The Secret: A Thriller

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The Secret: A Thriller Page 2

by David Haywood Young


  Afterward we hurried into the cab of my truck. Before I said anything I pulled out my cell phone and checked its display. “Ha,” I told Tim. “I was right.”

  Tim turned to me. “About what? What do you know?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not that I know anything…but is your cell working?”

  He took it out, looked at the display, tried pushing a couple of buttons, and showed it to me: Blank screen.

  I showed him mine. Same thing. “Okay,” I said. “I don’t know about yours, but mine was charged. So…I’ve never heard of lightning doing this before, but I think what we got was a little bit of EMP.”

  Short for electromagnetic pulse. Tim was one of maybe five guys in town I wouldn’t have to explain that to, so I sat back and waited to see what he’d come up with. He’d been fairly good-humored about all this so far…but the gaze he gave me now was bleak. “Ash. Maybe it wasn’t lightning.”

  I mulled that. “Then…what?”

  “Can you take us home? I’ve got a few beers we could drink while we talk about it. And I think we ought to check on our families. With the power being out and all.”

  My gut clenched. I wouldn’t have believed the lightning could simultaneously knock out cars, phones, and city power either, but the alternatives were…“You seriously think someone did this deliberately? In Henge?” I thought about that, then glanced back toward Walmart—where I’d seen police officers coming in to stock up on emergency supplies. “Chief Eisler told me there was a prison riot.”

  Tim frowned at me, then shook his head. “I don’t see the connection. But this is the first I’ve heard of a riot. And I’m on the list to call if they need help. Last time I spoke to anyone out there was—two days ago?—yeah, Thursday afternoon, when they wanted me to look at a couple of patients. But for what it’s worth, that was completely weird. Both guys were comatose for no apparent reason. And one of them had grabbed hold of a Bible and squeezed hard enough to break three of his fingers.”

  “Jesus,” I said—then wondered if Tim would think I was trying to make a joke.

  But he didn’t seem to notice. “This kid’s grip was still so tight I couldn’t get the thing out of his hands. I gave him a muscle relaxant, but some other doc showed up to take over, so I went home.” He shook himself. “I just got a strange feeling about it. It was as if…as if there there were something larger going on, like maybe they had a lot more cases. But—anyway. That was the day before yesterday and nobody’s said boo to me.” He looked at his phone again, then shrugged and put it back in his pocket. “Though I guess if they’re calling right now I wouldn’t know.” His brow furrowed. “Come to think of it, Ash, I need to check messages from my landline. People might be hurt out there. If whatever happened here affected the whole town, I mean.”

  I wanted a better explanation, but Tim didn’t seem to have one and we probably weren’t going to figure this out sitting in Walmart’s parking lot. After a moment I backed the truck out of its spot, looking around the lot and trying to figure the best way to navigate past the various stalled vehicles. Then I glanced at Tim as we started rolling forward. “You know none of this makes any sense, right? A prison riot, a couple of comatose inmates, town clowns stocking up on supplies, either weird lightning or a possible EMP bomb…I mean, what the hell?”

  Tim shook his head, then leaned back and settled into his seat. “Let’s just get home. Check on our families. Go from there.”

  Chapter Two

  With the storm continuing, power out apparently all over town, stalled vehicles on nearly every block—and clumps of people talking, looking worried, squinting at us suspiciously as we went by—it kind of felt like the end of the world.

  Visibility came and went, from semi-clear to nearly none at all when the rain was pounding on us. Tim sat quietly while I maneuvered. Mostly I could drive down one side or the other of the streets—and some people had rolled their nonresponsive cars and trucks off the road—but several times I had to drive right through people’s yards. I waved and tried to look apologetic as we went, and I hoped nobody was both crazy and armed, even if our town had become a regional center for crystal meth production in the last few years. I didn’t want to mess up anybody’s lawn, but I needed to get home.

  I slowed as I approached Tim’s driveway, but he tapped my elbow and pointed over at my place next door. Our front door was open. Rebecca and Susie stood out in the yard, in the rain, looking spooked. And very wet.

  I normally just pulled into our driveway, but today had turned strange enough that I wasn’t taking anything for granted. If we needed the truck we might be in a hurry. So I took a bit longer and backed in. Feeling ridiculous. But also spooked.

  Sudden laughter from Tim, still sitting next to me: “Holy shit,” he said. “Look at that. Your Rebecca’s packing heat!” He jumped out of the truck and trotted over. “Everybody all right?” he called.

  I shut off the engine and got out of the truck. Rebecca nodded to me, holding the gun’s barrel against her leg, then answered Tim. “So far. And we’re going to stay that way.”

  “Tim,” Susie said nervously, “Rebecca says she saw a naked hairy guy looking through a window.”

  Susie struck me as skittish at the best of times. But Rebecca wouldn’t say something like that unless it had happened. Also she didn’t typically stand around our front yard with a shotgun. Though…I did kind of like the look. My warrior woman.

  I figured this was a bad time to bring up the fact that shotguns could rust, if you stood in the rain with them. I’d oil it later. “Back window?” I asked. “Our bedroom? He was in the woods?”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You’d think so. But no. In front of the house. He was on the roof, watching Abigail through her window.”

  I’d been checking out the neighborhood, but now I looked directly at my wife and then at our open front door. Abigail was our nine-year-old. Blonde hair, green eyes, and a mean right hook for her age—but…

  “Where is she now?”

  “Right here, Daddy!” Abby called, and waved a hand from behind the door. She poked her head out after it, grinning.

  I nodded and gave her the best smile I could manage, then went back to checking out the neighborhood. “Okay. Good job, girls. I’m proud of you. Both of you. So…did anybody see him leave? Which way?”

  “That fucker jumped right off the roof,” Rebecca said. She lifted the shotgun. “I didn’t see where he went after that. But I’m ready for him.”

  I believed her. Susie looked…skeptical, I decided. But I didn’t really care. “Tim?” I asked. “Do you want to go check out your house, make sure everything’s okay, then come back over here?”

  I thought about that for a second, then added: “Maybe you should take the shotgun. The rest of us can stay together until you get back.”

  Nodding, Tim reached for the gun. Rebecca let him take it. “Where are the girls?” he asked his wife.

  “Oh, they’re fine,” she told him. “They’re at the high school. Rehearsing for the Scottish Play, you know.”

  Tim frowned, but Susie didn’t seem to notice. “Robbie’s there too,” she told me. “Helping.”

  Robbie was my 15-year-old son. My eyes met Tim’s. “Let me get a couple of things from our place,” he said. “Be right back.”

  * * *

  It took us nearly an hour to travel two miles to the high school. The thunder and lightning had mostly stopped, but rain fell steadily. When we got there we saw five police cars and two ambulances parked near the auditorium—where the kids should be.

  I parked nose-out again. Tim and I walked up to the open front door. An older police officer, who’d been standing just inside, twisted around when he heard us coming. “Hold up,” he told us. “Nobody’s allowed in here yet.”

  Up till that moment I’d been uncomfortable wearing Tim’s .45 in a shoulder holster he’d loaned me. I didn’t want to shoot anybody, and I’d been worried people might notice the bulge under my rain jack
et. Suddenly, though, it quit bothering me. “Just here to pick up our kids,” I said easily. I kept walking. So did Tim.

  The cop put a hand on his holster. “Chief’s orders. Nobody can come in.”

  “This some kind of crime scene?” I asked, stopping about two feet from him. “Are the kids okay?”

  “Everybody’s fine. We’re just…setting up a shelter. Because of the storm. You know,” he added, “with the tornadoes and all. It’s not safe out there.”

  “Tornadoes,” I repeated. I guessed it was possible, but—

  Tim spoke up. “Well, that’s fine. But we’re taking our kids home now.”

  The cop glared at Tim, and I wondered just how fast the guy could draw his gun. Or would draw it, if we pushed him. Which it looked like we might have to do…then:

  “Damnit, Ash,” I heard from behind me. “Are you following me? Are you just bored?”

  I turned. It was Eisler, our Chief of Police. Again. “Hey, Mike. I guess this is what you were raiding Walmart for?”

  Eisler scowled, but directed his words to the officer blocking our way. “Let ’em get their kids, Compton.”

  “But sir! Orders! We can’t—”

  Eisler raised a hand. “Let ’em go home. We have plenty of people here.”

  Plenty for what? What did that mean?

  Tim hurried into the auditorium, calling for all three of the kids. I stood outside in the rain with Eisler. He glared at me. “This is the last break you get, Ash. And only for your brother’s sake. Things are changing around here. Best you get home, fast as you can, and stay there.”

  I nodded slowly. Was Eisler losing his mind, or was something really odd going on? Either way, we were getting what we wanted. I wasn’t going to argue with him right then.

  “Thanks, Mike.”

  Robbie came out first, looking a little scared. He saw me and his face relaxed, but I shook my head when he wanted to talk. Tim’s girls—Felicia and Rachel, sixteen and fifteen respectively—came out together right after.

  Tim and I herded the kids into Susie’s Forester. Rebecca had an almost identical model…but hers hadn’t started, so we’d had to leave it in the garage. I was driving, because Tim was a better shot.

  Which I could barely believe we were even thinking about. But we were.

  I started up the car, and breathed a sigh of relief when the engine caught. Not that I had any reason to expect otherwise. But just then I wasn’t comfortable making any assumptions.

  In my rearview mirror I saw Eisler still standing outside the auditorium. He glared after us. What was he so mad about?

  * * *

  Tim shushed the kids as soon as we got into the car. “We need to concentrate,” he told them. “Ash has to drive. I need all of you to watch out the windows. Everybody pick a direction. Keep an eye out, but don’t talk unless you see something dangerous, somebody in trouble, or somebody moving toward us. Got it?”

  I figured something must have happened in the school: The kids were spooked enough to do what they were told.

  But we got back to the house a lot faster, since we knew which roads had been blocked earlier. The rain let up a little, too—which meant there were more people outside, looking around and talking in impromptu gatherings. Some of them waved, and I waved back, but this wasn’t a day for stopping.

  By the time we got back to the house, a sense of returning normalcy was hard to fight. I had to actively remind myself that we still didn’t know what was going on.

  Tim got out of the car first, opened the door to my house, and said something I didn’t hear. Soon after, he laughed and waved us over.

  “Go on in, kids,” I told them. And then I stood outside, watching the street, until they had. Trees, waving in the wind…nothing unusual.

  How much of this paranoia was justified? The kids normally bopped all over town on their bikes. I’d rarely been concerned for even a moment, but suddenly I didn’t want to let them out of my sight at all.

  Shaking my head, I went inside.

  * * *

  “Pipe down!” Rebecca yelled. Robbie laughed, but she was right: everybody had been jabbering at once. “We need to come up with a plan. But first we need to share what we know. I’ll go first, then either Ash or Tim. Then you kids can pick a spokesperson. Okay? Good.

  “I was downstairs vacuuming when the power went out. I went up to check on Abigail and saw a…well, a man…on the roof.”

  “Holy crap, Mom!”

  “Quiet, Robbie. Let me finish this. I yelled at him and he jumped—backward—right off the roof. An acrobat or something. Or…he was really hairy, too. A circus performer?” She shook her head. “It was bizarre. I tried to call the police, but my cell was dead and so was the landline. Abby and I went next door to borrow their phone, but Susie’s cell and landline were dead too. We figured it’d be better to stick together, so we did. Okay—other than that we’ve just been hanging out at the house.

  “Who’s next?” she asked. “Tim or Ash?”

  Tim looked like he wanted to talk, so I flapped my hand in a “go ahead” gesture. I was busy wondering what Rebecca had left out—she hadn’t mentioned either the shotgun or that the guy on the roof was naked. What else was she editing?

  Tim looked around. “It’s been less exciting for us. Basically we saw a flash and heard a sound like thunder, and a lot of electronic devices stopped working. All over town, it seems like. Ash and I were at Walmart, and the police were there too. Stocking up on supplies, as if they expected an emergency. Some people’s cars are working, some aren’t. No phones as far as I know—”

  “Mine’s okay but there’s no signal,” Felicia put in.

  “Fine,” Tim continued. “That’s a good thing. So anyway, most phones are dead, and maybe cell towers are out. Maybe not all of them, though, and it might be worth checking that out later. People all over town are looking a little nervous. I think that’s about it for us—the police said they were putting together some sort of shelter at the high school, but you kids were there. Which one of you wants to tell us about it?”

  The kids, all sitting on the couch—although we adults were standing—conferred using gestures and glances. They’d known each other for most of their lives, and they’d always been able to carry on a whole conversation without words if they wanted to. Felicia won the battle, if there was one, and cleared her throat.

  “Guys, it was totally strange,” she started. “The police came about an hour before the power went out, and they were already talking about a shelter. Mr. Donnelly said our rehearsal was canceled but told Chief Eisler we kids would help with whatever they needed. The thing is…there wasn’t much we could do. Rachel and I helped get an inventory of the food in the cafeteria—which was almost none—and Robbie helped carry gym mats and stuff so they could be used for beds. But…nobody told us what the shelter was for.”

  Susie was shaking her head. “None of you thought you might need to call home?”

  Silence. Of course they hadn’t, though. They were teenagers. Hadn’t she met them before?

  I raised a hand. “Okay, everybody. We all know most of it. I think…I think the power went out, and the phones, at least partly because of something called EMP. It’s—”

  “Dad! That’s dope!” That was Robbie, excited but skeptical. “You mean like from a nuclear bomb?”

  I winced as the level of tension in the room rose. “Yes, theoretically, but it didn’t have to—”

  “Ash!” Rebecca interjected. “I was looking outside and saw a really bright light, like lightning but…different…just before the power went out. You’re actually telling me an atom bomb went off in the air? Above Henge?”

  That sounded ridiculous. Which I guessed was her point. “No. I’m saying what we know is consistent with that explanation. For all I know the EMP came from lightning and this is just a bad storm. Um…nobody’s mentioned this yet, but Rose’s husband Hank was called in to the prison early this morning. And Chief Eisler told me there�
�d been riots. That the National Guard was being called in. But Doc Tim here,” I gestured toward him, “says there was something strange about a couple of patients he saw from the prison. Oh, and Eisler also said there had been some escapes. So we all need to stay close to home for a while.”

  Tim was shaking his head. “I can’t put all that together, Ash. So…maybe it doesn’t fit? Maybe there’s something going on at the prison, and the EMP is separate?”

  Susie laughed sadly and took his hand. “Oh, honey. And the police decided to make a shelter at the high school too, which they’ve never done before, for some other unrelated reason?”

  “Mom?” Robbie asked. “Do you think the guy on the roof might have been an escaped convict?”

  His eyes were gleaming. I guessed this was more fun than your typical Saturday afternoon in small-town West Virginia. But my gut clenched whenever I thought of someone—a stranger, on our roof—looking in on my daughter. Making him an escaped felon didn’t help. I thought about saying something…but Robbie would think of that angle on his own fairly soon, I was sure.

  Rebecca pursed her lips, thinking, and I could see she was editing again. “I doubt it, Robbie. This guy was…really hairy, all over. I’m pretty sure the prison requires haircuts and—”

  “All over?” That was Rachel.

  “He didn’t have any clothes on!” Abigail contributed, and buried her face against Rebecca’s stomach.

  I closed my eyes for a moment. I hadn’t realized she’d seen him too. “Okay,” I said, “so if he’s not from the prison he’s one more unrelated…weirdness. We’ll figure it out eventually. Meanwhile, though, I’ve got two ideas: First, we need to get the supplies out of my truck and into the house. Second, I think we should all stick together until this thing is over. That means overnight, at least.”

  Susie pursed her lips, but Tim was nodding. I didn’t bother asking which house we should use. Ours was bigger, and at the end of our cul-de-sac. And it had been a natural gathering spot for family, friends and neighborhood kids since long before I was born.

 

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