Wings In Darkness

by Gregory Kay

  This always works...for a little while. What did they say in HAMLET? ‘Aye, there’s the rub!

  Putting the glass to his lips, he took another drink, thinking about what had happened.

  If the last few miles of the ride up had been silent, the ride back was even worse. Fiona was absolutely livid, and didn’t trust herself to speak beyond demanding he take her back to the hotel now. Once there, as she flung open the door and was getting out of the car, Luke had made the mistake of asking her what he had done wrong to get her that mad at him.

  As a result, he now knew that she considered the whole thing to be a conspiracy, a hoax, a fraud, and a put-up job, and that he was one of the primary conspirators. It was his job, she asserted, along with Harry’s, to lure her away and keep her away from the turnoff in order to give his buddy – the figure she had seen in the brush – a chance to remove the evidence. He had encouraged her affection only to betray her; he was no different than “that son of a bitch, Cliff!”

  Luke grimaced at the memory and took another drink. He had never liked being called a liar, and he reflected that it had probably not been the best response on his part to lose his own temper and ask her if she’d really expected him to tell the sheriff to post an officer to guard a damned tree branch in the middle of nowhere as possible evidence in what was, essentially, misdemeanor damage to property: i.e., Johnny’s Camaro?

  Needless to say, things had rapidly gone downhill from there.

  Damn it to hell! Turning his eyes to the ceiling, he asked whoever might be up there beyond it, “What did I ever do to you? Wasn’t it enough that you had to take Linda and our baby, especially the way you did? Why did you have to finally give me hope, after two damned, long years, just to smash it on the ground? I’m like Job; I’ve got nobody left, so I reckon the least you could do is give me an answer; just tell me why. That’s all I ask.”

  Luke looked down at the glass in his hand, saw the whiskey inside quivering, and forced his muscles to relax before the the container shattered in his grip. Then he snorted.

  “I don’t know why I keep asking; I know I’m never going to get an answer, but it would be nice to know if you’re listening or not.”

  He thought about Fiona and took a huge gulp instead of a sip this time, but it didn’t seem to help.

  THURSDAY

  CHAPTER 15

  Alone in her hotel room, Fiona felt like shit despite her best efforts to the contrary. She’d made her report – just bare bones, and to Hell with that prick Sidney if he doesn’t like it! – and had walked to the local Tex-Mex place just down the street for dinner and about two too many drinks, then left after loudly suggesting to some clown who had come onto her that he go commit an unnatural act with himself. Back in her room, she surfed the web for more information on Point Pleasant in general and Mothman in particular, and still couldn’t get what had happened out of her head.

  It freaking hurts so bad!

  Now that she had calmed down enough to think clearly, she couldn’t see how Luke could have possibly been communicating with anyone without her noticing, as she had literally been by his side the whole time. Harry, maybe, but not Luke; in fact, the only time Luke had been away from her was during a brief stops just long enough to allow one or the other of them to go to the john. Of course, he could have done it last night, she guessed, but if he hadn’t wanted her to access it, why would he have allowed her to nearly kill him in the process of getting her up the tree so she could see it in the first place. If he had simply let her continue to try, and fail, to climb, it wouldn’t have been an issue at all. For that matter, he could have just as easily taken her to a different spot; there were half a dozen pull-offs on that same stretch of road, all of them virtually identical, and there was no way she’d have ever known the difference.

  No, logically the most likely culprit was that guy who had been spying on them: almost certainly the same disturbing individual who had apparently been stalking her.

  Shit! I’ve really screwed up this time!

  Still, she wondered, was that really such a bad thing? There was a definite chemistry between them – alright, more than just ‘chemistry;’ there! I admit it! – but under the circumstances, nothing could ever come of it except hurt for both of them. In retrospect, she decided, it had been a blessing in disguise and the right thing to do.

  Then why do I feel so damned lousy about it?

  “Because you didn’t do the right thing! And when you do the wrong thing, you have to take responsibility, own up to it, and make it right. I’m sorry kid, but it’s for your own good!”

  That last was from her father, and a lesson she remembered all too well. When she was twelve, she had successfully shoplifted a pair of cheap, flashy earrings from a corner store on a whim, with the successful part being getting them out of the store; she forgot to take them out of her pocket, and her mother found them that night when she was sorting laundry. The next morning a miserable Fiona, her butt feeling like it was on fire after both her parents had taken turns beating it and her face burning just as badly with embarrassment, was escorted to the store by Mr. and Mrs. Pelligatti, where she was forced to return the earrings, apologize, and ask what she could do to make up for it. As a result, she got up an hour early for the next week in order to have time to sweep and scrub the sidewalk in front of the shop before going to school. She never stole anything again, and it was a lesson she never forgot. Logically, she knew this was the same thing, guilt at a level the nuns back at school would have heartily approved of.

  He did nothing to deserve being treated like that...and besides, I think I’ve fallen in...I mean I really like him...a lot!

  Looking at the clock for what must have been the fiftieth time and seeing the numbers reading 2:06 am, she decided that logic and guilt made really piss-poor bed companions. Despite her fatigue from the accumulating sleep deprivation, she’d done nothing but toss and turn, and, after an additional hour and half of that, couldn’t stand it anymore.

  She showered again, just to get herself a little more alert, put on jeans, a black knit top, and her leather jacket, slipped on her tennis shoes, and went downstairs to ask a few questions of the night desk clerk. Of course, the only all-night grocery store was about five blocks in the opposite direction that she ultimately needed to go. And, of course, Point Pleasant no longer had a taxi service; hadn’t had one for years, she was helpfully informed.

  Oh well, Sister Agnes always said that penance was good for the soul...usually right before she hit me in the ass with a ruler!

  A city girl, she was alert out of habit when going out on the streets at night, and she scanned the area carefully from the lobby before she opened the doors, but there was no sign of the man in black. So she stepped out and went on her way, never seeing the figure that oozed out of the shadows from the alleyway in the rear of the post office just across 4th Street.

  Instead of falling in behind her, he stayed in the alley, paralleling her while concealed by the buildings, his keen ears allowing him to follow her progress. He hadn’t expected her to come out this late, and he was curious as to where she might be going.

  He smiled his disturbing predator’s smile.

  She may present an opportunity to solve this problem.

  Considering the small size of the town, Fiona was pleasantly surprised that she managed to find everything she was shopping for, and quickly too, a process helped along by the fact that she was the only customer at that hour. Once she'd paid the sleepy clerk at the checkout counter, she retraced her steps and passed the hotel again, her plastic grocery bag swinging from her hand, and four blocks later she left the downtown business section all together. Her sneakers made faint scuffing sounds on the sidewalk as she walked north along a Main Street that had abruptly turned from store fronts to large older houses and churches, and was amazed at just how quiet a town could be. New York might never call it a night, but Point Pleasant obviously did; in the dark few hours on a week-night, between the bars clo
sing and garbage men starting their daily rounds, she was literally alone. No cars, no pedestrians, no noise at all except for the almost inaudible rustle of the faint, nearly imaginary breeze through the black trees, the still-fainter whisper of the Ohio only a block away to her left, and the sound of her own footsteps. Everyone Fiona had talked to seemed to think the town was haunted, but it seemed like she was the only ghost tonight, a shadow passing from the soft pools of the streetlights into the still-softer rivers of shadow flowing between them, and out again, with no company except the occasional fallen autumn leaf, dry and skittering on the pavement when the wind picked up enough to move it. She suddenly realized she had never been so alone in her life, other than cocooned in her car, and it was a strange sensation.

  She shivered a little, although not from fear; she wasn’t afraid, exactly, just a little unnerved by the experience and by an uneasy, un-definable feeling she couldn’t quite put her finger on, as if something was not quite right. Still, the main problem was the temperature; already fallen to the upper forties when she left the hotel, it felt like it had dropped another five degrees, and despite her jacket, she was starting to get a little chilly by the time the big houses gave way to smaller, slightly shabbier ones, so she picked up her pace until she hit the railroad crossing and a quandary.

  Fiona had always had a good sense of direction and an excellent recall of places; she knew the strange layout of the streets here would add at least a few blocks to her walk, while the railroad would save her that distance, because it ran within a couple hundred yards of Shore Street and Luke’s house. One set of tracks did, at least, but since there were only two in town and the other one was elevated – she had walked under that one’s trestle a few blocks back – that meant it had to be this one. Of course, unlike the streets, it wasn’t lighted other than the glow of the streetlights between the dark houses for part of the distance and nothing at all for the rest, but, although the night was a little overcast, the three quarter moon still gave enough light to see by, albeit gray-on-black.

  She shrugged; this was Point Pleasant, not New York, and she only had to go a few hundred yards. She’d kept a close watch since she’d left the hotel, and had seen no sign of the man in black; she was certain the perv had given up and gone to bed long ago. Nothing was likely to happen to her in this town other than a severe attack of boredom, and she’d be damned if she was going to freeze her ass off because she was afraid of the dark, so she set off down the tracks.

  The wooden cross ties were evenly spaced, making for easy walking once Fiona got her rhythm up. The steady pace warmed her, and, although weirdly melancholy, the experience was almost pleasant in its own surreal way; being alone outdoors was a novel experience for her. Idly, she glanced behind her.

  The figure passing from light to shadow as he followed the tracks in her wake was well over a hundred yards away from her, maybe closer to two hundred, but she instinctively knew who it was. Something in the outline and the strange movement instantly brought to mind the man who’d been watching her; even at a distance, the sense of wrongness about him was plain in his movements. She stumbled when she saw he was walking at a pace a bit faster than her own, gradually narrowing the distance.

  Oh shit!

  The fear threatened to take control of her, but she refused to let it. Instead, she scanned the railroad bed as she continued walking until she found something she could use for a weapon, and paused to pick up two fist-size pieces of limestone. Slipping the grocery bag handles up over her wrist, she took one rock in her left hand while holding the other in her right, ready to throw. Still, the logical part of her knew he might have a knife or a gun, in which case she would be like Charlie Brown at Halloween:

  All I’ve got is a rock!

  Her pursuer slowed just a little when she picked up the stones, and Fiona was momentarily grateful she'd made him hesitate, but, although a bit more cautiously, he was still closing the space between them, so she stepped up her own pace.

  So did he. He was less than a hundred yards away when a side street she recognized crossed the tracks, right next to some funeral home’s casket warehouse. The situation was like something out of a horror movie, and she would have laughed if she hadn’t been so scared. Still, she was glad it was there, because she remembered it, and knew that it was only three blocks from Luke’s.

  Without warning, she cut left on the intersecting street and started running for all she was worth, leaving her pride behind wondering what the hell had happened.

  She didn’t know if the sound of his rapid footsteps were real or only existed in her imagination, but she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

  Turning right on the next street, Fiona abruptly came face to face with a large brown and white pit bull standing directly in front of her. The huge dog had to weigh at least as much as she did, and the length of heavy but still-broken chain dragging on the ground from his broad collar told her loud and clear that he was not normally allowed to run loose, and she could only assume that was for good reason.

  She slid to a stop, caught between the proverbial devil and the deep blue sea, unsure of what to do. Then the dog looked at her and growled, a deep rumble that began in his massive barrel chest, and rippled out between gleaming ivory teeth that, from her vantage point, looked like they would have been right at home in Godzilla's jaws.

  “Nice doggie...” was all she could think of to say.

  Shit! I don’t dare run or he’ll chase me by instinct and eat me alive! Hearing the faint but rapid sound of footsteps closing behind her, she gripped her rocks tighter and thought, what the hell am I going to do?

  The choice was made for her by the dog; she realized it wasn’t actually looking at her at all, but behind her, although it still frightened the hell out of her when, roaring with rage, it barely brushed her leg when it bolted past her like a shot, charging directly at her pursuer just rounding the corner.

  The startled man in black abruptly reversed direction and ran back into the darkness, with the dog rapidly gaining on him. As she listened to the noise receding, Fiona smiled cruelly and called out, “Sic ‘em, boy! Get him! I hope he tears you a new asshole, you asshole!” Then, to herself at a much lower volume, “Man, that dog acted like he really hated him. I wonder if he did something to it? Probably; freaking perverts like that are just the type!”

  Satisfied her stalker wouldn’t be back anytime soon, if at all, she decided to quickly walk the rest of the way instead of running, but she still took her rocks with her, just in case.

  She felt good for the first block, then a different kind of fear set in, her pace slowed, and, her breath steaming in the cold night air, she began to curse herself for an idiot.

  CHAPTER 16

  Luke woke up to a faint but steady creak-creak-creak; he closed his eyes tighter, wrinkling them at the corners, but the sound wouldn’t go away, and, to make matters worse, was keeping a different beat from the pounding in his head. Looking at the clock, he saw it was almost six, when he normally arose anyway, so he swung his legs off the bed and sat up, and promptly wished he hadn’t when his head and stomach both protested vigorously.

  I should’ve taken it a little easier last night, I guess.

  As soon as the room stopped spinning, he pulled on his lounge pants, got up and half-stumbled to the bathroom, bracing one hand on the wall while he relieved the pressure on his bladder. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he grimaced at the red, glassy eyes staring back at him.

  God! They look like two piss-holes in the snow!

  Still, after washing his face, brushing his teeth, gargling with some mouthwash, and knocking back a double dose of Tylenol with three glasses of water, he had to admit he felt a little better, better than he knew he deserved, certainly, considering how much liquor he had pounded down last night...except about one thing.

  That sucks! Yeah, I’m still mad, but I really liked her, damn it! For the first time since...

  His thoughts trailed off as he
realized that infernal creaking was still going on somewhere outside. Exiting the bathroom, he padded barefoot down the hall and looked out his front window. The sun was still a distant dream beneath the horizon, but even in the dim light of pre-dawn, he recognized the small figure sitting huddled and cold in his porch swing, pushing herself back and forth with her toes.

  She hadn’t heard him approaching, and she jumped when he suddenly threw open the door.

  “Fiona, what in the world are you doing out here?” She opened her mouth to answer, and he noticed the blast of cold air flowing inside and the glitter of frost that whitened the grass. “Get in here before you freeze!”

  She felt like she was about to do just that, and promptly got to her feet, scooping up a bag of groceries and bringing them with her.

  “I-I-I th-thought I-I’d make you b-breakfast,” she stammered through her chattering teeth.

  “How did you get here?”

  “I w-walked.”

  He sighed in exasperation, and, taking the bag and placing it on the coffee table, he asked, “Why didn’t you knock and let me know you were out there?”

  The reporter stared at her feet, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

  Oh God, this was such a stupid idea!

  “I-I didn’t w-want to wake you, and a-after I g-g-got here, I realized you m-might be with...someone...and it w-w-w-would be...awkward.”

  Luke sighed again and took her by the arm with one hand and led her across the room with the other around her waist, where he made her stand on the furnace vent.

  “I’m not with anyone except Rosemary! Now stand here by the heater; I’ll be right back!”

  In a moment, he was, carrying a blanket he had stripped off his bed. Without a word, he unfastened her jacket, helped her out of it, and wrapped the blanket around her, still slightly warm from his body; not only could Fiona feel it, but she could faintly smell him on it. She couldn’t help but pull it tighter.