JOURNEY (THE CHASER CHRONICLES Book 2)

by John C. Dalglish

  As I came down the street to the dead end where Journey was located, I read the scrolling neon sign in front of the church.

  Service in Memoriam of Brother Timmons. 1 PM.

  It still seemed so unreal. I was still trying to get a handle on the whole Chaser thing, and now, one of the oldest Runners out there had targeted someone because of their connection to me. I didn’t like being responsible for other people’s safety, especially people I cared about. I wasn’t very good at it.

  I parked in back and got out, moving slowly toward the entrance. I spotted Buddy’s white Impala, and next to it, Mandy’s police-issue vehicle. The dent in the rear quarter panel was new.

  She’d always been incredibly hard on police force cars, and had a reputation for going through them faster than any of her male counterparts. Usually, was from running down some creep, or blocking a fleeing felon’s car with her own.

  I need to remember to ask her how that one happened.

  As I entered into the sanctuary, I was surprised at the number of people in the pews. Timmons had clearly touched many souls in his short life. The lights were all off, and a series of candles illuminated the closed coffin. The impending storm had reduced the daylight to almost nothing, and I couldn’t remember when I’d been in such a dark church.

  “Pssst!”

  I looked to my right to find Mandy sitting in civilian clothes, videotaping the proceedings from the back pew.

  I slid in next to her. “Using video to scan for our guy?”

  “Yeah. I’m trying to keep it hidden when people are coming in, then shooting when no one is looking.”

  “You remember that our guy didn’t show up on video the last time?”

  “Yeah, well, let’s see him pull that stunt again.”

  I smiled at her determination. “I’ve got to sit up front with Buddy and Sarah. Maybe I’ll see you after the service.”

  “Okay.”

  I got up and walked to the front of the sanctuary. Buddy saw me coming and moved everyone down the pew, so I could sit next to him. I nodded at him, then leaned across to touch Sarah’s hand. She gave me a sad smile and laid her hand across mine. “Hi, Jack.”

  “You doing okay, Sarah?”

  “The Lord gives us strength for days such as these.”

  Brother Edwards came to the pulpit wearing a long black robe, motioned to the back of the hall, and the doors were closed. He moved behind the lectern while the organist played the old hymn ‘Dwelling in Beulah Land.’ The refrain came back to me after so many years, and I began running the words through my head.

  I’m living on the mountain, underneath a cloudless sky.

  I’m drinking at the fountain that never shall run dry.

  O yes! I’m feasting on the manna from a bountiful supply,

  For I am dwelling in Beulah Land.

  I had no doubt Brother Timmons was in that place, but I missed his gentle spirit, and I couldn’t help wondering how our partnership might have worked out. I made him a promise.

  I’ll do everything I can, my friend, to see this Runner is stopped and no one else has to follow you home.

  The music stopped and Pastor Edwards opened his Bible.

  “We’re here today to remember, and to honor, Brother Timmons. The size of this gathering is a testimony to his work for the Lord, and the number of people he touched in the short time he was here.”

  He paused, wiping at his eyes with a handkerchief, and looked up toward the roof of the building. When he’d gathered himself, he went on to recount stories of his friend, and to reassure everyone that Brother Timmons would be waiting for each of them on the other side.

  He looked down at his Bible. “At a time like this, the question we ask more than any other is why?”

  He looked back up at the congregation. “Why him? Why now? Why…why…why?”

  The pastor paused for a long time. A heavy silence hung in the air, as each person held their breath, hoping he was about to give them the answer.

  Brother Edwards cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was stronger and more self-assured. “I asked God that question, and as is His habit, He answered me with a scripture.”

  The pastor smiled, and a knowing chuckle echoed through the hall. He held his Bible above his head. “If you have your Bible with you, please turn to I Corinthians, Chapter 13, and Verse 12.”

  He waited until the rustling of Bibles being opened had settled down. “This verse is Paul’s answer for us, therefore God’s answer for us, to the question why.”

  He began to read the passage:

  For now we see through a glass, darkly,

  But then face to face:

  Now I know in part,

  But then shall I know even as also I am known.

  He closed his Bible and laid it on the lectern. “Folks, there are things we can’t understand, and there are things we wish didn’t happen. But every one of them is under the control of God in Heaven. He says to you and me, through Paul, that one day you will understand.”

  Several ‘Amens’ were heard across the sanctuary before he continued. “You will know the answer to the question of why. And you will say to yourself, ‘I’m glad I trusted Him.’”

  More ‘Amens’ echoed, louder this time.

  Brother Edwards signaled to the organist, who began to play, and he turned back to the crowd. “Please stand and sing with me Brother Timmons’s favorite hymn, ‘The Unclouded Day.’”

  *******

  After the service, I found Mandy leaning on her car, watching the playback of the video. “You find anything of interest on that?”

  She shut the camera off. “Not yet. Nobody stood out during the service, but I’ll need to watch the whole tape back at the station,” Mandy put the camera on the front seat. “It was a nice service.”

  “Yeah. He’ll be buried with a private funeral in his hometown.”

  Mandy got in her car and I leaned on the top, looking down at her. “Buddy and Sarah are having a small get together at their place. Do you want to go?”

  “When?”

  “About an hour from now.”

  “I don’t know. I really should look over this video.”

  “It’s just a small barbeque, and you get to hang out with me.”

  She smirked at me. “Can I ride with you?”

  “Of course.”

  She rolled up her windows and got back out of the car. Satisfied it was locked and the video was safe, we walked over to the Ranchero. The passenger door squealed when she opened it. “You sure you don’t want me to shoot this poor thing and put it out of its misery?”

  “Quiet, she can hear you!”

  “This thing is so old, if it ever could hear, it’s deaf now!”

  I laughed and climbed in. “She’s never left me stranded, and until she does, I’m keeping her.”

  “I admire your loyalty.” She said it sincerely, like there was a double meaning.

  “Thank you, ma’am. Your problem is none of your cars has lasted long enough for you to get attached.” I started the Ranchero and headed for Buddy’s. “Speaking of which, what happened to your current vehicle?”

  “The dent?”

  I nodded.

  “It wasn’t my fault. I was just sitting there on surveillance, and a guy backed into me.”

  I laughed. “That’s your story?”

  “It’s true. The best part is when the patrol officer ran his license, the guy had a warrant against him, so I arrested him.”

  I looked at her in disbelief. “So even when you get in a wreck, you come out smelling like a rose.”

  She laughed. “I guess so. It’s what I do.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Buddy and Sarah live in a small matchbox house, yellow with a white shingle roof, and white trim. Two windows ran across the front of the house, one on either side of the front door, and each was shaded by a white aluminum awning.

  The lawn was manicured and divided in two sections by a cement walk
from the street to the house. In the backyard, a towering oak provided plenty of shade for the small gathering.

  As Mandy and I came around the side and through the gate, I watched her expression. Her gaze immediately traveled to the rows of graves behind the house.

  She touched my arm. “Is that Peter and Paul Cemetery?”

  I knew how she felt about cemeteries. “Yes. Peaceful, isn’t it?”

  “Creepy is more like it.”

  “What’s creepy?” Buddy had walked up behind us.

  “Hi, Buddy. Mandy was just saying she’s not a fan of cemeteries.”

  He regarded her with humor. “Really? They’re one of the quietest places I know.”

  She wasn’t about to let us get the best of her. “Yeah, dead quiet.”

  Buddy and I shared a laugh at her expense.

  “Detective Myers, nice to see you.” Sarah Daniels had followed her husband, and embraced Mandy. “How have you been?”

  “Good, and you?”

  A tiny woman with white hair and a delicate nose, she had bright eyes that usually radiated joy, but not today. “We’ve been good, at least until the death of poor Brother Timmons.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Sarah hooked her arm through Mandy’s. “Come with me then.”

  Buddy and I watched the two women walk away. He nudged me with his elbow. “That’s a very special lady there.”

  “I know. You were blessed when Sarah came into your life.”

  “I don’t mean Sarah. I’m talking about Amanda, she has a strong spirit.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Buddy. I’ve been fond of her for years.”

  He stood back and looked at me. “And?”

  I grinned. “And what?”

  “How does she feel about you?”

  “We’re just friends.”

  He was staring intently now. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I shook my head. “I guess you’d have to ask her.”

  He smiled. “I just might do that.”

  Normally, I would argue with him about getting involved, but my attention had been drawn to the far end of the cemetery. A large figure was watching us.

  I excused myself, went into the house, and out the front door. Jumping in my car, I drove down Primm Lane to Gravois Street, and turned right. A couple hundred yards down, I turned into the main entrance to Peter and Paul Cemetery.

  Stopping long enough to get my bearings, I was about to continue toward where I saw Harbinger, when I sensed he was near. I scanned the immediate area and spotted him as he stepped out from behind a mausoleum.

  Even standing more than twenty yards away, Harbinger was an imposing figure. Bald and easily six-three or four, he wore a black trench coat that was always buttoned up to his neck. The most unnerving thing about him was his gray eyes, which shimmered, seemingly in constant flow.

  His real name was Steve Mason, and he’d been a Runner for over a hundred years. At least two Chasers had met their death by his hand, and in each case, he’d absorbed some power from the dead men. That power gave him insight to how Chasers operate.

  I was too angry to be afraid, exactly what Buddy and Gary Edwards had worried about, and I’d even forgot I didn’t have my blessed sword. He’d hurt those close to me, and I wasn’t going to allow it to happen again.

  I got out of the Ranchero, and started toward him.

  “That’s far enough, Chaser!” His voice boomed at me, coming in waves, stopping me by its sheer force. “I am not here to engage in battle.”

  “I know that. You’d rather pick on little people who can’t fight back.” Have I mentioned I get sarcastic when I’m pumped up? Alright, I’m always sarcastic, but more so at times like these.

  He was unfazed by my tone. “I have been on the run much longer than you have been chasing. I did not accomplish this by being stupid.”

  “You’re point being?”

  “The spiritual conflict we are part of is about survival. Yours versus mine. I will do whatever is necessary to survive.”

  “Which includes killing innocents?”

  “Timmons was not an innocent, he was a soldier of the Chasers. However, I am not afraid to kill an innocent.”

  “Look, Mason...”

  “Do not call me that! I am Harbinger.”

  “Your name is Steve Mason, and you’re a Runner.”

  His gray eyes flared to a smoky orange. “You will regret calling me that!”

  “And you will regret ever coming near my friends and family!”

  His eyes cooled back to the flowing gray. “Consider this your last warning. The people around you will continue to die until you renounce your call to chase.”

  He stepped back behind the mausoleum, and I could sense he was gone. I stomped back to the car.

  Warn me will you, Mason? I’m gonna find you and put you down like a rabid dog, if it’s the last thing I ever do.

  I ignored the little voice in the back of my mind suggesting it might be just that.

  *******

  When I arrived back at Buddy’s house, Mandy was looking for me. “Where were you?”

  “Me? Oh, I saw someone I thought I knew and went to catch up with him.”

  “Saw him where?”

  “In the cemetery. Weird, huh?”

  “That’s one word for it.” Mandy was squinting at me now. “Did you catch up with him?”

  “Who?”

  “The friend.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah. He’s good.”

  Time to escape, Jack! No more questions.

  I saw Buddy and waved. Buddy came over to where we stood. “Where did you take off to?”

  “I saw an old friend near the far end of the cemetery, so I thought I’d catch up with him.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Maybe. His name is Steve Mason.”

  Buddy’s instantly flashed with recognition. “Oh yeah, how is he?”

  Mandy was listening, and now she was eyeing both of us suspiciously. “Wait, how does Buddy know him, but I’ve never heard of him before.”

  We both shrugged.

  “You two are acting very strange. I’m going to say goodbye to Sarah. Drop me back at my car, Jack?”

  “Sure.”

  When she’d walked away, Buddy took me by the arm, and steered me to the back fence. “What happened?”

  “I saw him down there.” I pointed to the spot. “When I got around to the entrance, he was waiting for me.”

  “And?”

  “And he gave me another warning. He said the people around me would continue to die until I renounced my calling.”

  Buddy stared at me. “Why did you go alone? You know how dangerous he is. Did you have your sword?”

  I paused and checked my waistband, giving him a sheepish grin “Actually, no.”

  He shook his head. “Now you understand why we didn’t tell you about him hanging around, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  Mandy returned. “You ready?”

  “I am.” I shook Buddy’s hand. “Tell Sarah goodbye for me.”

  “I will.”

  *******

  Before dropping Mandy off at the station, I mentioned Danny Unser wanted me to say hi to her.

  “So you talked to him. Was he any help?”

  “I don’t know, he’s supposed to call me back today or tomorrow.”

  She smiled. “He’s a good guy.”

  “I’m sure he is,” I mumbled.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.”

  She looked at me with a curious stare, but didn’t press. I dropped her by her car at Journey Chapel and headed directly to the office.

  When I got in, my answering machine blinked red, signifying a message. I pushed the replay button.

  “Jack, this is Danny Unser. The address you gave me is a rental house. Burt Cummins lived there w
hile his son was in the hospital. Apparently, he and his wife had a baby at Children’s Mercy Hospital, and there were complications.”

  I heard some paper shuffling before he continued.

  “The child spent three months in the Intensive Care Unit, but eventually died. He’s buried in Floral Hills Cemetery. That’s all I’ve got, hope it helps. Bye.”

  I replayed the message and wrote down the name of the hospital, as well as the cemetery.

  It’s quite possible my Runner went to visit his son’s grave.

  The drive across I-70 took a little more than three hours. I looked at my watch. It was nearly six. I needed to pack a bag, get gas, and have a bite to eat before hitting the highway. I’d do well to get there by ten-thirty, but at least I could search at first light.

  Having decided, I closed up the office and headed for home.

  CHAPTER 11

  I arrived on the outskirts of Kansas City around eleven and got off the interstate. Checking in to an EconoLodge, I collapsed on the bed and was out cold until the wake-up call came at six the next morning.

  After showering and grabbing a quick bite from the free breakfast buffet, I headed off for Floral Hills Cemetery. It had only been a few days, and it was likely I could still catch Burt Cummins at his son’s grave.

  I’d been on a stakeout, one of my first jobs as a Chaser, when I realized I didn’t know how a Runner got around, nor how fast. For all I knew, I was staking out a place the Runner had already visited days before, or might not get to for a week. I’d asked Buddy about mode of travel for a Runner.

  “Just like the name says, they run.”

  It seemed odd to me. “Why not take a bus, or stow away on a plane?”

  “Eventually, Runners will do those things, if they’re around long enough. New Runners are confused and afraid. They’ve run to accomplish something, but want to stay clear of people.”

  My experience thus far had told me a Runner usually covered fifty to seventy-five miles a day, if he made a straight line for somewhere. That would put Burt Cummins in Kansas City today or tomorrow.