by C R Langille
“But, Chief!?” Howell protested.
“Shut the hell up!” Chief Wilkins boomed.
Brent nodded and walked back to his car. He could feel the pressure of everyone’s gaze as he departed. He knew what he heard, but it didn’t feel right. None of this felt right.
***
Troy followed the blonde woman back into the store. Now and then, his inner self screamed and pleaded with him to leave and never look back, but a macabre desire to see what they wanted to show him kept him pushing forward. With each step, the desire grew until it was so big it blocked all other thoughts.
The air conditioner had failed in the building, and the heat was palpable in the store. Troy fanned his shirt, trying to create some cool air, but it was useless. They moved back to the storeroom, and the woman flicked the light switch on.
The buzz of shop light ballasts hummed to life, and the lights flickered on and off as they ate at the power. Through the white strobe-like flashes, Troy caught movement in the back corner. As the chaos of the lights finally came to order, Troy could see everything. Tied to a row of water and electrical pipes was the family from the minivan.
A skinny man wearing cargo shorts, flip-flops, and a light button-down shirt sat slumped against the wall, unconscious. He had a large cut on his forehead and blood caked all over his face. His wife sat tied next to him with a gag in her mouth. Her sweat mixed with tears and caused her makeup to run. When she saw them enter the room, she started yelling and whimpering, but Troy couldn’t tell what she said. He could guess, though.
Two young children were tied to another pipe, fear permeating their wide eyes. They were crying along with the mother and sported similar gags. Troy could tell that they got their looks from their mother and shared her red hair and freckled cheeks.
As he stared at the family, a strange sensation took over his body. Their fear was like a cold beer after a hard day’s work. Their fate was in his hands. He could choose whether they lived or died, and it made him feel like a god.
Troy walked closer to the woman. He crouched down and stared into her eyes. As he did, he could sense things. He knew that she adored her children but loathed her husband. Troy knew that she had cheated on him several times with her co-worker and that they had plans to meet every Wednesday during their lunch break and have quick sex in the back of the minivan. Troy smirked at her and shuffled closer to the husband.
While looking at his unconscious body, he could understand the woman’s discomfort for her husband. Troy could tell that he worked late and had a violent temper. He could see that the man had hit the woman and the children on several occasions and found pleasure in it. Troy also knew that husband was aware of his wife’s infidelity and fantasized many times about surprising them during one of their trysts. The images of what the man wanted to do to both of them assaulted Troy’s senses, and for a moment, the line between the man’s desires and Troy’s blurred.
Troy leaned forward and slapped him across the face. He started to wake up, but Troy slapped him again, harder this time, to get his attention. It worked, and the man’s eyes snapped open. After a moment of disorientation, the man’s eyes locked onto Troy. He struggled against his restraints in an attempt to break free and get at Troy.
The husband’s fear and anger rolled off his body, fueling Troy’s sense of empowerment. Troy looked back to the blonde attendant. She simply smiled and nodded for him to continue, rolling her wrist and pointing forward at the same time in a “get on with it” motion.
Troy looked around the storeroom, walking about looking at the shelves. Finally, he found what he was looking for. He grabbed a box cutter and slid the blade out. He looked back at the captive family and chuckled. As he walked back, he moved past a mirror hanging on the wall, and he caught a glimpse of his face. His mouth twisted into a disturbing smile, and his eyes smoldered like bits of charcoal. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother him.
He dropped to one knee in front of the husband. The man’s eyes widened as Troy brought the blade close to his throat. He grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and tugged his head back. Groans of protest escaped from his gagged mouth, but it only fueled Troy’s desires. He leaned in close and whispered into the man’s ear.
“Your wife’s a whore. But you know that, don’t you?”
The man growled something back at him, straining against his bonds.
“Shhh, shhh. There will be a time for that, but now you listen,” Troy whispered, tightening his grip on the man’s head and pushing the blade against his neck. A small trickle of blood welled up from under the blade and snaked its way down to his chest. “Your wife is a whore, and she spends her afternoons fucking another man, Robert.”
Troy knew the man’s name; he didn’t know how, he just did.
“I know it makes you angry, Robert. I know what you want to do to her. You want to make her pay for what she’s done to you. Make her pay for being a whore. I mean, what kind of example does it set for your children?”
Robert looked to his wife and children. His protests disappeared; however, his breathing grew heavier. He flexed his hands open and closed.
Troy moved the box cutter away and pulled Robert’s face until they were staring eye to eye. Robert’s eyes widened when he saw the black and red swirls swimming in Troy’s orbs, and the cries of protest kicked up again.
“Robert, are you going to let her humiliate you and piss on the bonds of your marriage like that? How long are you going to let her get away with it? You know it’s not just her co-worker. She fucks your best friend, Vick. They get it on like animals in your bed. Your bed, Robert!”
Robert looked back to his wife, and Troy savored Robert’s reaction as the truth grew on the man’s features. The shocked look in her eyes gave it all away, cementing the truth in Robert. Troy let out a chuckle and took the gag out of Robert’s mouth.
“You bitch!” Robert yelled. “How could you?”
The woman, Regina, Troy ascertained, tried to say something back, but the gag in her mouth muffled the response.
“We should probably see what she wants to say. What do you think, Robert?”
Troy shuffled close to her and pulled the gag loose.
“Well, Regina, what do you have to say?”
“Why are you doing this? Let us go please!” she yelled, crying.
“Why am I doing this? I’m doing this to help you,” Troy said.
“Just let us go,” she pleaded.
Troy moved back to Robert. He leaned in close to Robert’s ear again and said, “See that? She’s avoiding the question. She doesn’t give a shit about your relationship or those two little girls over there.”
Robert’s rage started to simmer as the thoughts of revenge on Regina’s adultery dominated everything in Robert’s mind. Troy let some of the dark energy flow from his body into Robert’s, causing the rage to boil. The frustration and anger of years in a broken marriage filled his head with violence. Troy’s words greased the wheels of hate and anger.
“What’s your fucking problem? In our bed? It wasn’t enough that you had to get it on in the family vehicle, you had to bring your slut habits back to the home? Who else? Who else, Regina?” Robert yelled.
“Please, Robert, please… We need to get out of here! This isn’t helping anything!” She was crying even harder now, and her discomfort and the escalating situation put the two young girls into a crying frenzy as well.
“No! I’ve kept quiet for too long, and I’m sick and tired of your bullshit. This ends now!”
Troy stood up straight, stretching his legs. He took a couple of steps back and watched as husband wife verbally fought one another. The power he felt earlier grew in strength, and he fed off their anger and fear like it was a freshly killed zebra and he was the pack of wild hyenas.
Troy knew his and the blonde’s presence heightened the couple’s hatred, unlocking burie
d feelings and causing emotions to run rampant. It was pure ecstasy, and the longer it continued, the more Troy enjoyed it.
“I’ll fucking kill you! If I wasn’t tied up, I would beat the living shit out of you!”
“I think I can help with that,” Troy mentioned. He knelt next to Robert, who tried frantically to break loose from his restraints once again. Robert didn’t even notice Troy next to him, his eyes on his wife the entire time. Troy used the box cutter to remove the rope from his hands and then stepped back again.
Robert burst forward and lunged at Regina. He slammed her head again and again into the metal pipe she had been tied to. The whole time he yelled at her, “You bitch! You slutty, evil bitch! How does it feel now? How does it feel?”
The children’s fear was a delicacy, sweet and innocent. Pure. Troy devoured it like a delicious dessert. The mixture of confusion and grief pouring from their small minds sent shivers of pleasure up his spine.
Soon, Regina’s body went slack as Robert crushed her skull. Robert continued to slam her into the pipe while the two girls watched in horror, witnessing firsthand their father murdering their mother.
Finally, Robert stopped and fell back on his rump. He looked at his hands, covered in his wife’s blood. His mouth opened but words failed him. The rage left his body, and the shock of what just happened filled the void. Troy slashed his screams short when he opened the man’s jugular with a box cutter. The man’s cries drowned in a river of blood.
“Now see, I fixed the problem of mommy and daddy fighting,” Troy said looking to the two girls.
Chapter Eighteen
October 31, 1180
The natives have shown me things that are both wondrous and terrifying. They led me to an opening in the rock wall located near the back of one of their cliff buildings. The cold air emanating from that abyss defeated the sun’s warmth in an instant. We posted guards outside the opening; however, whether to prevent people from entering or to prevent something coming out, I was unsure.
We stood before that abyss in anticipation. Sir Ralph and I, our men-at-arms, and some of the remaining tribal warriors descended into the depths with one of the elders as our guide. As we ventured lower and deeper into the mountain, I tried to keep count of our steps, hoping to ascertain how far we may have gone, yet I lost count somewhere past four thousand.
The rock itself seemed natural enough, and I believed this cave to be nothing more unusual than a deep chasm; however, my ideas were dashed when we came upon something both amazing and terrifying. The downward motion abruptly ceased and leveled, and we found ourselves face to face with a strange monolith, a stone pillar standing higher than any rampart I had ever seen in my days. Intricate carvings unlike anything I knew covered the black stone. A thought entered my mind that refused to leave, a thought that screamed to me that I had seen these devilish marking before, yet I could not remember from what or where.
The natives were wary around the monolith and would not come near it. Only the elder dared to approach as we examined the thing. Our torchlight illuminated the stone, and we could see it was somewhat transparent, much like obsidian. However, as I stared at the carvings, strange things moved from within the monolith, always at the very edges of my vision. I could also hear whispers coming from deeper in the mountain. Almost inaudible, yet like the movements in the stone, the sound haunted the edges of my perception. This is an unholy place.
-Sir William Brock
Canyon Shadows, Utah
There was a knock at the door. Everyone looked up in unison and stared at the entryway, waiting for something to happen. Nobody moved. Another round of raps on the door broke the spell, spurring Randall into action.
As he moved to the door, Allison stood up and smoothed her shirt down. Garrett watched her for a moment, a small hint of a grin creeping into the corners of her mouth. Allison continued to primp herself until she noticed Garrett’s tractor beam of scrutiny.
“What?” she asked.
Allison’s face scrunched up into a look of confusion. However, when Randall opened the door, and Sheriff Blackwood’s voice echoed through the building when he said hello, that confusion turned into excitement, causing her face to flush red.
Good Lord, she was acting like a teenager getting to meet her crush for the first time. She had to keep it together. Besides, Sheriff Blackwood had kind of been an asshole to Garrett when he was here earlier. As cute as he was, she didn’t take kindly to that kind of treatment toward her family and friends.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the other room, indicating they were getting closer. That’s when she realized she was standing in the middle of the room staring at the entryway. By God, she might as well had been standing there with a handwritten poster stating, “I HEART you, Sheriff.” Allison scanned the room then rushed toward the computer where Garrett was conducting his research.
He looked up at her and chuckled.
“Allison and the sheriff, sitting in the tree,” he said in a sing-song voice.
She hit him on the shoulder.
“Stop it,” she whispered.
Garrett was about to say something else when Randall and Dan walked into the room.
A mix of emotions ran through Allison. First and foremost was a flush of anger at remembering the ginormous asshole Sheriff Blackwood was during their last encounter. There was a large part of her that wanted to kick him in the shin and give him what for. Underneath that anger, was something else—something almost animal.
Something primal.
On a base level, she wanted Sheriff Blackwood. She wanted to be a teenager again and take him to the closet to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. It wasn’t like her, and it was that fact that made her blush and look away.
“Sheriff Blackwood made it,” Randall said, stating the obvious.
“Hello, Sheriff,” Garrett said, standing up.
“Mr. Porter,” Dan said, nodding in Garrett’s direction.
“Sheriff,” Allison said with a little bit of steel in her words.
Perhaps the anger would temper the other feelings. Perhaps she would become the Queen of England.
Garrett chuckled, shaking his head.
“Don’t let her fool you. You are the Romeo to her fair Juliette—at least that’s what it looked like from the way she acted when you came through the door,” Garrett said.
Allison hit Garrett on the shoulder again, this time hard enough to make him stumble forward. He moved away, still laughing, so she grabbed a throw pillow and took its name literally, hurling it across the room at Garrett. He moved out of the way, and the makeshift missile hit Dan in the face.
Allison brought both hands up to her face and took in a sharp breath.
“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry!” She grabbed a piece of her hair and started chewing on the ends.
“Don’t worry,” Dan said picking the pillow up. “I’ll let it slide this time,” he joked. “I might have to detain you next time, though.”
He walked over to the couch and put the pillow down, standing close to Allison. She continued to eat her hair, and her complexion took on a deeper hue. A moment later, a nervous giggle escaped her lips. Dan merely smiled.
She had to pull herself together. Allison was losing it in a bad way.
“We heard about the fire. I hope everything is okay,” Randall said, oblivious to the interplay happening.
“Unfortunately, no. Jared’s pawn shop burned down.”
“Oh,” Randall said. He cast his gaze down to the floor and put his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah, not good.”
“Jared Barlow? As in, the man I saw at the mini-store today?” Garrett asked, a sharp tone edging into his voice.
“The same. I was heading there to check up on your story. When I got there, his store was engulfed in flames,” Dan said.
“Did you find Mr. Barlo
w?” Randall asked.
“No. He wasn’t in his shop.”
There was a moment of silence while he digested the news. Garrett stared at the floor. Something ate at him, something bad. Allison had only seen him get this way a few times before in her life. She looked at him, unsure of what to say or how to help. Perhaps getting back to the business at hand would divert attention to something less stressful.
“So, Sheriff, Randall here tells me you are an expert in the Anasazi culture,” she said.
“Please, call me Dan,” he said.
He was frustrating as all get out. Allison figured he was playing suave to keep her on edge. She wasn’t going to let him win this round.
“Let’s keep it professional,” she said.
Dan shot her a smile and gave her a wink.
“So, you’re not just a sheriff, you are also a history buff?” Garrett asked.
“That’s right. I know quite a bit about the ancient Puebloans. What can I help you with?”
Allison and Garrett spent the next half hour filling him in on all the details and showing him the items Randall had. Dan sat quietly throughout their presentation, nodding when appropriate and offering the occasional “yes” and “uh-huh” when needed, but his mind was elsewhere.
“Dan?” Garrett asked.
Dan looked into the distance, looking like he contemplated the stars and their meaning. Garrett waved his hand a few times, hoping the movement would catch Dan’s attention.
“Sheriff? Hello?” Garrett asked a little louder.
Dan’s eyes took focus of the room again, and he shook his head a little.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Dan asked.
“I was asking your opinion. What do you think? Are the artifacts legit? Do you know anything about the pottery or the painting on the sword?” Garrett asked.
Dan’s eyes looked away again, searching for something.
“Well, to tell you the truth, I think the piece of pottery may be real. But Garrett, you know as well as I do that since it was moved, there is no way to verify if these pieces were actually found together. The sword may be real too, but I can’t tell you much more than that. Sounds like a good story, but really, you’re all just chasing smoke here,” Dan said, standing up.