Dark Creations: The Hunted (Part 4) (11 page)

“Just one question,” Gabriel persisted.

“Mind your fucking business and write you little high school report, or whatever it is you’re doing, about someone else, and leave me alone!” he screamed and his face turned an unhealthy shade of red.

A hush befell the bar.  Gabriel knew that if he didn’t just blurt out his question immediately, they would leave and never know the answer.  But Sergeant Downing was livid and belligerent and about to lose his temper.

“Were the cops that took your wife, were they ridiculously good looking,” he managed and cringed, certain that a blow to the face would follow.

But Jack did not lash out verbally or physically.  Instead, he remained motionless, unblinking then asked, “What did you just say?”

Gabriel had seen this type of dramatic question asked when a man is about to get pummeled by another in movies.  He did not want to fight Jack, just get an answer.

“Were the cops good looking, like better looking than an actor or something?”

“What, like you, pretty boy?  Why?” Jack asked flatly.

“Because I’m willing to bet they were,” Gabriel replied in the same tone and sat in the barstool beside Jack.

Gabriel was about to press the man after seeing the distinct flicker of recognition register in his features.

“They were, weren’t they?” Gabriel asked.

“Look, I don’t usually notice how other guys look or anything.  Half the time I don’t even look at myself, let alone the guys around me.  But these guys, these cops that came to the house and took Dawn, they were better looking than the guys on all the billboards I passed coming home.  In fact, I think that’s what I found so off about them when I opened the door.”

Gabriel could tell that Jack was having a difficult time sharing what he knew, what he’d seen, with him.  He seemed reluctant and wary, but lucid.  He did not present himself as the person who was depicted in the newspaper, as a man deluded and damaged by years of combat.  He seemed keen and perceptive.  These aspects of his personality, along with his conviction, his sincerity, would not have gone unnoticed by others had he not seemed so determined to become a drunkard.  And since his recent commitment to consuming as much alcohol as the bartender would allow, he’d validated their claims.

“Were they wearing uniforms?” Gabriel asked.

“It’s like I told the police, they were wearing plain black jackets over their uniforms.  I assumed they were police-issue as well, and that those guys were town cops.  Why would I think otherwise?” Jack asked dejectedly then took a long swig of his drink.

“Show him the pictures,” Melissa urged Gabriel.

“Pictures?  What pictures?” Jack asked.

“We downloaded staff pictures of the Pine Valley Police Department, as well as ones from the Santa Ynez force,” Melissa told him and held out a manila folder filled with prints.

“Why?” Jack questioned.  “Why would you do that?  Was your Aunt grabbed by cops too?”

Melissa did not answer right away.  Her second of hesitation resulted in a look of disgust clouding Sergeant Downing’s features.  Gabriel interpreted his reaction as
insight; that Jack knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that had Melissa lied.

“There was no missing Aunt, was there,” Jack hissed. “And I bet you guys are a team of reporters trying to write some damned story about the soldier that returned from war all fucked in the head and can’t handle that his wife left him, aren’t you?  Well I know what I saw!” 

Jack Downing rose to his feet and no longer retained the bearing of a boulder.  His air more closely resembled a mountain, a mountain filled with volatile, volcanic venom bubbling at its vent.  He thundered toward them, just a few steps, and was face to face with Gabriel instantly.  Gabriel could smell the rank stench of liquor and bile as Jack warned him to leave through clenched teeth.

“Let’s just go, Gabriel,” Melissa said in a voice that trembled.  “Forget about this, let’s just go.”  Then to Jack, she said, “I’m so sorry for lying to you, and for bothering you.  You’re right.  I don’t have a missing Aunt.  And we’re not reporters, by the way.  We just wanted to help.”

“You can’t help,” Jack replied in a voice tempered by defeat, and sat back down.  “No one can.”

Gabriel watched Melissa turn to leave.  She attempted to slip the folder in to her purse, but appeared to miss the opening completely and the folder fell.  As it dropped, the photographs scattered about the filthy barroom floor.

“God, Melissa!” Alexandra exclaimed.  “Way to make a dramatic exit.”

“She didn’t mean to do it,” Yoshi added levelly.

“Who cares, this guy’s about to crush us to a fine powder and she makes us stay here longer,” Alexandra complained.  “Maybe one more drink will convince him to do it.”

“Shut up Alex,” Melissa said and Gabriel saw the tears fill her eyes.  He expected Jack to respond to Alexandra’s reference to him, to react in some way.  He could not rule out the possibility of impending violence as alcohol often loosened inhibitions and made otherwise rational people behave irrationally.  He readied himself and looked quickly to Yoshi who was suspicious as well.  Yoshi nodded to him, and let him know that he, too, was prepared.  Then, as if on cue, Jack sprung to his feet and lunged forward.  He looked as if he were about to attack Melissa who had just knelt to begin picking up the photographs.  Gabriel swiftly stepped in front of her, placed his body between hers and Jack’s.  But his protective move proved unnecessary as Jack’s eyes were cast down at a set of pictures, not on Melissa. 

He watched as the color drained from Jack’s face and he reached for the photographs. 

“Where did you get theses?” Jack asked without looking up.

“These are two new officers in the Santa Ynez Police Department,” Melissa replied gently.

“Do they look familiar?” Gabriel asked but already knew the answer.

Jack did not respond at once.  Instead he remained, in his bowed position and clutched his head with his hands.  When finally he looked up, his eyes, though red rimmed, were no longer bleary or hazed by liquor.  They were clear and resolute. 

“Yeah, they look familiar alright,” Jack said firmly.  “Those are the bastards that took my Dawn.”

Jack stood and placed a crumpled wad of cash on the bar then turned to them.  “Thanks for the info kids.  Don’t know why they were all the way down here in Ventura County, but I’m sure I can persuade them to tell me.”

“Where are you going?” Gabriel asked.

“To find out where my wife is.  Even if I have to beat it out of a couple of Santa Ynez’s finest.  Besides, I know the area.  I grew up there.”

“Wait!” Gabriel called as he followed Jack out of the bar.  “You don’t even know what the hell’s going on!  Don’t do this, you’ll get yourself killed!”

Sergeant Jack Downing climbed into the rear compartment of his pickup truck and produced a large shotgun and several boxes of shells.  “I highly doubt that,” Jack replied with a sinister smile then loaded his weapon and ammunition into the driver’s seat and drove off kicking up a cascade of gravel in his wake.

“Damn it!” Gabriel shouted.

“Now what?” Yoshi asked calmly.

“Yeah, what do we do now that commando’s gone all ape shit?”

“We follow him,” Gabriel replied.  “We follow him to Santa Ynez.  Let’s go.”

The sun burst from the mountainous vista brilliantly, haloed in rich shades of gold that paled slightly from its center before brightening against the heavens, melding in arcs of apricot and tangerine until it ignited the skyline.  Each morning Officer Richards awoke to the sun blazing over the horizon, setting the mountains afire with its resplendent light.  Most mornings, such natural beauty inspired him, reminded him that the ugliness inherent in humanity was still set against a beautiful backdrop, a backdrop they would enjoy for a limited amount of time before Earth’s rightful heirs seized it.  But inspiration did not touch him every day, especially after prolonged periods of time spent in the company of horrid humans, trudging after them and writing citations for their various offenses.  Of course their legal infractions were far less offensive than their outward appearances, but his job required that he only penalize for violations of California state law, not aesthetic offenses.  He knew that this day would be among the multitude exhausted enforcing law in the cesspool of civilization, and that a seemingly interminable shift was before him.

Reluctantly, he showered and dressed in his uniform and headed to the Santa Ynez Police Station.  Once there, he was issued a cruiser and set out to patrol the city streets.  The morning hours were filled with traffic stops and domestic disputes.  He found it ridiculous that beings as repugnant as humans became jealous of one another, and competed for one another’s mates.  At times, their envy and distrustfulness became so intense that physical altercations ensued and his involvement became necessary.  Humans, with their wanton emotions and foul lives, never ceased to amaze him.  It was no wonder to him that they were systematically eradicating each other one murder at a time, all the while completely oblivious of the encroachment of a superior race. 

As he contemplated the innumerable characteristics that contributed to the demise of humanity, a more important phenomenon demanded his attention.  His stomach rumbled loudly.  He had not eaten in several hours.  Delaying proper nutrition and instead ruminating over the affronts of a soon to be extinct society was inexcusable.  His body needed sustenance to maintain its glorious appearance, so he began driving to his favorite food truck, a mobile kitchen of sorts that offered a variety of his favorite organic meals.  He located it at its usual location on the corner of Laurel and Mission Drive, parked and moved to the front of a long line of people waiting to be served.  He believed his superiority as both a member of the new race and as a police officer exempted him from pedestrian activities like waiting for food service.  After all, a shepherd did not linger among his sheep as the flock awaited slaughter; he would not loiter with the hungry masses either.

As he approached the step van, its gleaming aluminum exterior reflected his face.  He was pleased by this fact, and added it as another reason to favor the food truck.  He scanned the menu and decided on a healthy sandwich wrap, but when he was about to place his order, he noticed that the man who usually took his order, a sweaty, beastly creature, was not there.  Instead, a woman stood before him.  Tall and fit with bronze skin, ginger colored hair and the greenest eyes he’d ever seen–other than his own.  Jarrod Richards found himself at a loss for words.  She was stunning.  He quickly scrutinized her in search of an imperfection, but found none.  Her complexion was flawless and she wore little eye makeup.  Her hair looked silky, well maintained and devoid of garish extensions.  Her body appeared toned and without unsightly bumps or rolls.  She was clad in skimpy cotton shorts that left little to the imagination and a tank top that clung to her breasts, which were neither too large to be considered sloppy, nor too small to be deemed boyish.  Everything about her looked firm and supple, enticingly perfect.  He briefly forgot where he was, what he was supposed to say to her.

“May I help you?” her voice sang.

“Um, I um, want, um,” he stammered.

He never stammered, never fumbled over his words, never even lost his train of thought.  But this woman, this copper goddess, had sent him in to a tailspin.  And it was not entirely unpleasant.  Of course, he was used to causing a sensation, not being on the receiving end of one and immediately recognized the need to gain control of the situation, of himself.  As he organized his thoughts and assessed her, he was able to determine few facts.  The first was that her exceptional beauty implied membership in the new race, but he knew of every one who lived in Santa Ynez, was responsible for updating Terzini on their progress.  The next was that the succeeding legion was not close to being birthed therefore she
had
to be an ordinary human. 

He was designed to be repulsed by humans, had always been repulsed by humans, but the woman in the lunch truck was unlike any human he’d ever encountered.  She was radiant, exquisite, and appeared deserving of his company.

“Do you need a second to make up your mind officer?” she asked in her melodic voice.

He decided to enchant her, that her beauty merited a glimpse of his dazzling smile.  He allowed the corners of his mouth to tug upward, to grant her a coy smirk. 

“Please, call me Jarrod,” he said then removed his sunglasses to let her see his eyes and their arresting sea foam color.

She smiled, clearly charmed by the potent combination of his smile and eye color.  Fortunately, her teeth were even and an impressive shade of white.

“What do you want today, Jarrod?” she asked and he detected the slightest emphasis on the word
want
. 

She clearly knew of the power her appearance held, knew that it surpassed other humans; her confidence suggested it.  

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” she replied.    “How hungry are you?”

She arched a meticulously groomed eyebrow at him briefly then allowed her features to relax, clearly satisfied with her boldness.

“
Very
,” he answered honestly.