The Monolith Murders

by Lorne L. Bentley

  Then she saw it—a small shack with peeling orange paint situated next to the water, with three small brightly colored outboard motor boats tied to the dock. She ran up to the attendant, “I want to rent a boat right away.”

  The attendant had a week’s growth of oily brown beard and long stringy hair which looked as if it hadn’t seen a comb for a year. He obviously wasn’t the owner, and he didn’t seem that much interested in renting one of his boss’s boats.

  “Well, lady, it’s late in the day, and I’d still have to charge you sixty bucks for a half of a day’s rental. Why don’t you come back tomorrow early in the morning, and then you’ll be able to get a full day’s worth of boating? Besides, the weather’s turning foul—too much fog out there to enjoy yourself.”

  Donna pulled out three twenties. “Here’s my money!” she screamed. “Now give me a damn boat!”

  “Have to see your driver’s license first, lady; those are the rules. I don’t make them, you know.” The man turned his head and indifferently spit out a wad of well-processed chewing tobacco into the vivid turquoise colored water of the gulf.

  Donna handed him her false driver’s license.

  “Okay, lady, I’ll make a copy of this and be right back.” The disheveled man ambled toward his shack to process the transaction.

  From the vantage point of the dock Donna surveyed the interior of each of the boats; one had an ignition key in it. She untied the rope tethering the boat to the dock, jumped in and turned the key. The engine roared to life.

  At that moment the attendant ran out and yelled, “Hey! You didn’t sign the rental agreement, and I still have your driver’s license. Besides, that boat’s almost out of gas. Come back here!”

  Donna disappeared into the thick winter fog, not hearing nor caring what he was shouting about behind her.

  Fred was still heading due north, continuing on highway 41, and Donna’s signal was getting much weaker. He decided to try one more attempt to slip into her visual area and find out where she was. All he could see was fog and water. That makes no sense, he thought, there’s no way any road around here would give me that type of view. Somehow, my powers must have become corrupted.

  He pulled off the highway into a fast food restaurant’s parking lot. She won this one, he thought, but she won’t win the next time.

  Donna was heading northwest, with the boat at full throttle. Because of the heavy fog she had difficulty seeing where she was heading. She crossed under Tampa’s Sunshine Skyway Bridge, where the bay’s waters were connected to a senior winter playground consisting of a swarm of retirement communities nestled next to the warm Gulf waters.

  A moment later her engine started choking, and she knew she was almost out of fuel. She turned to follow the path of the bridge, trying to stay close to the shore line. Up ahead she saw a secondary road where travelers could leave the main highway, pull their cars into parking areas, and watch the tranquil view of the Tampa Bay waters lapping the shoreline.

  The engine sputtered to a full stop as she ran aground next to a secondary dirt road. An elderly man and woman had just pulled up to the same area to check out the scenery. Donna noticed their driver’s door was slightly open. She vacated the boat and ran to the car. She pulled the driver’s door all the way open, and was elated when she realized that the keys were in the ignition. She started the engine and was on her way again.

  Still fearful that Fred was right behind her, she took a long circuitous route east, past Orlando. She kept going east until she intersected the north/south I-95 interstate. On it, she drove due south until she reached east/west interstate 75. From there she traveled across the wild alligator infested Florida Everglades. It wasn’t until late in the night, having crisscrossed the state twice, when she reached the community of Naples, that she finally felt secure that she had lost Fred. I’m no match for him anymore, she thought; I’ve got to get out of the area, maybe out of the country.

  Chapter 62

  Fred was furious that he had not caught Donna. She had been almost in his grasp and the macabre mental dance between him and Donna would have been finally over. Had he caught her, she would have paid and she would have suffered mightily, he thought. On his return trip to his home, Fred noticed a stray dog crossing the highway. H He pointed his car directly at the stray and moved from his right lane to the extreme left lane, almost hitting a semi in the process. The dog sensed danger and bounded to the median strip. Fred swerved to go after her, suddenly finding himself on the opposite lanes facing oncoming northbound interstate traffic. Amid horns blasting and tires screeching, he again crossed the median returning to his southbound lane.

  Damn it! I missed getting both Donna and that useless stray, he thought. Equally upsetting was a debilitating headache that suddenly flared up. He figured that he had used too much of his psychic powers in the chase. He needed to understand how to harness this new gift, perhaps release it gradually and more selectively.

  It seemed to him that he had received with a single operation all types of capabilities; but activating some of them was more enervating than others. He needed time to experiment and replenish. He had no prior experience with his newly developed powers; so he reasoned a good night’s sleep might be necessary for him to return to normal.

  As he entered his front door the phone rang. It was his poker buddy, Bill Cole. He asked if Fred wanted to go to the local Irish Pub and watch the Monday night football game. Fred didn’t feel social, but thought he could use a drink or two. Maybe, he thought, just maybe a few strong drinks would cure his wretched headache.

  Jim and Dan, and Fred’s poker buddies Bill Cole and John Stevens, were already sitting at a table in the back of the bar when Fred arrived.

  Watching the Monday night games had become a tradition among them. Dan was the only one to have played the game; and his interest was solely associated with a team’s, any team’s, defensive line and secondary. Bill Cole knew nothing about the game; his interest seemed to be isolated to the color and design of the various team’s uniforms. He traditionally rooted for Jacksonville, not because they were local, but because he thought their green color was harmonious with the artificial turf they played on. This night, Fred didn’t enjoy the game or his company, but he drank a steady stream of run and cokes, which seemed to momentarily reduce the intensity of his headache.

  The next morning his headache was even worse—much worse. He took a couple of aspirin and went back to bed. At noon he woke again; he still had no relief from the excruciating pain. He started to contact his personal doctor, but he reasoned the doctor wouldn’t know how to treat Fred with the thing in his head. Instead, he decided to contact the CIA doctors who were fully aware of his situation. When he told them of his symptoms, they directed him to get on the next plane to D.C. God, he thought, maybe something major has gone wrong with me.

  A few hours later he was being examined by the CIA medical staff. The head of the medical unit was waiting impatiently for the results of the X-rays that the radiologist had taken of the site of the device’s insertion. When he finally examined the battery of X-rays, the findings were not good.

  “Fred, I hate to tell you this but we have to operate on you again.”

  “What in hell for?”

  “We found a small tumor right below the site of the paranormal device.”

  “Is it cancer?”

  “We have no way of knowing. But what we do know is that it’s growing very quickly and it eventually will result in pressure on your brain in some very critical functional areas. Your brain only has so much room to expand in your cranium before it experiences potentially fatal pressure when it touches the skull. I want to get rid of the tumor before it increases in size. Once we get in, we’ll know what’s happening.”

  The only word that seemed appropriate to Fred was, “Fuck,” but what he said was, “I guess we have no choice.”

  The operation took over three hours. Fred woke up to the surgeon’s smile, and Maureen’s concerned fac
e.

  Fred didn’t return the smile. Reaching for Maureen’s hand, he asked, “So what’s the verdict, doctor?”

  “We located and removed the tumor. It was benign.”

  “That’s great news. Geez, I was just getting used to the device and how it works. How long do I need to recover before I can start using it again? I need to return to Sarasota to get after Donna again as soon as possible.”

  Besides the device being necessary in the capture of Donna, it had become not unlike an additive chemical dependency. Fred craved its return. He wanted it back as soon as possible.

  “I’m sorry, Fred; we had to remove the device as well.”

  “Oh, hell! When can you put it back?”

  “Never, I’m afraid. We had to remove a fairly good slice of your brain as a byproduct of removing the tumor. There really is no way for us to reconnect the device to you. Unfortunately, the site of your tumor was the area in which all the critical connections are made between the machine and your brain tissue.”

  Fred was silent. All the advantages he previously had over Donna had been extinguished with one operation. The rawness he felt toward the world was also gone. His strong love for Maureen returned as if it had never left. The removal of the unit immediately restored him to the way he had been prior to his operation.

  However, he knew with respect to his contest with Donna, the unacceptable status quo had also returned; Maureen would be forever vulnerable and he would never again be a match for Donna’s superior powers. He now knew that clearly. Right now, though, his first objective was to have Maureen call their neighbor and ask him to make sure that his two dogs were fed and had adequate water. He said, “Also, make sure he puts out peanuts for the squirrels.”

  He also placed a call to Jim and told him the circumstances.

  “I’m sorry, Fred, but at least you’re okay, and you’re healing quickly from the brain surgery. At any rate, your headache is now gone. That’s certainly good news.”

  “I’d rather have the fucking headache the rest of my life if it was a tradeoff between that and the powers that were given and now taken away from me.”

  Detective Stewart had been in the office when Jim got the call.

  “Sounds like Fred has a problem,” Stewart said.

  “Yes,” Jim replied, “he’s had a medical procedure; I really don’t want to go into any more detail.”

  Stewart said, “I understand, but please give him my best wishes. Listening to you, it sounded like it was some sort of a brain operation and I know that can be serious. My cousin had a brain operation and he—”

  “Yes, I’m sorry about your cousin, but Fred’s doing just fine; it’s nothing for us to worry about. It was very minor, comparable to having a decayed tooth removed. A day or two of recovery and that will be all. But I’ll tell him of your concern.”

  Jim didn’t like to fuel Stewart’s curiosity; but since Stewart had heard some of his conversation with Fred he had no choice but to respond to him. He tried to make the operation sound as insignificant as he could. He hoped he had succeeded, but he worried that maybe he had overdone it.

  Chapter 63

  Donna was busily stuffing her clothes into a large suitcase when Polish walked through the door of their condo.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m getting out of here; Fred’s getting too goddamn close to me. His trip to the CIA must have been for the purpose of planting an ESP device in him, because he’s now more powerful than I am. Screw it, it’s best to leave the area and forget about him.”

  Donna decided to do away with Polish before she left—no use leaving a trail behind. She went to her dresser to retrieve a weapon hidden below her night clothes in the bottom drawer. She silently released its safety; the bundle of night clothes provided an effective sound buffer. She slowly started to pick her revolver up.

  “Maybe you don’t have to leave at all.”

  His comment froze her. “What in hell are you talking about?” Donna slowly started to put her revolver back into the dresser.

  “I’ve got some good news; actually it’s great news. If you’re nice to me, you know real nice, I’ll give you the news.”

  “Screw you, what the hell is the good news?”

  “Fred’s returned to the D.C. area.”

  “So what, that doesn’t mean he won’t ever come back to Sarasota.” Donna started to pick up the revolver again.

  “He apparently has had a brain operation. And that information comes from one of my very reliable sources.”

  “What’s the operation all about?”

  “I don’t know that, and it would be difficult to find out; but it sounds like good news to me.”

  Donna thought for a long period, weighing the consequences of Fred’s operation before she spoke. “Yes, I agree; I suspect either they had to remove the device because it’s defective or it’s causing some organic problem in his brain. I can’t imagine he would be having a brain operation based on something else; the coincidence is much too great.”

  “That’s my guess as well.”

  Donna returned her revolver to its place in the dresser and started to unpack her clothes. “I think I’ll hang around a bit longer to check this out. Once he returns to Sarasota, I can determine if he’s still got his powers or not. If not, I’ll start right where I left off with both him and Maureen. All right, things are beginning to look up again.”

  * * *

  Donna learned two weeks later that Fred had returned to the Sarasota area. She understood that he was still staying in his north Sarasota house and that there were no longer any police guarding the place. She assumed, based on the release of the police watch that Maureen had most likely stayed behind, still protected at the CIA compound.

  Donna was also informed when Fred returned to work. She drove to an area next to the interstate which was about ten miles from Fred’s police station. She knew that was the geographical limit for her to be able to exercise her mental abilities; it was also far enough for her to escape if Fred had not had the ESP device removed, and remained a threat to her. She knew any sort of encounter with Fred was potentially dangerous, but she had to know if the device had been removed.

  Donna stayed in her car in a Publix supermarket parking lot and started to hone in on Fred’s mental signature. If he still had his powers she didn’t want to alert him. So when she mentally located him, her entrance into his brain was as soft and subtle as a butterfly landing on a soap bubble. She knew if he still retained his powers, he would immediately react and send back to her an undeniable powerful signal. If that happened, she would take off as fast as she could. She shivered with trepidation as she meticulously went through the careful probing of his brain, segment by segment.

  Fred was acutely aware when Donna entered his brain. He had no desire to block her, even though he had enough natural powers to do so. He wanted her to feel that he was, in comparative terms, powerless. He did nothing except recognize her presence in his mind as she moved from neuron to neuron. After what seemed like an endless time, she left, as delicately as she had entered.

  Chapter 64

  Donna returned to her condo in Punta Gorda. As she exited her car, she uttered a passing hello to her landlady who was tending her miniature rose garden in front of the condo unit. Unfortunately, as was typical, the landlady wanted to talk with Donna about the weather, the economy and all sorts of things that were boring and banal to Donna. Donna remained polite to the lady only because she didn’t want to irritate her in any way. This was a good hideout and she didn’t want to spend any time trying to find a comparable one, which she might be forced to do if she blew her top having to listen to the useless life of this insignificant human being. Donna generated a false smile and nodded in agreement with all of the meaningless statements that were made during the woman’s ramblings.

  Donna’s anger was soaring, and she was just about ready to strangle this useless person when she regained control and made an excu
se that she needed to go inside for an important call. As she left the woman, she said, “It was so nice talking to you.” But what she was thinking was far removed from ‘nice.’

  Polish was sitting on the sofa absorbed in a rerun of In the Heat of the Night as she entered. “Damn!” he said. “Can you believe that Carroll O’Connor was the same guy that played Archie Bunker in All in the Family? What a fucking great character actor he was.”

  Donna ignored his fixation with Carroll O’Connor; she had other more important things on her mind. She thought that anything, anything at all would be more important than his mindless ramblings. To her he wasn’t a hell of a lot more interesting than her idiotic landlady.

  “Polish, we have to get rid of that old busybody outside; she’s really getting on my nerves.”

  “Donna, take it easy. we won’t have to stay in this shitty place forever. Seems to me, when you get rid of Fred and his lovely wife, we can go elsewhere and start enjoying life. I was just watching the Travel Channel and it looks to me like Paris would be a good place for us to live. Did you know it was never bombed by the Nazis since Hitler wanted to keep it in pristine shape for his headquarters after he won the war? Damn lucky the French. The Brits did a lot more to fight the bastard, but look what happened to their homeland.” He rambled on. “The weather is not too bad in Paris, maybe a bit of snow in the winter.”

  He suddenly shifted his thoughts to how they would pay for their new life. “By the way, I recall that you said Atwell had been doing well financially and you suspected that he was using his powers to make a few million. It seems to me that you could use your skills equally as well. Yes, Donna, I think it would be a great idea for us to relocate to Europe or some place like that where you wouldn’t be known and we wouldn’t have to hide out anymore.”