Cemetery Club by J. G. Faherty Read Free Book Online Page A

had taught him to do. Kneeling on the smaller man’s chest, Rory raised his fist. “Say your prayers asshole,” he shouted.
    Before Rory could throw the punch, Pete grabbed his other arm with both hands and pulled it forward towards his mouth. Suddenly off balance, Rory could only watch as Pete bit a chunk of meat from his forearm.
    “Aaah!” Rory screamed and fell to the side, cradling the torn fleshy hole. Pete got to his hands and knees, swallowed the piece of meat and dove forward, this time closing his teeth on the soft skin of Rory’s throat.
    Rory’s cry for help turned into a gurgling, choking sound as the hole in his neck sprayed blood across Pete’s face and the front of the bar.
    Behind the bar, Lester pushed Benny Jurgen’s face into the hot, soapy water of the glass washer. He held the man under until his screams stopped and then pulled him out. Jurgen vomited up beer and dishwater as he fell to the floor, his face red and blistered from the boiling liquid. Under the cash register, Gus howled and held his hands over his ruined eyes. Blood and other liquids painted jagged red and yellow trails through the gray stubble covering his cheeks. Lester ignored him as he delivered a series of violent kicks to Benny’s head.
    Bud Grant, his fighting days more than thirty years behind him, darted around Pete and ran for the door as fast as his arthritic legs would carry him, a single thought buzzing through his beer-addled brain.
    Gotta get away. Gotta get away.
    He was ten feet from the door when Pete tackled him. The last thing he saw was the grimy, black stained wooden floor approaching his eyes.
    Lester picked up Benny Jurgen and placed him on his shoulder, much as he’d done earlier with Aimee’s body. Pete hoisted the unconscious forms of Bud Grant and Chuck Passella and he and Lester carried their loads out of the bar.
    On the jukebox the Rolling Stones song came to end. For several minutes, nothing moved, as if a magical force had turned the tavern into a 3D depiction of death. Then dark, smoky tendrils rose up from the two dead bodies on the floor. The grayish, insubstantial ropes wound themselves together over each corpse, growing vaguely humanoid in shape. As more ethereal matter emerged, the ghostly beings formed themselves into child-sized creatures. Circular mouths and burning red eyes appeared.
    The two apparitions floated towards and passed through the ceiling, leaving the bar empty except for the corpses and Gus Mellonis, who saw nothing as he clutched the remains of his eyeballs and shrieked to the heavens for someone to stop the pain.
     

Chapter 4
     
     
     
    Cory Miles woke up just after ten, according to the digital clock radio next to his surprisingly comfortable king-size bed. The Holiday Inn on Route 9W hadn’t been there the last time he’d been to town; the fact that Rocky Point had grown large enough to even rate a hotel, let alone a four-story Holiday Inn, had surprised him.
    Usually an early riser, Cory had allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in because he’d been up until two in the morning. Every time he’d tried to close his eyes, Todd’s words – I think it’s happening again - came back to haunt him. Cory was pretty sure he knew what it was. If he’d had any doubts, Todd’s mention of the cemetery had put them to rest, hard and painfully. A chorus of police and ambulance sirens just before midnight hadn’t helped either.
    It can’t be happening again. Todd went down there, he ended it. No one died after that day.
    Even after Cory had drifted off to sleep, dreams of strange creatures, black-skinned aliens with egg-shaped heads and glowing red eyes, tormented him through the night and into the morning, leaving him feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all.
    “What I need is coffee, lots of it, followed by a long, hot shower.”
    His plan for the morning was to grab breakfast from the Dunkin’ Donuts next door, read the newspaper and then shower. Then he’d head