Dark Justice: A Supernatural Thriller

by Donnie Light

  “Where ya’ goin’?” the drunk asked, coming steadily toward him. “It’s time to rock n’ roll. Or, are you gonna try to run?”

  “Please man, let’s not do this,” Galen pleaded. “Let’s just call a truce and I’ll get out of here.”

  The drunk took an offensive position, thrusting the knife toward Galen. Galen leaped back, the blade just missing his stomach. “How about it, chicken-”

  His sentence was broken off by a scream of pain. The ball had torn into his shoulder pitching him forward. Surprised, he turned to see what had hurt him. The ball tore a path through his skin from his shoulder blade to his chest, digging its way deeper as it moved.

  The drunk was just an obstacle in the ball’s path. With his back to the ball, the drunk was startled by the sudden burst of pain at the base of his neck. In reaction to the pain, he lost his balance and fell more heavily into the ball, extending the damage to his body, before falling aside. The drunk fell to the ground screaming, a gaping wound at the back of his neck.

  Stunned, Galen turned to run and heard the drunk scream a final time. He had no time to see after the man, as his instincts to do so kicked in. He saw the Mustang turning around ahead of him. He looked back to the ball. A wall of fire again appeared and the burning bodies called for him.

  Help us Galen, we need you.

  He ran into the back of the Mustang while watching the ball and almost fell. He slid around to the open door. Galen had no sooner hit the seat when Audra tromped the gas sending a spray of gravel that bounced off the other cars in the parking lot.

  Galen looked out the back window and watched the wall of flame recede into the distance. He kept his eyes on it until Audra turned sharply onto the asphalt with a screech of tortured rubber. He looked straight ahead, white as a sheet.

  “Did you see the fire that time?” Galen asked, breathing heavily.

  “No, Galen, I didn’t see any fire. I saw the ball. Galen it was so close!”

  “But you didn’t see that wall of flames, those bodies inside, burning up?”

  “No!” Audra yelled. “I saw the ball and the drunk! Galen, it killed him!” She shuddered, tears beginning to flow down her face. “Galen we’ve got to stop it. Too many people are dead!”

  She had not told him about what she had heard on the radio in the park. She still was not sure it was the ball, but somehow felt that it was. She was almost certain.

  “What do you mean, Audra? How many people have died?” Galen asked, looking directly at her. She tried to hide the knowledge of the accident behind a mask of nervousness.

  “I just mean that people could die. Like that drunk. How many people has it killed along the way?”

  Galen could sense she was holding back on him. She knew something she was not telling him about. “You’re not a good liar, Audra. What are you trying to tell me?” Galen asked.

  She looked nervously around. “Something I heard on the radio,” she said. “I… I listened to the news while you went off to call Paxon.”

  Galen looked at her. “Go on,” Galen said, not knowing if he really wanted to hear it.

  “They told a story on the news, about an accident on the highway. Three dead,” she said, having to force the words out.

  “What’s that got to do with me?” Galen asked.

  “The driver hit something on the road,” she said. “He lost control of the car and three people died. More were injured.” She became quiet for a moment, then continued. “It happened on highway 39, Galen. The same highway we took to Bloomington.” She began to cry, “I… I think he hit the ball, Galen.”

  She calmed herself down and looked at Galen. “How many other things have happened that we don’t know about?” She shook her head, wanting to say no more.

  They both sat quietly for a couple of minutes. Audra asked Galen if he would drive.

  She stopped the car alongside the two-lane highway. The traffic was very light this time of morning and no cars passed them as they changed places.

  After several more minutes of silence, Galen spoke up. “Just what should I do?” he asked. “Should I just stop running and let the thing kill me?”

  He knew it was after him. It had not made any attempt to single out Audra. Galen could feel it. It wanted him.

  “No!” Audra shouted, cringing at the thought of losing him. “We just have to find out how to stop it, Galen. That’s all I meant. I just… want the thing to stop.” She put her hand on top of his, “I just want it to leave us alone.”

  “Me too,” he said. “I just want to go back to the way things were before, when my life was boring. Back to when I had nothing to do when I was off duty except spend a few hours talking with an old man.”

  “Galen,” Audra said, “I know we’ll find a way. Don’t worry, we will.”

  She reached across the console and kissed him on the cheek. “Promise me you won’t let that thing get you,” she said, also sensing it was after him, not her.

  “I’ll do my best,” Galen said. “I want to be around to take you out to a proper dinner when this is over.”

  Audra smiled and reached into the back seat for the stack of papers. The thought of losing Galen to the ball sparked a new energy in her. She wanted to know everything she could about this thing. Maybe, the answer they searched for was in the files.

  Galen drove northward on highway 84. They traveled within a stone’s throw of the mighty Mississippi river. Audra turned on the flashlight, shielding Galen from the glare with her hand. She trained the light on the papers and read as much as she could.

  As she read, she began to think that somehow the thing had been reactivated by something that they had done. What could it be? She went over the original story, in her mind.

  A slave, seeking justice.

  A religious ceremony.

  The slave giving the thing to his master.

  His Master running from the same glowing ball.

  Nothing seemed to connect to Galen. She read on, searching for any clues that may connect something that happened almost two-hundred years ago to the present.

  They passed through Watertown and Galen spotted a sign for highway 64. He turned west and traveled toward Rochelle seeking the fastest route back to The Willows.

  He pictured the ball-thing, altering its path as he turned west and a chill ran down his spine. They could be back in Willow River in about an hour-and-a-half.

  They reached The Willows at three-thirty a.m., Sunday morning. The town was very quiet; all its residents sleeping soundly on this cool summer night.

  All but two of its residents; those two struggled with where they should go and what they should do.

  Audra suggested they go to her place. One of them could get some sleep and the other could read the files.

  Galen agreed.

  He was so tired he begged for the first sleeping shift. Galen figured they had about a five-and-a-half hour lead on the ball. He wanted to sleep for two hours and let Audra have the rest.

  After arriving at her apartment, Audra retrieved an ancient, bell-ringing antique alarm clock from her bedroom. Galen had sprawled out on her couch, a soft, old wonderfully long thing she had gotten from her parents.

  “Give me two hours,” he said, “in case you fall asleep or forget to wake me.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “If I don’t fall asleep, I won’t forget to wake you. I’ll be counting the minutes ’til my turn.” She wound the alarm, and then set it for five-forty-five, giving him his two hours. Audra, nearly exhausted, sat down next to him on the couch and rubbed his shoulders.

  Galen moaned with pleasure. He was asleep within moments. He began to snore lightly.

  Audra ignored the noise, not wanting to wake him. She moved to her kitchen table and spread the notes on it. Marking the ones she had already read, she set them aside.

  She made a pot of coffee, hoping it would keep her awake for a while. She listened to the old alarm clock ticking, a sound that she associated with sleep. She got u
p and poured herself another cup of coffee.

  She looked at Galen, motionless on the couch. She wondered what her mother would think of a guy like Galen. He was a little on the thin side, but muscular. He was tall; but not too tall. She would not approve of him being a smoker, but that could be worked out. He had a steady job and looked neat and clean.

  She was sure mother would find something wrong with him. Maybe it would be Galen’s first marriage. Maybe the foul language he let slip too often. It would be something. Maybe she would associate him with Jack. Although that would not be fair, she knew how upset her mother was over her sister’s situation. Jack was never home, he drank a lot and squandered their money on risky gambles. Galen was about as far unlike Jack as a person could get.

  § § §

  Audra awoke to the sound of the alarm ringing noisily in the living room.

  Galen fell off the couch when the clanging bells started, sounding more like a school recess bell. It only took him seconds to gain his bearings. He was accustomed to coming to full wakefulness quickly from many middle-of-the-night fire alarms. He shook his head, clearing the last of the cobwebs and searched for the button that would kill the hideous bell.

  He felt like he had been drinking all night.

  Audra was not so quick to wake up. Galen could see she had fallen asleep and really could not blame her. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her right cheek was red from lying on it.

  “Couldn’t stay awake?” he asked, spotting the coffee.

  “Must have just dozed off for a minute,” she said. The need for sleep was evident in her voice.

  Galen poured a cup of coffee. He smiled at Audra. “Go ahead and lay down for awhile,” he said. “It’ll be soon enough that we’ll have to get rolling again.”

  She nodded and stumbled toward the couch. She moved the pillows to the other end, (the way she laid down for her naps) and fluffed them before stretching out to sleep. She pulled up the blanket and drew her knees toward her chest.

  Galen looked at the papers strewn about the table. He did not feel like reading yet. He wanted a cigarette.

  Audra kept no ashtrays sitting around the apartment so Galen walked out onto the balcony for a smoke.

  The small second-floor balcony contained a single lawn chair and a small Weber grill. Galen sat upon the railing and lit up. The morning air was moist and cool. The sun was just making its appearance over the horizon. A faint morning haze sat low upon the ground and dewdrops glistened on the hoods of the cars in the parking lot.

  Galen watched a robin tug a worm from its hole in the lawn. The newspaper boy pedaled along the street behind the apartments, tossing the papers toward the houses with all the grace of a pro athlete. Lights flickered to life in the gas station down the block, the manager ready for another Sunday morning in The Willows.

  Galen wondered how everything could be so normal for everyone else while he and Audra faced such an abnormal day.

  Things like this were not supposed to happen. It was just too crazy.

  I’m being chased by a killer ball, he thought, one that goes right through anything and stops at nothing.

  “Tell me,” he imagined Oprah Winfrey saying to him, the audience silently awaiting his answer, “what went through your mind as you ran from this thing, this ball that was after you?”

  He smiled at his own humor.

  He flipped the butt of the cigarette onto the back lawn and walked back into the apartment. After a shower and another cup of coffee, Galen began to read Al’s papers. He thought Al’s funeral would probably be tomorrow. He wondered if he was going to be able to make it. How could he miss Al’s funeral? Galen only expected a handful of people to attend but wanted to be there himself. He was sure Al would understand if he didn’t make it, considering the circumstances.

  He retrieved Paxon’s phone number from the shirt he had changed out of and thought about calling him. It was 7:30 in Georgia. Paxon might be up. He stretched the cord of Audra’s phone over to the table and dialed the number.

  After five rings and no answer, Galen was ready to hang up when Paxon’s voice came over the line.

  “Paxon,” he said, obviously awakened by the call.

  “Mister Paxon, this is Galen Morris. I… I called last night about…”

  “Yeah, I know who you are Morris. Call me John; it’s too early for formalities.”

  “I just wanted to know if you found out anything. I mean, about the ball, the Eater of Hearts.”

  “I might have,” Paxon said. “I’ve been up most of the night studying up on the thing. Are you sure that’s what it is?”

  “As sure as I can be,” Galen said.

  “Well, you know it’s just a legend, a myth, folklore. As far as my information goes the actual object has never been found.”

  “Al must have found it,” Galen said. “I know he made several trips to the area. He tells about them in his files.”

  “How much is there in his files?” Paxon asked.

  Galen surveyed the various stacks of paper. “We’ve printed about a hundred pages, but there is much more than that still in the computer. Audra has done most of the reading, and she said he has two different books on this thing. One is non-fiction about the legend, and the other is a novel. Audra said that both look pretty much completed, but it appears he was still editing them.”

  “I see. And does it say anything in his files about where he found it or what it looks like?”

  “We’re still working on where he got it, but I know what it looks like. I’ve seen it up close a few times.”

  “And what does it look like Galen?”

  “Well, it’s a little smaller than a baseball, about the size of a tennis ball. It’s made of something like crystal or glass. Al thinks it’s a diamond. And it’s got these groves-”

  “Did you say diamond?” Paxon asked. “You said Gaston thought that it’s a diamond?”

  “Yeah, I read it in his notes somewhere.” Galen began to go through the files searching for that particular passage. “He said he was afraid to take it to have it analyzed because of its size. If it was a real diamond, it’d be worth millions. He didn’t want anyone to know he had it. But he analyzed it himself and was convinced it was a diamond.”

  “Interesting,” Paxon said, barely able to control himself. “Do you have all of Gaston’s files with you?”

  “All that we know of, we’ve got his whole computer.”

  “Do Gaston’s files have any instructions on how to stop the thing?”

  “I wish!” Galen said, “If it did, I’d have told you already.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, it’s still early.”

  “I don’t think Al ever expected the thing to…” Galen paused, searching for the words, “Come to life, or whatever you’d call it.”

  “No, he probably didn’t,” Paxon agreed. “Do you think you can come to Georgia and bring the files with you?”

  “Do you mean like, now?”

  “Yes, as soon as possible.”

  “What have you got in mind?” Galen asked.

  “I think I might have found a way to stop it, but I’ll need a little more time to study. Gaston’s notes could be a big help. I think you will have to come to Georgia for it to work.”

  “I can be there,” Galen said. “I’ll go as far as I have to if it will stop this thing.”

  “Good,” Paxon said. “How soon can you get started?”

  “A couple of hours,” Galen said.

  “Excellent. Call me from the road. I’ll give you directions when you get closer. Just drive to Savannah, Georgia.”

  “Will do,” Galen said. “I hope you’re right.”

  “So do I, Mr. Morris. So do I.”

  – Chapter 16 –

  Paxon was already formulating a plan as he hung up the phone with Galen. He grabbed his best friend from the table and removed the cap. He took a deep slug to calm his nerves. The whiskey instantly warmed his chest, giving him a nice, secure feeling
.

  Paxon knew the situation was dangerous. He had heard some strange stories on the news over the past couple of days.

  While John Paxon seldom found himself claiming the moral high ground, he had never contemplated anything like this before. He could not let this thing continue to endanger innocent people on its path to Morris. He felt he had to stop it, and there was only way sure way to do so. Like most of Paxon’s plans, this one was not well developed—yet.

  He thought about the possibilities.

  Gaston had never written anything that was less than spectacular. Everything he wrote, including the novels, was met with great reviews. Paxon doubted anyone knew about this work of Gaston’s except Morris and the girl he was with. If he could get his hands on those files, he would have a couple of books he was sure he could publish.

  Of course, he would put his name on the books.

  If the thing was truly a giant diamond it would be priceless. Gaston was no fool; if he had studied it and believed it was a diamond, it probably was. Perhaps he could sell it outright. Take the money and run. Go to an island. Live off the money for the rest of his life.

  Or maybe just keep it. Publish the books first and then loan the object out for display at museums for awhile. Become famous first, then sell it. He would have offers from all over the world.

  Paxon got up to make a pot of coffee. Stopping first in the bathroom, he swallowed a couple of aspirin and washed his face. He looked at himself in the mirror and could not believe he was actually considering his current plan, but felt there was no other choice.

  He turned his thoughts to the more pleasant side of his plan. He imagined himself as a famous author. The non-fiction book could wait a while. It was the novel he wanted, along with the object itself. He had always dreamed of the day when he could walk into a corner drugstore and see his name on the cover of a bestseller. It really made no difference to him whether he had actually written it or not, as long as he could see his name on the cover.