“Let it go.”
He turned to see Donald standing beside him.
“Yes, I know, but maybe I could have stopped it.”
“Maybe, but Jake Turner is strong and very dangerous, very much an enemy. Sometimes even ‘we’ cannot stop the inevitable; we can only hope and wait.”
“Yes, but an innocent man had to die?”
“Each one of us has a plan, Travis. The path we take cannot be changed. But,” pausing, “He’s not through yet, you know.”
“Don’t you think he’s done enough?”
Understanding the anguish Donald answered, “We’ve already explained that we want you to take care of Jake, and we have faith in you. You volunteered for the mission, but if you need our help, seek us out.”
Cautioning, “Don’t lose your resolve though. He’ll grow weaker the longer he stays here on earth. It’s your responsibility to deal with him before he hurts Logan, or maybe Karen or Harry.”
“Yeah and how do I do that?”
No one answered.
* * * * *
Driving into town, Tom and Logan saw the flashing red lights from a distance. Curiosity turned to apprehension as they approached the gas station. Whatever it was, it was happening there-at Carl’s. As they drove into the parking lot next door, they saw a sheet-covered body being carried out on a stretcher.
Turning off the ignition, opening the door, and jumping out before Logan could unfasten her seat belt, Tom ran up to someone in the crowd.
“What happened, Jim?”
An elderly man stood there, leaning on his cane, head down.
He looked up, a flicker of recognition coming into his eyes, “Oh, it was horrible, Doc! Dave Arnold found him when he stopped to buy gas. Somethin’ musta’ been wrong with the lift. He…”
Confused, Tom interrupted, “Whoa! Slow down. You mean Carl? Tell me what happened.”
“He was workin’ on a car and the lift came down…crushed him to death,” nodding solemnly.
Staring at Jim, realization hit and he winced in pain.
“Tom?” Logan had come up beside him and grabbed his hand. A sickening feeling began to permeate throughout her body.
“It’s Carl.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath but went on to explain, “There was an accident and he’s dead.”
Gasping, her hand flew up to her mouth, “Oh my God!” She grabbed him around the waist, burying her head in his chest.
Feeling the grief of losing a dear friend, he clung to her, tears glistening in his eyes.
Carl had been a good friend. Sure, they teased each other a lot, but Carl was there for him when Jenny died. He’d never forget all the times he came out to the house, always bringing a casserole his wife Theresa had prepared.
His brain now registering the full impact of the tragedy, he bent down to whisper in her ear, “Let me go check and see if there is anything I can do. You wait here.”
He gently pried her arms loose and walked towards the garage.
Steve Helton, the police chief, grabbed him. “Not a pretty sight, Doc. Paramedics are finishing up. I called for the coroner. He’s on his way. Not much you can do for Carl now ‘cept pray. Ned’s on his way over to tell Theresa.”
Tom glanced in the bay area and saw several police officers from Nineveh and Edinburgh surrounding the car. When they saw him, the slight shift in their movements left everything more visible. He surveyed the scene, noting that coagulated blood covered the floor leading to the drain.
Hearing a door slam, his attention was drawn to the sound. He noticed some of the policemen were inspecting the car.
My God! That’s Logan’s car! Carl had been working on her car! How could he tell her!
“Awful, isn’t it?” Larry Burnham commented. He was one of the officers checking the car.
No response.
“Yeah, I guess he was working on this car and the lift fell on him. The strangest thing though, we tested the switch and it works fine.” Larry just stood there shaking his head. “Can’t understand why it dropped.”
Tom couldn’t bring himself to say anything, just stood motionless.
Finally, Larry turned his attention back to the investigation.
Whirling around at the sound of footsteps, Tom saw Logan approaching the garage. Not wanting her to see inside yet, he ran out to meet her.
She reached out and hugged him, quietly comforting, patiently silent.
* * * * *
Harry sat slumped over the steering wheel in his car. The sun was going down and shades of pink and burnt orange streaked across the sky. Ordinarily such a beautiful sunset would catch his eye, but this evening was different. Looking over, he saw the last police car pull away from the service station.
He slammed his hand hard against the steering wheel, not feeling the pain, only frustration. Goddamn it! He killed that man. I know he did!
Harry had arrived back at the station shortly after Logan and Tom. Parking his car across the street and down the block so as not to raise any suspicions, he sat there for hours watching the hideous drama unfold.
He felt helpless, knowing he couldn’t call out now and let them know whom he was and why he was here.
To think that an innocent person had to die! And, they’re in grave danger as well!
Minutes ago the hearse left with Carl’s body. The crowd of onlookers had started to dwindle right after Tom and Logan arrived, with the last stragglers leaving about an hour ago.
A while back someone brought Carl’s wife to the station. At least Harry presumed it was his wife; she sobbed uncontrollably while holding onto one of the policemen.
The man looked uncomfortable but quietly let her cry, leading her to back to his squad car where she sat in the front seat, tears streaming down her face. Finally, the policeman drove her away…probably to the funeral home.
Luckily, Tom and Logan missed that part. They left shortly after the crowd dispersed, and as they passed his car, Harry averted his face so they wouldn’t recognize him, in case they HAD seen him earlier in the day on the hiking trail.
He was still struggling with how to approach them. If either one of them had seen him earlier, he might have had a hard time explaining what he was doing here…besides, it definitely was not a good time for introductions.
So, for the last half hour, he sat in the car, trying to formulate a plan on how to deal with Jake Turner. Nothing came to mind. Feeling numb and knowing the tragedies of the last few weeks were taking a toll on him, he had a growing sense of ineptitude and futility. In fact, he had never felt so incompetent.
The glare from the setting sun brought him back to reality. He knew that he needed more time to think. Plus, he hadn’t eaten all day…what he really wanted was to find the motel, get a room, and try to eat something…just take it one step at a time.
He turned on the ignition, slowly pulled away from the curb, and drove down the street and around the corner.
Travis watched as he pulled away. He shared Harry’s distrust of Jake Turner. Committing suicide while in a drug-induced state had caused Jake to retain some of the mental imbalance brought on by the cocaine. He’s dangerous, very unstable and this won’t be easy, Travis realized.
Add to that, Harry is not in the best health. He’s been weak since the heart attack.
Can he withstand the fury Jake might unleash? All it would take would be one more heart attack…No, can’t think about that….
He knew he needed more help, or Harry would be the next victim. Remembering what Donald told him, Travis decided to make a quick trip to Borderland to seek guidance and assistance from the spirit saviors. He hoped they would alleviate some of the self-doubt. He also hoped that Jake would leave Logan and Harry alone.
Jake had other plans, however. His intention was to go after both of them…tonight.
* * * * *
“You okay?” Tom looked across the seat at Logan. She had ridden the distance from the gas station to her cabin in silence.
She shook her head up and down wordlessly but he could sense the uncertainty.
“Listen,” he continued, “Get a good night’s sleep and try to put it out of your mind.”
Logan began to cry. “It’s all my fault,” she said. “I’m responsible for Carl’s death. You see…” pausing...
He reached over and put his arm around her shoulder. “Why would you say that? You’ve done nothing wrong. Carl had a terrible accident while working on your car. It wasn’t your fault. The lift just malfunctioned.”
She looked over at him with terror in her eyes. “He was working on my car?”
God, how stupid of me!
“I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t mean to tell you but I thought you knew.”
He tightened his hold on her just as she grabbed for the door handle, making soft, hiccupping noises while flailing at the car door. He swung her around, facing him. “Stop!”
She stared at him with tears streaming down her face, finally collapsing in his arms, overcome with the emotions of the tragic day.
He held her close and gently kissed her hair, listening while her sobbing subsided and breathing returned to normal.
She looked up at him, deep pools of tears collecting in her eyes, and returned the kiss, fiercely, urgently, giving in to her emotions. Feeling the hunger in his kiss, she thought about telling him everything-about Jake, about the money he embezzled, about her guilt.
Pulling away, she opened her mouth but he said, “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I…I hate to leave but …I need to get back. Unfortunately, I have a late appointment tonight and I told the people I would stop by and check their foal. She’s been having some problems…”
He’s embarrassed, she thought. What an idiot he must think I am! After all, we only met yesterday. He’s being nice and I shouldn’t read anything into a kiss.
“Sure, I understand,” she said, trying to put on a brave front, adding, “Hey, thanks again for taking me hiking.”
Tom held her hand, those incredible green eyes staring at her for the longest time. “I’ll check on your car for you. I’m sorry I have to go…but listen,” hesitating, “would you like to come for dinner tomorrow, say around 4:00?”
Considering the request, she started to say ‘no’ but something held her back.
“I’d really like to show you my place…and, we can take a drive after we eat, cover some of the back roads before dark.”
Wavering, Logan opened the car door, gave him one last look, and thought, I like this guy, and I think he likes me. I’d be stupid not to take him up on his offer. I need time to think about what’s been going on and then I can tell him all about it tomorrow over dinner.
“Sure, sounds like fun.”
A smile lit up his face, “I’ll call you later with information on your car and directions to my house.”
She gave a wave as she ran towards the cabin.
The trauma of the horrific accident hit Tom as he sat in the car. He grieved over the loss of his friend, Carl.
A ‘good ol’ boy’, according to southern Indiana vernacular and a friend to everyone he met. He had a knack for cars and people from miles around depended on him to fix anything and everything. Now, he was gone.
He thought about Theresa, Carl’s wife. Their children were grown, living on their own, and the couple had been planning to sell the gas station, retire in a few years, and move to Florida. They already had a nice mobile home in Naples, and every winter for the last six years they spent time there, while Jim Eller, Carl’s longtime employee, ran the station. They planned to leave next month right before Thanksgiving, but now Theresa and the children would be planning a funeral instead. What a tragedy!
Memories flooded in and made him think about his own wife…sweet Jenny…how I know what Theresa is going through! It’s not fair but dwelling on it won’t bring them back!
And … turning to Logan…why did I let it drop about Carl working on her car? She paused and I thought she was going to tell me it was her car. I knew we would talk about it eventually, but not then…not when she was still reeling from what had happened in the park, not when she was just beginning to deal with the accident. I didn’t want her to think about it. And then I had to open my big mouth!
But there seemed to be something else bothering her. Even Betty noticed it at breakfast. Could it have been something that happened to her even before she came on the trip? She acted like she wanted to tell me something, but stopped short. Why?
He pondered it, finally deciding she would in time.
After all, we only met yesterday. It’s natural to be cautious, and yet, he mused…the passion behind her kiss…
In time I hope she’ll open up, because my feelings for her are growing minute by minute…but I need to be patient…admitting as he drove away.
* * * * *
Logan watched from her parents’ bedroom as he left, trembling with a fear hard to disguise.
A ghost! I saw a ghost! It was Jake Turner and he talked to me! She shuddered involuntarily remembering the hideous sight.
And … he killed Carl. I know he did! Shouldn’t have had to die! He was just trying to do me a favor. How awful!
Breathing rapidly, her mouth twitching, it was supposed to be me…he blames me for his death and wants revenge!
She thought about how ridiculous it all sounded, and reasoned, there’s no such thing as ghosts.
But I saw him on the trail!
Eyes widened as a thought struck, was he the one responsible for her car acting up?
She fell back on the bed distraught, and eventually fell asleep, exhausted both physically and mentally.
* * * * *
Glaring at the sleeping form on the bed, Jake hated her with a passion, wanted to reach out and wrap his cold, clammy hands around her neck, paralyzing her with fright, shoving her face down into the soft mattress until she fought him for breath. He wanted her to experience the horror of being powerless against his strength. He yearned to look into her eyes at the very moment when she realized he planned to kill her.
No! Not murder! Suicide! Because if she kills herself, she’ll be banned forever to Hell, the plane in Borderland called the Dark Land. That’s where I’m going and she must go there too!
But, only his virulent hostility and the resolve to torture her for eternity prevented him from harming her while she slept. He twisted his hands into fists, let out a low growl, trying to rein in his anger.
Must be careful, he thought. Don’t want to alert her yet.
Unaware that animal instincts were slowly taking over the longer he remained on earth, short, choppy thoughts filled his feral brain. Not much time. Hate her. She dies.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A blur…a flash of light…a blink…in our everyday world we misinterpret these signals as slight disruptions of power or visual trickery. As Travis sped back toward Borderland, some humans might have sensed something if they were in close proximity, maybe a blip in the atmosphere, nothing else. Returning to the parallel world was his way of alerting the others to growing uneasiness about confronting Jake…and a lack of self-confidence about handling it alone.
When he died in a drug-induced state after years of cocaine abuse, Jake’s spirit maintained sufficient malevolent powers to wreak havoc on anyone who would intervene. In addition, he harbored the vilest abhorrence for Logan Massey. Sanity left his body long before his death. Destroyed by drugs, filled with immorality, now he threatened to end her life.
Even with Harry helping, Travis knew it was only a matter of time before his good friend’s life would be over as well. No, he needed spiritual help because this would not be easy. One person was already dead and how many more would have to lose their lives because of Jake Turner?
Once again Travis’ destination was Stonehenge, and even though humans were not there to witness it, several spirit saviors gathered to await his arrival.
Perhaps if someone had been present, he or she would have experienced ye
t another example of something so unique as to be scoffed at by practical minds, something to challenge sensibility and tantalize the psyche, something more of the spiritual realm than the mortal one.
As Donald, the leader of the spirit saviors, waited with the others, he was reminded of his last human incarnation.
In life he had been a gay man, good friend to men and women alike. In younger years he tried drugs, like most in his generation, and also experimented with unprotected sex. Feeling sick all the time, he went to see the doctor and was told he had AIDS. His first thought was to kill himself.
Fortunately, he confided in one of his friends who gave him the name of a wonderful Jesuit priest named Father Manghelli. ‘Father Man’, as he referred to himself, saved his life by making him believe again, telling him he was a good person, worthy of love and life.
In return, he volunteered for Hope Manor, a rehabilitation center for people with AIDS, founded by the Jesuit order.
The priest, in turn, encouraged Donald to tell his friends about his disease and count on those relationships to sustain him in the difficult times ahead.
He did that and was heartened by the love and support from most of his friends.
The few, who did not respond well to the news, distanced themselves.
He acknowledged the loss of their friendship but did not dwell on rejection.
Dying a few months later, with a serenity born from the knowledge that his life was not in vain, his friends gathered around him in celebration of life, not mourning for death.
Still missing him, they would be gratified to know he was in the final stages of completing his assignment with the spirit saviors before going on to a higher plane in Borderland. He smiled at the thought, feeling the comfort of knowing his destination and ultimate reward.
The light from the midnight moon cast an eerie glow on the Stonehenge megaliths. A slight ripple preceded Travis’ appearance, causing a swell of murmurings, a volume of voices, all agitated and troubled by the news that brought him back to them. “The demon called Jake will harm her. She is in danger. What will he do next?” Their voices spoke in unison, fervent but anguished.
Borderland Page 9