So many questions and they're all the wrong ones, James thought.
James Night remained quiet, as he surveyed the cemetery, using the scope attached to his combination rifle and double barrel shotgun. He wore his usual black leather jacket, tie, slacks and white shirt.
A silver badge hung over his bulletproof vest. He grabbed on to the metal on his chest, as if he wasn't sure it was real. James was 38 years old and a good-looking man who appeared younger than he really was. His hair was neatly combed to one side and his face was shaved and clean.
"Come on Detective, tell me. Can you hear anything out there or what? We have to find her, man."
"Why?"
"So, she can lead us to her killer."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? Stop asking why, God damn it! She's my daughter, man. We have to do this for her mother, for her brother, for me...for everyone who has ever loved her."
"I loved her."
"I don't want to hear it. I already told you. For Christ's sake, my daughter deserves justice, not your empty words."
The Captain's words stung James. He loved Charlene and he hated it when anyone said different.
"How do you know that she's out there, Captain?"
"Believe me. She's out there. I know it."
"You buried her out there. Didn't you?"
The Captain remained quiet.
James continued on, "You really are desperate aren't you.
"We don't have time to argue about methods, Detective. You of all people should talk. Just do your thing."
"You haven't the slightest idea about what my thing is? Do you, Captain?"
"What do you mean?"
"You don't understand how it works."
"You mean, how you work."
"Sure. You don't understand how I work. You just want me to do something."
"You're right. I don't know how yoyo work. So, tell me."
"As soon as Charlene died, we had a window of at least 36 hours to make contact with her spirit."
"You mean, you had a 36 hour to hear from her."
"Yes Captain, me. That is the way it has worked for most of my life."
"That's how you worked those murder cases without me knowing? I knew that there was something up with you."
"Yeah, 36 hours after the time of death is all I have to make contact..."
"...with Charlene. Why 36?"
"That is how long it takes for all the cells in her body to completely die. At the end of 36 hours, there is nothing left of her to keep her spirit bounded to this world."
"And after that?"
"Then, she's as good as gone and onto the next world."
"What world?"
"I don't exactly know. When a person dies, the dead usually go through a chasm of white light and I never hear from them again. They leave this world and that's it."
"And what? That's it? She gone."
In that moment, The Captain felt terrible, as if he were going to throw up. He was reeling at the thought of losing his daughter for a second time. The Captain wiped the sorrow from his brow and kept his eyes on the back of James head.
"Yes Captain. That's how it goes for everyone. 36 hours. No exceptions."
"And What? We're left with nothing to go on, no clue, nothing that will lead us her killer. We can't let that happen, Detective. I can't let that happen."
"Why. She's already dead, sir. She's at peace, now."
"Don't be callous. We have to try."
"Try for what? She's gone."
"What about the next woman that gets murdered in Woodside. I don't want that kind of blood on my hands."
"Me neither. But..."
"But nothing. Just stick to the plan, James. I'm sure that you will hear from her. And I know that she can lead us to her killer. She'll take us right to him. Don't you want that?"
"It's not about what I want. I told you that we are out of time. It's been more than 36 hours, since you found her in that dumpster on 34th Street. It's over. She's gone."
"You really don't have a conscience James. Do you? I thought you loved her. Don't you love her?"
"It's not that, Captain. I just can't let my emotions interfere with the job, with my judgement. I need a clear head when I'm working a case. Like you are."
"Shut up James. I don't care about what you need. Just kept an ear out for her. You need to find her or..."
"But captain, the window is closed. I'm not going to hear from her or anybody else, out there."
"I don't care. Keep searching. I'm sure that my little girl will come to me."
"Besides Captain, what if she doesn't want to tell us anything? What if, she just wants to stay quiet? What if she wants to stay hidden somewhere inside the cemetery? What if all she wants to do is forget about all the terrible things that happened to her and just go away, peacefully?"
The captain remained quiet, while James looked into the cemetery for Charlene.
"Captain. Sometimes, the dead want that too."
Six
Even Dead Birds Sing
As the pain pulsated through James's lower back, he looked as hard as he could into the cemetery. He was scared of what else Brutus might do, if he didn't keep him searching for her.
Then, he blinked and the pain drove him somewhere else. In that instant when his eyes where closed the pain tucked at his heart and an image popped into his head. He saw a single strand of long black hair slowly floating downward. The light gleamed along her hair and it filled him with nostalgia. He no longer felt like the need to scream or move an inch. Instead, he kept his ground and bit his lower lip. He bit his lip hard, until it bled, until her strand of hair flew away and disappeared.
"Damn it! There's nothing out there," James told Brutus. "Hurting me isn't going to make me find her any faster. Don't you get it?"
"I doubt that very much. She's already talking to you. Isn't she? Call to her to me. Bring her to me. I know that you can do it." Brutus's eyes were wild. There was nothing going to stop him from being with her again.
James wasn't going to say anything about her or about what was really going on out there in the cemetery. Brutus didn't need to know.
I'm stronger than him, stronger than the dead, James thought.
James dropped the scope, provoking Brutus further. He was done pretending to look for her or anyone else. Either way, he could not keep Her out of his head. The pain had led him directly to Her, to the woman who shall not be named.
"Call to Her! James," said Brutus.
James remained quiet and his knees buckled. It was over for him and he knew it. As soon as the sun was gone, he was sure that he was as good as dead.
Stop it, James. Don't do that. Don't quit, she said.
He remembered her words. She had once said those words to him, while they worked on a murder case. He was helping her search for a killer and they ran into trouble. One night, they were in an old warehouse and a moment later, he was shot in the stomach. He felt like he was hit with a sledge hammer. Blood dripped through his fingers and he knew that he was going to die. The funny thing was that he wasn't even a cop. She was. She was just starting out.
As he kept bleeding out, she helped him inside the car and they sped toward the hospital.
You can't quit, James. You have to make it. You're going to make it.
Why, he asked Her. Why? He was delirious.
Because you have to find out the answer to your question, the one question that's been haunting you for so long, the one question that you've tried to forget about so many times. But you can't. It's the one question comes back to you like a message in a bottle floating back to to the shore.
James's guts felt like they were being twisted apart. He swallowed the pain as he listened to her. He held on to her hand that slipped away several times, while she drove. If he was going to die, he was happy to feel her warmth, before sliding into the darkness.
Why, should I care about the question anymore? He asked her. If anything, I can die peaceful
ly and not care about anything anymore.
You have to find out the reason why you're this way. Why can you hear the dead?
So, you finally believe me?
Of course, I do. How else do you think, we caught that last murderer.
I don't think I'm going to make it.
You can't give up. You have to fight. You have to find out the answer to your question. There has to be some kind of purpose for the things that you can do. You're not just here just to help me solve these murder cases. There has to be something more to it than that. And I'll help you find out whatever that answer is.
The sharp pain returned James's back. "Call to Her, James." said Brutus.
"Wait a minute, damn it. Just give me a second."
Again, James peered into the land of skulls using the scope attached to the rifle. He was looking for a solution more than anything else. His eyes bounced around from one tombstone to the other. The whole time, he avoided the dead that walked around their own shallow graves in a stupor, wondering what was happened to themselves.
James especially made sure to avoid the thing that he saw earlier. It stared at him from the shadows.
Out there, there was a dead boy who stared at him from underneath the heavy shadow of an oak tree. The boy was in his pajamas, covered in a pink plush fur, from head to toe with a pair of rabbit ears. He must have been 6 or 7 years old. James skimmed pass him, hoping to not dwell on him. But, he couldn't help notice the boy's face, especially his eyes. They were a pale white. James Stop it, he thought to himself and quickly looked away from the boy.
In that instant, the sharp pain returned in his lower back.
There's nothing out there, he told himself. Nothing. There was no little boy out there. And most importantly, She wasn't out there either. She was dead and gone, just like the rest of them.
As the sun descended, James stood on the police car and he no longer saw the cemetery, as he did when he was a child. But, he tried. He tried to remember something normal, something sane.
Another strand of her hair, fell in front of his face. Back to Her he went. He remembered Her hair, soft, curly, vibrant. He remembered spending time with Her and a couple of Her cop friends at a bar. Tonight, they celebrated getting a murderer off the streets. After several rounds drinks, he and Her went home. They walked along Queens Boulevard and there were streaks of white and red lights racing pass them. Along the way they passed a old movie theater.
James remembered their time together. But he did not picture Her face. It was important that he didn't. Instead, he imagined walking behind Her. He remembered her curly black hair bouncing up and down on her smooth brown shoulders. He missed the deep curves of her slim figure. He missed the way Her hips moved side to side with every step.
With every detail that came back to him, he refused to remember her name, her face.
In front of the movie theater, She asked him about his childhood. And he told Her about a time in Chicago when he was about 5 years old, when he used to take long walks with her. He remembered those times fondly.
On those long walks, we sometimes passed by Graceland Cemetery. That was an old cemetery that was only a few block away from where I grew up as a kid. When I saw that cemetery for the first time, I didn't think much about it. I didn't even notice it.
You mean, you couldn't always talk to the dead?
No. I don't think so. When I looked at the cemetery back then, there was nothing there, but stone and grass. The dead meant nothing to me. I didn't realize how happy I was until, now.
Why?
Because I felt normal. The cemetery was just a place filled with inert stones engraved with long forgotten names. And that's all. I never knew how good I had it.
But now? It's different.
Different to say the least.
James? When did it all change? Her eyes went sweet.
No. Don't think about her eyes, he told himself. But she were sweet. She asked because she was genuinely interested in him and she was curious about what type of man he was. Besides, they were more like friends back then.
James? When did things change?
Again, James thought back to his time in Chicago, where he was born and raised. He lived in the neighborhood of Lakeview in a tall apartment building with 28 stories. It towered over the other residential buildings in the area. He lived in the corner unit on the 3rd floor, where Halsted, Broadway and Grace Street met.
Tell me James. When did it all change for you?
I don't know. I remember living with my parents and two sisters back in Chicago. The apartment building we used to live in had this stairwell that we always used to take. It was faster than using the elevators because our apartment was right next to it. I remember that it was a grey. And it sometimes smelled of urine and pot.
James remembered going to the 27th floor with his sisters to see the Cubs play in Wrigley Field. The stadium was only a few block away and he heard die hard Cub fans all the way to the 27th floor. The baseball field looked like the size of a checker board and he couldn't see the players that well. But sometimes, he could make out the game with a pair of binoculars.
Suddenly, the stadium disappeared and cemetery came back into focus.
Brutus stayed quiet and James went back to his pond of memories filled with thick black swirly bush strokes.
James heard Her voice, again.
When did you realize that you were...different, James? Tell me.
I don't know. I was a kid. I was walking with my mother down Clarke Street in Chicago. I was heading to Rainbow Rollerskating Ring for a pizza party. The party was for my friend, Dean. On the way there, we passed by Graceland Cemetery. We heard the baseball stadium erupt with cheering fans as we passed the by the black gates of the cemetery. I think it was at that moment when everything changed for me. In fact, I'm sure of it. It was at that moment when there was an idea implanted in my head, a question that I still have not answered.
And what happen, James?
Well, I was walking with my mother to the party and there was a moment there, when I thought I heard something.
Like what?
I don't know. It came from inside the cemetery. It was as if the wind had a voice of its own. It was weird and I didn't know how to explain it. So, that's how I dismissed it. It was just the wind I said and I kept walking.
James was a kid back then. If his abilities had been a little farther along, he would have recognized that it wasn't the wind. He would have clearly heard the voice of an old man who was buried in Graceland just a day before. He would have heard the old man's footsteps follow James and his mother on other side of the gate of the cemetery.
If his abilities were even more developed, he would have been able to see the old man walking as if he had never died. He would have seen a glow about his skin, as the old man talked about all the bad things that he did while he was alive. He would have seen the old man kneeling on his grave, asking for penance.
On top of that, the pain in his back returned with the sound of Brutus's voice. "James, make contact with her. Bring her to me."
James's ribcage shook with the sound of the Brutus's voice. He didn't want to die, not here and not like this. He had failed to reason with Brutus and now he had to try another tactic. He had no other choice, but to keep playing Brutus's game. As long as Brutus held the gun, there was nothing that he could do.
"I'll trying Brutus. I promise. I'm trying. I'll bring her to you. But, it's just..."
James knew that it was already too late to catch "Her" spirt. But, he couldn't bring that up again. It would make Brutus more upset and unstable. He was sure that she was already gone and that she had already gone through the passage of white light and into another world. He hoped that the next world was more merciful to Her, than this one.
"It's just what, James? Spit it out."
"It's just I never thought that I'd be back here, standing in front of a cemetery. That's all. I never wanted to come back here."
"Fu
ll circle, huh?
"Sort of. More like a bad case of Déjà vu, though. I never wanted to come back here, to the the cemetery or to any cemetery, for that matter. For me, there are just too many bad memories that these kinds of places hold."
"But, that's how it goes James. You can run as far as you want. You can even change your name. But, you can't run away from your past. No matter how much you try, you can't run away from who you really are. Eventually you just end up where you started because your lost. Because the first step of your journey started with a lie. It's like building a foundation made of sand."
"Apparently, your right." James looked around at where he was and he could not help but agree with Brutus.
"But, that sucks, Brutus. I feel terrible every time I think about it. All I ever wanted to do was just get away from all of this. That's all."
"Sure, it sucks. But, that's how it goes for people like you."
"People like me?"
Brutus stayed quiet and James went back to his pond of memories filled with thick black swirly bush strokes.
James heard Her voice, again.
The wind huh?
Yeah. It was just the wind. But there was more. I just never wanted to admit it, until now.
James heard Brutus's voice and it pulled him from the edge of the black pond of past things. "Yeah, people like you. Especially, people like you, James."
"What do you mean?"
"You're a freak, James. Don't you know that? How many times do I have to tell you? My God, there were so many times, when I told Her that you were trouble."
"How? You didn't even know me."
"I didn't have to know you. Since the day she told me about you, I knew that there was something wrong with you. I knew that you would get her into trouble. I knew that you would get her killed.
"I didn't..."
"Stop! You owe me. Find Her. Bring her to me."
James ignored Brutus. He didn't want to think about Her, anymore. But, he couldn't help himself.
It was only for a second. But he was back with her. He went back to the first time he realized that he was different from the other kids. The first time he acknowledged his curse.
The Dead Never Die Page 4