The First Church

by Ron Ripley

  “Excellent,” Dan said. “I’ll see you at four.”

  “Goodbye, Dan.”

  Luke ended the call and carefully returned the phone to the side table.

  “James,” Luke said.

  “Yes, sir?” James asked.

  “Detective Brown will be sending a police officer here to speak with the two of you, and I was wondering if you could find Brian’s number and call him for me? I believe it’s on the counter by the toaster,” Luke said.

  “Yes, sir,” James said.

  Luke listened as his grandson got up and went into the kitchen.

  “How are you holding up, Lisa?” Luke asked.

  Her voice came from the right side of the couch.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “It doesn’t feel like what I saw was real, even though I know it was.”

  Luke nodded. “Do you want to call your parents?”

  “They’re both at work, and they both had meetings today. I can’t call when there are meetings,” she said.

  “You may have to,” Luke said. “Police tend not to question teenagers without a parent present.”

  “I have it, Grandpa,” James said, coming back into the room.

  “Very good, James,” Luke said. “Will you do me another favor and call him? The detective would like all of us to meet here at four.”

  “Yes, sir,” James said.

  Luke listened as the boy sat back down on the couch and dialed the number.

  I wonder, Luke thought, if George’s cousin is as strange as George was.

  Chapter 47: Alex Charles Goes for a Drive

  Alex Charles, at forty-one years of age, had been a professional alcoholic since he was thirteen. Most days no one even knew. He had woken up at Hurlington House at four and pounded back the last half of a fifth of some cheap vodka. He was feeling pretty good, even with the headache which had started a little while before.

  His thoughts felt fuzzy, as if they were crowded.

  And he couldn’t quite remember leaving his room and going down into the parking lot.

  Even though he was drunk, and didn’t recall why he was leaving, Alex didn’t miss the lock on the truck door. Nor did he fumble with the ignition in the old Dodge Ram. Nope, everything went smoothly, like it always did.

  The truck’s engine turned over, the gears shifted, and he pulled out of the parking lot. Whistling to himself Alex drove happily down Main Street.

  Sure, he almost hit a couple of parked cars, but hey, who didn’t after a couple of drinks?

  He fumbled with a cigarette, managed to get the truck’s lighter pushed in, and jerked the wheel to the left in time to miss the mirror of a new Lexus as the car tried to pull out of a parking space.

  “Jerk,” Alex muttered to himself around his cigarette. He tried to inhale, remembered it wasn’t lit, and stopped just in time at a red light. The lighter popped, and Alex pulled it out, lit the cigarette, and waved to the guy behind him who laid on the horn.

  Yeah, green means go, but I’m busy, Alex thought. He dropped the lighter onto the floor, sighed, and eased into the intersection. The impatient driver jerked his Lexus to the left, and cut around Alex. The man gave Alex the American, one-finger salute, and Alex waved again.

  Whatever, Alex sighed, his head pounding with a vicious headache. The cab was cold too, and no matter how high he had the heat, the chill remained.

  Tunes, Alex thought, suddenly. I need some tunes.

  He leaned forward, turned on the radio, and for some reason he pulled down on the steering wheel at the same time. The truck jumped the curb, knocked the cigarette out of his mouth and onto his lap. Alex let out a shout of surprise and anger.

  He slapped at the smoldering ashes on his jeans, then, without warning, his right foot stepped down hard on the gas.

  Surprised at what his hand and foot had done seemingly of their own accord, Alex could only watch in horror as the truck lurched forward. The powerful, eight-cylinder engine propelled the vehicle over the sidewalk and up the stairs of the Rye Police Station. The stairs, where a man stood and looked shocked at the sight of the chrome and metallic blue front end of the truck as it raced towards him.

  Alex, drunk as he was, tried to hit the brake, but his foot refused to respond, and it was too late. The truck had too much momentum. Unable to close his eyes, Alex watched in dull horror as the grill slammed into the man and threw him backward.

  As the truck shuddered to a halt, the airborne man broke through the plate glass of the station’s door. He vomited blood in a wide spray which covered everything as he slammed into the next door and broke it as well.

  Oh no, Alex thought. There’s no way he could have survived that.

  Chapter 48: Dan Brown has a Revelation

  Dan Brown lay on his back in the foyer of the Rye Police Station. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything.

  He could feel hands on him, though. Someone held his neck steady, and someone else took his hand and squeezed it. He tried to respond, but his fingers only fluttered weakly.

  He killed me, Dan thought, and he chuckled silently. Jesus Christ, that drunk Alex Charles has killed me.

  Dan had arrested Alex a dozen times over the years. All for driving under the influence in that Dodge of his.

  And they had never put him away.

  Not once.

  And now, I’m dying.

  He coughed, as he tasted blood and felt broken teeth.

  Christ, he thought. All I wanted was a sandwich.

  Just a sandwich. A BLT.

  He felt rather than heard the death rattle in his lungs, and he knew what it meant. Just like those around him knew what the sound stood for.

  Whoever held his hand, squeezed it harder.

  Dan managed to grip it, and he wondered who tried to comfort him. He wanted to thank them, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work.

  He felt a sharp pinch in his other hand, and he thought it might be an IV.

  They’re trying to save me, he thought sadly. They know I’m dying, but they’re trying anyway.

  He felt something cold against his chest, and he figured was medical scissors. Dan had seen hundreds of accidents. Nothing was a surprise.

  Except for what was coming next.

  Dan had no idea what to expect.

  He had been a good Christian. He had tried to be a good man.

  Dan tried to move again, and agony raced through his body. He shrieked and the hand which held his, squeezed harder.

  Death didn’t creep over Dan.

  It slammed into him with all of the weight of Alex’s Dodge.

  Chapter 49: Brian and Shane try to Plan

  “What do you think?” Shane asked.

  “About what?” Brian said.

  “Who should go in?” Shane said, lighting a cigarette.

  The two men sat on a stone wall which wrapped around an old farm. The air smelled sweetly of spring, and the sun was warm. Midday had slipped by, and the afternoon seemed to be in a rush.

  “Just you and me,” Brian replied after a moment. “I can see the dead, and you can speak Japanese. It'll be dangerous enough with the two of us. I sure as hell don’t want to bring Luke or Jim with us.”

  “Neither do I,” Shane agreed. “I’ve got this gut feeling we should, though.”

  Brian was silent for a moment, and then he nodded. “You’re right. Feels like we need them both.”

  “Exactly,” Shane said.

  Brian scratched his head before he said, “We’ll have to take extra precautions. Make sure they stay out of harm’s way as much as possible. I just really, really wish we didn’t have to take them.”

  “Same here,” Shane said. “But the feeling’s there, right in the pit of my stomach.”

  “Me too.” Brian shook his head and said, “I hate the idea of putting the two of them in possible danger.”

  “There’s no possible about it,” Shane said grimly. “Jim’s already experienced some of the violence the dead are ca
pable of. The fact that we’re going to be putting a blind man and a young teenager turns my stomach. I mean, we need them. And other than the gut feeling I have, I can’t really justify it.”

  “I can,” Brian said. “We need as much help as we can get. Even if one is still a child and the other is a blind senior citizen.”

  “Yeah. So,” Shane said, looking at him. “We’ll keep them safe.”

  “Best we can,” Brian said, sighing.

  “Let’s hope it’s enough,” Shane said softly.

  “Yeah. So,” Brian said, standing up and stretching. “Want to head back to town?

  “Yeah,” Shane said. He got off the wall, yawned and then said, “We'll have to talk to Charles, won't we?”

  Brian nodded. “Do you think he has anything big enough to transport multiple skulls at once?”

  Shane shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never asked him or Ellen the specifics about the ghost prison they run.”

  “Right,” Brian said, chuckling. “Yeah. Feels like the less I know, the better.”

  “Definitely,” Shane said with a grin.

  The two of them began the walk back to the center of Rye. As they did so, Brian took a cigar out, lit it, and smoked happily as they went.

  “It’s nice up here,” Shane said shortly.

  “It is,” Brian agreed. “Too noisy for me now.”

  “Oh yeah?” Shane asked.

  Brian nodded. “Yup. The stress of my job and just the constant strife of life in Manchester drove me crazy. Too much crime. Jenny, my wife, and I, we moved mostly for my sake out to Mont Vernon.”

  “For the country air?” Shane said, grinning.

  “For my heart,” Brian said. “Had a couple of heart attacks. Pretty sure the next one will do me in.”

  Shane looked at him. “You’re serious.”

  “Yup.”

  “Damn,” Shane said. “I’m sorry to hear about that.”

  Brian shrugged. “Not a whole lot I can do. I take my medicine. But not much more. I mean I don’t eat the way I should, and there’s no way in hell I’m giving up my whiskey.”

  “Yeah,” Shane said. “Lack of whiskey would be a deal breaker for me, too.”

  Brian’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

  The number was one he didn’t recognize, but he answered it.

  “Hello?” he asked.

  “Brian,” a young voice said, “this is Jim Bogue.”

  “Oh, hey Jim, what’s going on?” Brian asked, stopping. Shane did as well.

  “My grandpa asked if you would be able to come to our house at four, this afternoon. Detective Brown is going to meet us as well,” Jim said. “He doesn’t want anyone to listen in on our talk about the ghosts.”

  “Fair enough,” Brian said. “What’s your address?”

  “Fourteen Elwood Street,” Jim said, “we’re right across from the Church at an angle. It’s a Victorian.”

  “Fourteen Elwood,” Brian repeated. “Got it, kid. We’ll see you then.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Brian ended the call and put the phone away.

  “Meeting of the minds?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah,” Brian said, starting towards downtown again. “I’m assuming the detective found something out. He wants to meet at four at Luke’s house.”

  “Sounds good,” Shane said. “Who knows who’ll be listening at the coffee shop. Or anywhere else.”

  “Yup.” Brian sighed, tapped the head of ash off his cigar into the street and asked, “So, how do you think we should handle this?”

  “Get in touch with Charles first,” Shane said. “We’ll need whatever containment system he has before we go into the house on Indian Rock Road.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Brian said. “If the police do have the Church sealed off, everything will be a little easier. We won’t have to worry about anyone getting hurt there.”

  “And by taking on the house and whoever has the damned skulls, we can make sure no others get transported to the damned place,” Shane added.

  “Exactly,” Brian said, nodding his head.

  “Alright,” Shane said, grinning around his cigarette, “let’s give old Charles a call and see what he has to say.”

  Chapter 50: The Meeting

  Lisa had gone home after the police had questioned them both. Jim knew neither of them were suspects, but it was still uncomfortable to talk to the police. And the officers had seemed on edge.

  When Jim had asked his grandfather about it, he had answered it was because of the condition of the body. It was difficult to see a man butchered, even for the police.

  At four in the afternoon, Brian and Shane had rung the bell for the main door, and Jim had hurried down to let them in.

  Now, the four of them sat with his grandfather and waited for the arrival of Detective Brown.

  Footsteps rang out on the stairs, and Jim saw his grandfather frown.

  “It’s your mother, Jim,” he said. “Let her in, please.”

  Jim got up and opened the door.

  His mother smiled, came in, and looked in surprise at Brian and Shane, both of whom stood up as she entered.

  Jim introduced them all, and his mother nodded hello as the men returned to their seats.

  “Wow, Dad,” she said, looking around again, a concerned expression on her face. “What’s with all of the guests?”

  “We’re discussing the situation at the Church,” Luke said. “These gentlemen have been so kind as to come and assist us.”

  Jim’s mother looked around angrily, as though she had just caught Jim and some of his friends smoking stolen cigarettes.

  “What’s going on?” his grandfather asked, bringing her attention back to him.

  “You remember the detective from the other day?” she asked.

  “Detective Brown,” his grandfather answered, nodding. “Has he arrived? I asked him to come over.”

  “No,” Jim’s mother said, her face becoming pale. “Dad, he’s dead.”

  “What?” his grandfather asked. Then he shook his head. “How?”

  “A drunk driver,” his mother answered. “The guy’s truck jumped the curb, went over the sidewalk and slammed into the detective as he was leaving the Station.”

  “Oh Jesus,” Brian said, sighing.

  Shane nodded, and Jim went and sat down, shocked.

  “I just wanted to let you know,” she said. “I thought it was strange since the officer died of a heart attack in the Church.”

  “It is strange,” his grandfather murmured. “Thank you for telling me, my dear.”

  “Sure,” she said, and she closed the door as she left the room.

  “Damn,” Brian said. “Damn.”

  Jim could only nod his agreement.

  “Well,” his grandfather said, clearing his throat. “I know the detective found out George Montgomery’s house at Indian Rock Road is now occupied, and by a man named Miles Cunningham. Dan was going to check if the man had a record, but obviously, we’ll never know, now.”

  Shane rubbed the back of his head and said, “Alright. Brian and I called a colleague of ours down in Nashua. The man and his wife specialize in containing difficult ghosts. We had to leave a message, but basically, we shouldn’t make any sort of move until we know we can securely hold the skulls without the ghosts killing us for our trouble.”

  "Okay," Brian said. "We need to figure out how to get into the Church so we can deal with the situation in there."

  “What about one of us, or even all of us, sneaking in?” Jim said tentatively.

  “What do you mean, James?” his grandfather asked.

  “Someone’s snuck in and put the skulls in the Church, right?” Jim asked.

  All three of the men nodded.

  “So, we should be able to sneak in, too,” Jim continued. “I mean, the guy’s pretty comfortable getting into the Church, what’s to stop him from trying to get in again, or us from doing the same?”

&n
bsp; “I think Jim’s right,” Brian said, nodding. “What is to stop him? He probably went in at night, and I don’t think the police are going to put an officer on the place. They’ll probably seal everything and return in the morning.”

  “Which means the guy will have all night,” Shane said. He sighed. “Great. So, how do we deal with this situation?”

  “Stakeout?” Jim asked.

  All of the men laughed, and Jim felt his face go red.

  “No, no,” Brian said quickly, “we’re not laughing at you, Jim. Not at all. It’s a good idea.”

  “Stakeout,” his grandfather said gently, “is a term we don’t often hear outside of a police drama.”

  Jim nodded, grinned, and said, “Yeah. I guess I did kind of sound like a TV cop, didn’t I?”

  “You did, kid,” Shane said, chuckling. “But you’re right. We should watch the place. I don’t know if the guy will come back anytime soon, but he sure does seem to like putting the skulls there.”

  “Shall we set up a schedule, then?” his grandfather asked.

  Brian and Shane looked at him, surprised.

  Jim’s grandfather smiled. “Just because I cannot see, gentlemen, doesn’t mean I can’t hear. I’ll be able to sit and listen. I do it very well.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Brian said. “Alright, we need a schedule. Is it just between the three of us, or is Jim going to help?”

  Jim felt a rush of pride.

  “He’ll be able to help,” his grandfather said. “I would prefer if we did the watching in pairs, however. Jim and I could take the first four hours after sunset. I doubt our ghost transporting friend will make an effort to sneak in while the sun is still up.”

  “True,” Shane said.

  Suddenly, Shane’s phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket.

  “It’s Charles,” Shane said. “Excuse me, please.”

  He stepped out of the room as he answered the call.

  They waited in silence for a few minutes, until Shane returned.

  The man grinned at all of them as he said, “Charles has something. He just has to wait until his wife gets home. He said it was too big for him to move by himself. He’ll give us a call when they’re on their way.”