The First Church (19 page)

“The ghosts,” James said quickly.

“James,” Luke said sharply.  “Did you go
into the Church?”

“No, sir,” James answered.  “We took a walk through the woods behind the Church and came in behind the Old Burial Ground.  We found a body.  I think the ghosts tortured him to death.  And then they came out of the
Church, and they chased us to the edge of the property.”

“To the edge of the property?” Luke asked, shaking his head.  “They left the Church?”

“Yes, sir,” James said, and Luke could hear the fear and exhaustion in his grandson’s voice.

“Well,” Luke said, forcing himself to smile.  “You’re safe now, James.  You’re here with me, and nothing is going to happen to either one of you, alright?”

The two teenagers answered ‘yes’ in unison.

“Good, good.” Luke folded his arms across his chest and said, “Now, there’s a fresh body, someone the ghosts killed?”

“Yes, sir,” James said miserably.  “It was terrible.”

“Yes,” Luke said softly, “I imagine it was, James.”

Luke reached down to his left, found his cellphone
and pressed redial.  A moment later, Detective Dan Brown answered.

“Mr. Allen,” Dan said cheerfully.  “A pleasure.  Everything alright?”

“I’m afraid not, Detective,” Luke said.  “My grandson just came
in, and he has informed me that there is a mutilated body in the burial ground behind the First Church.”

“Jesus Christ!” Dan snapped.  He closed his eyes for a moment, then he opened them and said, “Okay.  Alright, I’m in the Rye Police Station right now.  I’ll pass the word along.  Is he alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” Luke said.  “Have you had any luck in regards to George Montgomery’s house?”

“I have,” Dan answered.  “Turns out a cousin of his by the name of Miles Cunningham moved in recently.  I’m going to do a little bit of digging to see if the man has any sort of record.  Should only take about an hour or so.  How about I meet you at your place at four o’clock?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Luke said. 

“Will you do me a couple of favors?” Dan asked.

“Certainly,” Luke replied.

“Could you make sure your grandson stays with you?  More than likely, there should be a police officer at your house long before I get there to take your grandson’s statement.”

“I will.  And the second request?” Luke asked.

“Contact Brian Roy, see if he can meet us at your house as well,” Dan said.  “I’d rather not meet in the Riverwalk and have anyone overhear our conversation.”

“I agree,” Luke said.  “I’ll have my grandson find Brian’s number after this and give him a call.”

“Excellent,” Dan said.  “I’ll see you at four.”

“Goodbye, Dan.”

Luke ended the call and carefully returned the phone to the side table.

“James,” Luke said.

“Yes, sir?” James asked.

“Detective Brown will be sending a police officer here to speak with the two of you, and I was wondering if you could find Brian’s number and call him for me?  I believe it’s on the counter by the toaster,” Luke said. 

“Yes, sir,” James said.

Luke listened as his grandson got up and went into the kitchen.

“How are you holding up, Lisa?” Luke asked.

Her voice came from the right side of the couch.

“I’m not sure,” she said.  “It doesn’t feel like what I saw was real, even though I know it was.”

Luke nodded.  “Do you want to call your parents?”

“They’re both at work, and they both had meetings today.  I can’t call when there are meetings,” she said.

“You may have to,” Luke said.  “Police tend not to question teenagers without a parent present.”

“I have it, Grandpa,” James said, coming back into the room.

“Very good, James,” Luke said.  “Will you do me another favor and call him?  The detective would like all of us to meet here at four.”

“Yes, sir,” James said.

Luke listened as the boy sat back down on the couch and dialed the number.

I wonder,
Luke thought,
if George’s cousin is as strange as George was.

Chapter 47: Alex Charles Goes for a Drive

Alex Charles, at forty-one years of age, had been a professional alcoholic since he was thirteen.  Most days no one even knew.  He had woken up at Hurlington House at four and pounded back the last half of a fifth of some cheap vodka.
He was feeling pretty good, even with the headache which had started a little while before.

His thoughts felt fuzzy, as if they were crowded.

And he couldn’t quite remember leaving his room and going down into the parking lot.

Even though he was drunk, and didn’t recall why he was leaving, Alex didn’t miss the lock on the truck door.
Nor did he fumble with the ignition in the old Dodge Ram.  Nope, everything went smoothly, like it always did.

The truck’s engine turned over, the gears shifted, and he pulled out of the parking lot. Whistling to himself Alex drove happily down Main Street.

Sure, he almost hit a couple of parked cars, but hey, who didn’t after a couple of drinks?

He fumbled with a cigarette, managed to get the truck’s lighter pushed in, and jerked the wheel to the left in time to miss the mirror of a new Lexus as the car tried to pull out of a parking space.

“Jerk,” Alex muttered to himself around his cigarette.  He tried to inhale, remembered it wasn’t lit, and stopped just in time at a red light.  The lighter
popped, and Alex pulled it out, lit the cigarette, and waved to the guy behind him who laid on the horn.

Yeah, green means go, but I’m busy,
Alex thought.  He dropped the lighter onto the floor, sighed, and eased into the intersection.  The impatient driver jerked his Lexus to the left, and cut around Alex.  The man gave Alex the American, one-finger salute, and Alex waved again.

Whatever,
Alex sighed, his head pounding with a vicious headache. The cab was cold too, and no matter how high he had the heat, the chill remained.

Tunes,
Alex thought, suddenly. 
I need some tunes.

He leaned forward, turned on the radio, and for some reason he pulled down on the steering wheel at the same time.  The truck jumped the curb, knocked the cigarette out of his mouth and onto his lap.  Alex let out a shout of surprise and anger.

He slapped at the smoldering ashes on his jeans, then, without warning, his right foot stepped down hard on the gas.

Surprised at what his hand and foot had done seemingly of their own accord, Alex could only watch in horror as the truck lurched forward.  The powerful, eight-cylinder engine propelled the vehicle over the sidewalk and up the stairs of the Rye Police Station.  The stairs, where a man stood and looked shocked at the sight of the chrome and metallic blue
front end of the truck as it raced towards him.

Alex, drunk as he was, tried to hit the brake, but his foot refused to respond, and it was too late.  The truck had too much momentum.  Unable to close his eyes, Alex watched in dull horror as the grill slammed into the man and threw him backward.

As the truck shuddered to a halt,
the airborne man broke through the plate glass of the station’s door.  He vomited blood in a wide spray which covered everything as he slammed into the next door and broke it as well.

Oh no,
Alex thought. 
There’s no way he could have survived that
.
 

Chapter 48: Dan Brown has a Revelation

Dan Brown lay on his back in the foyer of the Rye Police Station.  He couldn’t see anything.  He couldn’t hear anything.

He could feel hands on him,
though.  Someone held his neck steady, and someone else took his hand and squeezed it.  He tried to respond, but his fingers only fluttered weakly.

He killed me
, Dan thought, and he chuckled silently. 
Jesus Christ, that drunk Alex Charles has killed me.

Dan had arrested Alex a dozen times over the years.  All for driving under the influence in that Dodge of his.

And they had never put him away.

Not once.

And now, I’m dying
.

He coughed, as he tasted blood and felt broken teeth.

Christ,
he thought. 
All I wanted was a sandwich.

Just a sandwich.  A BLT. 

He felt rather than heard the death rattle in his lungs, and he knew what it meant.  Just like those around him knew what the sound stood for.

Whoever held his hand, squeezed it harder.

Dan managed to grip it, and he wondered who tried to comfort him.  He wanted to thank them, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work.

He felt a sharp pinch in his other hand, and he thought it might be an IV.

They’re trying to save me,
he thought sadly. 
They know I’m dying, but they’re trying anyway.

He felt something cold against his chest, and he figured was medical scissors.  Dan had seen hundreds of accidents.  Nothing was a surprise.

Except for what was coming next.

Dan had no idea what to expect.

He had been a good Christian.  He had tried to be a good man.

Dan tried to move again,
and agony raced through his body.  He shrieked and the hand which held his
, squeezed harder.

Death didn’t creep over Dan.

It slammed into him with all of the weight of Alex’s Dodge.

Chapter 49: Brian and Shane try to Plan

“What do you think?” Shane asked.

“About what?” Brian said.

“Who should go in?” Shane said, lighting a cigarette.

The two men sat on a stone wall which wrapped around an old farm.  The air smelled sweetly of
spring,
and the sun was warm.  Midday had slipped by, and the afternoon seemed to be in a rush.

“Just you and me,” Brian replied after a moment.  “I can see the dead, and you can speak Japanese.  It'll be dangerous enough with the two of us.  I sure as hell don’t want to bring Luke or Jim with us.”

“Neither do I,” Shane agreed.  “I’ve got this gut feeling we should, though.”

Brian was silent for a moment, and then he nodded.  “You’re right.  Feels like we need them both.”

“Exactly,” Shane said.

Brian scratched his head before he said, “We’ll have to take extra precautions.  Make sure they stay out of harm’s way as much as possible.  I just really,
really
wish we didn’t have to take them.”

“Same here,” Shane said.  “But the feeling’s there, right in the pit of my stomach.”

“Me too.” Brian shook his head and said, “I hate the idea of putting the two of them in possible danger.”

“There’s no possible about it,” Shane said grimly.  “Jim’s already experienced some of the violence the dead are capable of.  The fact that we’re going to be putting a blind man and a young teenager turns my stomach.  I mean, we need them.  And other than the gut feeling I have, I can’t really justify it.”

“I can,” Brian said.  “We need as much help as we can get.  Even if one is still a child and the other is a blind senior citizen.”

“Yeah.  So,” Shane said, looking at him.  “We’ll keep them safe.”

“Best we can,” Brian said, sighing.

“Let’s hope it’s enough,” Shane said softly.

“Yeah.  So,” Brian said, standing up and stretching.  “Want to head back to town?

“Yeah,” Shane said.  He got off the wall, yawned and then said, “We'll have to talk to Charles, won't we?”

Brian nodded.  “Do you think he has anything big enough to transport multiple skulls at once?”

Shane shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never asked him or Ellen the specifics about the ghost prison they run.”

“Right,” Brian said, chuckling.  “Yeah.  Feels like the less I
know, the better.”

“Definitely,” Shane said with a grin.

The two of them began the walk back to the center of Rye.  As they did
so, Brian took a cigar out, lit it, and smoked happily as they went.

“It’s nice up here,” Shane said shortly.

“It is,” Brian agreed.  “Too noisy for me now.”

“Oh yeah?” Shane asked.

Brian nodded.  “Yup.  The stress of my
job
and just the constant strife of life in Manchester drove me crazy.  Too much crime.  Jenny, my wife, and I, we moved mostly for my sake out to Mont Vernon.”