Charlie nodded. “Whoever grabbed this burned the flesh right off their palm. That means someone else was in the house all the time. Like his wife. Well, I didn’t have to think about it twice—we got the hell out of there. Fighting one’s a God’s plenty. Two, maybe three—forget it.”

“Just stay out of houses from here on,” Stiles warned. “We’ve got enough to keep us busy until nightfall.” He looked at the sun. “Probably another eight, maybe nine hours. It’s not much.” He turned to Billie. “I’ve got a job for you. Take the boys and Cooper, maybe some of Charlie’s people, out front. Find some lumber—slats, tomato stakes, whatever—and make crosses out of them. Big ones, waist-high or so. We’ll need a cordon to isolate the town after dark. Living people will honor a quarantine sign but dead ones won’t. If we string them across the roads out of town and out into the surrounding fields, we might at least slow them down. But be very careful. The others can help you make the crosses, but you have to put them out yourself. You and you alone.”

She was visibly confused. “Why just me?”

He lifted the crucifix around her neck. “This is why. Faith. You’ve got it. You proved that last night when Larson ran off. Anybody can say they’ve got faith or play at it or even convince themselves of it, but you’re the only one we’re sure of. You put up a cross and they’ll back away. We can’t take the chance with anyone else. Can you handle it?”

She saluted. “Yes, sir. Crosses, coming up.” She sneaked a quick kiss before disappearing back into the apartment. Stiles turned his attention to Bean.

“I like your approach to this. Do you have enough shotguns? How about reloading gear?”

“All taken care of,” nodded the deputy. “We’ve got plenty of hunters around these parts and they know how to reload. We’re leaning toward light loads, just enough to puncture the chest. Anyway, we’ve got three presses so far, and we’ve already got a mess of shotguns. I’m on my way to the office to get some more. I’ll pick you up a couple.” He started down the steps but turned with an errant thought. “Pardon me for asking, but what are you gonna be doing while all of this is going on?”

“Planning a surprise party,” was all Stiles would say. Bean caught an icy gleam in the soldier’s eye and decided not to ask again.

It was nearly 10:30 a.m. The morning was almost gone. Nightfall was not far away.

15

Chapter Fifteen