Cemetery Club (31 page)

“Actually, that’s not true.” Cory hoped his words would somehow sink in. “We found out what those things are, why they’re here. It’s this town and all the bad things that have happened. Our families...somehow, it’s always been our families that pushed the evil back underground. If we hadn’t played with that Ouija board, something else would have woken the Shades up sooner or later. And they’re back now because of what happened at Wood Hill, not because of us.”

Todd slowly turned his head. “Did you say Shades? I remember reading something about them.”

“You found the answer,” Marisol said. “It was in your notes but none of us caught it. Freddy Alou filled in the missing pieces for us.”

“That’s why we need you now.” Cory took a step closer to the bed. “Your research had the answers for how to stop the Shades. Kill them forever. But we can’t do it alone. There are too many of them. We need you. We need your faith.”

Todd stared at him for so long Cory thought he might actually give in and rejoin them. Eventually though, he turned his gaze back to his mother’s motionless body.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I wasn’t there when she needed me. I won’t make that mistake again. I’m not leaving her side until...until she either wakes up or passes on.”

“Todd...” Marisol began, but he cut her off.

“I said no. Now, please leave.”

For a moment the only sounds in the room were the mechanical inhalations and exhalations of the equipment keeping Todd’s mother alive. Then Cory allowed himself a long sigh.

“All right. We understand. Just know this: it’s not your fault. None of it. Not the town, not your mother. And if you need anything you know we’re here for you.”

Without waiting for a goodbye, he took Marisol’s hand and led her to the door.

“Let’s hope we have better luck with John,” Cory said while they waited for the elevator.

As it turned out, they didn’t. Although more than willing to help, John was still not cleared to leave the hospital.

“One more night,” he told them, after showing them the angry red line of stitches just to the left of his naval. “The doctors want to make sure there’s no infection. Can you hold off for another couple of days?”

“We’ll have to,” Cory said. “There’s no way Marisol and I can do this alone, even if Freddy helps us...we’re still way outnumbered.”

“Can you talk to Travers?” John asked. “He knows the truth now. That would make five of us.”

“I’ll sure as hell try.” Cory gave John’s shoulder a soft squeeze. “Get some rest. We’ll be back tomorrow to get you.”

Marisol gave John a quick kiss on the cheek and they left him with a pile of magazines and newspapers.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now I talk to Chief Travers.”

“And then?”

He shrugged. “And then we start making plans.”

Although it wasn’t what she wanted to hear or what he wanted to say, it was the best he could do
.

For the first time in all his years as Police Chief, Nick Travers had spent an entire workday without stepping foot in the police station. Between the missing police officers and the out-of-control crime in Rocky Point, he’d been forced to ask for assistance from the Sheriff’s department to cover shifts. Unfortunately, there was only so much money in the budget for ‘special circumstances,’ so he’d had to take on field duties in an effort to minimize costs. Which meant, of course, that he’d be working more nights trying to catch up with paperwork.

All of which made Nick Travers an angry man as he did yet another pass through the Lowlands.

The radio crackled to life. “Chief?”

“What now?”

“Got that lawyer friend of yours, Miles, in here. He’s asking to speak with you. Says it’s important.”

An involuntary shudder ran through Travers. He’d done his best to avoid thinking about what had happened under the cemetery. There was no explanation for what he’d seen, although his mind was trying to steer him towards druggies and hallucinogenic chemicals as it attempted to rationalize the events of the previous night.

And now Miles wanted to talk to him, no doubt to convey some supernatural enlightenment.

He’ll just have to wait ‘til I’m ready to listen.

“Tell him he’s out of luck. I’m in the field for the foreseeable future and can’t help him.”

Gasses from rotting corpses. That’s what made me hallucinate.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The druggies had been using the tunnel below the crypt as their hangout. Who knew what chemicals or toxins they’d been exposed to down there. Well, he’d certainly rained on their parade last night! Doubtful they’d be using that place again; problem was, that meant finding their new drug den.

Shouldn’t be too hard,
he thought with a grimace.
Just wait until one of them commits a crime tonight and then follow them.

In the meantime he’d posted the few men he could spare in the tunnel to run forensics and bring up the bodies. He’d cruise the streets and let the citizens of Rocky Point know the police were still on the job until then.

Before the Desk Sergeant even put down the phone, Cory knew what the answer would be. He could see it in the man’s smug expression.

“Chief says he’s all tied up the rest of the day, and prob’ly tomorrow too.” The Sergeant didn’t try to hide his smile. “Guess you’re out of luck, Mister Miles.”

“I’m not the only one,” Cory said. He turned and headed for the exit. As he walked to his car, he briefly considered driving around town until he found Travers, but then he tossed the idea aside. Antagonizing the Police Chief wouldn’t do any good, especially since they might need his help later.

“Well?” asked Marisol, as he got into the car. “Anything good to report?”

He shook his head. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing we’re not going to Vegas anytime soon. We’d lose our life savings.”

Marisol sighed and put her feet up on the dashboard. Cory momentarily cringed inside - he’d never even eaten in the car, let alone soiled the dash - but he kept his mouth shut. A dirty dashboard was the least of their worries. If they survived the next few days, he could complain then.

“So, what now? John’s out of commission, Todd’s quit the team and Travers won’t acknowledge the problem.”

“Now?” Cory put the car in gear. “Now we go home, eat something, get some sleep and hope your friend Freddy can help us. Otherwise we’re in big trouble.”

*  *  *

In Rocky Point, the setting of the summer sun no longer meant ice cream at Millie’s Café or romantic walks through Riverside Park. It no longer meant sitting on the porch with a beer or an iced tea listening to the Mets or Yankees on the radio. It no longer meant heading down to the River Club or Wharf Rats to have a drink at the Tiki Bar while a half-decent cover band played classic rock hits.

No, sunset meant staying inside with the windows and doors locked, no matter how hot the night air. It meant closing up shop and getting home before dark. It meant making sure the kids were in before the streetlights came on.

And it meant praying you’d still be alive in the morning.

The residents of Rocky Point knew what the Mayor, the Town Board and the police refused to admit. They knew their town was under siege, at the mercy of an unknown force that was out for blood. Even the local papers weren’t reporting the whole truth; partly because the Board wasn’t giving it to them, and partly because the reporters didn’t believe half the stories they were hearing. Ghosts in the night? Alien abductions? Zombies walking the streets? You didn’t dare suggest that kind of story to the Senior Editor. Not unless you wanted your next job to be writing for the high school newsletter. Better to go along with the official story of ‘a new drug on the streets’ and ‘a suspected leak of hallucinogenic fumes into the air, most likely from a meth lab or similar manufacturing site for illicit drugs.’

Sure, it smelled of cover up, but at least it didn’t sound insane.

Unlike many of his friends and neighbors, Tanner Wilson had no concerns for his safety after dark. A veteran of the first Gulf War, he’d used his time in the military to become something of an expert in weaponry of all kinds, from basic survival knives to rocket launchers. He’d also mastered several forms of hand-to-hand combat and self-defense. After completing two tours of duty he’d taken out a veteran’s loan and opened a personal security company. In the years since, he’d built a large customer base of high net worth individuals and medium-sized businesses.

So when four hollow-eyed, disheveled men entered Off-the-Hook Fish & Chips while he waited for his order, he felt no fear. His body immediately went into defense mode, his brain assessing the men as obvious derelicts, probably stoned out of their minds. The reek of their unwashed bodies quickly overpowered the delicious odors of batter-fried fish and hush puppies, which annoyed Tanner more than anything. He’d had a hard day and all he wanted was a greasy meal and a large soda.

One of the men grunted and the four of them spread out slightly, a strategy Tanner instantly recognized as a move to surround him. He glanced back at the counter, saw that the young girl who’d taken his order had already fled into the kitchen.

Smart kid. This is going to get messy.

“All right fellows. I’ll give you one chance. Turn around and take your smelly asses out of here and there won’t be any trouble.”

The druggie directly in front of him made a phlegmy, gurgling kind of sound. The others continued to stare at him with blank expressions. Without warning, they charged him all at once.

Tanner sent the first attacker flying through the air with a roundhouse kick. He let his follow-through bring him within arm’s length of the next one, a wiry teenager with long, greasy hair. Before the kid could make a move, Tanner struck him in the nose with the bottom of his palm and then followed the blow with two quick punches to the midsection. He’d already started his turn towards the other two assailants when it registered in his mind that druggie number two hadn’t gone down.

Shit. They must be fucked up on PCP or something. Feeling no pain.

Incredibly strong arms wrapped around his chest. The man’s stench was powerful enough to start Tanner’s eyes watering but he ignored the foul air and raked his heel down the man’s shin while simultaneously whipping his head back in a vicious blow. Bone broke with a loud crunch and wet liquids streamed down his neck.

The arms didn’t let go.

It came to him then that he might be in more trouble than he’d thought.

“Call nine one one!” he shouted, hoping there was still someone in the back of the restaurant.

One of the other attackers grabbed his arms, held them tight. Tanner struggled but couldn’t get loose. The man leaned forward and Tanner suddenly knew why they were feeling no pain.

Death stared at him from blind, cloudy eyes.

Strong hands pushed him to the floor and pried his mouth open. There was a moment when he feared they were going to pour some kind of drug into him.

Then the creature appeared above him.

The police were still two minutes away when the thing that used to be Tanner Wilson followed the other four men as they climbed over the counter and went into the kitchen.

By the time Nick Travers arrived at Off-the-Hook, it was too late. The first officer on the scene, a rookie Deputy Sheriff only a few weeks out of the academy, lay in pieces on the kitchen floor. He’d apparently arrived as the unknown assailants - four of them, according to the 911 call - were attacking the counter girl, a nineteen-year-old college student named Jennifer Waits. Apparently was the operative term because the officers who’d come after had found spent shell casings on the floor. No sign of the perps, and it was too soon to tell if any of the copious amounts of blood in the kitchen belonged to them.

Jennifer’s half-eaten body had been stuffed into a freezer.

“What about other employees?” Travers asked the room in general. Another Deputy Sheriff spoke up.

“Owner wasn’t on duty. He’s on his way here now. The night shift manager and cook are missing.”

The officer closed his notepad with more force than necessary and shoved it into his pocket. Travers didn’t say anything. He knew the man’s anger stemmed from losing one of their own.

I remember that anger,
he thought. Of course, that was back before death and disappearances had become the norm in Rocky Point. Now all he felt was a cold, depressing numbness.

His radio crackled, indicating an incoming call.

“All units, 10-54 on Maple Avenue in front of elementary school. Repeat, 10-54. Ambulance needed.”

Travers couldn’t keep his groan to himself.
10-54. Possible dead body.

That’s it.

He turned and left the restaurant without saying anything. Someone called his name but he ignored them, continued walking to his car. Got inside. Turned off both radios. Started the engine and pulled away from the crime scene.

Heading down Main Street, he saw a woman dart out from between two cars. Two men tackled her in the other lane. One of them looked up, his face highlighted by Travers’ headlights just long enough for Travers to recognize him as Officer Mack Harris, one of the department’s missing officers. Harris’s shirt was torn and bloody.

Harris smiled and then bent down and bit the woman’s face.

Travers steered his car around the carnage and kept driving. When he arrived at his house, he went inside and woke his family.

“Pack up your clothes,” he told them. “You’re leaving at first light.”

*  *  *

At the same time Chief Travers was stuffing his daughters’ shoes into a suitcase, the ringing of the bedroom phone woke Cory and Marisol from a deep, troubled, sleep.

“Hello?” Marisol tried focusing on the caller ID but it remained fuzzy.

“Something’s happening at the hospital. I think you’d better get down here, fast.”

The line went dead.