by Simon King
“What what means?” Tim asked, feeling uncomfortable. Mumma pointed to one of the screens, then pulled a remote from her pocket. She pressed something and the screen flicked on, two lists forming side-by-side, one line at a time.
Sam recognized the names immediately. They were the names of all the bodies they had come across during this investigation.
“The victims, yes,” Tim said. Mumma waited for the names to finish revealing themselves, looked at Sam as if asking for help, then pointed the remote at the screen again. The first letters of each of the names grew bolder as the rest of the letters faded slightly.
It took a few seconds for the revelation to sink in, but when it did, the shock hit hard. Tim stood as he stared at the screen, his face losing all color. He looked as if he might vomit and Sam reached for his arm.
Evelyn’s name stared back at them, the two missing men’s first initials making up the final two letters. On the second list, most of the former agent’s surname sat. Sam stared in shock at the clue they had missed.
“Tim, I don’t know what…” John began, but Tim didn’t hear him, taking another step forward. He finally dropped to one knee, Sam rushing to hold him up. John stepped forward and supported Tim, then helped him back to the couch.
“This whole thing has been about us all along,” Tim finally said, falling back onto the couch.
“It appears so,” John said.
“But who?” Sam offered, sitting beside her partner.
“That’s a good question,” John said, looking at Mumma.
“It’s him,” Tim suddenly whispered. John looked at him surprised.
“Who?” He asked.
“Red.”
“No,” John replied sharply. “Don’t do this to yourself. We both know Red is dead. He died, along with everyone else that day.” Tim looked at John, shaking his head.
“It’s him, I know it. That’s how he’s been ahead of us this entire time.”
“And now he has an earpiece. With a bit of manipulation, he could listen in to everything we discuss,” Mumma added.
“I doubt that’s going to make much difference. My guess is he’s been preparing for this for a long time.”
“Preparing for what?” Sam asked, unsure of whether she believed any of it.
“To get back at me for the death of his brother.”
“Tim, it’s not him. Whatever you might think, he’s dead.”
“NO! HE’S NOT!” Tim screamed, turning on John. The seated man just sighed as Tim stood above him.
“Whether it’s him or not, we can’t let that distract us. There’s still two men being held right now,” Sam said, reminding them of the matter at hand.
“Yes, you’re right,” John said. “And now we have a much better chance of catching him.”
“How?” Tim asked. This time Mumma stood and took the floor.
“Because we might know where he’s going.” They all turned to look at her. Mumma felt her cheeks burn a little with the sudden attention. “From what we know, all of his previous choices had been from people who’d been buried within the previous 10 days. After taking note of his previous known direction, I can confidently put it down to three possible locations.”
“How? There’s hundreds of miles before him. And dozens of burials in each state along the way.”
“True, but there are only 3 people with a surname starting with O.”
“No luck tracking his vehicle?” Sam asked, remembering the car cover.
“There were too many possibilities, unfortunately.” Tim stood and shook his head.
“Let me speak to him,” he said, glaring at John. “I’ll get him to talk.”
“No,” came the reply.
“At least give me a chance to save them. John, I’m the one he’s after.”
“Honestly kid,” John said, rising to his feet. “I don’t believe it’s him. We found bits from his body that indicate he died in that explosion.”
“No, you found a finger.” John lent in, grabbed Tim by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. The two men remained like that for a few moments, before John gave in.
“Mumma, would you give him an earpiece?” he said, still staring at Tim. The younger man simply nodded, looked at Sam and shot her a wink.
To give him a clear mind to work with, John suggested for Tim to head next door, while the rest of them remained in the replica room. John added to the isolation by closing the dividing wall between the two rooms, returning to his spot on the couch as Mumma powered up the speaker that sat on one of the tables between them.
The minutes passed as the speaker remained silent, everyone staring at it fixedly, including John as he sat nursing his whiskey. Sam glanced quickly at John, trying her best to keep it inconspicuous, but he noticed.
“You believe him, don’t you?” he quietly asked.
“I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that we need to give it everything if we want to save either of those men.” John didn’t reply, taking a sip from his drink before sitting back. As he did, Tim’s voice finally rose from the speaker, sounding every bit as threatening as his words.
“I’ll find you, you piece of shit,” he began. He paused, the speaker temporarily crackling as the connection snapped in and out. “And when I do, I’ll kill you, just like your piece of shit brother.”
Time froze as they waited for a response. Sam looked at both Mumma and John, two people who had known the person Tim was referring to. But neither displayed the kind of emotion she was feeling. The anticipation of an answer gripped her hard as Tim continued.
“What’s the matter? Not man enough to answer? Rather kill a few more innocents? Why? Why go through all of this bullshit just to get at me?” He paused again, patiently waiting for an answer, but the other listener remained quiet. The silence in the replica room screamed at Sam as she sat, waiting for an acknowledgement. But whomever was listening on the other end, either remained in complete control, or wasn’t listening at all.
“Suit yourself, coward. I hope you die squealing like your brother.” As if finally hitting the right nerve, a single word was spoken, the voice sounding robotic, like one of those old 80’s computer-synthesized voices.
“Soon.”
There was a click, a snap and Mumma confirmed that the connection had been broken.
“I’d say that’s the end of the earpiece,” she said, checking her laptop. John lowered the wall again and Tim returned, looking exasperated.
“Was it him?” he asked.
“The voice was computer generated. But whether it came from Red is anyone’s guess,” Mumma said.
“I think we need to set aside whether that voice was his or not. There’s three possible destinations and you guys need to choose one,” John said, setting his glass down and rising to his feet. “I’ll get two other teams in. Mumma, show us the options.” She did, the three names appearing on the big screen.
“Calvin Orr in Lewiston , Michigan; Cyril O’Reilly in Lancaster, Ohio, and Michael Overton in Lime Ridge, Wisconsin.” Tim walked closer to the screen, staring at the names. As if reading his mind, Mumma opened a map of the US, the three locations highlighted. He turned, looked back at Sam and gestured to her.
“Any preferences?” he asked. She considered, thought about all the previous locations and shook her hand.
“They’re all pretty much the same,” she said. Tim turned back to the map.
“We’ll take Wisconsin,” he finally said.
“Why?” John shot from across the room.
“Odd one out, I guess,” Tim replied and John nodded.
“OK then. Get on it. Mumma, get Anderson and Reilly to Michigan. For Ohio,” he paused briefly, considered, then added, “ McDeere and Turner to Ohio.”
“On it,” Mumma replied before getting up and excusing herself. She disappeared into the elevator a moment later, leaving the three of them for final words.
After some last minute instructions and brief pieces of advice, John
wished his two agents luck, then watched as they entered the elevator. They rode back to the surface and returned to the waiting car which took them back to the airport for the second time that day.
Sam stole a couple of glances at Tim, noting his ruffled expression. She could tell he was struggling with the emotions of the meeting. The information would have been tough to take, especially with the history he had with the killer. Despite wanting to ask him a million questions, she held off, waiting for him to invite her in again.
They didn’t speak until the plane was airborne again, Tim unsnapping his seatbelt the moment the attendant gave the thumbs up. He began pacing back and forth thousands of feet in the air, the occasional bumps of turbulence not seeming to affect him. For Tim , the emotional rollercoaster playing out in his mind was too much. Sitting still was an impossibility he needed to fix and pacing up and down the short aisle helped him.
“It’s him, Sam. I know it is.”
“Gut instinct?” she asked.
“I don’t know how to say it, but somehow,” he began, continuing to pace, “somehow I’ve always known. It just never fit, him disappearing that way.”
“But didn’t Evie…” She paused, suddenly aware of his eyes watching her a little too closely. “Sorry. I don’t mean to…”
“No, please. It’s fine.”
“Didn’t the blast, you know, with Evie?” She struggled to find the right words, only too aware of the pain he already wrestled with.
“Blow her apart? Pretty much vaporize her? Yes, it did. There wasn’t a lot left.” He stopped by his seat and fell back into it as another bit of turbulence hit the plane.
“What makes you think this Red fared much better?” He stared back at her with eyes that displayed too many emotions for her to recognize.
“It just never quite fit,” he repeated. “Ever since that night, something inside me felt off about the whole thing.”
Sam didn’t have the words to reply, unsure of what she could add to make the situation better. In the end, she didn’t need to say anything, as Tim sank back into his seat, swiveled it slightly towards his window and stared out.
As he sat quietly, caught up in the whirlwind spinning in his mind, Sam grabbed her cell and looked at their destination. It was a small-town cemetery and she needed to find them an inconspicuous place to wait. Once darkness hit, it wouldn’t matter much, but the topography of the land still needed to be known ahead of time. They couldn’t risk being seen
The closest airfield where they could land was in nearby Reedsburg, just a few miles from their destination. They already knew that the killer wouldn’t strike until well after the cover of darkness and with evening almost an hour away as the plane touched down, they felt good about timing.
Just as always, Mumma had arranged for a car to meet them on the tarmac and the pair didn’t hesitate to jump in the second the doors were opened. They were not going to get caught short a second time.
After exiting the airfield gate, Tim turned the car towards Lime Ridge, briefly stopping at a McDonalds for supplies. They ate on the fly, Sam wolfing down two cheeseburgers, despite having a meal on the plane. Tim watched her out of the corner of his eye, her appetite never ceasing to amaze him. He chuckled a little as she jammed the final bite in.
“Wha?” Sam tried to ask, but with her mouth filled to the brim, it sounded more like a choking dog, bits of cheese and bun spraying across her lap. This made Tim laugh even harder, which in turn gave Sam the giggles, but rather than join in the laughter, a piece of meat was sucked down her windpipe and she began coughing furiously. Tim’s laughter slowed, then stopped completely as he watched Sam’s color change from deep red to near purple, her choking not easing as he pulled over onto the shoulder.
With traffic passing them at breakneck speed, Tim jumped out and rushed to Sam’s side, her color now matching the deathly sounds coming from deep within her. Without hesitating, he grabbed Sam by the shoulders, pulled her from the vehicle and swung his arms around her middle.
He’d never performed a Heimlich maneuver before, but had watched it on television many times. Trying his best to imitate what he had seen, Tim began pulling his hands tightly towards himself, lifting Sam’s small frame off the ground with each thrust. Cars began to slow on the road before them, with a couple stopping completely. Her coughing has slowed considerably, as had her struggling. He could feel the life slowly slipping from her as he tried his best to free the offending morsel.
Two men came running towards him from opposite ends of the car, both looking terrified. They were mouthing something, but Tim heard nothing, instead focused on the job at hand. A woman began screaming from somewhere on the other side of the road, until one of the men told her to can it.
“Come…on….woman,” Tim whispered with each pump of the arms until finally, there was a snort, a cough and an almighty groan as a piece of meat shot out of her mouth, hitting the car window. A cheer went up around them as Sam began to suck in what everyone else had taken for granted, sure that she had been mere seconds from total unconsciousness.
“Wanna call 911?” one of the men asked, but Tim shook his head, still holding Sam as she dropped to her knees.
She looked up at him, her color finally returning some, but she instantly saw the thunderheads behind his eyes. After spending a few moments trying to calm herself and get back to normal breathing, she finally stood to some more cheering, before waving at the small crowd and climbing back into the car. Tim was at her almost instantly.
“What the hell was that? Think we have time to screw around?” She looked at him dumbfounded.
“What? I just choked,” she tried to say, but he refused to listen.
“Yes, because you were being stupid. What if he drove past at that moment and saw us messing around on the side of the road?” He turned to her, as if to emphasize his point. “What if he saw us, Sam?”
She pulled back a little, looking into a face too caught up in the nightmare world of his past. Whatever she was going to say would make no difference, of that she was sure.
“I’m sorry,” she simply whispered, grabbing her milkshake and taking a careful gulp. Tim didn’t answer, turning the car back into traffic and accelerating away.
It was Tim that spoke next, his voice low with regret as he looked for the spot Sam had chosen for them to lay low while waiting for the cover of darkness.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that,” he began, paused to check a roadsigns, then continued. “Evie once choked exactly the same way. I just got scared, that’s all. I’m sorry for being a dick.”
“Hang a left up here,” she replied, pointing to a small turnoff. “I’m sorry for not thinking. You’re right. I could have screwed the whole thing up.” Tim slowed and turned into the small road that led up and through the middle of a corn field. At the end of it were several clumps of trees and they figured that would be the best spot to hide until the time came.
“I just can’t stop thinking that it’s really him. Red, I mean. After all these years.”
“Were you chasing him and his brother for long?” Sam asked as they reached the trees and Tim swung the car in a big arc, finding the best spot for them to sit and wait.
“Almost a month.”
“Must have been horrible to find out he was a twin.”
“You’re not wrong,” he said, killing the engine. “Definitely won’t let that get past me again.”
As Sam watched the traffic roll by on the country road, Tim snatched the last cheeseburger from the bag and held it out to her.
“Seriously?” she asked, unimpressed by the gesture. Tim laughed a little, then unwrapped it and ate as Sam checked her cell. All that was left to do was wait.
While McDeere and Turner arrived at the Ohio destination right on sunset, Anderson and Reilly didn’t reach the Michigan cemetery until almost 10 that evening. They had been the closest to the location, but it still called for a six hour road trip. They checked in with Mumma the moment they reach
ed their pre-planned hang out and immediately set themselves up, complete with night vision goggles and binoculars.
They gave the go-ahead for mumma to open the channels to the other two teams and a few seconds later, 6 agents had open mics across three possible locations. While the road trip from Roswell had put the killer well within range of all three cemeteries, everyone knew that given the effort with excavating a coffin by hand would take a considerable amount of time. Add to that replacing the body with another and filling the hole in again, there was every chance that the process was an all-night job. If things were going to happen, they would begin earlier rather than later.
Each team checked in every 15 minutes, Mumma keeping tabs from HQ. She had as many video feeds open as possible, including a single camera at the Ohio cemetery that sat high on a lamp post beside the adjoining road.
Tim had grabbed his binoculars and sat on the Nissan’s roof cross-legged once daylight had stepped aside for the shadows. Sam sat on the hood of the car, leaning back against the windshield as they patiently waited for any sort of movement.
It was 11:30 when Tim suggested they head into the corn and get as close to the cemetery as possible. Sam agreed, despite the moon lighting up the headstones quite well. Any movement would be detected, but Tim wanted to get a lot closer, just in case something cropped up.
They made their way through the corn single file with Tim in the lead. His much larger frame created an alley wide enough for Sam to fit comfortably through. He slowed once they neared the edge, the occasional vehicle giving them a handy clue as to how far from the road they were.
As they stood patiently waiting, Turner began to whistle, the sound temporarily enjoyed by all. Anderson soon joined in, the pair of them following the melody of “Leaving on a Jet Plane” together. It was when McDeere began to sing that Mumma finally interrupted, suggesting they practice the art of concealment a little better.
That was when Tim heard a car approach, slow enough to indicate they were turning, then watched as headlights slowly swept across the cemetery as it steered towards the still-open gate. It was a white van and Sam grabbed his arm as they watched the vehicle slowly roll towards the middle of the graveyard and stop near the foot of some kind of tree.