Doppelganger

by Byron Starr

  The nurse turned to Barbara and Pastor Talley. “He may be delirious.” Then she added in a quieter tone, “The doctors haven’t ruled out brain damage.”

  “I know what I saw.” Dan tried to yell, but only managed to speak in the same volume he’d been using, only with slightly more spit coming from his mouth. The left side of Dan’s face was numb for some reason, and his mouth refused to cooperate entirely.

  Barbara stooped down beside him, and, forgetting his injuries, started to stroke his head. Her hand was intercepted by the nurse’s. Barbara leaned forward and said sweetly, “Jeremy would never do such a thing, Dan. He’s such a sweet boy.”

  “He’s a little killer, Bar. I saw him,” Dan said, spitting more, but managing a little more volume this time.

  Noting that Dan’s blood pressure was on the rise, the older nurse suggested, “Perhaps we should leave him alone. He needs his rest.”

  Ignoring the nurse, Pastor Talley stooped down beside Dan and, while Barbara’s head nodded vigorously at his every word, said, “Jeremy’s been here waiting for you to wake up for four days. We’ve prayed together for you to return to us. There’s no way he would have ever done anything to hurt you or Lisa.”

  “You weren’t there, you damn Bible-thumper,” Dan said, gaining even more volume now, and quite a bit more spittle.

  “We need to leave him alone until the doctor can have a look at him,” the nurse said as she rose from her little stool.

  Still ignoring the nurse, Pastor Talley turned to Barbara and said, “Maybe if we brought Jeremy in to see him it would help bring him around.”

  At this Barbara started nodding vigorously before the preacher finished his sentence. She started to say something, but was interrupted by the nurse who bluntly said, “Everybody out, or I’m calling security.”

  * * *

  Texas Ranger Sam Jones was contacted as soon as Dan Chamblin came around, and he wasted no time getting to Beaumont.

  At the hospital Sam was briefed by Dan’s doctor, Reginald Thomas, an old friend of Sam’s. Doctor Thomas told Sam that other than some facial paralysis that seemed to be wearing off Dan showed no signs of brain damage, but he did seem a little delusional — he kept insisting his son had been the one who attacked him. Doctor Thomas agreed to allow Sam to have a talk with Dan, but only a brief one, and only if Sam didn’t put Dan under too much stress.

  After talking with Doctor Thomas, one of the nurses led the way down the hall from the nurse’s station to Dan’s room. Sam followed behind her, with his hat in his hand. A teenaged boy and an older lady were sitting outside the door to the room. It was Dan’s son, Jeremy Chamblin, and Dan’s mother Wilma Chamblin. Sam recognized them from Lisa Chamblin’s funeral. Jeremy was sitting in a chair outside, bawling his eyes out. His grandmother had her arm around him, trying to comfort him.

  “Stay right here while I see if he’s awake,” the nurse told Sam.

  She went through the door, leaving Sam in the hall with Jeremy and Wilma. Sam stood awkwardly by the door, listening to Jeremy cry and his grandmother try to soothe him.

  “He didn’t mean it, Jeremy. You know he didn’t,” he heard the old lady whisper to her grandson.

  “B-but he s-said he never wanted to s-see me again,” Jeremy sobbed.

  “He didn’t mean it,” Wilma said, pulling the poor boy to her.

  “W-why did he say that? Why?”

  That was all it took: Sam had never met the man, but he already couldn’t stand Dan Chamblin.

  After a couple of minutes which seemed like forever, the nurse opened the door and said. “He’s up. I’ll be in the nurses’ station if you need anything.”

  Sam walked into the room and noticed quite a few flowers, but most of them had been brought here from Lisa’s funeral. Some still had the ribbons on them. Poor taste, in Sam’s opinion, but from what he’d seen so far it was no wonder Dan had no flowers of his own. He saw that Dan was lying on his stomach; his hospital gown showing just a little more than Sam cared to see. Sam saw the little stool beside Dan’s bed, but he figured if he ever managed to bend his big frame down far enough to sit on it he might not be able to get back up. So, he sat in the chair Barbara had been sitting in earlier.

  Sam introduced himself. “I’m Captain Sam Jones.”

  “You a Ranger?” Dan asked hoarsely, cutting his eyes over at Sam.

  “So they tell me.”

  “Doctor Thomas said a Ranger was coming to have a talk.”

  “Well, Reggie — Doctor Thomas that is — said that I’d have to be brief, so I’ll cut to the chase. I need to know what you remember about the night of November fourteenth.”

  Sam was just in the corner of his eyes; Dan was having trouble turning his head in that direction. His face tightened up in what could only be described as a full-facial-pucker. Once the pained expression left his face, Dan said, without trying to turn his head, “I’ll tell you what happened. My damn son killed my wife and tried to kill me.”

  Sam shook his head. “Start from the beginning, Mr. Chamblin, please.”

  Dan sighed heavily. “Me and Lisa was sittin’ up late watchin’ TV. Then Jeremy came bangin’ on the door, hollerin’ to be let in.”

  “You heard him? Did he sound like your son?”

  “Hell, yeah he sounded like him. It was him. He was bangin’ away, demandin’ we let him in.”

  “Was he banging aggressively on the door, like he was angry?” Sam asked, while bringing one of his big boots up on the stool beside Dan, using it as a footstool.

  “Hell, I don’t remember. He wanted in. That’s all I know,” Dan said.

  Sam calmly said, “Continue. Jeremy’s knocking on the door.”

  “Like I said, Jeremy was bangin’ on the door, wantin’ in,” Dan cut his eyes over, probably too see if he’d gotten a reaction from Sam when he had injected the word banging again. He continued. “Lisa got up and let him in. He knocked her down, and attacked me.”

  “Did you notice anything strange about him?”

  “Well, the little prick killed his mother and tried to kill his father. That’s a little strange,” Dan spat.

  Sam shook his head again and grumbled. He should have seen that one coming. “I’m talking about physical actions – how he moved.”

  “He hit me from behind. I never got a good look,” Dan said, a driblet of spittle trickled down from the corner of his mouth onto the mirror below. “He was on me before I could react.”

  “A man of your size should have been able to defend himself against a boy Jeremy’s size. Wouldn’t you say he was faster or stronger than normal?” Sam said. He was normally too much of a pro to bait a question, but that kid bawling outside the door had given him an ulterior motive.

  Dan, however, didn’t take the bait. “He ain’t never attacked me before! How the hell would I know?” he exclaimed in a slur/shout combination. “The boy came up behind me and cut me twice that I remember, with a big knife or a machete or somethin’.”

  “Are you sure he had a weapon in his hands?”

  “Of course I’m sure. You think he did this with his fingernails?”

  “Did you see a weapon, Mr. Chamblin?” Sam said, with an only slightly hidden edge in his voice.

  Dan paused a couple of seconds before saying, “I didn’t exactly see the knife.”

  “Go on,” Sam said.

  “Well, after he hacked me, with whatever, maybe his damn fingernails, I blacked out. I guess that’s when the little prick turned on his mother and killed her.” After Dan finished with his story, he paused, waiting for a reaction, but Sam wouldn’t give him one so he added, “And that’s all I remember.”

  Sam didn’t say anything at first. He wasn’t sure what they were dealing with in Newton County, but he was sure Jeremy Chamblin hadn’t attacked his parents. He felt he should make an effort to right this wrong, but the question was how much should he tell this idiot?

  About ten more seconds passed before Sam said, “I know for a fa
ct that Jeremy didn’t attack you and your wife, Mr. Chamblin.”

  Dan quickly replied, “That seems to be what everybody that wasn’t there thinks, but I was there. I saw him. He attacked me, then turned on his own mother. The little prick.”

  Sam’s temper was building, but he remained calm. “There are over two dozen witnesses who were with him at the church the night you and your wife were attacked. And I’ve personally interviewed two officers who remember seeing his car in the church parking lot that night.”

  Dan was a slow learner. He tried again to turn his head, causing pain to shoot through his neck once more. Once the pain had subsided he spat, “I don’t give a damn what you, or anybody else says, I know what I saw! The little prick tried to kill me! Now, are you going to do your job and arrest the little bastard, or are you gonna wait till he kills me, too?”

  That was all Sam could take. He took his leg off his makeshift footstool and kicked it across the floor, hard enough to make it scoot all the way to the far wall, but not so hard that it fell over or smashed into the wall. In one quick, fluid motion Sam came out of his reclined position in the chair and knelt down beside Dan. The speed in which the big man could move was astounding, especially considering he was seventy years old. Dan’s eyes were as wide as saucers; he could see the big man in his mirror. Sam’s mouth was only an inch, maybe less, from his ear; he could hear Sam’s deep breathing, now quickened by his anger. “Listen you no-good son of a bitch,” Sam whispered in his deep voice. “If you call that kid a prick one more time I’m going to forget I promised Dr. Thomas to leave you in the same condition I found you. I’ll bounce you off every wall in this hospital.”

  Sam paused, letting what he had said sink in. He could hear the tempo from Dan’s heart monitor doubling in speed. His own big heart was thundering in his chest to the point that when he quit talking, he could hear his own pulse throbbing in his ears.

  Sam continued. “The next time your boy comes through that door you are going to be so sweet you’ll drip honey. Got it?”

  Receiving no immediate answer, Sam looked down into the mirror at Dan’s wide frightened eyes staring up at him and asked, still in a hoarse whisper, “Are we clear on this?”

  Dan forgot his injuries again and tried to nod, causing his face to pucker up in pain again. This caused a smile to momentarily crease Sam’s face. He turned back to Dan’s ear and continued. “If I hear any different — and I will find out — I’ll come back for another little visit and I’ll break every bone in your worthless body.” Sam started to get up, then he thought of one more thing. He leaned back into Dan’s ear, “And if you think you need to tell someone about our little talk, go right ahead. Just keep in mind, no one’s going to take your word over mine.”

  Sam stood up. He looked down into Dan’s mirror and said in a calm, friendly voice, “Well, that just about covers it Mr. Chamblin. Thank you for your time.”

  When Sam strode back down the hall, he found Doctor Thomas at the nurses’ station, studying a chart.

  “How was he, Sam?” the doctor said, looking up at Sam over the top of his bifocals.

  “You might want to cut down on his pain medication,” Sam suggested.

  Reginald’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

  “In fact, you might want to cut it out altogether,” Sam added with a grin. “A man like him could use a little pain.”

  Getting Sam’s drift, the old doctor smiled and replied, “It’s crossed my mind, believe you me.”

  * * *

  Sam drove back to Newton at a considerably slower pace than he had left. He was normally a lead-footed driver, but today he needed time to think so he made the trip at a leisurely sixty miles per hour.

  He thought of his conversation with Dan. There was no doubt that Dan really believed his son had attacked him and his wife, yet there was also no doubt that Jeremy didn’t commit the crime. This seemed to coincide perfectly with what Bill had told him James had said about the beast: it could disguise itself. But, that was impossible. How could something disguise itself so perfectly that someone’s own mother and father wouldn’t know the difference?

  Sam had seen his share of weird cases in his career, but this one took the cake.

  Another thing was bothering Sam. Ever since his heated conversation with Dan Chamblin, he had a dull pain in the left side of his chest and on down his left arm. Sam was well aware what that could possibly mean, and had meant to talk to Doctor Thomas about it. But, Reginald had been busy and he was in a hurry to get back to Newton. He would have to add this to his long list of things to do when all this was over.

  Chapter 17

  Slumber Party

  The citywide curfew was anything but popular with the people of Newton, especially the teenagers, and when teenagers are unhappy, they inevitably find ways to make their parents miserable. The best solution for the problem was for the parents to find something for the teenagers to do.

  Lisa Beck had just turned fourteen, so the curfew didn’t affect her as much as many other teenagers. But Lisa whined about the curfew nonetheless. On Wednesday Lisa’s mother, Tina Beck, had suggested that Lisa invite her friends over for a slumber party Friday night.

  Almost fifteen years ago, Tina Beck had gotten knocked-up back in high school. The father was one of two local boys, both of whom pointed a finger at the other one and swore the child wasn’t his. Despite being only sixteen and having both her parents pushing for an abortion, Tina decided to keep the baby. Tina’s parents and friends warned her about what she was getting into, but, oddly enough, Tina found herself to be excited about the prospect of having a baby. This excitement didn’t wane in the least during the pregnancy, or even after Lisa was born — unlike many other teenaged mothers whose enthusiasm wears off after the third or fourth diaper change, Tina loved it. Tina left all her party-going high school ways behind and never looked back. Her baby, named Lisa after her aunt, became the center of her life. As her daughter grew older, Tina remained highly involved in her daughter’s life. In fact, there were times when Lisa would argue that her mother was a little too involved.

  Unlike many parents who would have thought a slumber party would be a major pain in the neck, Tina always enjoyed the company of her daughter and her daughter’s friends. All through grade school Tina had been the sponsor of the majority of the girls’ slumber parties. In fact, Tina was excited about the prospect of another sleep over; it had been so long since the last one. When she made the suggestion, Tina had been worried that her daughter might think she had outgrown slumber parties, but Lisa was beside herself with enthusiasm. As soon as Tina voiced her idea, Lisa was on the phone to her friends. Lisa called six of her closest friends, Megan Pierce, Theresa Barrett, Shelly Polk, Julie Pender, Janet Johnson, and Crystal Nickerson, and started making the plans. Tina then talked to all the parents. Julie and Janet’s parents were too concerned over the recent killings to allow their daughters to stay overnight, and it took quite a bit of convincing to persuade the other four parents, but, in the end, the party was a go. Megan, Theresa, and Crystal would ride the bus home from school with Lisa; Shelly’s mom would drop her off at Lisa’s at around six that afternoon.

  After a Thursday filled with anticipation, Friday finally came. Despite the fact that the girls were now teenagers, the party followed the normal routine for all adolescent slumber parties. The girls watched movies until dark — horror movies, in keeping with recent local events — then they gathered their sleeping bags into a little circle in Lisa’s room and gossiped about boys. They had a brief pillow fight, which Tina broke up, fearing someone might get hurt. Eventually they got to that well-known stage of the slumber party where all the girls gang up on the least popular girl, in this case Megan, and relentlessly picked on her until she wants to go home. Megan, still following the generations-old manual of late adolescence and early teen slumber parties to a tee, then went and told Tina that she wanted to call her mother — she wanted to go home. Tina came in and made everybody
apologize. Tina had just left the room and Crystal had started picking on Megan again when a knock came at the door.

  * * *

  The beast was on the prowl in Newton again. It slowly and stealthily made its way among the shadows. As the beast moved from backyard to backyard it would occasionally detach its vision and take a look inside. It seemed like the beast was not hunting but strolling leisurely through a buffet line.

  The beast was passing through a backyard, when it heard talking inside the house. It detached its vision and sent it through the walls. Inside one room was a woman watching a television. It didn’t enter her mind, not yet. The beast knew there were other people in the house so it continued the search. Then it hit the jackpot: five young girls, four of them giggling and talking, the fifth one pouting in her sleeping bag. If the one watching the TV could be killed before she made too much noise, maybe the neighbors would think the girls screams were just childish playing.

  The beast entered the mind of the pouting girl. Then each of the other girls. It returned to the living room and entered the lady’s mind. Then the beast outside opened its eyes, stood up on two legs, and walked around toward the front door.

  * * *

  At Emilio’s trailer-house, just outside of Newton, James woke up with such a start, that he tumbled off the couch and onto the floor. It was dark in the unfamiliar house and James couldn’t find a light.

  “Emilio!”

  Now on his feet, James continued fumbling around, looking for a light, until his hands bumped a lamp, sending it teetering on the edge of the end table. James was able to grab it before it fell off. He reached inside the lampshade and turned the lamp’s switch, but nothing happened. The bulb was burned out.