In the Still of the Night--The Supernaturals II

by David L. Golemon

  The department store was far different at night than in the day. The cordoned-off shopping areas of the main floor were far more haunted than even the rest of the town. At one time, everyone in town frequented Newberry’s Department Store. The old echoes of shoppers past seemed to stain the store, and Bob and Linda didn’t know how Harvey had handled it all these years. They smiled as they watched him in the large square of empty space as he cooked over the grill. Casper sat silently as he took in the old lunch counter.

  “You know, in 1960, before that malt shop on the corner of Main and Santiago—Peppermint Lounge, I think it was called—us kids used to take up all the counter space here after school.” He shook his head at the memory. “I was just a younker at the time, but we made this place a pretty penny, I can tell you. We would order food by the pound. Newberry’s had the best damn french fries in the valley, let me tell ya.”

  “The secret is my dad gave orders to never change the oil in the deep fryer. He said it added extra flavor to his fries.”

  Bob and Linda made a face as Harvey placed three plates of food in front of them and then turned to the service window and gathered his own dinner. He stood behind the counter and would eat that way.

  “In honor of a heyday Moreno never really had, I give you the Big Bopper Burger and Idaho Jim’s home fries,” he said with a crooked grin. “I thought of that myself back in, oh, I guess it was 1961. It went over well. My dad said I was a natural restaurateur.” He raised his glass of fountain soda and tipped it toward his guests. They did the same. Toasting the official death of Moreno was sad to them in a way, at least for Casper and Harvey, who had been there all their lives.

  Bob bit into his cheeseburger and smiled. He chewed and rolled his eyes. “Man, I can see why that really took off.”

  Linda smiled. She liked hearing the old stories. She took a sip through her straw of the most wonderful soda fountain Cherry Coke she had ever had. Harvey saw her appreciation.

  “It’s the amount of syrup. I cheated at the recipe and always had. Dad never could figure out where the shortage in yield sprang from.”

  “Is that how you seduced the local girls?” Linda asked.

  “Nah.” A far-off look came into Harvey’s eyes as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “But there was one who I loved from the first moment I laid eyes on her.”

  “Tell us,” Linda said as she felt a cold draft at her back and shivered. Bob and Casper smiled, as they too wanted to hear of the crush Harvey had on a girl long ago gone from this place.

  “Ah, she was out of my league. She was the daughter of one of the town’s founders. I was also, but this girl commanded attention. Not in a mean way, but because she actually cared for people. Even though she was a blind girl, everyone loved her.”

  “What happened to her?” Bob asked as he finished his burger and fries. It was Casper who answered for Harve.

  “The fire department never found her body in the Grenada Theater after the fire.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Linda said.

  “We all felt we let her down. We knew who she was with that night, and we all knew no good would come of it. Everyone tried to warn her, but she knew better. She knew he was a creep, but she felt there was more to him than being a bully and the son of the richest man in town. There was no stoppin’ that girl once she set her mind to something.” Harvey stopped talking and then attempted to eat his burger but instead placed it on his blue dinner plate and then pushed it away.

  “So many people died that night, but it’s her image that haunts this place more than the empty buildings and businesses,” Casper added. “Why, I bet—”

  The light in the middle of the cordoned-off section of Newberry’s came on. The overheads had not been functional since 1967.

  “What in the Sam Hill?” Harvey moved from behind the chipped counter and looked into the vastness of the store. He produced his set of keys and made his way to the center of Newberry’s to the large chain-link fencing separating the lunch counter and booths from the store proper. He found the right key and opened the large lock. He swung the gate open and was startled when his three guests joined him. Casper was still eating his burger as he looked past the stacked shelving and the boxes of old hangers and dress stands. He chewed as his eyes went toward the bright lights.

  They went inside, and as Harvey moved old boxes out of the way, Linda was the first to see the display. It was done up like a cornfield, complete with fake scarecrow. There were racks and racks of packaged and cheesy Halloween costumes and plastic pumpkins kids could use instead of the old grocery bags for gathering candy.

  “What the fuck is this?” Casper said as his appetite suddenly vanished.

  Bob recognized some of the display costumes arranged for maximum effect to entice children to harangue their parents for such a Halloween getup. There was Sylvester the Cat, Tweety in all his yellow glory, and Superman masks, most likely made of the most toxic plastic available in the early sixties.

  The sudden blast of the speaker system startled them all. Attention, Newberry’s shoppers! Today we are offering 50 percent off on all Halloween apparel and candy. Don’t let your trick-or-treaters down! We have the best selection of candy in the Inland Empire. Happy Halloween from your extended family at Newberry’s!

  Harvey felt his legs go weak, and he had to grab Bob by the shoulder to keep from falling as the announcement faded and echoed inside the mostly empty department store.

  “Hey, you okay?” Bob asked as he helped Harvey straighten.

  “I haven’t heard his voice since the day he died in 1973.”

  “Whose?” Linda asked, not liking where this conversation was heading.

  “That was my father.” Harvey looked upward toward the second floor. The escalator had not been functional since the store closed its doors officially in 1965. He leaned over to see if he could view anything, but there was nothing but darkness.

  “Someone is messing with us, Harvey,” Bob said as he looked around for any form of explanation.

  The music made them all jump, and Casper let out a scream as the remains of his cheeseburger slipped from his fingers. The entire intercom system sprang to life with music on all four floors echoing throughout Newberry’s.

  I was working in the lab late one night … when my eyes beheld an eerie sight … For my monster from his slab began to rise, and suddenly to my surprise … he did the mash … he did the Monster Mash …

  The song was old, and it was loud enough that Linda placed her hands over her ears and cringed.

  “What is going on?” Harvey shouted.

  Bob’s and Linda’s occasionally operational cell phones went off at the same time the old escalator to the second and third floors began creaking and moving in a jolting, halting motion.

  The overhead fluorescent lights went out, and the music was silenced. Then slim light returned as the illumination from the lunch counter finally pushed the darkness away.

  All eyes searched faces hoping for a logical explanation, but all they saw in each other was the impossibility of what had just happened. They each turned slowly toward the area where the ghostly Halloween display had been and saw nothing but empty racks and old boxes. The area had not been used since 1965.

  “Well,” Bob said, taking Linda’s shaking hand in his own, “thanks for the burger and the floor show, but I think it’s time we start packing our things.”

  “Yeah, things are getting a bit spooky around here,” Casper said, echoing Bob’s unease.

  On that night, they never realized that Newberry’s had remained dormant until a certain topic of conversation had been brought up. It was like a knee-jerk reaction the town had for bringing up bad memories.

  Now the small town of Moreno was physically starting to react as the anniversary of that long-ago Halloween night drew near.

  * * *

  Inside the old ruins of the winery, the vault shook on its cement foundation, and dirt and dust showered down from the weakened and age-worn raf
ters.

  In the basement of the Grenada Theater, there was not one sound other than the humming of an old song about someone needing to worry, because her man was coming back home. My boyfriend’s back, and you’re gonna be in trouble.

  The entity was spiking in power, and it had just drawn more strength from the display it had just put on at Newberry’s and the witnessed reaction to it. It fed off the fear and lack of understanding of those who felt the town escalate in its waking. The energy Bob, Linda, Casper, and Harvey had just spent being frightened made the things in both vaults stronger.

  Fear was the fuel it fed upon.

  9

  VIRGINIA COUNTRYSIDE

  The United States marshal served the papers after the quiet night in Virginia. Gabriel and the others, including Leonard, finally got seven good hours of sleep. The evening and then into the late night, there had been no activity with President Hadley, who was still in and out of consciousness. Unable to speak or to even move, he was still being fed intravenously. It was past eight in the morning when a light knock sounded on Gabriel’s third-floor bedroom door, and Kennedy answered with a towel in his hands.

  “Madam First Lady,” he said as he turned and tossed the towel, where it snagged on the corner bedpost.

  “Mrs. Hadley will do; the title always made me feel old for some reason.”

  Gabriel poked his head out of the door and looked left and then right, and then his thoughts turned to devilry. He must have been hanging out with Damian a little too much. “I would ask you in, but that may start rumors we would just as soon avoid.” He smiled and waited for her to state her business and see if she had a reaction to his probing wit.

  “I understand your reference to the rumors in Washington, Professor; you shouldn’t watch so much of that reality television you’re so fond of berating. Now if you will follow me, we have some business to discuss before your team meets this morning. I believe this may have some bearing on how you proceed.”

  Kennedy reached for his coat and then followed Catherine Hadley down the stairs. On the second-floor landing, he looked down the hallway, and everything seemed quiet. He saw Julie Reilly dozing in a chair next to three standing hostage rescue team agents and smiled. He told everyone they didn’t have to keep watch, that the FBI could handle it for a night, but Julie insisted that they be close for observation. No better eyes than their own, she said. But after Kelly’s death, Gabe had a hard time leaving anyone remotely close to that bedroom.

  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw the First Lady’s assistant standing in the foyer talking with a bear of a man in a brown uniform shirt and faded Levi’s. He held a white cowboy hat in his right hand, and with his left, he battled with a too-small china teacup. The assistant saw Catherine Hadley and then quickly excused herself after relieving the man of his troubling cup. Gabriel stepped up to both as he cleaned his glasses.

  “Ben Hyatt, United States marshal, Professor Gabriel Kennedy,” Catherine said as she smiled and stepped back.

  “Professor, I am officially serving you this warrant. You are to cease and desist all your study of the president. He is to be transferred to Ringwald Clinic in New Hampshire by three o’clock today.” The burly man handed him the folded document. “Have a good day, sir.”

  The United States marshal turned and left with a dip of his head at the former First Lady. Gabriel unfolded the warrant and scanned it. He took a deep breath and then faced the woman who intimidated all she ran across, much like her husband had. She learned well.

  “You people were the ones who requested we take part in this. Why didn’t you just order us out?”

  Catherine smiled and then went to the credenza and straightened out a vase of freshly cut roses. She acted as if she were fussing with them.

  The front door opened, and Damian entered. He had been gone since the afternoon before when Kennedy had sent him out to dig up some information. Gabriel had surmised that Catherine could keep a lot to herself, but she had one requirement that any wife has—she had to obey the law. Damian went to find out what she had waving in the wind, legally speaking.

  “I see that the marshal was just here,” he said as he removed his ever-present raincoat and then the fedora and tossed them on an expensive Hamilton chair next to the credenza. “I imagine you were surprised when he served you with papers?”

  “Quite surprised,” Gabe said as he absentmindedly handed Damian the order to release Hadley to the New Hampshire hospital.

  Damian smiled as he read the warrant. The large black man then lowered the paperwork. “You know this hospital in New Hampshire?”

  “Yes, it’s well known. A place for the rich and famous to go and die quietly so as not to embarrass the other rich and famous. It’s a vegetable-monitoring station.” Gabriel turned and watched Catherine and her roses and then stepped up to her. “You know your husband is still functioning rather well upstairs, right?”

  “Is that what you call it?” she said as she straightened and turned. The smile was no longer there.

  “Why?” Kennedy asked.

  Leonard and Jennifer stepped off the last stair and saw John Lonetree exit the pantry with a cup of coffee. They remained silent as they watched the drama they had stumbled onto play out. They knew when not to talk.

  “She had to prove to the world that she was actually making an attempt to help her ailing husband. Otherwise, what would people in polite society think of our poor First Lady?” Damian said as he turned and went toward John and relieved him of his coffee. It looked like the former state police officer hadn’t slept in three days, which was completely accurate. He sipped and then winked at the even larger Lonetree. He turned back to Gabriel and Catherine, who stood amused. “In the time we have been here, Mrs. Hadley has been using her time well. At least her lawyers have. She got the injunction late last night after a conference call with a superior court judge, Lyle Buellton, a friend from many years ago. Thus, your service of writ this morning, Gabe.” Damian drank again and then smiled up at Catherine.

  “So, we’re fired?” Leonard asked as he rubbed his eyes after joining the group. Even a few of the doctors and nurses were gathering to see the outcome. At this point, Gabriel could see that Catherine was becoming uncomfortable with so many people hearing their speculation on her motives.

  “Your services, though appreciated deeply by me and my husband, are no longer necessary.” She turned to leave.

  Leonard got Gabriel’s attention and waved a large file and then raised his brows.

  “May we conclude our exit exam?” Gabriel asked, acting as if he had acquiesced to her decision. “Just to close out our files.” He smiled. “Legalities, you know how they are. Five hours alone, and then you can whisk him away.”

  “Four hours, Professor. The helicopter arrives this afternoon to transport him to New Hampshire.” She nodded and then left them all to stand there feeling used and very much the underdog in this fight.

  Kennedy immediately went to Leonard, who turned and went back inside the study. The others followed.

  “That was my coffee, you know,” John said as he beat Damian to the twin doors of the study.

  “Next time, less sugar.” Damian smiled as he paused at the doorway. “I’m sweet enough.”

  Lonetree gave him a dirty look as Jenny patted him on the back as she too went inside.

  Damian went to Gabriel before Leonard got to him. “That phone call last night”—he shook his head—“what in the hell happened?”

  “I’ll have Julie catch you up. We informed Kelly’s father in Brooklyn. It wasn’t easy to tell a man that he lost his daughter and that we don’t know exactly how it happened.”

  Damian placed a beefy hand on Gabe’s shoulder. They were joined by John as the others sat at the long table. Jackson looked at Kennedy and then John in turn.

  “I haven’t said this in many years, at least since that night in the Poconos, but by God, Gabe, this is enough. We have no real idea what we are doing here.
Kelly’s death proves we don’t know enough about reality, much less the supernatural. We’re babes in the woods, and now someone has paid the price for it. Let’s shut this down and get the hell out of here.” The words were whispered, but they carried well to the others. “Sorry, but I liked that girl, even though I didn’t show it a lot. She had guts, and that’s something I appreciate. Do right by her, Gabe.”

  “That’s what this is for,” Leonard said as he finally got Gabriel’s attention and slapped the file into his chest. “This came through last night.”

  “What is it?” Kennedy asked as he watched Damian finally moving off to the table.

  “Gabriel—”

  Kennedy ignored John; he knew what he was going to say, and he didn’t even want to go there. He gestured for John to sit down.

  When he opened the file, his eyes widened. “Leonard, this would have been good if we were after the First Lady, but this doesn’t do anything to stop Hadley from being transferred.”

  “What is it?” Julie asked as she stood and started pouring coffee for everyone. Jennifer assisted just to do something.

  “It seems the former chief of staff, the now deceased Herbert Avery, assisted Mrs. Hadley in acquiring a little bit of clout. Avery was about to try three months ago before the president began showing signs of insanity, giving her full power of attorney. All his holdings in the Hadley Corporation, according to Mr. Sickles here.” Gabriel tossed the file on the table and looked at Leonard. “We’ll turn this over to the FBI for a possible criminal case, but it doesn’t help us”—he looked up toward the ceiling and the bedrooms there—“or him. Besides, as I said, she no longer needs power of attorney; she’ll get everything anyway.”

  Leonard became frustrated and then snatched the discarded file from the tabletop. He opened it and then slammed his palm down upon it.