SPENCER CALLAGHAN : The Fight for Heaven and Earth

by Ryan Conway

  Dr. Simmons returned to the room carrying a clipboard full of documents. Greeting the new arrival politely, he handed the paperwork to Aunt Sandra. "Discharge papers," he explained. "No reason to keep Spencer here."

  "Do you need me to step out for a moment?" Tom asked.

  "Actually, we're pretty much done here. I'm releasing Spencer from the hospital as soon as I get a signature," Dr. Simmons replied. Tom took a seat on the other side of the bed next to the table as Dr. Simmons advised Aunt Sandra and Spencer to follow up with him if there were any further problems or questions about the medication. Then he shook their hands again and bade them farewell. They thanked the doctor for his care, and said their own goodbyes.

  "So, what do you have to do now?" Tom asked after Simmons was gone.

  "Well, we have to pick up Spencer's medicine downstairs first," Aunt Sandra replied, "and then we're heading home. You're welcome to come with. I'll just go out in the hall to call George to come pick us up." She figured this would give Spencer an opportunity to talk to Thomas alone, and she wasn't even out the door before Tom was grilling her nephew about what had happened the night before.

  It didn't take long to tell, and Spencer didn't leave anything out. When he finished, Tom just stared at him, openmouthed. When he finally found his voice, he asked, "You said that Drake… changed. What do you mean, he changed?"

  "I told you—he became almost, I don't know, reptilian. And he was really strong." Spencer sighed. "You'd probably think I'm crazy. I'm even starting to think maybe I was hallucinating, but I saw him get taller, change color, and grow claws and fangs."

  Tom just stared at Spencer expressionlessly.

  "Then he started fighting with some invisible force, and destroyed my aunt and uncle's house before the dogs chased him off."

  "Did anyone else see him?" Tom asked. "That way, I mean. Who else have you told about what you saw?"

  "I tried to tell Uncle George, Aunt Sandra, and Pastor Meadows, but that didn't go over too well. They all probably think I'm crazy, and Pastor Meadows thinks I'm into voodoo or that my medallion is cursed or something. And he had some nasty things to say about my dad." Spencer scowled. "But I'm the only one who witnessed everything before Drake ran off, so I suppose I can understand why they're freaked out by what I told them. My family called the cops to the house and had to file a missing person's report on Drake." Spencer looked up at Tom with a frightened look in his eyes. "Now the police want to talk to me about what happened—and I can't tell them about the monster or the invisible force. They'll think I'm lying or nuts."

  As always, Tom stepped up and morally supported Spencer in his time of need. "Spence, we can come up with an explanation for the police that tells them exactly what happened, but without including all the strange details, so they can swallow the story and accept it."

  "Does that mean you believe me?" Spencer asked. "Because like I said, I'm not even sure I believe it now."

  "Of course I believe you. We live in a weird world, and I personally believe that what we see on a daily basis is only the tip of the iceberg of reality." Tom looked Spencer straight in the eyes. "I won't write you off as crazy just because you experienced something that we can't explain. Yet."

  Spencer was incredibly relieved by Tom's response. "Thank you," he breathed.

  "Don't worry. We have plenty of time to figure out how to explain what happened before you get back home."

  Chapter Five

  Police Interview

  T he day after Spencer returned home from the hospital, an officer from the West Augusta Police Department was scheduled to visit the house. Even though the police had already inspected the scene the night he was transported to the hospital, they still hadn't interviewed Spencer about Drake's disappearance—and Drake had yet to reappear.

  After returning from the hospital, Spencer had spent the rest of the day recuperating and cleaning up his wrecked bedroom. Since the police investigation had already been completed, he figured he wouldn't be tampering with a crime scene if he straightened up. Naturally, all the structural damages to the house was still quite evident, including the dent in the sheetrock of Spencer's room where Drake had hit the wall.

  Tom arrived at their house early the next morning to consult with Spencer before his interview. Although he hadn't been present to witness the ordeal, he trusted Spencer, and wanted to help him figure out a reasonably acceptable way to present his account. They sat together on the front porch discussing the scenario for a couple of hours, and Spencer couldn't help but repeat, "Tom, I'm absolutely certain I saw what I told you I saw the other night. I know it sounds insane, but it's the honest truth. You gotta believe me."

  "I do believe you," Tom said, looking at him steadily. "But the police won't. They depend on hard facts and physical evidence, and the more complicated and unusual a case is, the longer it's going to take them to solve. That's going to affect your life now and down the road both."

  "I just feel like I shouldn't have to lie about it," Spencer said, sighing as his shoulders drooped. "If I saw something, I should be allowed to tell my story. Isn't that the only way for anybody to get honest answers?"

  "There might be a way we can maintain the story without delving into the paranormal aspect of it," Tom replied.

  "How?"

  "Whether Drake transformed or not, he was still after you, right?"

  "Yes," Spencer replied, feeling a frisson of the fear he'd felt that night. "No doubt about it."

  "And you said he was after your medallion, right?" Tom continued.

  "Definitely."

  "And you also said he started battling an invisible force."

  "Yes. Something I couldn't see, anyway."

  Thomas paused for a moment of reflection. "Well, how about this?" he said with a more confident look in his eyes. "Forget about Drake's physical transformation, and just say you think Drake was in your room to steal money and personal items."

  "Okay, but what about that voice that woke me up? Should I give an explanation for that?"

  Tom pondered the situation for a moment, then asked, "Was it dark in your room? Were the lights out?" When Spencer nodded, Tom continued, "Then just tell them that Drake accidentally woke you up. He could've smacked his leg on something in the dark and cussed out loud or something."

  Spencer's face lit up. "Yeah, that's a good one."

  "Now as for the invisible force…" Tom began.

  "Masked men," Spencer suggested, with more enthusiasm than before. "I can say there was a masked man dressed all in black who attacked Drake."

  "Okaaayyyy," Tom said slowly. "But what was the masked man doing there?"

  "How should I know? What was the invisible force doing in my room?"

  "Touché," Tom said, chewing on his fingernail. "It's still weird."

  "Don't partners in crime squabble and fight sometimes?" Spencer asked rhetorically. "No honor among thieves, and all that? I wouldn't have known what they were fighting about either way."

  Tom smirked proudly at Spencer. "Good. You're getting the hang of it." Then he became a bit more serious. "But you have to remember that. Above all, you have to remember that you know very little about why it happened; just focus on the physical aspect of it, minus all the paranormal trappings. And remember to be confident. Don't be intimidated because you're being interviewed by a cop."

  "Got it. Thanks for helping me out."

  "What are friends for?" Tom winked. "Besides, we're supposed to be going off to college together soon to start the next chapter of our lives, and I don't want anything holding you back here—not even lizard men fighting invisible ninjas."

  As he spoke those words, Spencer's aunt exited the house and looked over at them; given her look of concern, Spencer had to wonder if she'd heard what he'd just said. "Good morning, Tom." she said brightly.

  "Morning, Mrs. Beck," he replied.

  "Spencer, can we speak to you for a moment inside?" Aunt Sandra asked. "It's about your interview later."


  "Absolutely. Be right in." After she turned and walked back inside, Spencer asked Tom, "Do you have to go anytime soon?"

  "Don't worry, Spence. I'll be here… Go see what your folks need." With that, Spencer stood up and followed Aunt Sandra into the house.

  When Spencer walked into the kitchen, Uncle George was sitting at the table. Aunt Sandra pulled the chair out across from him and took a seat. They both looked up at Spencer as he stood in the doorway. "Here, come sit down," Uncle George said, gesturing to the chair closest to Spencer at the end of the table. He walked over, pulled the chair out, and took his seat.

  "So, I was thinking about what to say during my interview." Spencer said.

  "Yeah, so were we." Uncle George said. "We were thinking it's probably best if you, uh, well, change some details of your story."

  "Only to make it more palatable for the authorities," Aunt Sandra added.

  "How do you mean?" Spencer asked innocently.

  "Just give your account without the… the strange business." Uncle George said. "Tell them what happened, but leave out the evil spirits and demonic possession."

  Spencer paused to look at them in turn before he "reluctantly" nodded.

  "Are you okay with that, Spencer?" Uncle George asked, a little anxiously. "Just so you know, it's not that we don't believe you..."

  Spencer looked at them with a slight smile. "I know… and I understand."

  "It's just that the account you gave us raises more questions than it answers," Aunt Sandra noted. "And the general public usually isn't sure how to process the supernatural."

  "They're police," Uncle George stated. "Not priests."

  "Actually, I've been giving a lot of thought about how I'm going to present my account," Spencer told them, to see how they'd respond.

  "Don't tell them you saw Drake morph into some creature, or that he started fighting an invisible force."

  "No, I wasn't going to mention that." Spencer reassured them. "I sort of figured it would be better to only mention the attempted theft."

  "Okay, good," Uncle George responded. "And if they ask about the fighting and the damage and the fact that Drake ran off?"

  "Masked men showed up and fought with Drake," Spencer replied. "Two of them."

  "Masked men? Why?"

  "No idea," Spencer said calmly. "Maybe they were working with Drake and they got in a dispute over what they were stealing. I don't know." Spencer pondered the plausibility of his own story for a moment. "Would they expect me to know why?" he asked. "Either way, I have no clue what was happening or why. The only difference is, the true story is a lot more frightening."

  Suddenly Tom appeared in the entrance to the kitchen, and everyone looked up at him from the table. "I'm sorry to interrupt, folks, but the police officer is here for Spencer's interview," he informed them.

  Aunt Sandra got up immediately to answer the door; the officer was just walking across the porch towards the door when she showed up to greet him. "Morning, ma'am, I'm Officer Bennett," the policeman introduced himself. "Is this the Beck residence?"

  Aunt Sandra admitted that it was.

  "I'm here to interview a Spencer Callaghan to hopefully shed more light on the case of a missing man named Drake Fulton. Is he here?"

  "He's right this way, in the kitchen." Officer Bennett thanked her and followed her the rest of the way. As he entered the kitchen, he greeted the others and introduced himself once more before looking directly at Spencer. "And are you Spencer Callaghan?"

  "Yessir."

  Uncle George stood up from the table and offered the policeman his chair; but Officer Bennett said he preferred to stand. Spencer remained seated; his aunt and uncle moved away but remained standing nearby, in case they needed to supply information of their own. After all, the police had never had the opportunity to interview Aunt Sandra, since she'd been at the hospital the entire night with Spencer. They'd surely want to ask her a few questions, even though she hadn't been awake for all the action.

  The interview went about the way they'd expected. Spencer told the story as he and Tom had rehearsed it, while Officer Bennett scribbled in a notebook and asked a few follow-up questions. Spencer was nervous only once, when he was describing the fight. Bennett looked at him shrewdly and said, "This brawl between Fulton and someone else. Can you elaborate on that? Who was he fighting with, exactly?"

  "I don't know," Spencer answered instantly. "He was dressed in all black and wore a mask."

  "What kind of mask was it?"

  "A black or dark gray ski mask."

  "Did you tell your uncle about the masked man?"

  Good question. Spencer remembered telling his family what he'd really witnessed, but of course there were no masked men involved. "Um, I don't think I did," he replied after a long moment. "Everything was happening so fast that I forgot to mention a lot of details before I ended up at the hospital."

  "But you did mention there was another person besides Drake, and they started fighting."

  "Yes, I think so. But I forgot about the mask."

  The officer pounced on that. "You forgot?"

  Spencer glanced over at Thomas, who was standing in the entrance to the kitchen. As he looked back at Spencer, Tom lightly closed his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nostrils, exhaled slowly out his mouth, gestured with his hands like a symphony conductor, and reopened his eyes. Officer Bennett seemed slightly entertained, and even smiled at Tom's silent effort to calm his best friend's nerves. "Spencer, please don't feel nervous," Bennett addressed him with a smile. We're just trying to get to the bottom of this, with as accurate an account from your perspective as possible. And I'm trying to help you jog your memory."

  "Yes, I forgot to mention the mask to my uncle," Spencer admitted.

  Bennett continued with the interview, which lasted about 30 minutes, and Spencer was able to answer the rest of the questions without getting too flustered, though he felt a flutter of fear when the officer mused, "It almost sounds like the masked man or men were protecting you. Did it seem that way to you?"

  "I don't know," Spencer said honestly, adding a little less-than-honestly, "I just figured they and Drake had a falling out, or something."

  After the questioning was over, Spencer led Officer Bennett through the living room, where some of the damage from the other night was still apparent. They then ascended the stairs, where more damage was evident along the wall and banister, followed by Uncle George and Aunt Sandra. As they reached the top of the staircase, they continued down the hallway toward the open door of Spencer's bedroom. Officer Bennett immediately started examining the wall and jotting notes down in his report. "I take it this dent in the wall was from the struggle?" Bennett asked.

  "Yessir."

  "You said you weren't involved in this struggle at all, right?" the policeman continued. "Only Fulton and the masked intruder?"

  "I wasn't involved," Spencer reiterated. "Only they were fighting."

  Officer Bennett ran the palm of his hand over three long slashes running diagonally across the large indentation in the wall. "Spencer, did you happen to notice either Drake or the other assailant using knives or blades of any kind?" he asked.

  Spencer remembered Drake's grotesque claws after his transformation, but he couldn't mention that to the officer—or the sparks bursting everywhere when Drake and the invisible force where fighting downstairs. As far as witnessing actual blades, Spencer was able to answer honestly, "No sir, nothing like that."

  Officer Bennett pulled his hand away from the wall and jotted several more lines, then walked over to the bedside where the nightstand stood. "Is this where he was standing when you woke up?"

  "In that general area, yes."

  "And when did you first notice him standing here?"

  "I didn't see him until I turned the light on." Spencer responded. He laid down on his bed in order to reenact the moment. When Spencer jumped up to switch the light on, he said, "Then I turned around really quickly to see who had yelled, and th
ere was Drake right about where you're standing now."

  "And the masked man? Where was he standing?"

  "Over on the other side of the room, only I didn't notice him at first because I was focused on Drake, who started coming at me." Spencer pondered the situation for a second. "Then the guy in the ski mask all of a sudden drove him into the wall like a linebacker." Spencer looked down at the floor, recalling the actual event in his mind. "That's when Drake dropped my medallion, and I grabbed it before I took off down the hallway."

  Officer Bennett flipped through the previous pages of his notebook, looking back over his notes. He studied his final entry one last time before flipping the notebook closed and pocketing it along with his pen. He looked up at Spencer first and then glanced around the room at everyone else. "Well, I think I've got enough information at the moment. If you think of anything else to add or come across any more information regarding Mr. Fulton's whereabouts or the other assailants, please call me." He handed Spencer a business card.

  "One more thing," the officer said. "I understand you're leaving for college out of state soon. I don't want you to worry about having to stay in the state. So just proceed with your plans as you've intended. If we have any more questions, we'll know how to contact you." With those words, Officer Bennett bade everyone farewell and departed with an actual eyewitness account of the puzzling events, and a more extensive police report than before.

  Chapter Six

  Campus and Coffee

  I t had been a quiet few weeks since what Spencer had come to think of as "the Drake Incident," and now he and Tom were headed North. After a long, scenic drive into upstate New York, they finally arrived in the town of Claremont. It was an upscale village, really, with historical streets, red-brick sidewalks lined with maple trees, and an assortment of classy restaurants, delis, coffee shops, specialized stores, and small businesses. All public areas were clean and well maintained. Branches of enormous oak trees stretched over Main Street like a high, green canopy, but copious sunbeams passed through the leaves, pleasantly painting the road in dappled shade.