by Joshua Grove
CRIMSON FALLS
Joshua Grove
Book One of The Depravity Chronicles
Crimson Falls
Text Copyright 2012 by Joshua G. Grove
All Rights Reserved
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
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Rise of the Underworld (September, 2012)
Lucifer Rising (December, 2012)
For Rita.
CHAPTER ONE
Shadows
1
As winter slowly approached northern Minnesota, Alan Brickton was enjoying his favorite pastime. Fishing would not be an option in a few weeks, so he glanced at his line as he took a drag of his Newport.
“Can’t swim from me!” Alan yelled to the fish, his cigarette hanging from his near blue lips. “Black Bear ain’t froze over yet, by God.” He smiled as he grabbed his fishing rod and began pulling in what he thought would be his dinner. Suddenly there was a loud rustling of leaves directly behind him.
“Jesus H. Christ!” he yelled as he dropped his pole. He watched as it slid into the river, hauled by the large fish still attached to the hook. He spun around to face whoever had trespassed onto his property. He scanned the trees and underbrush, breathing heavily with annoyance and frustration. All he saw was his own breath drifting upward in front of him.
“Who’s there?” he bellowed. At first he was pissed that he had lost his favorite pole. Then, as he continued to listen to the perfect stillness that surrounded him, panic began to swim in his stomach. Flashbacks of Vietnam streamed through his head.
“Damn brats!” he screamed. “If I find you on my property I will shoot your commie heads off!” He cursed himself silently for not having his gun with him. He listened for the sound of someone running away. Only silence prevailed. They were still there, watching him.
He took a small step forward. As he did, he heard something running through the shallow water behind him. He turned around too quickly, almost losing his footing. From the corner of his eye he saw a shape move past his body. A familiar emotion from his war days began to creep into Alan’s body. Fear.
Who in the hell can run that fast? he thought to himself.
Feeling lightheaded, he took a deep breath and nearly retched. The smell was more horrid than anything he had ever encountered. Even in Nam, when he had helped bury bodies, and body parts, nothing had smelled even remotely this foul. Suddenly the shape sprinted past him again, this time stopping in the shallow water. As he turned toward the shore, his fishing pole struck him in the chest.
“Mother fucker!” Alan cried. When he looked up again, the water was clear. Only ripples remained where the stranger had just been standing. He knew when he was being stalked. Hunted. He turned around in a circle, looking in all directions for any sign of movement. He heard no birds, no signs of life. It was as if the forest itself had died. Then, in the quiet, he heard a noise. It sounded like someone had jumped into the water a few hundred yards away. It became louder, the stalker running through the water toward him.
Alan turned and ran as hard as he could toward his house, his legs trembling. He had never run from anything in his life. After all, he had seen it all – and then some. Against his better judgment he glanced behind him. What he saw frightened him so badly he went sprawling to the ground.
As he looked forward again the hunter appeared in front of him out of nowhere, a make-shift smile across a horribly disfigured face. Alan scrambled to his knees, and then fell backward. He tried to kick his assailant, but instead the predator grabbed his feet and began dragging him back toward the water. Long strands of dirt-laden, white dreads fell across the attacker’s shoulders. Alan grabbed a rock from the ground and hurled it at the back of its large head. It wasn’t even phased by Alan’s weak assault.
The creature threw Alan’s legs to the ground and in a flash pulled Alan upright by his shoulders and lifted him off the ground. Its breath was rancid and its teeth long and rotting. There were no lips, just dried blood around its mouth. The creature’s dead, soulless eyes sent terror racing down Alan’s spine. Licking its teeth with a long, snake-like tongue, it grunted several times. Then it began laughing, a truly sadistic sound. It threw Alan against the rock where he normally sat while fishing, striking his head. He felt the warm trickle of blood on his ear.
The creature abruptly jumped over him, to the top of the rock. Between the terror and the stench, Alan was finding it difficult to breathe. Frozen in fear, pain shot through his chest. He heard the sound of something scraping against the jagged corner of the rock. The sharp, hissing strokes reminded him of when he sharpened his machete. If only I had that machete now! he thought desperately. The sound of raspy, heavy breathing filled the air. It sounded like a demonic chorus of predation.
“Who are you? What are you?” Alan demanded. “What do you want with me?” Alan tried to sit up, but couldn’t muster the strength.
“Look me in the eye goddammit!” The sounds were torturing him. Alan felt sick when he thought of what the monster could be sharpening. And worse, what its plans for him were. He recognized evil when he saw it. Had the darkness of the past returned?
“I’m ready,” Alan whispered to himself. He knew there would be no escape; death was all around him. So he closed his eyes and waited.
* * * * * *
2
Sherriff Anna Blackwood leaned lazily against her cruiser as she waited her for oldest son. Only sixteen, Trevor Blackwood had managed to find himself in detention at least weekly for insubordinate behavior.
Just like his father, she thought to herself. Anna worried about Trevor’s constant struggle to manage his temper ever since her husband had left them high and dry the previous year.
“Mom!” Trevor shouted as he trotted through the massive doors of the small town high school. With short, jet black hair, fiery blue eyes, and that infectious smile, it was difficult for her to believe he was nearly a man. His rigid personality made it difficult for him to date, which quite frankly didn’t bother her much. Anna waited until he got into the car to begin another useless attempt at discipline.
“Trevor, honey,” she began, but was cut off by his deep sighs.
“Really?” he asked. “Another lecture? Maybe I can spare you the time and give you the talking points about how I continue to fail you.”
Anna shook her head. “It’s not about failure, Trevor. I know this past year has been hard. But you’re not the only person in this family. Your brother and sister are hurting, too. But they manage not to find new and exciting ways to undermine their success in school.”
“Yes, mother,” he groaned. “If only I could mirror my siblings in their perfections.” Trevor folded his arms across his chest and stared out the window, his smile replaced by a scowl.
Sometimes I wish he wasn’t so damned brilliant, she mused. By the time he turned ten she knew he was already smarter than everyone around him. Although she, too, had an above average intellect, she couldn’t hold a candle to his aptitude. His disregard for authority figures was matched only by the contempt he harbored for his absentee father.
“Tommy and Trisha are not perfect,” Anna said a little too sharply.
“Tommy got all the good genes in your womb,” Trevor retorted. “I got the shit genes.”
“Language! Besides, your genes are as identical as they can be,” she said matter-of-factly. “Just because you’re twins doesn’t mean one of you got ‘the good genes,’ as you put it.”
He shrugged her off and his gaze returned to the passi
ng trees out the window.
There had been times when having twins was a spectacular phenomenon. But at other times, like the current one, it downright sucked. Just as Anna was about to try to break through Trevor’s shell again, her emergency radio screeched. They both jumped.
“You’d think that by now I would get used to this thing,” she laughed as she looked at the radio. Trevor managed a smile as he shook his head.
“Sheriff?” asked the voice of Janet Rodriguez, the station’s lone operator.
“Yes, Janet,” Anna replied. Who the hell else would it be? she thought.
“Sheriff, we have a 10-54 by the woods,” Janet reported.
“Holy shit!” Trevor cried.
“Language!” Anna commanded.
“But that’s the code for a dead body!” he said with a little too much pleasure for Anna’s comfort.
“Copy that,” Anna acknowledged. “Where?”
“The woods,” Janet repeated.
“Janet, we live in a small town in rural Minnesota. And we just happen to be surrounded by trees.”
“Okay…” Janet said.
“So, when you tell me that the 10-54 is in the woods, where exactly would that be?”
“Off Old Route 32.”
“Janet, for the love of God!” Anna exclaimed. “You are aware that 32 runs through the entire town?”
“Right, sorry. At the end of the road right on the banks of Black Bear River.”
“You mean the old Brickton Estate?” Anna knew that of all the homes in Crimson Falls, only the Brickton Estate sat on the river’s edge.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is it Alan?”
“I’m sorry, Sheriff. I don’t know.”
“Did the body wash ashore?” Trevor asked as he grabbed the radio. Anna smacked his hand away.
“I’m sorry?” Janet asked nervously.
“Do you have any additional information?” Anna pushed.
“Not at the moment. But Jake and Sam are already there.”
“I’m on my way,” Anna promised. She turned on the lights and slammed on the gas.
“Alright!” Trevor laughed.
“This isn’t a movie theater, Trevor,” Anna explained. “We are talking about a human life.”
“Obviously, Mom. It’s not like I am celebrating death. Jesus. I just want to see what it is you do because, you know, I may want to follow in your footsteps.”
Anna wanted so badly to say, Bullshit! but she held her tongue. At the very least they were talking, and that made her happy. Kind of.
“Hold on tight,” she instructed.
Anna knew it wouldn’t take long to drive across town. Having been in law enforcement for twenty years, and sheriff for the last six, she knew almost every family in Crimson Falls. With a population just shy of three thousand people, Crimson Falls was a close-knit, cozy community. Once a successful logging town, the tall pines were now in short supply, leading the sawmills to abandon their original trade and produce pulp, paper, and manufactured building materials. The town’s only claim to fame was that it was one of the coldest regions of the contiguous United States. She was proud that murder and other violent crimes simply didn’t happen in their little slice of frozen Heaven.
“God, there are more squirrels than there are people in this shithole,” Trevor joked. “I know, I know…language.”
Anna couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess it does get a little boring here, doesn’t it?”
Trevor shifted in his seat. “Not when your mom is the sheriff and you get to ride along when stuff goes down.”
“Trevor, nothing is ‘going down.’ Whoever died probably fell into the lake while fishing, was too drunk to swim, and hypothermia got to him before his senses did.”
“True that,” Trevor sighed.
Soon the staccato strobes from the other cruisers came into sight.
“God, sometimes I hate winter,” Trevor complained. “It’s not even dinner time and it’s already half dark out.” As the car slowed down, he took off his seatbelt in anticipation of seeing a dead body.
“I don’t think so, mister,” Anna said as she pulled his arm. He plopped down hard in the seat. “Wait here.”
As she got out of the car, both Jake and Sam began walking toward her.
“Hey boss!” Jake crooned as he rushed past Sam. Jake was in love with Anna and everyone knew it. He was also an asshole.
“What do we know so far?” Anna asked as she walked toward the fresh crime scene.
“It’s Acorn Alan,” Jake said.
“That’s not nice,” Anna whispered.
“Acorn Alan?” Sam asked, confused. Having only moved to Crimson Falls last year, he was still learning the ropes about the townsfolk.
“Acorn, you know, nuts?” Jake answered, twirling his finger around his ear.
“Ah, I see.”
“Yeah, he’s both the village idiot and the village recluse. A two for one deal,” Jake mused. “He was in Vietnam or some shit. Really f’ed him up.”
“Jake, I think you could be a bit more professional when describing the victim,” Anna scolded.
“So he had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, whatever,” Jake sighed. “Psychobabble bullshit if you ask me. The man was a drunk and a prick. A rich prick, too. The worst kind.”
“Takes one to know one,” Anna smirked.
“I’m not rich,” Jake said.
Anna shook her head. “Did he drink himself to death?” she asked, a serious expression returning to her face.
“Not exactly,” Sam mumbled. In the short time since Sam had joined the force, Anna had grown to respect him. A former FBI agent from Chicago, Sam had good instincts and was quick on his feet. He was definitely someone you wanted on the force in times of crisis.
They walked in silence as they moved past the house and into the back yard. A few hundred yards away, by what was probably Alan’s favorite fishing rock, Anna could see what appeared to be his body. As she picked up her pace, the two deputies fell in line behind her.
In the twenty years she had been a cop, she had certainly seen dead bodies. Car accidents, drowning, disease, you name it. But despite her experience she had not yet become desensitized to death. It still struck a deep chord in her every time she saw it. She believed that was what made her a good cop, and an electable sheriff. But the closer she got to Alan’s body, another feeling began to plague her. Dread.
She came to a stop a few feet from the body. Dr. David Styles, the local coroner, had already arrived and was studying Alan for the cause of death. Tall, lanky, with dyed black hair and a thin grey beard, Dr. Styles was the quintessential man of death.
“What can you tell me, David?” Anna asked, trying not to make assumptions. Instinct and intuition told her that Alan had not died from drinking.
“Sheriff, if I may?” Jake interrupted. She waved her hand and gave him the floor.
“From the looks of his head, he fell down and knocked himself out. If the blow to the head didn’t kill him, then he probably froze to death from exposure.”
Anna stifled a small laugh. “I don’t think so, Jake.”
“Why not?” he asked, simultaneously embarrassed and insulted.
Anna knelt down on one knee and pointed toward Alan’s face. “Had he frozen to death, there would be signs.”
“What signs?” Jake asked.
“Well, first of all, the blood would be dry, Einstein,” David joked. After getting no laughter or response, he cleared his throat and continued. “He has only been dead a few hours.”
“Who called this in?” Anna asked, astonished. “Who could have possibly have been all the way out here to check on Alan?”
“Janet said it was an anonymous call,” Sam said as he shrugged his shoulders.
“Well did she get the number of the caller?” Anna asked, perturbed.
“Uh, not sure about that,” Jake shrugged.
“Christ on crutches,�
� Anna mumbled as she looked at David. He smiled.
“As far as I can tell, Mr. Brickton died from this,” David said as he lifted Alan’s head.
“Holy shit!” a voice shouted from behind them. Anna swung around, suddenly aware that Trevor was standing behind them.
“For the love of God, Trevor!”
“I was bored,” he complained.
“I’ve been gone no more than five minutes,” Anna threw back.
“As I was saying,” David interrupted, “I think this is what killed him.”
Everyone leaned toward the coroner to get a better look. As Anna moved forward, she shoved Trevor’s face back.
“You don’t want to see this,” she whispered. Jake stood up and pulled Trevor away from the grizzly scene in front of them.
“Damn,” Sam said as he put his hand over his mouth. Bugs scurried from underneath Alan’s head while others were crawling from the large wound on the back of his neck. Anna was speechless.
“See this?” David asked Anna as he gestured toward the wound.
“What the hell is that?” Anna asked. Protruding from Alan’s neck was a large, yellow object.
“I’m not entirely sure,” David said as he studied it. “But I can’t remove it until we get him back to the morgue.”
“Of course,” Anna said.
“I can tell you one thing for sure,” David said as Anna stood up, folding her arms across her chest. She waited impatiently as he continued to look at the yellow ‘specimen.’
“And that would be?” she pushed.
“He sure as hell didn’t fall on it.”
* * * * * *
3
Trevor did his best to push Jake off him. He refused to be the pawn in this dumb cop’s relentless pursuit of his mother.
“Get off me, jackass,” he shouted as he saw his mother stand up again. She glared at him, just like she always seemed to do.
“Yeah, language, right,” Trevor shot back.
“I’m past the point of giving a shit about that,” Anna barked.