Unconsciousness took hold of Ben once more.
He watched Carmine from the kitchen window as she tended her garden. A single blue tulip had bloomed to life in the early hours of the morning, and its petals opened to drink in dew and daylight for the first time. He was a ghost in their home and restricted to dark corners and empty rooms. But in the quiet moments of her private reveries, he watched her undeterred by his fear of discovery or recognition.
“Can you hear me?”
The voice from Ben’s dream bled into reality, and he woke with a start. He shifted and felt something soft underneath him. He was on a small sofa. A scan of his surroundings revealed he was in a cramped room with concrete walls. The presence of two chairs, a round table which bore a box of Kleenex, and Daniel Ford alerted Ben that he was most likely in the Sheriff’s Department and in a room typically reserved for the victims of crimes. The space had obviously been decorated to appear as relaxed but official as possible for the process of taking statements.
“Oh, good,” said the voice. Ben blinked at Daniel and realized it was the deputy’s deep tenor that had roused him from his stupor.
Ben tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness swept through him like a gust of fierce wind.
“Just stay down for now,” Daniel said. “You have a concussion.”
Ben blinked a few times until the words registered. “What happened?”
“Do you remember anything?” Nicholas asked, and Ben noticed the other man for the first time. He stood behind Daniel, his posture rigid. The sheriff’s face was taut with worry, and the shoulders of his uniform were drenched with rain.
Ben closed his eyes and saw Grant Harper put a bullet through his head. He grimaced as the scene looped like a short film at the Marquee.
“Not right now.”
“There was an explosion,” Nicholas said, and he glanced over at Daniel in a way that confused Ben even more. “Sent you flying into a wall. I couldn’t get you to wake up. I brought you back here. Tried to take you to County General, but the roads are out. Flooded. Storm came in not too long after you went down.”
Ben tried to process Nicholas’ account, but he felt only bewilderment.
“I brought you back here,” Nicholas repeated, and he tugged at a pocket on his duty belt as if to keep his hands occupied. “To the station.”
Daniel offered a terse but reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “I think it’s pretty mild. I don’t see any cuts or contusions aside from your forehead, but Nicholas said you had that before the explosion. You just need to rest for now and head over to County tomorrow for a scan to make sure everything’s clear.”
Sarah appeared in the doorway with a bottle of water. A relieved smile crossed her lips when she saw Ben. “Oh, he’s awake!”
“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine,” Daniel said with greater confidence. He straightened when Astrid entered behind Sarah.
“Good,” Astrid said. “But we’re still fucked for communication. Can’t get anyone on the radio. Majors is still trying.”
“Any calls coming in on the landlines?” Nicholas asked.
Sarah shook her head and passed the bottle of water to Ben. “No. All the phone lines are out too.”
“Fuck,” Nicholas sighed. “I’ll be up front when I’m done here.”
Sarah headed out of the room. Daniel cleared his throat and tilted his head to the door. Astrid seemed to be on the same wavelength and peered out into the hallway.
“All clear,” she said.
“So did this explosion have anything to do with our so-called friend in the woods?”
Ben listened to the officers discuss the details of the explosion, realizing that Nicholas must have informed them of Raziel’s situation at some point earlier in the day.
“I still think this whole business is bullshit,” Daniel said, his voice loud enough to cause Astrid to shush him and give a meaningful nod toward the hallway.
“Yeah, but c’mon Thomas,” Daniel said. “Angels? I know your folks are all hopped up on Jesus Juice, and Wisehart over there writes about this shit for a living, but this is the kind of talk that we used to toss Jack Freemont into the drunk tank for.” He faltered and turned to Ben. “I mean, no offense, Ben. I like your books. I fucking loved the zombie one.”
“At least someone did,” Ben said, his voice a croaky whisper.
“Oh, but there was offense intended to me?” Astrid asked and shoved Daniel’s shoulder in a gesture of good-natured reproof.
“Stow it, both of you,” Nicholas said. “Go check on Majors. See if he’s gotten a hold of anyone yet. I’ll join you in a minute.”
Astrid rolled her eyes as if she was accustomed to the sheriff’s curt mood swings. She exited the room with Daniel, and Nicholas dropped down to his knees at Ben’s side.
“How do you feel?”
“Like someone trimmed the footage off my reel.”
“Fuck, I don’t even know—” Nicholas said after a long silence. He seemed to struggle to gather his words. “You stabbed the shield with the angel sword, and it just exploded. There was light everywhere. It was like someone set off a nuke. I couldn’t see anything, it was so bright. Then it cleared, and you weren’t there. I found you on the other side of the factory. Couldn’t get you to wake up at first, and then you did, but just for a minute.”
Ben blinked rapidly as he remembered the figure who strode into the factory to reclaim his sword. “Raziel was there.”
Nicholas nodded. “He walked right in.”
Ben’s missing reel clicked into place. “He got the sword.”
“He picked it up, made that noise he makes, and walked right back out. The storm started after that.”
“The storm?”
“It was just thunder and lightning at first, then it started pouring,” Nicholas said, and a grim expression settled over his features. “I got you out to my car, but it was hell driving back. The rain was so thick, I could hardly see. All of the roads leading in and out of town were completely flooded by the time I made it to the end of River Bend.”
“So we’re cut off?”
“We seem to be. I sent out a few officers to set up blockades, but no one’s out on the roads. Curfew and all.”
“I guess it’s safe to say the festival’s been called off,” Ben said after a moment, and a wave of disorientation washed over him.
“Understatement,” Nicholas said, huffing out a mirthless laugh.
“I don’t know what we do now.”
“If Raziel’s free, does that mean the other one is too?” Nicholas asked.
“Maybe. Probably.”
“So neither one of them has any incentive to stay. Maybe they’ll both just move on.”
“Raziel still has to get his grace back.”
“Well, he can get it himself,” Nicholas replied. “You’re done. This is over. I’ll make a deputy take me up to the factory tomorrow and drive your car back. We’re not going there again after that.”
“Shit, my car’s still up there?”
“I had other concerns, Ben.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Ben whispered when he caught the flash of desperation in Nicholas’ eyes.
“I’ve got to go check on the others,” Nicholas said. “We can’t get any of the other officers to respond, on-duty or otherwise. The fucking radios are fried. Goddamn storm.”
Ben put his hand over Nicholas’ to still him before he rose to his feet. “No, I mean it, Nic. I’m sorry. I was a dick earlier.”
“Yeah, you were,” Nicholas said with a frown. “But so was I. It’s been a hard day, Ben.”
Ben lowered his head and thought of the cindering ruin of the Gazette and Grant Harper’s vacant stare before he blew his brains out. “I know,” he uttered in a soft, hushed voice. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Nicholas said, standing. “Just hang out here for a while. I’ll get the status on my officers and take you home. You need to rest.”
Nicholas s
trode out of the room, and Ben found himself alone. He peered down at his torso and saw his clothes were caked in mud. The memory of the thing on the edge of the forest made Ben jerk upright into a sitting position, and his head swam. For a moment, he was certain he would retch, but he squeezed his eyes shut until the sensation faded.
Ben fumbled with the bottle of water Sarah had given him. He managed to untwist the lid and took a tentative sip but swallowing the cool liquid was a difficult task and he set the bottle beside the box of Kleenex.
Thunder rumbled outside, and Ben registered the uneasy silence that fell over the building that had bustled with busy with officers and ringing phones only a few nights prior. He listened closer and could hear the sound of rain as it beat against the roof.
A familiar vibration tingled against his side, and Ben reached into his coat pocket for his phone. The screen was cracked, but the phone still seemed to be functional. The voicemail icon read: ‘6 New Messages.’
The first message was from Nicholas.
“Ben fucking Wisehart,” the recording started, and Ben flinched at the anger in the other man’s voice. “Who the fuck do you think you are just driving away from me like that? From me? Turn around. Right now. Or I swear I will throw you back in lockup when I find you.”
The message ended, and Ben glanced toward the empty doorway. Guilt soaked through him like the downpour outside.
The next message was also from Nicholas, who sounded less angry and more frantic. “Ben, listen to me, just come back. I’ll go with you. Just don’t go alone. Call me back.”
The third message was Nicholas again. “Ben, I’m at the factory, but I don’t see your car. Where are you? I’ll—” Two gunshots rang in the background. Ben remembered that he had shot Azazel twice. The recording died out with a curse from Nicholas.
When the following message played, it was accompanied by a familiar sizzle of static.
“Ben Wisehart,” said Raziel in his strange, shifting tone. “Thank you.”
There was a pause, and Ben thought the message was over, but Raziel continued.
“Azazel is displeased. He knows what we mean to do and will be ready for us. I will call again when you have rested. We will proceed with a new plan.”
Ben’s brow furrowed as the recording ended. Nicholas insistence that Raziel finish the rest of the ordeal by himself was probably not misguided, but Ben’s thoughts trailed off when he heard Kate’s voice.
“Benji. Listen, I just had a weird feeling like something’s wrong. Call me back. I’m thinking of flying out tonight.”
“Fuck,” Ben whispered and then played the final message.
“Ben, it’s me again. I got a flight, I’m in a cab heading over to LaGuardia now. I don’t know why, I just have this really bad feeling, and you’re not returning my calls. You can laugh at me when I get there, but I’m just worried, little brother. It’s like something—”
There was a clanging crash from the other side of the line, and Ben wanted to scream when he heard Kate shriek. The recording ended.
“End of messages,” said the robotic woman’s disinterested voice.
Ben bolted to his feet, careless of the wave of nausea that crashed through him at the abrupt movement. He stumbled forward, dialing Kate’s cell phone number off by memory even though it was stored in his phone’s list of contacts. His hands shook with something akin to violence as he held up the phone and heard the dial tone in his ear.
Kate’s cell went to voicemail.
It called twice, Ben reminded himself. Raziel had called twice. Ben had assumed the second call had been meant for something that had already happened, something he had already experienced in town. What if the second call had been meant to warn him about Kate?
Ben hung up. His fingers raced across the screen’s keypad to redial the number.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered. “Pick up, goddamnit.”
The responding monotony of the dial tone only increased Ben’s desire to yell.
He strode to the doorway and peered out. The hallway was empty. The phone rang four times and went to voicemail once more.
Nicholas’ earlier question replayed in Ben’s head. If Raziel was free, did that mean Azazel was also no longer restricted to Point Pleasant?
Ben hunched over his phone as he scrolled through his bank of phone numbers until he found the one he needed. ‘Katie - Home.’ He jabbed at the dial button and within two rings, his sister answered.
“Hello?”
“Katie? Kate! It’s Ben.”
“Ben, what’s wrong?”
“Kate!” Ben cried out, sagging in relief.
“You okay, Ben?”
“I thought—I thought you were in an accident. I had this message on my phone—”
“I’m fine, Ben,” Kate assured. “I’m just at home. Trying to finish off this deposition so that I can fly out on Wednesday. What message?”
Ben scrubbed a hand over his jaw and took a moment to just breathe. “You know, it must have been the wrong number.”
Kate was quiet. “Yeah, must have been. I’m fine, Ben. Are you?”
“I’m great, Katie. I’m fine if you’re fine,” Ben said, and he laughed with what felt like hysteria. He could practically hear Kate’s frown through the phone line.
“Are you sure? You sound really fucking weird right now, Benji. Are you—are you really doing okay? Have you been drinking?”
“Yes, absolutely. I mean, no, I haven’t been drinking. But I’m fine. You get back to work. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll send you my flight details tomorrow.”
“Okay. Bye, Katie.”
“Bye, Ben.” Kate sounded uneasy, but the connection ended after a few seconds.
Ben doubled over and put his hands on his knees to brace himself. He pulled in another deep breath, pocketed his phone, and straightened to walk to the doorway.
The hallway was still empty, and Ben frowned. He turned left and headed down the long corridor, pausing only for a moment to gain his bearings when the passage split. He opted to go right and found himself in the main office at the front of the station.
Astrid and Sarah were hunched over a desk. The former fiddled with the dials on her handheld while the latter tapped at the screen of her cell phone.
“I can’t even get a signal,” Sarah said. “I don’t understand.”
“Radio’s just static,” Astrid said, and she clipped the radio onto her duty belt.
“Ben,” Sarah said when she noticed him. “You’re supposed to be lying down.”
“I’m okay,” he said. “I have a signal.” He pulled out his phone as if to prove the point, and Sarah closed the distance between them.
“I really need to call home,” she said. “I told the babysitter Carl and me would be back ten minutes ago. She’s sweet, but she gets antsy when I’m late. And with the storm—”
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Astrid said. “It’s just a little rain, the kids are probably asleep, and Amy won’t complain about the extra cash.”
Ben swiped across his touchscreen while they spoke, but the signal bars in the top right were empty. “Shit,” he said. “I just made a call in the back. Maybe there’s interference up here?”
Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but Nicholas and Daniel hurdled through the front doors. The collars of their drenched jackets were turned up, though this had done little to shield their faces from the rain.
Nicholas had Tucker’s spare Remington in his right hand. He spotted Ben and glowered. “You’re not supposed to be up.”
Astrid cleared her throat. “He’s fine, boss. Trying to help Sarah check on the kids.”
“Still no luck with the phone lines?” Daniel asked.
“No,” Sarah said, and frown lines marred the youthful set of her face.
“Where’s Majors?” Nicholas asked.
“He’s in surveillance. Thought maybe he could spot some of the patrol cars to get a general 10
-20.”
“That’s smart. I’ll go check on him,” Nicholas said. “C’mon, Ben. You’re going back to the interview room.”
“I’m fine, Nic.”
Nicholas strode closer, slid a hand into the crook of Ben’s left arm, and tugged him along. Ben frowned as he followed, but he did not miss the wide-eyed smirk Astrid sent to Sarah.
When they were out of earshot, Ben pulled out of Nicholas’ grasp. “I don’t need to lie down, so please stop.”
“Ben,” Nicholas said, rounding a corner. “I have enough to deal with right now without worrying you’re going to keel over again.”
“I’m fine,” Ben repeated with a note of exasperation. “What’s happening?”
“We’ve got eight units out on the roads, but we can’t get in touch with any of them. No one’s been on Main Street for the last half hour, and at least two of them should have been back at the station by now.”
“Maybe they’re busy.”
“Maybe,” Nicholas said and paused outside an unmarked door. “Let me just check in with Majors, then I’ll walk you back.”
“Nic,” Ben said, huffing out a breath.
Nicholas rolled his eyes and adjusted his hold on the Remington’s stock so that he could reach for the door handle.
Inside the cramped room, the deputy who had processed Ben’s booking three nights prior was perched on the edge of a desk chair. There was a plate of double-sided glass in the wall behind him. Ben knew that there was most likely an interrogation room on the other side. He imagined it featured a gray table and two uncomfortable chairs, one of which was used in alternating shifts by two officers who would stride in and out, each adopting their own version of the good-cop, bad-cop dynamic to disorient the guilty into spilling all their sins.
The wall to the left was lined with six small black-and-white screens, each showing different views of the town. Majors worked with one of the three computers in front of him. His attention darted between the keyboard and the surveillance footage.
“Anything?” Nicholas asked.
Majors shook his head. In the blue glow of the computer monitors, the creased wrinkles on his furrowed brow stood out like the cracks in the concrete of a dark sidewalk beneath a neon sign. “I don’t get it,” he said. “I’ve been checking all over town for the last ten minutes. Haven’t seen a damn soul on the cameras until you and Ford ran out front a few minutes ago.”
Point Pleasant Page 32