by Bryan Nowak
Moving to the window, he observed Elizabeth and Shelly down on the walkway next to the driveway, talking to the conservation officer. Shelly had a peculiar expression on her face, and Elizabeth had mascara running down her cheeks. Kyle felt a sudden pang of worry for his mother. He needed to get down there and find out what was going on.
He took a deep breath and descended the stairs. Approaching the three, Elizabeth and Shelly suddenly fell quiet.
“Good morning,” Kyle said, nonchalantly.
The officer stepped forward, gabbing Kyle by the shoulder and wrenching his arm behind him, pushing Kyle over the hood of the truck as he did. “You’re not going to think so.”
“Hey, what the hell!” Kyle exclaimed as a pair of steel handcuffs closed around his wrists.
The officer spoke up. “I can’t believe this; but, Kyle Johnston, I’m arresting you for the rape of Elizabeth Swanson.”
“Wait, what!” Kyle shouted out in disbelief.
“That’s right, you monster … you. My father treated you like a son, and you did this to me!” Elizabeth shouted. “You know what you did.”
Kyle became enraged. “I didn’t do anything to her! I was in my room all night. I didn’t do this … please. Where is my mother?”
“You were all over my little girl last night,” Shelly yelled. “I saw him Matthew. He’s a monster!” She spat on the ground in front of him.
“Me? No, I didn’t do anything. She was all over me. I didn’t do anything to her, I swear!”
“Oh yeah? Then what the hell is this?” The officer pulled something out of his pocket. A pair of pink panties.
“Those are mine.” Elizabeth strode forward and tried to slap Kyle, but Matthew easily pushed her away, sparing Kyle. “You sick bastard. Are those a trophy? You pervert! He defiled me!”
“Stay back, Elizabeth.” The officer turned Kyle around to face him. “Care to explain?”
“He’s a pervert, that’s all the explanation you need, Elizabeth screamed.
“Shelly,” Matthew directed. “Take Elizabeth inside for now. I’ll be back later to take her statement.”
Shelly spat again on the ground at Kyle’s feet. “Come on, love, let’s get you inside.” Shelly put an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and directed her upstairs.
“I don’t know … I don’t know how they got there.” Kyle stammered. “Someone put those in my pocket while I slept.” He yelled after Elizabeth. “You brought me my clothes last night. You came barging in the room after my shower. I want my mother, and a lawyer. You can’t do this to me!”
The officer pushed Kyle into the back of the squad truck. “If I were you, son, I’d keep my mouth shut. You’re in a lot of trouble here. Rape is a felony offense, and I doubt the judge will sentence you as a minor.”
“What? No. Officer Tanner, you have to believe me. I didn’t do this.”
Matthew got into the front of the truck and started the engine. Turning around briefly, he made eye contact with Kyle. “Look, Kyle, like I told you before. Best thing you can do is keep your mouth shut. Until we get this mess straightened out, you are going to sit in my jail.”
Kyle stared out the window at the trees as they started down the driveway. He’d come close to crying the other night when his mother became so worried about being arrested. Right now, though, Kyle felt more pissed off than terrified. He wanted desperately to know where his mother was. Did she even know what was happening? How did this happen?
Breaking and Entering
As Waylon’s blood continued to trickle from his body, his speech became more and more random and nonsensical. Waylon continued talking about the hellish nightmare of the town’s existence. He spoke at length about the whole thing being run by the town’s reverend and something called, The Master.
In his few moments of clarity, Waylon strongly advised against going into town. Mike had his doubts of the ailing man’s reliability. Waylon hadn’t heard of Meghan or Kyle.
Bill helped fill in the gaps in Waylon’s memory, from his visit to Riapoke many years ago. Waylon suggested the police station was the most logical place to check. If they weren’t there, the town’s only church might be the next best place to look. He speculated that the appearance of Meghan and her son could be connected to his experience on the lake and the discovery of a severed head. Bill dismissed a lot of it as the ravings of a man quickly losing his life.
According to a local legend, Waylon said, a body entombed in the lake would remained at the bottom. If a corpse surfaced, it was an ominous sign signaling catastrophic change. Every Riapoke resident had been trained to seek out these signs and report them.
Bill woke up Mike at around 3:00 am. Waylon’s situation had gone from bad to worse as his breathing came in labored and ragged breaths. About fifteen minutes later, Waylon took in one final breath and let it out in a long, slow sigh. Waylon Anderson passed into his version of the afterlife.
Mike managed, somehow, to sleep after Waylon passed away. He woke, surprised to see the sun’s rays piercing the tree line. The night before was difficult for all of them.
At first, he and Bill considered leaving the body at the impromptu camp. However, as Bill pointed out, the conservation officer might notice if his friend’s body went missing. Their search for Meghan and Kyle could become infinitely more difficult if the entire town were suddenly hunting for them. Neither relished the idea of going back to that place.
In the early morning light, they fashioned a small stretcher, it was easier to carry Waylon’s body this way than trying to carry the dead weight back to the slaughterhouse. Even so, the task still took twenty grueling minutes. A small bead of blood leaked off the end of the tarp they’d re-purposed as a stretcher. It stood out as an ominous sign of things to come.
Mike knew turning back no longer presented an option. If even part of what Waylon had said was true, they were running out of time. Finding Meghan and Kyle was their top priority.
Silly, though, as I barely know the woman, Mike thought.
Mike felt compelled to save her, as if his wife directed the chance meeting and even now drove him to do all he could to rescue this woman and her son.
“How should we leave the body?” Bill asked.
Mike looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we just can’t dump the body randomly. We need to make sure we leave him exactly as we found him. Then again, I don’t know how often people come out here anymore.”
Mike gave Bill a puzzled look. “You’ve been here before?” It seemed Bill’s comment came from a place of surprising familiarity.
“That’s not what I meant. Based on the piles of garbage lying around, I’m guessing people don’t come out here too often. Even so, we should cover our tracks as well as we can.”
Bill’s logic was sound. Trying to remember exactly how they’d found Waylon proved difficult, trying to view the memories of the day before through the stress-stained lens of recent events. Neither one of them remembered precisely what position they’d found the unfortunate man in, so they reached a compromise based on their best recollections. Leaving Waylon just laying there felt wrong. However, the choices at this point were limited. They dumped the makeshift stretcher into an old root cellar under the house which looked unused for many years.
Heading back toward town, they tried to find a fresh set of clothes to change into, perhaps from someone’s clothesline. Mike doubted anyone would simply wave hello and then ignore two blood-covered strangers walking through the center of town. They kept to the woods as much as possible, only peering into the clearings at the homes and businesses in the distance. Their attempts to wash the blood from their clothes proved futile as they were soiled past the point simple water stood any chance of cleaning them.
Mike thought about their next moves. Walking into town would likely result in them ending up like poor Waylon, or worse. The dead man’s suggestion to check the police station sounded like their best plan of action. Failing that, checking
the church offered the second best destination. The downside of the plan was that in either place, they would stand out like sore thumbs. They had to wait and slip into these places when they knew no one would be around.
Mike remembered his ethics class from law school and one case where a lawyer bent the rules a bit to win a case. This situation far surpassed a simple bending of a rule and ventured into a course of action likely to get him disbarred; however, lives hung in the balance and time was quickly slipping away. Mike could always justify his actions after he saved Meghan and Kyle.
They needed a good vantage point to watch the police station until they were sure the building was clear of people for the night. Mike wished Waylon talked a little longer. Details like how many police officers were in town suddenly took on extreme importance. Would they have to avoid one, two, fifty? They really had no way of knowing.
Approaching an opening in the wood line, they spied an abandoned storefront, an old clothier with a sign reading “Closed”. The darkened dirty windows and the rotting wooden sign out front gave the welcome impression that the building had been abandoned for some time.
Bill looked at Mike. “Sad, the plight of small town cults in America. The economy mustn’t be doing too hot.”
Although the joke was a little flat, Mike chuckled nervously. “Do you think there is an alarm system on that building?”
“Doubt it,” Bill said, shaking his head. “It looks like that place hasn’t been touched in a while. The windows don’t even look like they have sensors on them. Should be easy enough to get inside. But, I have to ask you, are you really prepared to do this?”
“Bill, after everything we have seen and heard, why would you even ask me that?”
“Just checking,” Bill answered. “This road looks pretty deserted. We can run across it and hope no one notices. You go first, make for the alleyway and hide behind something. Once you are safely away and I don’t hear an angry mob coming after you, I’ll go next.”
“Gee, thanks, Bill. You’re all heart,” Mike said, flatly.
Mike stared down both directions of the roadway. He looked left and then right, for any signs of life. Thankfully, the road remained clear. A simple two-lane highway; to him, it might as well be the width of a football field. Once he broke cover, there was no turning back. If anyone spotted them, it could spell the end.
Dredging up as much courage as possible, Mike took the first step onto the pavement. Legs, knees, and feet worked against him as cramps sprang up in both of his calves. Propelling his tired body forward, Mike risked a brief glance to the left to see a pair of headlights turn onto the roadway, coming toward him. It was still over a half mile away; however, that distance would quickly be eclipsed by a car.
It didn’t even feel like himself disappearing into the darkened shadows being cast across the alleyway next to the building. The image played out in his mind as a film based on his life. Quickly ducking behind a row of garbage cans, he scanned the rest of the alley for movement which seemed clear, save for a cat, looking for dinner. Down the alley, in the street, a flash of color caught his attention as the car drove by at an alarmingly slow speed. Or maybe it was just his presently overtaxed imagination. Someone, sitting behind the wheel, talked on a cell phone. Thankfully they didn’t seem to have spotted him. Mike let out a sigh of relief. They’d gotten lucky.
Waiting behind a cluster of metal garbage cans for what seemed like hours, several cars and trucks crossed in front of him in both directions. No sign of Bill, indicating he’d either been delayed by vehicles crossing the road or worse, spotted by one of them. Hoping to hell no one grabbed the older, slower man, Mike felt the oppressive weight of going it alone if Bill were out of the equation. Bill provided his direction and his only link to the outside world if their plan went south. The distinct possibility of leaving Kelley without her remaining parent loomed in front of him.
A sudden, cold, reality gripped him. Bill’s words rang true, they shouldn’t have come. Mike wondered what his daughter was thinking right now. Likely worried because Dad had gone missing the night before and hadn’t come home as expected. How did they let this situation get so out of control?
Perhaps his worry about Meghan overrode common sense. Concern for a woman he barely knew, may have put him in mortal danger.
Mike’s heart rate climbed to an unhealthy level as time ticked away and Bill failed to appear in the alley. Older or not, it shouldn’t have taken him this long to cross the street. Was this all a huge mistake? If it was, it had the potential for making him pay with his life. Worse yet, he gambled with Meghan, Kyle, and now Bill’s lives as well.
Two more cars drove by. Something went terribly wrong and Bill must have been captured. Creeping back up the alley and glancing out across the street. In the woods, there was no sign of Bill at all. While possible the older man still waited out there, the road stood clear of vehicles, nothing should keep him on the other side of the road.
Mike returned to the back of the store. There was only one thing to do at this point, he would have to press on alone. Prying off a badly worn piece of plywood covering a broken store window, he climbed inside. Time to reformulate the plan. The reality of having three people to rescue set in.
The store sat as empty as Bill figured it’d be. It reeked of dust and disuse. He made a quick search of the place, finding an old shirt with the store’s logo on it. He sighed in relief as he changed out of his bloody undershirt.
Thank heavens for small victories, he thought.
The floor of the store looked like a marketing firm had installed it as flooring as fliers and newspaper ads littered the entire space. Based on the dates of the newspapers, the place had been closed for at least ten years. Many of the ads, he noticed, were for a tent revival led by one Reverend Swenson.
On the counter, next to an old cash register, lay a small receipt book, a Yellow Pages, and a pencil, dutifully waiting for business that never came. Flipping open the antiquated phone book, a relic from a time before smart phones automatically found the phone number of any business, Mike found an old city map showing the layout of a younger version of Riapoke. Although browned and brittle with age and discolored from a water leak, the streets and major landmarks were clearly legible. A blue badge symbol marked the location of the police station. Similarly, a cross depicted the location of the local church. He tore the map out and put it in his pocket.
Now, armed with a clean-ish shirt and an old map of the town, Mike steeled himself for what came next. It was time to find Bill, Meghan, and Kyle.
The Enemy of my Enemy is Not My Friend
Kyle paid close attention to the sequence of roads they drove down. If the opportunity presented itself, memory of the roads could help to escape the situation. Still, sitting tight, however, offered the most logical course of action for the moment. Once the officer looked at the panties and analyzed them, he’d realize Kyle didn’t rape Elizabeth. He just hoped he wasn’t being framed.
Sitting in silence the squad truck turned the corner down another road, a large building loomed in front of them. It rose from the green trees and the serene park-like setting, as if commanding even the forests attention. Although there were no religious symbols on the building, it had the air of a church.
Matthew turned to Kyle, and with a growl said, “Stay here. Not that you have any real choice at the moment.”
Kyle said, “Geeze, and I was about to run out for coffee. Where’s here, anyway?”
Matthew answered, “We’re at the church. I need to check in and then we can be on our way.”
Kyle watched Matthew walk up to the door, where he was greeted by the reverend. There was no way Kyle would voluntarily talk to that man right now. Surprisingly, the reverend and Matthew only shared a couple of words and then they separated. Donny disappeared inside the building and Matthew turned back toward the truck. An odd reaction to the officer telling him that Elizabeth accused a house guest of rape and the officer was taking the boy to jail
. The reverend should be ready to kill, or severely injure, Kyle with his bare hands.
Matthew walked back toward the squad truck. Irritation and confusion played out across his face at whatever the reverend said. The officer slid back behind the steering wheel of the truck, slamming the door with a clang of steel. “Well, you’re a lucky teen.”
Kyle lifted up handcuffed wrists and said, “Really, because I’m pretty familiar with luck and this doesn’t seem lucky to me.”
The officer ignored his flippant remark. “Reverend Swenson says he’s sure Beth is making the whole thing up as a plea for attention. He’s not going to press charges; however, he wants to talk to you after I’m done.”
A sudden sense of relief overtook Kyle. “Thank God, someone has some sense around here.”
“Don’t get too cocky, lad. You’re still going to spend time in the jail. Regardless of what the good reverend says, I want to analyze these panties and confirm Elizabeth is lying. The law is still the law, and I have procedures to follow.”
Kyle sat back in the seat. “Fine, proceed away. There’s no way you are going to find any evidence of rape. I told you, I didn’t do it.”
“Kyle, that is a good attitude to have. And, if he’s right, and you didn’t do it, I’ll be the first one to apologize. However, that leaves the question of what kind of attention she is trying to get.”
Kyle leaned forward in the seat. “Maybe the answer is as simple as, she’s bat-shit crazy?”
“Watch the language, kid.” Matthew tried to hide a smirk and failed. “Although, you might be onto something.”
Kyle kept a close eye on the road signs as they made their way through town. There were plenty of reasons to worry about the course of this investigation. He’d seen plenty of stories on television about people who were wrongly accused and convicted. An escape plan would be a good thing to have in his back pocket. Although, this situation might work itself out after all.