Hallowed Horror

by Mark Tufo

  She went to the refrigerator and opened it up. She began pulling things out to prepare for supper, humming a tune as she prepared dinner. Her hands working while her mind danced around with memories of things that she had no way of knowing.

  *****

  Amber bounced between her duties dispatching and unlocking the secrets of the universe held in the dark corners of the computer world. When she had finally unraveled all that there was to know about the two newest victims, it made even her mind spin, and she was not one to be easily surprised. She sat back in her chair and looked at the monitor in front of her, her mouth slightly agape. She shook her head and exhaled tightly.

  “Please tell me this isn’t going to say what I think it’s about to.”

  She typed a few more commands and waited for the pages to open, used the stolen passwords that her photographic memory had snagged over the years and finally got the answer that she was waiting for.

  “Oh, thank God.” she sighed as she slumped in her chair.

  “What’s the problem, Amber?” Eckerson asked as he entered the Sheriff’s Office.

  Amber shook her head in relief. “I’ve been running info on those kids, Jeff.” There was a slight tremble in her voice. “It was starting to get really hokey for a bit.”

  Ben and Jon followed him in carrying their bags and settled in at Jon’s desk. “How you mean hokey?” Jeff asked, crowding in around her screen.

  She hit the print button and began printing out copies of everything she had found. “It’s just strange. Both kids were in the system. In and out of foster care. Both finally adopted later in life. I guess somewhere along the way, they met and fell for each other because they’ve always been really…I dunno…close, ya know?”

  “Okay, but what makes that hokey?”

  “Here’s what’s weird. They both have the same birthday, okay? So I started thinking, what if they were like, you know…related? Like maybe twins or something?” She shrugged. “They were both born in the same hospital on the same day.”

  “Okay, so what?”

  “They were ‘lovers’, Jeff. Isn’t that icky?”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that.” he said. “I just knew that they were both killed…” he paused and stared at her. “Were they?”

  “What? Lovers?”

  “No! Twins?”

  “Oh!” She rolled her eyes. “No, they weren’t. It was just really weird that they had the same birthday and were both fosters at the same time. It just seemed like really weird coincidences.”

  “So you said that they were adopted. What were their original names?” Eckerson asked.

  Amber sighed. “I can’t find out. Apparently Judge Carter changed his password sometime in the last four months. I can’t get in.”

  Jeff nodded. “Okay. So I need to get a court order.”

  Jon spoke up, “Or just ask the parents.” He poured a cup of coffee and sat back at his desk. “The kids are gone now. I don’t see any reason why they’d withhold that information.”

  “The original case worker might release it,” Amber offered. “If she knows the reason why.”

  “Not without a court order.” Eckerson said. “You’ve never had to deal with a case worker before.” He walked to the printer and pulled the copies from the tray. “Thanks, Amber.”

  “Sorry. I did what I could.” She wheeled back to her computer and closed the windows on the screens.

  Scott walked in and slipped the radio back into the recharging station. “I’ll be in my office with those three. Hold my calls.”

  Amber nodded knowingly. “I told you you’d get your answers today.”

  He paused and looked at her questioningly. “What was that?”

  “This meeting? You may not like what they have to say…but listen to what they have to say.” She pointed at him, then turned back to her computer station.

  Scott studied the back of her head a moment then shook his head. He wanted to call her a crazy gypsy, but held his tongue. He turned to his two deputies and Constable Gregory. With a sigh he motioned them into his office. “One more time.”

  Eckerson raised a brow at Ben who simply shrugged. What was one more time of throwing yourself into a wood chipper? The three men grabbed their notes and case files and headed into the Sheriff’s private office. Jon felt his stomach turn when the door clicked shut behind them.

  21

  Calvin waited until the police cars had pulled away before he’d allow Quinn out of the rental car. Ginger had long ago gotten too antsy and jumped out of the car and made her way through the pasture toward the barn with all of the yellow tape and activity, slipping from tree to tree and hiding behind farm implements to make her way close enough to get readings. Calvin and Quinn could catch glimpses of her from time to time as she slipped from hiding spot to hiding spot and eventually work her way behind the barn.

  When she finally satisfied her curiosity, she simply walked away from the barn and headed out into the pasture and walked back from a far enough distance that nobody noticed her. She slipped back into the car, uploaded the images and readings to her laptop, and waited with Calvin and Quinn for the officers to leave.

  From their vantage point they were sure that they weren’t seen, and since nobody came to harass them, they felt certain that they were in the clear. Quinn walked around the vehicle to stretch her legs and listen for any sounds from the farm. She wanted to check if she could detect any movement at the farm that might indicate an officer left on duty. Once she was satisfied that the place was empty, the trio took off on foot, equipment bags in hand.

  They reached the first set of cordoned off tape and slipped under it. Ginger pulled the spectrographic analyzer and began taking readings while Quinn pulled the electromagnetic field reader and began scribbling notes. Calvin was taking range findings and calling out distances to the barn in meters. Each time he’d call out a number, Ginger would add an ‘eh’ to the end just to aggravate him.

  Quinn stopped about thirty feet from the opening of the barn and held her hand up. “These numbers are off the charts, guys,” she said, her voice trembling. “Whatever did this…we’ve never encountered anything like this.”

  “Are you sure?” Calvin asked. “These attacks happened hours ago.”

  “How long?” Ginger asked as she tapped the side of her spectrographic analyzer. “‘Cuz these readings are way too high to have been too long ago.”

  “I was listening in on the scanner and the coroner said that they were killed between 10PM and midnight,” Calvin said.

  Quinn and Ginger both stared at each other. “Then it’s still here,” Quinn said. “That’s the only way these numbers could be that high.”

  “Then why weren’t the cops attacked?” Cal asked.

  “How the heck am I supposed to know?” she shot back. “Maybe they were wearing crosses?!”

  “No way,” Ginger said. “Remember the alley? That scene was way cold and the numbers you pulled off of it? Whatever this is, it’s actually that strong, and it’s probably getting stronger with each attack. We need to get in that barn and take readings.”

  Calvin stared at her a moment then turned to Quinn. “How strong were the readings from the alley?”

  “Strong,” she answered, her eyes wide. “Like, really, really strong.”

  He turned back to Ginger who was slowly approaching the barn door, logging her readings as she approached. “Hey, Red, be careful will ya? If this thing is still around…”

  “Yes, dad,” she called back, never pulling her eyes from her screen.

  “Jesus. Come on, Quinn. We need to catch up to her.” He waved her on as they tried to close the gap with her. “Keep taking your readings.”

  Quinn continued to take EM readings, but kept glancing up at Ginger as she approached the barn doors. She and Calvin were slowly closing the gap when she finally looked up and saw Ginger standing in the doorway of the barn, holding her analyzer in front of her and shaking her head. “This can’t be righ
t…” she was mumbling.

  “What can’t be right, sweetie?” Quinn was asking as she tried to continue her own readings and catch up. “What can’t be right?” She wanted to be with her before she entered the barn, though she didn’t know exactly why. “Ginger, you don’t need to go in there alone, okay? I need for you to wait for us, okay?”

  She looked up and saw Ginger starting to step into the darkened interior of the barn and heard Calving groan just slightly behind her. “Aww, fuck.”

  “Screw it.” She took off at a trot to try to catch her. “Why does she do this?”

  They both ran up to the door of the barn and had to pause a moment while their eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior. When they could see again, Ginger stood in the middle of the barn, blood splattered about on all of the walls, soaked into the hay and straw of the floors, the bales of hay stacked to either side splattered with red arterial spray now turning brown in the increasing heat of the early day. Flies were being attracted to the blood in droves and the buzz was enough to drive one crazy.

  Ginger was looking up into the rafters, and when Quinn looked up, she saw the bloody hook with ‘stuff’ stuck to it. It didn’t take much imagination to picture somebody hanging from that hook, blood spraying around the barn like a garden sprinkler. She stifled a gag and looked away.

  Ginger continued to stare and shook her head. “Poor bastard never stood a chance,” she whispered, her voice barely registering above the buzz of the flies.

  “Let’s get our readings and get out of here,” Calvin said.

  Ginger nodded absently and lifted her analyzer up to her face, not really seeing the numbers. She punched the activate button and the needle pegged. She adjusted the sensitivity to the max and it still pegged out. She couldn’t adjust it high enough to allow it to register an actual number. She turned to Quinn who seemed to be having a similar problem.

  “Oh my!” she gasped. “There’s enough EM radiation in this barn to light up a house.”

  “Is the barn wired for lights?” Calvin asked.

  Ginger looked around for a switch or a light socket, a plug in or anything electrical. “I’m not seeing anything…”

  “Amazing,” Calvin said breathlessly. “I wonder how long it takes to dissipate?”

  “Hours,” Ginger surmised. “Perhaps even days.”

  “Whatever is causing this, it must be fueled by…something primal,” Quinn offered.

  “What could be so primal to cause this much violence?” Calvin asked.

  Ginger shook her head. “I don’t know. But I pray to God, I never find out.”

  *****

  “I never thought I’d be saying this, but, Ben…I apologize,” Scott said honestly.

  Constable Gregory stared at him open mouthed and simply nodded. “Um, thank you?”

  “No, I mean it. I should have listened the first time.” Scott sat back and looked back over the notes. “You’ve definitely tied our first list of vics together.” He flipped through the pages again and referred back to the book once more. “And I’d almost bet money that somehow, some way, those kids are related to these hombres on the original list as well.”

  Eckerson nodded. “Amber found out that they were both adopted. I’m going to put in for a court order to release the original adoption records so maybe we can find out their original surnames.”

  “ASAP,” Scott said. “If we can tie them to this list, then at least we have something solid.” He sat up and took another drink of coffee then pulled his reading glasses off his nose. “But I’m not saying I buy into the whole ghost thing.”

  Ben and Eckerson both smiled. “I’m not sure anybody’s really ready to sign off on something like that just yet,” Gregory said. “Although it fits, there has to be some kind of logical explanation,” he said, though he didn’t believe it.

  Scott nodded then referred back to the list. “Still…there’s something about this…” he tapped the list with his knuckle, “…that just doesn’t sit well with me.” He stood up and paced, thinking better while on his feet. “Why would somebody wait until now to try to enact some kind of revenge?”

  Jon suddenly stood up. “The graves.”

  “What?” Scott and Jeff both asked at the same time.

  “The graves!” Jon looked at Eckerson expectantly. “The graves that you found at the old ghost town…the case that you handed off to me? I tried to get the state parks guys to come out and rebury them and they said it wasn’t their jurisdiction, for me to get somebody from county to do it, and I put in a call, but nobody…” he trailed off, realizing that neither of them was making the connection. “Don’t you get it?” he asked.

  Both men were looking at him as though he were nuts. “Sheriff, you just asked, why would somebody wait all this time to try to get revenge? Nobody wants to believe that it could be a ghost…well…what if it is?” Jon saw their faces fall for a moment and Scott opened his mouth to argue, but Jon held up a hand to hold him off. “Wait just a moment! I know what you’re going to say, but just hear me out, please.” He stepped away from his chair and explained. “Remember the graves that we found all dug up?” he asked Eckerson.

  Jeff nodded. “Yeah, but…”

  “Okay, well, what if when whoever dug up those graves, they disturbed…something, some ONE. And now that someone is out for the revenge they’ve always wanted. That’s why the ‘now’. Of all times, the when is now,” Jon explained. “And the who? Well it makes sense if the someone who was dug up happens to be the person that these guys did wrong to, dontcha think? If he happens to be buried out there, then it makes perfect sense.”

  “What the hell is he talking about?” Scott asked.

  Eckerson was nodding as he put the pieces together. “Yeah. That does make sense.” He turned to Scott. “Just before the murders, we answered a disturbance call at the ghost town. I didn’t see anything so I blew it off. Jon here saw tire tracks so we checked out the old church at the end of the ghost town. Somebody had been grave robbing. We both wrote up reports, but with the murders, I doubt you would have paid them any attention.”

  Scott sat back down and sifted through the piles of folders on his desk. He pulled a stack and dug through them. Eckerson started to continue but Scott held up a finger to stop him until he found the report. He scanned it quickly and shook his head. “I’m sorry, fellas. You’re right. I didn’t get to it.” He closed the folder. “But what of it?”

  Eckerson sighed. “You’re not going to like where we’re headed with this—”

  “If you say ‘ghost’, then you’re right.”

  Ben sat back in his chair and cleared his throat. “Excuse me?” The other three turned and looked at him. “But if you’re talking about the Little Hope Missionary Baptist Church? That IS where Sheriff ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert was buried. It’s right there in the book.”

  “And right after the graves were robbed, disturbed, dug up, whatever you want to call it…these murders started,” Jon said.

  “Murders that have eyewitnesses that describe an assailant that looks like a ghost. A ‘mist’ that can hurl football players through the air like they’re paper airplanes and pin them to the ceiling for lengths at a time…” Eckerson said, “…gut people, skin people, bleed them out entirely and not leave a bit of trace evidence behind, much less a print, a fiber, a hair…hell, even a footprint.” He studied Scott’s face for understanding. “Tell me that ain’t some strange shit.”

  “Oh, that’s some strange shit, alright,” Scott agreed. “But what’s even stranger, is that my officers are believing that it’s a ghost.”

  “What else looks like a ghost, acts like a ghost and appears right after a grave is disturbed?” Ben asked.

  Scott studied the three of them for a moment and sighed. “Tell me something, gentlemen? How do you capture a ghost? How do you handcuff a ghost? Much less make it stand trial for a capital crime? How do you kill a ghost? No wait…it’s already dead, so how do you re-kill a ghost?” He held his hands u
p to quell any arguments. “Look, I appreciate the effort you’ve put into the research and I think that there’s something here. But as far as the whole ghost thing goes…”

  “What if we bring you evidence of the ghost?” Jon blurted out.

  Scott raised a brow and stared at him. “If you think that throwing a sheet over Eckerson and putting a bloody knife in his hand while you snap Polaroid’s will convince me—”

  “No,” Jon interrupted. “I mean, if we find something, anything, just so long as it is real evidence, that points in the direction of a ghost, will you at least consider it?”

  Scott sighed and sat back in his chair. Finally, he nodded. “If that is what the evidence points to, then yes. But, son, listen to me. Don’t end up like one of those guys who sees a bear in the woods and spends the rest of his life looking for bigfoot. Not every light in the sky is a UFO, not every snap of a twig is a werewolf and when people die, they either go to Heaven or Hell. There is no in between.”

  *****

  “Jesus, Rog, I was hoping you had given up on that,” Casper whined.

  “Hell no, I ain’t giving up on nothin’,” Roger hissed in a low voice while chewing the pizza. His eyes darted around to the other patrons who were obviously keeping their distance from the two. “That old man took us to the cleaners, and I intend to get what’s owed us.”

  Casper slid lower in the seat and closed his eyes, his hands slowly turning the glass of soda absently. “Why can’t you just let it go? We got a fair deal.”

  “Did you not see all the crap he had in there?” Roger asked, keeping his voice low. “We could go to the moon on just a fraction of what that junk is worth. All we gotta do is figger out how to pinch it.”