Online Murder Syndicate: The Paranormal Mysteries & Adventures of Special Agent Lou Abrams (The Paranormal Mysteries & Adventure of Special Agent Lou Abrams Book 2)

by Thomas Craig

  I covered the distance in 10 quick steps to find the janitor with a hole in his shoulder and the officer picking up the gun next to him. He was alive and in obvious pain.

  Turning my attention to where Holliday should be, I found him lying on his back inside the container.

  “Holliday!” I called out as I quickly approached him.

  His non-gun hand slowly rose with the index figure pointing up, giving the ‘here’ gesture, but he wasn’t speaking.

  I had my flashlight trained on him, looking him over. Holliday had a grimace look on his face as he fought to catch his breath. I could see the problem now as he tore at his sternum, ripping his cell phone from the spot where it was secured by Velcro to record the scene. Next to where the cell phone was, a slug was embedded in the bulletproof vest that just saved his life. I grabbed his hand and gripped it tight.

  “Stop moving Holliday and just focus on taking a slow breath,” I said as I put my other hand on his shoulder. I could see his eyes looking intensely at me, a second later my stomach flared with immense heat that rushed through me to Holliday. He took a long deep breath and his face started to relax a bit. No one noticed what just happened.

  The officer with Holliday at the time of the shooting told us that as soon as the door was opening, they saw the janitor lifting a gun from his side. The officer did not recall who fired their weapon first. I would send Yates and Lauren our recordings later to be analyzed. Right now, I just wanted to make sure the wounded suspect went to the same hospital as the women, so we could conduct our interviews from the same place.

  Holliday was on his feet now, collecting his cowboy hat, and getting some pats on the back for being a tough S.O.B. He just shook his head and looked at me with gratitude, even though I did not fully heal him.

  As one of the Officers applied a pressure bandage to the janitor’s shoulder, I noticed some ink on the suspect’s neck. I removed my phone from my chest, still recording, and zoomed in on his neck. In uppercase cursive were the letters LLC. Below the letters were two pistols, barrels crossed and a crown underneath them. Only lieutenants or higher in the gang had those tattoos.

  “What do they call you?” I asked.

  “Check the other side pendejo,” He rudely advised me. This was where I found a large tattoo of a black hooded skeleton with a sickle.

  “Holliday! What do you make of that? A black hooded KKK with his tiki torch snuffed out?” I didn’t like being called names, so I messed with him a little as he laid there in pain.

  Holliday started to laugh, then remembered he was supposed to be hurt too. So, he abruptly cut the laugh off with a fake wince.

  “Segador! The Reaper, you idiotas.” He was not amused as he squirmed around wearing the very shackles he brought for the women, which connected his hands to his feet.

  “Attempted capital murder, human trafficking, and probably a list of other criminal charges coming. It seems Segador just ended his life as he knew it. Hey, that’s irony, right?” I asked anyone who may know.

  “I think so. Is wearing his own chain cuffs irony?” Holliday asked as he waved over a medic coming onto the scene. “Or is that just funny? What do you think Labrador?” Holliday asked, further agitating the already irritated gang member.

  Luck was on our side. ‘Segador’ would be traveling to Sentara Port Warwick Hospital where the women were taken earlier.

  As we walked to our car, I sent Lauren and Captain Yates my video and I also gave Lauren the LLC street name “Segador,” along with his real name, Miguel Garcia. Holliday was sending his video as well. We were about 10 feet from the car when I heard Holliday groaning.

  I turned in his direction to find a seven and a half foot tall, glow blue Sky Being standing next to Holliday with one of its hands resting on Holliday’s shoulder.

  Holliday was holding his chest and starting to double over.

  I immediately started to run towards them, which got the attention of what was likely a Zuni God. If this was the same Sky Being I saw on top of Dowa Yalanne, it seemed to have forgotten I can see it.

  It seemed surprised to see me running at it, looking it right in the eyes.

  It released Holliday and sidestepped me with ease. I quickly found myself in the God’s grip as it reached out with its long arm, bringing me to an abrupt halt by my wrist. My upper body stopped, but my legs didn’t get the message. I found myself about 4-feet parallel to the ground before gravity took over.

  When I hit the ground, its hand went from blue to pink to red as it kneeled pinning my wrist to the ground.

  I felt an excruciating sensation traveling through my wrist and up my arm. The pain was becoming unbearable. Instinctively, I grabbed its wrist and squeezed with all my strength, trying to pry my other hand free.

  Its almond-shaped eyes looked relaxed as it held me down, deciding what to do next.

  Fear turned to rage as I saw Holliday on the ground, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

  It triggered a deep, intense burning feeling in my gut. When I released it through my body to my hand, it felt like I was incinerating myself from the inside out.

  My hand glowed red and I felt the God release my wrist and attempt to pull its own hand away. But there we were, kneeling face to face. I was amped up now and felt in control as the Sky Beings’ attempts to pull away from my grip failed. My hand burst into flames that licked at the space between us.

  Its eyes did not look so relaxed now. The flames grew larger before the God’s intolerance of me set in. Fun time was over.

  In a blink of an eye, it grew to double its size and was instantly on its feet again. I found myself still holding onto its wrist but staring into an eye that was now the size of my head as I dangled 7 feet above the ground. With a quick move of its body and arm towards the ground, I was slammed back down, shoulder’s first into the gravel.

  The impact to the ground bent me in half, forcing one knee into my mouth and the other into the ground next to my ear. I still had a vice-like grip on its wrist, and I wanted nothing more than to let go to check if all my front teeth were still in my mouth or if they were in my right knee, but my grip seemed locked.

  “Oh, shit!” I said as I hit the apex of my next body slam to the ground, 18 feet in the air. The sound of my impact as I was flattened into the ground was awful. I wish I had not heard it. I wish I had not felt it. I really wished I could breathe.

  This time, my hand released, and the God stood over me.

  I couldn’t move, which caused fear to rush over me. I was sure every bone in my body was broken.

  The god briefly looked its wrist over, then shrank to its former 7 ½ foot frame and shot into the sky like a bolt of lightning.

  I laid there, unable to even move my head to the right to see if Holliday was still breathing or not. I blinked and felt the pressure of the eyelids closing displace tears from my eyes, which ran over my temples and into my dusty hair.

  I was starting to question whether I was breathing or not when I heard Holliday take in a long breath.

  The god returned. I figured it must have wanted to finish us off. It was by my side with its face over mine. Perhaps Holliday’s movement gave it a reason to return. Whatever the reason, there it was. This is where it would undoubtedly happen. My speculated immortality as a possible demigod was going to be put to test, and if I failed, my life would end. I was broken. Broken so badly that I could not move any limbs to defend myself. I tried, but nothing responded, just flares of intense pain.

  The face and color of the Zuni God was slightly different from when it was destroying me seconds ago. Perhaps it was a different God. Nevertheless, it wasted no time getting its hands on me. Strangely enough, as quick as it touched me, it was gone.

  “Get up Lou, I want to go to the hospital,” Holliday announced. He was patting his chest as if looking for where the pain was a moment ago. I knew this because I could now move my head from side to side, taking in my surroundings. Limbs were responding. That’s good. The
pain was gone. That was good too.

  “I do too Holliday but give me a moment. I just got thrashed,” I said as I gathered myself up off the ground and looked my dusty self over.

  It all happened so fast my head was hazy trying to comprehend what all just took place. My hand caught fire! Holy shit! What was that about?

  It appears the second God, if it was a different God, healed me. It had to be a different one. Just like at Dowa Yalanne, there were two. Perhaps they travel in pairs. Perhaps one took pity on me or was impressed I stood my ground. I didn’t know, but I was happy to be whole again.

  “What are you talking about?” Holliday questioned me. “I started having side effects of that shooting, making it difficult to breathe and you came running over and tripped to the ground while I almost passed out over here,” Holliday recalled. Inaccurately, I might add.

  “Seriously? You didn’t see…I was being thrashed,” I said with hand and arm movements.

  Nothing from Holliday except a blank stare.

  “Alright then, never mind. Let’s just go.” I was puzzled for a second, but it dawned on me that no one could see these beings, even when something was picking me up and slamming me down like an angry kid with a rag doll.

  How crazy would that look to see me float up 18 feet and then smash into the ground? I know I sure as hell didn’t enjoy the experience. It was probably best he did not see the craziness I just went through or saw how terrifying the gods could be.

  I planned to talk it out with Arya later to try to make sense of it all. For now, we got in the car and started our short drive over the mouth of the James River to Port Warwick Hospital to question the women and “Segador” from the Latin Lords Crew.

  The Port Authority vans had arrived at the hospital with the Colombian women about 45 minutes before we pulled in. One Port Officer stayed with them to translate a few conversations, the same officer that ran the captives through the ship showers earlier before placing them into jumpsuits and transporting them here.

  The officer was taking the statements of one young woman who was taken from her family in Colombia a year ago. She described the mansion she stayed in for most of that time. Apparently, if a “guest” of the mansion didn’t appreciate being degraded through prostitution and drugs, that guest ended up covered with excrements while trapped in a cargo container. Not accepting the environment, she woke up on this ship a week ago.

  Nurses had been admitting the former captives who were very dehydrated and malnourished.

  One of the resident nurses, likely the head of the ER nurses, looked us over. She had been directing others but was now giving the two of us her attention.

  “Hi. You boys alright?” She asked, mainly to Holliday as she pointed to the bullet still clearly wedged in his vest.

  Holliday was a loss for words as he looked down at the bullet the nurse now had her index finger on. Before he could protest, she was ripping the Velcro straps open on one side and removing the vest, as if she were familiar with Kevlar and had done this before.

  He started to reach for his hat as if to greet her, but then her hand brushed against his pistol as she removed the vest, this cause Holliday to instinctively drop his hand toward his weapon, but caught himself and started for his hat again. He looked like he was doing jumping jacks with his hands.

  “Relax cowboy,” she said so smoothly that I could see Holliday shrink three inches as he obeyed her command. This earned him a smile from RN Kathy Deos.

  “I got shot...earlier,” Holliday masterfully explained.

  “Yes, I see,” Kathy sympathetically answered with a smile as she lifted his undershirt from both sides of Holliday’s hips, up to his armpits.

  I was sure I almost completely healed him, but there was a huge red and purple spot where the bullet impact left its mark. The only explanation was that the God reversed most, if not all, of my healing when it touched Holliday.

  In that second between unveiling Holliday’s bruises and asking him questions, I reviewed the events from earlier. Why would one God thrash me about and undo my healing of Holliday, while the other heal me seconds later?

  It was not unheard of that Gods were at odds with each other. There were certainly Zuni stories of Gods having different interests. Most stories were about harmony between elements, but in my opinion, some did not add up. Tonight’s punch and kiss; just another example of things not adding up.

  “I want to examine you closely to make sure you don’t have any broken ribs or worse, a diaphragmatic injury. How close was the gun when you were shot?”

  Holliday hadn’t said an intelligent sentence yet in her presence, so I thought I would lend a hand.

  “About 10-12 feet away Ma’am,” I explained.

  “Thank you. Please call me Kathy,” she said over her shoulder to me. She was still looking right at Holliday, who still stood with one hand on his hat, smiling at the nurse. I wanted to laugh at him, but I thought his awkwardness was something the nurse was paying special attention to, and far be it for me to ruin a potential moment between the two.

  “Sure thing, Kathy. I’m Special Agent Lou Abrams, with the FBI. That astute individual that you seem to have put into a trance, is Tom Holliday, US Marshal Service.” This time a small chuckle leaked out as she turned and extended her hand to me. It was a quick and polite exchange.

  Nurse Kathy Deos was in her early forties, a few years older than Holliday. However, when she smiled, she looked at least a decade younger.

  “Twelve feet huh? I would have expected much worse that close. You are really lucky. Let’s run a few tests to be safe, okay?” she said gently as she set up the ultrasound. I started to walk away to continue the dialog with the Port Authority officer and a few of the women getting IV’s.

  “Hold on.” Her voice was still soft, but commanding.

  I started to turn back towards Nurse Kathy, but she stopped me from turning around. Her hands were in my hair behind my ear.

  “Looks like you hit the ground pretty hard, didn’t you, Agent Abrams?” She asked as she plucked a piece of gravel from my scalp.

  “Well, if you ask him,” I said as I pointed to Holliday, “it was nothing. I tripped coming to his aid.” I explained, which got another small laugh from Nurse Kathy.

  “He did,” Holliday proclaimed with a slightly higher than normal pitch in his voice. “I had collapsed and he…” Kathy cut him off.

  “You collapsed?” She asked as she sat him down and started the ultrasound scan of his sternum. A doctor appeared a moment later asking questions as he examined Holliday. I was able to sneak away while all the attention was on Holliday.

  I was back talking with the Port Authority officer who was translating the Colombian woman’s story to me. The young woman was no older than 18 and had endured unforgivable and unforgettable hardships. The mansion she described seemed more like a cartel brothel than a senior Cartel member’s house.

  However, she swore a high ranking Ibagué Cartel member lived in the house and held Cartel meetings once or twice a month. Although most women were not allowed in the meetings, she could hear the owner’s voice throughout most of the meetings and assured us that others listened to him, asked him questions, and valued his ideas.

  There were more than a few well-known Cartel meeting places in obscure Colombian locations, but this one started to sound incredibly unique.

  “¿Qual es el nombre de los propietarios de la casa?” The officer asked the woman.

  “Senor Zapata!” She answered with certainty.

  “Please ask her Mr. Zapata’s full name?” I was encouraged she actually had a name. I was not as well versed as others in the Cartel families and names, so Zapata meant nothing to me, but hopefully, it was helpful.

  “¿Cual es su nombre completo?” The officer asked.

  “Ahh. Eh…Tazario. Si, Tazario Zapata,” the young woman recalled.

  Her words straightened my spine. Could it be that we now have the full name of one of the quickest rising mem
bers in the Ibagué Cartel? Likely the member single-handedly responsible for transforming the Ibagué Cartel’s financial and technical frameworks in the last few years.

  “¿Donde esta su casa?” I didn’t know much Spanish, but I picked up a little growing up in New Mexico and taking a couple of years of it in High School and College in Arizona. The excitement of this news about Tazario Zapata just brought the question out of me in Spanish. I had to know more, especially the location of his house.

  “No se. Algo en la selva cerca de Santa Marta. Condujimos cuesta abajo hasta el barco y nos llevo unos 40 minuto,.” she replied.

  “She’s not sure, but she says it is just outside Santa Marta. It must be in the hills as it was a steep drive and took about 40 minutes,” the officer explained.

  I could work with this information. I know Lauren and her supercomputer and programs could do wonders with this information too. It was time to collect Holliday and plan our next move.

  I found Holliday and Nurse Kathy Deos still talking in the exam room. The Doctor had come and gone, leaving satisfied that Holliday would be fine. Holliday was dressed, vest and hat in hand, grinning widely as he finished saying something to Kathy.

  “Will he survive, Kathy?” I asked as I finished my approach.

  “He sure will. Ultrasound was clear.”

  “That’s good because we have some leads to follow up on,” I announced.

  Holliday gave me a nod and proceeded to put his hat and vest back on, as he started to walk out of the exam room.

  I looked at Kathy shaking my head as if apologizing for Holliday.

  “Hey,” I said stopping Holliday. “You want a second to say a proper goodbye? She seems to be interested in you,” I shared.

  “You think so?”

  Holliday was acting like he was the one dropped from 18-feet on his head.

  “Yes. A blind man could have noticed.” I said almost shoving him her way. She was still smiling and waiting patiently for Holliday.

  I said “thank you” to Nurse Kathy and found a quiet place to make some calls and wait for Holliday.