by M J Preston
“Bobby, look out!” Charlene screamed. Brad, in his white button-down cook’s outfit, stepped out of the alleyway and then there was a thud and a bump. Charlene looked back, and the ghoul which stood watching now began to give chase. “Go go go!”
“I hit Brad! Jesus, I hit poor Brad!”
Brad tried to get up on one elbow. He had no idea why he was on the ground, why there were bodies to his left: he just knew he had to get up. Then he saw the thing coming at him in a flurry.
Through the back window, Charlene watched in horror as the creature pounced on Brad and tore him apart. “Don’t stop!” she screamed. Her screaming became wails as the cab sped off, leaving the monster and bloodbath behind.
The monster pulled out Brad’s heart and held it over its head, shrieking insanely like a football player who had just crossed the goal line to score a touchdown.
“Tell him I’m here! Tell the hunter I have arrived!” Blood and black spittle erupted from its mouth, and it laughed insanely as the fleeing vehicle disappeared over the hill. “I’m here!”
Bobby was driving like a maniac with no sense of direction, and he couldn’t get the mental image of that thing tearing through the diner out of his head.
What in God’s name was it? Some kind of animal I’ve never seen before? Beside him, Charlene was hyperventilating, and just as he was about to tell her to open the window, she barfed all over his dashboard.
“Aw, Christ,” he groaned. “There’s some napkins in the glove compartment.”
“I’m sorry.” She was a vision, her mouth laden with whatever she had for breakfast. The coat of make-up she had probably spent an hour putting on made her look like Alice Cooper wearing a blond wig.
She has better tits though.
“It’s okay, Charlene. You’re not the first one to barf in my cab.” He reached behind him and grabbed a can of air freshener. She was wiping up now as he sprayed the air in the cab. “Man, what a crazy fucking morning,”
2
“What the hell?” Pete Kennedy was sitting at the corner of Bench Road and Yale East when the cab went by doing better than eighty. He didn’t have his radar set up yet, but that didn’t stop him from pulling out. It was Morneau. He usually drove too fast, but even for Bobby, this was much faster than usual. Kennedy fired up the lights and chirped the siren.
Just as he was closing on the cab, Morneau locked up the brakes. “Shit!”
The cruiser crashed right into the rear of Morneau’s cab, pushing the trunk in and sending the back end up onto the push bar of the police car. Kennedy just sat in shock a moment – then he shook his head and got out of the car. Morneau was also getting out of his cab, and the passenger on the other side was getting out. They were okay, but this was a disaster. The Chief was going to have a field day with this.
“Thank God, Pete! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see your disco lights in my side view mirror,” Morneau said, crossing over to him.
“Bobby, why did you slam on your brakes?”
“They’re dead,” Charlene started in. “They’re all dead!”
Kennedy stopped and said. “Whaa? Who’s dead?”
“Everyone, Pete. It just tore through Angela’s Diner like the fucking Tasmanian devil. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,” Bobby blathered.
“Have you been drinking, Bobby?”
“He’s telling the truth, Peter. It killed Randy Maytum and his son. It killed Brad, the cook.” Charlene was almost frenzied. “And Nort and Mary Rossi and – fuck! A bunch of others! It’s a fucking massacre!”
“Okay, everyone calm down. Let’s get in my car and show me what you’re talking about.” Though Kennedy wasn’t sure, he’d even be able to pull the cars apart if they did climb in.
“Not a fiddler’s fucking chance in hell I’m going back there! In fact, I’m not even staying here. It could be coming this way.” Morneau took Charlene’s hand. “You coming?”
“Just hold on a minute there. You can’t leave: we just had a crack up!”
“Look, Pete.” Morneau turned, still holding Charlene by the hand. “We are the least of your problems today. The best advice I can give you is to call the cop shop and tell them to bring as much artillery as humanly possible. We are not staying.” And he turned and hurried away.
“Damn it, Bobby! Stop,” Kennedy yelled. Bobby complied and turned, but his face was restless, and Kennedy didn’t think the pause would be for long. Kennedy keyed up his remote radio.
Base, come in.”
“Go ahead, Pete.” It was Jim West.
“Base, I have been involved in a minor collision.” Kennedy raised his hand to Morneau, which essentially was asking him to wait.
“Anyone hurt, Pete?” West asked.
“Not at my location, but there is a secondary issue in which I request secure means.”
“Copy that.”
“Further to my last, I am sending two civilians down Yale Road East. Could you dispatch someone to pick them up and take them back to the station?”
“Will comply.”
Kennedy gave Bobby and Charlene a hard look. “Okay, keep walking down Yale; they’re dispatching a car to pick you up.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Angela’s Diner.”
“Are you insane, Pete? Did you hear what we said?” Bobby protested.
“Yeah, I heard you, and I am calling for back up, but I don’t just stop being a cop on the word of a Gypsy cab driver and his girlfriend. I gotta check it.” Pete opened the door and started to climb into his broken cruiser, getting ready to see if he could unhook it from the smashed up cab.
“Pete, we’re not drunk, and this isn’t a joke.”
“Okay, well I have to check it out no matter what, and I’m calling for backup – so you guys start walking and watch for a car to pick you up.” He closed the door and started the cruiser as Bobby and Charlene looked on in disbelief. He put the car in reverse and revved it up: after a second the push bar ripped the rear bumper off Morneau’s cab.
“Numbnuts,” Morneau cussed, then turned and continued leading Charlene away.
In his breast pocket, Kennedy’s phone started to vibrate. He withdrew it and flipped it open as he drove toward Angela’s Diner.
3
“My name is John Proudfoot, and I am here to see my cousin Daniel Blackbird.”
Proudfoot and the four other native fellows stood before Jim West at the counter. Jim dwarfed all five of them, who ranged in height from the shortest – Toomey – to the tallest – Proudfoot. They looked odd to West, like something out of an old spaghetti western.
Behind them, through the glass doors, the sun was making a brief appearance in a losing battle with the incoming thunderheads.
“Daniel Blackbird is indisposed at the moment.”
Toomey stepped forward. “What is your name?”
“Corporal Jim West.” His voice was soft and kind, like a gentle giant.
“Are you in charge here?”
“I’m the duty officer, so yeah, I am in charge. What would be your name, Sir?”
“My name is Jake Toomey. Most people just call me Jake or Old Jake, but you can call me Jake Toomey. Little Proudfoot here didn’t make himself clear, so as the Elder of this band I am going to reinforce what he said. We must see Daniel now. It is vitally important, not just to us, but to you, Corporal Jim West.”
West smiled. He instantly liked the little Indian guy, found it amusing that he was so small yet forceful. Like an aboriginal leprechaun with an attitude. “Jake Toomey, I appreciate your urgency, but Dan Blackbird is in an interview with Chief Logan and Sgt. Collins. As much as I don’t want to impede the importance of you seeing him, I can’t just bust in on them.”
Toomey muttered something in Chocktee that West thought was a curse. Then Toomey turned
to the others, and they began conversing in their language.
As they talked, the radio keyed up behind West.
“Base come in.” It was Pete Kennedy.
He stepped away from the window and pushed the send button. “Go ahead, Pete.”
4
Logan sat across from Blackbird in the same interview room he had spent endless hours in with Stephen Hopper. Mick stood in one corner. Spread out on the table were photos they had taken inside the Parkins and Sawyer households. They had been at it all night, and all three men looked exhausted. Logan didn’t know which way was up anymore, and though he didn’t think that Blackbird had killed the Sawyers or Kolchak, he still didn’t buy the story he was selling.
“It’s coming,” Blackbird insisted.
At midnight they had watched the clock flip over and nothing.
“Apparently the Equinox shape-changer isn’t happening in Thomasville.” Mick slammed his fist down on the table. “Just admit your involvement!”
But Blackbird only repeated: “It’s coming.”
That was then, and now it was 7:10 and Daniel could barely keep his eyes open. He had given up speaking long ago. Every explanation he gave was being dissected and discredited. As the hours wore on, and as sleep deprivation took hold, he began to believe that maybe there was no Skinwalker. That perhaps he had gone crazy after all. Could this whole thing be a figment of my imagination, a chemical imbalance causing schizophrenia?
Get a grip, Dan: you’re losing it!
He could feel the big cop, Mick, staring him down, wishing for him to confess. I wonder if he’d beat me if I gave him his wish? After all the sleepless hours, what he had seen through the monster’s eyes in the aircraft, he was ready to believe or say anything. That was when a voice spoke up inside him, one that was not Grandfather’s, his mother’s or, even his own. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t tell them anything more.
5
Kennedy crested the hill where Brad the cook had been struck down and devoured, and though the body was gone there was plenty of blood to mark the spot. He stopped the car and backed away from the crest. “Holy crap.”
“I have an 11-99, multiple units required.” So far, he’d seen only this bloody spot, but it gave credence to what that crazy Bobby Morneau had said.
His cell phone rang up, and he answered it. “Hello?”
“What’s going on, Pete,” West asked.
“I’ve got a lot of blood at the intersection of Bench Street and Yale Road East. There may be some validity to what Morneau was saying. Maybe a wild animal of some sort?”
“Okay, Pete, I’m sending two units your way. Steel and Hardy are en route. You just sit tight and wait for the cavalry. Report all observations over secure means only.”
“Copy that, Jim.”
Kennedy closed the flip phone and looked at the crest of the hill, wondering what else was beyond it. Are they really all dead? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and thought to himself, I know what will happen when they get here. ‘Pete, go do sentry,’ or, ‘Pete, head back and be duty officer.’
Sometimes it sucked being the junior guy, and for this reason, he decided this time he wasn’t going to sit tight. Slowly he got out of the cruiser and undid the snap on his weapon.
6
“Tell your officer to get out of there, Corporal Jim West,” Toomey warned from behind. “Don’t send anyone there!”
The little Indian man gave him a start, and had he not been such easygoing and thoughtful man, he might have scolded him. “Huh? What are you talking about?” But what West was thinking was: How the hell did he know that?
“The only thing waiting there is death. We must see Dan Blackbird right now! And Chief Logan too!” All at once the likeability was gone from the old man, and in its place was forcefulness.
At any rate, West had to alert the Chief to this new development at Angela’s – and, of course, the party of five to see Blackbird.
Sabrina came in with a cup of coffee in her hand. Her shift still didn’t start for another twenty minutes: her routine was to go to the lunch room and read the morning paper. She smiled at West and raised her eyebrows at the group of five. “Morning, James?”
“Hey, Sabrina, can you cover dispatch for a sec while I grab the Chief?”
“Sure,” Sabrina nodded. Duty called. The paper would have to wait…
“Sit tight; I’ll be right back,” West said to Toomey.
He stepped away from the counter and started for the interview room. He was also tired, and maybe that was why this whole bizarre morning was easier to accept. Perhaps it was the nineteen hours he’d been up, but he felt that he should be moving a hell of a lot faster on the Kennedy situation and with that, he picked up his pace.
7
Kennedy was out of the car, gun drawn and working his way along the building next to Thomasville Hardware. The blood was in clear view now, but even worse he could see three bodies right off. Mary Rossi and Randy Maytum were slumped over each other. Blood seeped from all around them down the hill like a river. Maytum’s son, Sid, was laid out on the sidewalk and it looked like someone took a shop-vac to his stomach.
He peered across the street at Angela’s Diner. It was a bloodbath. Suddenly he didn’t feel so secure or cocky. Maybe waiting for the cavalry at the car wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
He began to back up, using the building’s brickwork as a guide. Adrenaline pumped through his body. His started to shake. He might be exhausted from pulling a double shift, but that did not muzzle the fear he suddenly felt, nor did it ease the tremors he felt run through his hands.
Gotta keep cool; backup’s on the way.
Easier said than done.
When a liquid which felt like cold, raw egg white spilled down on his right shoulder, he almost fired into nothing. Then he looked up and saw it perched atop the hardware store, staring back down on him.
8
Blackbird was trying very hard to fight the lethargy, but sitting in this seat made doing so almost impossible. Logan and Collins also looked exhausted, but Logan looked worse: like he was gonna pass out.
Logan pushed the last photo across the table, and it was something that Blackbird immediately recognized. The picture was that of a drawing scrawled in blood on the Sawyer basement floor.
“Do you know what this is?”
“It’s a calendar,” he replied.
Collins, who had been leaning against the wall ready to pounce, stood up and walked over to the desk, steadying himself with his hands on the edge. He stared at the picture for a moment, then locked his eyes with Blackbird’s. He was trying everything he could to intimidate him. “A calendar?”
“Yes; it is inscribed on the sentry posts in my village.” He pointed to the writing at the top of the wheel: Vᑕᐊᒣᐱᓯ ᑐᐸᑲᓇᒣᓴᒉ “This represents the vernal equinox.” Then he pointed to the bottom ᑊᑲᔭᑲᑫᒣ ᑐᐸᑲᓇᒣᓴᒉ “This is the autumn equinox. Today.”
“This again,” Mick sighed.
There was a knock at the door, and Mick went to get it while Logan looked at the photograph he had taken of the Sawyer basement floor. Rhonda’s body, along with the other three, had been removed and were being examined by Henderson at the morgue. This is a goddamned nightmare.
“Do you want to hear this? Or not?”
“Go ahead.” Logan rubbed his eyes, longing for a Percocet.
“The equinox is when night and day are equal, but it is also an alignment of worlds. I wish Jake Toomey were here; he could explain this far better than I.” Blackbird sighed. “This calendar is a variation on a much older one, probably as old as the earth.”
Mick interrupted, “Dave. We need to step outside for a minute.” West was holding the door. The look of concern on their faces was enough to jolt Logan.
He stood up.
B
lackbird stood up too. “It’s here, isn’t it?”
“Shut up and sit down,” Collins barked.
“Sit down, Dan.” Logan turned away and walked to the door. “What’s going on?”
“In the hall,” Mick motioned.
Logan looked from Blackbird to his officers and observed the raw emotion etched into their faces. This wasn’t good. West’s eyes widened. Logan quickened his step. “We’ll be right back, Dan,” he said without turning around and stepped out into the hallway with his officers.
9
Bobby Morneau saw the police cars coming and expected that they would stop to pick him and Charlene up – but they blew right by without slowing down, lights on, but no sirens. Guess they got confirmation from Pete.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, Robert,” Charlene said and nudged him.
“I’m with you on that,” he agreed. They began walking again, hand in hand, up Yale Road toward town.
10
“Officer down! Officer needs assistance!” It was Hardy, and she sounded completely off-kilter. “Send all available units!”
“What is your situation?” Sabrina responded.
Logan, West, and Mick were all entering the staff room when the call came through, and they heard the distress in Hardy’s voice.
So did Jake Toomey, who stood at the window. “Chief David Logan, I need to see Daniel Blackbird right now!”
Logan ignored the old man and went to the radio. “What have we got, Sabrina?”
“Constable Hardy, she’s just sent an officer down, and officer needs assistance.”
“Get everyone keyed up – and I mean everyone, Mick!”
Chief David Logan! Pull your people back! Do it now!” Toomey yelled. “If you care about your people pull them back now!”