by B. Groves
Owen’s skin was turning a deep red, a hissing sound with smoke rose from between her fingers.
Alison let go when Owen leaned his head back and opened his mouth. His eyes rolled back, and a black tar-like substance came flying out of his mouth. Alison heard Owen make some choking noises as the black shadow flew out of the car and disappeared into the air.
Owen slumped over when the shadow was gone and closed his eyes. Alison looked around to make sure no one had seen them and checked the man’s pulse. She smiled, thanking the shadow for letting the man live.
After several moments, Owen blinked his eyes and coughed. He jerked in the seat. He sat up straight and tried to brush off something that wasn’t there, his facial expression showing his panic. He finally turned his head and his eyes widened, seeing Alison standing there gazing at him.
“Alison?” He inhaled deep breaths and put a hand over his chest.
“Are you all right, Owen?” Alison asked feigning concern. “You were slumped over in your seat for a minute.”
Owen ran his hands across his chest and looked around his car. His confusion played on his facial features.
“I—I think I’m okay,” he said.
“As long as you think you’re okay,” Alison answered, putting a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. No burning sensation. The shadow was gone. She removed her hand from his shoulder.
“I don’t remember how I got here, though,” he said. “Do you think I might be sick?”
Alison blinked and smiled. “I would go see a doctor if I were you.”
Alison turned to walk away and leave work, satisfied that Owen was human again.
“Do you think I should?” He asked.
“Yeah, it might be a heart issue,” she said over her shoulder, leaving a confused Owen in her wake.
Chapter 3
Reverend Kyle Ellis gazed down at the buffet table that held fifteen types of casseroles. His stomach lurched while he tried to hide his disgust. He searched the table trying to find a lighter meal, perhaps a salad or some fruit. The thought of eating another greasy casserole didn’t sit well with him today, and the acid in his stomach burned his throat.
Can’t these women ever cook anything besides a casserole? Kyle thought with a roll of his eyes.
Kyle tugged at his collar, wanting to pull off this stupid tie and find cooler air. The community hall at the fire station’s air conditioning had tapped out again, and the heat of dozens of bodies in the room dressed in their Sunday best, a mix of hairspray, overpriced perfume, and cheap cologne was enough to make a man lose his lunch.
But Reverend Ellis had to have the luncheon here. It was the only place he could book at the last minute. He had a problem near the church and he told everyone some pipes burst and he had to keep it closed.
Luckily, no one questioned him about why he hadn’t called a plumber yet.
Thank the good Lord the nearest plumber—Dave something or other—didn’t attend his little church in this part of town. Then he’d be stretching for answers.
Today was one of those hot days that clung to your skin and clothing. The kind that made you stay inside and out of the sun. The sky was a hazy grayish color, not the usual Carolina blue that residents loved to boast about. If this heat kept up, all the lawns and trees would turn brown by the end of August.
The local weather forecaster predicted thunderstorms, but that didn’t mean relief from the stifling heat.
Mrs. Elderson left the potluck early. The heat inside the community hall was too overwhelming for the elderly woman. Kyle hoped others would follow her, but most of his congregation stuck around for the free food.
If Kyle was one of those pastors, he would swear that Hell was reigning fire and brimstone onto the town, but he wasn’t one of those pastors.
Kyle continued his quest for some lighter food while the congregation talked amongst themselves or surrounded their new parishioner.
Kyle turned his gaze over to Miguel Alvarado. He stood in a corner surrounded by women who pretended to care about him and his daughter.
Miguel had been a devoted Catholic until three weeks ago. It was three weeks ago that he lost his beloved wife Luciana. Wolfpine believed the woman died of natural causes.
Kyle caught Miguel’s gaze. The man’s haunted look and haggard appearance were not only from his wife’s sudden death but the way she died.
A death that was now Kyle’s burden to resolve.
Kyle stepped in front of one of the huge fans cooling the hall. His armpits were stained with sweat, just like most of the other men here for the monthly potluck, but he hated to think he was showing how hot he was.
He could see people starting to leave the hall because of the heat. This would be the shortest potluck they ever hosted. He smirked at the thought.
Kyle heard a commotion and walked over to the door to investigate. He heard sighs of relief and excited chatter as a local catering company unloaded their cars. Someone had ordered a bunch of cold food and drinks.
Kyle appreciated the delivery.
He stepped out of the way as people reentered the hall to fill up their plates. This was a pleasant and unexpected surprise.
Kyle shouldn’t have been aggressive, but he was as desperate as everyone else to cool off. So, he placed himself in line and grabbed a salad.
He spoke with members of his congregation, his part-time receptionist—Miranda O’Neill—not hiding her displeasure about Kyle’s choice for the potluck.
Miranda side-eyed him but didn’t further question her boss.
Kyle scooped salad onto his plate, filled up the plastic cup with ice and water, and sat at a table off in the corner. He wasn’t in the mood to be friendly and engaging today. He sure as hell didn’t want to keep his appointments this week.
He found someone to contact about the problem he was dealing with and he could only pray that this person would answer his call. He sent three emails the past week and nothing. No answer. He followed up with his initial contact and they didn’t answer either.
His frustrations with these hunting people only added to the suspicions he’d been having about this town for years.
“You’re not very sociable today,” a voice said from beside him.
Kyle looked up to see Chief Markus Carter grabbing a metal folding chair and joining him at the table.
Kyle crumpled his napkin in his hand and stared at the chief of police.
The fifty-something man sat patiently waiting for an answer knowing what was already bothering Kyle.
Kyle ran a hand through his chestnut hair and made a disgusted face because of the sweat.
He wiped his hand with another napkin. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and said, “I tried again the other day, but she’s not responding. She sits there and laughs at me. Her father is becoming impatient.”
“What about that person you said you would contact?”
Kyle took a bite of salad. He chewed the cold food without tasting it and swallowed. “She hasn’t answered. I don’t think she will. My other contact bailed, too.”
Markus shook his bald head. His dark brown eyes scanned the crowd. “You don’t know who’s who anymore,” he muttered.
Markus was right, although Kyle knew some. He knew those he did not save over the last five years and now he was failing a child.
“Do you know who brought this food? You know these women only know how to cook meat, more meat, and pasta.”
Markus chuckled, taking a big gulp of water. “I have no clue.”
“We’re not sure either,” another voice said.
Kyle adjusted his collar when he heard the light female voice to his left. He turned and tried to plant a smile on his face. He didn’t think he’d have to talk to her today, but it was inevitable because of the situation the congregation found themselves in.
Emma Leavens smiled her flirtatious smile to everyone around her. Her long, flaming red hair fell softly over her bare shoulders. The woman didn’t sweat
, as Kyle discovered some time ago.
She looked cooler than a cucumber and prettier than a rose inside this horrible community hall with the old wood paneling and blinding fluorescent lights.
Her pale skin showed off her freckles and her green sleeveless dress perfectly contrasted her pale skin and lush hair.
Kyle knew Emma all too well. He knew her intimately. He was lonely and bored after his divorce and Emma was his cure.
Emma had grown up in Wolfpine, she won every beauty contest in the state, and came home to marry the rich widower—Donald Leavens. Donald was thirty years Emma’s senior and died months before Kyle’s divorce. Donald was also the church’s biggest donor, and although Kyle and Emma were no longer lovers, he tried to keep up the facade of friendliness towards her for that reason.
Emma was now the rich widow since Donald never had children to leave his fortune to. Kyle found out that Emma had an eye for other men around the time they were seeing each other, and he ended it not wanting more drama in his life.
Kyle was hurt, but Emma never showed regret. Her looking as cool as a cucumber also matched her personality.
“Wonderful sermon today, Reverend,” Emma said with a smile. She turned to Markus and said, “It’s so nice to see you here, Chief.”
Anyone could fall under Emma’s spell. She could turn on the charm quicker than a man losing his toupee in a hurricane.
Markus grinned up at the woman standing over them.
“Thank you, Emma,” Kyle said. “It’s not your food?”
Emma shook her head dramatically, making sure her hair made swooshing sounds. “Not at all, Reverend. I don’t know who brought in the cold food for us.”
Markus and Kyle exchanged looks. No one here expected the air conditioner to tap out.
Kyle didn’t care. He was ready to leave this life and start anew.
He’d lost his faith over the years and with his divorce, he didn’t think he could call himself a Reverend if he couldn’t even keep his marriage together.
He prayed over it for many nights in the past three years and as he prayed he became more resentful. The church committee no longer seemed to care about the state of their place of worship so why should he? Donations no longer came in waves, they only trickled in. The church was badly in need of repair even with Emma’s generosity and Kyle thought he wasn’t really lying when he said the pipes had burst, it was par for the course with the place.
He loved his church, but over the years and many heartaches, Kyle questioned what his path was and at thirty-six he thought he better decide where he wanted to go in life before it was too late.
Kyle heard some whistles and cheering from the crowd and stood up. Emma grinned. She turned back to Kyle with an excited look in her eyes he never saw before even when they spent some passionate nights together.
“I think I know who brought the food,” Emma said.
Kyle strained his neck and glimpsed the person everyone was making a fuss over.
He scowled and wondered why the Mayor of Wolfpine showed up here today.
Markus had already abandoned Kyle to greet the mayor along with the rest of the parishioners.
Miranda pushed her way through the crowd to find Kyle and gave him the look. Be nice, her facial expressions said. Miranda knew how Kyle felt about the mayor. He returned her look as he fixed his collar and shrugged about his sweat-stained shirt and tie to greet the mayor with phony enthusiasm.
She returned to the other side of the hall and Kyle pushed his way through the overheated bodies to see Mayor Samuel Manes greeting the church committee members while holding Joan Baker’s two-year-old daughter in his arms.
The young girl stared at the crowd, cooed, and laughed as she popped her thumb into her mouth. Joan had been trying to stop the little girl from sucking her thumb, and Joan’s face turned a bright crimson when her daughter offered her saliva covered thumb to the mayor, much to his amusement.
“No, sweetie, you keep it,” the mayor said with a laugh from the crowd.
Samuel Manes was not a big man, nor an imposing figure. He was short, with white hair, an average build, with blue eyes. Kyle thought he looked like some kind of bird with his hooked nose and his angular face.
Samuel was not a native of Wolfpine. He moved to the town about five years ago and immediately won the election for mayor.
He said he grew up somewhere in Virginia and ran his own business. No one knew much more about Samuel. You never saw him with a wife and children, or a significant other.
He always dressed in designer suits and ties, even on hot days like today.
Samuel was an enigma, but the people of Wolfpine worshipped him. He turned this town from an oppressed former textile town, into a tourist attraction right off the Blue Ridge Parkway and in the heart of the Smoky Mountains.
The residents of the town had jobs, money, and could comfortably start families.
Then why didn’t Kyle trust the man who saved this town from failure? Kyle could feel it. He couldn’t see it, he couldn’t touch it, but he could feel a different vibe coming off Samuel.
A feeling was not proof of any wrongdoing. Kyle searched and searched the internet for Samuel after he ran for mayor and found nothing.
But he knew something was off about the man, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He could only wait and see how the town and how this man who came into power out nowhere played out.
Kyle rubbed his eyes as he waited for Samuel to finish greeting other parishioners before he made his appearance. Why would Samuel send food and other cold items to his small church? There were bigger places in town that he could have focused on.
Miranda caught Kyle’s attention after she greeted the mayor and Samuel handed the little girl back to her mother.
Kyle plastered a smile on his face and walked over to shake the mayor’s hand.
“Mr. Mayor,” Kyle said, “On behalf of myself and the church, thank you for your generosity in making our monthly gathering much easier with your gifts.”
Samuel smiled, and Kyle noticed teeth whiter than newly fallen snow. “You’re welcome, Reverend Ellis. I heard about your plumbing problems, and that you could only reserve this place at the last minute. The least I could do is make everyone more comfortable.”
“God shined his light down on us when the food and drinks arrived, Mr. Mayor,” Kyle said. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Kyle noticed a smirk appear on Samuel’s face, but he hid it before anyone else noticed.
“Where is your donation plate or basket? I would like to donate today to your fine church, Reverend,” Samuel said.
Kyle felt Miranda rush past him to find their donation basket. “Looks like my assistant is already on it, Mr. Mayor.”
Samuel’s assistant—Kyle couldn’t recall his name—approached and handed the mayor a checkbook. Samuel grabbed a pen and wrote out the check. Kyle couldn’t see how much it was, because Miranda was already by his side waiting for the donation.
She held out the basket and Samuel dropped the check through the slot. “Hopefully, this will help with the plumbing.”
“Very generous of you, Mr. Mayor, and God bless you,” Kyle said when Miranda grasped the basket like it was a newborn baby and grinned stupidly beside him.
Samuel nodded and smiled. Kyle let the rest of the parishioners have their time with the mayor and air their grievances.
Samuel stayed for another half hour before he apologized for having to cut the time short, and head back to his duties.
“You never liked him,” Markus said to Kyle.
Kyle was now holding Joan’s young daughter, while Joan gathered her things to leave. The little girl fell asleep in Kyle’s arms. Joan’s husband Matt was deployed and she could use all the help she could get with her daughter.
Kyle had hoped for this feeling one day, but it never happened. He doubted it ever would the way his life was heading.
“And I never will,” Kyle commented as he adjusted
the sleeping little girl on his shoulder.
“Found nothing on him,” Markus said.
“You never will,” Kyle answered.
Markus shrugged and said, “What about our current problem?”
“I’m meeting Miguel after everyone clears out. I will try again,” Kyle said.
“No answer?”
Kyle grabbed his phone and tapped his emails. Oh, no, he had an answer, and the answer was telling him to fuck off and stop emailing her.
He shook his head, and said, “Nothing.”
“It didn’t work the first time. Why do you think it’ll work again?”
Kyle tried to smile, but it was more out of sarcasm. “My faith. I have to keep Miguel hopeful too or he might do something rash.”
Markus nodded. “Do you need me there?”
Kyle shook his head. “No. I can handle it. I may have to take a drive this week and I might need you to watch her while I’m gone.”
Markus frowned. “Where will you go?”
“To visit this woman,” Kyle said.
Markus blinked in surprise. “Are you out of your damn mind? If she said no, she said no. You going there ain’t going to change her mind,” he scolded.
“She’s the only one who answered and she’s the closest. I’ve got to try,” Kyle said.
“You can try, but I think you’ll come back disappointed.”
Kyle shrugged. He spotted Joan approaching and nodded to Markus.
Markus turned and smiled at Joan as Kyle got lost in his thoughts.
He needed to try. He was trying to save a child.
Chapter 4
Journal Entry December 15, Mid-2000s
I’ve been searching for answers for a long time and finally found them in the name of Ben Herzberg and his wife Amanda. We talked on the phone for hours with Ben telling me about his history and how he came to realize his so-called gift.