by D. W. Brown
Knowing exactly what Kevin was referring to, Father Gregory smiled and said, “And what a reward it will be, Kevin. It’s beyond anything you could ever fathom.”
* * *
“They served their purpose by killing countless numbers of people, and at some point, they’re offered to that thing as human sacrifices. Mr. Black is no different; once he’s completed the mission they’ve given him, that creature you saw will feast on his heart too.” “But how? How can this thing make them jump
into that hole? And why?”
“That’s the part I’m not too sure about just yet. But I believe it has something to do with the humming sound emanating from Taos. Initially, I thought it had something to do with aliens, since it’s in the vicinity of Roswell, but now I believe this thing goes back even before all of the UFO rumors spread throughout our country.”
“I’m not following you.” Russell said perplexed. “Remember earlier when I asked you how well you
knew your Bible?”
“Yes. But I fail to see what my Bible has to do with what’s going on here.”
“The Sadducees and Pharisees, my friend—it all goes back to them. Their evil desires have brought this thing to our doorstep, and we’ve got to figure out a way to stop it. Sheriff, you are in grave danger; you and your wife both.”
Realizing they’d be on the ground soon, Russell said, “I appreciate everything you’ve told me, Gary, but when we land, it’s important that we part ways as if we don’t know each other.”
“You need my help in this, Sheriff. This thing has more connections than you can fathom. Here’s my cell number. Call me if you run into any problems.”
Russell took the business card that Gary was holding out in front of him, but at this point in time, he had no intentions of bringing someone else in on this and possibly getting Sam killed. Once she was safe, that was a different story. He planned to pick the man’s brain a little more about the madness emanating from Taos, and spreading throughout the country.
* * *
Feeling the beginnings of another headache threatening to overtake him, Kevin once again forced all doubt from his mind. He had to view this simply as survival—he either killed the Sheriff and his wife, or he’d pay for it with the blasted headaches. Oh, how he envied the people that never had to deal with a migraine. They didn’t know how fortunate they really were. How a simple thing like a headache could incapacitate you like that, he had no idea. What he did know was that he’d do whatever was necessary to prevent having to deal with another one.
The small number of passengers out today made Kevin wonder if the area really even needed an airport. It was the same way when he’d flown in earlier that morning. Even the two eat-in restaurants inside the place were closed, and appeared to have been that way for quite some time. Had it been during the week, this might not have been a big deal, but Saturday was probably the most traveled day of the week.
Checking the screen, Kevin found the incoming flights from New Mexico and headed to the gate to search for the Sheriff’s FBI friend, Dean Mason. He’d committed Dean’s face to memory when Sheriff Jent turned him over to the FBI in Wise many years ago. Their chumminess told Kevin they were close, making him the obvious choice for Russell to call on for help.
Kevin waited for the rabbit—Dean Mason—to walk into his trap. If he was somehow caught instead, Kevin knew the FBI would treat him like any other package from the postal service, only he’d get handcuffs instead of a stamp, and he’d be shipped off to the loony bin instead of someone’s home address. Smiling, Kevin thought, Agent Mason, you’re about to get a big surprise. You’ll be the only package delivered today— delivered straight to the morgue.
Spotting an unattended hat lying on top of a newspaper, Kevin quickly snatched it up on his way to gate
15B. Once he got there, he took a seat along the back wall and pulled the visor down low to conceal his face. A few minutes later, the attendant announced the arrival of flight 1134 from New Mexico. He spied Sheriff Jent depart the plane, and wasn’t surprised to see him alone. These FBI types were smart enough not to travel together. He surmised the Sheriff’s friend would arrive on a later flight—he just hoped it wouldn’t be too much later. He needed to get back, so he could set up a meeting to get rid of the Sheriff, along with his wife.
The next incoming flight from New Mexico was set to arrive in two hours, so Kevin headed to the nearest vending machine and donated five dollars for a soda and a Cheese Danish. He loved the taste of them, but rarely ate the 500 calorie waist extender. Since he’d skipped lunch altogether, he didn’t think it would affect him too much. Besides, who was he trying to impress?
Just as he was finishing his pastry, Kevin received a call from Sheriff Jent. Choosing to let it go to voicemail, he waited until his phone started vibrating, indicative of a new message.
“I don’t have time for games, Mr. Black! Answer your phone! I’m here in Wise. When and where?”
Knowing he needed to stall the good Sheriff for a bit, Kevin texted back: Sheriff, I’ve decided it would be best to meet at night. Wouldn’t want people seeing me hold a gun to your wife’s head, now would we?
Within seconds, Kevin received a response: I will kill you, if you hurt her, Mr. Black! Do you understand? This is nonsense! We can meet at my place—you already know the location—my nearest neighbor is nearly a half mile down the road.
Smiling, Kevin texted back: Nice try, Sheriff, but I
can’t take the chance. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit to
show up there and be surrounded by every policeman in the state of Virginia. I’ll call you as soon as it gets dark, and give you the time and place.
Not bothering to read Sheriff Jent’s reply, Kevin closed his cell, threw away the wrapper from his fat pill, and heading back over to the gate. He wanted to be in position long before Agent Dean Mason stepped off the plane, so he could enact his plan of attack. Looking at his watch, he was surprised to see that the next flight was only fifteen minutes out. His nerves were on edge, but there was also something else hidden underneath: excitement.
The man dressed in the black slacks with white t-shirt looked more than a little out of place as he departed flight 1575 from New Mexico. Kevin smiled at the FBI agent’s attempt to disguise himself. Even with the sunglasses covering his eyes, everything about him screamed, I work for the Bureau.
Waiting until the agent rounded the corner, Kevin followed at a distance. He could already feel his heart pick up pace, sensing the thrill of what he was about to do. Killing wasn’t something he embraced, at least not until he was actually committing the act. Even stabbing his wife in the back gave him a sense of power, of control beyond anything he’d ever experienced. And it only grew in intensity with each one that followed. His boss’s son was probably the most joyful, because the hum had him convinced that the loser truly deserved it, and was right.
Slowly, Kevin began piecing together his life’s puzzle: he’d grown up in Taos and moved after murdering his own brother; settling in Michigan, he met, fell in love with his wife, and killed her there; briefly rolled through Illinois but found nothing there to hold his attention; moving to West Virginia, he took a job as a salesman and killed his boss’s son there; before moving further south, he killed his cheating girlfriend, and then he robbed the service station in Virginia. And now here he was—his life had come full circle; he was somehow led right back into that same cavern, and on his way back to Taos.
His past, the baggage carousel, the hugs and kisses shared between friends and families, even the golf cart with the flashing red light attempting to run him down, were just background noise to Kevin at this point. He was honing in on his target, readying himself to satisfy the thing he’d met down in the tunnel.
Taking up position near the exit door, Kevin waited for the agent to retrieve his ba
g.
CHAPTER 33
When the sturdy black suitcase came rolling out of the conveyor, Kevin immediately began wondering what kind of weaponry the agent might be lugging around with him. He’d read somewhere that the boys from the Bureau preferred the 9mm Glock as their weapon of choice, but the sheer size of the agent’s bag screamed something larger, with more firepower. The trick for Kevin was to take the man’s life before he managed to use whatever was inside that bag against him.
Through the double glass doors of the baggage claim area, Kevin looked on as the agent hailed a cab and took a seat in the back.
Making his way over to the same cabbie, he rapped lightly on the window and waited for the driver to open it.
“Yes?” asked the cabbie.
“I’m in a real hurry. Is there any way I could share this cab with that man back there?”
Looking over his right shoulder, the cabbie said, “Do you mind if he rides along, mister?”
The man looked familiar to Dean, but he couldn’t quite place him. “Sure. Makes no difference to me.”
“Thanks much for allowing me to share this fare with you. I’m Greg Spencer.” Kevin said with his hand outstretched. He still kept his head low, hoping between that and the hat he’d lifted, the Agent wouldn’t recognize him. He knew his case had made news nationwide, but since no one had recognized him thus far, he didn’t worry too much.
“Dean Mason. And you’re welcome. It’s really no big deal. Where are you heading?”
“To the nearest hotel. I have some business here in the morning, so I’m looking for a place to get some rest and a good drink.” Kevin replied, for Dean as well as the waiting cab driver.
“Hey, me too. I’ve got something going on later tonight, but I have to agree a cold brew sure does sound great right now.”
“The closest hotel is the Hyatt, but they’re pretty expensive. You might fare better going a couple miles down the street to the Holiday Inn Express. Their rooms are clean, and they offer free breakfast. More importantly, they offer two free long necks every Saturday night inside the lounge there. So what will it be gentlemen?” The cabbie offered.
Looking over at Dean, Kevin said, “The Express sounds good to me. What about you? Up for some company with your beverage of choice?”
“Sounds good. Hopefully I won’t get called away.”
Smiling inside, Kevin thought, oh, you’ll definitely get a call, a call to the grave. He couldn’t believe how smoothly everything was falling in place. The boys from the Bureau could definitely use a little work on their detective skills.
At the check-in counter, Dean said, “You didn’t bring a bag?”
“The airlines lost it, of course.” Kevin replied, thinking quick on his feet.
With keys in hand, both men separated and agreed to meet back downstairs in five minutes. Kevin turned and pretended to head in the direction of his make-believe room, but as soon as Dean went to put the key into his door, Kevin whacked him over the head with his recently acquired .45 pistol. Turning the doorknob, he then dragged the agent’s body inside.
* * *
Russell flung his phone across the seat of his cruiser where it smacked into the passenger side door. He quickly retrieved it, kicking himself for doing such a stupid thing in the first place. It was his only communication with Mr. Black, and damaging it meant he might never hear Sam’s sweet voice again. Pulling over to the side of the road, he inspected the gadget, thanking God that it still functioned properly. He wasn’t sure where to go or what to do with his time or his mind. The only thing that he could think about was Sam and the kids. At least his children were safe.
He quickly phoned his mom again, so he could hear their voices. Five minutes later, Russell had tears streaming down his face, sitting in his idling car, listening to his children ask about their mommy. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he’d actually cried like this, maybe back in grade school when his dad tore into him for calling his sixth grade teacher a whore. In his defense, she wore very skimpy clothing and constantly talked about the men in her life. Still, the beating his dad gave him made him regret his desire to impress his friends with his bold use of the language forbidden for children.
Thinking back to that time, Russell couldn’t fathom how he ended up with the FBI, or as a Sheriff in the same town that he regularly broke the law in as a youngster. He did it all as a rebellious teenager: smoked weed, drank beer and whiskey—which his dad regularly partook of himself—and he’d even gotten expelled once for selling his father’s pornographic magazines at school. The latter ended up being a pretty lucrative business venture for a short four weeks. The young boys at his middle school were willing to pay upwards of ten dollars a copy, and since his dad kept basket upon basket of them in open view at home, Russell had quite the inventory.
His life always came back to Sam, the tiny five foot brunette he’d met in college almost a decade ago. Thanks to her, he managed to turn his life around. He found God and actually began to understand responsibility. He still couldn’t believe with all of his awkwardness around the opposite sex, how he managed to catch the eye of the most beautiful girl on campus.
Speeding forward in time, Russell remembered his first meeting with Sam, and it caused even more tears to pour from his eyes. He was studying to become a sociologist when Samantha, who was studying to be a psychologist, caught his attention. Many of their classes were the same, since the two fields were closely related. Sam had sat in the seat next to Russell and regularly told him “hi” every morning before class began. Surprisingly, even that small word required a properly working tongue, and Russell’s simply refused to cooperate around her. It took him a full two months to get up the courage to ask her out, since speaking had become a chore. This was uncanny for the wild youngster growing up in the small town of Wise, Virginia. In his younger days, he’d managed to go out with a few girls, but this one was just different; that’s the only way he could explain it.
After pushing through his unable to form words zone, Russell took Samantha to a drive-in movie. They enjoyed each other’s company so much that they lost track of time and stayed out until dawn the next morning, just laughing and talking—which was a miracle in itself for Russell. Sam actually had to tell him to slow down and relax because he kept spouting gibberish, in a mad rush to get everything out. He found himself falling fast for her, and was thankful she appeared flattered that he would get so flustered just from being in her company.
Remembering Kevin Black’s life story about his Jeannie, Russell clenched his fist and pounded it on the dashboard. He hated the similarities in their relationships, hated everything about the man.
One thing led to another and before he knew it, they were planning a wedding—better put, Sam was planning a wedding, while Russell struggled to keep up. He never knew there was so much involved in planning such a common event. In his eyes, you invited your guests, got a preacher to marry you, and left on your honeymoon immediately after the ceremony. The things Samantha ran by him blew his mind daily.
Sam was raised as a Baptist, so she naturally wanted her preacher from her hometown of Leesville, Louisiana to marry them. Since Russell never went to church until after they met, he didn’t care one way or another. The list of things Sam needed his help with locking in included: the piano player, photographer, grooms men (all had to wear the same tuxedos), the rehearsal dinner, the disc jockey and the food for the wedding reception. The honeymoon arrangements were the only thing Russell didn’t have a problem jumping on—his mind spent more than a few hours fantasizing.
The price tag for the ordeal was astronomical, making Russell thankful that he was only in for the honeymoon and the rehearsal dinner. He was also grateful that times had changed to where the prospective groom no longer had to pay the bride’s family a dowry—sure he helped out with the wedding expenses, f
or which Sam’s father was grateful, but two grand was pretty cheap compared to what some families spend on this single day event.
The memory of lifting Sam’s veil and kissing her on the lips that unforgettable day left Russell feeling like he’d been kicked in the gut. What will I do if I never again get to peer into her beautiful blue eyes, and kiss her velvet lips?
A text from Dean pulled Russell away from his depressing thoughts of losing Sam. Dean said he’d gotten a room at the Holiday Inn Express closest to the airport, and that he’d be waiting for his call.
Forcing himself to think positive, Russell pushed such thoughts aside. He quickly phoned Deputy Ramos and made sure that he dropped an unmarked car, along with a sawed off shotgun and two pistols off at the Holiday Inn where Dean said he was staying. The questions he received from his deputy were expected, but they frustrated Russell nonetheless. He didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with them. Doesn’t he know that some madman is holding Sam hostage? Of course he doesn’t, because I didn’t tell him.
* * *
With the agent out cold, it was more than a little easy to remove him from the equation. Dragging him into the bathroom, Kevin tossed his limp form into the tub. Pulling the shower curtain partly together, he turned on the water then reached behind him and took out the same knife he’d killed his wife with many years prior. He wasn’t sure how the thing got in the tunnel in the first place, but he was thankful to have it to get rid of Agent Mason. A gunshot would be heard throughout the hotel, and he needed all the time he could get to kill both the agent and Sheriff Jent, and get away from the area before the boys from the Bureau swarmed the town.