"Seriously, man?" Charlotte leaned forward on the steering wheel and frowned. "Do I strike you as someone who would date one of them emo punks?"
"Hey, we all do strange shit while in high school. I once dated a goth girl who was into cutting herself and drinking blood. She was a strange one, but she was freaky, you know, in a good way. We had lots of fun together until she ended up slitting her wrists in the tub one night. She passed away on her way to the hospital."
"Jeez, man. I'm sorry, that had to have been hard on you."
"It was. But all I was saying is, you never know what someone does when they are younger, or what their tastes were. So, how did you end up having a kid with Campbell, anyway? Was he like some big-time nerd back then, or what?"
"If you really must know, Zack was a jock, and I was the school nerd. He was the captain of the football team, and I was president of the debate team. We met one day at the library when he was looking for a book. He asked me to help him study for a test the next day. I still don't know why he asked me. I was a freshman, and he was a junior when we met, but I had a huge crush on him, so I eagerly agreed. We started dating not long after, and I got pregnant at the end of my sophomore year, during prom night. I found out a week after he dumped me, so he could run off to UCLA to live his dream. I haven't spoken to him again until yesterday."
"Shit, girl. It's no wonder you kept the kid a secret." Charles put his cup down and leaned back in his seat. "You plan to tell him now that he's here?"
"Hell no."
"Oh, come on Char, I understand the guy was a dick when he dumped you, but he still deserves to know. Let the past be in the past, that's what my mama always said. And you know, he's here, so why not give it a try?"
"Oh yeah, I can picture it now. I'm just going to walk up to him and say: 'Hey Zack, how have you been? Want to go on that date you asked about? Oh, and by the way you have a nine-year-old son you didn't know existed.' Yup, that should go over as well as a fart in an elevator. I mean, I'd be lucky if he doesn't file a restraining order against me."
"Okay, okay. I get it, you're scared of his reaction, I would be too. But all I'm saying is, don't completely discount him. It may not be as bad as you think. He might want to step up and be a dad, you know. Plus, I saw the way he looked at you. He still holds a flame for you."
"Yeah, sure." Charlotte rolled her eyes at the thought of Zack still having the same feelings for her that she held for him. "But, fine, you win, I'll give it some thought later, and maybe I will let both of them know about one another."
"What? Your kid doesn't know who his father is either?"
"No, and I don't wish to explain myself on that matter." Charlotte started up the engine and began to drive with Chuck going back to sipping his coffee silently. She hated to snap at him as she did, but she wanted to conversation to end, and decided it was best to change the subject. "By the way. I saw it again. The pigman we saw at the station house."
"What? When?"
"Last night. I woke up, but I was not in my room, I was on the grass outside the hotel when it was burning."
"Say what now?"
"It's happened to me before. Like the day I went to grab my bag, that’s why I was so frazzled when I came back. I know it sounds crazy, but almost every time I meet him, I'm transported to another period in the island's history. I can tell I'm in the past because the colors are different, and the people pass through me as if they were ghosts. I'm there, but not really. Just a silent observer of a time gone by. I can see and smell the world around me, but I can't interact with anyone. I'm like a traveler in a virtual reality game. The time is always different, but the pigman is always there, waiting for me."
"What does it want with you?"
"The last few times I've seen it, it has pointed in the old hospital's direction. Last night I asked it if it wanted me to go there, and it nodded a yes to me and said I have to go there to find answers, or die."
"Die? Was that a threat?"
"I don't have a clue. I think it was more of a warning. Like, maybe the hospital has information that would help save my life if I had it or something. Not to mention," she subconsciously lowered her voice, "don't you find it a tad strange how adamant Victoria was about us not going to that place?"
"Yeah. Almost like she's hiding something in the building or on the grounds."
"Exactly. I bet that place holds something she doesn't want us to see, because I sure as hell am not believing the story that people just stay away from that place. We really need to check it out at some point if we ever get the chance."
"We? When did you drag me into this?"
"Sorry. I figured you'd want to know, and I don't want to go there by myself."
"You can always ask your boyfriend to help. After all, he's here investigating paranormal claims, and I bet he'd jump at the chance to spend some time with you exploring an old spooky hospital."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Not yet."
Chuck laughed at his remark even as Charlotte swatted at him for having fun at her expanse. The two of them continued joking and having a great time until the radio clicked on, putting a damper on their mood.
"EMS thirty-six fifty-five, please respond to the three-hundred block of Spruce Avenue for a hit-and-run. I got reports of a seventy-year-old female in critical condition."
"Ten-four, we are on our way." Chuck hung up the receiver and glanced over at Charlotte with a scowl. "Well, lets get going, partner. Looks like the island has struck again."
Turning on the sirens and emergency lights, Charlotte stepped on the gas and sped up the hill towards their destination. She knew where they were going. There was a small French bakery on that block where she and Charles had grabbed some pain Au chocolate the day they first started out as partners. It was hard to believe anyone would be involved in a hit-and-run there as residents of the island were overly cautious and the speed limit was only twenty-five miles per hour. Recalling what Chuck said after he reported to Iris, Charlotte thought that no words could have best described what was happening. The island seemed to be thirsty for blood, human blood, and these strange accidents were becoming all too routine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we're opened, we're red.”—Clive Barker, Books of Blood: Volumes One to Three
T he siren whooped as the ambulance came to a stop before a hoard of people gathered in a circle at the street corner outside the bakery. Hopping out from the cab, Charlotte stole a glance at the six crows sitting huddled on the striped, blue awning, looking down at the cobblestone pavement in silence. Pushing through the crowd of emotionless onlookers, she spots her patient, lying propped up in the baker's lap in a pool of gummy blood that snaked through the gaps in the stone. Flesh had been completely stripped off her leg from the impact, Charlotte could see her blood-specked tibia amongst the curtains of flesh, muscle, and yellow fat. The woman's skin was raised up past her thigh like a stalking, with everything else stripped clean below the knee. Her ankle had been snapped at her shinbone and lay at a ninety-degree angle from her leg, dangling precariously by a stretched-out tendon. Layers of crimson and yellow tissue spread out on the stones in heaps, some still oozing blood which had stained the stones. This was the worst survivable hit-and-run she had ever seen.
"Holy shit."
Charlotte glanced over at Chuck, who was bent over with his fist pressed to his mouth. His face was ashen, and his hands trembled despite him trying to keep it together. He looked like he was about to lose his breakfast. That's when she noticed something else, something strange. The people who gathered around did not act normal. Usually with trauma this bad they were either desperately trying to help, or they were looking the way Charles did. Yet these ones didn't have a shred of emotion on their faces, they seemed numb, and some even continued to eat their bagels as if a woman was not bleeding to death in front of them. The revelation sent a shiver through Charlotte as her skin prickled with cold heat, and she h
ad to turn to her partner before she did something she would regret.
"Hey," she put a hand on his shoulder, "you going to be all right?"
"Yeah, just give me a minute. I wasn't prepared to see this."
"Don't worry about it. Go call it in and grab the spine board and stretcher while I make sure she is stable."
"All right, thanks, partner."
"Don't mention it."
Kneeling beside the elderly lady, Charlotte reached into her bag, and pulled out a cervical collar which she put on as she laid her patient flat to assess her. Despite being dazed from the accident, the woman appeared to be breathing fine, and otherwise in good health, aside from her mangled leg. Giving her a shot of pain killers, Charlotte began trying to assemble the bits of flesh and bone on the pavement, so she could wrap them up the best she could for transport to the hospital. By the time Charles got to them with the back board and stretcher, she had collected as much of the woman off the pavement as she could, leaving bits of fatty tissue that were lodged in the crevices of the stone, glued in by drying blood.
Turning the patient enough for Charles to slip the spine board under her, they covered her with sheets and loaded her on the stretcher. The crowd parted in unison, still unemotional at what was happening, and allowed them to put the elderly woman into the back of their ambulance. Charlotte hopped in with her and waited for the door to shut behind her, and for the siren to kick back on as they raced for the hospital.
In the back, she continued to monitor her patient, bending over the cardiac monitor with a frown. Something was not right, the patient's heart rate was eighty beats per minute, it was normal and did not indicate the woman had suffered severe trauma. Reaching for the blood cuff, she measured the woman's blood pressure and found it to be normal as well. Perplexed by the unusual readings, Charlotte was about to call it in to the hospital when the woman reached out her blood-strained hand and took hold of Charlotte's wrist. Turning to tend to her patient, she noted her glossy eyes were sincere and warm, yet she continued to tremble despite knowing the woman was not about to turn like the last guy had.
"They are coming for you, sweetie." The woman mumbled. "You have to leave, or they'll get you like they got me. The Feast of Shadows is fast approaching."
Closing her eyes, the elderly woman let go of Charlotte and fell back onto the stretcher. The heart monitor whined as the heart line went flat, then it bounced and beeped while the pulse restarted itself. Swallowing hard, she looked at the monitor, the number appeared to be more normal now, reaching almost one-hundred beats per minute. She waited for her patient to regain consciousness as she continued to work on her, but she never did, not even when the trauma team at the hospital took possession of her. Charlotte knew her prognosis was grim, but she hoped for the best, regardless.
Driving away from the hospital, the two medics opted to go sit on a bench by the ocean and discuss the island's blood-lust. Both agreed that the number of traumatic calls was unusual for such a small place, but neither could come up with a good explanation. They knew that to find answers, one, or both of them would have to go poke around the old hospital, but neither one dared to volunteer. Not to mention neither one of them wished to go back to the station house and deal with Victoria, so they sat in their seat overlooking the ocean and pondered what else the island had in store for them until it was time to leave and wait for the next day to show its hand.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.” — James A. Garfield
A fter a long day of avoiding her boss, Charlotte had to go back to the station to take a shower and change out of her blood-stained uniform. Having sent the others on their way, she walked back to the hotel while she went over the events of the previous three days in her head. Lost in her thoughts, she opened the door to her room, expecting to find Kevin playing with his games or watching television, and not the least bit prepared for what actually awaited her on the other side. Letting out a yelp, she fumbled with her phone, almost dropping it on the floor as she spotted Zack sitting at the corner table, chatting with their son. Her heart raced as she wondered what they were discussing, and crippling fear of how much they figured out on their own consumed her.
"Kevin," her voice came out shriller than she expected, "what is going on here?"
"Oh, hey mom." The boy leaped up, knocking over a chair. "Why didn't you tell me you and Zack Campbell went to high school together? Or that you used to date him?"
"Hmm, guess it must have just slipped my mind. But that still doesn't explain what he is doing in our hotel room. I thought I taught you not to talk to strangers, and not to let them into our home, no matter how famous they may be."
"Don't be mad at him, Cherry. I came by to insist on that dinner you promised me, and he opened the door. I told him I knew you from high school, and he told me he was my biggest fan before he let me in to wait for you. Neither one of us realized you'd be an hour late."
"It was a rough day." She grumbled. "How did you find me, anyway?"
"I called up the station looking for you. That nice girl, Iris, told me you were on a call, but that if I wanted to catch you, I could find you here, in this room."
"Figures she had a hand in this. Bet Chuck put her up to it." Charlotte cursed herself for ever telling the two of them anything. "So, what do you want?"
"Well, I came by to ask you on a date, but now I want to have a talk with you on a different matter. Is there a place where we can chat, in private?" He shot a glance at Kevin. "If you don't mind, that is."
"Fine. Let's step out into the hall then, since that's the only privacy we will get around here."
Motioning for Kevin to sit in the chair and wait for her, she led Zack out into the hallway and shut the door firmly behind them. At first, she did not care who would spot them together like that, but as she glanced at his face, she saw in his eyes the words that remained unsaid between them for far too long, and suddenly, she hesitated. Regret took hold of her and instead of confronting him, all she wanted to do was run. There was no longer a way to avoid him, or the truth that was about to come to light, yet she was not ready to face any of it, even as she stared defiantly up into his face.
"All right, Zack, talk. What is it you want?"
"How about we start with you telling me if that is my son in there?"
His question hit her like a speeding freight train, knocking the wind out of her and making her dizzy. She knew he had to have figured it out, it should have been obvious to both of them given the timeline, and she guessed that much when she walked into the room, but she was not prepared for him to confront her about it. Trailing her eyes down to the paisley carpet, she bit her bottom lip while rubbing her shoulder. Could she lie to him, she thought. Would he believe her if she told him Kevin wasn't his? She knew he wouldn't, she realized he already knew the truth, even if she still entertained the possibility of being able to fool him.
"Oh no you don't." Zack lifted her face back up to his. "I know you well enough Cherry to know that means you are thinking about lying to me. So, the next words out of your mouth better be the truth."
"Fine." Charlotte took a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes. "Kevin is your son, so what of it?"
"What?" Zack grabbed hold of his head and ran his fingers through his thick black hair. "Why... why didn't you tell me?"
"What if I did?" Charlotte demanded as the lid on the anger she held for him finally came off. "What then? Would you have abandoned your dream of UCLA, stayed behind in Boston, and played house with me?"
"I don't know." Zack snapped and threw his hands up in the air. "But I would have liked the option to make that decision."
"Yeah, well, your mother didn't want you to make that choice, and neither did your sister, or your friends. They all bullied and harassed me into keeping my mouth shut. Called me a worthless whore who was out to ruin your life. Spray painted 'slut' on my locker and even threw a brick through my bedroom window
with a note warning me to stay away from you. So, this is what I did, Zack, I let you go like they wanted me to. I let you go live your dream while I had Kevin, and raised him by myself, even if it meant giving up everything I wanted."
"Wait, hold up, my mother knows about this?"
"Oh yes, she was livid when my mother told her. Said to keep me away from you, and I think she was the one to turn your sister against me too. She's seen her grandson once, at the hospital when she threw an envelope of cash at me to support him for the first year. These days she sends him a birthday card every year with a check for five-hundred dollars in it, but we never cash it, we don't do handouts, especially not from people who hate us."
"This is absurd." Zack slammed his fist on the wall. "Everyone knew, and yet not one person cared to tell me I had a son? Not one? Not even you?"
"I wanted to Zack; I really did." Charlotte reached out and grabbed his hand. A flood of emotions battled for prime position inside of her making it hard to find the right words. "I thought of telling you after you graduated, but by then I had moved on, and when he turned out to be nothing more than a jerk, Kevin was already eight and you were famous. I thought it would be absurd to tell you at that point. It would seem like I was just after your money or something."
"I'd never think that Cherry, you should have known that. Or, do you really think that poorly of me?"
"No, of course not, it's just—"
"Is it true?" The door to the room creaked open and Kevin poked his face through the crack. "Is Zack Campbell my real dad?"
"Didn't I teach you it's not nice to eavesdrop?"
"I didn't," Kevin rolled his eyes and opened the door further, "I could hear you two arguing all the way at the table. With the way you were yelling at one another, I think the whole hotel heard you. Plus, I sort of put two and two together when he told me you used to be a couple. So, is it true?"
"Yes, I'm afraid Zack is your real father. But I'm sure you're just heartbroken over it."
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