by C R Langille
He parked the car next to an old-looking gas pump and got out. At first, he stared in amazement at the old contraption in front of him. The pump looked like it should have been in a museum instead of in service. That amazement turned to frustration as he tried to pump gas into the vehicle to no avail. He fidgeted with the levers on the machine but couldn’t coax any fuel out. Finally, the pressure in his bladder was too much, and he gave up on the gas.
A dreadful sense of unease attacked his senses as soon as he stepped into the store. It was as if a million pairs of eyes were watching him from the dark recesses of the building. The air was heavier and stale, like the environment itself was rotting in decay.
There was a young blonde woman behind the counter watching him, her expression blank and unreadable. He walked past and threw her a nod. Her dark eyes followed his movements. He decided to get his business done quickly and get the hell out of the place.
Garrett finished and walked out of the restroom. The woman was nowhere to be seen. He figured he had enough gas, and it was past time to go. He opened the door, stepped out into the open air, and made a straight line for the rental car.
“Ain’t you gonna buy something?”
Garrett jumped and spun around. His heart was pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. The blonde woman was standing outside the door smoking a cigarette.
“Excuse me?” he stammered.
“You gotta’ buy something if you’re gonna’ use the facilities. Store policy,” she said emphasizing the word ‘facilities’ like it was a new plaything she just discovered.
“Uh, I don’t need anything, though. Can we let it slip? I’m in a real hurry.”
“‘Fraid not mister. You best buy something. Else things will get…” she inhaled a big lungful of smoke, “…scary,” she exhaled.
The spark in the woman’s eyes coupled with the sly grin was enough to give him the creeps. Garrett didn’t spook easily, but something about this place put him on edge. The place was off, and his body screamed at him to leave as quick as possible. He had a feeling the punishment for not honoring the store’s rules didn’t involve the authorities.
“Fine.”
He walked back into the store and instantly wished he hadn’t. A slight tremor in his knees worked its way to his hands. Garrett wanted to leave, so he grabbed the first item within reach and proceeded to the cash register.
The woman watched him like a chicken hawk from outside. The expressionless look she wore earlier was now replaced with a studious inspection. She took her time finishing the cigarette, and Garrett was about to leave, consequences be damned, when she came back into the building.
Without a word she rang up his purchase and bagged it. He paid for it and was halfway out the door when she said, “Have a nice time in Canyon Shadows.”
He was a mile down the road before he even noticed what he had bought. Looking into the plain brown bag, he saw a bottle of Cacique brand rum. Out of all the things to buy, out of all the liquors in the world, the unique brand of rum stared up at him from inside the brown paper hiding place. As he contemplated what it meant, the town of Canyon Shadows crept into view.
***
The clerk at the Buena Vista Motel mentioned a strange looking man checked into room 211 under the name of Special Agent Doyle L. Johnson.
“What agency did he say he was with?” Dan asked.
“Didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”
Dan had commandeered the manager’s key and proceeded to room 211. There wasn’t much in the room, especially no one dressed like the suspect at large. Dan found over a dozen used up rolls of duct tape. Whatever the man did with it, he had burned through the rolls without leaving a scrap of tape behind.
Along with the used tape rolls, Dan found a notebook. Inside the notebook, there were drawings of the cliff dwellings nearby. The drawings ranged from sloppy doodles done in crayon to very elegant pieces of art which looked almost photorealistic. A phrase in poor script was scrawled on every picture. “Charlie Protocol, wrong time, bad place. Soon.” He collected the notebook as evidence.
He left the motel and let Brent know to swing by throughout his shift and check to see if anyone was in the room. Dan drove to Crispy’s Beef n’ Beer Shack. It was one of those hole in the wall, out-of-the-way local’s favorite type of places. It had some of the best BBQ pork in the state as far as Dan was concerned. But for a quick fix, Crispy’s served a mean cup of coffee.
Something about this special agent didn’t sit right. Everything about the man was out of place, and Dan felt like he was missing something important about the case. He drank the coffee and went through the notebook again.
Somehow, he’d missed it before, but now it stood out like a raven in the snow. In each picture, there was a figure standing in the dwellings. A figure all in black.
Chapter Six
July 4th, 1180
When we awoke this morning, we found two men-at-arms dead and Sir Geoffrey gone. I have ordered Sir Ralph and Sir Pons to take a few men and search for him. We will wait here for one more day and then move on. I pray for Sir Geoffrey and hope that he and the others will return; however, I fear for what we will find if he does come back.
Sir William Brock
Twin Falls, Idaho
Two weeks had gone by since his father’s funeral, and Troy tried to move on with his life. His mother’s shock and loss from Edward’s suicide filtered through in everything she did. She was quiet and kept to herself. Troy made a point to visit every other day to check in on her, but it did little to help her demeanor, or his.
It was close to midnight, and Troy decided to look through the mysterious book again. He still couldn’t understand any of the writing, but he mindlessly flitted through the pages looking for something, anything, that would help him understand what drove his father to eat a bullet.
A small vibrating sound emanating from his phone wrested him from his stupor. He wasn’t familiar with the number but answered anyway.
“Hello.”
“Troy Grimes?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Hernandez, from the funeral.”
The captain’s voice was flat and quiet.
Troy’s first instinct was to make a big deal of the time, but that thought went to the wayside.
“Oh! Good, I have some questions for you about that package you gave me,” Troy said.
“We need to meet. I can answer your questions, but not over the phone.”
Troy was about to say something else, but a heavy rustling sound came across the speaker, followed by Hernandez yelling at someone nearby.
“Raul, not now! I’m on the phone. ¡Un momentico!”
“Captain Hernandez?” Troy asked.
“Sorry, my brother is here. In the beginning, it was nice to see him again, but now I remember what he was like. Very annoying.”
“I understand how it goes. When and where Hernandez?” Troy asked.
He was tired and losing patience. His tone was getting sharper by the second.
“What?”
“When and where do you want to meet?” Troy explained.
“Eh, let’s meet at that Chinese place near the Fox Den Elementary school.”
“I know the one,” Troy said.
“Good. Meet me tomorrow afternoon. 1:00.”
Troy’s reply caught in his throat when it sounded like another telephone receiver picked up. Heavy breathing came across from the other end and then a slow laughter. The laugh picked up momentum, turning into a maniacal cackle which reminded Troy of a bad “B” rated slasher flick.
“Tttrrrroooooyyyyyyy!” said a voice muddled with the sounds of phlegm.
“Raul! Get off the phone!” Hernandez yelled.
“Your father is waiting for you,” the voice said.
The line went dead.
“What the fuck? Who the hell was that? Hernandez? Hello!”
Troy quickly called Hernandez back, but there was no answer. Frustrated, he threw the cell phone into the wall. He was going to have to have a “nice” chat with this brother, Raul, about what had transpired.
***
Troy walked into the restaurant and found Captain Hernandez huddled into the corner of a booth. Similar to when he saw him at the funeral, Hernandez constantly scanned his surroundings as if he was looking for someone.
“Captain Hernandez?”
He looked up from the booth, and a flicker of fear briefly passed across his eyes.
“Yes, yes… Call me Mauricio, though. Sit… Sit.”
The captain’s voice was shaky as were the man’s hands. He sat across from Hernandez and subconsciously thumbed through the menu.
“Mauricio, about that package, I need some answers. About the book and my father.”
“Of course… Did you bring it? The book?”
Mauricio’s full attention was on Troy now, like someone had flipped a switch. The shakiness in the man’s voice disappeared, replaced with desperation.
“Uh, yes. I have it.” Troy said as he pulled the book out from a backpack.
Mauricio reached out to take it but stopped and cocked his head as if he heard something. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone.
“I’m busy. Yes, with Troy. You knew this already. Of course, he has the book.”
Troy sat patiently as Mauricio talked into the phone.
“We can’t do that. I know it would be fun, but we can’t. He says we’re not supposed to interfere. The word needs to be spread. Listen, Raul, I can’t! I’ll be punished, and you know it!”
Troy tried to listen to see if he could hear what Raul was saying, but the restaurant’s noise blocked him.
“Mauricio, I would like to talk to Raul, if at all possible. He needs to explain something he said to me earlier,” Troy said.
He tried to sound polite, but his voice came out sharp and dripped with poison.
Mauricio looked up and pocketed the phone.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I lost the connection.”
Troy saw through the lie but figured pushing the matter wouldn’t get him anywhere.
“What can you tell me about this book?”
Someone flipped the switch again, and Mauricio started shifting nervously in his seat. His eyes kept scanning the book on the table. Several times he reached out to touch it but pulled his hand away.
“Go ahead,” Troy said.
Mauricio put his hand over the cover. His eyes rolled back until only the whites were showing. Troy thought the man was about to pass out and reached out for him, but Mauricio pulled his hand back, cradling it as if something had bit him.
“No… No, I don’t think so,” Mauricio said.
Troy didn’t think it was possible, but the captain seemed to turn into a third person. This one was calculating, intelligent, and extremely exhausted. It was very different than the nervous Mauricio he had encountered upon entering the restaurant and even different than the intense Mauricio he had seen when he first pulled the book out. This one acted almost normal.
“Troy, I need to tell you something, something I wish I could have told you at the funeral.”
“Please, enough games, tell me.”
“You need to let it all go. Forget I gave you all this. If I could take it back from you, I would, but now it’s impossible, I’m afraid.”
“What are talking about?”
“Look, burn this book as soon as you can. Burn everything and carry on with your life.”
“I can’t do that. If it helps me find out what drove my father to kill himself, I’m going stick it out. Do you know what this means?” Troy asked as he opened the book.
The nervous Mauricio was back.
“Yes… yes. I’ve seen what’s in there. I’ve seen what’s waiting… waiting deep in the mountain. He’s waiting for you,” Mauricio whispered, rocking back and forth in his seat.
Troy closed the book, pulling away from the man.
“Are you on drugs?” Troy asked.
“He’s waiting for you… He’s always waiting.”
Mauricio scratched at a bandage on his arm. Somehow Troy missed it when he first came into the restaurant, but now with the blood seeping through the bandage, it was as if Mauricio was holding a signal flare. Troy tried to look away, but it was too captivating.
“Look, you aren’t making any sense, and I think you need some help,” Troy said, staring at the captain’s arm.
Mauricio stopped rocking and cocked his head again, listening to another imaginary noise. The man grabbed his phone and started talking.
“It was only for a moment. No, it won’t happen again, I swear! Please, Raul, no!”
Troy stood and snatched the phone away from a now sobbing Mauricio.
“Look, Raul, this is Troy Grimes. I want to know what you meant when you said my father was waiting for me. That kind of shit isn’t funny, you asshole!”
The restaurant-goers were all staring at them; Troy didn’t care.
He waited for a response, but silence was the only response he got from the other side of the line.
“What, nothing to say?” he asked harshly into the receiver.
It was too much. Troy pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the small LCD screen. There was no connection, nor could there have been. There was no power to the phone. Troy hit some buttons, seeing if it would power on. He heard that same phlegm-choked voice emanate from the small speaker.
“Tttttrrrrrrooooooyyyyy!”
Two things happened at the same time. Troy dropped the phone, and Mauricio grabbed him by the wrist. The captain’s grip was strong, and he pulled him in close. Troy was inches from the captain’s face, which was now entertaining a very frightening and unnatural grin.
“Troy, he’s waiting for you. Go there and see what your father did. It’s amazing.”
Mauricio let him go, and Troy fell back into the padded booth. Mauricio stood up and walked out of the restaurant, but his gaze never left Troy’s, and his unearthly smile never faltered.
Once Mauricio was out the door, it was as if the world let out a deep breath of relief. The patrons and staff went back to eating and serving tables as if nothing happened. Troy looked around, bewildered and frightened. His heart was thumping so fast it could have played in the percussion line of a marching band.
He went to put the book back but found it opened to a picture. Troy had looked through the book numerous times and had never seen a drawing in its pages. The picture depicted buildings built into a canyon wall. They seemed familiar, and it took Troy a moment to realize the drawing closely resembled the advertisements for the cliff dwelling found in Canyon Shadows.
Questions spawned in his mind, leading to more frustration. Gathering his things, Troy was about to leave when he noticed that Mauricio’s cell phone still sat on the table. He nervously grabbed it. It was still powered off, but there were no ghostly voices coming from it.
Troy turned it on and checked the call history. The last call was to his phone, and no trace of Raul’s number was present. Troy thumbed through the contact information and couldn’t find any link to Raul. Deciding he needed answers, Troy found a contact entry marked as “home” and hit the call button. A feminine voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Uh, yes, this is Troy Grimes, I’m a friend of Mauricio’s. I have his phone.”
“Oh, okay, are you with his squadron?”
“No ma’am, my father was though, and they were friends. I met Mauricio today, but he left his phone. If I could get your address, I could swing by and drop it off. I have a couple questions for Mauri
cio anyway.”
“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe I should wait until he gets back, and he could call you.”
Troy could tell she was nervous, and probably rightly so. Her voice held a strained quality, and each word seemed like she took her time to choose before speaking.
“Ma’am, maybe if I could speak with Raul, I could figure out somewhere to meet with him, and I could give him the phone?”
The woman on the other end was silent.
“Ma’am?”
“Is this some sort of awful joke? Who do you think you are?” she replied.
The tone shifted, and she no longer chose her words with care.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll have Mauricio call you when he gets in.”
Troy could tell she was under a lot of stress, but he needed some answers quickly before she hung up.
“Ma’am, wait, please. Could I please just talk with Raul?”
Troy could hear her on the other end and could tell that something wasn’t right. After a few more moments of silence, she said something then hung up the phone. He tried to process what she had said.
“Raul’s dead. He died in a car accident three years ago.”
***
Dan woke with a start. Something was in his cabin—something that wasn’t supposed to be there. He slid out of bed, careful not to hit the loose boards on the floor, boards that he intentionally loosened as an early warning mechanism. A creak of alarm screamed from the living room.
Then he smelled it. Something sulfurous and rotten. Lower management had come to his cabin.
Sneaking would give the wrong impression, so he dropped all pretenses and walked confidently from the bedroom. A short man wearing a dark gray business suit sat on his couch. The man’s features were plain. His hair was blond and cut neatly and short. He held a clipboard in his lap and was tapping his fingers on its hard surface.
“What are you doing here?” Dan asked.