The Negative Man: Twilight Days (Pacific Station Vigilante Book 4)

by Jeremy Croston

  “You were getting too close to the truth, just like your friend Kim did.”

  I looked up and saw a body at Lattimore’s feet. It was Kim, obviously dead. My God, he’d taken a beating from the looks of it. “You work for Volkkenkrüger I take it.”

  He laughed. “Not just work for; I am one of his acolytes, one of his chosen to make sure the next genesis that this country experiences pushes it forward. Kyle, you still have a chance to join us.”

  “No.”

  One simple word changed everything. Gone was the friendly face that I’d gotten used to from the time we worked together. In its place was the face of a mad man—a man who had no problem killing for his master. The proof was right there, in the form of Kim’s battered body.

  “His mind left quickly, you know?” Even his voice changed, becoming more ominous, deeper. “The body – well that took a lot longer to kill.”

  I felt ill with how easily he talked about murdering a man who was trying to bring good into this world. All Kim ever wanted was retribution for the crimes he committed under the control of Victory. That’s why he went after Volkkenkrüger without telling myself or Father Reigart. If he could find him, he would’ve had his happy ending.

  “You’re sick,” I said quietly.

  “Not sick; enlightened.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Kim’s dead husk. Then it hit me why—those were the exact same wounds that a number of our victims had in the cases Lattimore and I investigated. “You got to be kidding me.”

  The psycho started clapping. “I knew you’d figure it out. Yes, I’m the serial killer, the one who was tasked with cleansing Pacific Station before His arrival.”

  He spoke of this Volkkenkrüger like he was some sort of God. “Your master, he’s going to be dealt the same fate you are.” I tugged against my binds, but nothing budged. “When I get loose, I’m taking you in, personally.”

  “Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, as great as that sounds, you are much more than a victim. Soon the Sierra Vista police will arrive and find that I have indeed found the maniac murderer who’s plagued so many cities. You’ll be headed to the newly opened Black Lagoon and I will be hailed a hero.”

  It was times like this that I wished for the easier days, the times when Jericho was the worst we had to deal with. The Negative Man was many things, but he wasn’t some crazed lunatic. Still, Lattimore had the upper hand. I needed to get out of here as soon as possible. Going to jail wasn’t an option.

  I took in everything that was around me. I was in the office, sitting on a metal chair. The binds were some sort of steel braided cable. The situation wasn’t great, but there was always a way. The metal chair! That’s when I did something drastic. I jumped up and slammed the chair into the ground. The move caught Lattimore unprepared and the metal legs in the chair bent outwards, snapping the bottom of it in two.

  I slipped my still tied up arms off the backrest. Lattimore was charging me, but my legs were free. I dashed off to the side, using my inhuman reflexes to get out of the way. I wasn’t a speedster, as I couldn’t run straight at an insane pace, but my reflexive movements were faster than the eye could track.

  Lattimore was in the middle of an attack, which wasn’t close to hitting me, but his strength was something to behold. His fist cracked the floor where I’d been. That sealed the deal; he was a powered human.

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this, Parker, but you better stand down.”

  He wasn’t afraid of me. He stood there, like a sentinel, watching me with a curious look. “He said you’d never see the light and I so wanted Him to be wrong. I truly liked you, Kyle. You could’ve been a God with us.”

  A God? “Listen to yourself; do you truly think that this ends with you being crowned a God?”

  The edges of Lattimore’s mouth bent downwards, disappointment in my decision to scoff at his declarations. “We serve a man with the vision to finally make the powered people of this world no longer cockroaches. If you don’t want to join our cause, others are still out there, others with even more potential than you.”

  We were at a stalemate. With my hands bound and Kim dead, I made a choice. “I’m on to you and don’t think for a minute that if you or Volkkenkrüger have the spine to come back to Pacific Station, that I won’t be there to bring you down.”

  Nothing I said penetrated that shield of his. “When the time is right, The Morning Lynx and his cast of misfits won’t even be a blip on our radar.”

  With a last stare-down between the two of us, I dashed for the exit, the sounds of the police vehicles closing in on the scene Lattimore had called in minutes prior.

  Once I was outside the city limits, I was able to drop my phone from my pants pocket on to the ground. I dialed Becky and put it on speakerphone. “Kyle, where are you? We were start—”

  “Sorry Beck, no time.” I hated cutting her off when she was showing compassion, but I didn’t know how much time I had before Lattimore showed back up, if he was even trailing me. “Lattimore is working with this Volkkenkrüger and killed Kim. I need an evac from Sierra Vista immediately.

  The unasked questions would be thrown at me later. “Phil’s on it. We have your location and our sending help now.”

  I looked up at the moon, big and bright in the sky. We were dealing with something big here. No; something malevolent. Whoever this Volkkenkrüger was, I was plenty worried we weren’t close to ready for him.

  Issue #7 – The Return

  Three more years had passed since the last time I’d seen Detective Parker Lattimore. According to the police department, Lattimore was a suspect in the murder of Kim Krummel. Luckily for us, he’d left Kim’s body behind so we had something to bury. Father Reigart gave one of his best sermons in the moments leading up to the actual funeral, even if there were only five people in attendance.

  I’ll be the first to admit that time without hearing a word about Lattimore and Volkkenkrüger made me complacent. Life had started to go back to normal; crime was down and Pacific Station had even been voted one of the most desirable places for powered people to live. No, everything was pretty much back to normal until one day, we were watching the news.

  “Hey Kyle, come check this out,” Becky yelled from the living room into the kitchen.

  I walked out, breakfast not quite being done yet. She turned up the volume so I could hear the news lady, Holly Hassett, reporting. “Our final story comes to you from Harbor Towne. Late yesterday evening, two powered criminals tried to stick up the Eastside Diner, only to run into someone a lot more powerful than them. Viewer discretion is advised.”

  The video that followed up was grainy at best, taken on a low-resolution cell phone. I couldn’t hear anything but I saw the men enter. Eventually, one of the patrons approached the men holding up the place and that’s when it happened.

  “That’s not possible.”

  Becky was not talking either. We both watched the video without a word until it ended. As soon as Holly returned, going on about some new vigilante on the street or whatever, we both knew what we’d seen. “He’s supposed to be dead.”

  “That looked about as far away from death as one could be, Kyle.” Becky rewound the program so we could watch it again. “How did we not know?”

  “Jericho didn’t want to be found, that much is clear.”

  She placed a hand on my leg. “What do we do now?”

  I honestly had no idea. I was at a total loss that the man, who killed Ronald Victory, and himself, was in fact alive. On the third viewing of the video, I noticed something that I hadn’t before. He was missing a hand—his one arm just ended in a stump.

  I paused it. “We need to find him. Chances are the four men with him are Rich, Erin, Wade, and Andy. He’d been close with all four years back.”

  Phil made his appearance as Becky opened the laptop. “I know I was in sleep mode, but did I hear you correct? Jericho Staley is alive?”

  We played the video one last time so Phil could see with his o
wn virtual eyes. “I’m guessing the first thing you want me to do is see if I can find a digital fingerprint of Jericho?”

  “No.” My answer surprised the both of them. “We know two things for sure; he’s with good people and he’s in Harbor Towne. This is Jericho we’re talking about, if he catches wind of us looking into him, he might disappear into the wind again before we can find out what’s really going on.”

  “How can you be so calm about this?” Becky asked.

  On the inside, I was a mess. My history with Jericho was complicated to say the best. The man killed my father but he also saved my life. Complicated, that was a good word.

  I’d faced facts a long time ago that Jericho died that night we stormed into the convention center and confronted Victory. No bodies had been found, not even Victory’s, but there was no reason why any of them would be alive. He, Heather, and Victory died that day.

  That begged the question, if he survived did anything else? We needed to talk to him and get the truth. “Phil, monitor the situation, but don’t make it obvious. I have a sneaky feeling he’ll show back up in Pacific Station before it’s all said and done.”

  That was my final word as I went back into the kitchen to deal with the burning mess I’d forgotten about as soon as Jericho Staley returned to my life.

  ****

  I was running on the treadmill when I got an alert that I was needed in the garage sanctuary. I grabbed my towel, dried off my face and tossed on my hooded sweatshirt. Walking out the front door and down the stairwell we’d built for easier access, I saw Becky and Phil sitting at one of the planning tables, talking fast.

  “He’s here.”

  Becky’s finger led me to Phil’s computer screen. On it was a live feed from the wharf district. A ship had just moored, the FV Harbinger. Phil zoomed in the camera to the deck, where five figures were standing. I knew exactly who they were: Rich, Erin, Wade, Andrew, and…

  “Jericho,” I whispered.

  “You said he’d come back,” Becky reminded me, almost echoing my words from earlier.

  I almost reached out for my Mourning Lynx costume but thought better of it. “C’mon Becky, we’re going to go meet him, as friends.”

  She scrambled to her feet and the two of us ventured out. The Negative Man had returned to Pacific Station, but as a friend or foe?

  Issue #8 – Twilight Sets In

  **Parker Lattimore**

  “It’s coming together, as you said it would.”

  My master clapped his hands together. This was the first time in years we’d met in person – our usual interactions taking place through encrypted text or video chats. “You shall be reworded for your staunch belief, Providence.”

  I no longer kept the Parker Lattimore charade up. I was one of Volkkenkrüger’s chosen! Keeping that name I was born with seemed so pointless. “We have a candidate to take up the mantle of Fate. This one seems promising.”

  My master was sitting in a chair, the back of it facing me as he watched the monitors in front of him. I’d built this stronghold from scratch and once it was complete, He came, just as he said he would. “Excellent. Having the power of three will be key as we move forward, especially if President Whisnant is close to perfecting Victory’s folly.”

  The last of our group would be Destiny. She was in play as it was, but she also was not the type to take part in these clandestine meetings. “Once Fate’s seat has been reestablished, if you’d like, I can begin the final phase of your grand plan, master?”

  “No, it’s okay, Providence.” He turned his chair about a half turn, his face still obscured. “There’s one more thing I need to do before we push forward.”

  I hadn’t been privy to this. “What else is left to do?”

  One of the monitors flipped from Destiny’s empty office to the wharf district. I didn’t understand, still. I saw a ship there, the FV Harbinger was the call name engraved on the metal hull. The angle switched and it focused on a group gathered on the deck. Four of the five men in the circle were of no importance, the fifth however…

  “Is that Jericho Staley?”

  “The prodigal son returns home.”

  There was a reverence in His voice. “What do we need him for? He’s a wild card, cannot be trusted with anything!”

  A finger waved in the air, scolding me. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Providence.” My master got up out of his chair. “I think I shall handle this one myself.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s been a long time since I ventured out, but for Jericho, I’m willing to do so.” He left the shadows, the kind face that once greeted me for the first time met mine. “I’ve been a great many people over my lifetime so I believe I’ll be just fine, Providence.”

  I tried to backtrack, but he put a hand on my shoulder. “Your concern in genuine. But you’ve done your part and it is time for me to do mine.”

  Volkkenkrüger continued walking, out of the office in the factory I’d taken over in Sierra Vista. I followed suit, all the way into the night air. “Are you going to Pacific Station?”

  “Yes, for the sun sets in the west and Twilight takes hold there. The plan remains. Await my directive.”

  I stopped as my master climbed into the blacked-out SUV parked by the exit door. The engine started up and the window rolled down. I walked over quickly. “Yes sir?”

  He grabbed my hand. “You believe fully in my power, no?”

  What was there not to believe? The man was able to do things, impossible things with just a thought. The things I witnessed, they were incredible. “I’m as committed to the cause today as I was from the very beginning.”

  “I know, but I just wanted you to hear it for yourself.”

  With that, the window rolled up and Volkkenkrüger headed off, south, towards Pacific Station and the beginning of the end for non-powered humanity.

  Our story concludes in The Negative Man: Twilight Days

  The Negative Man (A Poem)

  By Cindy J. Smith

  Jaded, that's the word

  I am jaded

  Different times, different places

  Yet back in the same situation

  Why do I care so much

  Why do I feel the need to answer their call

  To rescue mere humans

  The very ones who fear me

  Who wish me dead

  Until they face a new demon

  A new personification of their greed

  Their need for power

  Their need to rule over others

  To enslave the masses to their will

  Then I am transformed

  Suddenly I am a savior

  Their only hope

  They come to me begging to be saved

  Begging me to come lend a hand

  I've lost so much

  For them, because of them

  In my attempts to free them from evil

  Bring them a life of peace

  Believing in them

  In their goodness

  Looking at my hand, wait there is none

  Just a memory of one

  Constant reminder of my foolishness

  Proof that no sacrifice is enough

  No price paid by me will free me

  How much more must I lose

  I lost my youth, my innocence

  They've taken everyone I have ever loved

  My parents, my family

  My friends, my soulmate

  Everyone is gone

  I have no desire to live

  Still they want more from me

  Do they want me dead too

  Do they think my death will somehow free them

  Can't they see

  Evil is not always negative

  Chapter 1 –

  Sunday Morning; Lakeshore Motel

  I was thankful to get out of the car. With the four of them constantly staring at me like I was some sort of ghost, the privacy afforded to me in my own room was nice. The lights were out and
the sun wasn’t quite up yet; I just sat on the bed afraid of what was to come next.

  I hadn’t been a part of society for so long. I’d grown accustomed to being alone and having no need to speak. Whether they wanted to believe it or not, Jericho Staley really was dead. All that was left these days was an empty husk—someone who very much no longer wanted to be amongst the living.

  There was just one problem; I couldn’t kill myself.

  Maybe it was Father Reigart’s influence on me, or maybe deep down there was a sense of self-preservation. Either way, when the few opportunities presented themselves for me to join Heather in the hereafter, I didn’t take them. Instead, I chose to keep this makeshift existence going.

  My good hand rubbed the stump that was left on my other arm. It was a constant reminder of my failures. I quickly stopped and got up. I walked into the bathroom, not having seen my reflection in so long. It was a thing straight out of a horror movie. My face was white and gaunt. I was sporting a unabomber beard and my hair was incredibly long and greasy. I reached into my tattered jeans and pulled out my one lone possession; a pocket knife I had found in that cabin. I grabbed the end of my hair and cut it off, roughly, just above the shoulders.

  Using the knife and a bar of soap, I shaved the beard off, too. It was hard work, but the knife’s edge was up to the job. As the last of the beard fell into the sink, at least now I recognized the man staring back at me. A quick shower later and a change into the fresh clothes Rich handed me, I wasn’t quite as scary as I was before.

  I still wasn’t ready to leave the isolation of the room. I plunked back down on the bed and flipped the television on. The bright screen hurt my eyes, but after adjusting the brightness, I was able to see a weather lady telling us about another beautiful sunny day we were going to experience. I hoped one of those guys had a pair of sunglasses. I had spent the better part of eight years avoiding the sun. I didn’t want to deal with that today.