The Raven Mocker (12 page)

Definitely no one here. Not even a single visible footprint in the light blanket of fresh snow, other than those from his waffle-soled shoes. Johnnie must’ve taken off not long after arriving here tonight, around 8 p.m., nearly four hours ago. And to think that John had agreed to switch shifts so Johnnie could be off at midnight on Christmas Eve instead of his pre-assigned shift end time of 6 a.m. Christmas morning.

John hadn’t minded making the shift trade, since it allowed him to pick up two more hours of premium pay. Plus, it made him feel good to help out someone whose stated reason for requesting the trade was their little boy, who’d just turned three a few weeks back. Still healing from his summer divorce to his promiscuous ex-wife, Tracie, John preferred to work as much as possible during the holidays anyway—at least this year.

He stepped up to the entrance and shined his flashlight through the leaded glass, looking for movement inside the building. Hard to tell, but it looked like the temporary guard station table and chair had been knocked over. Probably by Johnnie on the way out of the former dormitory affectionately known amongst the five guards chartered for this gig as “The Langston Icebox.”

He pulled the remaining tape still attached to the torn corner of the note from the entrance door’s expensive glass. Part of the taped portion felt greasy, and when he examined it closer under the flashlight’s glow, he realized the substance was blood.

John stepped back and then looked around him again, pointing the flashlight’s beam in every direction; a little less angry and a bit nervous. A bevy of images from the late night horror flicks he so loved filled his mind, feeding his growing apprehension. It wasn’t until after he continued to look around him that the irrational basis for his unease receded and he regained most of his composure.

Two things were now readily apparent. The blood was in such a small amount that it could’ve come from a pin-prick, or more likely, Johnnie biting his fingernails down to the quick. He’d seen him do that before, usually in monthly briefings with Vernon. The other thing was more intuitive…
there ain’t nobody here but me!
No crazed psychos spying on him from nearby—only the ones from the film clips inside his head.

He smiled, sheepish, aware of how silly his lanky, six-foot-four frame might’ve looked a moment ago, waving his flashlight back and forth warily…if someone actually
had
been watching.

He approached the door again, this time more confident. Locked. Well, at least J.M. had the presence of mind to secure the main entrance before he wigged out.

John unlocked the door. The first order of business would be turning the security lights back on, followed by double-checking to make sure no one was hiding somewhere inside the building. He would then radio Matt Edmonds and his mentor, Steve Holland, to let them know Johnnie had bailed and that he would cover the Langston Hall job as a double-shift until Pete Lindsey relieved him in the morning.

The door groaned tiredly as John entered the building, lamenting out loud about how this assignment would be damn near impossible to manage if anyone else quit. Hell, first Tony Williams ended up being hospitalized Saturday night, and now Tony’s flakey buddy, Johnnie Mercer, goes AWOL. Who else was left for poor Vernon to rely on next? Probably some stiff from the local job corps, John’s best guess.

“
Whe-e-e-w!” he whistled under his breath, after turning on the master control for the overhead fluorescent lights that lined the main floor. He momentarily forgot about calling Matt and Steve. “What the hell happened in here?”

In addition to the overturned card table and chair that served as a terrible substitute for the normal campus guard stations, Maxim magazines lay scattered across the floor. John snickered at the sight of Johnnie’s preferred distraction to help him get through the many long, lonely nights during an assignment like this one. His customary thermos of hot coffee had been turned over; its contents cold and congealed on the floor underscored the haste in which Johnnie vacated his post.

“
Anybody home?” he called out merrily, smiling at the image in his mind of Johnnie leaving in haste.

What’s the big hurry, tough guy?

The heater kicked on suddenly, seemingly in response to his verbal question. He moved over to the shadowed section near the building’s rear, peering up the stairwell as he shined his flashlight toward the second floor. Detecting nothing unusual, he pointed his flashlight down into the basement stairwell. Same old Langston Icebox so far.

Comfortable that the building sat empty aside from him, John’s next priority was to clean up the mess left by his coworker. Grabbing a roll of paper towels from the only restroom on the main floor, he set out to clean the coffee spill. With that taken care of he set the chair and card table back up. He’d just finished stacking Johnnie’s Maxims on one side of the table when he thought he heard footsteps creep across the floor above him.

John’s pulse quickened. The footsteps continued, and his heart began to pound hard in his chest until it felt like the organ would push through his throat in an attempt to flee his trembling torso. Embarrassed by his fear, he summoned what little courage remained and made his feet walk back toward the stairs. His intent was to flick on the switch to the overhead light bulb that dangled from a long wire hanging down from the three-story ceiling above the stairwell. The footsteps above moved along with him, as if the unseen visitor knew his exact location and purposely traced his course to the stairs.

When he arrived at the stairwell the footsteps stopped. But a deep breathing sound resonated above him in the darkness. The air around him quickly grew icy as he reached for the light switch on the wall to his left. He bravely turned on the light anyway, and for a moment the illumination was strong enough to cast a bright glow upon the walls. But then the light flickered, followed by a loud ‘pop’ as the naked bulb burst into a shower of tiny glass chips cascading down toward him. This event took place right after he saw a large grotesque shadow appear on the wall across from the second floor entry.

Seeing something like this would scare anyone, John reasoned. No one in their right mind would consider venturing upstairs alone—definitely not without a weapon offering better protection than the can of mace and heavy flashlight he carried with him. But the low pitched groan that suddenly arose from the murky depths of the basement stairwell below him erased any thought of investigating
anything
at
any
time in this place.

A choking sound accompanied the groan, as if something attempted to clear its throat. It might’ve seemed somewhat human if not for the slithering sound that soon followed. That wasn’t human. Nor the sound of its enormous mass brushing against the darkened sides of the lower stairwell as it began to climb the stairs.

Another groan, much louder than the first, arose from beneath the floor he stood upon…
Was that a smacking sound I just heard? ‘Sounds like that enormous motherfucker’s real hungry!!

Before he could define the noises further, a high pitched cackle pierced the air in the stairwell above the first floor. The wooden stairs soon creaked in rhythm, announcing that perhaps the owner of the bloodcurdling guffaw was on its way down to meet him. The soft red hairs attached to the goose flesh along John’s entire body sprang to life and his bowels immediately loosened. If the owners of the groan and menacing laughter were out to frighten the night watchman beyond his wits, nothing more was needed. Before either menace reached the main floor, John Campbell had already fled the building, his terrified cries ripping through the early Christmas morning peacefulness.

He later wrote in his resignation letter that he saw something, though not near in as much detail as what he’d eventually tell the Knoxville police detectives investigating three seemingly related homicides. As John turned one last time toward Langston Hall, he could’ve sworn someone looked out through the open doorway on the first floor. Someone or some
thing
.

Under the fluorescent glow from the row of lights that lined the main floor’s ceiling, the dim tall figure looked like some old naked man with long groove-like scars upon his face and body. His stringy grey hair was matted with clumps of black feathers in his hair. But the thing that made John think the ‘man’ wasn’t really a human being were the bright yellow eyes—almost cat like—and his smile. When he smiled at John, he pulled back his lips eerily wide…wide enough to reveal two rows of long, jagged sharp teeth.

Chapter Thirteen

“
Mommy! Daddy! Look what Santa brought me!!”

Christopher excitedly held up one of the game controllers for the latest X-Box version left under the tree. He then reached for the Spiderman skateboard and matching helmet, nearly tripping over the huge pile of wadded gift-wrap paper he’d created in his haste to find out what St. Nicholas brought him.

“
Wow! That’s
great
, honey!” said Miriam, with as much enthusiasm as three and a half hours of sleep could support. Just as she and David accurately predicted the night before, their youngest child was up as soon as the first hint of dawn crept in through his bedroom window upstairs. ”See…didn’t we tell you how proud Santa is about your good grades in school and how you keep up on your chores?”

“
And, I’m sure he remembered all of the projects you helped me with this past summer,” added David. “It looks like Santa must’ve
really
liked the cookies and milk you set out for him.”

David pointed to the small table next to the recliner. The empty plate and drained milk glass were all that remained from the Tollhouse cookies that Miriam prepared and wrapped in green cellophane for Santa to nibble on while setting up the gifts he brought for Christopher and his older siblings. Tyler seemed very pleased with the latest Rock Band upgrade and his new laptop, similar to one given to Janice the night before. As for Jillian, she seemed just as happy with the diamond/emerald pendant she received, along with the winter wardrobe collection of new dresses, sweaters, designer jeans, and a genuine pair of jade snakeskin boots she had her eye on for the past few months.

David felt especially proud of his older kids’ patience with Christopher’s continual badgering about their lists to Santa Claus. They both confirmed several times this morning that they, too, had sent letters to the North Pole detailing their hearts’ desires laid bare for Santa and his trusty elves to take care of. Even so, David couldn’t help snickering in response to the look on Tyler’s face, which clearly announced his suppressed urge to tell his little brother that all of the presents under the tree each Christmas morning came from Mom and Dad.

“
Well, good morning, ya’ll!” said Ruth, walking gingerly into the living room from the foyer. Already dressed for the day, her hair primped and makeup on, she wore a colorful green pantsuit embroidered with sequined reindeer and wreaths.

“
Good morning to you, too, Auntie!” said David, moving over to give her a gentle hug to start the day. His sentiments echoed enthusiastically by everyone else, Sadie jumped down from her perch on Jillian’s lap to come greet Ruth as well, her tail wagged wildly as she pawed Ruth’s legs to coax her into picking her up.

“
Would you like some coffee or tea to start the day off right?” offered Miriam, tightening the neck on her bathrobe, perhaps a little self-conscious since Ruth was fully dressed.

“
That would be lovely, dear!” Ruth replied. “But don’t trouble yourself—I’ll be more than happy to take care of it. You just take time to enjoy the kids. Lord knows, moments like these will fall through your fingers like a summer rain.”

Before Miriam could protest, Ruth was already on her way to the kitchen, pausing only to give hugs to her grand nephews and niece. “Would anyone else like for me to fetch them something from the kitchen while I’m in there?” she asked before disappearing from view.

Miriam said she’d take some tea, if Ruth intended to fix a cup for herself. When she confirmed it was indeed what she had in mind, David chimed in that he would also enjoy a cup. Jillian and Tyler soon followed, leaving Christopher the lone dissenter. The youngest Hobbs member wanted a glass of chocolate milk, which David volunteered to get for him. Miriam joined him as he headed for the kitchen, ready to start preparing breakfast.

While the skillets warmed up, Miriam paused to drink her tea and share some light conversation with Ruth in the living room. Seated on the sofa, Christopher and Jillian flanked their great aunt on either side, with Sadie sitting contented upon her lap.

“
So did you have any trouble sleeping last night?” asked Miriam, noticing the slight redness around the rims of Ruth’s eyes.

“
Oh, I slept very well, I believe,” she replied. “The question is whether or not I kept ya’ll up by sawing more logs than a legion of beavers in the Chattahoochee River basin!” She laughed. “David should remember how it was growing up in our house back in Chattanooga, how everyone snored something awful. Although he didn’t snore much as a kid, I’d be surprised if he hasn’t kept you up some nights, being a Hobbs and all.”

“
Usually
she’s
the one keeping
me
awake,” said David, wryly, earning him a prompt nudge from Miriam. “They all snore more than me—including Chris. It can get pretty loud upstairs, Auntie. You have no idea.”