The Midnight Men and Other Stories by Lee Moan Page B

of blood oozed from a large hole in his chest.
    “What the hell happened?” Wade cried, eyes searching the crowd.
    “It was him,” someone said. “That man!”
    Other voices joined in, crying out in fear and fury.
    Reverend Simmons pushed into the centre of the crowd, raising his hands in an appeal for calm. The shouts died down to a murmur.
    “Jeremiah,” the Reverend said, “do you know who that man is?”
    Wade shook his head.
    “John Vallance.”
    The name stung him like a blade between the ribs. John Vallance faced trial in Pennsylvania a few years back for the rape of nine young girls. He famously taunted the judge to hang him. This was before anyone had ever heard of ‘inheritance’. Vallance escaped from prison two days before his date with the gallows. No one had seen him since. Until now.
    “He’s a monster, Jeremiah. You should have stopped him the moment he-”
    “I know that,” Wade said.
    Louise stepped forward, putting her hand on his arm. “Jeremiah, he’s upstairs right now and he’s got Misty, Hal Gordon’s daughter. God alone knows what he’s doing to her up there.”
    Wade’s heart plunged. “Jesus,” he said.
    “Some of the boys tried to get in,” Reverend Simmons added, “but he barricaded the door. He threatened to shoot the first man who broke through. As you can see, Randy went ahead anyway.”
    Someone appeared with a gas lamp and placed it by Randy’s side. Wade crouched down to him. The light made deep hollows under Randy’s eyes. The friend he had loved so dearly was still there, still breathing. But only just.
    “Jeremiah,” he said. “I tried. I tried to stop him, but . . .”
    Wade gripped his friend’s shoulder. “I know, Randy. You did good.”
    Fear flashed in Randy’s eyes. “Jeremiah,” he said. “If I die, don’t let me become one of his . . .”
    Randy didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to.
    Wade stood up slowly. He knew he had to face the stranger, knew he should have done something the moment the bastard walked down the main street. Not so long ago he would have had no hesitation in bringing the man down with a killing shot, but that was the Jeremiah Wade of old, before the incident at the Parnell house. Now the burden he carried, and the threat of worse, had made him a coward.
    “Hurry,” Louise said.
    He saw the aura of pity in her face, the frown of deep concern.
    “There’s no way out for you is there?” she said.
    She reached up and kissed him then, the kiss forceful and clumsy. It shocked and thrilled him in equal measure. When she broke the embrace, tears glistened on her cheeks.
    “You’re a good man, Jeremiah Wade,” she whispered. “I want you to know that I never stopped loving you. Never.”
    Wade hesitated, wanting to say something, anything, but in the end he realised it was hopeless.
    He backed away from her, out into the middle of the street. He stopped, eyes fixed on the shutters of the second storey saloon window where the screams of a young woman leaked out into the sultry night.
    He still had no plan, no idea how to turn this situation to his advantage. But just as despair began to seep into his heart, the spectre moved closer, and Wade thought it spoke to him. It was less than a whisper, hardly even a breath, but Wade caught three words, his desperate mind snatching them from the air with greedy haste.
    Two closed doors . . .
    Confused, Wade turned and looked at the spectre.
    “I - I don’t know what that means,” he whispered.
    But the featureless shape offered nothing more.
    The girl’s anguished screams filled the night.
    “Vallance!”
    The name echoed around the town like a thunderclap. All eyes turned to Wade, then to the upper floor of the saloon.
    “Vallance!” Wade called again.
    The girl stopped screaming. There was another loud curse and then the shutters flew open. The man stood in the window frame, looking down at the assembled townsfolk. He spat out into the street.
    “So you know who I