Night Chill

by Jeff Gunhus

  Jack crawled over to Lonetree and poked him in the ribs. “Wake up,” Jack said, surveying the many cuts and bruises on his face. “Jesus, you look how I feel.”

  Lonetree squinted and looked around the cell. “Is this the best room they have?”

  “Great plan. We didn’t accomplish anything and now…now look at us.”

  “Tell me you at least got Huckley.”

  Jack quickly explained what had happened. When he was done, Lonetree shook his head. “I knew I should have done it myself.”

  “Hey, looks like you’re in this jail cell with me, buddy. How did you get caught by some small town cops?”

  Lonetree shrugged. “Must be getting old.” He pointed to Deputy Sorenson standing outside their cell. “That piece of shit got the drop in me from behind. Not much you can do when you have a gun pointing at your head.”

  “This guy is the one who roughed you up like this?”

  “That was when his buddies showed up. I guess they were a little bent out of shape from me shooting at them. They hit like pansies though,” Lonetree laughed and pointed to Deputy Sorenson. “Especially you, shit head. Complete pansy.”

  Sorenson started digging in his pockets for the keys, “You son-of-a-”

  “Sorenson!” Janney shouted as he entered the cell block. “What the hell are you doing?”

  The deputy, looking like a whipped dog, stuttered, “N-N-Nothing… I was just…”

  “Just about to open that door, get your ass kicked, and let these prisoners escape.”

  “I—”

  “Get out of here,” Janney growled, wrinkling his nose as if the deputy’s incompetence were something he could smell. He waited for him to sulk out the door before turning his attention to Jack and Lonetree. “So hard to find good help these days,” he grinned as he walked up to the cell. “What are we going to do with the two of you?”

  Jack tried to contain the emotion in his voice, but still it came out trembling. “Where is Sarah? What have you done with her?”

  Janney smiled. “Attempted murder. Assault against a police officer. Illegal firearms. Aggravated assault. So many charges, so little time.” He leaned in close to the bars, “But we’ll worry about that later. I brought a special visitor for you.”

  Jack looked to the door, expecting to see Lauren. Instead, he saw a man dressed in jeans and a white dress shirt, with skin so pale that his neck and shirt seemed to run together. Blue eyes stood out from the white flesh of his face and two blood-red thin lines sufficed for a mouth. These two lines were twisted together in a wicked smirk as Nate Huckley strode into the cell block.

  “Hello there. Good to see you again,” Huckley said, draping one hand over the crossbar that ran across the center of the cell wall and waving the other through the air in an accentuated gesture. He looked over to Lonetree. “We haven’t met. But I knew your brother well. He was…fascinating. I’ve never met a man with such endurance for pain.”

  Jack turned to Lonetree, expecting the man to run at the bars, maybe even tear through them and rip Huckley’s throat out. But he stayed where he was. His chest heaved and his hands clenched at his sides, but he seemed to know that a lunge would be futile, probably even pleasing to his tormentor.

  “Smarter than your brother. Not as hot headed,” Huckley said. “Surprising. I would have thought the opposite, you being the family grunt and all.” He turned his gaze on Jack. “And you. You’ve made your wife very unhappy. Don’t you know it’s extremely bad taste to kidnap your own daughter and then try to murder one of your wife’s patients? I don’t think she’ll be visiting you any time soon.”

  ”Where’s Sarah?” Jack demanded. “What did you do with her?”

  “Ummm, little Sarah. You know, she really is quite an interesting little girl. Not much to look at when you first see her, but when you get in here,” he tapped the side of his head, “my, my, my. Now that is a different story.”

  Jack charged up to the bars, “If you hurt her, if you touch her in any way, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Huckley laughed, waving his hands at the jail cell. “If I were you, I wouldn’t spend the little time I had left to live making idle threats and fantasizing about saving my daughter. I suggest you take responsibility for your sins and ask for forgiveness before you die.”

  “Sins? What are you talking about?”

  Huckley stared open mouthed. He looked over to Janney who took the cue to shake his head in disgust. “What sin? You can’t be serious. You trespassed against me. You almost caused me to die.” He reached for his throat as if the word alone caused him pain. “You sinned against me. And sinners must be punished.”

  “You’re insane,” Jack whispered. “What do you think you are? A god?”

  Huckley laughed. “Think? No, Jack. I don’t think I’m a god. I know it.”

  Movement behind Huckley caught Jack’s attention. He looked at Janney just in time to catch a facial expression that he hadn’t expected. His lips were curled back in unmistakable scorn at what Huckley said. Leaving one hand still wrapped around the cell bars, Huckley glanced over his shoulder to follow Jack’s line of sight. The second he turned, Lonetree made his move.

  Going from a standstill to full speed in one step, Lonetree jumped through the air, his right leg outstretched in a martial arts kick. The heel of his boot slammed into Huckley’s knuckles, mashing the bones and flesh into the metal bars.

  Huckley howled in pain. He raised his mangled hand in front of his face, looking at the shafts of bone sticking out from the skin. What was a hand was now reduced to an unrecognizable claw.

  Lonetree was back on his feet, admiring his work. “Now you’re a one-handed god, you sick son-of-a-bitch.”

  Deputies clamored outside the door to the cell block, shouting questions through. Janney, unable to suppress a grin at Huckley’s wailing, crossed over to the door and called through it, “Everything’s all right. Don’t worry.” Then to Huckley, “Keep it down will you?”

  Huckley snarled at the command, for a moment more animal than man. But then he seemed to catch himself. He straightened, still cradling his destroyed hand against his stomach. Jack noticed the bleeding had already stopped. “Maybe you’ll die with a little more dignity than your brother.” He reached his good hand out. “Janney, give me your gun.”

  “No way. You’re not doing it here.” He nodded to the door that led out of the cell block. “Too many Midland cops here. Not possible.”

  Huckley closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He whispered, “You’re right. You’re right.” It was quiet. Huckley stood with his eyes closed as if listening to soft music that only he could hear. When he opened his eyes a wide smile spread across his face. “Little Sarah is ready,” he said, slowly turning to face Jack. “Love to stay and talk, but there’s work to be done.”

  Jack was desperate. “Wait. What is it about Sarah? You need a life, take mine. Trade her for me.”

  “You have no power to bargain. If I wanted your pitiful life, I’d just take it. I have the control here. You don’t have a clue about your little girl, do you? What her true value is.”

  Jack fell to his knees in front of Huckley. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt her.”

  Lonetree gripped his shoulder. “He’s not going to change his mind. Don’t make this better for him.”

  “Don’t listen to your Indian friend here. I encourage begging. It’s so much like prayer. Still, he’s right about one thing. I’m not going to change my mind. Your daughter is one in a million. I don’t know, maybe she’s entirely unique. I didn’t understand why the Source wanted her so badly at first. In fact, it’s still somewhat a mystery. I’ll tell you this much though. After the accident I woke up in a dream world as black as any cave. I was terrified, but then I saw your daughter. I saw her as the Source must see her. Sarah blazes with light. She’s like a forest fire among candles. Psychic energy like I’ve never seen before. When she is put through the Taking ritual it will be unlike anyt
hing we’ve ever done. It will be magnificent.” Huckley stared off into the distance. “I’ll be free from all limits. I will be a god.”

  Jack felt the blood drain from his face. “She’s just a little girl.”

  “Yes, a little girl that will change things forever. I can only imagine the kind of power I will get from her. Even people like you will not be able to deny my divinity.”

  Lonetree shouted to the sheriff. “You don’t believe this bullshit, do you Janney? You think Huckley here is a god?”

  Huckley held up the hand Lonetree had mangled. The injury had already completely healed. “Nothing can hurt me,” Huckley said. “Nothing.” Then he turned to Janney. “I need to go. Everyone knows to be there?”

  “Everything is set up.” Then in a lower voice he added, “Are you sure this can’t wait? There are a lot of outsiders around. If we just—”

  Huckley held up his hand. “The Boss gave the order. This happens tonight.”

  Jack leaned forward to hear Janney’s reply. “It’s not worth the risk.”

  Huckley patted the sheriff on the cheek, a little harder than necessary. “Janney, how would you know? Besides, you’re to follow orders. Let us do the worrying, all right?” He motioned back to Jack and Lonetree. “And Janney…”

  “Yes?”

  “Make sure they suffer before they die.”

  This comment seemed to brighten Janney’s mood. “Not a problem.”

  They left the room together leaving Jack and Lonetree behind to guess at their fates.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  Lauren sat back in her chair and rubbed her temples. The three Tylenols she had taken an hour earlier barely touched her throbbing headache. It originated in a knot of twisted muscles and nerves at the base of her neck, shot out across her skull and seemed to be digging a hole behind her right eye. She needed rest but she knew sleep was impossible. Her daughter was still missing. Her husband, now a cold-blooded would-be murderer, was incarcerated in the Midland jail three blocks away. She could hardly sit still for a few minutes let alone lie down. Sleep, she decided, would have to wait.

  Her call to the FBI had gone nowhere. It was like no one had ever heard of her case, or it was such a small priority that they couldn’t be bothered to remember. She pictured a busy room full of agents, computer screens, phones ringing, and, on a corner desk that no one really used, a tiny Post-it note with Sarah’s information scribbled on it. Just one more little girl missing. One of thousands abducted each year. Abducted and never found. At least an agent had told her he would dig around and call back once he found out who was on the case.

  She crossed the hospital cafeteria which had become the impromptu command center for the dual investigations of the kidnapping and shootings by the two madmen the police had taken into custody. Madmen. My Jack was one of them. Even though she had been right there, seen the rage in his face as he screamed and fired the gun into the bed, even though she’d seen all of that, she could hardly believe it. Deep down, the analytical part of her understood why she was so reluctant to accept Jack’s actions.

  If he was capable of that, then he could have taken Sarah. Could have hurt her. Could have…

  She wouldn’t allow herself to go any further. She couldn’t handle that right now. She couldn’t handle that ever.

  The automatic coffee maker finished perking so she slid the glass pot off of the heating element and refilled her mug. She usually drank it black, but she reached for the cream and sugar to cut the bitterness of the dark roast. Her stomach was already rebelling over the first eight cups she had downed that night. She circled the spoon around the mug, allowing herself to be mesmerized by the dark brown coffee giving way to gentle tan swirls of cream.

  The same questions filtered through her mind that had nagged her all night. How could Jack go so far, so quickly? The car accident with Huckley had been a few days ago. The waking dream — and the scare with the baseball bat — was just two nights ago. She cursed herself for agreeing to move from California, agreeing to help Jack run away from the memory of the first car accident. Maybe Moran was right and it really started back then. Maybe by moving to Maryland, Lauren had helped set the actions in motion. Thick layers of blame wrapped around her conscience. And it felt right; felt like it belonged there. After all, she was responsible for Sarah and now she was gone. No matter what, the responsibility for that would always come back to her.

  Still, something bothered her. Obviously Jack had psychological problems, his actions since his accident with Huckley showed that. But he had still been coherent. Still Jack. More paranoid, sure, but still rational. So how did he turn into that animal she’d seen in Huckley’s room in just one day?

  The only blessing was that Huckley had revived from the coma earlier that afternoon. The charge against Jack would not be murder, only attempted murder. But Huckley’s sudden recovery was another strange part of the story. It wasn’t that uncommon in strictly medical terms. Patients in comas quite often regained consciousness after a week or two. Some even did so after more than a year. More rare, but still it happened.

  The strange thing about Huckley’s case was the speed of his recovery. Patients in a coma for a period of time usually woke up weak, disoriented, and required several days of rest to recuperate.

  But Huckley was packed and ready to leave just hours after he regained consciousness. He acted as if he’d been in the hospital for nothing more than a routine checkup. Dr. Mansfield had conducted the examination and Lauren had taken little notice when word had filtered through the hospital of the bizarre recovery. While his case on a normal day would have been an irresistible medical curiosity, it couldn’t compete with the unfolding tragedy of Sarah’s disappearance.

  Now, with so many empty hours and nothing to do but let her mind wander, and with Huckley more linked to her family than ever, she gave the man’s sudden recovery more thought. Especially after the strange moment between her and Huckley last night.

  Lauren had only made eye contact once with Huckley during the ordeal of Jack’s arrest. Janney had stood between the two of them as they waited for Jack to appear. She had been both indignant and scared. Mad from being dragged to the third floor against her will. Terrified that Jack might actually show up.

  It was after the horror of seeing Jack fire the gun at the pillows stuffed under the covers of Huckley’s bed that she caught the look from Huckley. It happened when Janney was handcuffing Jack, sprawled unconscious on the floor from the blow administered by one of the Midland cops. She turned her head, not trying to look at anything, just to look away, when her eyes locked with Huckley’s.

  He had been staring at her, she was sure of it. And he was smiling. Not a self-satisfied smile of triumph, but a licentious crooked turn of his lips, an unwelcome appraisal of her body that made her feel naked, violated. On her skin she had imagined she felt the foreign touch of strong fingers moving their way up her leg, up her back, across her chest. She had reached for her clothes, pulling on them as if spiders crept across her skin. But, just as suddenly as it had started, the sensation disappeared. And when she looked up, Huckley was no longer looking at her. He was following Janney and Jack out of the door. But as she watched him leave, Huckley had raised one hand and waved his fingers in what seemed to be a slow, mocking farewell.

  Lauren noticed her knuckles had turned white from gripping her coffee cup as she relived the encounter. She took a sip and rested the rim of the mug against her lips, inhaling the steam, letting it soothe her.

  This waiting around was killing her. As a doctor, she always had a course of action. There was always another test to run or more research to perform. There was always hope for a cure and a sense that somehow she could contribute to that cure.

  But this was different. Sarah was gone and there was nothing she could do to bring her back. Except wait. Wait and let the professionals do their jobs. And that was the other problem. The professionals were not quite the varsity team of law enforcement. The Midland police wer
e only slightly better than the Keystone Kops. Janney was an egomaniac who seemed more interested in prosecuting Jack than finding her daughter. And if her phone call was any indication, the FBI didn’t give a damn.

  She had cried enough. Now she was getting angry. She had given the police their chance. She had done everything they asked, including not visiting Jack in the jail. But listening to the police had accomplished nothing. If Jack kidnapped their daughter, she needed to talk to him, needed to reach out. Maybe she could get him to tell her where their baby was hidden. Lauren decided she didn’t give a damn what the police said. She was going to talk to Jack whether Janney liked it or not.

  SIXTY-NINE

  Jack stood on the bed to look out of the barred window set high in the wall. The jail was one of the town’s historic landmarks, old brick and mortar walls and open beamed ceilings that belied the fact that it was still a functioning police station. But improvements had kept it up with the times. In the rear of the building, away from the tourists, the metal bars were the same forged steel found in any big city jail and the floor was covered in shiny institutional linoleum for easy clean-up after locking up the drunks on Friday and Saturday nights.

  The window gave him a decent view of the Savage River as it flowed through town. Besides thick metal bars, the window was secured by two sheets of thick Plexiglass, one bolted inside and the other outside. Someone had spent their jail time etching deep grooves in the plastic. Jack wondered if they had been bored or actually pathetic enough to think they could escape.

  The door to the cell block opened. Since he and Lonetree were the only prisoners, he assumed the visitor was for them. He felt his heart beat in his throat when he realized who it was.

  “Thank God.” He cried as he crossed to the bars. Her expression was cold and severe, but he didn’t care. At last he’d have a chance to explain things to her. But then another figure followed her into the cell block. Janney.