“Anytime, Mack, I would be very happy to enlighten you again” Michelle responded with a glowing smile splashed all over her beautiful face. She was clearly just as appreciative of their symbiotic relationship as Mack was.
Mack left Roscoe resting at Michelle’s house and he set out in his burnt orange Chevy Avalanche 4X4. The truck was nicely equipped with oversized mud tires, an eight-inch lift kit, and a front police vehicle type push bumper with a mounted winch.
He traveled across town to tend to some business before setting out on his excursion into this quickly devolving nation.
Mack idled his truck, made the turn onto Matilda Drive, and parked in front of the Talucci residence. Resting somewhat uncomfortably and high on his pain meds, Dave was now back home after having his fractured wrist surgically repaired.
Dave was groggy but recognized the bulky outline of Mack, who had let himself in through the unlocked front door.
“You really need to lock that thing,” Mack commented as he proceeded to find a seat in the cluttered bedroom. “No telling who might let themselves in. How are you doing, man?”
The incapacitated Dave had his entire right arm in a cast. To the left of his bed was a black aluminum folding tray table upon which he had placed several empty Shiner Beer bottles.
“Hey, Mack! Umm, I’m doing all right. How’s Roscoe?”
“He’s gonna make it, just will take some time for him to be back at 100 percent. But he will be eventually. Thanks again for your help in getting him back.”
“Don’t thank me, I’m the dumbass who got hurt out there. I caused more trouble than good.”
“What matters is you came. You didn’t wuss out like plenty of others would have. You got guts, man. I respect the hell out of you for that.”
Dave was happy to receive such high praise. “You and Duy call me if you need anything while you are out there looking for Jake. If you need money, supplies, information, anything. Just let me know.”
Dave fell into a deep analgesic sleep and Mack left just as he had entered. He decided to stroll across the street to check in on Amanda before leaving town for who knows how long.
From the exterior, Amanda and Jake’s modest house appeared unkempt and possibly vacant. The lawn was uncut with crabgrass growing uncontrollably high. Within the picture windows, dark curtains were all pulled together and closed tightly. Unopened mail, advertising fliers and newspapers were strewn across the front step and a porch light continued to burn despite the light of day surrounding it.
Mack knocked on the front door twice and heard nothing from within. A third, louder pounding brought the unmistakable scuffing of house shoes upon a linoleum floor and Amanda appeared at the door, looking like all hell warmed over. “Mack. Hi.”
“You okay?”
Amanda avoided the question and responded, “come in, that sunlight is blinding me.” Her skin pale from the lack of sunlight, her clothing was wrinkled as if slept in for days. Amanda asked Mack how his investigation into Jake’s incident was going. Mack revealed some of the details he had uncovered but was hesitant to disclose his doubts surrounding the report of Jake’s death. Mack felt it would be inappropriate at this early juncture to get Amanda’s hopes up, especially if in the end he would be proven completely wrong.
“We got Roscoe back. Me, Dave, and Duy. Dave broke his wrist in the process, but he’s back home now and healing. Roscoe was very malnourished and on his deathbed when we found him, but our friend Michelle from the coroner’s office has got him back on track.”
“Oh, that’s so cool! Jake would have been so happy and grateful to you for saving Roscoe! He loved that dog so much.”
“So how are you doing, Amanda?”
“Well Mack, I feel like shit, to be quite honest. I’ve been told I should seek some grief counseling to talk about my feelings to get them all out so they don’t remain bottled up inside me and cause stress and illness.
“So, I have been speaking at great lengths with Jack Daniels and Sam Adams, just to name a couple of my grief counselors. I also often find myself talking to Jake as if he was still here with me.
“I cry for him every single day. And as much as it pains me to cry so much, at the same time it somehow, oddly enough, soothes me as well. I know that wherever he is, he knows that I am mourning his loss and he knows that I will always have him in my mind.”
Amanda’s eyes welled up, and tears began to flow down her somber pale face. “Mack, sometimes I really think I’m losing my mind. This is gonna sound really messed up and psychotic. There’s a TV show where people have bizarre habits and addictions. There was one episode where a woman in her 30s lost her husband in a car crash or something like that. “They kept showing her licking her finger after dipping it into the urn full of her husband’s cremated remains. She was eating so much of these ashes that the whole urn was almost empty. She was making herself sick due to all of the chemicals mixed with the remains.
“Essentially she was poisoning herself but could not stop. I watched that show before Jake was gone and thought it was a hoax, so scripted and fake. But now that Jake is gone, I truly believe that story could have easily been true.
“I constantly long to touch him again - to smell him, taste him. I wish I could somehow contact him just one more time. I would gladly poison myself to be privileged enough to savor his remains, taste his ashes. Just to be a part of him again and him a part of me. Oh, God, I miss him so much!”
Mack was now himself shedding tears and speechless. He offered a comforting hug to the grieving woman.
“I’m sorry for being such a downer…” Amanda apologized.
“No, you’re not being a downer. That is how you should be feeling,” assured Mack. “So how is baby Carson doing?”
“Not great. He has been acting very rambunctious, hyper. I wonder if he might be bipolar. And now I need to find him a new babysitter too.
“His regular babysitter was this teenage girl named Tracey, who was about Austin’s age.
She watched Carson occasionally in the evenings when I would go out after work with
friends. She was nice, prompt, and caring - up until one evening.
“I came home one night to find Tracey waiting in the driveway. She was upset that Carson had scratched her arm and gave her a small bite on her neck, which broke the skin and caused slight bleeding.
“I was so mad that she had left Carson unattended in the house while she waited for me in the driveway. I stopped calling Tracey to sit for several months until finally there was an evening when I had no choice but to call her because no other sitters or options were available. Tracey did not seem her regular cheerful, attentive self that night. She seemed to have a dark cloud hanging over her. She was very rude, short, and unsociable.
“I became concerned and did not want to leave Carson with her that night, but I had no choice. I set out some hidden video recorders in Carson’s bedroom and in the living room/ kitchen area and set them to record.
“I returned home at the end of the evening to find Carson in his crib crying and cranky and Tracey sitting in the dark on the back porch. I went to ask how the night went and noticed she had feces on the front of her shirt.
“I said, ‘Oh, honey - it looks like you got something on you when you changed Carson. Do you want some stain remover?’
“Tracey just remarked ‘no,’ said she was fine and seemed to be in a hurry to leave.
“After she was gone, I curiously replayed the digital video recording of the night’s activity. I was shocked at what I saw. Tracey changed baby Carson’s diaper in the baby’s room, then left him alone in his crib.
“She then carried the open soiled diaper into the living room where she promptly sat down, put the diaper up to her face and began to sniff at the contents like a dog inhaling a steak that was frying well within his reach.
“Tracey then began to lick at the stools and soon afterwards she was eating the feces as if it were a chocolate pudding treat!”
Amanda n
ever told Tracey’s parents about this; out of fear they would think she was crazy. Amanda never called Tracey again, but several weeks later she heard through neighborhood gossip that Tracey went missing from her home. It was believed that she did not run away, that there was foul play involved because she did not take any of her belongings with her like money, clothes, cellphone…nothing.
Mack demonstrated a sense of shock, unable to explain the sitter’s outlandish behavior. Amanda continued, “Also, Austin’s getting into trouble. He is consumed with hatred for Jake, thinks Jake intentionally murdered his parents. I was thinking about putting him in military school. Sometimes he just up and runs away for days at a time, offering no explanation as to where hegoes and why.”
“I had no idea you were having so much trouble with him. If you want, when I get back, I can try talking to him if you think that will help.”
“Sure, that would be nice, Mack. It can’t hurt.”
“Okay. Well, take care of yourself and holler if you need anything.” Mack said goodbye and prepared to leave Ms. McKnight when she wished him a safe trip and kissed him on the cheek.
Mack drove to his police headquarters and gave written notice of his request for an undetermined length of leave of absencefrom work. He then returned to Michelle’s house to check on Roscoe’s condition.
Once there, he was pleased to find the Malinois in much better condition. He was still thin but appeared to be much more alert. So much so that he greeted Mack with a wet lick across the face and heavy tail wagging.
“Roscoe, boy, you ready to get back to work? Let’s go for a ride!”
Mack and Roscoe jogged to the front door and prepared to exit Michelle’s place when Mack uttered to Michelle, “I owe you one. Thanks again.”
Michelle gave Mack an even wetter lick across the face, and Mack and Roscoe exited the residence. The duo of officers jumped into the waiting orange Avalanche.
Mack picked up the cellphone and pushed the call button for Duy Tran.
“Dew-manpack your bags. It’s time for our road trip.”
North Dallas (Present Day) Ms. Valencia had heard Jake speak of his beautiful girlfriend often and with great endearment, but Michelle had not met Amanda in person. After talking to Mack and learning that Jake was possibly still alive, Michelle was compelled to reach out to Amanda for the first time.
Michelle messaged Amanda on Facebook and said she was sorry to hear about the tragedy with Jake and his reported death. Michelle expressed her sympathy and added that everyone she works with at the medical examiner’s office knew Jake and admired him. They all also felt he had been wrongly accused of the murders of his brother and sister in law, and it was obvious there was some sort of corruption and cover up underway.
Still grieving and in need of an outlet, Amanda took the opportunity to invite Michelle to meet her somewhere for drinks. The two agreed to join up at a nearby watering hole. “I ache for him, Michelle. I thought it was bad when Jake was locked up, away from me, for months – on death row. But that was nothing compared to the way I feel now that he is dead. Before there was still a chance that he could get his conviction overturned and I could still at least visit him until then.
“But now he is gone forever. And I know this sounds selfish on my part, because he is the one who suffered, but I feel like I got screwed over too. He’s all I can think of, from the time I wake up each day and realize it wasn’t just a bad dream - to the time I cried myself to sleep at night. And when I wake up it starts all over again.
“Some days I spend hours in our closet just going through his stuff , trying to recall a special moment we may have had or something we may have done together when he was wearing each item. I hug his shirts, breathe in his clothes, trying to reach his aura. I just cannot get past the fact that he won’t ever be back. EVER. Thanks a lot, God.”
Michelle made a valiant effort to console Amanda, saying, “You know Jake would want you to move on, to ….”
Amanda held up herright hand as if not wanting to hear another word. “Yeah, yeah, he would want you to be happy, I know…. blah blah blah. You know how many times I have heard that? Screw that.
“I have no desire to meet someone else. Maybe I don’t want to be happy. Perhaps I just happen to be content in the state I’m in now – alone, missing Jake, wallowing in my misery.
“You know, sometimes I even feel like hurting myself. Not badly, but just a little. Even just the short time it takes me to fight through the pain, wash off the blood and triage my wound is just enough of a distraction to take my mind off Jake for a few minutesor so.”
Michelle sensed that she had misspoken when she suggested Amanda should someday move on without Jake. So, Michelle was quick to take the first opportunity she had to change the topic.
“So where are you working now?”
Amanda talked about having just recently resumed her career after a long leave of absence. She went on to describe the wealth management brokerage where she was currently employed.
“It helps take my mind off Jake for a few days a week. I guess that’s a good thing.”
Amanda then spoke about one of the agency’s customers, an oil baron named Chad Tillinghast. He was hitting on her regularly, proposing to her in the office although hedidn’t even know her. He promised her wealth and was offering her expensive gifts to go out with him.
“ Wow! Sounds like a hell of an offer. What’s this guy look like?” Michelle examined. “He’s beautiful,” Amanda insisted.
“Six feet tall, dark features. You can tell he runs and works out.
“But he’s a cocky asshole, and I can’t stand the sight of him. All the money in the world
couldn’t sway me into spending a single minute with him - whether I was looking for someone or not. I would take my new boyfriend Bob over him anytime.”
Michelle was confused but intrigued. “Wait a minute. Who’s Bob?”
“You know, B.O.B …. my battery-operated boyfriend….”
Michelle laughed out loud. “Hey, I’ve been seeing Bob too. That son of a bitch is cheating on us both!”
Chapter Nineteen - Loathing Love shack
Route 77, West Virginia He had been driving off and on for a couple days now, still sticking with smaller byways and routes that were less likely to be traveled by the police. Although this was greatly prolonging Jake’s trip, he preferred a slower, methodical trek to one that was rushed and unscrupulous. Jake could not risk being impatient and potentially ending his mission with him being captured.
Hathaway found himself to be somewhere in the West Virginia area not too far off the beaten path from Route 77. The stolen Oldsmobile was sputtering and fussing and blowing out blue and grey smoke along with its normal exhaust. The car was going to draw too much attention in this condition, and who knows how much longer it would even drive before it just couldn’t go on any longer.
These factors considered; Jake decided it best to abandon the Olds. He drove the clunker into the middle of a corn field full of brown six-foot-high corn stalks that should have been harvested months ago.
Jake set out on foot and soon ascertained this Appalachian Mountain Area was not the easiest terrain to travel on foot. He was beginning to second guess his decision to hoof it. He trekked through the hilly, rocky region for a couple hours and was growing tired, thirsty, and hungry.
So, when the escapee happened across an old shed built beside a 20-foot-high cliff, he thought it might be the ideal spot to rest for a bit. Gathering from the homemade looking pots and pipes spread along the ground outside the shack, Jake assumed this was an old abandoned moonshine distillery.
The shed appeared to have been assembled utilizing recycled boards and materials. Jake quietly glided over to the small structure’s door and listened for but heard no sounds coming from the inside.
He opened the squeaky, unsecured door, and immediately used his senses to discover that the lighting inside was dim. There was also an incredible stench of some type emana
ting from within. Jake entered and closed the door behind him but soon realized he had no flashlight, lighter, matches, or anything else he could use to illuminate the place.
He began to feel around in front of him with his hands. He was not searching for anything but was more interested in swiping away cobwebs. He also was attempting to prevent himself from walking into a tool or something hanging from the ceiling that might smack him in the face.
“GRRRRRRRRRRR!!!” Jake heard this growl directly in front of him and he yelled in his mind, “OH SHITTTTTTT!!!” without making an audible sound. Stealth was an important attribute of the combat soldier and for police officers as well. Jake remained silent while backtracking swiftly to the entrance.
He reached behind him to open the door while still facing forward. He had not turned his back on whatever the possible threat in front of him in the blackness of the shack was. Jake gently pushed the creaky door open, slowly allowing the Appalachian sunlight to flow within.
The usually composed combat vet froze in fear and shock over what he saw next. Now visible in the back of the shack was a nude woman chained to a work bench - bent over forwards. The female was tied with hay bale string around her wrists, ankles, and neck. “What the hell is going on here?” Jake inquired aloud, hoping to get answers from the restrained lady, who responded only with more “GRRRRRR” sounds.
Jake’s eyes were still adjusting to the new light coming into the shed. He n ow noticed this tied figure was not a normal woman. She looked much like Holly had on that terrible day. Greasy, thin hair covered part of her head, while other spots were bare, as if clumps had just fallen out.
The lidless and brow less eyes were cold and inhuman with tiny black pupils. The skin appeared rotting, moist, varying in color, and in places was falling off. IT could not communicate and did not appear to be trying.
IT acted as if it were sniffing Jake and making biting and chewing motions with the mouth. The THING was acting almost as if it was enjoying the scent of Jake so much that it wanted to have a taste.
Not getting any answers from the subject, Jake pondered the situation. Had this been a family member or dear friend that someone could not find the means or finances to support any longer? Could they not seek medical attention for her in this horrible condition she was in? Or was this some female who had been kidnapped and left in the shed for weeks before some disease or thing got hold of her and turned her into this creature?
Wicked Awake Page 17