by Mark Tufo
“Are you sure?” Calvin asked as he looked over her screen.
“Positive.” She clicked the mouse pad on her laptop and the previous year came up. “See?”
Calvin sat back and exhaled hard. “Okay, so either something is drawing the sexual predators here to do their harm, or…”
“Or what?” Quinn asked, not sure she was going to like the answer.
“Or, something is causing the locals to go crazy and act outside their normal behaviors,” he finished. “Either way, it isn’t good.”
Ginger pulled her computer back and went to work on the keyboard. Calvin watched her a moment and saw the smile creep across her features. “Or, something is drawing a certain set of people here just to get rid of them.”
“I’m not following you,” Quinn said.
“Every one of the ‘victims’ had a record prior to their becoming ghost chow. Well, all of them except the last set. They’re kids and I can’t access their records.” Ginger hiked a brow and smirked at her two compatriots. “What do you want to bet that Hansel and Gretel were delinquents?”
“I don’t think I’d take that bet quite yet,” Calvin said with a smile.
“Wait, so what are you saying? That this thing is attracting criminals here just so it can savagely destroy them?” Quinn asked. “How on earth would anything attract bad guys to a geographical area like a magnet?”
Calvin shook his head. “Basic chemistry says that like attracts like.”
Ginger interrupted, “Nay, kind sir. Like dissolves like in chemistry. In physics, opposites attract,” she taunted with a teasing grin.
Calvin hiked a brow at her challenge. “Actually, Miss Know-it-all, what I’m thinking is something along the lines of this…evil attracts evil. Whatever this thing is, it’s attracting criminals that have pure evil inside them here. Like a moth to a flame.”
Ginger glanced at Quinn who simply shrugged. “Got anything to back that up?”
Calvin shook his head. “The only thing that I can think of is these numbers that are so far off the charts. They’re higher than anything we’ve ever seen before. I know it’s a reach, but I have this nagging feeling that THIS MUCH anger and hatred is somehow drawing the criminal element here and then the self-righteous…whatever it is goes on the attack.”
“Okay.” Ginger shrugged. “That makes as much sense as anything else I can think of.”
“Okay then. Let’s load up what we have and get back to the RV. We can send our raw data back to Cali and have them feed it into STELLA. If there are any correlations that can be made, she’ll find it.”
“Grr, I hate that stupid computer,” Ginger snapped.
“Just because it shocked you one time…” Quinn teased.
“It tried to electrocute me! I’m telling you, that thing doesn’t like me.”
“You shouldn’t have kicked her,” Calvin teased.
“She shouldn’t have pissed me off,” Ginger fired back.
*****
Amber poured herself a cup of herbal tea. It was a special blend that a friend of hers mixed up just for her. It helped in quelling the dreams that always plagued her and made sleep so fitful. Ever since she could remember, she would have the most vivid and lucid dreams, as though she were seeing somebody else’s memories, except often the memories weren’t pleasant. In fact, it seemed that the more violent and painful the event, the more vivid it appeared to her. It had reached a point where she had actually contemplated suicide at the ripe young age of fourteen.
Amber’s salvation came when her mother’s sister came to visit. She was easily the black sheep of her mother’s family. She always dressed funny and smelled of odd scents. Amber found out many years later that it was patchouli oil and other musky scents, often used by others to mask the odor of marijuana, but in her aunt’s case, it was used to mask the scent of all of the herbs that she used to burn to calm her own mind.
Her ‘crazy aunt Glenda’, ‘Glenda the good witch’ or ‘Goofy Glenda’ as her father used to call her, took Amber under her wing and explained that a lot of the females in their family were privy to ‘the knowing’. She helped talk her mother into letting Amber stay a few weeks with her that summer and she taught Amber how to control the many voices that spoke to her in her mind. She taught her how to know which of the visions that she saw were real and which weren’t and which were possibilities that fate hasn’t decided upon yet. It was a wonderful summer and Amber ended up staying most of it with her Aunt Glenda.
As she sat in her favorite papasan chair, her tea beside her and one of Glenda’s books in her lap, she had the familiar feeling that her aunt was with her still. Glenda had passed away the year that Amber turned nineteen, having left all of her earthly possessions to her favorite niece. It wasn’t much, really. Just the small two bedroom house that she lived in now with the small herb garden behind it. The small wardrobe of hippie clothes from the late 60s or early 70s that made a minor resurgence a few years prior, only to die another painful and agonizing death. But what Amber cherished above all else was the personal library that Glenda had amassed over the years. It covered everything from herbal healing to new age religion to remote viewing to…well, if it was ‘out there’ Glenda had a book on it.
Amber sat back in the chair and cracked open the book that she felt compelled to read this evening. The Weiser Field Guide to Ghosts may not be the definitive encyclopedia to all things paranormal, but it was all that she had in her personal library.
She sipped her tea and wished that her friend Lori could find something a little more effective. The brew just wasn’t working like it used to when she first started drinking it. When she first confided in her friend that all of the techniques that Glenda had taught her years ago were slowly losing their effectiveness, Lori suggested using the teas to help boost them. At first, they worked great. Amber reached a point where she barely had to think about blocking the voices out or preventing an unwanted vision from interrupting her day. But lately it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate reality from what her mind was experiencing yet nobody else could see. She sighed as she closed the book and set it aside. It was just no use. Everything felt ‘off’ to her.
She finished the cup of tea and checked the clock. It was past her bedtime anyway and she wanted to get an early start the next day. She took her cup to the sink and rinsed it, setting the mug carefully back on its peg. She put the book back in the shelf and shuffled off to bed.
Amber double checked that her door was locked, checked her 9MM and set it carefully beside her bed on the nightstand, round chambered, safety on. She went about brushing her teeth, flossing, brushing her hair and doing her nightly routine just as she did any other night.
Stepping out of her bathroom, she flipped off the light and padded back to the bedroom, unaware of the two red orbs behind her glowing softly in the darkness, casting an eerie yet faint glow about the hallway. She turned into the bedroom and shut the door behind her as she always did.
Slipping out of her pink fuzzy slippers that her mother had given her for Christmas, she slid under the heavy comforter and pulled it up tight under her chin. With her arm outstretched, she turned off the bedside lamp and lay in the dark, the only sound being the small oscillating fan in the corner of her room that provided just enough white noise to allow her to sleep without hearing every little minor thing that might occur outside her house in the middle of the night.
Amber lay in the dark and concentrated on her breathing, a technique that Glenda had taught her years ago. She first blocked out the voices that slipped past her guard, begging her to deliver a message, or to warn somebody. She knew all too well from experience that living people rarely wished to receive those messages.
Next she concentrated on blocking the visions. Although there were far fewer of them, they were stronger. Based on much stronger emotions, they came through with much more power and took more concentration to block. She also knew from experience that if she couldn’t block them, she
’d end up dreaming about whatever visions came through and she truly wanted to rest.
As she lay in the dark and began to count slowly in Tibetan, yet another technique that Glenda had taught her, one vision kept returning to her. Each time it did, it seemed stronger. A man, dressed in old west clothes, a cowboy hat and wearing a double pistol rig…facing a street full of other men…push it out…the men throw a rope over him and drag him about the street…NO! I don’t want to see this. Push it out! The men grab a woman dressed in an old style dress and drag her by her foot across the street as well…push harder, block it, block it! They’re beating the hell out of him! Oh, my God…no…I don’t want to see this. You can’t make me care what happens next…He’s being dragged out of town on a rope, over rocks, cactus, through brush…oh, good lord…the men are taking turns raping the yellow haired girl, beating her…I’m going to be sick now…seriously, push the vision AWAY!
They hung him! SLOWLY! Amber sat up quickly in her bed, her comforter falling from her chest, her face soaked in a cold sweat, a scream on the tip of her tongue as her eyes suddenly widened.
Hovering directly in front of her, a tendril of smoke extending out toward her face were two ghastly red glowing eyes, burning as if fueled from the very fires of hell itself. She inhaled sharply to scream, only to find her voice stolen by the icy fingers wrapped around her vocal chords, cutting off the air in her throat.
The door to her bedroom flew open, dust and grit blowing into the room, debris scattering around her as dust devils kicked up and danced at the foot of her bed. As the wind blew past her head she heard a whispered voice in her ear, “Do-o-o-o-o-o-o-on’t!”
25
Roger drove slowly into town, second guessing himself with every mile that drew him closer to the destination. He really didn’t want to face the police and he knew that no matter what he said, they’d still try to find a way to twist his words and make him out to be the bad guy in this. He snorted to himself as he realized, he hadn’t even done anything…yet. And still, they’d find a way to pin everything on him. He almost turned around and left Casper sitting on the side of the road on more than one occasion. But each time he glanced over at his simple minded buddy, he couldn’t help but imagine him still as a child, in school, being bullied. So Roger would sigh and continue on.
As he approached the crossroads that would take him into the city limits, he saw two police vehicles parked away from the road, hidden in the shadows of the darkness. He slowed the truck and turned the wheel slightly, allowing the light from his headlights to illuminate their hiding spot.
“Lookit there.” He slapped at Casper. “We might not have to go all the way into town after all.”
“You reckon they’ll just take my statement and we can go home?” Cas asked hopefully.
“We’re fixing to find out.” He pulled the truck across the road and alongside the two vehicles.
The window of the SUV rolled down and a young Asian officer turned his spotlight on both of them. “Can I help you?”
Roger held his hand up to block the spotlight from blinding him. “We need to talk to y’all.” He kept moving his head trying to avoid the spotlight, but the light continued to find his eyes. “Can you turn that off? I can’t see a damned thing.”
“Have you gentlemen been drinking tonight?”
“What?! Hell no. That ain’t why we tried to find y’all.” He continued to duck and weave, but his head just couldn’t find a spot that would keep the spotlight from blinding him. “We need to find out what to do about my buddy here stabbing a feller.”
Casper nearly flipped out when he heard Roger say those words. He threw his hands into the air and started rambling, “It weren’t my fault. He attacked me first and tried to kill me. I just done it to get away from him. I ain’t sure if he was even hurt bad or not. He may not even be dead.”
Casper’s door opened and he was pulled to the ground by an unseen assailant. The entire time he was being pulled from the truck, he screamed like a small girl being attacked by rabid wolves. “Help me, Rog! He’s got me again!” He thrashed and kicked and flailed about while the officer from the other car handcuffed him. Roger simply sat behind the wheel of the pickup, staring at the officer while he handcuffed him.
“Let me see your hands, real nice and slow,” the Asian officer said.
It seemed to Roger that he was a lot closer than he had been before. As Roger turned his head back toward that blinding light, the young officer stepped between him and the spotlight, effectively extinguishing it. It was just then that Roger noticed the rather large pistol in the officer’s hand pointed at his head.
“Aww, fuck,” he groaned out loud as he lifted his hands up and spread his fingers as far as he could. “I ain’t done nothing.”
“With your right hand, reach outside the truck and open the door,” the officer demanded.
“Please don’t wrassle me to the ground. These are the cleanest dirty pants I got,” Roger started.
“Do it!” the officer commanded.
Roger sighed as he complied. Once the door was open he was ordered out on the ground and to lay face down in the dirt, where he was promptly handcuffed. “This sucks ass, you know it? I ain’t done nothing.”
The officers ignored him as they called for backup to come and assist with processing the vehicle. They searched both men’s pockets and the pickup and found nothing outright illegal, but the garbage bag of bloody clothes looked awfully suspicious. It helped their case that both men were on opposite sides of the truck and their stories matched where the bloody clothes originated from.
When Denise rolled up on the scene she took one look at the truck and approached Eckerson. “I don’t suppose one of these assholes is named Culley is he?”
“Driver.” Jeff turned back and returned to filling out forms.
“I can hear you, Deputy Bitch,” Roger spat.
“So nice to see you again, Roger,” Denise purred. “What did you do this time? Armed robbery? Possession of stolen property? Grand larceny? Or have we graduated to dealing drugs now?”
“Screw you,” Roger swore, rolling partway to his side. “I ain’t done nothing this time.”
“I did,” Casper whined from the other side of the truck pitifully.
Denise turned to Foo and motioned with her head, “Wineguard, I take it?” Jon nodded and continued filling out his paperwork. “Those two have been running together since…what? Third grade?”
“Fuck off!” Roger replied.
“You kiss your momma with that mouth?” Denise asked as she strolled around to the other side of the truck. She looked down at Casper who lay in the fetal position, crying. “What happened, Casper?”
He continued to whimper and tried to sit up. Denise lent a hand and helped him to a sitting position, letting him lean back against the front tire of the truck. “I stabbed a man, Deputy Burress.”
She leaned back on her heels and studied him. “Why would you do that, Casper?”
“He attacked me! He come into my home and tried to stab me. I swear it on my momma’s grave!”
“Okay, okay.” Denise patted his arm. “Let’s stay calm. Just tell me.”
“He come in from behind and I ain’t got no electricity out there. So I didn’t see him ‘til he was right there. He went to stick a knife in me but it stuck my duffle bag instead. I rabbited on him. Jumped under the bed and out through my spider hole. Went under the house.” Casper’s breathing was coming in gasps now as he relived the event. “He tried to crawl under the bed and got stuck. And when he got mad I stuck him.” His eyes met hers. “I stuck him bad.” His lips quivered.
“Okay, Casper. It sounds like it may have been self-defense to me. Who was it? Did you know this man?”
“No, ma’am…I mean…I dunno. He was wearing a mask. Kind of like a ski mask, but not really a ski mask, you know? And he had on an Army jacket, so I couldn’t even tell you what he was wearing underneath.”
“I can tell you what he�
�s wearing under his jacket!” Roger yelled. “A fucking knife!”
Denise patted Casper’s shoulder, “Just ignore him.”
“Them bloody clothes is what I was wearing during it all. I got his blood all over me. It was Roger’s idea that I should get cleaned up to come talk to y’all. And he said you’d want the clothes, too, so we brung em.” The tears were free flowing now, and his shoulders were shaking as he sobbed.
“Okay, Casper. You just hold on a bit and I’ll get you down to the sheriff’s office so you can make a statement, okay?” He lowered his face and simply nodded.
Denise sighed as she stood and walked back over to the other officers. “Jeff, if you don’t mind waiting for the wrecker to take the truck to impound, I’m going to take Casper down and get his statement.”
He looked up in surprise. “You’re not going to book him?”
“For what?” She shrugged. “Did you listen to his story? It was self-defense.”
Eckerson glanced at the man on the ground and motioned for Denise to step aside. “Did you not notice them?”
She nodded. “I’ve busted them more times in the past then just about anybody with the department. I know who they are. And I know Casper. He doesn’t have a violent bone in his body. He may like to get tweaked from time to time, but even then, the only thing that he’s dangerous to is kitchen appliances and maybe clocks. Or the occasional television that can’t outrun him. He’ll take them apart to see how they work and not be able to get them put back together.”
Jeff leaned back and looked at the ground where Roger lay. “What about him?”
“Did you find anything that you can arrest him for or detain him on?”
“No,” Jeff admitted, scratching at his chin. “Not if you aren’t charging the other one.”
“Fine. Give me a minute with him.” She walked over to Roger and motioned for Foo to stand him up. Jon helped the man to his feet and she stood stared him down. Roger held nothing but contempt for her in his eyes. “You have a decision to make.”