Ring Shout(22)

I start to grab a woman when a set of screams come. We all look up. The second floor. Michael George?

“I’ll go!” I say.

“By yo’self?” Sadie shouts.

But I’m already moving.

Running up the stairs feels like I’m heading into the belly of some fire-breathing dragon. It’s hotter here and the smoke almost blinding. I follow the screams down a corridor to where a Ku Klux is throwing itself against a door. On the other side, the screams come every time it hits. I give a shrill whistle, and the monster swings a six-eyed head my way. Roaring, it comes for me, and I run straight for it, dropping to my knees and letting momentum carry me across the floor to slice through its underside. It passes me, stumbles out of its run, and whips back around, slipping and falling forward on its spilled entrails. At the door, the screams come again. I shout at them to open it and have to cuss before they do. Not Michael George. A trembling man and woman, clothes half off. No need to wonder what they was up to.

“You need to get out!” I tell them.

We have to clear back the barricade they erected—a bed and chifforobe. Soon as I get them into the hall, they see the dying Ku Klux crawling after me in its mess and start hollering. Rolling my eyes, I reach to put my sword through the monster’s skull. That makes them holler more. I’m telling them to do less crying and more moving when there’s the sound of breaking glass followed by a crash. It comes several more times. Then there’s heavy thudding like galloping and—

The doors to one of the rooms splinters open to show three Ku Kluxes fighting their way through the narrow space. More doors bust open, and more Ku Kluxes follow. The damn things climbed up the house and are coming through the top windows! The corridor fills with them, in front and behind. I stop counting at eight. The way they all turn my way, eyes glittering, easy to figure out who they here for. I raise my sword and let it sing.

The next moments are a whirlwind—snapping teeth, claws, and blood, plus two people screaming behind me. It don’t make for pretty fighting. I cut wide arcs, trying best I can to keep the monsters back. But soon as I make space, more crowd in. Can’t keep this up. Between my lungs choking with smoke and the heat of the fire, I’m fading fast. A Ku Klux almost slices me open before I spin to bat it back. I’m starting to wonder if there’s no way out this mess when there’s a shout and the blessed sound of a Winchester loading. Sadie’s at the edge of the stairs, looking like a yella angel in overalls come down to fight in hell. Her face lit fierce by flames as she holds up Winnie like a sword of judgment.

In a blur she shoots down Ku Kluxes not in front of her but behind me! The shots are straight for the head. Dropping two with one bullet. I never seen anything like it. Before you can even count to four, the path behind me is clear.

“Go!” she yells.

I take steps to help her, thinking of the two of us back to back, taking on this whole bunch. But she waves her rifle at me and yells again.

“Stop being hardheaded just this once! Take them and I’ll follow behind!”

Right, then. I take hold of the dazed couple, pushing them on. As we run I hear Sadie shouting, “Listen up, all you white niggers! Just you and me and Winnie now!” A set of angry roars answer, and I glance back to see every last Ku Klux surging toward her in a pack of pale skin, venting their rage. In between the smoke I catch Sadie laughing as they come, working the lever of her Winchester and firing like there’s no tomorrow.

Rifle shots ring in my ears as we reach the back stairway. We run, stumble, almost fall a few times through the thick haze. When we reach the door, we stagger out, gulping night air. I’m bent over hacking my lungs out when Chef runs up. She with a familiar face—Lester. Got a cut on his forehead, but otherwise look well.

“Michael George!” I cough. “You seen him?”

A pained look cross his face. “Them Klans take him!”

I glance up sharp. “How you mean?”

“People tell me the same,” Chef says. “That the Klans was snatching folk. Maybe a half dozen. Packed them into cars and drove off.”

I picture Michael George, fighting as they drag him away. But why would they take him or anyone else? Don’t make sense!

“Sadie,” Lester says, face frantic. “Where’s Sadie?”

I’m set to tell him she right behind me but when I look back, nobody there. And I realize it been a while since I heard a rifle shot. My eyes go to the burning juke joint and my stomach drops. I take off in a run, ignoring Chef’s calls and, taking one big swallow of good air, dive back into the smoke and fire.

Can barely make out anything now, and I trip and bounce off a wall before finding the back stairs. The smoke got my eyes streaming tears and my lungs burning. But I can’t stop. When I reach the top and turn into the corridor I stare at the scene before me.

There’s dead Ku Kluxes everywhere. Most turning to ash, but the fire catches some and the stink of their unnatural flesh scalds my nostrils. I cover my mouth and nose with my cap, blocking out the smoke and stench best I can, clambering over bodies. Must be about a dozen lining the floor—but no Sadie. I shout, not getting an answer, and for a brief moment I imagine she got out some other way. Then at the end of the corridor I spy the woodgrain of a rifle butt. Fear eats up my hope. When I reach, it takes all my strength to push the Ku Klux lying atop the rifle away.