“Hello?”
“Mr. Ramsey?”
It was a deep male voice, and sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it right off.
“Yes…”
“This is Bob Goode with the People Network again.”
“Oh.”
“I just wanted to call to let you know that we’ve found a great lead on the location project that you requested.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ve got this one figured out by now.”
“Regardless, Mr. Ramsey, you’ve already paid for our services and we guarantee results. Do you have a fax number so that I can fax you the information as soon as I get it?”
“Yeah,” Scott said. “But really, I don’t think it’s necessary…”
“How so?”
“I’m fairly confident I’ve already figured out the child’s identity.”
“Who?” the man asked, suddenly quite intrigued.
“A childhood friend of mine, Matt Parker.”
“Well,” the man said, pausing as he took Scott’s answer as something of a challenge, to see if he could prove him wrong. “We’ll just have to see if the information that I found supports your assumption. Now, the fax number?”
“Area code 719, 590, 2644.”
“Thank you very much. You should have the information that you requested faxed to you within, most likely, the next twenty four hours, but I guarantee it within forty- eight. And once again, Mr. Ramsey, on behalf of the People Network I would like to thank you for choosing our service and hope that we will be able to help you again in the future.”
There was a click on the other end of the line and suddenly Scott wished that he had not chosen the People Network. The man had grown too pushy and it was quite obvious that he wanted nothing more than to prove to him, and the entire world for that matter, that there was no greater detective when it came to doing what he did in the entire world. But, in his eagerness to see if Harry had found anything new while he was gone, he pushed the conversation to the back of his mind and it was only a matter of time before he forgot about it completely.
“Who was that?” Harry asked as Scott entered the living room.
“Oh, that was that guy I told you about that I hired over the Internet to track down the identity of the child.”
“Seems kind of a moot point now, huh?”
“That’s what I told him, but he seems hell bent on doing it. What can you do?”
Harry turned back to the table and grabbed a smaller stack of newspaper clipping from the right side of the table.
“You see,” Harry said, transferring the smaller stack, which could have been no more than three sheets thick, to his left hand as he gestured to the others with his right. “I’ve grouped these according to content. This thick stack on the left here is the actual newspaper clippings detailing the two hundred deaths. We’ve already looked at most of them, but what I found here is quite interesting.”
“Go on.”
“Shuffled in the middle of all of those articles, I found these three. Now granted, they are nothing more than mere blurbs, and really don’t give that much information at all, but listen to this. Do you remember that Article we read about the mass graves in Germany?”
“Sure.”
“Well, listen to this. I found this one folded and stuck to the back of another one of the clippings. I don’t know which paper this is from as the top has been torn from the page, but let me read it to you.”
Scott sat down in the armchair nearest the desk, turning it slightly so that he was looking directly at Harry.
“This is from Schlossberg,” Harry started. “It must be from some American or western European paper as it’s written in English, but I digress. Here we go.
“The third horrible, disheveled body in as many days turned up today on the bank of the Rhine in this war abandoned rural town. State officials have declined comment. Locals fear the killings may have been by some sort of animal as there are no wounds consistent with bullets or stabbings. Local farmers are in the process of combing the heavily vegetated hills in search of what they presume to be a pack of wild dogs.”
“That could be just coincidence. It could have nothing to do with, what was it again, a mass grave?”
“True, but then again, what if it does?”
Scott just sighed and nodded, leaning back in the chair as suddenly the lack of sleep crept up the base of his spine and settled into the back of his skull, making it feel hollow. His heavy eyelids drooped half way over his dark, red rimmed eyes. Stifling a yawn, he batted his lids fiercely, fighting back the swell of sleep that threatened to swallow him beneath a wave of darkness.
“There’s another one here,” Harry said, tossing the small clipping he had just read onto the desk. “And while I have no idea what paper this actually came from, I can see that it’s an AP release. Listen:
“Johannesburg, South Africa. Half a dozen unidentified bodies have turned up over the last few days, presumably victimized by revolutionary forces in the nearby countryside outside of Johannesburg. And while, uncharacteristically, no one has taken credit for the slayings, authorities believe they are close to apprehending the culprits. The condition of the bodies resembles that of being drawn and quartered, the bodies having been gruesomely ripped limb from limb. A thorough search of the surrounding area is being performed as authorities are unable to rule out the possibility of more similar casualties."
“That’s where this nun was before she came here,” Scott said, leaning forward and rubbing the small balls of crust from the corners of his eyes.
“Exactly.”
“So perhaps there were more than two hundred deaths.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“Or maybe these deaths were just a harbinger of things to come.”
“You’re suggesting that what we’re experiencing now is nothing more than the prelude to the actual event?”
“That’s the way it looks to me.”
“So we need to end this right now or we’re going to end up with two hundred more bodies.”
“I think so.”
The two sat in silence for a moment as Scott chewed gently on his lower lip. Harry tossed the clipping back on the desk with the other in its small pile and looked questioningly at Scott.
“There’s one thing that’s puzzling me a bit, though.”
“Hmm?”
“Where around here could one go to find exactly two hundred people at the same time to cause some sort of mass casualty?”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Think about it. There are far more than two hundred people in a mall at any given time. Air Force and Colorado College Hockey games draw more fans than that, and
The football games are always sold out. There are countless youth league games where the numbers would approximate that, but it doesn’t fit the profile to exterminate largely children. What does that leave? Businesses, movie theaters on a slow day?”
“Restaurants? Dormitories?”
“Sure. You see where I’m going with this.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t narrow it down very much at all really.”
“Think about it this way, though. What do we have right around this area, near to these hills where you will find anything resembling one of those things?”
“Nothing.”
“Right. Nothing.”
“This entire area is almost completely residential. The nearest restaurant capable of holding two hundred people is a fifteen- minute drive. The nearest businesses of that size are just as far. All of the killings so far have been in this exact area.”
“That could be nothing more than coincidence.”
“Maybe, but I inclined to think not.”
“What do you suggest then?” Scott said, rising from the chair and placing his hands in the middle of his back. Leaning backwards, the vertebrae in his back popped audibly.
“I suggest we don’t wait around long enough t
o find out.”
“I’m with you there.”
The phone rang again.
Rolling his eyes, Scott lumbered to the kitchen and grabbed the headset from the receiver. With a beep, the green LED display screen came to life.
“Hello?” Scott answered impatiently.
“Scott?”
He recognized the voice immediately.
“Oh, hi Sharon. What’s new?”
“I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“We just signed the contract on the last lot in the project. We’re now officially full.”
“That sounds great.”
“That’s it? Sounds great? I expected a little more enthusiasm than that. Are you all right?”
“Just having a hard time sleeping is all. I’m a little under the weather and just need to take a little time off.”
“Must be the stress. Well, don’t take too much time, with all of these plots commissioned, we’re down to your part of the deal. You’ve suddenly got a whole lot of houses to build.”
“But that’s a good thing,” Scott said with a smile.
“That’s what I like to hear. So get some rest and get yourself back up to one hundred percent.”
“Thanks for the call, Sharon.”
“You’re coming to the mixer on Saturday still, aren’t you?”
“That’s the plan.”
“It wouldn’t be the same without the builder there, and it sounds as though we’re going to get a really good turn out.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“And you know, I was thinking, maybe the two of us could go out for drinks when it’s through?”
“That sounds nice,” Scott said with a genuinely pleasant smile.
It was the first time in the last three days that he had forgotten about the current situation, if just for the few seconds it took to be asked out.
“Then I guess I’ll see you Saturday,” Sharon said, her voice positively bubbling.
“Yeah, see you Saturday.”
“Buh- bye.”
There was a click on the other end and Scott hung up the phone with a twinkle in his eye.
Walking back into the living room, he caught the sullen look that wrenched Harry’s face into a concerned knot and remembered the conversation that they had been having before the phone rang.
“You want to go in there, don’t you?” Scott said, the faded remnants of his smile fading into the creases in his cheeks.
“Yep.”
“When?”
“Do you have any plans now?”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
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THE BLOODSPAWN
Michael McBride
© 2004 Michael McBride. All rights reserved.
PART THIRTEEN
SECTION 13
Chapters 18 and 19
XVIII
Wednesday, November 16th
3 p.m.
Scott closed the trunk of the Cherokee, and took a step back, breathing a heavy sigh. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
“Is that everything?” Harry asked as he bounded down the two short steps into the garage from the house.
“I have no idea,” Scott responded from beneath raised brows as he shook his head.
“Well then, let’s take a quick inventory and see.”
Scott walked to the edge of the garage beneath the overhanging roof and stared out into the street. The snow was coming in waves now, sheets blowing one after the other from side to side on the rapidly blowing wind, which howled through the trees all around them. The streetlights flickered as the dark cloud cover triggered their light sensors. Everything was white, from the densely covered ground to the snow- crusted branches of the trees and roofs of the houses.
“Shotguns?” Harry queried as he stood beside Scott, huddling his arms around himself as protection from the wicked wind.
“Check.”
“Shells?”
“Check.”
“Hatchets?”
“Check.”
“Knives?”
“We’ve got the two heavy handled hunting knives with the serrated edges, and each of us has a pocket knife.”
“Good. Rope?”
“Check.”
“Gasoline.”
“We’ve got a gallon.”
“Flame?”
“Matches and a lighter.”
Harry paused momentarily. “Anything else you can think of?”
“I’m at a loss. If none of this stuff works, we’re as good as dead regardless.”
The two stood in the quiet garage listening to the snow fall. They both knew that Scott was right, and more than likely, after having seen what Matt was capable of, it was almost a foregone conclusion regardless.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harry asked in a muffled whisper.
“Do we have a choice?”
“You could walk away right now, catch the next flight to somewhere tropical and never have to think about this ever again.”
“Could you do that?”
“I’ve been preparing for this my entire life. Since that one night where I stumbled upon those nuns slaughtering those children in that little house, it’s been the sole focus of my life. And while I didn’t choose to have to take responsibility for any of this, it was thrust upon me, and I’ve had no choice but to deal with that. If you want to get the hell out of here right now, I’ll wish you no ill will and we’ll part as friends. Heaven knows this is about the last place in the world that I want to be right now. But this is my burden, my cross to bear, and regardless of whether you’re coming or not, I have no choice but to face him… and kill him.”
Scott looked at Harry as he surveyed the storm. He looked a lot older than he had even a few days ago when they had first met. His skin somehow seemed more pale, the wrinkles more heavily defined. And there was something about the way he carried himself that had aged as well. His face was permanently affixed in an expression of pained discomfort, his weary eyes barely more than slits between the bright red rims of his eyelids. The light gray, short- cropped hair atop his head was matted and messy.
“There’s nothing like planning to kill an old friend to get an evening started.”
Harry looked at him and nodded, obviously relieved that he wasn’t going to have to do it alone. He rested a hand on Scott’s shoulder and then patted it several times before turning and walking to the side of the car.
“There’s something that you need to remember, though. And while he may look and sound like your old friend Matt, the man that we will be facing is someone completely different. Your friend died that night in that lake, maybe even sometime before. And whatever humanity he once possessed died with him. What we will face tonight in an incarnation of pure evil, a soulless monster hell bent on not only our deaths, but the eventual deaths of two hundred others. And should we fail tonight, you and I both know that it’s just a matter of time before he comes for us, and when he does we’ll die an ugly death just like the others.”
“I know,” Scott whispered from beneath the overhang.
“But I need to know that if and when that time comes that you’ll be able to pull the trigger, or drag the serrated edge of one of those big hunting knives across his throat.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“If you can’t do that, you realize you could kill us both.”
“Of course I know that,” Scott said as he turned back towards the garage, walking across the cement pad and around the front of the car.
“Then I can count on you?”
“Of course.”
Scott opened the driver’s side door and climbed in, fishing the keys from his pocket and shoving them into the ignition. Harry clambered in beside him, slamming the d
oor as he reached for the seat belt, strapping it across his chest and buckling it into the clip. Belting himself in, Scott scanned the rearview mirror and backed the car out of the garage and into the driveway.
Enormous flakes of snow buffeted the car from all directions, swirling around it like a frosty tornado. The windshield wipers hammered from side to side as fast as they could, brushing the snow aside into two long arcs atop the windshield. The wheels grabbed for traction, skidding momentarily as Scott thrust the car into drive and headed down the icy road.
“How much time do we have?” Scott asked, his eyes intently fixed on the road which seemed to vanish behind the swirling snow that coated the windshield, blocking the light from the headlights.
“Sunset’s at 6:08. That gives us nearly two and a half hours to set up.”
“Is that enough time?”
“How long could it possibly take to bring a shotgun to your shoulder, stick a knife in your pocket, another beneath your belt and grab an ax? I think time, if nothing else, is definitely on our side at this point.”
“But what if we’re wrong? What if he’s already there, waiting for us? What if we don’t have that small amount of time to gather our stuff? What if we never even make it out of this car?”
Until he actually said it out loud, the possibility of his own death on that day had never really sunken in. What he now faced was the distinct reality that he may never see the sun rise again, he may never see his own home again, he may never get married or have children or go to the Super Bowl. His life may be relegated to nothing more than the next few hours.
“There are definitely a lot of ‘what ifs’,” Harry said, turning the blower in the dash so that it blew atop his rubbing hands. “But let’s look at the facts as we know them. We have never seen anything during the day. Each time we have seen Matt…”
“I can’t do this if we use his name,” Scott interrupted.
“Would you prefer the bloodspawn?”
“Anything but his real name.”
“All right then,” Harry continued. “Every time we have seen the bloodspawn, it has been not only dark, but later in the evening. No one has died during the day…”
The Bloodspawn Page 32