The thing--the juggernaut--almost looked human, in the same way a child’s crayon drawing might almost
look like a horse. The pieces were there, but the proportions were way
off. It towered an easy seven feet, even with the clear curvature of the
spine that gave it a sideways hunch. The body was inhumanly wide, like
an upright grizzly. The hands, a dark shade of ashy gray, were hairy and
composed of fingers like sausages and nails blackened from blood
ruptures. As it dragged the sledgehammer across the pavement, it moved
with an arrhythmic gait, as if it were still learning to walk on two
legs of different sizes.
Like a chimera from the ancient stories, this creature stalking ever
closer was made up of mismatched parts. The head didn’t come close to
anything remotely human, but its visage is burned into the core of my
memory in a place where no amount of therapy will ever allow me to
forget.
The face, if you can call it that, was coated in black scales and
comprised of an elongated snout that formed the top half of a jaw. The
bottom was equally long, connected at a hinge like that of an alligator,
with ivory hooks growing wildly in every direction from the maw. If the
monster had any eyes, I couldn’t see them.
The lipless orifice hung open, exposing a wet tongue tangled in the
jagged rows. The teeth were overgrown like a cancer, and there was no
way the mouth could ever close without shredding the gums to pieces. I
don’t know how it ate, and I wasn’t keen on finding out. The noise
coming from within was a wheezing gurgle, steady, with each shallow
breath.
For the life of me I can’t figure why, but somebody had gone through
a lot of effort to dress him. On the outside, an extra long black
duster. Beneath, the body was more or less contained within a
long-sleeved blue jumpsuit, and on its feet were a new pair of enormous
black tactical boots.
There was a sort of fog about the creature, and as it came closer I
realized that the humming cloud around its face was actually a thick
swarm of flies. Festering boils on its neck wriggled with maggots, and I
became dizzy just trying to fathom what I was beholding.
This must have been what they thought of when they first invented the word “abomination.”
I kept my Beretta steady, waiting for the thing to charge. With the
way it ran back at the bowling alley and in the cemetery, I likely
wouldn’t have but a split second--if that--to take it down. The gun was
pointed at the widest point on its center of mass--the chest, where I
quickly noticed a cluster of bullet holes already in the jumpsuit,
stained black.
Looks like I hit him already.
Whatever this thing was, my pathetic 9mm wasn’t going to do more
than annoy it. But at this point, running simply wasn’t in the cards.
Yet again, I found myself with the ever-familiar feeling of being a
sitting duck.
Think fast, you’re running out of time. Options?
Run? Hide? No, too late for that.
Shoot it? The thing took four shots to the chest before you launched him off the car. He’s not going down from bullets. Unless…
Head shot? Could work.
Go for the weapon? Shoot his hands? Also valid options. But
even without that hammer, a charge from that thing would be like
getting run over by a truck. I need to slow him down.
Slow him down. That’s the play. I can keep a hammer’s distance, but not if this thing starts moving like he did earlier.
I pointed the gun at his knee and fired six shots in rapid
succession. The cloud of flies exploded off the monster after the first
impact, and the creature stopped.
But it didn’t go down.
It stood still with that expressionless reptilian face.
I waited.
After a tiny eternity, the thing shifted its weight to the good leg
and lifted the wounded one, moving it clumsily forward, then landing. I
held my breath and watched as it tried out the injured limb, then
dragged the metallic weapon forward and moved its other leg. It had just
taken another step, and all those shots had succeeded in doing were
jack and shit. The cloud of flies had returned to the area around the
monster, and I prepared myself to go out swinging.
When he charges, start shooting.
If there’s a reason God decided not to let me die right then and
there, I don’t know what it could be. I’m not a good person. I’ve barely
done anything in my time on this earth to make anybody miss me when I’m
gone. But whatever the reason, this was not going to be the moment I
had to face my maker.
The partial deafness from the gunshots coupled with the situational
blinders kept me from noticing the black vans until they had sped past
me and screeched to a stop. I didn’t see where the smoke grenades came
from, but the parking lot was swallowed in the thick gray in a matter of
seconds. The last thing my eyes were able to pick up was the juggernaut
lifting the weapon over its head.
When the shots started, I hit the ground. By my count, I was dealing
with at least half a dozen fully automatic weapons. I held my breath
and started to crawl away from the fray.
The next thing I remember was waking up on the floor of a moving
vehicle with a splitting pain in my side reminding me of all the shit
I’d put my body through that day. I was on my back when I came to and
sat straight up.
How the hell did I get here?
The van rocked back and forth as we drove. There were no windows
back here, only bench seats against the walls and five heavily armed men
in camo fatigues and tactical gear. In front of me was a sixth man,
only he didn’t have a weapon, or helmet, or any kind of gear. He was
dressed in a tan t-shirt and jeans, and when he saw that I was awake, he
smiled and said, “He’s up. Good. Welcome back.”
“Where am I?”
I instinctively reached for the spot on my side and found nothing
but an empty holster. One of the armed men put a firm hand on my
shoulder. His way of saying, “Take it easy. And no sudden moves.”
“Don’t worry. You’re safe now,” said the man in jeans.
“That’s not what I asked,” I said back. “Who are you people?”
“We’ve been watching you for a while, detective. You’re lucky we showed up when we did.”
This is it. I’m finally getting to see the man behind the curtain.
“Where’s Vanessa?” I demanded.
“Wow,” the guy shot back, “You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?”
“I know enough. I know you’re part of some shady organization with
reach and pull. I know you’re working on something big, and you’re
willing to kill to keep a lid on it. And I know my niece was involved
somehow.” I was showing my hand, but at this point I didn’t even care.
They had me dead to rights, and even if I played dumb, there was no way
they were going to let me off with a warning. “I also know you’re
responsible for what’s been going on in this town. The disappearances,
the phone calls from the dead, the weather. I don’t know how, but I know
you-”
“Let me stop you right there,” he interrupted. “You’re embarrassing
yourself. Because not one part of that was correct. Yeah, there’s
something going on here, but we’re not it. We didn’t take Vanessa. We’ve
been trying for years to find out who--or what--is actually responsible
for all of this.”
“Bullshit. You’re saying that this shithole small town just happens to have two secret paramilitary organizations?”
He laughed. “No, no no no. Definitely more than two.”
The van made a sharp right turn and I started tracking seconds. I
couldn’t be sure how long I was out, or even how they knocked me out to
begin with, but if--if--I made it out of this van alive, I might be able to retrace my steps.
“Let me ask you something, detective. How much time have you spent
at that gas station? I mean, concurrently? Because it looks like you
actually slept there. That place messes with your head, you know. Most
people can’t stand it for more than a couple hours at a time.”
I ignored his question and asked my own, “So if you’re not the ones
that took Vanessa and framed me, then who the hell are you?”
“You can consider us... an interested third party.”
“Yeah,” I replied, echoing Spencer’s words from yesterday, “There sure seem to be a lot of those in this town.”
The man pulled a gun out from beneath his seat and pointed it.
Before I could move, the men on either side of me clamped down their
grips on my shoulders, holding me in place. I looked at the gun and
recognized it as my own Beretta.
“You army?” the man asked. “I knew this guy. He was a ranger in the army. You remind me of him.”
“No, I’m not army.”
The man nodded, then stared at the ground, like he was trying to
decide what to say next. The van made another right turn and I restarted
my count.
“It’s weird that you would be so careful, constantly watching your
rearview, switching up cars, keeping an ear to the ground, and still you
couldn’t find the tracking device they put in your gun. Don’t worry, we
took it out. They have no idea where we are now.”
“They?”
“The ones that actually took your niece.”
I wasn’t buying this story for a second. After everything they had
tried to throw me off the trail, this was just another elaborate set up.
But why? Why not just let that thing kill me and be done with it? Were
they testing me to see what I knew? How much I had figured out?
“For what it’s worth, we’ve been trying to find her. But these guys
are careful. They cover their tracks, avoid every camera, leave no
footprints. Then you came along and they got sloppy, they got
frustrated, and they sent a knight after a pawn. No offense.”
Oh, fuck you.
He continued, “We’ve finally captured one of their tall guys. And
all we had to do was piggyback off their tracking device and follow you
until it decided to show. This is a big deal for us.”
The van turned to the right.
They’re driving in circles.
At this point I knew that there were two possibilities: Either this
guy was telling the truth, or he was lying. And I couldn’t decide which
was worse. But regardless, one thing was clear. I needed to get out of
this van if I wanted to live. Once they were done questioning me, I was
just a loose end.
“Ok,” I said, trying to buy time, “You’re the good guys. You want to
take out the other secret organization. You must know more about them
than me, right?”
“You know about planet X? Scientists have known for years that
there’s another planet out there, because they can see the effects.” Jesus, does every person in this town talk in sermons?
“They don’t know what it looks like or even where it is, but they know
it’s there. This organization we’ve been tracking is huge, but all we
get to see are the gravitational effects.”
“Gravitational effects? Is that what you call an eighteen year old girl vanishing without a trace?”
He kept the gun pointed at me and reached his free hand into his
pocket to pull out a cell phone. As he typed on it one-handed, he spoke,
“They sent one of the tall guys to grab her after she left the gas
station. We tried to catch up to them, we really did. And, to be frank,
we thought she was dead. Until the next day when she showed up for work
like nothing had ever happened. Took us a while to realize that the girl
that came back wasn’t really Vanessa Riggin.”
“So you took her, right? Kidnapped the double agent for questioning. That’s where this story is headed, isn’t it?”
He pressed a button on the phone and held it out to me while a video
played. I instantly recognized the aerial view of Vanessa and Jamie’s
neighborhood at night. The source must have been a drone, but it was
steady and clear.
“This is the night she officially went missing.”
The camera was wide, but I could see the house in focus. I watched
as the front door opened and Vanessa walked calmly to the edge of her
driveway in jeans and a yellow t-shirt. She looked down the road at
something out of frame, and then I saw it. The sheriff’s cruiser pulled
to a stop and she got in the passenger seat. And then, they drove away.
“What is this? What in the ever living fuck is going on in this town?”
“Are you familiar with the theory of ‘Pocket Realities’?”
The steady pop pop pop pop from somewhere in the distance
arrested all of our attention. I instantly recognized it as automatic
weapon fire, maybe a mile or so out, and I could see the moment the same
realization registered on the man’s face. He jumped out of his seat and
grabbed a radio from somewhere in the front of the van and yelled into
it, “Victor, come in! We hear gunfire, is the package secure?”
There was no response from the other end of the radio, but the
gunfire continued. And then, it didn’t. We all held our breath and
waited, until the man yelled at the driver, “Turn around, we need to
help them.”
I wasn’t going to get a better distraction than this. I jumped out
of my seat, wrapped an arm around the man’s neck, and spun him back
towards the other men as a human shield. Before he knew it, I had my
Beretta again, and it was pressed against his head.
“You’re making a mistake. We weren’t going to hurt you.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
I grabbed the handle of the van door, yanked it open, and dove out into the wet grass.
I tried my best to tuck and roll, but I still ripped open my
stitches and bruised both elbows before sliding down the hill towards
the forest. I could hear the van screeching to a stop while I pulled
myself up and ran into the thick cover of the trees.
I spent hours out there in the dark, doing my damnedest to keep
moving no matter what. I couldn’t know if they were following me or not,
but I wasn’t going to take any more chances. Eventually I hit a creek
bed and followed it up stream until I reached an old bridge, then I
collapsed under it and slept until morning.
After those few precious hours of rest, I started following the road
back towards town. I put my thumb out to the first passer by, hoping I
might get lucky, and amazingly it pulled over. The car was a new-model
shiny red firebird, and the driver was an old woman that I knew from my
childhood, Aggie Sistrunk. She didn’t recognize me. She was already old
when I was a kid, and at this point I wonder if she even knows what day
it is. Old Aggie offered me a swig of her “medicine” while she drove me
back into town. I politely declined. Then she asked me where I was
headed, and I gave her the address.
Clyde didn’t get home until around noon, which gave me plenty of
time to raid his pantry, clean up my wounds, and of course, search his
house for clues. I came up empty in that last category, but I had
already assumed that was going to happen. If he were one of them, he wouldn’t be sloppy enough to leave evidence of it in his underwear drawer.
Not that it was really much of an “if” anymore. I saw him in that
video. He was the one driving the car that picked up Vanessa on the
night she went missing. I should have seen it earlier. Of course the
sheriff would have to know what’s going on. An operation this size can’t
fly under law enforcement radar forever.
I wasn’t expecting him to come home until much later, but I was
ready just in case. I surprised him in his kitchen, and let the Beretta
do most of the talking.
“Hey there, Sheriff. Fancy seeing you here.”
He went pale, but he didn’t reach for his gun, or put up a fight. I
was hoping he wouldn’t, but prepared just in case. Fortunately, things
were working out. I took his gun and walked him into the den. There were
no windows in here, no weapons, and the seats were arranged far enough
apart that I could sit across from him without having to worry about him
making a move.
Once his ass was down on the couch, I poured him a glass of his most
expensive scotch and set it on the coffee table in front of him. A
professional courtesy.
I took my seat on the divan across the room and broke the long silence.
“I have to assume you know why I’m here.”
“You’re a lunatic.”
“Maybe. Try harder.”
“We found the body in the trunk of Vanessa’s car. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”
“Pull my other leg and it plays jingle bells.”
What followed was another heavy silence. I could see he wanted to
say something but couldn’t bring himself to do it. That was fine by me.
As long as I was on this side of the gun, I didn’t mind waiting.
Finally, he broke down and grabbed the drink and put the whole glass
back in one go. Then he said, “Well, how much do you know?”
“That’s not how this works, Clyde. You tell me what you know.”
“I had nothing to do with Vanessa’s abduction.”
“Bullshit. You picked her up the night she disappeared.”
“What? No, I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about Vanessa. The
girl I picked up that night wasn’t even-” He caught himself and took a
long, sad breath before continuing. “I had very specific instructions
for what I was supposed to do if this ever happened.”
“Instructions? From who? Tell me who you work for and this will all be over soon.”
He gave me a chilling look that I’ll never forget and said, “Thanks for the drink, detective.”
I should have been smarter.
I’ll never forgive myself for being so careless. For not giving him a
thorough pat down. In the midst of all of my planning it had never even
occurred to me that he might have a second piece. The gun in his ankle
holster was a PS1 single shot. A pocket shotgun. Before I could scream No! he put the gun in his mouth, ate the bullet, and painted the walls of the living room.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
My brain kicked into overdrive. Why would he do that? What do I do now? What’s the play?
I had no answers, but an overwhelming urge to get away from here as soon as possible.
The cell phone in my pocket began to ring. Roger was calling.
Do I answer? Does he know what happened? Can he help?
I let it ring while I weighed the options.
What options? There are no options. You leave this house, make
sure there’s no DNA, no prints. Get the fuck out of dodge or you’ll go
down as a cop killer.
Yeah, my choices were looking pretty limited.
I answered the phone.
“Finally. I was starting to think they got you.”
“Roger, listen to me. I’m in deep shit. Is this line secure?”
“Detective, this might be the only line in the whole town that isn’t
being monitored, but I can guarantee you that it’s just the two of us.”
“I need to tell you two things. The sheriff is dead. I didn’t kill him.”
There was a lull in the conversation so long that I had to wonder if
I’d been disconnected. And then Roger came back on the line with, “Oh.
This is bad. Real bad. Should I assume you are with the late sheriff
right now?”
“You can assume.”
“Then you need to get out of there yesterday, because the chatter on
the radio is all about the shots fired at the sheriff’s house. And that
call came in ten minutes ago.”
Fuck!
I made a break for the front door, but stopped at the window when I
saw the flashing lights outside. I turned and ran to the back door,
pushed it open, and took off towards the fence. But before I made it two
steps I was surrounded. Every deputy was working that day, (actually,
all but one) and there were more guns pointed at me then I could count. I
dropped to my knees, threw up my hands, and closed my eyes, bracing for
the inevitable.
They tackled me hard. Someone pushed his knee against my neck while
they twisted my arms behind my back and put on the metal bracelets. A
team of them dragged me out front and tossed me into the back of a squad
car, and they left me there to cook for an hour. The whole time, the
only thing I could think was “Why am I still alive?”
When they had finally sorted out the crime scene, I was taken to the
sheriff’s station. I did my best to cooperate, but that didn’t stop
them from slamming me into a few walls or taking turns sucker punching
me in the back and kidneys. To them, I was a monster. I was lower than
garbage. And they were taking me to be with the only other person as bad
as me.
The holding room was small, dark, and windowless. Only big enough
for two cells, and those cells were just simple metal cages. They threw
me into the one closer to the door, then locked the cage behind me. Then
they left us alone in there, shutting the door to the holding room and
bolting the lock into place.
I looked at the man standing on the other side of the metal bars.
The man trapped in the other cage. He smiled and laughed at me from his
cot against the wall and said, “You look like shit, Riggin.”
“Yeah, I’ve been better.” I said.
Spencer Middleton stood up and walked over to the bars, leaning
against them as he said, “I think you should know something. This is
only going to get worse.”
I reflexively took a step back. He’d gotten the jump on me once
before, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to stand close enough for him to
grab me through the bars.
“I’m not sure it can get much worse.”
“I’ve been in this cell for a week now. Trust me, it’s going to get worse.” He smiled and scratched the scar on his neck.
“I suppose you don’t feel like taking this opportunity to tell me what the fuck is going on, do you?”
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. They’re going to spin a yarn,
about you. Just like they did about me. They’ll sell some bullshit. The
news will polish the bullshit. The people will eat the bullshit. And
you, eventually you’ll start believing it too. They’re all going to lie
to you, but not me. I’ll never lie to you. You wanna know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I know that the truth is so much worse.” He laughed another
long, self-satisfied laugh and turned to go back to his cot. As he got
comfortable he added, “You and me are gonna have a lot of fun, Riggin.”
I looked at the cot on my side of the cell. It wasn’t much. Not long
enough for me to lay on without my feet and elbow hanging off the
edges, but it was better than the floor. And right now, the idea of
getting some real sleep was sounding pretty damned inviting.
I woke up to the sound of a loud Clang against the bars of
my cell. The man standing on the other side next to the exit was the one
I had left in handcuffs outside of the hardware store the day prior.
The bruise over Franklin’s jaw was already a pronounced deep purple, and
I have to admit I was a little proud of it.
I could see the thing he had used to wake me--a police baton in his
right hand. No doubt this was going to be his turn for a little petty
revenge.
Alright. Let’s get this over with.
“Howdy, deputy.” I said, standing to my feet and immediately
remembering that my body was still beaten and bruised. If it had been an
option, I might have just stayed in that cot until the judge threw the
book at me and they put a needle in my arm.
“It’s time for your one phone call.” Franklin said unemotionally.
He led me down the hall and into another small room, where I was
pretty sure I was about to get another round of beatings, but shockingly
the only thing in there was a small table and a corded telephone which
sat with the receiver off the hook next to it. Franklin locked the door
and nodded at the table.
What’s going on?
I approached the table, anxiously awaiting some sort of trap, but
none came. Once I was certain that Franklin wasn’t going to crack open
my skull with his baton, I reached out, grabbed the telephone receiver,
and put it to my ear.
“Hello?” I said.
The voice on the other end of the line was sad and tired, but
familiar. “Detective, I’m sorry it’s come to this. I’ve tried every
other plan I could think of, but I’m afraid we’re out of choices. We go
nuclear, or we all lose.” It was Roger. “The thing is, well, I’m sure
you’ve already worked it out on your own…”
“I’m not leaving this place alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised I made it this far.”
“You remember our agreement? I’d help you best I could, and in
return I wanted a favor. Well, this is it. I’m calling in my favor. And
prepare yourself, because it’s going to be a doozie.”
Franklin took out his gun and I quickly scanned the room for a
weapon to defend myself with. But then, he surprised me and turned the
gun around and held it out.
He said with a frown, “Make it look good.”
I snatched the gun away from him.
“What is this?” I asked.
Roger answered, “Your deputy friend here owed me a favor. And now… well, you know what to do. Try not to hurt him too bad.”
Franklin closed his eyes and I swung the weapon hard, cracking him
across the face and spurting blood all over the floor where he landed.
“Good,” said Roger. I don’t know how the hell he could see me, but
at this point I didn’t care. “Now listen carefully, detective. Because
this is your turn. I know you know how to use that thing. There’s only
one way this story ends with anything remotely resembling a happy
ending. You have to go into that cell right now and put a bullet in
Spencer Middleton’s head. No half-measures are going to work. You have
to kill him.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“They need him. I’m sure by now you’ve figured this whole thing out.
The invasion? Well Spencer’s the only one who knows where to find the
ingredients they need to build their army.”
“Just tell me one thing. Is Vanessa alive?”
“I’m sorry, Eric.”
I hung the phone up. That was enough.
Am I really going to do this?
What else could I do? Take Franklin’s gun, shoot my way out of the sheriff’s station?
No.
I was done for. The only thing I could do is make my death count for
something. And there was no person on this planet that I could say was
more deserving of a bullet behind the ear than Spencer fucking
Middleton. But was I really going to be the one to literally pull the
trigger?
I took Franklin’s keys, cracked the door and looked out. This was a
straight, empty hallway. On one end, the way out through the station,
full of angry men with guns. On the other, the holding room. My heart
pounded in my ears as I walked alone back to that room and put the key
in the lock.
Spencer was staring right at me when the door opened, like he had been waiting for me.
“Well look at you.” He said, “They turned you into their little bitch, huh?”
“Turn around,” I ordered.
He refused to look away as he said, “Let me tell you something. If you’re going to shoot me, you had better not miss.”
Spencer was expecting this.
I chambered a round into Franklin’s gun and prepared myself to do
what I had to do. Spencer was part of this conspiracy, and his death was
going to fuck over the ones who took Vanessa.
Bang!
What the fuck was that?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Somebody was shooting in the same building as us. I turned and looked back down the hallway.
“Well how about that?” Spencer taunted from behind me. “Looks like you might need to preserve your ammo.”
The gunshots continued. Dozens of them now. Out there, beyond that
hallway, there was a firefight. It exploded in shots and then…
Nothing.
The door at the other end of the hall came crashing off the hinges
along with a large chunk of the wall. The beast was there, holding the
sledgehammer. And this time it wasn’t alone.
Behind it were two more creatures, just as huge and terrifying.
Their bodies all matched. Their clothes, their height, and their
wretched smell. But the heads on the other two were different. One had a
somewhat human face. No hair, no ears, no nose, and no lips. Its skin
chalk white. Its head swollen up to an unnaturally large size. Its eyes
red and bulging. The third one’s head was barely more than a skull
covered in red and pink oozing boils. One eye socket was vacant, the
other held a single bloodshot eye. Its mouth was just a red skeletal
smile.
At their feet lay the bodies of several deputies.
I pointed the gun and fired.
BANG! click click click.
I kept pulling the trigger but-
Son of a bitch!
Franklin had only given me one bullet.
I slammed the door to the holding room shut and scanned the area for
weapons, but of course there was nothing. Without even thinking, I got
inside of the empty cage, closed the door behind me, and locked it.
It didn’t take long for them to break the second door down. The
creatures stepped into the room, their heads nearly touching the ceiling
as they all three piled in and walked right past me to Spencer’s cell.
He approached them with a big smile and said, “What the hell took you so
long?”
They all grabbed the door to Spencer’s cage and pulled. The metal
bent and snapped free at the hinges, and then, suddenly, Spencer
Middleton was free. The creatures stepped back against the wall,
allowing him the space to walk past.
As he left the room, he looked back at me and said, “See ya around.”
I stood in the corner, watching the monsters as they followed him
out the door. They weren’t here for me, and now that they had what they
wanted they were done and gone. I waited there in the cell, staring at
the door until I couldn’t take it anymore and ran to the toilet in the
corner to throw my guts up.
I had failed. Failed hard. And now it was only a matter of time
before somebody found this bloodbath and pinned the whole thing on me.
I still have the keys. I could make a run for it. Grab Jamie,
make a break for New Orleans. Find a good attorney or even slip off the
grid for a while.
There was no chance for justice anymore. I’d lost the war, and now I needed to make a strategic retreat.
I spit the last of the bile into the toilet and pulled the handle,
images of carnage and monsters still fresh in my mind while I tried to
work out the plan. This next part was going to be rough, but I needed to
get through it. Climb past the bodies. Find one with car keys. Take
another car.
“Hey detective?”
I turned around to see that psychopath standing there alone on the other side of the bars.
What? Why did he come back?
My words caught in my throat, but he didn’t seem to mind guiding the
conversation. “Looks like something you ate must not have agreed with
you, huh? Hey, before I go... I wanted to ask you something.”
He extended his hand between the bars, and when I saw what he was holding I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.
“In case you were interested, my offer is still on the table. What do you say? Do you want to know where to find her?”
That fucker had come back with a pair of pliers.
I crossed the tiny cell to where he stood, reached out, and took
them from him. He smiled a wicked smile, and I looked at the tool in my
hands.
Don’t let him see you flinch.
I ran my tongue across my teeth, trying to decide which one I would
miss the least. I settled on one of my top bicuspids and put the pliers
into my mouth.
I can still feel the sensation of the metal touching my tooth. The
way it shot up my nerve into a spot below my sinuses as I pulled and
wiggled it, trying to yank it free while Spencer choked on his own
laughter. When I finally had it detached from my jaw, the blood was
pouring steadily. I spat a mouthful onto the floor and placed my tooth
in Spencer’s outstretched palm. Then I ripped a piece of cloth from my
sleeve and bit down on it to stop the bleeding while Spencer inspected
it like a diamond assessor.
Once he was satisfied, he told me where I would find Vanessa’s body.
I walked into the gas station looking and feeling like shit. A quick
scan of the place told me that there weren’t any customers in there.
Behind the counter, Jack sat typing on his laptop. Toulouse leaned on
the counter next to him, reading a magazine. When they saw me, I heard
Jack say, “Check it out. The detective is still alive.”
Toulouse nodded and said, “Yeah, look at him go. Good for him,” before turning his attention back to the magazine.
My stomach turned and I went straight for the bathroom where I
started dry heaving into the sink. If there had been anything left in my
stomach, I’d have lost it there.
How am I even going to do this?
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and noticed that the man dressed as a cowboy was standing in the corner behind me.
I spun around and screamed at him, “What the fuck?! Who the fuck even are you, man?!”
He was thankfully wearing all of his clothes this time, including a
red bandanna around his neck and a cowboy hat. With a wry smile he held
out a ball-peen hammer and said in a calm voice, “Make good decisions.” I
can’t explain why, but that weird sentence hit me with a sense of calm
and renewed focus. I took the hammer, thanked him, and left the
bathroom.
The wall behind the notice board. That’s where you’ll find her.
Jack and Toulouse didn’t seem nearly surprised enough by what I was
doing, smashing a huge hole into the wall of the gas station with a
hammer. I kept swinging, breaking the hole open wider and wider, and I
didn’t stop until the wall was gone, exposing the dry shriveled corpse
of a young girl inside. From the looks of her, she had been dead for a
long time. Her skin had turned gray and her face was unrecognizable. But
her clothes still looked clean and new. A pair of blue jeans and a
yellow t-shirt.
O’Brien was the first on scene. She wrote up the official report,
which I got a look at a couple weeks later. An “unknown man” came into
the gas station, broke a hole in the wall, and revealed the corpse of a
young missing girl. The body was dried of all blood post-mortem, which
was probably responsible for the accelerated mummification process.
DNA samples and dental records proved conclusively that this was the
body of Vanessa Riggin, but I knew the truth. That wasn’t my niece.
Spencer was always very clever in the way he worded his offer. “I’ll
tell you where you can find the body of a certain girl.” He had been
referring to the double the whole time.
There was a funeral, but neither Jamie nor I bothered going. I moved
some money around and got the kid out of town. I won’t say where he is,
but believe me when I say he’s in a safe place now.
As for my legal troubles, well, they actually went away on their
own. One final departing gift from the ones in charge, maybe? Besides,
it’s hard to arrest somebody for killing the sheriff when the sheriff
isn’t dead. Yeah, I got a message not too long ago from O’Brien. Clyde
showed up to work that next day, and everybody’s decided to pretend he
never gave himself amateur brain surgery. In fact, there’s no record of
anyone dying in that nice little peaceful town the whole time I was
there.
I had almost convinced myself that the entire thing was a
stress-fueled delusion, but yesterday I got a package in the mail at my
office with no return address. The only thing inside was Donnie’s old
brown jacket.
Then last night I got the phone call.
“Hey, Uncle Eric?”
It was a girl’s voice.
“Yeah, this is Eric.”
“Do you know who this is?”
“Vanessa.”
“They, uh. They told me I can talk to you for a second.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know. Some kind of hospital, I think. What is this? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
“There’s a man here who wants to talk to you.”
“No, Vanessa, don’t-”
“Hey detective.” She handed off the phone, and I recognized his voice instantly.
“Spencer. What do you want?”
“Me? I don’t want anything. I just thought I’d let you know that
despite all of my objections, they’re taking really good care of
Vanessa.”
“Please. Is that what you want to hear? You want me to beg? Please don’t hurt her. Just let her go.”
“It’s already too late for that. Even if she went home right now,
there’s no way anyone would ever believe that she was the real one. Even
you, right now, have your doubts don’t you? The line between what’s
real and what isn’t has started to blur so much that there might as well
not be one anymore. And that’s what they want. They want you doubting
your own eyes. They want you to wonder who’s real and who’s been
replaced. Because that’s part of the attack. When you can’t trust the
person next to you, that’s when they’ll know they already won. It’s a
brave new world, detective. And if I ever see you again, I’ll skin you
alive.”
The line went dead.
I’ve tried tracking the number, but even my computer guy has told me it’s a high tech dead end.
It’s been months now since I started looking for my lost niece. And
I’ve used this time to prepare. Next time I go back to that town, I’ll
be ready. I won’t get caught off guard. And when I finally find her,
there’s going to be hell to pay.
Spencer isn’t a complicated guy. I understood his message good and well. It sounded like a warning, but it wasn’t.
It was an invitation.
---
Credits
