Detective Tumbler and the Man in Brown (Detective Tumbler Trilogy Book 2)

by Jason Balistreri

  “Could they do the things that you do?”

  “The one that taught me, he could, but everyone has their own gifts and what they get out of the practice is different, I imagine it’s unique for every individual.”

  “Would I still have to move around?”

  “Yes, we are like gypsies, with our lifestyle that is how we must live. The people out there would never understand,” the man in brown says, he casts his brown eyes out the window and into the woods, he rubs his hands down his slender face, then he looks back at Clara.

  “What troubles you?” she asks.

  “One day they will take me away. We must prepare for it. I fear it may be that same man that came looking for me in the woods all those years ago.”

  “You said he gave up eventually.”

  “Sometimes a man comes back.”

  “Looking for answers?”

  “Curiosity can lead to so much pleasure in this country but it can also be the source of great danger. We don’t believe in external gods, the only thing you should worship is your self. Those that follow me have lost sight of it, I feel that I failed to instruct them properly, one doesn’t sacrifice animals, now a person has the ability to fight off harm, they may fail but at least they can defend themselves in a proper way. Every culture has practiced human sacrifice in some form; it’s in our nature, no use fighting it. Our impulses are all that matter, we can’t control them, if we let our instincts guide us then we are on the right path. This life is all about action, the things that we do are what matter, people can say anything, their words will be forgotten. Those people out there will follow us anywhere, they are sheep, they always desire a shepherd. When my time has passed, you will take my place.”

  “Why would they want to follow me?”

  “Why wouldn’t they? Believe in yourself, that’s all that matters. A person true to self is a natural leader. There are perils that I didn’t foresee; there are mistakes that I have made.”

  “Like what?”

  “Their desire to believe in an external god is so strong, despite my insistence that they shouldn’t believe in such things, they demanded one. So I gave them the leviathan, I thought it would placate their desires, I told them that murder should only be used for protection or to alleviate the suffering of others but I couldn’t control their killing, once they get the bloodlust, it latches onto them and won’t let go. Every time we go to a new town, I wonder what they will do in my absence; it seemed so simple at the start. You teach people that there is no man in the sky watching them, you teach them that they should worship what is inside if they choose to worship anything, but the truth is you can tell people there isn’t a being in the sky or a being below and they will still invent them. People are so predictable, those who pray to the east only began doing so because the sun rises there, that desire to believe in something greater is so strong that people overlook the marvel of what is within. They’ve lost the ability to look within. There is no external searching that is fruitful, some people will spend their whole lives out on the highway or in the cities looking for answers but all of that running serves no purpose, the answers are within as they always have been.”

  “Should we head to the river now?”

  “I suppose we should. They’ll be waiting.”

  “Do you ever get scared?”

  “Only one thing scares me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m afraid of death. One who lives a full life will always fear death.”

  “You’re not old enough to think about death.”

  “Clara, I’m older than I look, you came into the fold late. I’ve been at this for so long, well, it wears me out.”

  “But we need you.”

  “You will do fine in my place, we’ve brought back the old ways, it will be up to you to maintain them.”

  “How much longer do we have before he finds us?”

  “He’s only looking for me, darling. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

  “When he finds us, what will we do?”

  “Follow the river north, what little resources I have will be yours, when you find a good place to stop you will know, trust your instincts, then amass your followers. The only thing that will change is I won’t be around anymore but you’ll be prepared to thrive without me, should you seek revenge against the detective, well, that will be your decision to make.”

  “I think that is how it must be.”

  “Let your followers do the work then, you must stay above it.”

  “How long do we have before he comes?”

  “I can’t say, he’s putting the puzzle together, once it’s complete then he will arrive.”

  “Can’t we just move again, together?”

  “No, darling, I must stay to face him,” the man in brown says.

  The man in brown stands before his followers in his brown suit, brown tie, green dress shirt and brown pants, he lowers the brim on his brown hat and looks up at the stars before he begins to speak. “One day it shall be unleashed, people will run in fear from its fiery gaze and scorching breath, but they will not escape the wrath of the beast. We are the only ones who can exert control over it, our sacrifices keep its hunger abated, our rituals make sure that it remains under our control. It does not demand your worship but it will welcome it if you give your heart to it.” His voice booms through the forest like a clarion call, reverberating off of the trees and through the cavernous woods.

  “Let them see what it can do,” Clara suggests.

  “My daughter has spoken. Do you want to see its power?” Most of the followers respond that they do, some remain silent, others stare in wide-eyed frightfulness. “Behold, the leviathan,” the man in brown shouts. The sound of splitting wood and falling limbs is heard in the dark distance of the forest, a fire ascends and glows for a full three minutes, limbs continue to crack and fall, some of the followers scream, most of them gasp. “You should not fear it for I can control it but it is hungry again,” he says, the fire diminishes. The man in brown takes a wooden figurine out of his coat pocket. “This is who it demands, as always the sacrifice appeared to me in a dream. Forbearers, take it and seek out our victim, so that we may satiate the beast.” The Forbearers approach, their wild reddened eyes watch him eagerly, they kneel before him, one steps forward to take the wooden figure from his hand. “Perform the ritual as you always have, leave the head in the woods far from the camp, the body goes into the cave.”

  “As always,” they respond.

  The man in brown addresses his followers again after the Forbearers depart. “Be concerned with the present, but be mindful of the future, we will be the ones to restore the old ways and if I do not live to see it come to pass, a child shall light the way,” he says as he points at Clara. “The dead will rise and nature will take her proper place, the cities will fall, people will look to us to guide the way. Our purpose is to cleanse the heart of America, our country that has lost its way; all of our work is for that end. When the beast begins its path of destruction, we shall be spared because it knows out hearts; the leviathan knows our desires and how we have given them up for the sake of the path. Everyone knows their role, play it well. That which is beautiful is misunderstood, that which we understand is suffering.” The followers disperse, but a family remains, an older man and his wife along with their teenage son. “Ezra, what do you wish to tell me?” the man in brown asks the old man, the old man’s eyes are blue, his clothes are dirty and ragged.

  “I must speak to you in private,” Ezra says.

  “We are alone; Clara and your wife and son are the only ones who can hear us.”

  “No, this I can’t speak in front of them.”

  “As you wish,” the man in brown says, he walks with Ezra back to the cabin.

  “My wife and I are concerned about Belmont.”

  “What concerns you about your son?”

  “The boy is turning feral, he broods and when I try to talk to him, he lashes out. I had
to restrain him the last time after the ritual.”

  “Would you like me to speak to him?”

  “I think it would help. If left on our own, I may end up hunting him or he may try to attack me in our sleep.”

  “Tell him I request his presence here, you and your wife can head back home. Be prepared for the delivery.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ezra responds, he walks back and tells his son that the man in brown wants to speak to him. The man in brown hears Belmont approaching the cabin, his feet crunching the snow.

  “My father said that you wanted to see me.”

  “Yes, I think it is best if we talk. Would you like some tea?”

  “It’s not necessary but if you’re making some, I will take it, it is cold.” The man in brown puts a teapot on the stove filled with water.

  “The Japanese practiced the art of the tea ceremony. It is a tenet of Buddhism that even the simplest task is important, there is a dignity to it. During the ceremony, your mind is only focused on the present, your mind is like a polished diamond, there is an order and there is a crystalline clarity to it. Clear your mind, the tea will replenish your body,” the man in brown says, once it is ready, he pours two cups of green tea and sits at a wooden table with Belmont, the boy’s eyes dart around the room, his leg shakes. “What’s been troubling you lately?”

  “These impulses that I have, I can’t control them.”

  “What kind of impulses?”

  “Sometimes I have the desire to do terrible things.”

  “You are becoming a man, it is natural.”

  “But what I think about isn’t natural.’

  “What do you think about?”

  “I think about killing my father, I think about running away.”

  “You are imbued with power, you have become a vessel, we need to find a proper outlet for it. Your family is so vital to our community, they have been with me from the beginning, perhaps I neglected that you could be more involved than you already are. I could use someone like you for a special task, a role even more vital than the one your family plays now, when the time comes.”

  “What kind of special role?”

  “Well, I would ask if you can keep a secret but we both know your whole life has been harboring secrets. This is something though, you can’t reveal to your mother or your father, I doubt they would disapprove, your importance to me would be magnified, though one might not think it will be possible.”

  “What is the secret?”

  “It will require training and it will require a settled mind. You will be under my tutelage. The trade-off is, while you are under Ezra’s roof, you must respect your father.”

  “I respect him, it’s like I told you, I just can’t control the impulses.”

  “In time, you will look to me as a second father, I hope. I will be your teacher.”

  “If that is what you want, I accept.”

  “Then let’s begin with lesson one.”

  CHAPTER SIX: THE DETECTIVE FALLS

  Snow is falling in large crystal flakes as Marshall walks home from the bar, he hears the crunch of snow beneath his feet, he takes his hat off and shakes the snow off of it as he looks up at the streetlight shining, he puts his hat back on his head and continues his solitary walk, the same walk he’s made countless times before, he hears a car approaching and thinks nothing of it until he hears it slow down for a moment, he turns to look at the car, he places his hand on his gun in its holster, he flips the safety off, he sees the white teeth of the passenger of the car, clad in a black suit and white dress shirt with black tie, the car is a black Cadillac, Marshall sees the muzzle flash but he doesn’t feel the bullet enter his abdomen at first, he draws his gun and fires a shot that hits the passenger door of the car, the pain settles in and shakes his nerves, the muzzle flashes again and he hears the crack of the gunshot like it is opening the sky, he falls back onto the snow, his hat flies off with the second shot, Marshall sees the dark, crimson stain growing on his shirt, he tries to lift his gun again but the third muzzle flash takes his strength away. As the car pulls away, he sees the license plate on the black Cadillac, Missouri plates IXT-74J, he mutters the plate number to himself, knowing that he may black out, he calls 911 and tells the operator that he’s been shot, he gives her 86th and Wornall, then he begins to see black spots, he keeps his hand pressed on his abdomen, trying to hold himself together, the pain on the side of his head swells as his shoulder and his gut burn, he drops the phone and holds his hand up to his head, he sees the blood on his hand, he tries to look at his shoulder where the third shot went in but his body becomes awash with a numbness, he looks at his left shoulder and sees the blood pooling on his shirt, he closes his eyes for a moment, when he opens them he sees Gina under the streetlight, she extends her hand to him, he reaches out with his right arm, his right hand is completely covered in blood from his abdomen, she is standing in her nightgown, the same way she was dressed when she died, in his mind he considers it a fitting death to die alone on the streets he had tried to protect for so long, he thought that he may see her again, he wondered if he was dead all ready.

  The next thing that he remembered, he was strapped to a gurney inside of the ambulance, they cut his clothes off. “Keep pressure on those wounds,” he heard one of the paramedics yell as he looked up at the ceiling of the ambulance. Marshall muttered the license plate number again; he knew that he was not dead. The ride seemed quick, at the hospital he was wheeled along, a voice cried out, “Gunshot victim, one to the gut, one to the shoulder, grazed in the head, he’s losing blood fast,” the lights blinded him. He wondered if the nurses surrounding him were figurative casket bearers, he didn’t want to die on an operating table, dying in the street was acceptable, but in a white room with a doctor’s hands and scalpel inside of him, that wasn’t how he wanted to go. He was out again and when he regained consciousness, he was in a recovery room with his stomach, shoulder, and head wrapped extensively, his left arm was in a sling to immobilize his shoulder. He watches the IV drip, he places his hand to the wrap on his head to make sure it is all real. He looks at the bare table with a small vase of flowers on it, he sees Gina sitting in the chair.

  “When I saw you earlier by the streetlight, I thought you were coming for me,” Marshall tells her.

  “No one sent me; I came because I knew you were in trouble.”

  “Was I supposed to die?”

  “I can’t answer that. You are still here and that should be all the answer you require.”

  “It would have been an acceptable death.”

  “You still have much to do. Though you may not fear death, it is not healthy to welcome it.”

  “If it means I will see you again, you can’t fault me for it.”

  “You see me now.”

  “But it’s not really you; it’s all in my head. Either that or you are a ghost and I don’t believe in such things.”

  “What you believe in will be called into question.”

  “By the man in brown?”

  “Your pursuit of him will be a difficult journey fraught with peril. He means not just to test you physically, but mentally and spiritually as well.”

  “Carmen tested me and I failed, I broke one of the only rules that I have and I let him get to you.”

  “Failure is the only way that we learn.”

  “I always thought experience was the better teacher.”

  “A man who has not failed is a man who has never risked anything.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “You will need allies on your journey. Remember, we are all connected.”

  “If you were with me, we could catch him quickly.”

  “The skillset that I had will be of no use in the pursuit of the man in brown. He shuns technology, and preaches the same to his followers. A man like that leaves no digital footprint. You have the tools you need to catch him, his ego will make him vulnerable, but if it is a battle of intellects that he wants, you will have the upper ha
nd. He is very bright but his overconfidence makes him vulnerable. When all seems lost, just remember, you’ll have to rely on your friends.”

  “Right now, friends are hard to come by.”

  “Those painkillers they have you on must be pretty powerful,” Chester says as he stands in the doorway, his imposing figure nearly fills up the whole doorframe.

  “Morphine can get a man through anything.”

  “Who were you talking to a second ago?”

  “I’m a little out of it.”

  “It will be all right. I’ve been shot before; I’ve been in your position. Any idea who did it?”

  “If I made a list of the people who wanted me dead, I’d have to do it on a scroll. But I saw his face and I got their plates.”

  “Where’d they get you?”

  “The gut, the shoulder, and the head though the headshot was just a flesh wound, I think.”

  “It’s almost like they wanted you to go slow and painful but then they changed their mind.”

  “Shooting at the person trying to kill you can have that effect.”

  “So what do you feel right now?”

  “I feel rage.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “How’s your mom doing?”

  “Not so well. She’s decided to stop chemo.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s a mixed bag; the chemo was making her miserable. She forgets simple things; she’s lost so much weight. She doesn’t have the appetite to eat. It’s almost like she’s not the same person anymore. Stopping the chemo will improve her quality of life but I know it means that her time will be up soon. I want her to keep fighting, but I can’t ask her to do that. I have to respect her decision.”

  “If you get the choice on how to go out, it’s important to do it on your own terms.”

  “On one hand the chemo is killing her but on the other it’s also prolonging her life. But, in the end, it’s only delaying the inevitable. There’s something I never understand,” Chester says.

  “What’s that?”