Nightmare Stalkers

by Michael La Ronn

  “Come on,” he said, motioning for us to join him.

  We followed him down a long corridor, through a land of cubicles where officers were working solemnly. Jesus, there was no sunlight in this place. If I worked here, I’d be solemn too.

  The officer led us to an interrogation room. Through the side window next to the door, we saw Darius sitting at the table with his hands clasped together, looking down while Rodgers screamed at him. Allegra was next to him with her arm locked around his. She looked frightened.

  The officer knocked.

  Rodgers turned, and seeing us, he smiled wide.

  He clapped.

  Slowly at first.

  Then louder, and longer.

  He flung the door open.

  “You all deserve an Academy Award,” he said.

  I ignored Rodgers as I entered.

  “Darius, you all right?” I asked.

  Darius didn’t look up. He kept his head down.

  “Nice to you know you are,” he said softly.

  And then I saw the tears running down his face.

  “We’re gonna talk for real now,” Rodgers said, slamming the door behind us.

  20

  “Darius, what did you tell him?” I asked.

  Darius wiped a tear away and kept his head down.

  “He told me everything,” Rodgers said. “When you didn’t cooperate, I got a warrant to search Destiny’s phone records. That led me to Darius.”

  “Shit,” I said under my breath.

  I tried to think of the name of my attorney, the woman who set up my LLC. But my mind was blanking on me. And she wouldn’t have been helpful because she wasn’t a criminal attorney.

  I was in deep shit now, and my head was spinning.

  “I’m sorry,” Darius said. “He told me you were dead.”

  “Dead?” I whispered. “Dead?”

  Rage rose in me, and it took everything I had not to punch Rodgers in the face.

  “You told him I was DEAD?” I asked.

  Rodgers shrugged. “You weren’t going to cooperate. And I didn't say you were dead. That would be illegal. I simply said your fates were unknown. Save your tears, boy. Your people are alive and well.”

  Darius punched the table.

  “Goddamn it!” he said.

  “You’re the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I said. “And I mean it.”

  “I’ll accept your compliment,” Rodgers said. “Darius confessed like his life depended on it. Heaven help you on the street. No wonder you never ended up in a gang. You would’ve snitched on all your boys pronto.”

  Darius looked up at Rodgers.

  “Yo man, why don’t you step off?” Darius said. “You got what you wanted.”

  Allegra reached over and touched my arm.

  “I’m glad you two are okay,” Allegra said.

  I gave Allegra a sympathetic look.

  “I don’t appreciate you manipulating us, Rodgers,” I said. “We’re innocent. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Rodgers chuckled and folded his arms.

  “I don’t understand you four,” he said. “All I did was tell you I wanted to talk for a minute and ask you some questions, and you all acted like you committed grand theft auto.”

  “You didn’t have to be a jackass about it,” I said.

  “Being a jackass is my job,” Rodgers said. “Like I told you, I’m going nowhere in my investigation. I needed clues. I don’t know if I trust your story or not, but it checks out.”

  He paced around the room.

  “Here’s what I want to know,” he said. “Why the hell are you running around trying to solve this girl’s problems? I don’t even know if we could help you with these little dreams you’re having, Miss da Silva.”

  “I’m in the business of helping people,” I said. “It’s that simple.”

  “Let’s see how that’s working out for you,” Rodgers said. “Oh wait, it’s not. You set a subway train on fire.”

  “And saved at least a hundred people,” I said. “Like I said, I’m in the business of helping people.”

  “Touché,” Rodgers said. “But listen. I’m going to need you guys to go home. The FBI’s got this. If you don’t leave this alone, I won’t be able to protect you if something else happens.”

  “What do you have so far?” I asked.

  “Not a lot,” Rodgers said. “But if you value being on the right side of jail bars, you’ll drop this and let it go.”

  “I don’t work that way,” I said. “Giving up is not my area.”

  Rodgers shook his head. “Let me say it again in simpler words that you can understand: stop running around like fools and go home, or we’ll put you in jail.”

  “Ain’t no justice being obstructed,” Destiny said.

  “Not yet,” Rodgers said. “But you’re in my way. I worked better when my way is unencumbered.”

  “Fancy word,” Destiny said. “Spell it.”

  Allegra, who had been watching the whole time with frightened eyes, cleared her throat.

  “Officer,” she said. “I trust them. I didn’t know what else to do, and then I found them. We’ve learned a great deal since last night. If we stop now, I don’t know if we’ll ever solve this.”

  “I’ve called in a referral to my medical guys,” Rodgers said. “I can get you some help. If anything, maybe these dreams might stop on their own.”

  “Yeah, maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow and have world peace too,” I said. “If you want to add some hope to your wishful thinking.”

  “We could all use some wishful thinking,” Rodgers said. “In the meantime, go home. And stay home. This is my last and final warning to you. Don’t make me roll up to your shop with handcuffs. You got a nice business going and I’d hate to ruin it. Honest.”

  The other officer knocked on the door and opened.

  “Hey, Rodgers, we got a problem.”

  Rodgers stepped out and the officer said something to him. In the distance, several officers grabbed their coats and started running.

  Rodgers smacked his head. He stood, hanging his head for a second. Then he opened the door.

  “All right, let’s go, all of you,” he said.

  “I told you I’m not going home,” I said. “Might as well throw me in jail now.”

  I held out my wrists.

  “Change of plans,” he said. “Looks like we’re gonna be partners.”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “There was another attack,” Rodgers said. “Center Street Station. Three dead. Looks like I could use some help after all.”

  Darius, Destiny, Allegra, and I looked at each other, flabbergasted.

  “Don’t got all day,” Rodgers said. “Let’s go!”

  We ran.

  21

  Rodgers grabbed an unmarked police SUV in the parking lot and barreled out of the parking garage.

  “Seatbelts on,” he said. “I drive like a demon.”

  I climbed into the front passenger seat and barely had a chance to put my seatbelt on before Rodgers took a sharp turn out of the garage, following a fleet of police cars.

  A radio crackled and the police spoke in a code that I didn’t understand.

  “Damn snow,” Rodgers said. He cranked up the heater, and the inside of the SUV went from freezing to sweltering.

  The snow was coming down again, making it hard to see, even with the windshield wipers on full speed.

  Snow.

  It never stopped in the winter.

  I wished just once it would be warm outside. Fighting evil is much more comfortable in warmer weather.

  Rodgers’s tires skidded as he fishtailed. He fought to regain control of the car.

  Ahead, the police were clearing a way for us, and cars pulled over.

  It was the start of rush hour traffic, and there were lights as far as I could see in every direction.

  “So what’s your story?” I asked Rodgers.

  Rodgers grunted. Even
though he was driving in the snow, he was relaxed, driving with one arm, leaning back in his seat.

  “Where do you want to start?” he asked.

  “What are you?” I asked. “I haven’t seen any powers from you.”

  Rodgers laughed out loud.

  “Oh boy, I should have seen that one coming,” he said. “You know how many times I hear that question?”

  “So my powers of perception aren’t off, then,” I said.

  “I’m a daypire,” he said.

  “The hell is a daypire?” Darius asked.

  “Vampire that walks in the daylight,” Rodgers said. “Got bit when I was a kid, and something in my blood caused a chemical malfunction.”

  “Really?” Destiny asked. “So then, do you sleep at night?”

  Rodgers laughed.

  “You’re gullible, girl!” he said. “There’s no such thing as daypires. I’m just messing with you.”

  “Then what are you?” I asked.

  “Bryce Rodgers is what I am,” he said. “I’m bona fide, one hundred percent human, which makes me magic-less.”

  “You don’t have any magic at all?” Allegra asked.

  “I thought all Magical Crimes people had to have some kind of magical power,” I said. “I heard it makes their job easier.”

  “It’s not in the rulebooks,” Rodgers said. “It’s preferred, but not required. Sometimes they need a bonehead human like me to see things that the magicals can’t.”

  In an instant, I understood his personality and why he was the way he was.

  To be a regular human in the FBI Magical Crimes would have been difficult. I couldn’t imagine working with people who could use magical powers all day while I could only sit and watch. Explained why he was such an asshole. It was the equivalent of short man syndrome. Always needed to prove himself.

  That revelation brought me peace.

  I still didn’t like Rodgers, but he was the kind of guy you wanted on your side rather than against you.

  Rodgers took a sharp turn, following the red and blue swirl of the squad cars in front of him.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Who is Aisha Renee Robinson?”

  “Just a normal girl,” I said.

  “I doubt that, dream mage,” he said.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “I did my research,” Rodgers said. “Aisha the dream mage. Destiny the shifter. Darius the wizard!”

  “We’re normal,” I said. “Grew up in the hood. Escaped with what was left of our dignity.”

  “Y’all south side?” he asked.

  Darius beat his chest and flashed a peace sign.

  “I grew up in Solomon Heights,” Rodgers said. “West side, baby. But I ain't mad atcha. Glad to see you doing something good with yourselves. I mean that.”

  He took another sharp turn.

  “Hold on, folks,” he said.

  We climbed a hill.

  Rodgers pointed to the horizon.

  “Terminal’s just over there,” he said, grabbing the radio.

  “Coming in,” he said. “Make room for me.”

  The squad cars ahead of us parted and Rodgers increased his speed.

  I glanced at the speedometer. He was driving ninety miles per hour.

  I held on to my door handle as we zoomed down the other side of the hill.

  I spotted the subway terminal in the distance now, an elevated platform that crossed over the street.

  Police blocked the street and redirected traffic to another nearby artery.

  Seeing Rodgers, two officers in winter coats removed two cordons. Rodgers barreled past them.

  He swerved and sent the SUV into a fishtail.

  We spun.

  And spun.

  And spun.

  The SUV came to a stop in the middle of the street, almost parked perfectly on the curb.

  “Was that skill or luck?” I asked.

  “A bit of both,” Rodgers said, jumping out.

  We followed him, ran through a foot of snow, up the long, long sloping steps that led up to the terminal.

  A crowd of police officers were gathered on the platform near the tracks.

  We slid to a stop. Rodgers held me back.

  “Jesus,” he said.

  Allegra gasped and turned away.

  A subway car was stopped on the far side of the platform.

  The bottom of the car was streaked with blood.

  And then I saw the bodies lying on the track—or rather, fragments of bodies.

  “Not pretty,” Rodgers said. “Not pretty at all.”

  22

  An officer blocked us from entering.

  “Stand back!” the officer said.

  “They’re with me,” Rodgers said.

  The officer looked at us, puzzled.

  “Rodgers, this is against protocol,” he said.

  “I know, but they’re the only ones who can help me solve this,” Rodgers said.

  Reluctantly, the officer stepped aside, letting us onto the platform.

  The first thing I noticed was the blood.

  It was everywhere. Across the tracks. On the edge of the platform. On the bottom of the subway car, all over the wheels.

  The smell lingering the air made me gag—a mixture of bowels, burning flesh, and gas.

  A sheriff stood on the platform talking to a KTA official. He was a middle-aged African-American man with a mustache and a paunch. He waved at Rodgers.

  “What are these people doing here?” the sheriff asked.

  “They’re with me,” Rodgers said.

  The sheriff stared at us suspiciously.

  “Aw, shit, Rodgers, you’re going to ensure that I get my ass chewed out,” the sheriff said.

  “Tell them to chew me out instead,” Rodgers said.

  “I’ll see to that,” the sheriff said. He addressed us, his demeanor changing to slightly less annoyed. “How are you folks?”

  “Glad to see you out here,” Rodgers said, shaking his hand. “This is Aisha, Destiny, Darius, and Allegra. They have clues that may help us solve this problem. What happened?”

  “We received a call of four people acting erratically on the platform,” the sheriff said. “We sent someone out to do a well check on them. By the time they got here, the people had jumped.”

  I looked at the carnage on the tracks again.

  Hard to believe the blood and guts were only four people. It looked as if a massacre happened on the tracks.

  “We’ve got security camera footage,” the sheriff said. “They all lined up and jumped at the same time. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Until today,” Rodgers said. “It’s like deja vu. Just keeps happening.”

  “I’ve seen copycat suicides,” the sheriff said, “but not like this.”

  The sheriff settled on us.

  “So what can you folks tell us?” he asked.

  “I’ve been having strange dreams for the last two days,” Allegra said. “I dreamt of subway terminals. And every time, I dreamt of people dying. When I woke up, it happened exactly as I dreamed it.”

  “What are you, some kind of clairvoyant?” the sheriff asked.

  “I’m…just regular,” Allegra said.

  “How do you know it’s not a coincidence?” the sheriff asked. “I dream about things all the time, and when I look back on ‘em, sure, maybe I predicted some things, maybe I didn’t.”

  “My dreams were vivid,” Allegra said. “I can tell you every detail. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I found Aisha, Darius, and Destiny.”

  “Dream readers,” Rodgers said. “The tall one is a dream mage.”

  “Ah,” the sheriff said, “so you all tried to figure out what was going on inside her dreams.”

  “Tried is the key word,” I said. “We’re stumped, sir.”

  “Well, here’s what we know,” the sheriff said, walking away and motioning us to follow.

  He stopped at the edge of the subway terminal and pointed to
the city skyline, where the Kemiston Memorial fire was still burning.

  “We got four incidents in the last twenty-four hours,” he said. “People are jumping on the tracks. They’re speaking gibberish before it happens. I don’t have the staff to man every subway terminal, and neither does the KTA. It’s happening randomly.”

  “At first, we thought it was some kind of organized terrorist attack,” Rodgers said. “But no terrorist I can think of is going to throw himself in front of a train. It doesn’t hurt anybody but themselves.”

  “Now we think it’s some kind of mass possession, or a mind controller,” the sheriff said.

  “It can’t be a mind controller,” I said. “I’ve dealt with mind controllers. They can’t command someone to kill themselves. It would also kill the mind controller. That’s their biggest limitation.”

  “It’s not a mass possession,” Rodgers said, shaking his head. “There have been no reports of spirits separating from the dead bodies.”

  A group of paramedics jumped onto the tracks and covered the large sections of scattered body parts with tarps, tying them on the tracks. The wind blew and flapped the tarps. I was glad to see the bodies covered up.

  “I called the mayor,” the sheriff said. “He ordered the KTA to be shut down until we figure this out.”

  “Good call,” Rodgers said. “That should at least stop the deaths.”

  “Why didn’t you shut the KTA down sooner?” I asked. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but does it take four incidents for them to finally realize there’s a problem?”

  “I wish it were that easy,” the sheriff said, grinning. “It’s called bureaucracy.”

  Rodgers tapped his cheek, surveying the scene again.

  “Did anyone on the platform see anything else?” he asked.

  “Negative,” the sheriff said. “We’re in the same spot we started. We got nothin’. Unless you folks got something.”

  I snapped my fingers with a revelation.

  “We do!” I said. “Late last night, Allegra dreamt that an incident happened in Kemiston Central Station at seven o’clock.”

  “Shit,” the sheriff said. “That’s the biggest subway terminal in the city. Seven in the morning or in the evening?”