by D. W. Brown
“What about the rest of the FBI Task Force that
Agent Mason assembled prior to his death?”
“Three of our locals are en route to their homes as we speak. They will all be removed in the same manner as the others. What about the Director, Sir? Were you able to get him to write this one off?”
“It wasn’t easy, considering these were some of his best men, but he understands what we’re trying to do here. He won’t stand in the way. Besides, he’s just as expendable as the others.”
“Do you really think we’ll be able to pull it off, Sir? I mean what we’re attempting to do is almost impossible.”
“Are you doubting, Josiah? Because if you are, you might not be the right person to run things for me there in Taos.”
“No, Sir. It’s just that this thing is vast, world changing. If we’re successful here, then the entire globe will soon bow at our feet.”
“Not if, but when we’re successful, Josiah. Now do me a favor and make sure you keep up with Miss Billingsley.”
Josiah hesitated.
“What is it, Josiah? Where is she?”
“Uh, we’re not too sure. She checked in at the Sagebrush Inn two days ago, but she hasn’t been seen since.”
“What are you telling me, Josiah? Are you saying you lost her? Because if you are, I suggest you find her ASAP.”
“We’re looking everywhere, Sir. We’ll find her.”
“You should’ve killed her when you had the chance. If that incompetent boy of yours keeps messing things up, he might be the next one to take the plunge.”
“I’ll handle it, Sir. Please don’t take my boys. I’ll make this right.”
“I’m beginning to have my doubts, Josiah. You have one son that can’t follow simple orders and another one working against us. Tell me again, how you’re planning to handle it?”
“Just give me two days, Sir. I will reign in both of my boys, and get the girl back here, even if it’s in a body bag.”
“I’d prefer the body bag, Josiah. You’ve got two days. If I don’t see results, your entire lineage will be offered as recompense for your failures.”
“Thank you, Sir. Thank you so much.”
Hanging up the phone, the aging leader settled back into the comfort of his plush recliner, letting it wrap itself around his weary bones. He’d special ordered the chair from Italy a few years prior, in his search for something to help ease the tension in his neck and shoulders. It looked a little tacky to have a piece of furniture wrapped in 100% sheepskin, but all naysayers were silenced as soon as their backsides touched the material.
Smiling, Alexander thought about what his future would soon look like. People would bow down before him, leaders all over the world would beg his audience, and he alone would shape the new church. Of course, this new form of religion would be a reversion back to the old ways; sacrifice would be key. He knew it would take some time for people to warm up to the idea of such an age old concept, but in time, they’d all accept the new way. After all, it was for the greater good.
Hearing a knock on his door, Alexander hit the button to remotely turn on his lights. He loved the darkness, but the people around him didn’t. They will soon, he thought.
* * *
Amanda had overheard that a man named Sheriff Russell Jent was snooping around town from a few of the locals at the hotel she was residing in, shortly after her discharge from the hospital. From what she’d gathered, the townspeople weren’t too fond of him, and had made sure he knew it. This intrigued her, so she decided to do a little digging. It took all of five minutes to discover that he was the arresting officer of Kevin Black, after he’d killed the men in Wise, Virginia. She hadn’t told Kevin that she knew all about his complete arrest record, or that she believed he was in on the town’s madness with the others.
When Sheriff Jent left town only hours after Kevin did, Amanda was immediately suspicious. She hadn’t trusted Kevin from the start—the fact that he was a hearer of the hum and had murdered his own wife and kids only added to her suspicions. The problem was that his disposition reminded her of her sister, Jordan’s. For a brief second, she wondered if Jordan ever hurt anyone. Did the hum also call on her to kill people?
Amanda arrived in Virginia three hours after Sheriff Jent, and was in the process of checking into her hotel, when she heard a loud scream. The maid suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs with a look of terror on her face. She almost fell on her way down, but the manager was able to catch her just in time.
Listening intently, Amanda learned that the maid had discovered the dead body of a man in one of the rooms she was cleaning. Death seems to follow Mr. Black. Standing just out of sight, she looked on as the local police came in and walked through the room of the murdered agent. She watched as the frightened officer quickly ran back out of the room, and threw up in the hotel hallway. After he composed himself, he made a phone call, and left a voicemail message. “Sheriff, I need you here at the Holiday Inn Express near the airport immediately. It’s...it’s your old friend from the FBI, Dean Mason. Someone... someone killed him. What’s going on here, Sheriff?”
Having heard what she needed to, Amanda jogged out to her car, making a call along the way.
“Where are you? Are you okay?” said the voice on the other end.
“I’m fine. Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. Can you find an address me for me?”
“That depends on what you’re planning to do, and where you’re planning to do it at?”
“I’m just looking into some things here. Are you going to help me or not?” Amanda said sternly.
“Just be careful, Amanda. You haven’t exactly been good at making friends around town lately.”
“Well, don’t worry, because I’m not around town currently. Look, I’m in Wise, Virginia and I need you to help me locate the address of Sheriff Russell Jent. I think he’s in trouble.”
“You’re where? What are you doing in Virginia?
“I already told you that. I don’t have time for this. Are you going to help me or not?”
After a short pause, the voice on the other end said, “Give me ten minutes.”
“Make it five.” Amanda said back.
Sitting in her car, Amanda began to feel the full brunt of what was going on around her. People were dying all over the country, and it all came back to Taos...no, people were being murdered. What’s going on here?
The ringing cell phone caused Amanda to snap out of her thoughts. After she got the address and gave the required assurance that she’d avoid danger at all costs, she put the car in gear and headed to Sheriff Jent’s home. She reached inside her purse to feel the handle of her Ruger .38 Special. It felt cold to the touch, but it provided the comfort she needed to continue on. The wounds she’d sustained in the attack had healed much faster than even she’d anticipated, but they regularly leaked a nasty yellowish fluid. Every time she changed her bandages, anger consumed her. She didn’t like being the victim, and she vowed to never be one again. Patting the .38, she smiled and said, “I’ve got something for you people. Come after me again, and I’ll get rid of that annoying humming sound all of you keep hearing, for good.”
By the time she got moving, darkness was beginning to settle into the area. It was obvious right away that navigating in the small town was nothing like the bigger cities Amanda was accustomed to, as evidenced by the fact that she’d already had to turn the car around four times due to missing a couple of the turns she was directed to take. Two of the right turns didn’t exist, and she’d missed the other two, due to the lack of lighting in the area. The voice on her GPS had her so frustrated that she wanted to throw it out the window, but she held her temper at bay.
Without any lights to illuminate the narrow, winding roadways, Amanda worried she’d fall off one of the erod
ed shoulders. Seeing all of the coal trucks out on the road, she wondered how they were able to navigate with such ease through the crazy road network, while she was having a hard time in the mid-size sedan she’d picked up at the airport.
As she crested the top of what appeared to be the final incline, Amanda looked over at the guard rail and saw that it was the only thing between her and a three hundred foot drop straight into a huge gulley. The first thought that came to mind was that the people in the hills of Wise, Virginia lived their lives in areas and places that normal society would’ve deemed fitting only in third world countries. Homes were strewn about mountainsides, vehicles thrown haphazardly over the same, and trash littered every visible landscape.
The more she looked, the more she noticed that the entire road system was smaller than the width of two average size vehicles. Most two lanes roads were about twenty feet in width, but they appeared to be about sixteen feet wide here. The Department of Transportation in the area must’ve run out of money in the budget to spring for the missing four feet of roadway.
Amanda decided to grip the steering wheel a little tighter as she navigated around the mountains, and she even eased off the gas pedal a bit in order to avoid ending up at the bottom of that gulley. She thought to herself, what a beautiful, dangerous place to live. As she was looking over into that same drink, a huge coal truck went flying by honking his horn. She’d evidently drifted a little into the oncoming traffic lane and the driver wasn’t too happy with her.
The roads around the area looked pretty beat up, most likely due to the amount of coal trucks she’d seen on her drive in. They were all over the place and their sheer weight was wreaking havoc on the blacktop of these small towns.
Spotting numerous huge blocks of black stuff lining the ditches all up and down the mountain, Amanda strained to figure out what it was. It took a few seconds, but she eventually recognized it: she was in coal mining country. She thought, pretty quick Amanda; coal trucks plus chunks of black stuff, equals coal. A few feet further down the mountain, she even had to dodge a few huge chunks of the stuff in the center of the roadway.
The steepness of the curves throughout actually forced drivers into the oncoming traffic lanes. She just prayed she didn’t run into one of those huge blocks of coal as her car was forced into the other lane. She could only imagine the damage it would do to her the rental.
Near the bottom of the winding mountain, she glimpsed more trash, to include old washing machines—the old wringer style—and dryers, in front of many of the older homes. The structures that these people called homes reminded her of some of the pictures of the huts that the children used in the commercials to beg for money lived in. It surprised her to see people living in such squalor right in her own country.
Amanda had seen barns that were constructed better than most of the homes in this area. These small town people are lucky to even have phones from the looks of the way they live. Maybe not; the President just gave everyone in the country free cell phones. Wondering if she had cell service, she pulled out her phone and noticed there weren’t any bars present. “Great! Now I’m out in the middle of nowhere, and I can’t even call for help. So much for free cell phones!”
Completely removing the gun from her purse, she rested it in her lap. It didn’t provide much in the way of comfort this time, but having it there eased her fear of reaching for it and having it possibly fall into the floor.
She barely saw the address in time, thanks to the dim light hanging from the light pole at the end of a gravel road. Amanda hit her brakes and whipped the car to the left. Slowly, she pressed the pedal and crossed the rickety old wooden bridge. It was missing a few of the rough cut 2X6’s near the center, and it appeared to give ever so slightly as she exited on the other side. Spotting what amounted to a huge plume of smoke up ahead, Amanda picked up pace.
The sight of the burning home, the crashed police cruiser, and numerous bodies strewn about on the front lawn caused Amanda’s heart to stop in her chest. She quickly threw her gear in park and jumped out. She ran over to the nearest body, with the intentions of feeling for a pulse. When she saw that two little children were involved, all of her energy left her. She felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach, the wind ripped from her. The two males had a pulse, but she didn’t think the older one would last long. His breathing was labored, most likely from the gunshot wounds he’d sustained. Most of his upper body was littered with holes and seeping blood.
Thinking the two women and children already dead, Amanda sat in between them, holding the heads of the kids in her lap. Rocking gently back and forth, she prayed they’d somehow make it through this nightmare.
CHAPTER 39
Pulling out her phone, Amanda thanked God she now had service and dialed 911 to report the horrible scene that was now embedded in her mind forever.
“Wise County Sheriff’s Office. Is this an emergency?”
“Yes! You need to get the police and fire department here immediately.”
“Please calm down, ma’am. Where are you located?” Bonnie asked.
“I was driving through the area and happened upon a fire. The address is 294 Lonesome Pine Road. You have to hurry. Only two of the six people are still breathing.”
“Oh, no.” Bonnie said, realizing Russell’s address. “We’ll get someone there right away, ma’am. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just hurry!” Amanda replied.
* * *
The light felt like it was piercing its way into Russell’s very soul. His head ached, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. He coughed, and noticed the oxygen mask covering his face. And then it all came rushing back in on him. “Sam? Sam? Mom? Dad?”
“Relax, Sheriff.” The seasoned doctor said.
“Where’s my family? My kids? Are they okay?” Russell asked, knowing the answer.
“They didn’t make it, Russell.”
Recognizing the voice, Russell looked around the doctor and noticed Bonnie standing near the door. “They’re dead? All of them?”
“I’m afraid so, Russell. I got the call from a woman who happened to be passing by the area and saw the smoke coming from your home.”
“My dad? He was alive when I pulled him out of the house.”
“He’s gone too, Russell. He made it to the hospital, but died shortly thereafter.”
“He lost a lot of blood, Sheriff Jent. We tried to save him, but...” The doctor added.
The room started to spin around him. Russell’s mind clouded over with anger. They took his family, his only reason for living. He yelled, “No! Why? Why would they do this?”
The doctor slowly backed away, afraid to get too close to him. Two orderlies rushed into the room and secured him arms. Satisfied that the Sheriff wouldn’t wrap his hands around his neck, the doctor hesitantly moved in and stuck a needle in his arm. “This will help you get the rest you need in order to recover, Sheriff.” Russell felt his vision begin to blur, and Bonnie’s face started to fade into oblivion. Before he knew it, sleep took him. But it wasn’t a peaceful sleep. He kept rehashing the attack from Sheriff Bowman and Kevin Black. In the dream, he tried to jump in front of his family, to take the shotgun blasts for them, but they somehow managed to shoot around him. He felt helpless, as he watched them fall to the floor, one by one. He awoke with a start, but slowly calmed as he realized it was only a dream—wasn’t it? He prayed it was.
Removing the mask, Russell sat up and looked around his small room. He noticed the IV needle sticking out of his hand and yanked it free. Slowly and with the aid of the side of the bed, he helped himself onto his feet. The walk from the bed to the closet was harder than he thought it should’ve been, his stomach feeling like it was stretched to its limit. Looking down, he noticed the bandage there. Remembering the round of buckshot he’d taken, he wondered how much damage had been
inflicted on him during the attack.
Disregarding his pain, Russell grabbed his boots from the closet and pulled them onto his feet. He assumed they’d burned his clothes, the blood and bullet wounds making them no longer fit for wear.
The door suddenly burst open, and in rushed the doctor with Deputy Ramos on his heels.
“And where do you think you’re going, Sheriff?” The doctor said.
“Back to work.” Russell said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You can’t leave yet, Sheriff. You took in a lot of carbon monoxide. Your lungs aren’t strong enough yet.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, Doc.”
“Can you talk some sense into him?” The doctor said to Deputy Ramos.
“You really should rest, Sheriff. Your body is still recovering.”
“I’m fine, Deputy.” Russell said flatly.
Heading out the door with the doctor and Deputy Ramos on his heels, Russell had only one thing on his mind: Find Sheriff Bowman and Kevin Black and put a bullet in each of their heads. He no longer heard their protests. His mind was elsewhere.
Outside, Deputy Ramos jumped in front of him and said, “Sheriff, there’s something else you should know. They also killed your friend from the FBI, Dean Mason.”
The words didn’t immediately register to Russell.
“What?”
“The manager of the hotel he was staying in called and reported it two days ago. Your friend was found murdered in one of the rooms in the hotel. They slit his throat.”
“What?” Russell asked in shock. “Dean is dead too? They’re all gone.”
“All? What do you mean?” Deputy Ramos asked. “Sam, my kids, mom, dad. All of them.”
“What are you talking about? Sam and your kids are alive—they’re still recovering from their wounds in the intensive care unit.” Deputy Ramos said.