Detective Pearce’s voice was low. “That woman’s lawyer got involved. A guy named Jack Bierce. They got in touch with my superior and he arranged to not have you arrested for filing a false police report. When I later ran a query on your original criminal complaint, I couldn’t find it. The entire file had been wiped from the system!”
“I don’t want to be involved,” Jim said.
Pearce continued as if he didn’t even hear Jim. His voice had taken on a slightly panicked tinge. “I tried running a check on Jack Bierce, to see what firm he worked for, and couldn’t find one. I asked my superior about this and I was told to drop it. I came home from work – I’m calling you from home, on a secure LAN line – and did some research on Jack Bierce utilizing my sources and as far as I can tell, the guy doesn’t exist. My superior, the desk clerks, they all claim to have spoken to him, even met with him in person when he dropped in to persuade my boss to not pursue charges with you...but there’s no record of a Jack Bierce in the California Bar or any other legal association.”
“I said, I don’t want to be involved!”
“I understand your fear, Mr. Cornell. Believe me, I do. But with your cooperation, we could move on this and get protection for your family.”
“I don’t think so—”
“If you don’t help, you can be arrested for obstruction of justice and aiding and abetting.”
If his situation wasn’t already perilous, the thought of being arrested would have been enough for him to cave in. Detective Pearce’s threat of arrest paled by comparison. “How is that possible? From what you’re telling me, you’ve been operating on a hunch. There’s no record of my original complaint. It also sounds like your FBI contact is investigating on an unofficial basis, too.”
Detective Pearce sounded flustered. “Yeah, but with your cooperation we can make it official!”
Jim felt his resolve crumbling as his fear took over. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I can’t talk to you now.”
“Jim, we can help!”
“I’m sorry,” Jim said. He pulled the phone away from him, preparing to hang up.
“You can call me back at this number. It’s a secure line.”
Jim snapped the phone shut, hanging up on Detective Pearce. He sat in his car for a moment, staring ahead at the dark street in front of him and waited for his heart rate to subside.
He looked in the rear and side view mirrors, trying to see if anybody was walking the deserted street. Nobody was out.
When he felt better, he put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. He watched his rearview mirror on the drive home. Nobody followed him.
Detective Pearce’s phone call kept him up all night as he pondered what to do about his offer.
The following day, he made his decision.
And made a phone call.
*
Saturday, 7:00 PM.
Under normal circumstances, the evening couldn’t have gone better.
The day had started on pins and needles. He’d woken up with Nancy’s words from a few nights ago in his ears. We used to stick up for each other. It was us against the world. Remember? Realizing the mistake he’d made, he’d made it a priority to have a talk with Nancy before she and Sarah left for the weekend—they were going to visit her parents, who lived in Newport Beach. They would return Sunday afternoon. He quickly told her a summation of the solution he had to help them and she listened silently. He wasn’t sure if she believed everything he told her in its entirety, but he had a pretty good feeling that she believed some of it.
Stephen Golding was a chatterbox. He talked endlessly about everything that had occurred in his life since Jim Cornell’s layoff. What was going on at the company since Jim’s departure, the work he’d done on his house, the recent activities he’d been involved in with his church group, and his recent hobby of collecting comic books. “Comic books?” Jim asked, surprised.
“Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing,” Stephen said. They’d just finished their meals and were waiting for the check. They were at the steakhouse and Jim had managed to stay calm so far. The conversations he’d had with Detective Pearce last night and this morning were still on the forefront of his mind. “I had a great collection when I was a kid. I was into Spiderman, X-Men, The Thing, Howard the Duck, and The Avengers. I was big into collecting and kind of lost interest when I went to college. But lately I got the bug again. I was at my parents, just visiting, and my father mentioned the collection. He was telling me I could probably get some good money for it, and I went to the spare room where I’d stored them in the closet and basically carted five boxes of comics home. I just went through them and relived my childhood and teenaged years. Fell in love with them all over again.” He’d grinned. Through the middle-aged lines on Stephen’s face, the thinning hair, the twinkle in his hazel eyes behind the glasses he wore, Jim could still see the kid in there. “I guess that’s what helped ignite the old fire.”
The rest of the dinner went amazingly well.
But as it drew to a close, Jim began to get nervous for what was to follow.
*
Saturday, 9:30 PM.
As Jim Cornell led Stephen Golding through the heavily wooded area of the Lower Devil’s Canyon, which was high in the hills of the San Gabriel Valley, that conversation ran through his mind again, along with the separate conversations he’d had with Detective Pearce and Julie Montenelli this morning. And thinking about those conversations brought the turmoil back again.
Please God, I hope I’m doing the right thing, Jim thought. I just want to do the right thing.
Stephen didn’t even raise a fuss when Jim suggested he drive them up into the San Gabriel Mountains so he could show off the land he’d inherited. “Talk about weird things,” he’d said in the car after he’d broached the subject. “My grandfather left me with this land up in the hills. I want to build a house on it, but I’m not sure if it's even feasible. And I figure with, you know, since you built that place in Big Bear, you could take a look at the land and give me some pointers.”
“I’d be glad to!” Stephen exclaimed. Stephen had inherited land in Big Bear years earlier and had a cabin built on it. “And I’d love to see the land. Lead the way!”
So Jim had driven them up the winding hills of the San Gabriel Mountains, and when he reached the turnoff Julie had mentioned in her instructions to him this morning, he pulled over and shut off the engine. “Here we are.” He had a small flashlight, which he turned on and used to help light their way down the path that led into the arroyo Jim had talked up during their drive. “It’s a narrow canyon, it’s very beautiful and people have built similar homes along its ridges. Nearest neighbor would be about a mile downhill and—”
There was no discernable path to walk on. Jim led the way, his feelings conflicted as he led Stephen calmly over the chaparral. The only way he could keep some kind of semblance of normalcy was to keep the conversation going. Stephen listened, making comments as Jim made note of the terrain. “I know it’s remote up here, but that’s part of the appeal,” he said. “There’s a road about two miles east that will serve as the official road the cabin will be built from. The road I took you down is the back way. It’s easier to gain access to the area I plan to build on.”
Stephen was looking at the hills and the sky, as if searching for something. “I know they have power lines that run to the top of the mountain, but I don’t see any in this section.”
“I’m looking into what it will take to get power on up here,” Jim said.
This morning’s arrangements with Julie had been nerve-wracking. When he called her he came right out and told her about Detective Pearce’s phone call from last night. He didn’t want her to think he was going behind her back. She’d thanked him, and assured him his honesty was being taken into consideration. Then she’d given him instructions for tonight. “This is what you will tell Stephen,” she’d said, relating the story he’d just told his old friend earlier at dinner and on th
e walk up the hill. “I will call you with directions on your way to Stephen’s home. Don’t divert from them.” She then gave him another set of instructions. Jim assured her he wouldn’t divert from the directions to the location, and that her instructions would be carried out. He’d hung up, then immediately called Detective Pearce and told him he was ready to cooperate.
“I’ve always wanted to have a place in the middle of nowhere,” Stephen said. “But this is kinda crazy. I mean, you’d be way out in the middle of rattlesnake country. And what about the schools? How would your daughter get to school?”
“School bus,” Jim said, feeling a nervous pit of fear settle into his belly. His limbs were shaking the deeper they walked into the canyon. Jim hoped it was too dark for Stephen to see his nervousness.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. There’s a handful of families that live in these hills. The school district has a bus system that provides transportation for the kids that live up here.”
Nancy’s voice continued to echo in his mind. I don’t care what you have to do to get us out of this. Just do it.
Detective Pearce, from last night. If you don’t help, you can be arrested for obstruction of justice and aiding and abetting
Julie Montenelli’s words to him two weeks ago. We can control the outcome of your daughter’s illness. She will be dead in less than twelve months. She can go much quicker if you fail to cooperate.
I don’t care what you have to do—
—if you don’t help, you can be arrested—
—just do it—
—will be dead in less than twelve months—
And as the voices chased each other in Jim’s mind, the night seemed darker than ever despite the abundance of stars in the evening sky.
*
Sunday, 5:30 PM
He heard Nancy's car pull up in the driveway the following afternoon, Sunday. He thought about what he’d done today to set their lives right. So far, all was okay. Eventually, though, they might face some repercussions.
But not if he could help it.
When the front door opened, Jim was ready. They spilled in, Nancy shutting the door behind them. “Go on and put your things away,” Nancy told Sarah, “and I'll get supper ready.” He heard the patter of his daughter's feet scamper down the hall to the bedrooms and then Nancy was rounding the corner to the living room, stopping in surprise at Jim standing there. She almost dropped the overnight bags she was carrying. One hand flew to her mouth in surprise. “Jim!”
“Nancy.”
“My God, you scared the living daylights out of me! Why—” The expression on her face changed from surprise to concern. “Jim! What—”
“Daddy!” Sarah’s squeal interrupted Nancy as Sarah leaped into Jim’s arms. “Daddy! Daddy! We're home!”
“Yes, so I see,” Jim said, laughing as he hoisted his daughter up and kissed her. Holding Sarah tugged at his heartstrings as he held her.
Nancy had looked tired when she and Sarah walked in. Jim caught her gaze briefly and nodded. In a jovial tone, he said, “Hey, how ‘bout dinner gang! I’ve got some stir fry all ready.”
“Yeah! I’m hungry!” Sarah ran into the kitchen as Jim followed her. Nancy trailed after him.
He had the table set and he served them up hearty portions of the Oriental Chicken Stir Fry he’d started preparing an hour ago. He’d been quite a chef when he and Nancy were dating, and in the years they were married before Sarah was born he’d put those skills to use in the creation of their meals. As they ate he asked them questions on how their weekend was. Sarah offered most of the answers: she’d had a great time going to the beach and collecting sand crabs and building castles and playing with the Baumgartner twins up the street from her grandparents. Nancy said she had a good time as well; she’d caught up on her sleep and had mostly lain around. Jim smiled and nodded, in command of the situation and the dinner conversation, doing pretty well at putting the weekend behind him. As they ate, he noted that Nancy picked at her food with less enthusiasm than she would normally have. Her eyes were dark, her expression worried.
When Sarah was finished she set her utensils on the table. “I’m done. Can I go play in my room?”
“Of course honey,” Jim said. He rose from the table. “Come on, I'll take your stuff to your room.”
When he returned to the kitchen, Nancy was clearing the table. The tension in the room had gotten thick again. “Everything went well this weekend,” Jim said.
“Did it?” Nancy’s features were still dark, heavy with contemplation, but he could tell that she was nervous now.
“First things first,” Jim began. “Even though everything went well this weekend, we’re going to need to make some changes, like we’d talked about. Get out of California as quickly as possible. Get Sarah the best care. Everything’s set. I made the necessary arrangements with Julie Montenelli and Detective Pearce in two separate phone calls before I started. We’ll be long gone before anybody pays us a visit.”
Nancy could only look at him, a sense of relief in her features that seemed to have turned cold and calculating to Jim in the past twenty-four hours. “Did Stephen...see it coming?”
Jim sighed. “No.
They were silent for a moment, looking at each other. “Then it’s done then.”
“It’s done.”
“Sarah will get better.”
“Of course she will.”
“When should we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning, if possible.”
Nancy nodded in agreement. “The police?”
“Taken care of.”
“And Julie?”
“Likewise.”
“Everything else is set then?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
And as they went about the task of collecting the things they would need, doing it in a casual matter to ensure Sarah didn’t get too curious, Jim hoped he’d done the right thing.
###
Also by J. F. Gonzalez
Clickers
(Co-written with Mark Williams)
Click Click Click Click
Phillipsport, Maine is a quaint and peaceful seaside village. But when hundreds of creatures pour out of the ocean and attack, its residents must take up arms to drive the beasts back.
They are the Clickers, giant venomous blood-thirsty crabs from the depths of the sea. The only warning to their rampage of dismemberment and death is the terrible clicking of their claws. But these monsters aren’t merely here to ravage and pillage. They are being driven onto land by fear. Something is hunting the Clickers. Something ancient and without mercy.
Clickers II: The Next Wave
(Co-written with Brian Keene)
The first wave was just the beginning...
The United States is in ruins. It has just suffered one of the worst hurricanes in history, the people are demoralized, and the president is a religious fanatic. Then things get really bad - the Clickers return.
Thousands of the monsters swarm across the entire nation and march inland, slaughtering anyone and anything they come across. But this time the Clickers aren’t blindly rushing onto land - they are being led by an intelligence older than civilization itself. A force that wants to take dry land away from the mammals.
Those left alive soon realize that they must do everything and anything they can to protect humanity no matter the cost.
This isn’t war, this is extermination.
Clickers III: Dagon Rising
(Co-written with Brian Keene)
They thought it was over, but the second wave was only the beginning. In the aftermath of the Clickers and Dark Ones’s siege and a coup against an insane President, America rebuilds. Change has come, and a better future is promised to all. But promises can be broken and there may be no future at all because deep beneath the ocean a new terror awaits. Dagon, god of the Dark Ones, is waking up...and if humanity doesn’t stop him, then mankind will face extinction.
Trapped o
n a South Pacific Island, the cast of Clickers and Clickers II: The Next Wave join forces with a mysterious group of occult agents to face off against the Clickers, the Dark Ones, Dagon, and an all-new threat - the deadly obsidian Clickers. The stakes have never been higher. Dagon is rising...and humanity will fall.
Survivor
Author’s Preferred Edition
Before Hostel...before Saw...there was Survivor.
It was supposed to be a romantic weekend getaway. Lisa was looking forward to spending time alone with her husband, Brad, and telling him that they are going to have a baby. Instead, it becomes a nightmare when Brad is arrested and Lisa is kidnapped. But the kidnappers aren’t asking for ransom. They want Lisa herself. They’re going to make her a star - in a snuff film.
What they have in mind for Lisa is unspeakable. They plan to torture and murder her as graphically and brutally as possible, and to capture it all on film. If they have their way, Lisa’s death will be truly horrifying...but even more horrifying is what Lisa will do to survive...
It Drinks Blood
New Castle, Pennsylvania, during the tail end of the Great Depression.
Robert Brennan has never completely forgotten those days, even though he has tried to forget them. But when the nursing home he lives in receives a patient he remembers from those dark darks, it takes his mind back to a period marked by terrible, blood-soaked violence...the very kind marked by the twisted perversity of the stories he used to write for the weird-menace pulps...the kind marked by the real-life fiend that stalked the hobo jungles in search of fresh blood!
Do Unto Others Page 9