By the time Pete found the kid - his face smeared, his body twisted, bloated and ripped apart, just like old man Withers - seven more residents of Bayside were dead.
And all of them - the three old Harrison sisters, Reverend Allgood, Mr. and Mrs. Cole, and the guy who ran the Army Surplus store - had a strange purple knot at the base of their skulls.
And all of them had died screaming.
About ten miles from Bayside, the countryside rolled and pitched like the waves of a bright green ocean. The fields, filled with crops, bumped right up against the mountains on the left side; on the right, the mountains slowly transformed into beaches that bordered the ocean.
A mile south of where Highway 1 intersected with Highway 3, an unmarked, paved road veered to the right, slicing back through the green fields toward a small farm.
The small, yellow house sat at the end of the road, Tessa Cosindas’ house. She’d lived there for years.
Tessa did things simple. She sold fruit, vegetables, and homemade jam during the summer from her roadside stand. In the winter, she made real wool sweaters with wool harvested from her sheep.
For two decades, Tessa had worked the earth, tended her animals, and sat in the sun enjoying a quiet, peaceful life.
Then, a few months ago, her visions returned.
Today Tessa wasn’t working in the fields. She hadn’t picked up the pecans and walnuts that dotted her lawn. Instead, she just sat on her porch and cried.
She cried because her past had returned; the balance disturbed.
The first time it had happened, she was thirteen, then again when she was in her thirties. Now, twenty years later, the visions had returned: the killer was back. And again, Tessa had seen the people die.
Tessa wanted to tell the police. She had before, but that was many years ago, and the police hadn’t listened.
For the third time that day, Pete Jacobs stared at the large map behind his desk. Dozens of small, yellow pushpins were clustered across a two-mile section of Bayside. Each pin represented a dead person.
Pete walked toward his desk. It was in the corner of a small, dingy, gray and white office filled with metal desks, maps, and a few faded anti-drug posters. Across the back wall sat a million dollars worth of electronic equipment.
“I don’t understand it,” Pete said to the small scrum of men who stood in his office. “All this technology around me and the only thing I can find connecting all these deaths is that they all live in Bayside.”
Marvin Boyd rocked back on his heels and cracked his knuckles. Marvin, Bayside’s mayor, always cracked his knuckles when he was thinking. Of course, Marvin also cracked his knuckles when he didn’t know what to do, or when he was trying to figure out how to get his ass out of a jam.
Pale and sweaty, Marvin reached down and wiped a spot off his well-shined shoes with a chubby hand. “Well, Pete, you gotta do something, ‘cause dozens of dead people on your watch ain’t gonna help you get re-elected.”
Pete slammed his fist on the desk. “Hell, Marv, I know that, I’m not stupid! And I’m not just worried about getting re-elected, you pompous ass. Somebody’s out there killing folks. While you’re polishing your shoes, I’m bustin’ my hump here, trying to figure out what’s going on.”
Race Holder, the medical examiner, stepped between the two men. “Gentlemen, there’s no reason to fight.”
At 62, Race could have retired a few years back, but he liked being a doctor. He certainly looked the part - tall and sinewy with watery gray eyes and a head full of silver hair.
Race wasn’t ready, just yet, to quit. He liked his peaceful life and he wanted it to stay that way.
“I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say we know Pete is doing everything possible to stop this,” Race scowled at Marvin, defying the portly mayor to challenge him.
“I agree,” a young man said. “Pete’s been working nonstop, he needs our help.” Neal O’Bannon, editor of the Bayside Reporter, stood and walked to the center of the room. He patted the sheriff on the back.
Neal wasn’t the typical Bayside resident. Young, and perpetually dressed in jeans and a sports coat, he liked heavy metal music, dated several women at a time, and had been known, on more than one occasion, to question the motives of Bayside’s political leaders.
“You all can stand around and complain or you can roll up your sleeves and help Pete figure out who’s behind this.”
Marvin cracked his knuckles again. “Well, we’re a small community,” he said. “Could be anyone here. It shouldn’t be that hard. What about that weirdo at the bowling alley? What’s his name…Graves?”
Neal laughed. “Do you really think that this is someone local, Marv? Honestly, with the collection of busybodies living in this town, a local wouldn’t stand a chance. Besides, you’re just pissed off at Charley Graves because he gave money to your opponent. It ain’t Charley. No sir, something else is goin’ on.”
Marvin leaned toward Neal. “Well, who do you think it is? Mister from-the-big-city newspaper editor?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. But I do know that you should never speculate without facts, and we don’t have many of those. Pete has his people working around the clock. He’s called in the state police and requested help from the FBI. What else would you have him do?”
“I… I don’t know,” Marvin said. “But we gotta do something. The Coles were friends of mine. This can’t go on.”
Marvin turned his round face toward the medical examiner. “Race, isn’t there anything else you can tell us?”
Race Holder really didn’t want to talk about the autopsies. Bayside folks were simple, honest, and hardworking; if he told them the truth, the shock would push them over the edge.
Hell, Race hadn’t even talked to Pete, yet. He knew the exam on old man Withers was solid, but right at the moment, he wasn’t ready to talk — not even to the sheriff.
Race looked around the room. “We’re not finished just yet,” he lied. “There are a few more tests we need to run. I… I… need to send some blood samples to Bangor and…”
“You mean you can’t us tell anything?” Marvin rocked back on his heels. His round, white face turned dark. “You’ve had the bodies for close to a month now.”
Race glared at the mayor. “Marvin, I know how long they’ve been there. And I tell ya’, we’re not finished yet. The cause of death is still listed as ‘a possible homicide by person or persons unknown’. That’s all I can say.”
The mayor flopped down in a chair. “Well, I wish somebody would do something. I just don’t get it. I don’t understand why this is so damn hard. I thought you guys…”
From the back, a rough, coarse voice interrupted him. “Ahhhh shut up, Marvin,” the voice said. “What you don’t know would fill an ocean.”
Elijah Kent stood and walked toward the door. His bony, wraith-like frame moved stiffly through the small office.
“Why… why, Elijah, I didn’t realize…” Marvin looked away from the worn, gray-haired old man. “…I didn’t see you back… back… there. I didn’t know your ship had returned.”
Elijah sat down in a small wooden chair. He leaned back against the door and pulled his long, greasy hair back.
“That’s because you’re too damn busy listening to your own gums flap. Good God, Marvin, you were born yammering and now, more than forty years later, that fat, over-fed mouth of yours ain’t shut up yet. This town ain’t had a moment of peace.”
The mayor puffed and turned his back to the old man. Elijah pointed a withered, shaky finger at the sheriff.
“Pete ain’t been here long enough to know. And most of you are too young.” The old sailor scratched his head. “Now you, mister newspaper editor, well, I’m not too sure about you, yet. But the rest of you either don’t know or you just don’t understand. You don’t have any idea what you’re facing here.”
Race Holder looked at the old man. “Elijah, I know what you’re gonna say, but you and I have already ta
lked about that. Don’t go spreadin’ a bunch of old spook stories that won’t do anything but get people all stirred up.”
Elijah stood and drifted toward Pete’s desk. He leaned against the front of the desk and pointed to the map on the wall.
“Stirred up? Hell, Race, people are droppin’ like flies and you’re worried about getting people stirred up? Look at that map, Doc. You know where all those bodies were found. Put two and two together. You were here back in ’71. You tell me a better reason for having so many folks dead.”
Race loosened his tie. “I know… and I’m not disputing that fact. But… it’s just…”
“Well, I certainly would like to know what in the hell you two are talking about,” Pete said.
Race nodded. “You’re right, Pete. Sorry.” He turned to the other men. “Earlier today, Elijah came to see me. He said he thought a friend of his could help. But I really don’t think…”
“That’s your problem, Doc,” Elijah said. “You don’t think. You haven’t been thinking and you’re not thinking now.” He swept a stack of papers, files, and the telephone on Pete’s desk onto the floor.
“Now, you bastards, listen up, ‘cause I’m only tellin’ this once. I lived here a long time and I don’t plan on stoppin’ just yet.”
Elijah settled his thin, skeletal frame on the desk. “Used to be a sailor. Been all over the globe. Even spent a little time in the Navy. Ain’t much I haven’t heard and even less I haven’t seen.”
Pete scowled. “I… don’t understand how this is going to help the investigation. I really need to get…”
Elijah coughed, then pushed more files onto the floor. “Now like I was sayin’, I’ve seen it all. Anyway, more than thirty years ago, I dropped anchor here at Bayside. Liked the look of the country and the size of the town. Didn’t know about Bayside then. But me, not bein’ big on cities, thought Bayside was the perfect place. Small. Comfortable.”
Marvin rolled his eyes. “Is this really necessary? Honestly.”
Elijah dismissed Marvin with a wave of a bony hand. “Anyway, I hadn’t been here very long before I met Tessa. Tessa Cosindas.” The old man smiled. “She was young and beautiful then. And, well sir, for a while, we were pretty thick.”
“Will you get to the point?” Marvin shuffled his feet. “We don’t have all night.”
“If you’ll shut up, I’ll be g’tting there a lot quicker.” Elijah took out a brown clay pipe, stuffed it with tobacco, and lit it. “Now, like I was sayin’, I was squirin’ Tessa around and things were going real nice.”
He puffed out a ring of blue smoke. “Then she started seeing things. Horrible things. Death and blood and pain, things like that. Saw folks’ faces all twisted and messed up. Then the folks she saw, well sir, they started dyin’.”
Neal O’Bannon leaned forward. “Are you saying that this woman you used to date might be the killer?”
Elijah shook his head. “No sir, that ain’t what I said at all. Tessie wouldn’t hurt a kitten. And she was always with me when the killin’s happened. But she… well, she’d start seein’ things… in her head… as they happened. She’d see the face of the person gettin’ killed.”
Pete cocked his head. “This the same lady that has the fruit stand off Highway 1?”
“Yes sir.”
“I’ve heard of her,” Pete said. “Now, you say she saw who was being killed? When?”
“This was years ago,” Elijah said. “I was a lot younger then and, well, I just thought she was crazy or hopped up on dope, something like that. I got spooked and pulled up stakes. Left her cryin’ on the dock.”
“So why are you telling us this now?” Neal asked. “If it was so long ago, what does that have to do with these deaths?”
Elijah took another long draw on his pipe. “Mister newspaperman, that’s the second intelligent question you’ve asked tonight, so I’m gonna answer it: I’m telling you boys this because Tessie called me the other day. Said her visions had returned. Said she saw Withers, that punk Currier kid, and a bunch of other folks die. She was all cryin’ and the like.”
“I don’t believe a word of this,” Marvin hissed. He turned toward Elijah. “That’s the silliest story I’ve ever heard. Elijah, you’re an old fool. I know this woman and she’s nothing more than an ex-hippie trying to make a fast buck.”
Elijah slid off the desk and stood, his face shrouded in smoke. “Well you can laugh all you want. But if I was you, Mr. Sheriff, I’d go see her. ‘Cause I think Tessa may know a helluva lot more than anyone thinks.”
“If you think she’s so damned important, why don’t you go talk to her?” Marvin whined. “Let these people get on with what they need to do.”
Elijah looked down at his boots. “I ain’t seen Tessa in years,” he said, his voice quiet. “And I don’t plan on goin’ back. That was all a long time ago.” Neal O’Bannon looked at Pete. “You know, Pete, if you want, I’ll go out there with you. Who knows? This woman may know something that helps.”
“Or Marv may be right,” Pete said, “and Tessa may just be crazy.”
The woman was close to fifty. Tall, slim, with that look that said she was perpetually stressed. Tessa saw her, in her mind. The vision woke her.
In her head, Tessa saw pearls, a cream-colored suit, new shoes - a businesswoman. The woman’s silver Lincoln was stalled on the side of the road. She stood next to the car, cell phone in hand, yelling - reading the riot act to some poor soul on the other end.
Tessa scrunched her eyes. She tried to make the vision go away. She covered her ears with her hands and burrowed under the covers of her bed. Outside, the rain fell against the roof.
Another flash, and Tessa saw the woman’s face up close; she was heavily made up, her face harsh and angular. She saw the woman’s tight, thin lips part. Then the woman screamed.
The screams pounded Tessa’s ears like a thousand drums being beaten all at once. Tessa saw blood and flesh and pieces of the woman fall away. She saw something strike the woman’s head. She heard the flapping of the buzzards’ wings as they descended from the sky, ready to feed on the woman’s corpse.
Another flash; she saw the dead woman’s face, smeared and distorted.
After that, everything faded to black.
By the time Pete reached Tessa’s farm, the sun had dipped low against the horizon, painting the sky a bright, fiery orange.
Originally, Pete wasn’t going to talk to Tessa, but after a week, and another grisly death, he had his back to the wall.
He was angry and frustrated. He’d done everything he could to protect people, yet the dead were stacking up like firewood. And Bayside, the little village he loved living in, was coming unraveled.
People in town were frightened; he knew. And frightened people did stupid things. If he couldn’t stop the deaths, Pete knew, Bayside was a time bomb waiting to explode.
Already, the town selectmen had circulated a recall petition to get Pete out of office, and Marvin, still pissed off about Elijah’s lecture, had been the first one to sign.
Things were bad, Pete thought. He just prayed they didn’t get any worse.
He had gone back and forth over the whole idea. This wasn’t what he had been taught. Law enforcement was methodical, organized. Good police work, Pete believed, did not involve asking for help from people who had visions.
But what if Tessa did know something? That thought, along with the fact that Pete was just about ready to pull his hair out, now had him sitting in his Jeep, in Tessa Cosindas’ drive.
Something Wicked Anthology, Vol. One Page 12