, with a bare wood stage and unvarnished benches. Rough concrete floor. Some of the people had brought pillows and blankets to sit on. The nicely fresh smell of recently cut wood filled the air. It all felt so new and hopeful, the opposite of what I had expected.

  The ceremony started without fanfare. Percy Evans stood up, and began talking about the crops and the ongoing progress of the construction, announced a couple of committee meetings, addressed some complaints about the food, and otherwise acted like anything but a cult leader.

  “That’s really all I have to say, folks,” Evans finished up. “Unless anyone has any issues you’d like to bring up?”

  A large older woman with frizzy hair in the front row stoo
d up, and a flicker of irritation came over the leader’s face, which he quickly covered up.

  “Yes, Bea?”

  “I do not wish to be critical,” the woman said. “But I am doing my job, and some others in my group are not. I’m having to do their job as well.”

  “Have you taken this up with McFerren?” Evans asked.

  “More than once,” Bea said, her voice rising. “No one is doing anything…”

  Evans’s calm voice quickly smothered the outburst. “Come to me after dinner, Bea. We’ll iron it out. Anyone else?”

  A young man near the center of the auditorium stood up. A girl sitting next to him was trying to tug him back down into his seat, a pleading look on her face. “Diane didn’t want me to tell you, but I think she may have broken her wrist this afternoon,” he said. “She says it’s just a strain, but…”

  “Well, we can’t have anyone hurting!” Evans exclaimed. He seemed pleased, as if this was what the meeting had really been all about. “Come on up here, Diane.”

  The young woman was obviously reluctant. She squeezed her way across the benches and into the aisle without looking at anyone, looking downward, blushing. She was holding her right arm with her left hand and winced when she accidently brushed up against the shoulder of a big man in the row below.

  Evans had his arms out, and after Diane trudged up the three steps to the stage, he gave her a big hug.

  “Let me see that,” he said, putting out his hand.

  Diane extended her arm. Her wrist, backlit by the stage lights, was obviously swollen.

  “Dear girl, you should have come to me right away,” Evans said. He turned to the audience and raised his arms above his head. “Let us pray.”

  The crowd started chanting something, and it was so strange and unexpected that at first I couldn’t quite understand the words:

  “Dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.

  Awaken from your ancient slumber

  And answer my calling!

  That is not dead which has eternal life;

  With strange time, even death may die.

  Hail Cthulhu. Cthulhu waits.”

  They repeated the strange prayer again and again, and it became hypnotic, soothing. I caught myself whispering the words, joining them. I put my hand to my mouth, covering my lips as if that would still them. I was horrified as the words filled my mind, becoming the whole of the universe.

  A faint green glow formed behind Evans and Diane. The girl was trembling, but Evans had a firm grip on her arm, and he plunged her wrist into the green circle. I saw green tendrils wrap around her arm, and she stiffened as if paralyzed. There was a slight tug, as if whatever creature was behind the tendrils meant to draw her all the way into the greenish glow, but Evans seemed prepared for that and had a firm grip on her other arm.

  Then the light suddenly blinked out, and the girl collapsed. Evans had anticipated that too and caught her, gently laying her down on the stage.

  There was complete silence in the auditorium. No one was moving; no one so much as coughed. All eyes were on Diane.

  She gasped and sat up, her eyes wide, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Evans helped her to her feet, and she turned and raised her arms in triumph. Her wrist was no longer swollen. The ovation and cheering went on for a long time. I stopped clapping and looked around at the enraptured faces.

  For the first time, I felt the full power of this cult.

  Evans led Diane to the steps, and she confidently strode down them and back up the aisle. Her face was shining, and she had a big smile.

  But I couldn’t help but notice the haunted look in her eyes, as if her thoughts and emotions had been driven from her body and all that remained was a strange ecstasy.

  ***

  “Well, what did you think of our little ceremony, Mr. Solara?” Evans asked casually. He had sought me out after the meeting as I was searching for Pussifer. I wanted to get out of that place as soon as possible. We were standing in front of the small barn with chickens strutting around us. Cats were grooming each other in a small pile near the door. There was no sign of my infernal companion.

  “Amazing,” I said, realizing I could be truthful in my reaction. “I can’t believe that you’ve managed to keep all this quiet.”

  “We aren’t trying to keep it quiet, Mr. Solara,” Evans said. “None of this is a secret. We’ve even had reporters sniffing around. But…well, they go back to their bosses to tell them what they’ve witnessed, and the bosses don’t believe them, so they are ordered to squelch the story. The reporters dutifully shut up, because they don’t want a reputation for being flakes.”

  “Just one video showing all of this would change their minds,” I said.

  “I doubt it,” Evans said, shaking his head. “They’d just think it was faked. But it doesn’t matter. More followers are arriving every day. There is no hurry. The Old Gods are coming.”

  I stared at him. It was clear that he thought this was a good thing.

  “You ever read the stories of the Great Old Ones?” I said. “Do you really know what you’re doing?”

  For the first time, Evans looked slightly discomfited. He went over to a barrel near the door, reached in, and grabbed a handful of grain. He leaned down and clucked at one of the chickens, who came bobbing over. The chicken started eating out of his hand.

  “That is all old propaganda,” he said. “The Old Gods have been nothing but kind.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me. I am a serial killer, after all. This was the same foolish naiveté that I had always preyed on. I’d long ago learned that a friendly manner could compensate for a great deal of misbehavior. I’ve watched people choose their friends because they were friendly, not because they were loyal, or trustworthy, or honest.

  Hell, the American electorate chooses its leaders based on whether they’d like to have a beer with them.

  “Evans, you need to be careful,” I said. “How can you be sure your new friends have your best interests at heart?”

  Evans looked away. “I can only judge them by what they do, not what other people say.”

  It seemed to me that I detected a slight doubt in Evans, a misgiving that perhaps even he wasn’t aware of. He probably thought he could shut the whole thing down if it went wrong.

  But I suspected it was way too late for that. This wasn’t going to end with the Old Gods simply going away just because Evans asked them nicely.

  “Have you ever wonder why did they came to you?” I asked. “I mean, why you in particular?”

  Evans stood up straight and looked thoughtful. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I think perhaps because I was lost. My faith in the Christian God was fading…it was becoming something sour and dark. I had only a few followers back then. I was driving around the country, trying to summon the courage to tell my followers of my lost faith, when I came across this ranch. I stood looking at the For Sale sign for what seemed forever.

  “And then the Great Old One came to me, and he spoke into my mind. He didn’t manifest himself much in those days, but the voice was quite clear. If I but promised to listen to him, the money to buy this place would come. I agreed, even though I thought it was a delusion, that I was going crazy.

  “The very next day, I received word that a former follower of mine—one who I thought was completely disillusioned with me—had died and left his entire fortune to me. I bought this ranch as soon as the will was resolved.

  “I waited for the Old God to return, but there was only silence. My few followers abandoned me. Month after month went by, and there was only silence. I began to wonder if it had been a simple coincidence that so soon after I’d heard voices in my head, I’d inherited a fortune. Perhaps I was mad. A rich madman, but mad nevertheless.”

  I spied Pussifer coming around the side of the barn, his head in the air as if he was better than all these lowly barn animals. He saw me and gave me a reproachful look. He looked like he was going to come over, but then he saw Evans, and the infernal creature turned and sauntered away.

  Evans continued his story.

  “I went walking one day on the Smith Rock trails. I wandered off and found myself in unfamiliar territory. At first, I wasn’t worried. I could hear the highway, so I just figured I’d walk that way. But I came to a gorge that was too steep to cross. Darkness was falling, and with it, the temperature was plunging. I still wasn’t worried, but my thoughts were starting to become jumbled, and I found myself walking mere inches from the edge of a steep cliff and realized I was suffering from hypothermia.