In the last days, it is said that there will come upon the Earth, three days of darkness. Just as God punished the Egyptians, the theory states that God will chastise the world with darkness at the end of times. The Earth will be enveloped in a darkness lasting three days and three nights, the only light source able to be seen will be blessed candles.
Various Catholic visionaries agree that the faithful should stay within their homes during this period as most of the Earth's inhabatins shall die.
"There shall come over the whole earth an intense darkness lasting three days and three nights. Nothing can be seen, and the air will be laden with pestilence which will claim mainly, but not only, the enemies of religion.
It will be impossible to use any man-made lighting during this darkness, except blessed candles. He, who out of curiosity, opens his window to look out, or leaves his home, will fall dead on the spot.
During these three days, people should remain in their homes, pray the Rosary and beg God for mercy. All the enemies of the Church, whether known or unknown, will perish over the whole earth during that universal darkness, with the exception of a few whom God will soon convert. The air shall be infected by demons who will appear under all sorts of hideous forms."
******
J.W. followed far behind the glowing red taillights, until they finally illuminated the darkness as Campbell pressed the brakes. Under the street light, in front of the church, he could see the truck slowly pulling behind the building, and then out of sight. The night appeared dark and still once again.
J.W.parked his own truck about 200 yards away, just off the side of the road. He eased the door closed behind him until he could just barely hear the click of the hinge. He pulled his baseball cap down tight, lifted up the back of his jacket, and shoved a pistol down in his waistband, at the small of his back.
He did not know what he would find. He wasn't sure if Rebecca was still alive or dead. But he did know that whatever the situation was, whatever the outcome, it ended tonight.
The light of the moon bounced off his back as he jogged lightly, hunched over at the waist, like a soldier headed into battle. Gravel softly crunched under the soles of his boots. The only ones aware of his presence were the tall pine trees that lined the roadway, their needles trembling in the breeze.
As he ran, he thought about the day he and Rebecca had been married. The way she smiled and looked into his eyes as they held hands in front of their friends and family. They thought they had figured it all out and life would be easy sailing from that point. He thought about the fights that they had, and things he could have said differently. Finally, he remembered the day she left, telling him that they both knew it had been over for a while. If she was still alive, he thought of how he would tell her that it wasn't over for him, never had been. Not even close. To him, he was still holding her hand and she was still the girl smiling back at him.
Headlights grew softly from around a curve in the road that ran in front of the church. J.W. ducked into the thicket of the woods and squatted still, as to not be seen. The lights grew bright and a random traveller passed and disappeared as the sound of his tires on the road grew silent.
J.W. stepped out of the woods, walking as easily as possible. He crossed the parking lot and quickly put his back against the side of the church, facing away from the cemetary. Reaching around to his back, he pulled the gun from his waistband and held it up vertical to his chest. Patiently, he listened for any noise, any sign of movement.
Sliding around the edge of the building, he could now see Campbell's truck. The engine ticked as it cooled and sat dormant. J.W. held the gun pointed at the truck and walked over to it. There was no one sitting inside. He ran his hand along the top edge of the truck's bed. Near the tailgate, he felt moisture, that when he looked closely at, was bright red blood.
The driver's side window was left rolled down. J.W. reached in through it and felt along where the ignition would be. A set of keys sat jingling between his fingers. Slowly, he pulled them out and placed them in his pocket.
Coming from across the cemetary, the sound of metal scraping against dirt and rocks sifted through the air. A repetitive pattern of the sound continued for minutes. J.W. began walking cautiously toward it.
Small pieces of crime scene tape still hung from the chain link fence, from when the officers ripping it down and leaving behind the haunting memory of crimes. The gate was left open, and J.W. walked through, entering the field of marbel headstones. He stepped around and over place markers, until he could see movement.
The moonlight shone bright enough to see Campbell hunched over in front of his tied victim. J.W. watched as he grabbed her by the arms and legs and dragged her until she lay parallel to the grave he had uncovered.
J.W. held his gun with both hands, his heart raced in his chest. When he got within a few feet of Campbell, he stopped. Campbell was squatted down with one arm across his knee, and the other hand was patting Rebecca across the face lightly.
"Wake up girl. You not gonna sleep through this. You won't learn anything that way."
Rebecca moaned, and then the sound of a gun cocking rattled across the humid air. J.W.'s gun aimed directly at Campbell's head. Today his hands did not tremble, today they were steady. Campbell froze in his place and didn't look back.
"Get up. Stand up you piece of shit."
Slowly, Campbell stood up and put his hand up at chest level as if to mockingly surrender. He turned to see J.W. and he smiled. He nodded toward the gun.
"What, J.W., you gonna shoot the sheriff? Hell son, you have worked for me for eleven years and you ain't fired that thing once. You sure the powder in them bullets is still good?"
"Before you die, I'll give you one chance to tell me why you done it. If you're sick in the head, that's what I'll tell them, but you need to say it. You don't want to go to your grave with people thinkin' you're just a cold hearted bastard."
Campbell laughed.
"Sick? Is that what you think? I been sheriff of this town for longer than you was able to piss standin' up. You know what I've accomplished? Shit.
People are still as wild as they want to be. You can't change 'em. Hell, you can barely control them. I'm tired J.W. I'm tired of not doing anything of meaning."
"And this has meaning?"
"It's a cleansing. These girls were trash. Whores. Nobody gonna miss them for too long. Look at this one. You gave her everything J.W., everything you had. I seen it. And what'd she do? She ran off with the first man who showed her a little attention.
She didn't love you, never did. I'm not the heartless bastard, J.W., she is. Do what needs to be done. Cleanse her."
Tears welled in J.W.'s eyes, he lowered the gun slightly. His breathing quickened. He aimed the gun again. A shot rang out and defeaned him. His ears rang and he dropped the gun to his side.
As he looked down, Rebecca's eyes pleaded with him. He knelt down and brushed her hair back out of her eyes. She began to weep openly.
"I'm so sorry. It's over now. It's over."
J.W. stood back up and walked to the head of the grave. Inside, Campbell lay on his back, sprawled out. A hole had formed in the middle of his forhead and a red trail trickled down his face. J.W. stared at him. All of the admiration he once had was gone. All those years of friendship, dashed. Now just a shell of a man with a bullet hole.
As J.W. stood looking, a shadowy figure appeared behind him. It inched closer, silently. Rebecca's head jerked in the direction as she noticed it. She looked on with eyes of confusion.
Suddenly, her eyes grew wider and she began to scream behind the tape covering her mouth. She thrashed her body around in an attempt to get J.W.'s attention. He looked over to her.
"What is it?"
At that moment a blue light of electricity filled the cemetary. The buzzing and crackling sound grew louder as the hand held tazer made contact with J.W.'s neck. His body convulsed as it held there, smoke rising and the smell of burned skin filled the air.
J.W. dropped to his knees, and before he could fall over unconsious, a foot connected with his back and pushed him into the grave, on top of Campbell. Looking down on the bodies, Morgan smiled. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the napkin she had written on that led J.W. to persue Campbell. It crumpled in her hand as she balled it up tight and then tossed it into the grave beside the two men.
Her hands grabbed the shovel that Campbell had left sticking straight up in the ground. Fresh dirt pounded across the bodies of Campbell and J.W., one shovel full at a time. The moon shone down, as they slowly disappeared from sight and only brown dirt could be seen.
Out of her back pocket, Morgan pulled out a pack of cigarettes and pulled out the next fresh stick. Rebecca watched as the flash of light from the lighter illuminated her face. She screamed in a muffled voice of anger.
Morgan took a long drag and leaned her head back and blew the smoke out in a loud sigh. Beside the grave she picked up J.W.'s pistol from the ground. She turned it back and forth in her hand, inspecting it. She looked toward the highway and began walking. And in one cold, fluid motion, while looking at Rebecca, she pointed the gun at her head while walking past her.
"You shoulda stayed in Texas."
A shot blasted out, and echoed against the pine trees. Rebecca's body fell limp and a pool of blood gathered around her head. Morgan disappeared into the night.
******
A short time later, as Rebecca's body began to cool, there was a disturbance in the soil next to her body. A mound began to form in the fresh dirt. Clumps of red clay began to push aside.
What appeared to be worms at first were five fingers clawing their way through, from beneath. They shook and struggled until the whole hand reached out and touched the night air. And from the surface, another hand reached out and grabbed hold of it.
