142 (2)

Dale closed his eyes as tightly as he could.  He braced himself for the bullet.  He tried to think of everyone he still needed to say ‘I’m sorry’ to.  He thought of his mother, his brother and his cousins.  He wasn’t ready.

CLICK

The sound of the revolver dry firing snapped him from the precipice of a flashback to his entire life.  His eyes opened, his teeth unclenched, and he could feel a few tears running down his cheek.  Laura had a look of whimsical confusion on her face.  She tucked the gun behind her, and shrugged as she smiled at Dale.  She then reached for something in her front pocket.  “Hold this” she said as she tossed a metal ring at Dale’s face.  The ring bounced off his head as Laura threw something at the hole in his car’s windshield.  She began walking towards him.  Dale’s car exploded in a large ball of dancing oranges, reds and yellows.  Laura was past him as a few small pieces of the car landed near or on Dale.  The car lit up the countryside as it burned.  Dale felt a hot wind blow by him, then he felt two arms drape over his shoulders.  He saw a black gloved hand open his shirt pocket and place a bullet in it.  “If you tell them about me, I’ll find you and make sure all six chambers are loaded.”  Dale heard footsteps, and then a car starting.  He heard the tires rolling away.

Then, the tires stopped.  He heard a car door open, and footsteps coming towards him.  Laura crouched in front of him, and put her hands on either sides of his head.  Dale instantly thought she was going to snap his neck.  Instead, she pulled his head forward, and leaned into him.  Her lips met his, and she gave him a long, slow, wet kiss.  Dale’s shock gave way to an unusual calm, and an odd feeling of ease.  Laura pulled her lips from his and rested her forehead on his.  She slid her face against his,  brushing her cheek against his.  He could feel her breath in his hear.  “Dale?”

“Y…yes?”

“I will find you.”  Laura then stood up and walked to her car.  The engine revved and soon Dale was alone on I-29, with only his burning car as his company.

***

“My name is Robert Fulton.  I’m from Spearfish, I live in Sioux Falls, and I sell Volkswagens.  I have a degree in history from USD.  In the last twenty-four or so hours, one of my two best friends on Earth died.  I cried alone, and I cried when I could.  Since then I’ve been threatened at gunpoint.  I’ve been in a high speed chase.  I’ve been shot at and I’ve hid in a smelly old AMC Pacer.  I listened to a crazy old game show addict and hid in a boxcar to avoid the police asking questions.  I pooped in a corner like a guinea pig, and watched my other best friend almost die to help us get off the train, even if it wasn’t where I wanted to go.  I’ve lied to police and almost choked on a cheeseburger.  Worst of all, an error in judgement will probably lead to me losing my other best friend on Earth, and looking back I can’t say that I blame him one bit.  Believe me when I say that if I knew what you wanted, or could say what you wanted to hear, I would.  The only condition would be that you point me to the nearest bar so that I may drink myself into oblivion.”

Jeremiah looked at Bob with amazement.  “Usually nobody responds when we ask if they have anything to say.  That rant was a record.  Sadly, it doesn’t change anything, or answer my questions.”  Jeremiah started to take off his jacket, and Bob hung his head.

141 (1)

Highway Patrolman Dale Roberts blinked rapidly as he snapped back to reality.  Water was dripping down his face, and he was still trying to blink his way back to consciousness.  The last thing he remembered was looking at Laura Dell’s driver’s licence and noticing two wires.  He remembered a sensation akin to being tasered, but stronger and…different.

“Wake up…Dale.”

Dale sputtered water out of his mouth and looked up.  Laura was now out of her car, and she was in a catcher’s crouch in front of him.  She was holding an empty water bottle, and strands of her black hair had broken free of her pony tail holder.  Her stray hair blew in the South Dakota breeze, as she stared at Dale with a look Dale couldn’t even describe.  She slowly stood up, and Dale tried to do the same.  His attempt didn’t even get off the ground, as he realized his legs had been zip stripped, and his hands were cuffed behind him.  He looked up and over his shoulder, realizing his hands were cuffed behind a mile marker he couldn’t quite read.  When he looked forward again, Laura had disappeared.  He saw his squad car about 150 feed away, with all of the lights still on.  Laura walked in front of him again, and walked slowly towards his car.

“Ma’am…you’re in a lot of tr-”

BLAM

Dale’s head lurched back as the shotgun blast rang out across the empty stretch of interestate.  Laura fired several more times at his car, and then hammered at the windshield with the gun’s stock until the bulletproof glass gave-way in one spot, leaving a hole no bigger than a bowling ball.  Laura slowly walked back with a slight smirk, and one finger across her lips.  Dale frantically looked around his body.  His gun and belt were gone, his badge was gone, and so were his keys.  Dale bent his knees and tried to stand, using the mile marker sign as leverage.  His body moved up a few inches and stopped, once he felt the handcuffs snug up.  He sank back down as he heard footsteps.

“I zip stripped the cuffs to the marker.  Those holes in sign posts come in handy.”  Dale took a deep breath as he heard her voice, and approaching footsteps.  She suddenly crouched down right in front of him, and her smile had only grown.  “Now Dale, I need to ask you something, and be honest.  When help comes, and they find you here, are you going to tell them about me?”

“Of course!  You are in big troub-”

Laura placed one finger on his lips.  She used the other hand to pull out a revolver.  Slowly and deliberately, she loaded one bullet.  She looked him in the eye again.  “Are you going to tell them about me?”

“Yes.”

Laura loaded a second bullet into the gun.  “Are you going to tell them about me?”

Dale hesitated for a second.  “No.”

“You’re lying” Laura said.  She loaded a third bullet.  “Are you going to tell them about me?”

Dale looked at the gun, and looked up to Laura’s eyes.  “Maybe.”

Laura slowly loaded a fourth bullet.  She shook her head, then asked again, “Are you going to tell them about me?”  Dale’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.  “That’s a yes.  Oh Dale, I’m running out of chambers here.”  Laura pulled out a fifth bullet, and slowly slid it into the chamber.  She held the gun up and locked her eyes with Dale’s.  “Last time I’m going to ask Dale.  When they find you out here, and they ask you who did this, what are you going to tell them?”

Dale looked at the gun, then at Laura.  She had the gun in one hand, and a single bullet in the other.  Her smile was gone.  “I don’t remember who did this.  It’s all fuzzy” Dale said, almost not believing he was saying it.  He noticed his breathing had accelerated, and he had an overwhelming feeling of doom.  Laura slowly placed the bullet in her pocket.  She stood up and smiled.

“I believe you, but I wish you’d said that earlier.”  She spun the cylinder of the revolver, then with a flick of the wrist she locked one of the chambers in place.  She cocked the hammer and pointed the gun at Dale’s head.

115 (3)

*KREESH*

Glass tumbled to the floor from the shattered patio door. Laura Black walked into the apartment and collapsed onto the couch. She was finally back in her apartment, but the journey was not one she’d duplicate willingly. She had a bump on her head from falling backwards when the police station shook from an explosion that she was assuming was courtesy of Jeremiah and Jebediah. Her left shoulder ached from ramming into Clayton’s midsection when he opened the door to see what had happened. There were blood streaks from her upper arms where she had cut her skin while hooking her shirt sleeves on broken glass and a chain link fence. Knees and ankles were sore from her jump out of a second floor window. Her shirt was ripped across the front where she had ripped her badge off with her teeth. Slowly, she slouched forward and slowly stood up. She walked to her bedroom door which was closed. She opened it with a kick, and proceeded to walk to her nightstand. Her face winced as she dropped to her knees and turned herself around. She bent forward as her handcuffed arms dug in the drawer for her spare handcuff keys. After what seemed like thirty minutes as opposed to thirty seconds, she had found the key and was soon finally able to free her wrists, which were now bruised and bloodied from her four hour trek back here, and her difficult journey to her second floor balcony. At least it will be easier to leave she thought to herself as she tossed the cuffs into the garbage. She tore off what remained of her police uniform and started debating whether or not she should shower before going in search of Jeremiah and Jebediah.

***

“MESSAGE THREE”

“Mabel, this is officer Bucholz from the Sioux Falls police department. We’d like to ask you some questions about earlier this afternoon. We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a few hours now, so could call us as soon as possible please? Thanks for your time.”

B shook his head, and Mabel closed his phone. “You don’t want me to go back to the station?”

“You heard the news. It’s not safe there. What with cars blowing up and stuff.”

“Seriously, you think that the police station is unsafe?”

“You tell me. You went there to be safe, and saw the two men who had you at gunpoint.”

“What are we going to do?”

B looked down the street. He looked down and saw how tightly he was gripping the wheel of his Pacer. He looked back up as he started the car back up. “We’re going to keep a low profile for now. I have no idea where Bob and Phil got whisked off to. I don’t know how to find them. I…I honestly don’t know what to do Mabel. I don’t know why I’m keeping you out on some damn attempt to be useful again.” B slowed the car as they came to a stoplight, and Mabel put her hand on his shoulder.

“You are a much more complicated man that I gave you credit for Bartholomew, if I may call you that.”

B glanced over at Mabel. “You may, but don’t do it often. Say, would you be up for a short jaunt to Canton?”

114 (2)

Will Hetfield’s mind was a mess. It was a jumble of images and sounds, and none of them were helping him relax. He kept flashing back to the black Cadillac, in a moment there, and the next moment gone. He remembered getting up and grabbing his head, and seeing his hands bloody as he looked around. There was broken glass everywhere, and Tina’s body was limp and partially on top of his. He remembered hearing sirens in every direction, and stumbling into the station, only to be hauled out to an ambulance. Now, he was sitting in a waiting room with an ice pack on his head, squinting to see the closed captioning on the KELO newscast.

“Mr. Hetfield?”

Will looked up and to his left. He vaguely recognized the doctor who had worked on him earlier. He was a middle-aged Hispanic man, and his face looked alert and serious. “Yes…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I am Doctor Henriquez. I treated you and several others who came in today. Thankfully, there were very few severe injuries.”

“What…what happened to me?”

“You have a mild concussion, and a piece of debris nicked your head. We had to do a few stitches, but you’re free to go.”

“How, how is officer Tina Vig?”

Doctor Henriquez took a deep breath. Will had seen that before, whenever a doctor was telling a family bad news. “She isn’t good. We had to dig several pieces of shrapnel out of her back. She has a concussion, and she lost a lot of blood. She’s still unconscious and in intensive care.”

Will lowered the ice pack from his head and stood up. He teetered for a moment and the doctor quickly caught him. “Can I…whoa…”

“Easy Mr. Hetfield. You do have a slight concussion, and you’ve had a long day. I think you seriously need to get some rest.”

“I’ll rest later. I need to see her.”

***

“Hale, who’s all there?” The police chief’s voice boomed through the speaker phone. Captain Hale leaned forward.

“I’m here sir, along with N.R.O. agent Garrett, N.G.A. agent Lewis, and F.B.I. agent Iron-Horse.”

“What the hell are we going to tell the press? Who do we pin the blame of this cluster on?” The chief’s voice was angry, and the speaker crackled in spots.

“I have a story ready to go about a training exercise with explosives that we can pin back on the explosives manufacturer.” Garrett closed his laptop as he bent towards the phone. The four of them were all bent slightly forward around Hale’s desk.

“Who on Earth is going to buy that malarkey?”

“It’s textbook, but it seems to work most of the time.”

“I want options dammit! The mayor is on my ass to ease the public’s mind about this!”

“Say the matter is under investigation but have the boys in the lab cook up a reason that it was mechanical failure, causing the gas tank to blow.”

“Not bad Hale.”

“Actually, bad. Anyone who’s watched Mythbusters knows that gas tanks don’t explode at the level that car blew.” Clayton finished his statement and felt all eyes shift to him, and few of them looked happy.

“Is that the F.B.I. guy? Well, what’s your bright idea?” The chief’s question echoed for a moment, and Clayton carefully considered his response.

28

“What’s your name kid?”

“F-f-f-Francis”

“Listen Francis, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Uh…okay.”

“Do you have access to the security feed?  I’d rather not be on the security feed.”

“I…I think I can arrange that.  It’s all recorded on hard drive, and it crashes a lot.  I can make it look like one.”

“Great.  Here’s money for the gas and the water.  What magazine were you reading?”

“Gamepro.”

She reached into her jacket pocket and handed him a ten dollar bill.  “Here, that should get you a new one.”

“Thanks…”  Francis was staring again.

“Listen Francis, I’m flattered.  Really.  But I have some work to do, and I’m not in town long.  If you can crash that video feed, I’ll make sure to come back next time I’m in town, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”  Mokoto walked towards the door.  “Excuse me, but, is…is he dead?”  She glanced back at the floor.  The ski mask was cut in spots and shards of glass from the counter were still in it.  His arm was twisted at a very wrong angle, and now rested under his back.  She stared at him for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. 

“He’s alive, but he passed out from pain.  I’d call for an ambulance, after you take care of the security feed.”  She winked and walked out the door. 

***

The old blanket gave up dust to the sudden intake of air from underneath it.  The dust travelled quickly through the air, entering a dark passageway.  The dust had no malice, no intent, and no designs on anything or anyone.  The dust simply began triggering histamines.  The histamines also had no agenda and no great plan, but the dust gave them a reason to spring to action.  Within seconds, nerve cells fired, brain cells sent signals, and their ultimate goal was soon achieved.

“AHCHOO!”

Old Man B’s eyes shot open wide.  He quickly pulled off 41st Street onto Prairie Avenue.  He brought the car to a swift stop, then reached for his glove-box.  The old .38 special he kept in there tumbled to the floor.  He heard the blanket in the back move again.

“Old Man B, I can explain.” came a slightly familiar voice from the back.

“Bob?”  He turned around, and he saw Bob and Phil, lying in the back of his Pacer.  “What kinda crazy stunt is this?  How the hell did you get in my car?”

Phil sniffled loudly.  “You never lock the doors on this thing.  You never clean it either.”

“Okay, fine.  Why on God’s green earth are you hiding in my car?  How long have you two been back there?”

“Just since before you left the bookstore.”  Bob said, looking out the back of the car.  “Listen, we needed to get around without being seen.  The police want to question us about something, and we’re not sure what.  I mean, we have ideas, but…it’s…a long story.”

Old Man B picked up the pistol.  “Well, I know a thing or two about running from the law, but you two had better give me a good reason for that, and for scaring the crap outta me by hidin’ in my Pacer.  Now, start talkin’.”

***

The headlights hit the “EXIT” sign.  The Crown Victoria slowly merged to the right, twisting in the night to jump from one lonely stretch of asphalt and billboards to another that wasn’t so lonely, at least in this part of the great plains.  Soon the car was southbound on Interstate 29.  Soon Gerrard, soon I’ll finally close this case.  The car roared onward into Sioux Falls city limits, and the driver let himself smile for the first time since the drive from the FBI’s field office in Minneapolis.

5

Bob froze in place.

“Dammit!”

Bob turned around and saw Phil in the kitchen. His arms were raised near his head.

“Phil? What the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry” Phil replied, tried to calm Bob down. “I was just looking for clues on the counter, and I knocked a glass over.”

Bob looked puzzled. “Wait, so you didn’t want to come in, and now you think you’re Fred from Scooby-Doo?”

Phil walked around the counter to the living room. “Hey, this is some weirdness going on. The empty cases, the missing iPod but the TV and cash are here? Can you think of an explanation? Because I can’t, and that makes me think there’s something going on here.”

“Phil, you wanted to call the cops, and now you’re auditioning for the Sleuth Channel?”

Phil was standing right in front of Bob now, and he raised the angry tone of his voice, if not the volume. “I haven’t heard you mention any theories about this weirdness. CDs and VHS tapes? A missing iPod? Do you not care about what might have happened here?”

Bob responded with a similar angry whisper “Look, whatever happened here, we’ll let the police figure it out. I sell cars, and you work human resources! We’re not exactly Law and Order, or even Simon and Simon here!”

Phil stared at him, taking a deep breath. “Well, lead on. Let’s get your sunglasses and get out of here. Do you see them in here?”

Bob looked all around the apartment again. He didn’t see them anywhere they might be, or in spots they shouldn’t be. That left the bedroom and bathroom. Bob turned and walked into the bedroom, with Phil right behind him. The bedroom was in a perfect state of bachelor-dom. There were clothes everywhere, the laundry hamper was overflowing, and the bed looked like it hadn’t been made in years. Bob glanced around at the table by the bed, and at the floor near the hamper.

“Hey Bob, check this out. His computer has been gutted too.”

Bob looked over at the computer desk. The PC tower had been slid out, and the hard drive had been removed. More empty jewel cases littered the floor. Then, he spotted his lucky sunglasses, sitting on top of the monitor. “Hey, my sunglasses!” he said as he grabbed them and put them in his inner jacket pocket. Phil rolled his eyes, then stepped around the mess into the bathroom.

“What are you doing Phil? Can’t you hold it until we get back to our place?”

“I’m just looking for more clues as to what the hell happened here.” Phil said, as he poked around the sink, his hands still in his jacket sleeves. Bob walked over to the door of the bathroom, looking around impatiently.

“Let’s go already.”

Suddenly, they heard the front door creak open a bit further, and the sound of boots in the main room.