by Ron Ripley
She was no longer considered half a person. No one she worked with thought she did less, or was treated special.
Where she went, others truly feared to tread.
A tap on her right shoulder got her attention and Linda turned to face one of the twins. She didn’t know if it was Jenna or Gabby, but it didn’t matter. The twin held up a whiteboard with the question, Are you ready?
Linda checked the straps on her harness and nodded.
The twins had secured her in a five-point harness, with the catch/release at the back instead of on her chest. She was connected to a tether of high-tensile rope, which would play out from a massive reel in the back of a box truck. Linda motioned to her head and the twin nodded, her mouth moving.
The other twin appeared and checked the camera on Linda’s helmet. Whatever she saw would be fed back to a monitor in the back of the truck, and a second one in the main office in Boston.
If the image went dead, or she started to act in a way they didn’t like, the twins would rescue her. Three men had also accompanied them, and they would help the twins reel Linda back in should it be necessary.
They didn’t treat her differently.
They treated Linda with respect.
She confronted dangers none of them could. And while the danger to her was lessened, it was by no means absent.
As the harness attested.
The twin picked up the whiteboard and replaced the first question with a second.
Now?
Linda nodded.
The twin gave her a thumbs up, and stepped out of the way.
Linda moved forward.
She had on thick hiking boots that helped her keep a steady pace on the narrow trail. In addition to that she wore a padded, one piece suit. On more than one occasion, the Watchers had been forced to drag her out of a house or a building, and her injuries had been extensive. Now, in spite of the warmth of the day, Linda was fully protected.
Well, she thought as she continued forward. As much as I can be.
Linda followed the path. She knew that there was a ghost somewhere ahead of her. Another investigator for the Watchers had vanished a week before, and there was a rumor in the organization that this ghost might be the One.
A shiver of excitement raced through her as she considered it.
Immortality, or close to it. The ability to outlive all of those who had made her suffer.
She smiled at the idea and quickened her steps.
Linda paid careful attention to her surroundings as she went. The farther she traveled, the more focused she became. Soon she passed from the forest and into a glade, and then she found herself beneath the boughs of a tremendous tree.
The smell of rotting flesh struck her, causing her head to jerk back and to stagger to a stop.
It was then that she noticed the old, colonial cemetery, the house beneath the tree, and the death around the house.
A quick scan of those in front of the house churned Linda’s stomach.
She counted five people. Two men, one woman, and two others who were so close to death she couldn’t tell what gender they were. All sat on the ground, staring at a young boy who sat on a stone beside the open doorway. Two more lay on the earth and Linda knew they were dead, and that it was the odor of their putrefying flesh filling the air.
The boy turned and looked at her, and Linda knew he was dead. His clothes and his sickening grin spoke to her, telling her that he had died a long time in the past, and that he reveled in the death around him.
His mouth moved and he gestured warmly to her.
When she didn’t respond, the grin on his face faltered.
His lips moved again, and his hand beckoned to her.
Even without being able to hear him, she felt a tug in her stomach. An instinctual urge to go and sit beside the others. To look upon the boy and to converse with him, regardless of her inability to do so.
The boy spoke a third time and any hint of amiable intentions vanished when she didn’t respond.
He stood up, his face twisting and contorting. She watched as he stomped forward, up to the edge of the graveyard. He came to a stop and opened his mouth wide. From within him, something dark and hideous exploded out.
Even as Linda twisted away she felt the harness tighten for a split second, and then she was yanked backward.
The dark mass chased after her, twisting along the path at a speed she didn’t think was possible. As it neared her, Linda felt a wave of uncontrollable fear rip through her.
She squeezed her eyes against the darkness and howled when it caught hold of her foot.
Chapter 20: Getting His Hands Dirty
David recognized the man at once.
Elliot, David thought, an angry, cold feeling filling his gut.
While the man had only been with the organization for a short time, and was nothing more than a low-level scout, David wasn’t pleased to see him. It didn’t matter that Elliot only knew the basics of the organization. Elliot’s job was to find new houses that might be haunted. Chat up the neighbors. Nothing too serious, just the basic legwork.
The man’s arrival on Berkley Street would be due to one of two reasons. First and simplest would be the man was doing nothing more than his job. Replying to a request from someone higher up to investigate Berkley.
The other possibility was that the Watchers had decided to keep tabs on Shane and Frank, and that meant that Elliot was a danger to David.
If the Watchers knew David was alive, they would make it a point to take him alive.
At a little past two in the afternoon, David had been parked in a beaten up Chevy sedan, two blocks down from Shane and Frank’s place. He had arrived, prepared to deliver the alpha file and the email footage to the men when Elliot had pulled in front of him.
David had watched as the man bumped the curb with the car’s tire. Then, with a loud grinding of gears, the man had slammed it into park and proceeded to watch Shane’s house.
Elliot never bothered to look behind him, or to check his mirrors. Instead, he seemed focused on a cigar and rolling all of the windows of his large SUV down.
When David was certain that Elliot was focused on Shane and Frank and not there for some other reason, he got out of the Chevy. He closed the door but didn’t latch it. For a moment, he stood still, waiting to see if Elliot would notice the movement behind him.
He didn’t.
Large clouds of cigar smoke rolled out of the driver’s side window as David approached the vehicle. He could hear Elliot humming, and it was then David noticed the man had headphones on.
For a moment, David paused, unable to comprehend the level of stupidity he was seeing. Then, with a shake of his head, David walked up, reached through the open window of the driver’s side rear door, and let himself into the car.
“What the hell?!” Elliot demanded, half-turning in his seat.
What he saw wasn’t David so much as it was David’s pistol.
Granted, it was only a thirty-eight revolver, but it was enough to keep Elliot’s attention focused on. The man couldn’t look away from the opening of the barrel.
“I have money,” Elliot said, not taking his eyes off the weapon.
“I don’t want your money,” David replied. “Turn around and drive.”
“You can have the car,” Elliot stammered, frozen in place.
“Turn around and drive,” David repeated. “Or I’m going to neuter you.”
Elliot turned around and tried to start the car.
The engine sputtered and refused to run.
Swearing, Elliot tried it again, and the vehicle roared to life.
“You’re going to drive now,” David said, “and I’m going to ask questions. You need to answer each question truthfully. Do you understand?”
Elliot nodded.
“Good,” David said. “Start driving.”
“To where?” Elliot asked, his voice trembling.
“I don’t care,” David said, lowering the pist
ol and pressing the barrel into the back of the driver’s seat.
Elliot shifted into gear and eased off down the road, passing by Shane and Frank’s place.
In the rearview mirror, David saw Elliot’s eyes flicker toward Shane’s house.
David’s shoulders sagged.
“Why are you here?” David asked.
“I’m looking for properties in the area,” Elliot replied, regaining some of his composure. “I was trying to find a place for me and the wife.”
“You don’t have a wedding ring,” David retorted.
“Oh,” Elliot said, flustered. He turned left, then left again.
David saw the sign for a dead end and said nothing about it.
“Say,” Elliot said, “why don’t I let you out here and we call it quits, okay? No hard feelings. Figure you’re with some neighborhood watch group, right?”
“You could say that,” David said. “But you’d be wrong.”
When Elliot’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror, David pressed the barrel of the pistol deep into the back of the seat and pulled the trigger.
Elliot tried to twist himself out of the way but it was too late.
There was no place for him to go.
The blast of the weapon was muffled by the foam and cloth of the seat. Elliot grunted as the bullet passed through the material, and then cut its way through his organs. It shredded his innards as it ricocheted off of ribs. The man slumped over the wheel, his foot slipping off the gas pedal and causing the standard to stall out.
The vehicle rolled forward for a few more feet before it bumped into a thick pine tree and came to a sharp stop. David put his pistol away, glanced around the back seat, and saw a clump of napkins from a Dunkin Donuts. He picked them up and used the rough paper to scrub at the door latch, the only part of the car he had touched.
From the front seat came the familiar rattle of death from Elliot’s lungs. David knew from experience that Elliot would bleed out soon enough. There was no need for a second bullet, as merciful as one might be.
Another shot wouldn’t be silenced as the first.
David held onto the cleaned latch with a napkin and let himself out.
There would be trace evidence on the back seat and elsewhere, but it would be minimal, and not nearly as damning as fingerprints and the pistol itself.
David sighed and shook his head.
He would have to get rid of the weapon, scrub his hands with a caustic solution to get the residue off and destroy his clothes.
He walked away from the vehicle, his hands in his pockets as he thought, Homicides are never easy.
Behind him, Elliot breathed his last, a harsh, guttural noise that caused David to give a nod of satisfaction.
Yet with the satisfaction came a sense of worry.
If the organization is sending people like Elliot out to keep tabs on Shane and Frank, David wondered, where are the others? Where are those damned twins, Gabby and Jenna?
The idea that something was commanding the attention of the Watchers’ killers caused an uncomfortable sensation to settle in the pit of David’s stomach.
He glanced at Elliot and shook his head. Clair was planning something, and David suspected it would be worse than anything Harlan had dreamed up.
Chapter 21: A Problem Arises
Clair had watched the interaction between Linda and the One when it was streamed live to her office. She had watched it perhaps forty more times since then, and she had sent it out to several others for their take on the situation.
No one had replied, and she found herself frustrated but not surprised by their failure to respond.
Clair had been surprised at the number of people around the One. Granted, they were close to death, but the fact that they were there was disconcerting.
She had spent several days researching current events in Amherst, New Hampshire.
There had been little to go on at first.
A missing persons report concerning a new mother. Rousseau was there. Clair had seen his body. Then there had been the possibility of a runaway. From the next town over, an elderly man had vanished on his walk. The same for a younger man who had broken down on the side of the road in a town called Milford.
Lacking any sort of intelligence assets in the southern New Hampshire police forces after Harlan’s debacle, Clair had been forced to outsource the job. She had dipped into the Deep Net, found a hacker who was reasonably bored and in need of funds, and had the anonymous individual retrieve the information she needed.
With a map of the area around the One laid out before her, Clair had been able to pick out a pattern. Combined with what she had witnessed on the video, she knew the One was strong and getting stronger. Despite the havoc Shane and Frank had recently wreaked.
What disturbed her the most was the black shape which had exploded out of the One’s mouth. It was as though there was some tremendous darkness within the One, as if even the semblance of his former body was too small to contain it.
Clair leaned back in her chair and looked at the map of Amherst and the surrounding towns.
The first pin in the map represented the new mother, a woman known to be an avid hiker. Clair could only assume that the woman had come upon the One by accident and paid the price. The dead boy’s strength had only been increased by a small margin by the new mother.
Then Clair had sent in Rousseau, and that seemed to have bolstered the One even further. The possible runaway was a male teenager who lived a quarter of a mile from the One and was reported to have been a disciplinary issue at both home and school. Clair’s hacker had said the police were looking in Nashua and Manchester, but not Amherst.
Three tenths of a mile from the teenager’s home was the spot from where the next victim vanished. The old man was known to walk along Dell Road as part of his morning routine. He had left, a neighbor said, at his usual time of seven thirty, and never returned.
The last person to disappear had done so only two days ago, and he was a further half-mile away from the One. Someone had witnessed the young man on the side of the road, trying to change a flat tire.
Clair looked away from the map and back to her computer screen. The video of the interaction with the One was paused. His mouth was open and the dark creature had just emerged.
Clair had to find a way to speak with the One. To facilitate a conversation where they could feed him, and thus gain access to what was theirs by right of patient devotion.
She would need a sacrifice. Someone from within the organization and who was faithful. Clair could send Linda along with them so that they could see the One’s reaction.
The woman was in poor condition, but Clair knew Linda would do it. She was dedicated. A true believer.
And Clair only needed one more to go with her.
She sat in silence for several moments, and then it came to her. A smile spread across her face and she leaned forward, pressing the intercom button.
“Shirley,” Clair said.
“Yes, Ma’am?” Shirley replied.
“Could you come in here, please? I need to speak with you about something,” Clair stated.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Shirley said.
Taking her finger away, Clair relaxed into her chair.
Shirley Coleman was perfect. She had served several heads of the Watchers, and with a focus and determination that Clair found impressive. But should Shirley die at the hands of the One, well it was for the greater good.
And besides, Clair thought as the door to her office opened. I can always get another secretary.
Chapter 22: Questions without Answers
“What will you do?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“That’s not an answer,” she said into the darkness.
Shane sighed. “I know.”
“Are you going to continue to destroy their houses, one at a time?” Courtney asked.
“I don’t know,” Shane said. And he didn’t.
The alpha file, despite i
ts impressive name, had yielded little evidence and even less information concerning the Watchers’ endgame in regards to the One. What it did contain was an extremely comprehensive list of properties seeded, ghosts cultivated, and a list of newly discovered hauntings. For disruption purposes, the alpha file was a gold mine. There had been no extra security in the file, no self-destruct program that would have destroyed or corrupted the information.
Massive amounts of information had been there for the taking.
There was also a recent batch of files indicating heavy activity in Amherst. David had a vague recollection of investigating the disappearance of a girl there back in the mid seventies but nothing more.
It was the lack of information on the One that concerned Shane. He shook his head, ground his teeth in frustration and tried to keep his anger to himself. Amherst, Shane had discovered, was big and filled with a lot of woods. That meant roughly thirty-five square miles, and almost twenty three thousand acres to search.
In the downtime between raids on the Watchers’ holdings, he had tried to find some information, any information about Samson and the family in Amherst. To try and see what they might be up against.
But there was nothing.
It was as though someone had stricken all information about it from the various histories.
“Shane,” Courtney said, interrupting his musing.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Do you have to do this?” she asked in a low voice.
Shane twisted in his chair, looking towards the oubliette in the library’s corner. “Stop them?”
“Stop them by going there,” Courtney said. “I have listened to your description of it. I have even spoken with Frank. It, well, it doesn’t sound good. Can’t there be someone else who does it?”
Shane hesitated before he answered her. He couldn’t tell her how depressed he had become. How worthless he felt. There was so little left for him.
Courtney was dead.
Mason was dead.
Frank and Marie had been injured, Marie severely.
It seemed as if everyone who was close to him suffered for him, or because of him. His decisions had killed Courtney. His friendship with Mason had caused the man’s death. The guilt weighed upon him, pressed down upon his heart, and threatened to overwhelm him.