He sipped noisily from it, but this didn't seem to stir the Deputy. Williams cleared his throat and walked around the desk, examining the paperwork. Nothing new seemed to be added to the stack, since the last time he was in, short of the note from when old man Jenkins had called in from the bridge. Williams cleared his throat, and leaned down, examining the sleeping man.
“Hadley?” he whispered.
No movement.
“Deputy?” Williams said a bit louder, but still in an overall soft tone.
For his considerate attempt at waking the Deputy, Hadley snored. This irked the old Sheriff, who stood upright, and made his way behind the sleeping man. He raised the cup to his lips, and took another loud sip from the steaming cup of java, before reaching in his shirt pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He lit it, and took a long inhale, followed by another loud drink, and then cleared his throat.
“MICHAEL!” the Sheriff bellowed.
An explosion of sensory awareness hit the Deputy all at once, and he nearly fell back in his chair before jumping to his feet, and drawing his gun, looking around. His eyes wide with fear, confusion, and adrenaline. The Sheriff was bent at the waist, laughing hysterically, as the Deputy sorted out what had happened. He grumbled, holstering his gun, before crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yes, sir?” Michael asked, not amused.
The Sheriff stood upright mimicking the young Deputy, as he continued to laugh, and took another drag off the cigarette. “Can't take a joke very well, can you?”
“I was just resting my eyes.”
“You were snoring.”
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“Michael, you ain't married are you?”
“No, sir.”
“No kids?”
“No, sir.”
The Sheriff nodded to himself, staring into his coffee.
“Why do you ask?” the Deputy inquired, lowering his arms.
“Oh, I was just curious. Was thinking about my sweet Martha today, that's all. Look, can you do an old man a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Old man Jenkins' truck is down by the bridge. But Jenkins ain't there. I'm worried he done wandered into the woods, and you know he got the old-timers issue in his head.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I was wondering if you'd be willing to go down to the bridge, and take a look around the other side for me? I ain't one for walking much these days, and you're a bit younger. I need to go let his wife know what the sitch'iation is as well. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course. I'll let you know when I find him. He couldn't have gotten too far.”
“Much obliged.”
The Deputy gathers his things, and heads for the door. When he gets to the entry of the room, he stops and turns around, noting the cigarette in the Sheriff’s hand. “You know it's illegal to smoke indoors, right, sir?”
The old man chuckled, grinning at the Deputy. He glanced down at the cigarette as he flicked the ash on the floor.
“You don't tell, and I won’t tell you was sleeping on the job. Savvy?”
Hadley weighed this a moment, before nodding and exiting the room defeated. The Sheriff took another long drag of his cigarette, followed by a sip from his coffee.
The cop car sat at the turn off for the dirt road that led down to the bridge. Hadley decided to park here, and search for Jenkins on foot. As he made his way towards the bridge, he scanned the tree lines, and tripped over a branch. He growled picking it up, and threw it into the woods.
“Way to send the newbie out here to wander through the fucking woods! I'm old, I'm your boss, I don't have to do the shit work anymore, you do the shit work,” he mocked of Sheriff Williams and grumbled, as he made his way closer to the bridge. “Born and raised in Boston, I take this cake walk job nobody else wants, and they stick my ass out here in the woods searching for some crazy old codger. Not my fault he has Alzheimer’s. Put his ass in a home, or something.”
The Deputy kicks a rock, sending it flying off the ledge past the bridge, and it falls into the water below. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and storms along.
“Jenkins! Mr. Jenkins! You out there?!” He screams, as he stops at the edge of the bridge, turning around. He notices Ray's car sitting at the entrance of the bridge, and does a quick walk around it, assuming whoever it belongs too has already crossed over to the old town. He notes the lit pumpkins on either side of the entrance to the bridge, as he starts to cross over.
As he strode across the bridge, he couldn't help but notice the various holes in the wood. None of them were particularly large, except for one off to the side. He made his way to it, and looked down to the water below.
“Please don't be down there dead,” Hadley whispered as he knelt down to the hole, sticking his head down into it.
Nothing. At least so far as he could see, but the river may have washed anything downstream as well. Hadley jumped though, when a loud neigh echoed across the bridge. He bangs his head on the wood, and groans grabbing his scalp, looking around. There's no horse to be seen.
“Hello? Mr. Jenkins? Anybody out there?” He yelled, looking both ways down the bridge.
After a moment of no response, he climbed to his feet, and continued his way across the bridge. As he walked along the path, he noticed the waning sun, and clouds coming in. It would be dark soon, and probably raining. He wasn't going to find the old man in that weather.
“Mr. Jenkins! Deputy Hadley! We spoke on the CB earlier? You out there?”
He peered into the trees, but there wasn't much to make out. They were thick in most spots. Bushes, and piles of fallen leaves hid a lot of the rest.
“MR. JENKINS!” He screams out. Birds fly away at the loud noise, but still no response.
He continues on down the path, as the buildings slowly come into sight. He stops at the same cooler everyone else has, and looks down at it, noting the absence of any owners.
“This is Deputy Hadley, anyone out there? I'm looking for an elderly man, name of Jenkins! Anyone?” Motion in one of the upper windows of the nearest home catches his attention, but he can't make out the appearance. “Mr. Jenkins, is that you?”
The body moves away from the window.
“God damn it. I swear, if you're some kids trying to fuck with me, I'm going to taser each and every one of you! I promise you that!”
He makes his way to the house, stepping in over the pile of scrap wood that used to be the door. Hadley takes his flashlight from his belt, and clicks it on, turning it around the dusty room. An old brick fire pit adorns the corner, and various pieces of furniture lie in shambles around the room.
The Deputy makes his way through the room, and into the dining area, where the stairs going up wait on him. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, pointing the light up them.
“Come on down? Police!”
He waits for a response. Nothing. Then several steps echo on the wood above his head, and then stop.
“Mr. Jenkins? Come on down, sir! I'm here to take you home!”
Still no response. He exhales heavily, and storms half way up the stairs.
“Look, Jenkins, I want to get back to the car before it starts pouring...” he cuts off half way through, as he shines the light at nothing.
He slowly starts to turn on the stairs, and finds the Horseman towering above him on the ledge where the rail had long since broken away.
“What the fuck?”
The Horseman reaches down and grabs Hadley by the head, lifting him off the stairs with ease. He hangs there, several feet above the ground, as the Horseman's massive grip tightens on his skull. The Deputy beats at the Horseman's hands and arms, but to no avail. As the Horseman's grip tightens, blood begins to pour from Hadley's nose and eye sockets. He gags as bone and cartilage crack.
“Nuhhhhhh – ahhhhhhhh!” He screams out as his skull caves in.
The flashlight falls to the steps and bounces down to the floor below. The Horseman flexes once,
applying more pressure, and the cop's Skull splits along the top, to his chin, brain puffing out like a muffin that was ready. Blood oozed down his face.
The Horseman turned, and threw the officer's body against the wall behind him. The Horseman stands there a moment, before walking around the ledge of the stairs, and making its way down the staircase, heading back outside.
CHAPTER XII
The van pulled off the highway, and made its way down the ramp slowing to a stop. They knew they had reached a fairly desolate stretch of land, when there is a wooden sign screwed to the stand of the faded metal stop sign that reads “gas”, with an arrow pointing down the road. Dougie pulls to the edge of the exit, staring at the sign.
“What's the matter?” Caleb looks over at his friend.
“You ever get that really bad feeling, like fuck your life up type of feeling just crash over you?” Dougie looks at Caleb, putting the van in park
The others 'boo' and groan from the back of the van.
“Yeah. When I had sex with your sister. Come on, man. It's going to be dark soon. Let's go!”
“I don't know.” Dougie shakes his head, staring out the window. “Maybe we can find a gas station further down?”
“I think you got a contact buzz from the weed, and you're paranoid. Dude, we don't know where the fuck we are. Just drive down the road to the gas station. The fuck you being such a pussy for?”
“Eat a dick.”
“Blow me. Drive man, come on.”
“Come on!” Danny yells from the back.
“Let's go, I need a drink!” Sam tosses in.
“I'm getting cramped back here,” Tina whines.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Dougie snaps back to all of them, looking over the back seat.
The van instantly gets very, very quiet. After a moment of awkward silence, Kat climbs between the seats, rubbing Dougie's shoulders.
“It'll be alright, buddy. We're just asking for directions and going to a party. What's the worst that could happen, right?” She smiles at him.
“Right,” he nods, putting the van back in drive, and heading down the road.
The van rolled to a stop at the one gas pump outside of the measly gas station. A garage door sat at the back, where at some point there may have been a basic auto shop, but now the rusted door was just blocked off by old bicycles, tires and lumber.
As the group filed out of the van, they stretched and several of them paced in small circles to get the feeling back in their legs. Danny started doing jumping jacks, and overly-exaggerated stretches.
“The fuck are you doing?” Caleb watched him, confused.
“My legs are too long to be so cramped up back there. I don't want to get a blood clot.”
“Going to prevent one by sticking your head between your legs, and kissing your own ass?” Caleb asks, grinning.
The rest of the group laughs. Harold starts to take a joint from his pocket, but Amir smacks him on the arm, pointing off to the side. Most of them had seemed to miss the old police car sitting there, with Sheriff Williams sitting in it, thumbing through some paperwork. Harold clears his throat, and slides the joint back into his pocket.
The rest of them turn their attention away from the cop car, attempting to be as discreet as possible. Sam comes up behind Tina and pinches her ass, causing her to jump and squeal out, bouncing away from her. She bumps into the cop car and Williams looks up at her angrily.
“Sorry,” Tina raises her hands, pushing away from the vehicle.
Everyone laughs at her, as they enter the gas station. The inside was just as beaten up and ancient as the exterior. Dusty windows, buzzing small fans, and a bug zapper hung in the corner. The paint on the walls had long since faded, and the tile was cracked and some pieces had chunks missing. Items on the shelves were relatively up to date, as various candies, chips and beverages line the aisles.
The old woman, Mrs. Jenkins, was as old in appearance as the building she was in the employ of. Overweight, hair in curlers, and spectacles held on her head with a small chain. The faded purple moo-moo was her wardrobe of choice for this particular day of work. She glanced up from the magazine she was thumbing through to look over the top of her glasses at the kids as they entered.
She watched as each one made their way by, some nodding and even saying 'hello', but she didn't return much of a reaction. Amir, Kat and Tina wandered down the cooler aisle, perusing the various beverages. Harold and Sam grabbed at various bags of chips, their eyes still bloodshot from smoking in the van. Caleb walked to the front counter, staring at the small selection of smokes behind old Mrs. Jenkins, and Danny felt over the different candies.
“Hey. Hey...” Caleb snapped his fingers in the old woman's face. She glared at him, turning her attention from the kids in the aisle. “Can I get a pack of Menthols?”
Mrs. Jenkins grabbed a pack from behind her head, and tossed them on the counter. Caleb took his card out, and extended it to her.
“Cash only,” she spoke through missing teeth. Each syllable giving a bit of a whistling sound.
“What do you mean cash only? What gas station doesn't accept credit cards?” Caleb looked befuddled.
“This 'un,” she nodded.
He looks down at his wallet, shaking his head, “I don't have any cash on me. Nobody carries cash these days.”
“Then you ain't got no cigarettes,” she grumbles reaching for them.
Dougie raises his hand, stepping up next to his friend. He laughs, reaching in his pocket and taking out his wallet. Caleb looks at her angrily, and starts to walk away, but Dougie rests a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
“My friend will have his cancer sticks, and I'll take twenty bucks in unleaded, please,” Dougie grins at her.
She clicks her teeth together, staring at him for a moment before taking some of the cash for the cigarettes. “Ain't got no gas.”
Dougie nods, picking up his cash. He knows better than to argue with his elders. Particularly old local white ladies. He and Caleb both jump and turn as a crash echoed throughout the store. Mrs. Jenkins stretched her neck to look past them. Tina covers her mouth with her hands, looking over her shoulder to find the group watching her as she looks back to the broken beer bottle on the floor.
“I'm so sorry, I'll pay for that,” Tina stammers, looking at the perturbed old woman behind the counter.
“Damn right you will, and you're gonna clean it up, too. Mop is over there in that corner, girl.”
Tina's head tilts in surprise, and looks around at her friends who are all still staring. Kat shrugs at her, and Tina sighs, walking to the mop. Danny takes this particular opportunity when no one is looking to grab a couple candy bars from the shelf and slide them in his pocket. As he starts to take a couple more, Sheriff Williams' calloused hand grabs him hard by the wrist. The others turn to see what's going on.
“The fuck?” Danny turns, before realizing it's a cop that has ahold of him.
“Now I know you wasn't thinking of doing what you was thinkin' of doing, were ya?” Williams growls at the college student.
“That depends what you think I was thinkin' of doing?” Danny mocks, grinning.
“Stealing from nice old Mrs. Jenkins is what it looks like,” Williams retorts.
“Or I was just putting the stuff in my pocket until I got to the counter so I had my hands free to carry more shit,” Danny quipped.
“Likely story.”
“Well, you can't prove that's not what I was doing either, so get your fuckin' hands off me.” Danny glared at the old cop.
“What you kids doin' in my neck of the woods, anyways?” The Sheriff inquired, releasing Danny's wrist forcefully.
Danny grabs his wrist before angrily taking the items from his pocket and putting them back on the shelves. Williams walks slowly around the gas station looking at each of them, as he passes. He stops, and tilts his head taking an extra-long look at Tina's ass as she bends over mopping, before turning his attention back to the rest.
“What about you, towel head? You here to cause trouble?” Williams asks Amir, staring him down. Amir lowers his eyes to the ground, and shakes his head 'no'. The Sheriff chuckles moving on. “Good lordy, are you a male or a female?” Williams asks Sam, looking her over. When she does nothing but roll her eyes, he moves on. “Cat got your tongues? You – boy – what you doin' here?” Williams nods to Dougie.
Dougie grits his teeth at the condescension, but exhales and smiles. “We're on our way to a Halloween party, is all. Was hoping to buy some gas and get some directions, is all.”
“Well, where you trying to go?”
“Baskerville.”
“Shit, you long ways past Baskerville. Turn for that is about forty minutes back on the interstate, exit 121,” Mrs. Jenkins spoke up.
The thought of another forty minutes back the way they came clearly didn't sit well with most of the kids. At least not the ones stuffed into the back of the van. Harold threw his hands up in frustration, before walking outside. Amir, Sam and Danny have had enough and join him. Tina finishes picking up the glass and pushes the mop and bucket back to the corner where she got it from.
“Exit 121, alright. We'll be on our way then,” Dougie nods to the old woman.
He starts to head out, joined by the rest of the group. Caleb takes a cigarette out, lighting it, as he walks past the Sheriff. The old man grabs him by the arm.
“Let me get one of those off you,” the Sheriff nods at the new pack of smokes.
Caleb looks at the pack of smokes in Williams' shirt pocket. “Looks like you already got some.”
“I do. But I want one of yours.”
The two of them stare back at one another for a moment before Dougie taps Caleb on the arm. Caleb shakes his head and takes a cigarette from the pack, giving it to the cop. The old man takes the cigarette and lights it up.
“Enjoy,” Caleb nods.
“Way to be an asshole, Pig,” Jackie mumbles as she walks past Williams joining the rest.
“Hold up a second,” Williams stops them. Dougie, Kat, Caleb, Jackie and Tina all stop at the door and turn around, looking at him. “There's a quicker way to get where you wantin' to go than to get back on the highway. You're just going to go in a big circle. I can tell you how to cut straight across.”
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