Darkest Night

by James Cherry

  The doctor had explained that the battery was dropped when the creature attacked, but the more likely scenario was that the doctor used the battery acid to burn himself in order to fake an encounter with Nessie.

  Marty knew that the doctor’s credibility with the scientific community had been destroyed years earlier due to the Bigfoot sighting and he knew that the doctor wanted nothing more than to gain that lost reputation back. Faking an injury in order to gain sympathy would be something that a desperate man might try. And the doctor was a desperate man. It was a bold plan worthy of the best criminal minds. It was also a stab in the back to the people who trusted the doctor.

  The fossil teeth that Marty had collected in Mexico were another matter. The small pointed objects would help prove the doctor for the fraud that he was. He removed the small bag that contained the fossilized raptor teeth from his pocket and stared at them intently.

  He never really believed that someone would actually use fossil teeth as an arrowhead, as it sounded too far-fetched. But he did know that in the ancient past, Native Americans would use fossilized sharks teeth to make arrowheads, why not dinosaur teeth? It was all he had to work with, and when he had found a man who actually made arrows from fossil dinosaur teeth, it was a huge surprise. He had been grasping for straws when he came up with that theory, never believing it would pan out.

  But even if no one shot the cow with an arrow tipped with a fossil tooth, there was the fact that the doctor had raced to reach the downed cow before anyone else. The doctor could have placed a fossil tooth into the wound cavity himself. Due to the abundance of fossil teeth in the area, it was highly probable that the doctor could have acquired one for the hoax.

  At first he had wanted to confront Doctor Burch with his evidence but had kept it to himself. He had needed more, something definitive, so he waited patiently in order to collect more evidence in order to discredit the doctor. To reveal the doctor for the quack he was.

  Marty knew the motive but wondered why go through such lengths? Why not just go back to real research and regain respect that way?

  A sudden thought came to him. What if the doctor was mentally ill?

  Paranoid Schizophrenia seemed a likely candidate.

  He strolled into his study, sat down behind the desktop computer, and began his research on the Internet by typing schizophrenia into a search engine. He quickly found a medical web page and zeroed in on the mental illness. The explanation was exactly what he was looking for.

  Paranoid Schizophrenia (SKITS-oh-FREEN-ee-uh) is one of the most damaging of mental disorders and the most common form of schizophrenia. Victims lose touch with reality suffering from hallucinations of the auditory and perceptual variety. In many instances the victim will hear voices criticizing or telling the patient to hurt themselves. They often become convinced of things that simply aren't true. They develop delusions of persecution or personal grandeur.

  He stared at the definition, suddenly understanding everything. The doctor was showing all the signs in varying degrees.

  He was obviously seeing monsters that didn’t exist such as Bigfoot, chupacabras, and now Nessie. And delusion was an understatement. The doctor believed in many things that were not true. His whole cryptozoology fiasco was all based around delusional creatures. Monsters, myths, dragons, fairies, magic, and undead, you name it, he believed in it.

  And he was willing to hurt himself.

  Marty blinked in comprehension. After reading about the mental disorder, he knew that the doctor was fully able to hurt himself in order to make others believe. It was possible that on the chupacabra expedition the doctor had faked the thermal and radar data, planted the tooth in the cow’s neck, and placed the footprint on the ground.

  He realized that the doctor could have done all of this beforehand when he went out with Bo to check the terminals the day before their sighting. Bo had already been diagnosed with a similar mental illness by the military, so it was conceivable that the two of them had conspired together in order to create a hoax.

  Everything had been a hoax and knew what he had to do.

  Chapter 11

  The doctor rocked back and forth in his chair as tears trickled down his face, leaving moist lines of sorrow trailing from his eyes to his chin. His mind was in a dark place, a bottomless pit of despair and gloom. Not only had storm clouds gathered above his head, but lightning had struck, not just once, but repeatedly. He was a broken man.

  It took a moment for the knock at the door to register in his mind, and he slowly stood and shuffled to the door. Opening the door, he was taken aback at the sight before him.

  A gentleman in a black suit, flanked by a pair of soldiers in digital camouflage, stood on his front porch. The first thought that flittered through his mind was that they were looking for Bo.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” barked the doctor in disdain.

  The man in black held out his hand and said, “Sir, I am Special Agent John Smith with the NSA. We received information that you are studying flying creatures. We would like for you to come with us to discuss what you have learned about them so far." The agent looked over Doctor Burch, his gaze pausing at the ghastly acid burns on his arms and face.

  Without accepting the man’s hand, the doctor replied, “Why is the government interested in my research?”

  The agent asked again in a pleasant tone, “Would you mind coming with us sir? We have some information about the flying creatures that you will find most interesting, and we need your professional input."

  His interest suddenly peaked, the doctor replied, “Sure, I will come along.” He was thoroughly intrigued now, all thoughts of doom and despair rushing from his mind as curiosity took over.

  “May I change first?” asked the doctor as he suddenly realized that he was wearing boxer briefs and nothing else.

  ***

  The trip took several hours, and anticipation was eating away at the doctor. He had learned nothing from the agent or the soldiers, as none of his traveling companions seemed to actually know anything. After a couple of hours, he had finally given up his attempts to milk information and just sat back, lost in thought.

  The doctor had no idea where he was as the trip had taken them out of the city and deep into the countryside. He wasn’t even sure they were still in Wisconsin.

  As they finally pulled up to their destination, the doctor got the sudden impression that he was being taken into a prison. The facility was unmarked with no signs of any kind to announce their location. A tall chain link fence topped with razor wire surrounded the area and plain clothed armed guards carrying semi-automatic rifles stood watch at the gatehouse, which overlooked an enormous wrought iron gate. The facility was imposing, frightening, and puzzling to the doctor.

  After a thorough identification check and search of the vehicle, they passed through the checkpoint and continued down a short road and parked in front of a large building. They entered the facility and walked down a long hallway, the agent stopping at one point to confer with a white clad woman. The woman nodded to the agent and handed Doctor Burch a clipboard full of paperwork and they continued following the twisting hallways until they reached an office. Once there, the agent had the doctor sit on a hard plastic chair just outside the office and fill out the paperwork.

  The doctor quickly completed the documents as most of it seemed to be standard pre-admittance for a hospital, which puzzled him. He moved on to a two page test with questions so strange that they were to the point of being silly. But he answered to the best of his ability and once completed he sat back and waited patiently.

  A man clad in a blue Army dress suit emerged from the office some half-hour later, and waved for Doctor Burch to enter. The doctor was motioned to sit in a hard wooden chair in front of a sparse metal desk while the man moved around to the back side and sat down in comfortable leather covered executive chair.

  The man introduced himself, “I am Major Jones, the facility psychiatrist.”


  Doctor Burch frowned in puzzlement. Why was he being interviewed by a military psychiatrist?

  Without wasting any time, the major began the interview. The questions were strange, sometimes comical, and the doctor struggled to answer without laughing. However, as the minutes dragged by, the questions became harder and more serious and personal in nature.

  "So, you saw a large flying creature at Loch Ness and it spit acid on you?" asked the major evenly.

  "Yes, why?" answered Doctor Burch.

  "So, why were you at Loch Ness anyway?" quizzed the major.

  "We were attempting to validate the existence of Nessie. There were some renewed sightings so we were there to gather information,” replied the doctor.

  The major nodded and asked, "So, do you believe that someone is out to get you?"

  "No," answered the doctor, a little too quickly.

  The major paused and arch an eyebrow at the response, he continued, "Do you ever see or hear things?"

  "Nope."

  "What about your encounter with bigfoot that caused you to lose your job as a professor?"

  "I did not lose my job with the University, I quit,” growled the doctor. He was beginning to get angry at the direction the questioning was taking.

  "Noted. Now, are you feeling the need to hurt yourself or others?" asked the agent as he looked Doctor Burch directly in the eyes.

  The stare made the doctor uncomfortable and he looked away. He answered, "No, never."

  "Do you hear voices?"

  The doctor shot the major a glance. "No, absolutely not," replied the doctor, a little too forcibly. His blood boiled in anger and shouted, “Just what the hell is going on here? Why all of the psyche questions?”

  A sudden dread washed over the doctor as he began to put the pieces together. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being committed to a mental institution, and that Marty was somehow involved.

  The major seemed to note the anger and furiously scribbled on a pad of paper. He finally paused to ask another question. "Do you believe that flying monsters exist?"

  Doctor Burch answered in a low growl, "I do believe that some kind of flying creature does exist. Some undiscovered species. The evidence I have collected to date supports my theory."

  The major looked up quickly and asked, "What evidence?"

  "A tooth, plaster cast of a large talon print, two thermal imaging films of a flying creature, casts of bite marks, and lots of circumstantial evidence," answered the doctor.

  "You have this evidence?" asked the major.

  "Yes, I just said I did," retorted the doctor.

  "Have you shown anyone else save your team?" asked the major with too much interest.

  Doctor Burch narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Alarm bells rang in the back of the doctor's mind and he asked, "Who do you really work for?"

  The major ignored his question, and asked again, "Have you shown this evidence to anyone else besides your team?"

  "Yes, Doctor Ayako Masuda sent copies of the plaster casts to numerous scientists around the world. We also sent reproductions of the tooth we extracted out to various experts for identification."

  “I need you to give me a list of names of all the scientists that has received this information.”

  “I will not give you the list unless you tell me what is going on. I was also promised information about the flying creatures in return for my help and that is the only reason I came. So what information do you have for me?”

  The major clenched his jaw and looked up at the ceiling. He finally replied, “I have no information about the creatures, I was told to give you a psyche test and to find out more about your research.” He dropped his head to stare into the doctor’s eyes and said coldly, “And if you don’t give me the list, I will have you put away for a long, long time.”

  “You can’t have me put away. In case you have forgotten, here in the United States we have a thing called rights. I demand my lawyer,” shouted Doctor Burch as he stood from his chair.

  The major sighed and replied, “You are not being charged with anything, at least not now, so there is no need for a lawyer. Besides, this is a matter of National Security and due process does not necessarily apply. Ever since September 11, we as Americans gave up some of our freedom in exchange for safety.” He indicated for the door with a wave of his hand and said, “Now, please step out of the room while I confer with my colleague.”

  The doctor shook his head and replied, “I am not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on."

  The major stared at the doctor for a moment and then forcibly pointed to the door. In response, the doctor sat back down and crossed his arms in defiance.

  The major sighed and said, “Okay, you give me no choice, I will have to call the MP’s.”

  Doctor Burch leaned forward and slammed a fist down upon the major’s desk. “Fine,” he shouted as he stood. He knew he had pushed the major as far as he could, so he turned and stalked unceremoniously out of the office. Slamming the door behind him he paused for half a heartbeat, and then pressed his ear firmly against the door, hoping to hear what was said inside.

  He heard the major place a phone call, but he couldn't make out much of the conversation as the man’s voice was muted and distorted through the thick wooden door. But he did manage to catch a name, a name he had heard before. General Crowell.

  It wasn’t long before he heard the shuffling of feet, and the doctor quietly moved from the door. The major emerged from his office and without a word, led the doctor to another room. The room was painted a bright white and contained no furniture save one chair in the center of the room.

  Having no other choice, the doctor sat in the chair and waited patiently for whatever was going to happen. To his surprise, instead of a couple muscle bound goons entering the room, a young female officer appeared instead.

  She held a paper up in front of the doctor and asked, “Sir, is this the list of scientists that received copies of the evidence?”

  Doctor Burch frowned at the sight of the names. He replied, “How did you get that?”

  The young woman said, “That’s not important. I only need you to verify the names on the list.”

  The doctor shook his head and lied, “No, that is the Christmas party list.” He scanned the page and spotted a familiar address in the upper left corner. It was Ayako’s email address.

  His eyes widened in astonishment, and he quickly stood from the chair, knocking it backwards in a clatter.

  The young woman placed the list behind her back and backpedaled toward the door. She said, “Thank you, sir, for your cooperation.”

  “You bastards hacked into Ayako’s email! That is against the law, you can’t do that,” shouted the doctor.

  A voice from the door said, “We can do that under matters of National Security. If you would, please follow me.”

  The doctor glared at the major, who stood in the doorway. He sneered angrily and said through clenched teeth, “You will hear from my lawyer about all of this."

  ***

  Doctor Burch was ushered into an awaiting car and as soon as he shut the door, the driver locked the doors and sped away. The ride passed quickly as he sat in silence and contemplated all that had transpired. None of the events that had taken place made any sense, and he was truly puzzled. Why was the military involved? Why was the name General Crowell so familiar? Why did they drive him four hours out to an installation in order to give him a psych exam? Why didn’t they take the others? Or had they?

  Before he knew it, he was deposited in front of his home, none the worse for wear. He hurried into his house, locked the door, and rushed to his study. Plopping his heavy frame behind his computer he pulled up the internet and scanned for General Crowell.

  Suddenly it dawned upon him and he remembered where he knew that name. Colonel Crowell had been Bo’s commanding officer at the time of the incident in Afghanistan. It was conceivable that the general and colonel were one in the same as he could
have very well been promoted in the time since the Afghanistan incident.

  Information on General Crowell was easy to find as a quick search on various military web sites showed that the general had had moved to Washington, D.C. and accepted a job at the Pentagon shortly after he had been promoted.

  After making flight arrangements online, the doctor left his home armed with the general's address in hand. He hurried to the airport, taking the first flight to Washington D.C.

  Determined to speak with General Crowell, the doctor had steeled his resolve, and was going to find out what was going on, even if it killed him in the process. After the interview that had taken place with the major, it was obvious the Government was highly interested in his work, and that meant they knew something. Something that he would not allow to be kept from him. He deserved to know.

  The flight was uneventful and lasted a little over two hours. As soon as the plane touched down and rolled to a stop at the gate, the doctor stood from his seat and rudely pushed his way through to the front of the crowd. He was the first person to exit the plane and he hastily followed the signs to the nearest car rental booth where he rented a car and drove to the Pentagon.

  He knew that under normal circumstances he would never gain access to the Pentagon. He had a hunch that this was no normal circumstance and that a call to General Crowell would gain his entry.

  The doctor pulled into a parking lot, in front of the main entrance to the Pentagon, and he whipped his vehicle into a free parking spot. He hurriedly strode to the front entrance and stopped at the entry gate. Nodding to a guard, he said, "Please tell General Crowell that Doctor Burch is here to see him."

  The soldier appeared perplexed and he looked back to his comrade within the guardhouse with a questioning look upon his face. “Sergeant, do you know a General Crowell?” the soldier called.

  The sergeant shook his head, exited the guardhouse, and moved closer so that he could speak without shouting. He said, “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t know General Crowell. Is he expecting you?”