by J. Z. Foster
“I think you’re both missing the big picture here,” Beth cut in with a nervous smile. “How did they know we were there, and how do we know more won’t follow?”
Chapter 12
“A fire at the library, eh? You want a matching pair of arson felonies tonight or something? Boy, do you know that library was the pride of Bridgedale? That library had been there since this was a booming coal town. It’s got history.”
“Oh, seriously?” said Richard without a hint of sarcasm.
With a roll of his eyes, the lawyer’s speech was painfully slow. “The P.D. here ask you about a fire in the library? No? No one mentioned that? Strange. Now Richard, don’t you think something like a library fire would have drawn a little attention? A house, deep in the woods as you said, may go up in flames unnoticed, so long as it don’t go catching up the forest around it. But you do think there’d be a little concern passed over something like a library, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Richard agreed, admitting his own confusion. “Haven’t quite worked out that part yet.” Still on edge, his hands shook as he came down from his earlier surge of anger. He finished his can of cola and sat in silence.
“I’m sayin’ your story don’t necessarily fit the facts. Ya’ll were getting your asses beat pretty good from what you were saying, right? Broken ribs maybe, broken ankles, concussions? Not to mention all them little bastards biting everyone. How’re you still up and walking after all that?”
“Actually, no one got it too bad. Ted maybe, but he’s a tough guy, he pulled through. He might have cracked a rib or something, I really don’t know much about it. I was fine though, mostly just shook up. Few scratches and what not.”
“But you said them lil pig-babies was biting you all up, yeah? Something like your neck, arms? Maybe one of the legs too, yeah? Let’s see those little bites.”
“Yeah, sure.” Richard said confidently, as if he thought Minges was playing games with him. He rolled his sleeve up to show his arm, but it was clean—no bites. “What?” he moved quickly to pull up his pant leg—no bites there either. “No, no, they bit me!”
Am I going insane?
“Right.” Minges smiled and nodded before he fell into another fit of coughing. After several loud, hacking coughs, something in his throat came loose. Minges picked up Richard’s empty cup and spit into it. He set it back down in front of Richard. “Sorry about that son, no trash cans in here.”
I would really like to punch this guy in the head.
“Listen, son, if you admit you’re not well, we can start to work our angles and get this goin’ in a better direction, yeah? Don’t you think it’s time we start thinking about step two?”
“That mean you’re done listening to me?” Richard wasn’t giving up just yet. “If you’re done listening, then I’m done talking. About everything.”
Minges scoffed. “Come on now, old boy. I’m on your side for this, ain’t I?” He huffed. “Don’t go all puffing your chest up on me, we’re the same team, yeah?”
Are we?
Something stirred in Richard; he wasn’t sure he could be on the “same team” as a half-drunk attorney who thought he was insane. Staring into Minges’s blue-gray eyes for the hundredth time that night, Richard wondered what a man like Minges could do to help him when Minges didn’t believe.
Richard’s eyes grew wet with tears. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. Everyone was counting on me, and they’re all dead now. They’re all dead.” Trying to hold it back was futile; the tears came heavier and rolled down his cheeks. “I’ve been a useless waste my entire life, and now I find some people that need me, that really need me, and where are they now? Where am I? They’re dead and I’m in an interrogation room. I don’t even know how I got here.”
I’ve lost my mind. The witch won. He took my mind and made me kill Beth.
“There, there, son,” Minges said with lines of sadness stretched across his face. “Don’t you go stressing too much. Best of us can crack under the right circumstances, yeah?” He set his hat upon his head, which seemed to make him more professional all at once. “Ain’t nothing new, just you rolling the dice and getting snake eyes, yeah? But let’s not get hung up here feeling sorry for ourselves. Let’s hear what happened next, after that library. Y’all were hell-fire and burning rubber on the way outta there. What happened next?”
“Why do you even want to hear this? You’re not taking any notes. What’s it matter?”
“Don’t you go worrying about that, old boy.” He tapped his head. “I gotta head like a tank. Ain’t nothing getting loose.”
Richard started to nod. “Wait, what do you mean, head like a tank? Are you talking about like a water tank or an army tank, because neither really have anything to do with that.”
“There you go again!” Minges jumped up and pointed at him. “There you go, worrying about how I’m saying something more than what I’m saying. Come on now, we’re burning good time talking about water tanks and whatnot.”
“Well, with what we had, I had determined to do the best that I could, given that we were dealing with a blight warlock. So that meant finding the right thing to fight ’em with. But we were also getting tracked. There was a little debate, and we decided to go on the defensive. We needed to mask our auras, try and do whatever we could to cover our scent, to make it harder for him to find us.”
“Interesting.” Minges nodded. “So you think this witch is watching you move around? He sent the pig-babies into the library to go get your ass?”
“Yeah, it sounds stupid, right? I don’t care.”
“No, just making sure we’re on the same page here. Not any more stupid than anything else, right? How’d a witch find ya’ll anyhow? Can they do that sort of thing really easy? Then, hell, why don’t he just send some pig-babies right on in here and get you?”
Richard’s shoulders slumped. “He still might.” The thought had certainly occurred to him. “But we did what we could do to hide ourselves from him, shield our auras.”
Minges fell into another fit of hacking coughs and pulled out a tissue to dab his mouth. “How exactly did you do that? Hide yourself from ’em, that is? You whip up some doohickey to keep this all goin’? This one ain’t gonna end with you lighting the place up again, right? Fire certainly seems like a common theme with these events.”
“No, no fire. As for hiding yourself, though, anything is possible with the right incantations and components. Some of it does require innate ability or force of will. But that’s just the really powerful stuff. So it was just a matter of looking through my book and finding the right passage.”
“Where’s that book anyways? I’d be curious to take a glance at that old thing. Might be a good little prop for the jury, add a little flavor to your plea of insanity.” Minges’s fat lips smiled with self-satisfaction.
“I don’t know where it’s at, I told you. Maybe it’s still in the van? It’s still a little hazy.”
“Good ol’ head injury will do that, son.”
“Well, things are coming back in pieces. I remember heading to the gas station.” His eyes darted to the now-blank television screen.
“Hold up there, son. Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s take it back a minute. What’d you do after you left the library? Curl up into a lil ball? Sounded like you was pretty hard-hit from that last one. Something like that can break a man’s mind, even if it’s already broke.”
“No, I can’t explain it. I mean, I was afraid, but I got through it. We all bounced back quickly. We had to. There just wasn’t enough time to process all of this; I mean this kind of shit flips your life around. People build religions on stuff like this. It’s hard to believe God isn’t real when you see the devil’s eyes.”
Minges gave him a lazy smirk. “Suppose so. What happened next?”
Richard gritted his teeth and tried his best to sound tough. “Well, we knew the son of a bitch was following us somehow…”
“We know this
son of a bitch is following us somehow.” Ted groaned and squeezed the steering wheel.
The wight had fallen asleep, or so Richard thought. He wasn’t sure if wights even slept.
“I think we need to have a serious discussion here, though, before we go another step farther,” Ted said from behind the wheel. “And that is the why.”
“The why for what?” Richard asked, leaning up to the front seats.
Ted took a deep breath and pulled to the side of the road. “Why is it we’re doing this? Richard, this has to be a talk between me and Beth. I’m sure you understand,” he said, dismissing Richard.
“Sure, yeah I guess.” Richard leaned back and folded his arms.
“Beth, what are we doing here? What is our goal here? Are we here for this story? Because the camera is gone.”
The color had returned to Beth’s face. She was still splattered with flecks of blood, and she wiped them away as she spoke. “The camera might be gone, but the story isn’t, Ted.” She pulled away from the mirror to meet Ted’s eyes and cleared her throat. “You know, there was a British reporter who went into Africa to report on the Liberian civil war. He was there as an observer, following the rebels and writing his report. He went in as a third party, a non-participant. He saw atrocities there, he saw men tortured and killed. You know what he came to realize, though? They were torturing people for his benefit. For him to see. Him being there had an active effect on that situation, on people’s lives. He had control of what was happening, even if he didn’t know it at first.”
Her hair had come loose in the fight and now fluttered as she shook her head. “We’re not on the outside, Ted. We’re not here to watch or report on. We’re engaged.”
“Exactly. We’re engaged, Beth. That isn’t our job—it’s his.” He thumbed back at Richard, who had remained quiet. “Are we some damn witch hunters? Is he?”
Richard’s gut twisted. Ted was right, they were woefully unqualified.
Beth ignored him and turned back to Richard. “Why are you here, Richard? You wanted to leave before; do you still want to go now? If you do, we’ll end this.”
Do I want this to end?
Richard sat in silence a moment, reflecting. Without a doubt, he wanted the night to end. He wanted the witch gone and for everything to go back to the way it was, back when none of it was real.
Or do I? I don’t know what this is, but I’m good at it. I know what I’m doing. I’m scared, but in a different way. In what way?
A moment ticked by as the gears in his brain turned.
I’m afraid of dying, but I’m more afraid of being useless.
“No. I want to finish this. I don’t want this city to be hurt by him anymore. I want to stop him. I want to stop the witch.” Beth smiled at him, her eyes sending his heart into a flutter.
“I’m a reporter and I’m going to tell this story, but I do this because I want to help people. I want to do good in this world.” She looked at Ted and laughed. “I’m going to tell this story Ted, but no one is going to believe it. Would you?”
Ted sighed. “No. Don’t think I would. I think if we’re not dead by morning, we’ll be locked up.”
“Maybe. But I don’t want to walk away from this knowing I could have done something. I couldn’t live with myself. I want to help people—that’s what I’ve always wanted. We’re going to get this story and we’re going to make people listen.”
Ted said, “Grandma always told me that if you don’t find your way to God, He’ll find His way to you. I remember the crucifix, Richard. What do you think about all that?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know what God could have to do with any of this, but I have to believe that if there is God, that He’s here with us tonight.”
“So that’s the why, then,” Ted said, gripping the steering wheel tight. “We’re here to kill a witch. So we’re back to asking the question, what the hell do we do now that he can follow us?”
Beth sat up in her seat, dug through her purse, and came out with a tape recorder. “Hold on, guys. We’re going to need to get this all recorded now that we don’t have the video. Okay.” Beth flipped on the tape recorder and spoke into it. “It’s currently 3:16 a.m. We’ve just left the library and Ted has parked us alongside the road. We lost our video camera, our only documentation of what’s been happening. We’re going to start using my tape recorder from here on out. I’m going to question our resident witch hunter, Richard Fitcher.”
Richard stiffened his back and did his best to let the fear roll off him. “Hello! That’s me. I’m Richard Fitcher. I’m the witch hunter. Yeah. We’re hunting a witch.” The words spilled out. Despite the blood in his mouth, the cuts and bruises on his body, or the fear that sat beneath the surface, Richard felt excited.
Don’t screw up, don’t screw up.
Somehow, the idea of disappointing Beth was even worse than fighting a witch that could eat his face and rip his arms off. “It’s a lovely night for a witching.” Richard said it without even thinking.
Shit, did I say that again! Dammit, dammit!
Beth giggled, and Richard hoped that he wasn’t blushing too much.
“Richard, what is your expert opinion of what just happened to us? Could you explain in your own words what we’ve experienced?” Her thin, manicured hands held the recorder just below his mouth.
“We, uh, we went to the library. We were looking for clues on what exactly we’re dealing with, and we did. We got it!” He couldn’t contain the excitement from growing. “But, uh, I’m not really sure what happened next. Some creatures came after us. I think they were Sankai, creatures from Japanese folklore. But I don’t know why Japanese monsters would be here. And, uh—Wait, can you edit out that part where I said I wasn’t sure? Maybe I can do it again and try to sound more confident or something? I mean, I think they were more like the hillbilly version of Sankai anyway.”
Beth silently mouthed the words It’s okay and then spoke herself. “These creatures, they came after us, and we had to fight them for our lives.” Beth took to explaining on her own. “But Richard, why did they come? How did they come? Why didn’t the witch come himself?”
“That part is, uh…” The truth was, Richard had no idea. Why a witch would do anything at all was still a little beyond his own understanding. Richard snapped his fingers. “Well, we weakened the... the son of a bitch.”
That sounded pretty sweet I bet. Wait...
“Wait, can I say ‘bitch’ on here or should I try and keep that kind of thing off? We can redo it with ‘son of a gun’ if you want?” Beth motioned for him to just keep going. “Anyway, we destroyed his name and ward. He’s sending what he has after us. He’s probably holed up somewhere licking his wounds. As for how he found us... Honestly, I don’t really know. It can be from knowing our names or—“
“What!?” Ted yelled from the front seat. “You think he knows our names? How could he know our names?”
“Well, yeah, man. You were freaking possessed. The ghost was inside your head. Isn’t that obvious?”
Ted grumbled for a few moments on his own before Beth spoke again. “Richard, we’ve tracked down information about the witch, and according to what you’ve said, we’ve weakened him, correct? So what’s our next step?”
What’s our next step? That’s the million-dollar question.
The thought perplexed Richard, and he knew that sitting there silently wasn’t lending too much confidence to his “expertise.”
“We feast?” The wight cut in as it stirred awake. “Perhaps bovine flesh would help nurture a strategic mind?”
“Feast?” Ted shot back, “Didn’t you eat like, dozens of little Japanese child monsters back there? How could you possibly be hungry?”
“You have been told, male! My hunger is eternal! My desire unquenchable! Which of these concepts needs elaboration?”
“I’m hungry too, but it’ll have to wait,” Richard said tiredly. “We have to make sure he can’t track us down again. We’
ll have to obscure ourselves.”
“How do we do that, Richard?” asked Beth. “How can we hide ourselves?”
“Just give me a minute.” He looked down at the gore and mess smeared across his shirt, which leaked a rancid smell. “Let me change my shirt first.” He started to dig through his satchel.
“You keep an extra shirt in your purse?” Ted asked with a snort.
“It’s not a purse, it’s a satchel!” Richard shot back. “And I sweat a lot. Uh, can you guys turn around while I change my shirt?” He started to pull the shirt off, careful not to touch any more of the slick gore than he needed to.
Ted rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you look like the type to break a sweat on a flight of stairs.”
Richard pulled on his clean shirt. “And you look like the type that keeps a picture of himself in his wallet.”
“Ha!” Ted laughed at that. “You still need a little work, but you’re getting there, Richard.”
Richard whisked the thought off. “Well, we need to do a few things.”
I’ve got an idea.
Richard went through his tome while Beth watched from the front seat and asked the occasional question. Ted had stepped out to pace in the grass, while the wight idly watched him through the window. The rain had sputtered out again.
“I think I’ve got it.” Richard pressed his finger onto one of the old pages of the tome. “I think he’s a scryer. Yeah, that dick has been scrying in on us. Has to be it! Classic douche move.” Richard was standing up and opening the door to step out, Beth was coming out right behind him.
“What’s that, Richard?” Beth asked curiously, and crossed her arms from the chill.
“A scryer can see where we are. Sometimes they can glimpse future or past events. I think he saw us going into that library and sent the Sankai after us.”
Beth’s eyes widened. “If he sees the future, would he have seen us get past them? Would he know that we’re here right now?”