In the Still of the Night--The Supernaturals II

by David L. Golemon

  Dean pulled the car over to the curb and put the emergency brake on. He faced her. “Look, I have to get some clothes. I’m wet and I’m muddy, and I think I have gravel in my underwear. But the real reason we’re here is because when you told me about what your story is about and where, I thought taking a peek at what that spooky-ass, Peter Lorre–looking Kraut doctor was up to for all those years while our fathers and the U.S. government were paying him large sums of money. My dad has something in his office, I just know it. I’m going to get whatever there is. I’ve seen these old-looking journals once or twice that I catch him looking through. I can tell they are important to him. They look really old. That may be what we need to shed some light on this wacko Nazi doctor.”

  “You be careful and don’t get caught.”

  “Hey, it’s me!” he said and then quickly opened his door and was gone.

  * * *

  John felt as trapped as Gloria. She sat and listened, and with every car that approached, she cringed, thinking it would surely be Dean’s father returning home and catching him in his office. John had tried to join Hadley inside, but he was attached to Gloria and couldn’t leave her presence. To John and Gloria, it seemed Dean was in the house for an hour, when it was actually only fifteen minutes.

  The driver’s-side door suddenly opened, and Dean jumped in with an excited whoop.

  “Got one of them. It was inside his locked drawer. Here, check this out.” Dean handed Gloria what looked like a leather-bound journal.

  “What’s embossed here?” Gloria asked as her delicate fingers ran over the fine lettering of the imprint.

  “Journal. Then below that, 1941–1943. Then at the bottom, Dr. Jürgen Fromm.”

  “I don’t like that thing,” she said as she hurriedly handed the journal back to Dean.

  “I know. Creepy.” Dean took the book and opened it. “It’s daily entries in German.” He looked up with hope. “Do you Sprechen sie Deutsch?” he asked, saying one of his favorite war movie lines.

  “I got stuck with Mrs. McCauley’s French class,” Gloria answered with a grin.

  “I got Spanish; I guess they thought I was language challenged.” As he closed the journal and started the Corvette, a bundle of paper fell free of the journal’s binding. “Look at this,” Dean said.

  Gloria sat there and then slowly turned her head in exasperation. “Hello? Blind. Can’t see.”

  Dean closed his eyes and silently cursed his stupidity. “Sorry.” He picked up the official-looking documents. “This is a daily report written in English. Look, it—” He caught himself again just as Gloria raised her right brow in exasperation. “Sorry, it has a Department of the Air Force header and logo. Looks like a report of some kind.”

  “What does it say?” she asked.

  “‘Report filed June 17, 1947, 0340 hours,’” he said as he caught the next line, “‘in the Moreno Complex.’ Let’s see. ‘Professor Fromm has misled the field reporting officers on his repeated attempts to re-create high-altitude experiment 3419—451 C. It is stated in his report and journal that he used the exact same parameters as his process did in 1941. The experiments are documented by film made by the doctor during the dates stated in last report. He insists that the experiment will continue to fail unless the direct specifications of his original discovery be followed to the letter, which this officer has stated on many occasions is an impossible request. Addendum—Colonel Robert Hadley (Ret.) has been informed of the continuing failure of Dr. Fromm.’”

  Gloria heard the thunder and shivered as Dean read to her.

  “January 1957.” Dean shuffled through the papers and then frowned. “None of these are in order. A lot of years missing here. He must have tossed the rest.”

  “Maybe these three were the only ones your father was interested in keeping,” Gloria countered.

  “This has my father’s company letterhead. Hadley Corp Gauge and Meter Company. It’s a request for more funding. ‘As of this date, transport vault #11251-A has shown no activity since arrival date of 12/15/1947. All activity inside ceased upon transport to this country. The primary cost of containment and disposal of wastewater and mercury contaminate has become a serious threat to the security of this project. Moreno is now a high priority for inspection certificates from state and local authorities. In short, gentlemen, because of the lack of internal activity from the containment vessel, it is my humble opinion and that of my partners that Operation Necromancer be canceled immediately and Dr. Jürgen Fromm be debriefed and deported to his native country. Signed, R. D. Hadley, Colonel, United States Army (Ret.)’”

  “Anything else?” Gloria asked, becoming even more afraid of the growing thunderstorm.

  “‘Checked final preparation for shutting down Operation Necromancer at Moreno Complex.’” Dean looked closer at the report—and then even closer. “This isn’t my father’s handwriting,” he said, and then his eyes went to the bottom of the report. “This was signed by your father, Captain F. Perry.”

  “My dad?” she asked, not feeling so good about her father’s involvement with this.

  “What is a necromancer?” Dean asked without shame of not knowing.

  Gloria was still deep in thought. It seemed she never even knew her dad went to the old winery. With the exception of one or two times.

  “Hey, what’s a necromancer?” he asked again.

  “A magician, a trickster. Magic,” she said.

  Dean read again.

  “‘Broke viewing port on containment vessel this date. Opportunity for viewing and documenting original subjects in high-altitude experiment and the former Operation Necromancer. The interior had been unchanged since the original experiment date in 1941, inside the borders of Axis-controlled Yugoslavia. Compartment was separated into two sections—side A and side B. Observed the remains of eighteen adults in section A and twenty-eight juveniles ranging in age from six months through pubescent stages. All subjects were deceased. Project observers suspect original example of activity inside vault B conducted in March 1945 for the benefit of operational forces of the Office of Strategic Services were completely and utterly false in nature. Suspect the high-altitude experiment was a total failure and its aftereffect a hoax perpetrated by Jürgen Fromm. Included in this final report are all graphs, medical feeds, film, written documentation, and specs on containment vessels. Request massive chemical cleanup of support structure (i.e., the town of Moreno and surrounding area). Responsibility for original report falls to the field team involved (i.e., Team Five, Colonel Hadley, who refused to cosign final report).’”

  “If it was a project commanded by your father, why was it my dad who signed the papers, basically stopping whatever this Operation Necromancer was?” Gloria bit her lip as she thought how to press Dean about what his father was up to. “My father killed this thing over your dad’s objections.”

  “Looks that way,” Dean said, feeling guilty for no apparent reason except for knowing for sure that his own father was in the wrong. “I guess maybe that explains the falling-out they had a few years ago.”

  “I think I was there the day it happened. I never put two and two together.”

  “That’s it,” Dean said, placing the papers back inside the journal as he started the engine. “I think I’ll hang on to the journal and see if maybe we can get Casper Worthington’s ma to read it. She’s German, you know?”

  Gloria smiled. “No, I didn’t know that. You surprise me, Dean Hadley.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You just do. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  They heard a car approaching over the falling rain.

  “Damn, it’s my father!” he snarled. “I forgot he was coming home early to get ready for the Halloween stuff tonight.”

  John watched with Dean and Gloria as the Cadillac moved slowly down the opposite side of the street toward the house Dean had just left. Dean instinctively ducked low and with his right hand he reached out and lowered Gloria’s profile. John wanted
to also hide but then caught himself. He felt the guilt of the boy and girl as Robert parked his car in the driveway and entered the house. Without hesitation, Dean placed the car in gear and slowly moved off. John once more tried to leave Gloria and Dean, and this time, he felt his body leave their presence and enter the house Dean shared with his father. John was now witness to history written by another outside of the two teenagers.

  * * *

  Robert went to the closet and hung up his coat and slid down the knot in his tie. He was still whistling as he went through the mail he had retrieved from his mailbox. He tossed the letters on his desk and then the whistling stopped. His eyes went to the desktop. Then they fell in a puddle of water. His smile vanished and his demeanor changed. John stood watching from the entrance hall and felt the chill as Robert moved down the long hallway toward a set of doors, opened them, and passed through.

  John Lonetree followed after seeing Dean’s wet footprints on the expensive floor tile. John wished he could tell the kid he wasn’t as good a burglar as he thought.

  Hadley produced his set of keys and then opened the desk drawers. He examined their contents and then looked up in anger. He knew his son had developed a curiosity that had to be reined in. He picked up the phone.

  Suddenly, John was whisked from the house and was again sitting on the center console of the Corvette as it sped away toward the town of Moreno. The sun was getting lower in the afternoon skies as the thunderheads built over the Southland.

  Halloween night was arriving on schedule.

  17

  John was still deep in REM sleep. George was watching him closely and keeping his right hand on Lonetree’s left. Gabriel would carefully raise John’s right eyelid to check for any pupil dilation that would indicate that the Demerol used was possibly interfering, a problem he and Lonetree had many years before during a session in college. John had became incoherent in his deep thoughts during the dreamwalk and nearly flatlined. The drug wasn’t enough to overdose him but had been enough to confuse his dreaming mind. The body usually did what the brain ordered, and that was the danger they had watched for. He nodded when he was finished, and Jennifer took a breath of relief.

  “I’m picking up a rise in anxiety,” George said. “Not much, but John is experiencing possibly fright or mild excitement.”

  “Your visions are as clear and precise as usual,” Damian muttered, and George shot him a dirty look. Jackson looked at his watch. “He’s been under for thirty-five minutes.”

  Gabriel watched John’s serene face with worry. The longest he had ever been under was twenty-two minutes. In that instance, John found himself unable to concentrate for days afterward.

  George let go of Lonetree’s hand and then fixed Gabriel with a worried look. He shook his head at Gabe’s reluctance to end the session. He was under the illusion that his friend was in control, but he was thinking something entirely different. This wasn’t a normal dreamwalk. He was getting the vibe that John was being led down a trail by poisonous bread crumbs.

  “That thing, whatever it is, is using John and doesn’t really give a damn if it kills him. It’s having fun reliving this through him.” George pointed at John’s sleeping form. “Bring him out, Gabe; we can get to the bottom of this by allowing this thing to play out real time.”

  “We would be sacrificing the president,” Jennifer said. “You know John would never protect himself if there is the slightest chance he can help in his way.”

  Gabriel looked at George for the longest time and then reached behind him for the syringe of Adrenalin from the small table. He looked at Jennifer.

  “Another person lost on this team is not going to solve anything,” George said, sitting back in his chair with his eyes on Lonetree.

  “Trading one life for another—is that what we do now, Gabriel?” Jennifer asked in protest for caving into George and his fears. She wanted no harm to come to John, but he had been adamant about helping the president in his way. They were too far short of time for anything else. Halloween was here, and they all knew that date was the tipping point for whatever was happening in Moreno.

  Kennedy ignored further argument. He couldn’t risk another of his friends’ lives.

  Jennifer watched without further comment as Gabe stuck the needle into John’s arm.

  “John, it’s time to wake up,” Gabriel said softly, leaning over Lonetree, as he placed the empty syringe on the table.

  Jennifer took up John’s left hand and squeezed. “Come on back; you’ve been under too long.”

  Lonetree’s eyes stopped moving, and his breathing became deeper.

  “Heart rate coming up and coming up fast,” Leonard said as he studied the monitors in front of him. The small black man nodded at Harvey, who was watching Leonard move from monitor to monitor. “Blood pressure is also rising. He’s coming around.” Leonard leaned over to adjust the heart rate to get an accurate count on beats per minute when the laptops and monitors suddenly went blank. “What the hell?” he asked himself as he looked around the darkened room. “Hey, J. Edgar, turn on the overhead lights.”

  Damian stood and then walked to the wall and hit all ten of the old-fashioned switches. He looked up as the fluorescent lighting flickered as if coming to life and then went out. Damian hit the switches twice, up and down and then finally up.

  Gabriel stood from his chair as the only lights they had on was the two small lamps on the table. He looked around and settled on Leonard, who shrugged. Sickles turned and pulled up the old-fashioned yellow roll-up blind that covered one of the main second-floor windows.

  “The lights at the radio station are on. I even saw light from the first floor reflecting off the water in the street.” A flash of lightning made Leonard flinch and step back from the glass. Harvey moved past him and then saw what had caught his attention just a moment before.

  “Uh-oh,” he said, “that damn K-Rave sign is on again.”

  “What’s so mysterious about that?” Damian asked as he stepped up to the window and looked down into the storm. He saw the bright red gas-fed fluorescents glow.

  “That damn light has been busted since the sixties. It doesn’t even have a ballast for the damn gas. And according to old Bob and Linda, strange shit starts to happen when that light comes on. I didn’t believe it until now.” He turned away from the window. “I had this feeling in ’65 when the damn Vietcong zapped us but good in the Ia Drang Valley. They chewed our asses up. There’s something out there, and now I think I should have done what all the others did and gotten the hell out of here.”

  “He’s coming around,” Jenny said.

  George felt relief momentarily settle his mind.

  “Okay, let’s—” Gabriel began but was stopped when the windows across the entire circumference of the second floor exploded inward. Windswept rain and glass inundated the entire area of the darkened floor. There was just enough light coming from the empty elevator shaft and the emergency stairwell they had propped open.

  “NOOOO,” came the deep and booming voice. It reverberated in their ears. Leonard forgot about the glass that had peppered his face when he became more aware of his eardrums about to burst. Gabriel bent at the waist, and Jennifer collapsed onto John in terrible pain. Damian fell to his knees, and Harvey hit the floor as if mortar rounds were striking inside his old firebase in Southeast Asia. “BRING HIM BACK!” the voice screamed in abject anger.

  George felt the force as it took him by the throat and raised him to the thirteen-foot-high ceiling. He was taken so hard and so fast that Gabe actually lost sight of him. As he raised his head, still holding his ears from not only the explosion of glass but the booming voice that shook their world. He and Jennifer, with a waking Lonetree, saw Cordero as he was slammed over and over again into the old, water-stained ceiling until his head was punched all the way through it. His legs were kicking for the briefest of moments, and then his body was released and he fell to the floor with a bone-crunching impact.

  Gabriel w
as horrified as he tried to move toward the dark and still form of his friend. He made it in two steps when he hit the small table and the medication there went crashing to the floor. The empty syringes bounced once, twice, and then flew up. In the soft light, Jennifer screamed when she saw the four syringes spin in one spot for the briefest of moments and then shoot like darts at Kennedy. The first two struck him in the chest, the third near his collarbone, and the fourth in his shoulder with a force hard enough to send Gabriel flying backward over the still form of George Cordero.

  Jennifer left John, who was trying to gain some sense of what was happening around him. He shook his head as he watched Jennifer run and then fall out of his sight. On the floor, she reached for Gabe’s ankle as he tried to get his own wits together. His leg was ripped from her grasp, and then they all watched as Gabriel was smashed against the wall while grabbing at his throat, and then he went straight up as he was propelled into the air by the unseen force just as George had been a brief moment before. His shoes kicked holes in the old plaster as he was lifted. Damian and Harvey had recovered faster than they would have thought possible for being as scared as they were. For Jackson, this was not like the past six years chasing down hoaxers and frauds; this was real, and now he remembered how scared one man can be. Damian dove for the Gabe’s kicking feet only to hit his heel, and then he went sprawling, sliding on the old tile floor until he impacted the wall with his head and shoulder. Harvey followed suit and missed completely, going headfirst into the wall that he never saw coming.

  “STOP IT! STOP IT NOW!” came the booming voice that seemed to come from all directions. “I DIDN’T NEED YOU FOR THIS! THEY ARE TO WITNESS WHAT WAS!”

  The old department store shook as if an earthquake had struck the area. The remaining glass flew from the window frames, and a crack formed in the tile-covered cement floor. It moved like an aggressive snake until it slowly stopped its run. Rainwater was pushed inside by the powerful wind that had tripled in strength in the past few seconds.