Flashback

by Peter Grist

  “Well this is getting’ outta hand,” he rumbled, “and startin’ to irritate me some, so let’s sort this thing out for good, and maybe have a little fun with Mrs fancy-pants librarian at the same time.” He looked towards the owner of the local junkyard Ashley Barrett. “Ash, take someone with you and go to her house, see if she’s there. If she is, bring her back here and wait, the rest of us are going up to the hills.”

  “What if she ain’t there?”

  “Well then get your sorry asses up to the hills with us ya numbnuts, but if she is there, don’t kill her, she is mine” Barrett nodded then herded another guy away from the group and over to his pick-up. The rest of the order looked back at Ryan and Mayor Willets expectantly. Willets was the next to speak.

  “Sheriff, I think we are going to need some spades. Whether or not they have been found, we are surely going to have to move the evidence I’m afraid, and the sooner the better. Any of you fellas got guns I suggest you bring them with you. I know some of you younger members haven’t been to the site before so follow the Sheriff here to the hills. We’ll take the back roads behind town so as not to draw attention to ourselves. We shall dig them up and take them out to the pig farm, those porkers are always looking for a meal. Questions?” Nobody replied but some of the group looked less enthused than others. “Okay then,” he finished, “let’s go!”

  thirty-one

  December 1978

  We wish you a merry Christmas

  We wish you a merry Christmas

  We wish you a merry Christmas

  And a happy new year.

  It was 8 pm on a bitterly cold winter’s evening and the patrol car hidden behind the billboard on the outskirts of the town limits had its engine running and the heater blasting warm air around the car. Snowdrops melted instantly and turned to water the second they hit the windscreen, making crazy patterns as the water ran down the glass. In disgust the sole occupant of the car flicked off the radio, cutting the Christmas carol off in mid-verse. The patrolman used the hand-crank to wind down his window and throw the butt of another cigarette out onto the settling whiteness around him, the fiery red end of the butt sizzled briefly then died as it sank into the snow, joining half a dozen other discarded cigarette ends. His boss hated smoking in the vehicles but who really gave a sweet crap. No way was he getting out of this damn car unless he had to, it was colder than a witch’s tits in a brass bra out there. Bad enough that he had to sit out here in the first goddamn place waiting for local youths to race past in their hot-rods. Who the hell was gonna be out on a filthy night like this anyhow? Even the local teenagers weren’t that stupid. He hadn’t seen another car for nearly forty minutes. Just as he was about to crank the side window back up he heard the unmistakable rumble of an automobile in the distance. He turned his head towards the road and cupped an ear. Yep, he was sure, at last, some action to get the circulation pumping. Just a minute or two later a beige Ford station wagon rumbled passed the billboard, its headlights fighting to see through the flurries of snow and the car’s rear tires kicking up a spray of slush in its wake. The officer looked down at the monitor on the dash and the speed that the wagon was doing came up in red lights as 67 miles per hour. Bingo!

  The officer slammed the gear shifter into first and after an initial spin of the rear wheels the tread finally caught and the 1976 Dodge Monaco patrol car shot forwards from behind its camouflaged hiding place. He was already up into third gear and whistling along at a fair lick before he turned on the car’s regular lights and then the emergency light bar on the roof. Up ahead he saw the rear lights of the station wagon get brighter as the driver touched the brakes. The patrol car quickly caught up with speeding driver and just the quickest blip on the siren made the driver ahead pull over to the side of the road nudging into a two foot high wall of dirty snow and mush. The police car pulled in ten feet behind. As the lawman got out of his car he zipped up his black leather bomber jacket against the cold then unclipped the holster that carried his 38 Special and moved slowly towards the car in front, his right hand hovering over the weapon. He looked down and saw the licence plate said ‘West Virginia’ along the bottom and ‘Wild & Wonderful’ in the blue strip across the top. As the man in the uniform came up to the driver’s door the electric window buzzed down. “Hello officer, did I do something wrong?” The tall man in the police uniform bent down so that he could peer inside the car. He came face to face with a slim, balding man who looked to be in his mid-thirties wrapped up for the winter in a tasteless festive sweater of a reindeer with a shiny red nose. Next to him was seated a young teenage red-headed girl also with poor taste in sweaters and looking incredibly embarrassed and worried. Behind them on the back seat were a pile of already wrapped Christmas gifts.

  “Can I see your driver’s licence please sir?”

  “Yes, yes of course.” The man fumbled behind his seat to the back of his pants and extracted his wallet from a back pocket. “Did I do something wrong officer?” he repeated as he slid the licence out of its cover and passed it out of the window. The officer took the licence and stood to full height, seemingly oblivious to the wind and snow that snapped around him. In the beam of the patrol car’s lights, he could clearly read the details that the occupant was a Mr John Mackenzie from Madison, West Virginia. He held on to the licence and bent back down towards the occupants. “Can I ask you where you are going on such a god awful night like tonight sir?”

  “I am taking my daughter to my ex-wife’s house over in Kenton for the holidays, we should have been there a couple of hours ago but I didn’t check the weather before I left, never realised the snow would be this bad!”

  “So is that why you were speeding sir?”

  “Oh, was I? I am so sorry officer, I was concentrating on staying on the road and forgot to look at the speedo, it must have crept up a bit.”

  “Sir, I clocked you at 67 miles per hour and this is a 55 zone along here.”

  “Oh dear, I really am sorry.” The man looked and sounded truly repentant. The officer looked from the driver over towards the teenager, who was trying to bury her head in the folds of her roll-neck Santa sweater. He stared at them both a while as if pondering what to do with them, then smiled.

  “Okay as it is the season of goodwill sir I am going to let you off of a ticket and let you get on your way.” Mr Mackenzie sighed in relief, “Oh thank you officer, I promise I’ll keep an eye on the …….” The officer put his hand up to stop the driver talking. “But I am still going to have to take a few details for our log back at the station, so if you could join me briefly in my car so we can keep warm and dry?” The lawman stood back to give the driver room.

  “Yes, yes of course, indeed.” He turned to his daughter, “I won’t be a second bunny, stay strapped in.”

  “Okay Pops.” She replied as her dad opened the car door and stepped out onto the roadside.

  “After you sir?” invited the policeman with a wave of his hand towards his cruiser. They both trod carefully back through the slush towards the flashing red and blue lights and as Mr Mackenzie was in front he couldn’t see that the policeman had placed the man’s driving licence in to the pocket of his uniform. As they neared the police cruiser the officer came up closer to Mackenzie and opened the front passenger door for him, with a wave of his wrist he beckoned the man to enter. As the lawman stepped back to allow Mackenzie to enter he stepped in behind the driver just before he got in the car, he got a firm grip of the man’s head with both hands and gave a sharp twist to the neck. The policeman heard the crack as Mackenzie’s neck snapped, his body going instantly limp. The lawman took the weight of the driver and slipped him on to the front seat of the cruiser, tucked his legs in and closed the door behind him. He unhurriedly walked around to the driver’s side and got in behind the wheel. He looked briefly across at the body next to him; John Mackenzie’s eyes were still wide open and showed a look of complete shock. The officer pic
ked up the transmitter for the CB radio that sat next to the police radio and depressed the talk button. “Ash, you there, come in?” then let go of the button. Eight miles away in the office of the local junkyard Ashley Barrett looked up through the fog of his cigar from the sleaze mag his was reading. Back in the patrol car, the driver waited and after a brief second or two of static, a voice replied through the ether. “Yeah, I’m here, what’s up?”

  “I got a car broken down on the 42 about 6 miles from town, need you to come get it right now.”

  “Now?! You kidding me right?!”

  “Yes now! It’s causing an obstruction on the road so get your greasy butt up here and pick it up then crush it, quickly, d’ya understand?!”

  The voice of recognition came back over the airwaves “Oh, I see, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Barrett clicked off, shook on a big winter jacket and headed out to his wrecker truck. Back in the cruiser the officer looked across at his dead passenger and said “Do you know what John? Can I call you John? Well, that guy Barrett, he’s as useful as a one legged man in an arse kickin’ contest, you know what I mean?!” He chuckled to himself as he got back out of the car and walked back to the station wagon and the girl waiting patiently for her father.

  thirty-two

  Josh had been reluctant to leave the pick-up and stay with John’s wife Tabitha but Ed reinforced his promise that he would bring his mom over as soon as possible although it might not be for a few hours yet. Ed made sure Josh was comfortable in John’s house with a hot chocolate drink and Tabitha fussing over the boy. The men then headed straight for the hills as fast as they could.

  The pick-up bumped and lurched as it climbed further into the woods and further from the metalled roads, making the going slower. Everyone on board was well aware that they could be caught up at any moment. They wanted to be followed by the killers but not too soon. Ed directed John past where he and Linda had parked before until they came to a clearing large enough to stop some three hundred yards further on. The group jumped out before John drove deeper into the trees, giving some cover from the track. The group took some branches and leaned them against the truck. They stood back and admired their handy work. If someone were to give a casual glance to the left while walking on the track, the truck could not be seen. It was good enough. Ed lead the way back down the rutted track to where he had first entered the woods. Buster was right behind him, acting like a human bulldozer, clearing the way for the other two. They paused near the stream to catch their breath. Ed looked up at Buster in the moonlight and could see the big man was starting to get agitated the nearer he got to his daughter’s body. Ed put his hand on the giant’s arm.

  “Buster, you going to be okay?” he asked softly.

  “I think so boss, but I be honest with you, I’m right scared. I want to see my baby girl again but…..well, I don’t reckon I wanna see her layin’ in all that dirt you know, I don’t think I can do it.”

  “That’s not a problem my friend, me and guys will take care of what needs to be done won’t we?” he said glancing at the other two.

  “For sure Buster.” Mumbled John.

  “No problem.” Came the reply from George.

  “But remember we got to wait ‘til they make the first move Buster, we are all the witnesses. Them digging proves it was them.”

  “I unnerstan sure enough, I’ll be fine.”

  “Alright then” Ed began, but as he turned back towards the stream he stopped. “Wait!” He paused. “D’ya hear that?

  The small group listened intently.

  George spoke up, “Yep, I heard that, cars, maybe a few of ‘em, getting closer.”

  “Sound travels more at night but I don’t think they are that far off,” said Ed, “we got to get moving, let’s go!”

  They ignored the stepping stones and splashed across the stream hurrying to the clearing.

  Linda heard them long before she saw them. They were making quite a noise as they moved swiftly through the last of the trees. Ed entered the clearing first and purposely guided his group around the edge, away from the burial site in the centre. As the men neared the other side he called out as quietly as possible, “Linda? Linda, where are you?”

  “Shush!” came the reply, “over here.” The guys followed the voice and found the others almost exactly where Ed had sketched on the envelope. The two groups reunited with the fanned out defence getting up and coming together. Linda spoke first in an urgent whisper.

  “Did you find him, did you get Josh?”

  John answered, “Yes ma’am, we sure did, he’s safe and sound back at my place.” Linda threw herself at the group, trying to hug all of them at the same time. “Thank you, thank you so much, all of you. I’ve been so worried, I can’t thank you enough!”

  The group reluctantly untangled themselves from her embrace. Ed spoke to the others in Linda’s group.

  “Things have changed some, for the worse I’m afraid. There’s more than one of them, in fact, it’s nearer a dozen.”

  “Who are they? Do we know them?” asked Linda.

  “I recognised one of course, but not the rest”, replied Ed, “but John and George, you knew most of them, right?”

  “That we did”, said John sadly, “and it ain’t good. We saw Sam from the Motel, Bill from Grogan’s bar, the head guy from the newspaper, Ash from the junkyard, a couple of farmers and…..”

  “And who?” she asked.

  John just shook his head in disbelief.

  “Mayor Willets.” answered George flatly.

  The group that had been in the woods stared at each other blankly. Finally one of them said, “You must be mistaken, Willets, the Mayor, no way!”

  “It was sure enough,” offered John, “it’s some kinda coven or somethin’, wearin’ hoods ‘n gowns like the goddamn Klu Klux Klan. Willets looked to be in charge.” The group fell into silence as the news sunk in; their town was being run by a secret society with a penchant for torture and murder. The sound of distant motors getting closer brought them back to the present.

  “Right!” said Ed, “time to get organized.” He looked towards Linda’s group. “You guys go back to where you were, we’ll take this side. Remember; wait ‘til they start digging before you turn your flashlights on them, and no shooting. I know your feelings about what this bunch of freaks have been doing over the years, but we can’t turn this into a turkey shoot. We get the evidence, catch them if we can, and hand them over to the state police. Got that?”

  In the darkness, the silhouettes nodded or murmured agreement. John was the only one that voiced a question “What if they start shootin’ at us? Son’s a bitches gonna have guns for sure and I ain’t just gonna sit on my ass and let ‘em try and take ma head off!”

  “Then we return fire, which is why we are spread out in this shallow ‘C’ so we can catch them in a crossfire but not shoot ourselves, but try and go for their legs. I want them to be able to stand up in court, but if they have to sit in a wheelchair then that’s okay too I guess. Anything else? Okay, take your positions; I’ll be the closest to them so wait until I shout ‘NOW!”

  The group started to disperse in a wide arc around the clearing but Buster stopped them briefly. “Hold on one secon’, I just wanna thank all you fellas and Miss Linda for doing this, I surely do ‘preciate it.” Engine noises drifted through the hills then abruptly stopped. It seemed their quarry had arrived.

  “Okay, go!” Ed urged, and the group spread out and slipped into the waiting cover of darkness. Linda and Ed squeezed hands then split up. Ed went to the very left of the clearing nearest to where he hoped the killers would emerge from the thick forest of trees. It had taken them at least fifteen minutes to get through the trees the second time, quite a bit longer the first time, so Ed didn’t expect to see anyone appear for at least ten minutes after the last sounds of the engines evaporated up into the night sky
but he lay low, partially hidden behind a rotting tree stump. Reluctantly he leaned on his left elbow and with his right hand drew his pistol from its shoulder holster under his jacket. The metal felt cold against his hand as he gently pulled the breach back to cock the weapon. The last time he had lain like this had been back in Vietnam, the last day that he had ever fired a gun in anger, the day that he had……..

  So long ago but it seemed like only yesterday. The clearing and the fire-fight, the call for air support, the suppressing fire as they waited for the jet plane to run in towards them. His order for orange smoke so the pilot would know their position, the feel of hot air on the back of his neck as the napalm roared through the jungle and clearing, but most of all, the walk through the burning village, mopping up any resistance. The crackle of burning wood and the near constant trill of the crickets the only noises save for the scuff of army boots on dry, charred earth. He could smell that unique cooked aroma of toasted flesh along with the scent of burnt buildings as the stench assaulted his nostrils, the smoke tickling his throat. The movement caught out of the corner of his eye from one of the native pampoo huts and his finger pulling the trigger on his M16, just a short burst, five or six rounds. And then his discovery of the girl, the pain in his own chest as he holds her and watches helplessly as her lifeblood trickles through his hands. He remembers laying her down, closing her beautiful big brown eyes and crossing her arms, then picking up the wooden doll and putting it inside his jacket. The thought of so many lives pointlessly lost threatened to overwhelm him, much like it had done many years ago. His head had slowly lowered and was touching the moss covered earth, his eyes squeezed tight. He had drifted back to the Seventies, travelling back through time down a well-trodden path of his mind, but without the help of the crickets or headaches. He could smell the burning village, even the metallic irony scent of her blood, feel her soft skin. A low moan was just parting his lips when the snap of a twig underfoot brought him straight back to the here and now. His eyes snapped open and his head came up, he was staring at the clearing in the forest in Ohio.