In the Still of the Night--The Supernaturals II

by David L. Golemon

  As every set of eyes in the room watched, the words were being carved into the president’s chest. Something unseen scraped the skin and chest hair free as the words were brutally sliced through the layers of skin and blood flowed. The doctors at first stayed back until they saw how deep the cutting was. They moved to stem the flow as they applied pressure. One set of hands was violently slapped free of the injury, and the cutting continued. Doctors were slapped, hit, pulled, or pushed away from the bed by a force they couldn’t see. The First Lady turned away and felt sick to her stomach as doctors fought to stop what was happening but were helpless to do so.

  “Dear God,” the colonel said as the carving finally stopped and three of them again hovered over the bed and applied the necessary pressure to get the wounds to stop their flow of blood. Even the Secret Service agents were frozen in place watching the strange events unfolding before their eyes. As blood again filled the deep cuts and then spilled over onto his open pajama top, they all saw what had been written.

  Trick or Treat!

  3

  LOS ANGELES COUNTY JAIL

  Even the gang members accumulated inside the jail moved out of the way of the new detainee. The large man looked straight ahead, and his eyes settled on the back of the overcrowded cell as he walked. The dark-skinned man was so intimidating even without the long, flowing black hair that even the gang members decided fairly quickly that this man was someone who would be left alone. Perhaps that was why the much smaller gentleman walking beside him had an air of invulnerability, at least as long as he stayed close to the large Indian.

  The first man to greet John Lonetree and George Cordero was Gabriel. As the eyes of the crowded cell turned away, Gabriel shook hands with John and George. Greetings were shared by the small black man, Leonard Sickles, and then a handshake from Damian. The five men laughed as they all realized that their great plan for hiding out had failed beyond any measure.

  “That was one hell of a plan you had there, Damian,” John said as he was shown to their safe area in the back of the cell.

  “Yeah, I guess I forgot to tell you not to attract attention to yourselves while you’re on the lam. It took fifteen years to track down a goat herder in Pakistan named bin Laden, yet they caught you guys in less than a year.”

  George looked at the tight-fitting orange jumpsuit Jackson was wearing and smiled. “And just how did you get caught, Dillinger?”

  “All right, we all should just admit we’re not very good at hiding and running from the law. None of our past experiences prepared for us to be on the Most Wanted lists when we started this little foray into science, but here we are.”

  They watched Gabriel’s tired features as he weakly smiled and then turned and sat down on the lower bunk. The others gathered around.

  “What about Julie, Jennifer, and Kelly?” George asked. “Tell me at least the females were smart enough to escape the dragnet.”

  “Our legal team says they are over at the women’s division, probably attired in the same type of clothing we find ourselves in,” Gabriel answered with a sigh. He scratched at his beard and looked up at the men gathered around the bunk. “I got word to them that they will continue their silence the same as you. When I give the court my answers, and you are called upon to confirm my story, you will deny any involvement in the decision-making process. I, and I alone, am the responsible party, and it was I who stated that these shows were nothing more than hoaxes made up by producers and signed off on by their networks. As far as you are concerned, get this phrase memorized: ‘I don’t recall that.’”

  John started to say something, but Gabe stopped him with a raised hand.

  “I got you into this mess, and I have to get you all out.”

  “That won’t happen, Prof,” Leonard said. “We all signed off on those investigations, and I’ll be damned if some producer and their legal mouthpieces will stop me from saying it.” Leonard shot a dirty look at the others, who stood and watched. “And if you chumps choose to go Professor Gabe’s route, well, you can also go and fuck yourselves. I won’t do it.”

  John shook his head as he sat next to Gabriel on the bunk. He slapped his large hand on Kennedy’s knee and nodded at Leonard.

  “His articulate narrative notwithstanding, the little shit stated exactly what we all were going to say to you. If you expect us to allow you to get sued and embarrassed over the results of our investigations—investigations we all signed off on at their conclusions, just what would that make us? We’re better than that. So, I agree with Leonard, but I will direct my response to you nonetheless. You really can go fuck yourself.”

  “Okay, that basically lays out our thoughts on the sacrificial lamb thing,” Jackson said quickly, cutting off Kennedy’s rebuke. “So, we all go in and tell the truth about ghosts. With the one exception of Summer Place and our shared experience there, we have no proof that hauntings have actually happened in those locations.”

  “We were all basically broke when all of this started before Summer Place, so we’ll be broke again. So what?” Leonard said, looking for support.

  John turned and saw the sad look on Gabriel’s face.

  “I don’t think in the end we were all doing this for the money. After Summer Place, we actually thought we were on the verge of creating a new science that would not be scoffed at by the academics of the world. Well, we found out that actual hauntings are few and far between. That doesn’t mean it’s not a science. I am not going to stop looking for answers. I may be broke and shunned after this court thing, but I for one am not quitting,” John said with conviction.

  “Gabe, we’re all going on the theory, after that night at Summer Place, that hauntings are not a natural occurrence in nature. That ghosts are created by the minds of men and women. Something so powerful that its entity—or essence, if you prefer—remains long after life has left its physical form and is able to affect the physical environment. That is why we were doing this. It’s a sound theory and the only one that fits the scarcity of actual hauntings outside of what you experts call energy-driven apparitions, just photos captured in time. An imprint.”

  All eyes went to Damian, who frowned and looked away after his speech.

  “If you can convince the most skeptical man on the planet of what your theory is, why not throw that same theory at the court and see if it sticks?” Leonard said, still looking at the former detective. “Just when did you become a believer, J. Edgar?”

  “A smart man once said that if you rule out the possible and all that you are left with is the impossible, you have to go with the impossible, or something like that.”

  “That smart man was Sherlock Holmes, and the quote was actually—” George started to correct the big former Pennsylvania detective when Gabe stopped him.

  “It doesn’t matter. If you do as I say, maybe you can dig into the theory a little bit more.”

  “After you go to jail for fraud, we can continue is what you mean.”

  Kennedy looked up at John, and then fixed Gabriel with a glare that said he was tiring of the argument. “Yes, that is exactly what I mean.”

  The commotion at the front of the cell along with the whistling and shouts of approval stopped further discussion of the matter. With exchanged looks of confusion as to what had made the grouping of jail detainees shout with approving voices, the five men parted the gathered criminals and saw they were all watching the chained-down television set bolted to the wall. The news commentator was somberly describing the scene inside a most austere sitting.

  “The new president of the United States was sworn in at three forty-five this afternoon, Washington time. The sudden and unexpected resignation of President Hadley has the world asking questions the new administration has yet to shine light upon. With a sketchy explanation as to the president’s health condition that was confirmed through White House sources, the new president officially takes over the reins of a nation sorely divided over the powers of the presidency. We will continue to bring you ne
ws as to the reasoning behind the sudden resignation of President Hadley and will—”

  “I hope the bastard dies,” came the voice of a black man staring up at the television screen.

  “’Bout damn time too,” said another.

  “Well, that was sudden,” Damian said as they turned and headed back to their safe zone as the channel on the TV was switched. As the men walked away, they heard the familiar theme of one of the shows they had outed as hoax-filled garbage, Kelly’s old reality program, Hunters of the Paranormal, which was still on the air with new producers and new hosts.

  “We have bigger problems than that mean son of a bitch who is finally getting his just reward for being a dickhead,” Leonard quipped as they left. “I say good riddance to President Hadley.”

  On the television, the theme song for Hunters of the Paranormal was turned up. The strains of Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” filled the large cell as criminal heads bobbed up and down with the beat of the popular old song. Little did they know the strange men in the back of the cell were the reason that particular show and song were still popular.

  To the five very strange men, it was a song and television show they could all live without.

  MORENO, CALIFORNIA

  Bob and Linda Culbertson returned from grocery shopping in nearby Corona. The 1980 Plymouth Horizon had seen far better days, and both the Culbertsons could not wait until the jobs they had signed on for were complete. Their ten-year tenure in Moreno was all but up the weekend after Halloween. For a couple that had signed on as embedded security inside the old town, they soon found when looking into a mirror that they had actually grown old together.

  Both Bob and Linda had filed for their well-deserved and earned retirements from Sacramento Security. It had been a ten-year job that would require only their eyes and ears, and also one that would net both security agents a nice retirement package that included $100,000 on completion of the assignment. That completion was now fast approaching.

  It had been ten years of watching and waiting for the unusual—a happenstance that never occurred. The town was as dead as their employer had said it would be. Now they were getting word about the land asset being liquidated by ownership and they would not be replaced when their contract was up. As Bob removed the last bag of groceries from the small rust-covered Horizon, he looked up and down the dead length of Main Street. In a sad sort of way, he was going to miss the solitude of Moreno. The town was responsible for the wife he now had, and there was a sadness to leaving it.

  Bob saw old man Leach open the double doors to Newberry’s across the street and wave. Bob nodded in greeting, as his hands were full.

  “You and Linda need the grill to stay open a little while longer?” the old man shouted as he allowed the doors to close behind him.

  “We just bought stuff for chili,” he said, and then he saw the brief look of sadness cross Harvey Leach’s face even from that distance. Bob turned and saw Linda was still holding the Naugahyde-trimmed front doors open. The look was unmistakable. Bob stopped and then turned to face Leach, who was reentering the large department store. He exhaled. “We got plenty, Harve—you want to shit fire for a week and eat with us?”

  “May as well. Haven’t shit right since the Tet Offensive in ’68. What’s one more year?” He waved his hand and then turned.

  “Seven thirty!” Bob shouted. He turned and gave Linda a dirty look.

  “We’ve only got one more week until we say good-bye to all of this, so be nice.” The doors swung closed.

  “Oh, thanks. I’ll get the door!”

  As Bob struggled to shift one plastic bag from one hand to the other so he could grasp the door handle, he saw a brilliant flash of light from down the street. It was brief but unmistakable. He placed one of the bags down and then shaded his eyes and looked north along Main. As his eyes fell on the old and very damaged theater marquee lying partially on the sidewalk, he could have sworn he saw one of the old shattered neon tubes briefly alight and then just as quickly go out.

  “Are you coming in or what?” Linda asked loudly from the doorway.

  “Jesus!” he said when he turned. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “What in the hell are you looking at?” she asked as she held the right-side door open with a beefy arm.

  “Nothing. Must have been the sun shining off something.” He finally looked away from the old Grenada Theater.

  “Well, hurry up; you’re the one that invited company tonight!” The door again closed on him.

  “What? It was you—”

  With a frustrated look from the closed door to the broken old theater, he shook his head.

  “I guess ten years inside this menagerie is enough,” he said as he struggled with the door and then entered.

  Down the street, the marquee neon flashed brightly once and then went dark.

  * * *

  Bob and Linda watched as Harvey Leach crumbled another six saltine crackers into his bowl of chili—his third. For a man who cooked for a living, it seemed Harvey hadn’t had a good bowl of chili in what seemed years. Bob smiled as he looked over at his rotund wife. He shook his head and then stood from the table and removed his and Linda’s dishes and placed them in the sink. He then went to the old phonograph inside the remains of the booth and turned on an album on the turntable. Through the static of the needle making contact with the vinyl album, the soft refrains of the Mamas and the Papas echoed softly through the expanse of the old radio station. He started to turn away and rejoin his wife and his dinner guest when he thought he saw movement inside the booth. He cursed.

  “Damn rats are getting out of control.”

  He angrily reached out and turned on the telescoping lamp that had been left over from the radio days and then swiveled it around so he could see into the back of the room where the old records used to be cataloged. Bob moved the lamp left and then right but saw no movement from the brazen rat. He saw nothing but empty space and the old abandoned restroom.

  His gaze turned to the album now spinning away on the old felt-covered turntable. There were two of these with only one working. The strains of “California Dreamin’” came wafting through the old speakers. Satisfied it was a mere rat problem, he turned off the light and went to the reception area they used for dining.

  “Harve,” Bob said as he pulled out his chair and sat, “with us leaving Moreno, that’s going to cut the population around here to about half. Why don’t you get the hell out and buy a condo in Riverside or someplace like that?”

  Leach finished with the last of his chili and then wiped his mouth with a napkin and finished the last of his beer and then smacked his lips and winked at Linda in appreciation of the meal.

  Bob stood and went to the small refrigerator and retrieved two more beers and twisted the cap off them and handed one to Harvey.

  “Nah, I’m destined to die here. ’Bout the only time I spent away from here was when I left for the war in ’67, and before that when I was born in Ontario. I think I’ll just tough it out.” He looked at both Bob and Linda seriously. “The real question is, what are you folks going to do? I mean”—here, Harvey smiled as if he had a deep and dark secret—“are you two staying together after your assignment is completed?”

  Bob felt the mouthful of beer shoot from his mouth, as Harvey had shocked the hell out of him and Linda, who was openly staring at the old cook. The old man smiled and then used his napkin to dab at the wetness on the plastic tablecloth after the beer was deposited by Bob.

  “Oh, don’t be so shocked that an old man knows the deep and very dark secrets of the town he spent all his life in.” Harvey stood and gestured for Linda not to get up and moved his empty chili bowl to the sink. He returned and sat. “If my memory hasn’t completely abandoned this old brain of mine, I would think that you’re the third … no, the fourth team of security folks that company has sent in here.”

  “You knew we were security plants the whole time?” Linda asked, her ample elbow
s planted on the plastic tablecloth.

  “I knew that mean bastard would never take his eyes from this place. It began with the father and continued on through the years to the son.” A far-off look came to Harvey’s features as he absentmindedly took another pull from the beer. “It wasn’t enough for the son of a bitch to kill the town; he has to know when the roofs cave in, walls fall down, and windows shatter through age. He has to know everything.”

  “Who, Sacramento Security?” Bob asked, exchanging looks with Linda.

  Harvey laughed and then slid the now-empty bottle away from him and then stood.

  “The folks you work for?” he smiled even wider but stopped the chuckle. It was a worrisome look to both Bob and Linda. “No, the real reason you’re here is because of someone else. Your company is his eyes.” Harvey nodded at Linda. “Thanks for the dinner, Linda. Excellent chili.” He placed an old California Angels baseball cap on his head and then started for the front door as the Mamas and the Papas sang their signature song. “One thing, though. You are nice enough folks, so I’ll tell you something.” He stopped and faced both Bob and Linda. “It is indeed time to go. For me, I’ll stay and see this thing through. But for you, I wouldn’t even wait; go tonight. Things are different the past few weeks, and I don’t know why. Folks comin’ up missin’ and all.”

  As the front doors to the station closed and Harvey left, the record stopped, and then Bob heard another start with an intro track. He turned and looked into the DJ’s booth through the thick soundproof glass, as he knew they didn’t have an autoloader for the turntable. His eyes widened when he saw the silvery visage of a man sitting behind that glass, wearing earphones. He had a finely trimmed jawline beard, and it was then that Bob heard Linda give out a frightened yelp as she saw the image also. They could see the man was speaking into a boom microphone that hadn’t been inside the studio in more than fifty years. The music went from the Mamas and the Papas to the refrains of Dion and his hit “Runaround Sue.” They watched as the DJ slid the mic away and then bobbed his head to the fast beat of Dion DiMucci.