Death Prophets

by Steve Armstrong

  Grace would have to leave work early for that, but after her brief exchange with Andrea, she knew her boss would approve of that arrangement. Though she considered pushing for a later date, sooner was better than later.

  “Yeah, that should work.”

  “Great. And was there anything specific you wanted to work on?”

  “I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and when I do sleep, I’ve been having some disturbing dreams. I’ve been having a hard time staying focused at work, too.”

  “Okay. We can definitely work on those things together.” Driscoll’s voice overflowed with optimism. See you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Grace set her phone down. She had held her end of the bargain with Matt Harrison. But had he held up his end? And if so, had he discovered anything of relevance? Tomorrow. She’d see him again tomorrow. By then, Grace would have another layer of detail in her sketch to show to him. But first, she had to dream. And to dream, she had to sleep.

  17

  Matt Harrison sat on a bench in the DMV, facing the first consequence of his brother’s deception. He pressed the Bluetooth earpiece tighter into his ear, poised to listen in on his brother’s conversations. But he wasn’t only interested in who might call his brother; now he wanted to know who John might call. John’s behavior at the station had been strange enough to warrant further suspicion. Perhaps John would call someone about Thomas Wilson; if he did, Matt would be ready.

  Already, Matt had intercepted one call to John. Julia had reached out to him earlier in the day to see how he was feeling. John confessed his indiscretion of going to work, which elicited a mild scolding from Julia. So at least he wasn’t lying to everyone. Julia informed him she’d be home around 7 p.m. and John promised to go home soon and rest. They ended the conversation by trading ‘I love you’s’.

  Matt felt a twinge of guilt for eavesdropping on their conversation. But Julia was in on the conspiracy; at least, she knew about Josh Williams and that something unusual had transpired the night John was shot. So Matt had to listen in on them. Fortunately, Matt didn’t expect to unintentionally eavesdrop on any phone sex between the two, given their religious convictions. Of course, what people did in the privacy of their own homes or cell phones often bucked expectations. Matt had learned that lesson well over his years as a PI.

  The electronic system announcing whose turn was next called the number right before Matt’s. A heavyset man with glasses shuffled up to the counter, his voice irritated over the thirty minute wait time. Just as the DMV clerk answered in an apathetic monotone, John placed another call. Matt sat at attention as if that action would enable him to hear the ensuing conversation more clearly.

  “Hi,” a female voice answered after the fourth ring.

  “Hi, Felicia.”

  Felicia Monroe. She had been at the top of the list of potential conspirators for John to be in league with. But why her? From the admittedly small sample size of information Matt had to draw upon, she seemed to know even more than John’s fellow officers.

  The present silence between the two felt pregnant with meaning.

  “How are you?” John asked.

  “I’m okay. How about you? Are you okay? I heard you went home.” Her voice was softer than when her eyes blazed at Matt, just a few days earlier.

  “I did. And I feel fine, so far.”

  “Good.”

  Another moment of silence.

  “Did you know Thomas Wilson was dead?” John asked.

  “No. When?”

  “Same night I was shot.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was crushed by a van, just a few streets from Mike Sullivan’s apartment. Probably not even thirty minutes after everything else went down.”

  “Crushed?” Felicia’s voice revealed her continued surprise at these details. “As in he was underneath the van?”

  “Yeah. And the van belonged to Stevenson Industries.”

  Another pause.

  “Do you think Josh Williams was involved?” Felicia asked.

  “Do I think he caused the accident? I don’t know. Maybe. I really don’t know what his limits are. At the very least, they must have been tracking him. What else would Wilson have been doing there?”

  “I don’t know,” Felicia said.

  The rapid pace of the conversation introduced too many questions for Matt to keep track of. Fortunately, Felicia’s and John’s dialogue would be automatically saved on Matt’s phone and he could review it later.

  “Have you spoken to your uncle lately?” John asked.

  “We haven’t spoken since everything happened. Even if we did, I don’t think he’d tell me anything that’s going on.”

  They went silent again. Felicia spoke next.

  “John, your brother came to see me Saturday. He wanted to know what happened the night you got shot. He thought the official report seemed suspicious.”

  “Yeah, I know. He asked me about it, too. Did you tell him anything?”

  “No. But I think he’ll find out what happened eventually. Maybe you should just tell him. You’re just making it more tantalizing by keeping it a secret.”

  “I can’t risk that. Matt’s crazy enough to go after Williams if he thinks Williams is a threat to me. Besides, I don’t even know if Matt will believe me if I told him what Williams is capable of. The truth about this one is pretty strange.”

  “Then just tell him that Josh Williams isn’t any threat.”

  “I don’t know if he’ll believe that, either.”

  “Do you believe it?” Her voice grew tenuous.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard to know what Josh Williams will or won’t do. Maybe he’s disappeared and we’ll never see him again.”

  “You’re not going after him, are you?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice. He killed two people and now maybe a third. And he hurt you. I don’t think we can just let him run free out there.”

  “How are you going to track him?” Felicia asked.

  At that moment, Matt’s number popped up on the DMV screen. He stood up and walked toward the clerk, but slowly, as he wanted to hear his brother’s plans.

  “I’m going to Thomas Wilson’s accident scene tomorrow when it’s light out,” John said.

  “I’ll come, too.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to. Maybe afterward, I can ask my uncle what happened. If I confront him with specific facts, he might be more likely to talk.”

  The clerk monitored Matt’s slow progress, drumming her fingers against her desk. Matt flashed her a fake smile and held up his finger, secretly enjoying the irony of the DMV clerk waiting for him.

  “Are you still seeing Julia?” John asked.

  “Yeah, once a week.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It helps me,” Felicia said.

  “Good.”

  One final pause.

  “Sir, if you don’t get up to this counter right now, I’m going to call the next number,” the clerk threatened, her arms crossed.

  Matt complied and picked up his pace as John and Felicia finalized their plan to meet in the morning and traded goodbyes.

  “Now what was so important that you’re holding up my line?” the clerk asked.

  “Sorry, I was listening in on my brother’s conversation,” Matt said matter of factly. The clerk raised her eyebrow. “What, you don’t bug your siblings? You should consider it. Very entertaining. And informative.”

  The clerk shrugged off Matt’s comments and moved to the business at hand. As she finalized his request, received his fifteen dollars, and printed out the report, Matt reflected on what he had just heard. Yes, the conversation about Josh Williams was intriguing, though not very enlightening. Matt still didn’t understand why John and Felicia spoke of him in such hushed tones.

  But Matt’s mind focused on a different mystery: John’s and Felicia’s relationship. Surely, his honorable brother
wasn’t dancing around an illicit relationship. But the pregnant pauses, soft voices, and disclosure of family secrets all pointed to something beyond a basic work relationship—especially given the fact they didn’t really work together! John had broken the ninth commandment already that day; maybe he was being tempted to break number six, too.

  Whatever the case, Matt would join the two when they visited the place where Thomas Wilson died. Matt didn’t feel like staying in the dark any longer or participating in some silly charade of pretending not to possess at least an inkling of what was really going on.

  18

  Josh Williams sat in a park at night. Tucked away from the main part of town and far away from the closest street light, he waited for his mysterious texter to emerge. Williams was half curious, half fearful. The last month—when various people had tried to track him down and imprison him—had made Williams even more paranoid than he was before. Maybe Stevenson Industries was closing in on him. He hadn’t cleared their radius of influence yet, if such a distance even existed to begin with. They sought to harness the power his abilities hinted at. But the police might be pursuing him, too. Williams was a killer and, depending on people’s definitions, a rapist. Maybe Detective John Harrison couldn’t prove either fact to be true, but the policeman had witnessed the killing and Felicia Monroe could testify regarding the sexual assault. Perhaps Williams deserved to be in prison.

  As he considered his tenuous position, Williams heard footsteps from the path that curved off to the left into a grove of well-spaced maples. A silhouette came into view. Williams sat upright as the shadow became substance. A man, still barely visible, stopped ten feet from the bench.

  “Josh Williams, we meet, at last,” the man said. He seemed Caucasian and stood close to six feet. He wore a winter cap over his head and warmed his hands in his pockets.

  “Who are you?” Williams asked.

  “I’ve had lots of names over the years. Right now, I prefer Parker. Do you mind if I sit?”

  Williams stared apprehensively at this stranger, who promised knowledge but might have offered danger, too.

  “That’s okay, I’ll stand. I get it. I have trust issues, too,” Parker said when Josh didn’t respond.

  “Who are you?” Williams asked again, wanting more than a name this time.

  “I think this is the best introduction I can give you.” Parker fixed his gaze on a sizable stone lying on the side of the path; instantly, the rock rose five feet in the air and hung there, suspended in air. Williams leaned forward, shifting to the edge of the bench.

  “How are you doing that?” he asked.

  “I’m like you. We have the same powers.”

  “But I can’t do that. At least, not like you did. I need to be really angry or really want something before I can use my power. I can’t just think something and make it happen.”

  Parker smiled. “That’s because you haven’t learned how to control your powers, yet. But you will, one day.”

  A thousand questions flitted through Josh’s mind. “You have to see something to affect it, right?”

  “More or less. But I bet I see way more than you do.”

  Parker sat down on the bench. Now that he was closer, Williams could make out some of the details of Parker’s face. The lines beneath his eyes suggested he was at least a decade older, maybe more, though he still retained somewhat of a youthful appearance. His face was scruffy and there was a mirth in his eyes that indicated he was enjoying this exchange.

  “How do I learn to control it?” Josh asked.

  “It’s all up here.” Parker tapped his right index finger against his temple. “Your powers never leave you. They’re always available to you. But your mind stops seeing the world through the lens of what you’re capable of. It’s like it reverts back to what it considers normal. But you aren’t normal, even if your brain wants to think otherwise.”

  “So when I learn to control them, I can use my powers only when I want to?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Parker replied. As he said these words, the entire bench they sat on rose into the air, too. Josh gripped the bench tightly, drawing an expression of delight from Parker. Gradually, they dropped back done to the ground.

  “Gives a whole new definition of bench press, doesn’t it?” Parker asked, grinning.

  But Josh couldn’t feel quite so glib about his powers. He looked down at his hands. He remembered Felicia Monroe’s terrified expression as he pushed her down against the bed with his mind. And then there was Jessie. They were supposed to start a new life together, but the manifestation of his abilities had pushed her away, even as they physically dragged her closer.

  “My power has made me do things I didn’t want to do,” Josh said.

  Parker smiled and shook his head. “No, it never did. Whatever you did, you did because you wanted to.”

  Josh recoiled from the man sitting next to him. “You think I wanted to do those awful things?”

  “Well, I don’t know what awful things you’re talking about, but yes, I do. Your power is just a power, like electricity. It’s neutral, neither good nor bad. You provide the application. But it does attach itself to your will.” Parker stared off into the middle distance. “See, you and I are unique cases in this world. A lot of people want to do bad things, or at least imagine doing them, but they fear the consequences of following through on their desires or lack the capacity to accomplish them. We’re not like that. We can do almost whatever we set our mind to.”

  Josh stared at him. “There must be limits, right? I mean, we can’t do anything we want.”

  “Yeah, you’re right to an extent. To my knowledge, I can’t bring down an airplane or move a building.”

  “Did you throw the van on the guy from Stevenson Industries?” Josh asked.

  Parker smiled. “Yes, that was me, alright. You’ve probably never thrown a car, have you?”

  Josh shook his head. But he had felt his power growing during the ordeal with Jessie Walters and her abusive boyfriend and it frightened him.

  “Where do we come from?” Josh asked. “What made us the way we are?”

  Parker held up his hand, palm facing Josh. “Not too much at once. I’ve made the mistake of oversharing before. Got someone else in trouble.”

  “Someone else like us?” Josh asked.

  Parker nodded.

  “So there are others who can do the things we can?”

  “Oh, yes. Not a lot more, but there are others out there. One day, I hope I’ll discover more.” Parker looked down at his hands, which he rubbed together. “But for the meantime, you need to work on harnessing your own powers.”

  “How?”

  “Feed the beast. Stop trying to hold back. But you’re already starting to do that, aren’t you?” He looked Josh in the eye. “That was you who dropped the sign on that guy in Windfall, wasn’t it?”

  Josh nodded slowly. “How’d you know?”

  “I’ve been watching you a bit,” Parker admitted. “Don’t worry. I don’t stalk your every move or anything. But when I read the story in the paper, I put two and two together.”

  Josh looked away, embarrassed he’d been caught.

  Parker grinned. “I appreciate the creativity, but I’ve learned to do things a little cleaner. Just the right force to someone’s throat will suffocate them. It’s almost untraceable.”

  Josh squirmed on the bench, resisting a deep-seated urge to learn how to better apply his powers to killing.

  “Why him?” Parker asked.

  “He beat his girlfriend. He wouldn’t stop. I stopped him.”

  “You sure did. That’s good. Everyone needs a crusade. I’m working on one myself. But you need to be careful. You’re not bulletproof. You can be hurt. You can be killed. Pick your spots. That’s the biggest reason you have to learn to control your abilities. You can’t just blow up in public and let everyone know what you can do, as tempting as that might be.”

  A rustling in the bushes drew both of their a
ttention to a nearby thicket. The sound was slight, perhaps caused by a raccoon or possum. Parker looked back at Josh, dismissing the distraction.

  “And Stevenson Industries is going to keep coming after you if they can find you. Just because I killed one of their lackeys doesn’t mean they’re going to stop. They have nearly unlimited financial resources, and now that they know you’re out there, they won’t stop searching for you.”

  Parker stood up. He looked at the rock again and it dropped to the ground with a thud.

  “And one more thing. Get laid. Sex will help even out your desires.”

  Josh glanced up at Parker; his eyes were serious.

  “Yeah, I know you’re scared of that, too. But once you get over that, life will be easier. I found that drugs help, too. They even you out. Nothing hard, just a little pot or something.” Parker smiled. “Okay, I think I’ve dispensed enough life wisdom for now. I’ll be in touch. Stay safe.”

  Parker gave Josh a quick salute, then disappeared down the winding path into the grove of trees. Josh watched him leave, wondering what kind of role model he had found. Parker was a killer but then so was Josh. The man seemed well-adjusted, at ease with his abilities. At the very least, Parker had already been down this path before. This man with the unknown past was the only potential mentor Josh knew. And at this current impasse of his unique life, where discovering some extraordinary purpose or going off the rails completely seemed equally possible, Josh had nowhere else to turn. Perhaps it was time for him to get a little high and get laid—however people went about doing that.

  19

  In the throes of another sleepless night, Grace retreated to the soft glow of her computer screen. A message awaited her, sent via the paranormal website forum where she had asked for help understanding her dreams. The message originated from a user identified as Regression51. It said simply, I’ve had the same kind of dreams. Grace stared at the message’s time stamp. It had arrived within the last hour. Maybe he or she was still awake.