by R L Delaney
Confusion began to rule in Dewsbury.
The students who had been exposed to the Desastrotrax lost all respect for their parents, no matter who they were and what their relationship had been with their parents. Sandra Appleby ended up throwing her parents' Bloomingdale dinnerware around, Johnny Delano got into an actual fight with his father, Joey Ashfield called the National Child Abuse Hotline, and even soft-spoken Dick Delaney, who hated conflict situations, refused to talk to his parents.
And Sternfoot was elated.
The Desastrotrax worked even better than he had dared to hope in his wildest dreams, and as soon as the first reports of the rebellion of the younger ones to their parents began to trickle in, he had called for a small meeting with his closest associates at his house.
Principal Rigby was there, and so were Carl Billows and a few others; all well-known businessmen in Dewsbury. Betsy Carrington had been put in charge of serving snacks and the woman constantly refilled their glasses.
"To the Master, and to the world to come," Sternfoot cried out in a loud voice while raising his third glass as a toast in the air. This was a joyful moment.
"To the Master," the others repeated.
After Sternfoot had emptied his glass and put it back on the coffee table, he rubbed his hands in sheer joy while leaning back in his chair.
"The great confusion has started." He folded his hands, and rested them on his belly while glancing around his circle of trustees with a satisfied grin. "Now, we will just wait. We’ll give it a few days, and then we will move on to the next phase."
"Things are looking great indeed," Carl Billows added. "The Desastrotrax has exceeded all our expectations. We will let the students do the work for us, and before long the adults in Dewsbury will be desperate for our help. They will fall into our hands like ripe, tasty fruit."
But Principal Rigby still had a scowl on his face. "Let's not cry victory too soon," he said while he rubbed his leg with a painful expression. "There are still some very unpleasant details that we haven't been able to take care of."
"Nonsense Rigby," Sternfoot replied, not wanting the man to disturb his good mood. "I suppose you are referring to those ridiculous monks… They are nowhere to be seen. You should not be such a pessimist."
Rigby wrinkled his nose. "Not just the monks. What about Prophet? He knows a lot of the details and he's been going around trying to spill the beans on us."
Sternfoot shook his head in disgust. "Come on, Rigby. Prophet is absolutely harmless. He is a coward and a fool. Who is going to believe him anyway? And what is more, Captain Devonshire is on the lookout for him."
"What about Detective Harrison Ames?" Rigby was not satisfied. "It's a small wonder if I will ever be walking again without pain."
"I understand your personal hatred for the man, and we will get him. But what can he do?" Sternfoot sneered. "He's just a man and he will fall, just like the rest of the idiots."
"I don't know," Rigby snapped back, while he curled his lips. "He's still a dark spot in our glorious plan."
Sternfoot held up his glass for Betsy Carrington to fill it up again. "Well…," he said after he had given it some thought, "… if it makes you feel any better, let's put a few sniffer dogs on that detective's trail. I am sure our good friend Devonshire can help us with that."
"Sniffer dogs?" Carl Billows raised his brows. "That's a good idea. I agree with Rigby that we shouldn't take any chances. Let's get that fellow locked away before he does something stupid that causes us more trouble."
"Sure," Sternfoot mumbled as he peered at his friend. "Then, why don't you take care of it, Billows. You've always liked dogs, so I suppose you are the man for the job."
"I'll be glad to," Carl Billows smirked. "Just get me the dogs, and I'll get you Detective Ames."
Sternfoot leaned forward and searched for his mobile phone in the pockets of his inseparable lab coat. Seconds later he talked to the Captain over the phone. When he was done a satisfied smile flashed over his face. "It's done, Carl. He's got only one dog available, but I reckon one dog is more than enough to find that irritating detective. The dog will be here in an hour."
Carl Billows nodded and Principal Rigby seemed especially pleased. "Good… I'll be glad to have a few words with that man myself when he's in jail."
Officer Conan Frost licked his lips and shook his head as he stared at the little brown pouch that Amy handed him. "Why do I need to wear this thing around my neck? What is it?"
"Nothing," Brother Perpetiël answered for Amy. His face carried a serious expression. "It's just a brown pouch filled with cotton, but it will make Sternfoot think you are under their spell."
Frost frowned. "If it is nothing, I don't need it." He stuck his hand under his shirt and pulled out a little medalion. "Look, I am already protected. This is the Lady of Guadeloupe. She's protecting me." As he said it he placed the medal to his lips and kissed it.
Brother Perpetiël gave him a weak smile. "I hate to be so frank, but the dear Lady of Guadeloupe will not be able to keep you from the poisonous influence of the Desastrotrax."
Frost narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand."
"I know it's a bit overwhelming," Brother Perpetiël said while he pressed his lips together. "To hear this town is on the verge of being taken over by a strange hooded sect, and that your beloved Captain Devonshire is already firmly in their evil grip, is a hard pill to swallow."
Frost nodded. "That's putting it mildly."
They had been talking with Officer Conan Frost for about an hour while Father Gálvez had supplied them with the necessary cups of coffee and tea. After Frost had come with them to Father Gálvez' house, Amy, Justin and Brother Perpetiël had done their best to explain to the baffled policeman what was happening.
They told him about Sternfoot and the meeting at Dewsbury High, they told him about the horrible influence of the Desastrotrax and they mentioned the murder of Alvaro Ironbark. They reminded him of the terrifying transformation that had come over Alfred Rodeo and how the man had changed into a meek little lamb, after having been rebuked by Brother Perpetiël… but still the man had a hard time believing.
Finally Father Gálvez had walked over to his bookcase and pulled out 'Secret Societies and Their Secrets,' the book he had also used earlier to explain to Justin and Amy who the Shadow Walkers were.
"Read this," the priest told Frost, as he pointed to a passage somewhere in the middle of the book after he had placed the open book before the police officer.
As the man read the passage, his face became pale and he kept on saying, "Dear Mother of God. Have mercy on us."
When he was done he crossed himself and leaned back in his chair. "And… these folks are now active in our town?"
Justin nodded. "I am afraid so, Mr. Frost. They are ruthless and will not hesitate to kill if necessary. We need to stop them."
"And you can help us," Father Gálvez added.
"H-How? What can I do?"
"You can return to your job," Brother Perpetiël added. "You keep an eye on what they tell Captain Devonshire to do. You can be our spy."
Conan Frost scratched his head. "But if even our Captain is under their influence, what can I do? If that Desastrotrax is as powerful as you say it is, I will fall for it as well."
A gentle smile appeared on Father Gálvez' face. "That's why you need the little brown pouch."
Frost wrinkled his nose. "The pouch with nothing?"
"That's the one," Amy replied. "To get their victims under their evil spell they use their Desastrotrax. The formula Sternfoot has produced is straight from the Netherworld. It messes with your brain and opens you up to the dark side so that you become nothing but a tool for the evil spirits who seek entrance in this physical world. And they accomplish that by exposing their victims to the chemicals."
"But a onetime exposure is not enough," Father Gálvez added. "To keep you under their spell you need a daily dose, which is why they give their victims a little brown pouch to han
g around their necks. However, Sternfoot's little brown pouch is doused with Desastrotrax, so that you will remain under the influence of their spell at all times."
Amy showed Frost the brown pouch again. "But our pouch is harmless. It looks just like the ones Sternfoot gives out. If they see you have one, they won't give you one of theirs. They won't suspect anything and you are kept safe."
Officer Frost licked his lips as he stared at the pouch. Then he shook his head and mumbled, "I don't know. This is dangerous business."
"It is," Brother Perpetiël said. "But… if you rather fall for the Shadow Walkers, I completely understand."
"Think of my parents," Justin said in a pleading voice. "Please help. I am so worried about them. At least you can tell them I am safe. You can find out where they are…"
Frost looked up, a decisive expression on his face. "Let's do it!" He snatched the brown pouch out of Amy's hands and hung it around his neck, clearly visible for all.
"There's one more thing," Justin asked.
"What?"
"If I give you the key to my parents' house, could you find a way to go there and bring me my dog? Since my parents are in jail, nobody is taking care of him."
Frost let out a sigh. "Nothing ever happened in Dewsbury… what has happened to our town?"
Chapter Seven
"I think tomorrow you should go with me," Prophet said as he glanced at Harrison. "You've been staying at my humble abode several days already, and it is time you make yourself useful."
Harrison raised his brows. "Pardon me?"
"Two are better than one," Prophet explained. "I want to go out again to give out the warning message. You need to come with me. Together we can be twice as loud and reach twice as many people."
"Go out… with you?" Harrison glared at Prophet. "And shout out those crazy slogans?"
Prophet raised his brows. "Sure. What's wrong with that? Haven't you ever heard the saying 'walk the talk'?" He narrowed his eyes as he peered at Harrison. "I thought you hated these Shadow Walkers as much as I did."
"I do," Harrison bit his lower lip and swallowed hard. He knew he should have left this crazy place the very moment he had found it. He hated Prophet's rusty camper, and although he certainly did not hate Prophet, the man would have been the last one to be included in Harrison's personal circle of friends. Everything about this place and about Prophet was upsetting. The smell, the dirt, the confusion, and not in the least Prophet's weird interaction with the rabbits.
Of course, it did appear Prophet actually did communicate with those rabbits. But that didn't make it normal. Staying here was just weird and although it wasn't Prophet's fault, he was completely crazy.
The chemicals that Sternfoot had tried out on him had effectively robbed him of his sanity. At least here, in this musty camper, he had been safe from Sternfoot and Captain Devonshire and he should be thankful for the mattress that Prophet had dumped for him on the floor of the camper.
But going out with him and act as if he was a lunatic too was beyond weird. That just wasn't going to happen.
Prophet didn't seem to notice Harrison's reluctance. "I've got just the right outfit for you," he said in a cheerful voice. He got up and lifted the cushions on the seat on which he had been sitting. A small storage space appeared and after he had searched it for a few moments, he pulled out another one of those stained white robes that Harrison hated so much. A bright smile appeared as he showed it to the detective. "Here… ," he said. "This is my extra robe. I usually only wear it on Sundays. I think it will fit you just about perfectly."
Harrison's face darkened and he gritted his teeth. "I will not wear—"
He could not finish his sentence, as an unexpected, loud howl right outside Prophet's camper, interrupted Harrison's words.
It was an infuriating sound, something in between a guttural cry and the shriek of a wild pig about to be slaughtered. Harrison looked up in alarm as the noise grated his nerves.
"W-What is that?" He stared at Prophet.
For a moment the man seemed petrified, but then he jumped up and began to shout, "Attack. We are under attack. It's the alarm… The alarm has gone off."
"The alarm? Who is attacking?" Harrison licked his lips and jumped up as well. But there were other noises as well. A yelping animal… the loud curse of a man… What was going on?
Prophet dove onto the floor of his mobile home, and disappeared partly under the fold-up table. Only his legs were visible, but soon his whole body reappeared, and he was clutching a battered baseball bat.
"This is my secret weapon," he mumbled as he showed Harrison the bat with a victorious grin. "It has come to that… We need to fight. The evil one has arrived."
"W-What do you mean?" Harrison's eyes widened.
But Prophet did not answer, crawled back up from the floor and threw open the door of his camper. "Just as I thought," he shouted back to Harrison as he glanced outside. "We've got a visitor." Then he jumped out and disappeared from sight.
The deafening, blaring sound continued to assault Harrison's ears and crippled his thoughts. Not knowing what else to do, the detective pressed his nose against the grimy window to see if he could figure out what was happening. It appeared that a man was lying on the ground. Motionless, stiff and in an unnatural position. Was that man dead?
The trap. Somebody has fallen into Prophet's trap.
Now Harrison understood.
A man had stepped onto one of Prophet's many traps and was knocked to the ground, paralyzed, at least for the moment. Prophet had said that if somebody walked up to the camper and stepped on one of the booby traps, a warning sound would go off, and a chemical would be released that would knock the intruder out.
Somebody had tried to approach Prophet’s home.
Harrison turned and ran for the door too. Were the Shadow Walkers on their trail?
Seconds later he stood outside and stared at the scene before him. The man there, lying on the ground… seemed vaguely familiar. He bowed his head and narrowed his eyes to get a better look… His heart skipped a beat.
There, on the ground, lay Carl Billows. A bit of foam had formed around his mouth and he appeared to be completely knocked out. Before him, just as motionless, a German shepherd dog lay sprawled out on the ground, his snout in the mud. The dog's tongue hung out and touched the muddy ground. Harrison had seen that dog before, and mumbled, "That's Wilson. He's the meanest police dog on the block."
Billows was still holding Wilson's leash in his stiff left hand.
They were no longer safe here. They had been found out.
At that moment, and to Harrison's relief, the terrible, grating noise of the alarm stopped. Prophet had snapped a wire and the silence of the forest returned.
Prophet was elated. "We got him, we got him," he shouted in jubilation. "The enemy has fallen. His defeat is nigh."
Harrison frowned. He did not want to dampen Prophet's enthusiasm, but Carl Billows was only one of many. And what were they going to do with a captive Shadow Walker? He rather stay a thousand miles away from such fellows.
Prophet sensed Harrison's skepticism. "Come on, Harry. It's the small steps that make a great victory. This is reason to rejoice."
"Sure," Harrison replied, without enthusiasm. "What are we going to do with him?"
"We tie him up," Prophet said.
"And what about Wilson? We can't very well tie up a dog."
"Never mind the dog," Prophet replied. "I will talk some sense into the animal."
Harrison chuckled. Clearly, Prophet had not met Wilson yet. That dog was about as mean as Grandmother Ames, and thus a conversation between Prophet and that hairy monster on four legs could prove to be a most interesting performance. But, he had warned Prophet, so it was the man's own responsibility. On the other hand, maybe Prophet should be protected against himself. The man seemed cock sure he could talk to all the animals. Utterly ridiculous and even dangerous.
However, tying up Carl Billows seemed a good idea
. Although… Harrison remembered the enormous force he had witnessed in Alfred Rodeo, and how the man had bent the bars of his prison cell. Was a mere rope going to be sufficient to keep this evil man under control?
He turned to Prophet. "Could you keep the warning system off for just a minute, so I can walk over to Billows and tie him up?"
Prophet nodded.
"How long will it be before Billows and Wilson come back to the land of the living?"
Prophet curled his lips. "I am not entirely sure. Never got anybody caught before, but I reckon you have about an hour."
"That's plenty of time," Harrison said, as he looked around for a good place to securely tie up Carl Billows. "I will tie him to the hitch of your camper."
Prophet's face darkened. "But… that's where I feed the rabbits their carrots."
"It's the best spot," Harrison said while he shrugged his shoulders. A boyish grin appeared. "Maybe you can teach the rabbits how you deal with Shadow Walkers."
Prophet frowned. "Do you think they need to know that?"
"Of course, Prophet. Everybody should know."
"I guess you are right," Prophet mumbled as he thought about what Harrison had said. Then, a worried expression appeared on his face and he looked at Harrison with sad, droopy eyes. "Now that we have a prisoner, I suppose you can't go with me on my mission tomorrow."
"That's right," Harrison said as a sense of gratitude welled up. "That would be most unwise."
Even though Brother Perpetiël had been very clear about the need to go slow, and to stay in touch with the nudges of the Elixir, waiting was hard for Justin.
For the next few days, at least in Justin's opinion, they did nothing. Nothing at all.
"We must wait and see, Justin," Brother Perpetiël had told him after Officer Frost had left the house. And that was already over two days ago.
"Let the weeds grow up… let the fruit ripen. Then, and only then, can we effectively deal with the problem," Brother Perpetiël had suggested, and although Justin knew the monk was right, he remained restless and worried. His parents were in the hands of the Shadow Walkers, and only God knew how they were doing. And what about Uncle Harry, and why was Officer Frost not coming back with Balthazar?