by D. W. Brown
“I was just concerned about Mr. Black, so I thought I’d look in on him.” Turning to Kevin, he said, “What happened anyhow, Mr. Black? The grocery store manager found you all laid out in the parking lot, said it looked like you fell.”
“Something tells me that you know very well what happened, just like you know what happened to Jordan Billingsley.” Kevin replied.
“Amanda Billingsley has you brainwashed too, I see. I hear you’re leaving town, Mr. Black. It’s probably for the best—might want to take that lady friend of yours with you. Folk around here…”
“Save it! I’m tired of hearing how the people in this sorry town don’t like being accused of this or that! Frankly, I don’t give a crap what you like or don’t like!” Kevin had to fight against every nerve in him to keep from jumping out of the back of the ambulance and tearing into the smug punk. He’d seen plenty of people like Judd Wilkinson, and the last one he’d come across ended up at the bottom of a canyon with his body burned beyond recognition. He pictured himself doing the same to Judd.
“Careful, Mr. Black. Words like that can get you in trouble around these parts.”
“Just leave, Judd. Mr. Black needs some medical treatment and he’ll be on his way.”
“Easy baby brother. I was just being friendly. Goodbye Mr. Black. Hope to meet up with you again real soon.”
“I’ve got your friendly. Why don’t you come up here and I’ll show it to you!” Kevin said as he started getting up.
“Relax. The last thing you need is to get into another fight.” To his brother, Judd, he said, “Are you finished? Always causing trouble—what is it with you, Judd?”
“Not everyone can go around playing Florence Nightingale all the time, Josh. Some of us actually have a life, you know.”
“I’d love to sit around and catch up on the good ole days, but I’ve got a patient to take care of—you know, real life stuff. Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not something you know anything about, is it, Judd? Dad has always given you everything.”
As Kevin listened to the exchange between the two brothers, he felt a sense of déjà vu. Long ago, he had a similar relationship with his brother Wayne. The only difference was that he’d taken matters into his own hands. And in the end, his life was undeniable better—at least for a season or two. He no longer had to constantly look over his shoulder, and it did silence the humming for quite a few years.
The slamming of the back doors brought him back to the present. “I can see why you don’t talk to him very often. I thought twins were supposed to have some sort of inseparable bond. What happened with you two?”
“He happened. Judd has always been an irresponsible troublemaker. The problem is that our loving father is just like him. They don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want. But that’s enough of my family problems, Mr. Black. You appear to be okay: no internal bleeding that I can tell, and no broken bones. You might have trouble walking upright for a while, but you’ll survive.”
“You have to help me, man. You know what’s happening around here, don’t you?”
“Just go, Mr. Black.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. What is the connection between this hum and all of those people that heard it during the investigation they conducted back in the early 90’s? Why are they all either in prison, a mental ward, or dead?”
“Look, I can’t help you, Mr. Black. Go now!”
Kevin tried protesting, even grabbing onto the bed to keep Josh from pushing him out the back of the ambulance, but the injuries he’d sustained in the attack didn’t allow him to put up too much of a fight. He found himself staring at two closed doors despite his efforts.
Hobbling over to his car, Kevin gingerly sat down in the driver’s seat. His head was spinning from the walk, and his mouth had instantly dried up like the majority of the grass around the state of New Mexico. Now that he’d met the infamous Judd Wilkinson, he had no doubt that the punk had raped Amanda’s sister when she was younger, and had probably killed her when she came back to town. But he couldn’t do anything about that. He had to keep Amanda safe now, had to help her get healthy again.
* * *
“Dad, I just had a little talk with Mr. Black, and I think that one might be trouble for us. He appears to have taken a liking to Amanda, and from the things he said, she knows quite a bit more than we thought.” Judd Wilkinson said to his father.
“Don’t worry about Mr. Black. In his weak state of mind, he’s pretty unstable. It shouldn’t be too hard to get a man fresh out of the psycho ward to break. After all, we have an ace in the hole that he’s not aware of.” “Danny and Jacob already gave him a pretty good beating at the market earlier today, but I think it only
strengthened his resolve.”
“I’ll talk to Sheriff Bowman and ensure he keeps the pressure on him. Mr. Black doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll be working for us soon.”
“There could one little problem with that.” “What’s that?”
“Your other son, Josh, was there and he might’ve told Mr. Black everything that’s going on. He might get in the way.”
“Leave Josh to me. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to handle Josh too?” Judd asked.
“You worry me sometimes, Judd. You seem to enjoy killing people a little too much at times. I hope you’re able to gain control of it soon. I used to be like you, but I learned to harness that desire to take another person’s life. If you don’t do the same, you could end up losing it all.”
“I can handle myself, Daddy. What’s wrong with me enjoying the thrill of taking another man’s life? It’s the greatest rush I’ve ever experienced, and trust me when I tell you that I’ve tried them all.”
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, Judd. I’m just telling you that you have to control it and not let it take you over. That kind of power can darken a man’s soul. Remember what we’re doing here. We’re the good guys.”
“I know that, father, but we’ve been dealing with Josh’s weakness for almost three decades now. We’ve given him numerous chances to change, to come over to our side. He’s just not going to do it, Father. It’s not my dark side you need to worry about, it’s your other son’s good side.”
“Look, I said I’d handle it. Now pour me another shot of Brandy and give me some time alone.”
Judd didn’t like being dismissed like one of the many servants around the ranch where they lived. He liked his father’s stance on his brother Josh even less. It was past time to get rid of him, before he took them all down and ruined everything. Even though Josh had moved out and was now renting a place downtown, he still knew all about the town’s history: the infamous study, the murders, even the source of the mysterious hum. And that was simply too much information for someone who was for all intents and purposes considered Judd’s enemy.
As he stood outside his father’s door stewing in his anger, Judd knew he needed to kill all of them. He couldn’t allow his brother to jeopardize everything they’d spent so many years investing in. He simply had to be eliminated.
Smiling, Judd walked out to his own office. Seated behind his large desk with his boots on the windowsill looking outside, he could make out the outer rim of the Pit. Most foreigners thought it just a simple sink hole, but they knew nothing of the power coming out of that Pit. He regularly spent time seated around it, as did the majority of people around town. At least until they were ordered to go elsewhere, to take care of certain things. Fortunately, Judd and his family had never been called to leave. They were considered its keepers, its protectors if you will. The priest had given them the task of ensuring it was fed, that it continued to grow, to feast. It was a job that Judd was willing to do anything to uphold, and he’d already proven so on numerous occasions.
A
familiar feeling began to make its way into Judd’s heart. The Pit required another one to momentarily satisfy its insatiable appetite. Judd smiled, because he had just the candidate in mind. They never knew when the next one would be required, so it was perfect timing. With renewed vigor in his step, he spun around in his seat and started punching in numbers on his office phone. Thirty minutes later, he headed into his bedroom to shower and prepare for the nights activities.
CHAPTER 20
Chasing after a murderer wasn’t something Russell Jent was accustomed to in his current position. No one had been killed in his town for nearly eight years. It didn’t help things in the least that the victim was one of his own deputies. Larry Carlson had worked with him for the last five years, choosing to leave his home out west and settle down in the quite town of Wise, Virginia.
Russell smiled at the recollection of his first encounter with Larry. Larry came in, applied for the deputy position, and then he went into town and rented an apartment. The position was more important to him than a place to stay. That was the way Larry viewed life too. He wanted to help people, to protect them. He didn’t care about his own wellbeing, as long as the law was being upheld. Russell wiped a tear from his eye—he wasn’t accustomed to crying, but he also wasn’t accustomed to people murdering his deputies, and friends.
The driver of the older model car in front of him was swerving all over the place, going in speeds excess of 90 miles per hour, and had already ran two vehicles off the road. Russell knew he needed to stop the man quickly, before more innocent people got hurt. He just hoped he’d be able to control his anger once he met up with the man—right now all he wanted to do was take his life in exchange for Deputy Carlson’s.
Using the same move they’d taught him at the academy, Russell clipped the left rear quarter panel of the car just enough to send it spinning into the side of the mountain on the right. Once the dust and smoke cleared, he jumped out with his weapon drawn, and headed over to the assailants smashed up vehicle. The entire front four feet of the vehicle was now compacted into the back, and the driver was forced into the rear bench seat from the force of the engine.
“Get out of the car and put your hands up!” Russell said with his weapon pointed at the perpetrator’s head.
The driver looked over at him confused and dumbfounded. Slowly, he reached up and wiped the blood dripping from his forehead out of his eyes. “What… what happened?”
“Open your door slowly, and get out of your car, mister!”
The driver did as he was told, as if in a daze. Once he was a few feet from the vehicle, Russell went around to his back and kicked his legs out from underneath him. Holstering his weapon, he then started kicking the man repeatedly.
“Please, stop. I’m sorry for killing that man. I…I had to do something to stop the humming in my head.” By this time, Russell had made his way around
to the man’s front and had his fist drawn back for a crushing blow to the side of his head. He stopped mid strike, when he heard the man mention the humming. Quite a few years had passed since he’d brought in the killer from the service station for murdering not only the four workers there, but also his wife, kids, and two other people. At the time, he thought the man insane like everyone else claiming the voices inside their head made them do it. Now, he was no longer sure.
“What did you say?” Russell asked the perpetrator, stopping just before his knuckles smashed into the man’s face.
“Officer, I need help. I keep hearing this strange humming sound in my head, and it won’t stop until… until I hurt people. I didn’t want to kill your friend back there, but it was the only way. The headaches have been unreal—I’ve pounded my head against the wall so many times that I’ve given myself a concussion. I didn’t know what else to do. It’s never enough. It’s almost like it wants me to kill for it. I’m telling you, it’s the only relief I get. The problem is that it doesn’t last for long. It always demands more. Please help me. Lock me up, take me in. Shoot me if you have to. If it will make it all go away, then I’ll take it. I’m begging you, Officer.”
Pulling the man back onto his feet, Russell removed his weapon and said, “Don’t tempt me.”
The perpetrator reached out and slowly guided Russell’s gun over to his temple. “Go ahead; anything to make it stop.”
All of the anger that he’d felt towards the man turned to pity in that instant, and it left Russell wondering how to proceed. Once again, he had the urge to console a murderer, but this time his anger over the loss of his murdered deputy won out. He put his weapon inside his holster and brought out the cuffs.
Placing the now handcuffed prisoner in the back of his police car, Russell took his seat up front and called the station to inform them that he was bringing the killer in. Over his shoulder, he asked the man, “How long have you been hearing this humming sound, mister?”
“It started when I turned sixteen. There was this senior in my school that liked to pick on us smarter kids, and one day him and a few of his bullying friends cornered me after school. They took turns punching me in the head and stomach, and at some point the humming set in. It wouldn’t stop after that. The funny thing was that it only occurred when I was near him.
The headaches were so intense that I had to do something to stop it all. Since the older boy normally hid out in the bushes and attacked me on my way home, I decided to carry a knife with me. Fortunately, he was by himself on this particular day. The details of it all are still a bit fuzzy, but I remember stabbing him over and over again, until he was no longer moving.”
“Did the police lock you up?”
“That’s the weird part—the boy’s body disappeared and no one ever mentioned him again. I started thinking that I’d blanked out and hidden his body somewhere, and feared that any day the police would show up and haul my butt off to jail. But it never happened. It’s almost as if the boy was never even a resident in Taos, or a student at Taos High School. When I asked a couple of my friends about him one day, they looked at me all weird, like I’d lost my mind. Over the next few years, I think I really did start to lose my mind.”
Sitting there in the front seat with another murderer confessing his crimes behind him, Russell was taken back to the service station incident, and he immediately remembered Kevin Black saying he’d murdered his own brother in Taos, New Mexico. He was beginning to wonder what was going on in the town. It had to be more than coincidence for two entirely different people to be hearing this strange hum which ultimately caused them to kill. When he’d heard Kevin’s confession all those years ago, he’d experienced a mixture of emotions, but never once did he seriously consider the man’s claims about the hum being true. Was he wrong?
“Have you been back to Taos since you moved away, mister?”
“I tried once, but when I got within fifty feet of the state, the headaches became so intense I couldn’t cross the line. It became pretty obvious that the town didn’t want me there, because my head eased off as soon as I turned around. I even tested it by trying to come back a day or two later, and sure enough my head felt like it was about to explode. Have you ever experienced a migraine before, Officer?”
“Only on one occasion. Right after the attack on the twin towers, September 11th, 2001. The pain was so intense that I actually buried my head in the cushion of the couch, just to get some relief. I’ll never forget that day—I’ve always wondered what the connection was between my pounding head and the attacks.”
“I’ve had migraines before too, Officer, but it’s nothing compared to this humming. It will make you lose your mind—you’ll do anything. Unfortunately, even murder.”
With his mind spinning, Russell drove the rest of the way to the station in deep thought. What was going on in Taos? Two killers from the same town, both committing horrific murders, both claiming to have heard the same humming sound, and both e
xperiencing extreme headaches.
As soon as he processed the man, Russell logged onto the criminal database and started looking for connections between crime rates in the United States and the city of Taos. His search yielded five pages of murders all over the country, and two more pages spreading across the entire globe. Sitting up a little straighter in his seat, he could feel his pulse beating faster. Something was definitely going on in that small town, and he planned to find out what it was. Why were so many people from that place killing people all over the world? Why wasn’t his latest killer able to go back there?
For the next four straight hours, Russell and his two remaining deputies divvied up the seven pages of names and began the tedious chore of charting them all across the globe. A good hour of that time was spent finding a map which depicted every country. Once they finished listing the murders and drew corresponding lines back to Taos, the brunt of what they were dealing with really settled in.
Feeling a little overwhelmed, Russell got on the phone with an old friend of his from the FBI, Dean Mason. They’d worked together for almost eight years, until Russell left the Bureau for a quieter life as the Sheriff of the small town of Wise. He’d grown up there, and after handling hundreds of cases out in D.C., he’d decided that life wasn’t for him. He didn’t feel that he was cut out for city life, or the hideous crimes that went on there. And now, here he was back in the middle of what might possibly be the biggest one yet.
“Hello Dean. It’s Russell Jent.”
“Russ? How the heck are you, old buddy? What has it been, seven years?”
“Eight. And I’m doing fine. Well, I was doing fine, until some psycho came into town and killed one of my men.”
“Sorry to hear that, man. Didn’t you hand that mass murderer over to the Bureau not more than a year after you moved back there? What was his name? Kevin…Kevin something?”