JOURNEY (THE CHASER CHRONICLES Book 2)

by John C. Dalglish

  Floral Hills Cemetery was about two miles from the zoo, on the south end of the city, and consisted of a large L-shaped piece of property. The main structure was a fourteen-hundred-seat chapel, which was used to hold large funerals.

  The Floral Hills Funeral Home was on the east side of the cemetery, and served as a welcome center, as well. Going inside, I found a directory of every person buried at Floral Hills. I let my finger run down a page of Cs, flipping twice, until I came upon Cummins, William Burton.

  A pen, attached to the desk by a chain, rested on a small pad. I wrote down the location.

  “Can I help you?”

  I turned to see a middle-age woman with brown hair and green eyes. She wore a forest green jacket with the Floral Hills emblem over her heart.

  “Oh, hello.” I looked at her name badge. “Caroline, is it?”

  “Yes, Caroline Higgs. Are you looking for someone’s stone?”

  “Yes.” I looked at the note in my hand, then handed it to her. “I found the location. Can you point it out?”

  “I’d be glad to. Let me see.”

  She studied the note, then waved for me to follow her as she walked over to a large map on the opposite wall.

  “The grave is located in this section here." She traced her finger along a road, back to the parking lot behind the funeral home. “Follow this road back to the west and you’ll come to it.”

  She handed the note back to me. “Is there anything else?”

  “No, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

  I turned and went to the Ranchero. Leaving the parking lot and following her direction, I quickly came to the section listed on the note. I stopped and turned off the car.

  Looking across the entire section, I could see no sign of Burt Cummins. What was worse, I couldn’t sense him, either. I’d either guessed wrong, or he wasn’t here yet.

  I looked at my watch. Ten o’clock. Getting out of the car, I walked up to the general area of the grave. After reading several dozen grave markers, I came across a very small stone, almost covered by the grass. I knelt down, and pushed back the edges of the lawn.

  WILLIAM BURTON CUMMINS.

  The sun was already hot, and I decided to park under a shade tree and wait. The tree I selected put me about a hundred yards away, with a good view of the area.

  Getting back in the Ranchero, I reversed to the spot, and slouched down in my seat. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mandy.

  “Detective Myers.”

  “Hey, Mandy. I thought I’d call and see how the investigation is going. Anything new?”

  “Hi, Jack. I’m afraid not. I still don’t have a description, haven’t located the murder weapon, and can’t find a single person with a motive to harm Brother Timmons.”

  “Man, that’s tough. Where do you start?”

  “Well, I thought the video would give me something, but that’s a dud. At this point, I’m hoping somebody at the church calls with some information.”

  “I know how you are, Mandy. Don’t beat yourself up over the case. If it can be solved, you’ll do it, and if it goes cold, it won’t be your fault.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  Some movement caught my eye. A figure was going from tree to tree, scanning the area, before moving on. It was definitely Burt. How did I know? He was the only clown I expected to find at the cemetery today.

  “I’ve got to go, Mandy.” I hung up without waiting for an answer, and climbed out of the car.

  By the time I’d walked slowly up to the grave, Burt Cummins was kneeling in front of his baby son’s stone, and I could hear him weeping.

  I carried with me the blessed sword, and the wood cross, which hung around my neck. He didn’t hear me come up behind him, and when I laid my hand on his shoulder, he lurched to his feet.

  Backing away, red shoes flopping awkwardly, his eyes were wide with terror. “Who are you? Why can you see me? Are you the devil?”

  The last question hurt. Do I look like the devil?

  “Burt Cummins?”

  “Yes.” He wasn’t running, but he kept his distance. “Who or what are you?”

  “My name isn’t important, but I’ve been sent to cross you over. You don’t belong here anymore.”

  His eyes went back to the small stone. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, I just wanted to visit my son once more.”

  “Didn’t you realize your son would be waiting for you on the other side?”

  He hesitated. “I guess, but I wasn’t sure.”

  It occurred to me there might be more to the story. “Is that the only reason you ran?”

  He looked at me with surprise. “I guess it’s hard to hide things in the afterlife.”

  “It’s my job to know.”

  He nodded. “I want to see my grandson perform. His first show was to be today with my wife, my kids, and me. I can’t believe I won’t get to see it.”

  “I’m sorry about that, but you need to cross over.”

  “What if I don’t cooperate? What then?”

  “Then, I’m afraid I’ll have to force you over.”

  An idea flashed across his face. “Can you take me?”

  “To the other side?”

  He shook his head. “No, to my grandson’s performance.”

  For crying out loud! Does this happen to other Chasers? Why do my Runners seem to all have a final request? This wasn’t in the manual.

  Oh wait, there was no manual.

  “I don’t know, Burt. I’m supposed to cross you over as soon as I can.”

  I was on guard for him to run, but what happened next surprised even me. He dropped to his knees, held his hands as if he was praying, and begged me through tears to grant him this kindness. It made me very uncomfortable. I never thought of me having power to grant wishes.

  I’m not a genie in a bottle!

  Still, the man posed no threat to me or anyone else, he wasn’t on a mission to warn his family about the afterlife, or punish someone for a wrong done to him. It was my call, and I made it with my heart.

  “Burt, stand up.” He did. “I am a man, and you don’t need to kneel to me. I have no power but what’s granted me by God, but I will help you.”

  A smile, mixed with hope, crossed his face. “Really?”

  “Two conditions.”

  “Name them.”

  “One, you don’t leave my side. Understood?”

  “Of course.”

  “Two, you do exactly as I say after your grandson performs.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  “If you violate either of these, I will cross you over immediately.”

  He grasped my hand with both of his, and shook it. “Thank you.”

  I just made a deal with a Runner! This job gets weirder by the day.

  I realized I needed to get moving. Someone could be watching me talk to myself. “Are you done here?”

  He knelt down next to the small stone, kissed his fingers, and touched them to his infant son’s name. When he stood up, his eyes had dried. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Let’s go to my car. What time is the first show?”

  “One.”

  I looked at my watch. Eleven-thirty. We had an hour and a half to get to the circus. We got into the Ranchero and left the cemetery. I was relieved no one could see the clown sitting next to me.

  CHAPTER 12

  The American Big-Top Tours circus was set up southeast of Kansas City, in the Cass County Fair Grounds. We arrived at twelve-forty five, and went first to the ticket booth. While Burt didn’t need a ticket, I most certainly did.

  After purchasing my entrance to the fairground, I had Burt follow me to the top row of seats, on the far end. I wanted as few people as possible to see me talking to myself.

  Burt was behaving himself, and in fact, had thanked me more than ten times on the way over here. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t help feeling good about fulfilling this man’s last wish, even if it was after he was dead. I was still on guard,
but I didn’t sense a mean bone in his body, or maybe I was being fooled by the clown makeup.

  The Master of Ceremonies came out and began to rev up the crowd. The tent was about half full for the afternoon show, and with the sun beating down, it was pretty stuffy in there.

  Burt nudged me. “That’s Frank Cicero. He’s been the Master for over twenty years, and he’s the best.”

  Frank was introducing the opening act, the tiger tamers, when he was interrupted by a crazy, honking yellow car. While Frank acted annoyed, the car did several circles around him, then went to the center ring.

  Once the car had stopped in the middle of the center ring, a giant puff of purple smoke shot out of the back end, accompanied by a loud backfire.

  The Master of Ceremonies went over to the car. “Get this car out of here!”

  A clown stepped out of the car and indicated it was dead.

  Frank waved at the crowd. “These people want to see the tigers! You have to push this old jalopy out of the way.”

  The lone clown went to the back of the car and leaned on it, but was unable to move it. He then stood up and snapped his fingers. Going to the passenger door of the clown car, he opened it and another clown climbed out.

  The two of them went to the back and tried to push the car, still with no luck, so they got more help from the inside the car. A third, then a fourth, a fifth, and finally, a sixth clown stepped out of the small car.

  Laughter filled the big top as I watched the look on Burt’s face. His gaze was glued to the car. “Burt, which one is your grandson?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Watch.”

  I turned to see the six clowns pushing on the back of the car, but still unable to move it. The first clown went back to the car door and spotted a handkerchief hanging out from under the car’s hood. Frank pointed at it. “What’s that?”

  The clown shrugged, grabbed the end of it, and started to pull. A long series of handkerchiefs, all different colors and tied together in a string nearly twenty feet long, came out.

  After pulling these handkerchiefs out for nearly two minutes, the string suddenly tightened and no more would come out. The clown tugged but got nothing.

  With encouragement from Frank, the clown reared back and yanked. Flying out from under the hood came a small clown, holding the end of the handkerchiefs, and the crowd went wild.

  Burt clapped his hands and whistled through his fingers. I was the only one who could hear him, but that didn’t seem to matter. Joy radiated from the old man’s eyes.

  The six full-grown clowns began to argue, ignoring Burt’s grandson as he dusted himself off. The adult clowns started pushing and shoving each other, while the little clown went to the back of the yellow car and put one hand on it. Burt’s grandson started pushing the car out of the arena, waving to the cheering crowd with his other hand.

  I found myself laughing out loud at the show, and when I turned to look at Burt, he was watching me. “He’s good, isn’t he?”

  I nodded. “I imagine he takes after his grandfather.”

  The old clown’s eyes moistened. “I’m ready to keep my end of the bargain.”

  I reached down onto my chest, took hold of the blessed cross, and held it out to him. “Just put your hand on the cross.”

  He stole one last quick look at the retreating clowns, then reached for the cross. A blinding flash, only seen by me, and he was gone.

  I sat there for the rest of the show, not because I’d paid for it, but because of the joy in my heart. Helping a man cross over with peace brought me great satisfaction and I just wanted to bask in it for a little while.

  *******

  When I got back to my car, I opened my cell phone and checked for calls. I never carried my phone with me on a chase. It had proved costly the first time I fought a Runner, when it rang at the wrong time.

  The only call was from Buddy. I listened to the voicemail.

  “Jack, this Buddy. Call me when you get this. We need to meet and plan for what’s ahead.”

  He hung up without saying goodbye. I started the Ranchero and found my way to I-70 East. Once on the interstate, I dialed Buddy.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Buddy. It’s Jack.”

  “Hi, Jack. Where are you?”

  “I’m on the interstate heading back to St. Louis.”

  “Oh? From where?”

  “Kansas City. I tracked a Runner here and crossed him over just a little while ago. What’s up?”

  “Brother Edwards has been in touch, and he wants to see both of us at Journey ASAP.”

  “Well, I should be back in town around dinner time.”

  “Good. Come by the house and I’ll ask Sarah to fix us something to eat.”

  “Sounds great. See you in a few hours.”

  I hung up and concentrated on my driving. One of Sarah Daniels’s dinners was waiting for me, a meal only topped by my own mother’s cooking.

  *******

  I pulled up at Buddy’s house just before six-thirty. The smell of something delicious met me at the front door. I knocked.

  “Come in, Jack,” Sarah called. “Buddy is in the backyard.”

  I went in and through the kitchen, stopping to inspect dinner, before going to the back patio. It was stew and fresh biscuits.

  I have no idea why Buddy doesn’t weigh four hundred pounds.

  I found Buddy standing at the edge of the yard, staring off into the cemetery. I walked up next to him. “Hi, Buddy.”

  He didn’t look at me. “Hey, Jack.”

  “So, when do we meet with Gary?”

  “After dinner.” He sipped his iced tea. “It’s coming, Jack.”

  He tended to get all spooky when he sensed something big. “What’s coming?”

  “Harbinger is going to force our hand. I know you won’t quit, so we’re going to have to find him and stop him. He’ll just keep picking off people until we do.”

  “I agree, but we need to find a way to meet him on our terms.”

  “I may have an idea for that.”

  More cloak and dagger. “I guess you’ll share it when you’re ready?”

  Sarah called us for dinner. Buddy turned and I followed. “Dinner first, then we meet with Gary. I’ll go over it then.”

  He enjoys it way too much when he can be secretive and make me wait!

  CHAPTER 13

  After dinner, we rode in Buddy’s car to Journey Chapel. Neither of us spoke, partly because we were stuffed from a great dinner, and partly because we both sensed the importance of the next few days.

  Parking in back, we were met at the door by Brother Edwards himself, not by Brother Timmons, and the memory added to the feeling of anxiety starting to take hold.

  We followed the pastor down the hallway, but before we went into his office, he stopped and gestured at the wall. Buddy and I looked up to see a framed picture of Brother Timmons. He’d joined the wall of Chasers and Counselors who had finished their race. Some faster than others, all of them too soon.

  Once inside the office, we each got a cup of coffee, then settled into the chairs near the wall of windows. Gary stared out at the late summer evening, and we sat quietly, waiting for him to begin. I could tell his mood matched our own.

  He turned and looked at me, managing a smile. “Buddy tells me you were on a chase in K.C.”

  “Yeah, a clown.”

  “A clown? Like a circus clown?”

  “Yup.”

  “You never know where the Lord’s work will take you, or who you’ll meet. Everything went well, I suppose.”

  I nodded.

  “Has Buddy ever mentioned the Council?”

  I looked at my mentor, then back at the Gary. “Only in passing. He said there’s an oversight group responsible for Chaser conduct.”

  Buddy nodded. “I’ve had very little contact with them myself.”

  Gary set his coffee down and leaned in close to me. “The Council is a group of twelve men, chosen by the Lord Himself,
to oversee the work of all Chasers. They are my bosses, for lack of a better term, and I have many more dealings with them than you or Buddy ever will.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything I should say, so I held my tongue, which was no small feat for me.

  The pastor continued. “They have contacted me regarding the death of Brother Timmons, and more specifically, about Harbinger.”

  He sat back. “Buddy is near retirement, and you are still relatively inexperienced, but the Council feels the best opportunity to stop Harbinger is with the two of you working together.”

  He paused, looking from me to Buddy, and back again. “As I imagine Buddy has told you, Chasers working as a team is unusual, and not something the Council recommends lightly.”

  This still puzzled me. “Buddy had said that, but it seems to me a team would be more powerful.”

  “True, a team can be, but they have to be one hundred percent on the same page, share the same interpretation of the same vision, and agree on the same solution. Otherwise, it puts both Chasers in danger.”

  “How so?”

  “Has Buddy told you about his experience with Justin, when they teamed up against Harbinger?”

  “Yes.”

  “Justin’s death was in part because Buddy and he didn’t anticipate the same things at the same time. It wasn’t Buddy’s fault, but Harbinger took advantage, and a Chaser lost his life.”

  I looked at Buddy, and the mention of Justin brought pain to every feature on his face. Turning back to Gary, my next question seemed obvious. “Why does the Council think things will be different with me and Buddy?”

  “Two reasons. First, Buddy as the mentor, is far more experienced than Justin was when they met Harbinger. Second, the power of the Spirit is far stronger in you than it was with Buddy back then.”

  I looked to Buddy. “And you agree with them?”

  “I do.”

  “Does the Council have any suggestions on how we’re to defeat Harbinger?”

  “They’ve left that up to you and Buddy.”

  I knew he was going to say that. We have their blessing but they have no idea how we’re gonna do it!