Welcome to Write the Story! Each month, Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms. Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support!
Walking Shoes
Calliope Njo
“Hannah? I have something to give to you.” Mom met me when I came inside from the back. She held out a wooden box that was as big as her palm. “Now, nobody knows why we have this or even if it had any value. Only that it’s supposed to be passed on at some point. Something could’ve come along with it, but that was lost during the Korean War. It got left behind somewhere at some point.”
I looked inside, and it was a cameo. The background was a sort of charcoal grey, black onyx around the border, with a hematite gem hanging from it. I didn’t have a use for it. “Thanks, Mom.” When I put it back in the box, it poked me. I shook my hand while I walked up the hallway to my room. Once on top of my dresser, I opened the closet to pick and choose which clothes to pack.
It was between the end of winter and early spring. That meant the morning would be cold, and the afternoon would be a little warmer. That was over here, though. I looked at the message and it did say to be sure pack clothes for warm weather. Huh.
Well, that meant t-shirts, cargo pants, and flip flops. On the other hand, sometimes people took pictures of me dressed in that kind of outfit. My boss saw the pictures a passerby took of me wearing the said outfit. That lecture lasted about an hour with the last words being a warning never to do that again, or else. No more cargo pants and no more flip flops.
It was my first solo assignment, so I had to do things right. I remembered reading the initial report of shoes appearing on the main path in the abandoned village and walking—the shoes themselves without anybody in them. They wanted to know the validity of the stories.
I found a story about the village of the same name. It used to be a gold mining town. When the mines ran dry, the people ran away, too. A few stayed behind in the hopes of it becoming useful again. Well, it didn’t.
All of that seemed too true and too phony at the same time. I didn’t know. It was twelve-thirty and I decided to get to bed at that point. Mom was still up and she brought Peetee with her. The funny part was she walked in my direction. Her room was at the opposite end.
Mom opened my door. “Oh. Will you be able to call?”
“I don’t think so. It seems to be an out-of-the-way place. I didn’t check, but I don’t think there are any WiFi towers out there. Night.”
“All right. Night.”
I set my alarm to go off at six o’clock in the morning. Way too early for me, but I needed the time in order to get there on time. I needed a little while in order to set up.
Before I left, I looked at the cameo again and threw it in the bag. I had everything so I left the house. Breakfast at McDonald’s would work out fine.
My phone rang as soon as I pulled out of the parking lot. I let it go, since I never could coordinate driving and using the telephone at the same time. It rang again, so I pulled into a store parking lot.
“Yeah. Hello?” I had the last bite of the breakfast sandwich.
“Did Donald tell you I was going with you?”
“Who is this?” I drank my coffee.
“Well. That answers that. OK. My name’s David MacGillicuddy. We were supposed to go to Whoknowsville together. It seems you didn’t get the message.”
“I was told this would be my first solo assignment. Nobody said I was going to have a partner. Where is Whoknowsville?”
He groaned and said a few cuss words. “OK. I’m at Main and J Street in front of the gas station. I’ll call Donald again to find out what the frigin’ thing is going on. I’m wearing Levi’s and a blue t-shirt.” He hung up.
I hung up and waited a minute before I left to pick up my mysterious partner. I wasn’t against it, but it wasn’t what I was told. A huge U-turn later, I was on my way.
There he was, sitting on the curb in front of the store. He stood up, and holy cow, was he gorgeous. Shoulder length blonde hair, sunglasses, and not a happy smile that was on his face.
“You must be Hannah. I’ll drive since we have to stop along the way.”
“Yeah, I’m Hannah Doyle. Why should I let you drive?”
He squatted and looked at me through the window. “I promise. No tickets. No wants. No warrants. I have to go to my Grandfather’s birthday party. Yeah, I know. Bad timing. So I’ll drive and explain the case along the way.”
I got out of the car and went to the passenger side. He got into the driver’s side. “This reminds me of Autie’s car. Excuse me a minute.” He adjusted the seat and started the car. Awesome. All right. The summarized version of the conversation was that he forgot to mention it. The drive to Grandfather’s party is about forty-five minutes from here, and it’ll last about an hour to an hour and a half.”
I groaned. “He forgot to mention it. He’s supposed to be—” I stopped there before the cuss words came out. “Shouldn’t we get to where we’re supposed to go?”
“He’s supposed to be the friggin’ boss in charge of everything, and he can’t even plan these adventures. Yeah. Yeah. Been there said that. As for this case, that little town isn’t going anywhere. We have as long as we need to find any clues. This town was a gold miner’s town. Well, the gold ran dry along with the town. Out of nowhere, shoes started to hang from the only line in the village. It’s a guess that black magic worshipers came in and opened a doorway they never closed. We are supposed to go there and figure things out.”
We took the freeway for the most part. I never drove on this side of town because this was the rich side, with waterfront mansions and sculptured bushes. There was a club in the middle of everything. One had to know someone in order to get in. That’s why I lived down the hill, where the regular working class lived. There were no golden gates or prize-winning swans.
“OK. My family is military and law enforcement. If they’re not in it, they’re on their way. My grandfather prefers General unless you’re related. He turned seventy-five today. All you have to do is walk by, wave, and say happy birthday. I’ll either be pulling grill duty or walking around. If you need something, wave your hand, and somebody will see you. I’m sorry we’re going here, but this is unavoidable.”
“You could stay here while I go and investigate.”
“No. That won’t work because I have to go along with you. Donald is a tad paranoid when it comes to these things. Why he brought you in, I have no idea. I think he got used to the figurehead idea and brought you in without asking any questions. An untrained, not knowledgeable individual who could very well take over and leave the rest of us. His words, not mine.”
We turned into an area by a log mansion. I’d say log cabin, but it was the size of a mansion. Holy cow, it was huge. People were walking around dressed like I was, dogs were running and chasing something, and there was a group of people in the back corner.
“All right. Here we go.” He got out, walked around the car, and opened my door. I was trying to take care of the trash when he did that.
“Oh. Thank you.”
“After you.” He closed and locked the doors. “You don’t have a switch to lock the car?”
“It’s an old car. It’s all I could afford.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
All kinds of people were there. People with short hair, people with their hair up, and then there was me who had no idea what was going on.
We spent a good portion of the day there. I stayed by the lake for the most part and watched the ducks. It brought me back to the parties I went to with Glen, except not as nice. Nobody and nothing screaming on top of that.
I jumped when someone put their hand on my shoulder. I looked up and it was David. “Hi.”
“Hi. Are you OK?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Uh huh. I’ve been getting various reports about you standing in the same spot since we arrived. Look, if you’re hungry, there is food.”
“Uh. No, thank you.”
“Uh huh.” He left.
For some reason, it made me want to stay in that spot but Mother Nature was screaming at me at the time. I had to leave that spot.
A little girl gave me directions, and I was never so grateful. When I came out David stood by the door and held out his hand.
“You remind me of the kids that used to line the street where I was stationed. They would stay in one spot and would only leave for one reason. It took a lot for me to get them up and away from the area. Come on, let’s go get some food before everybody eats it all.”
The food looked so good, and the aroma had hints of smoke. Breakfast wasn’t too long ago, but I was hungry. The grilled food table looked so good.
“You know. It might be easier if you pick one, put it on your plate, and eat it. I promise, no one poisoned it. OK?” He looked right at me. “There’s something else isn’t there. I can go into the kitchen and find something if nothing is out here for you.”
I had flashes of Glen yelling at me for being hungry. I blinked my eyes to try and erase the memories. One always had to move forward and not backward in order to make progress.
“Hannah?”
“Oh. Sorry. It’s just that it all looks so good. I don’t know which one to pick.”
“Uh huh.” David left me there.
I picked up a couple sausages, some bread, and a bit of the potato salad. I dropped by the beverage table and picked up some tea. I left there and took a slow stroll back to the ducks.
After I finished, I threw my plate away. I looked over at the crowd with kids playing and swimming. The grown ups were standing around and talking. That’s what was supposed to happen wasn’t it?
I went back to the ducks and I had the sudden urge to sing Celine Dion’s song. I faced the water and imagined the words as I looked into the water. It was only then that I felt relaxed. He was the past. A place that should be left behind.
When I finished, I heard clapping. I turned around and people stood behind me smiling. I got stuck to that spot. My intention wasn’t to perform. I didn’t know what my intention was but it wasn’t that.
Then a tall woman with white hair in a bun came towards me. “My name’s Margaret. David said he brought someone. He didn’t mention you knew how to sing.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mouth seemed to be stuck. I stood there and smiled.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear. It’ll be OK. Go on and enjoy yourself. My husband is walking around and should be here in a little bit.”
I nodded.
No worder it was quiet. My backup singers left the lake. Maybe they had to take a nap or something. I still heard Glen in my head yelling at me. Why couldn’t it go away? I wanted it to stop.
I looked around the area to look for any trash, since there wasn’t anything, I went back to the car and waited. I forgot he had the keys so I couldn’t leave. I sat on the hood of the car.
I made another trip and returned to the car. Somebody whistled when they got closer. I looked up and it was David.
“Hannah.” He sat down next to me. “When Grandmother told me she met the loneliest-looking girl, I had a feeling I knew who she was describing. I didn’t need to ask. The voice of an angel with the loneliest soul. Something had to have happened to make you be that way. I shouldn’t ask this but I’m going to anyway. What happened? I’ve seen your tapes. This isn’t the you that I saw on those tapes. What changed?”
He asked. I didn’t want to tell because it wasn’t his business. It wouldn’t matter anyway. A squirrel ran in front of me and up a tree.
“Hannah.”
I curled up into a tight ball so that maybe I could disappear into the ground somewhere.
He stood up and left me. I had to get over it. Why he brought all of this up I had no idea. I couldn’t explain it. The woman in those videos was different because there were different people around me. Then he showed up and all of these emotions I thought I worked through reappeared again.
We stopped for gas along the way. He pumped and I paid. I could hear Glen tell me what a useless woman I was. I had to forget that though. There was a job to get done and I couldn’t do that if I was stuck in the past. I took a deep breath and along the way I smelled cologne. I stopped and looked in front of me. “Hi. Sorry.”
“It’s OK. I won’t ask again. I don’t want to scare you off. So how about if we keep going. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“So there’s my lovely,” a woman’s voice said.
Huh? What is it? What’s going on? Did I fall asleep?
“Here. Take a drink.” The woman put a cup to my lips. It smelled fruity but I didn’t know what it was or if it any drugs in it.
I waited until she lowered the cup. I could tell that because I didn’t smell it anymore and there was no more pressure against my lips. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Easy, Lovely. I am sure you heard the story. Yes?”
“What story?”
“Wasn’t there a scroll that introduced this situation to you?”
“No. All I got was a pin. That’s it.”
“All right. Then, I shall be brief. I am Celeste, a sorceress. My duty is to train you to be able to defeat the wandering evil souls that seemed to have plagued this world. You watch for me and listen for me. I assure you, I will not in any form inhabit your being. It is a waste of time and energy. For which the recovery is long and unpleasant.’
“Even if all of that is true, how do I know you’re for real.”
“Your prior love has left you scarred and afraid. Not a bad thing. Not a good thing either. I see I must start from the beginning then. We will speak again later.”
“Wait.” I opened my eyes and we were pulled over.
“Hannah. Are you all right? Your breathing became uneven and you talked in your sleep.”
“I’m fine.”
“Can we cut the bullshit and just tell me what’s going on. Huh? I can guarantee you nobody else will know what you told me.”
“I don’t know how or where to start. It just sort of comes in my head. I can’t describe it other than that.”
“You know. I have a lot of aunts and uncles who work in various forms of law enforcement. Some of them have a degree or two in clinical psychology. If you ever feel it necessary, let me know. Me personally, I work with paranormal experts, I have handled weapons although not for a long while, and I’ve learned to listen. Mom tells me I have a healer’s heart. I haven’t figured out what that means yet but I’m trying. I’m telling you all of this because I see a conflict. There’s a lot that you’re saying and a lot you’re not. So when you feel ready, I’m here.” We started on our way again.
I heard the words but I didn’t know if I could trust him or not. I had to wait and see.
It must’ve been way late when we got there. No form of lighting around the area. It was good for filming, but I needed certain equipment in order to record.
Careful, Lovely. Something evil is afoot, but I am not sure what yet. You should settle somewhere away from this area until I know more.
There she was again. In my head. I didn’t know if I liked it or not. I kept thinking that I should be like everybody else and go see a therapist for this. Then again, people would call me crazy, or even go so far as to call me insane.
Someone touched my shoulder and I jumped as a result.
“Easy. Easy. Just me. There’s nothing around here. We would have to go back to the closest place that has some form of residence. That was back about five miles. So, we’ll go there and find a place to stay.”
I was fine with that. Once we got moving again, I watched the street lights. We pulled into the parking lot of an old hotel, blinking neon sign and all. We walked in together and I about puked. Bleach white and pukey pink color theme? Oh God. It was the only place and it shouldn’t take too long. I hoped.
We were lucky and there were two rooms available. We were right across from one another so it wasn’t too hard to find each other.
I couldn’t sleep because I wondered if Glen was out there watching me. I turned on the TV to have background noise. Otherwise, I sat on the bed and waited until the sun popped up.
I called Mom and told her I found a place to stay. I didn’t know for how long though. I hung up and got cleaned up. I grabbed the cameo and put it in my pocket. At the same time praying I wouldn’t stick myself.
I knocked on David’s door and he opened it. “Morning. Back in a minute.” He closed the door.
It didn’t seem to be a busy hotel without anyone or anything making noise. It would’ve been obvious if Glen showed up with his Harley and how he enjoys revving it up. I hated it when he did that which was why he did it.
We got back in the car and returned to the town. The buildings were still up and the shoes were still there. Other than that, nothing. I couldn’t even get anybody’s side of the story because there was nobody there.
I have investigated this area and it seems to come from the mining area. Novice magic goers opened a doorway they failed to close. As such, it left a passageway to this world to steal everybody’s soul. The people of this area became a victim of this demon. That is why nobody is here.
It had to be Celeste. As for the information, part of that I already knew. The other part I wasn’t sure how to classify. I kept looking around and nothing was there. Not a damned thing. I would pack up and leave, but it wasn’t my call to make.
“OK. It’s sorta hard to investigate an area when there’s no people around. I already tried asking the staff of the hotel, and they didn’t know anything. I don’t know.”
Don’t touch the shoes. There is a spell that could be cast to steal one’s soul. Shoes are a part of that spell.
I watched as David pulled down a pair from the wire. He didn’t put them on his feet, the shoes looked too small, but in the process it landed on his hand. He took it off and hung it from the wire again.
David looked at me and his eyes changed. He wore sunglasses to protect his eyes, but I saw them when we met again before we left the hotel. He still had his sunglasses off and they turned blank. Glen’s were brown and they turned black whenever he felt like being mean. David’s were blank. Something happened.
His soul was taken.
I needed to get in there.
I cannot, not without risking your life. Nevermind the amount of energy it would take to do that.
Please, Celeste. He has a full and happy family. My life isn’t worth saving.
We will talk about that later. I will return when I am ready. This is going to take time.
I fluttered my lips. There was nothing else to do. The time it took to look around was about ten minutes. She still didn’t come back to me.
I went back to the car to see if there were any snacks. A stale granola bar lurked under the seat. I ate the granola bar and found a bush after that.
Night had fallen and still nothing. I couldn’t sleep not even a nap. Not that I expected to.
Hannah, Love, I found a spell to get you in so you can get his soul back. The thing you have to remember is to get in, retrieve, and leave or you too will be trapped. There is not much time.
The next thing I saw was the same town, except this one had people in it. They walked up and down the path. Nobody responded when I tried to get their attention.
I walked into a building, and there he was, sitting at the bar. I wasn’t sure what he was drinking, but it wasn’t anything I knew. It was black, not dark brown, but black. Every time he took a drink, his eyes turned even more white. So if I wanted him to come with I had to get the drink away from him. Yeah, good luck with that.
He wasn’t Glen but he wasnt himself either. Maybe if I knocked it over. If I did it sly enough, maybe he wouldn’t notice.
He rested his head on the bar, and I took that opportunity to knock over his drink. It sort of moved on its own and went back into the glass like a blob. Crap. So now what.
Darkness couldn’t exist with light. The problem was there were no windows. Maybe a flashlight would work though. No flashlights but there was a candle. If I tunneled the light so it would hit the blob stuff maybe it would be enough.
I hear you, Lovely. Be careful.
I brought the candle closer to the glass and it changed into weird shades of green and purple. The last thing it did was turn white. I looked at David’s eyes and they were still white. If I made him drink it, maybe that would do it. I had to try something. I felt my body start to pull away from this world.
I force fed David the drink and pulled him away from the bar. The more we moved, the more I felt David running with me.
In a poof and a flash we reappeared in our world. I could tell that because the car was there. David collapsed on the ground. He was heavy but there wasn’t any other choice. I was able to get him on to the backseat and went back to the hotel.
It might be kinda funny if I tried to get him back to the room. On the other hand, nobody strolled the halls. This was going to be awkward.
I parked the car by the door. The building provided shade and there was a push button to open the doors. Both helped. I dragged him all the way to our room, not easy but it had to be done, and pulled him into my room.
“Oh, God. If you’re listening, please help him. He’s one of the good ones. Please?”
I sat on the chair, and took a last glance before I went to the lobby to see if they had a snack machine. I didn’t want to leave him for very long.
I found chips and a soda. That was fine. It was food.
I came back to my room and he still laid in the same position. I put my food on the table and went back to him. I tried something I swore I would never do because the one time I tried it, it put me in the ER.
I laid down on the floor and put my arms around him. I told him everything. Everything including the cameo. I hoped he wouldn’t tell anybody but it was too late to take it back. “I told you almost everything about me. I can’t tell you my ultimate secret though. I can’t.”
“Why?” He groaned.
What? He’s awake? Oh my God. “David?”
“Hmm?”
Celeste, if you’re there. Thank you. Rest well.
“David, I think we’re done with this place.”
“Not by half, Sweetie.” He groaned again and curled up with me on the floor.
Welcome to Write the Story! Each month, Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms. Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support!
Time to Go
Kenneth Lawson
“You’ll find it. Look for the shoes.” Whoever sent the note scribbled that cryptic line underneath an address and a “Please Come” typed on a note delivered to me at the dock by a courier.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. The address written on the paper was in a seedy section of Miami. That area of town was a maze of old derelict buildings and run-down tenement houses where a once upscale neighborhood existed. The underbelly of the city where people barely survived, subsisting on whatever meager handout they could get.
As I approached the building, a cool, early spring wind blew down the streets. My contact said the apartment was on the right and to look for the shoes. I exited the van, looked around, and finally spotted several pairs of shoes hung over a power line. Looking directly across the street from the shoe, I noticed one window cleaner than the rest, all encrusted with grime and pollution. That would be her apartment. As I entered, the front door creaked and moaned when it opened. I knew the trek up the stairs would not be pleasant in this dilapidated building, so I steeled myself.
A dim bulb hung from the ceiling to light the hallway and the landing to the stairs. The smell was as oppressive as the dinginess and darkness of the stairs leading to the next floor.
Eventually, I made it to her floor. Every so often, I could see a hint of the former glory of the building poking through the grime and grit that had accumulated over the decades. It was as if to say, “Hey, remember me, I used to be grand and glorious and something to behold.” It knew it had a history but had succumbed to its present fate.
Arriving at her door, I knocked lightly to avoid disturbing any critters sleeping nearby, be they two or four-legged. The door opened on the first light tap, and she waved me in. The walls of the apartment showed their age. The paint peeled, and mold grew in the corners. “This place is going to kill you.”
“No worries, I neutralized it decades ago. I’m Margo.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the mold on the walls.
Neutralized or not, I still didn’t dare touch the walls. ‘You have a report for me?”
“We have visitors coming. I noticed a faint trail a while back but didn’t want to say anything until I had a visual of them. This is the data I have collected.” She handed me a thumb drive, which would appear empty to anyone else, but I knew how to access its information.
“And Captain, I’d like to get out of here.”
I nodded. “You have more than enough years in to retire.”
“No, not just retire, go with you.”
“But I’m not going anywhere. I’m retired.”
“You’re here picking up a delivery anyone else could have.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at me defiantly. Looking closer at her, I could tell she was struggling to hold her human form. The tells were there if you knew what you were looking at. I also knew she had sent the note because she wanted me to come.
“How long have you been here, Margo?”
“Sixty years since I set up the telescope and radio on top of the building.”
I had once stayed human for five hundred years in one stretch. I don’t recommend it. These days, being human for only a few days at a time was more than I could do regularly.
Margo had been on Earth far too long, and the physical stress started showing. The last thing the Space Council needed was a shapeshifter losing control in the middle of the city, not to mention increasing the chances of someone discovering our equipment.
“Margo, I’ll talk to them, but for now, you must try to stay in form and out of sight.”
She leaned against the nearest wall, let her arms fall to her side, and uttered a resigned sigh.
Sometimes, the Space Council did stupid things, like letting an agent stay in one place too long/ They should have recalled Margo twenty years ago, and someone new sent in to monitor the equipment on the building’s roof.
I could feel myself starting to need to return to my natural state already, and it had only been a few hours since I became Captain Jacob Jarvis, retired spaceship Counciler and traveler of Earth’s waters. I told her I would be in touch and left.
I hurried to the van and drove as quickly as I could in the horrid city traffic. I relaxed but couldn’t return to my normal state because I still had to get from the van to the schooner on a dock filled with humans. I felt better reaching the docks and holding my shape long enough to get to our boat.
We left the dock and anchored the schooner in the bay outside of Key Largo. The Caribbean Club wasn’t far from where we moored, and we could hear the nightly rebel rousing drift across the water. I had been here once before, in 1948, when they filmed the exterior shots for my friend, Humphry Bogart, and his movie Key Largo. While the building was still pretty much the same, the surrounding land had become an overpopulated tourist mecca.
Deidre relayed the information on the thumb drive to the Space Council who would decide what to do with it, but I still had to deal with Margo. She needed to get out of her assignment. However, what she said about coming with me was a problem.
I understood her wanting to retire and stay on Earth. But it hadn’t been as easy. Space Council’s reluctance to allow me to remain on Earth was understandable. I was a liability, but I had also been here longer than all other shapeshifters combined, and I understood humans as much as any creature can. Older now, I couldn’t hold my human form for long, so I adjusted. Adjustments wouldn’t be possible without Dedrie and my daughter Lynn, both shapeshifters. One can be in human form while the others rest. Getting the Space Council to agree to let me retire here was difficult. I found I couldn’t maintain my body or shape for long.
So, I spent more time below deck in the special cabin outfitted so we could return to our natural forms. We took turns below deck in the cabin, but lately, I spent the most time there, followed by Deidre, who was as old as I am and couldn’t hold her form as she used to. The idea of adding Margo to an already crowded schooner and her needing the special cabin was not good. But I knew she couldn’t stay on Earth independently as she became unstable.
I rested after returning to the boat and thought about Margon. Something bothered me. She was tired and scared about losing her ability to maintain shapeshifting. But something else scared her. I could feel it. I remembered the shoes hanging outside and could see them from her window. I researched hanging shoes and found they often meant drugs and gang activities. More digging told me that at least two gangs were active in the neighborhood.
That’s what was scaring her. She knew they were watching the building and saw me come and go. She was afraid they’d track me. I rushed out of the resting room and quickly changed into human form. Dedrie and Lynn were reading on the deck. When Dedrie saw me, she shook her head. She knew the look.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re going back. Margos in trouble.”
Dedrie looked at me questioningly but rose. “Then we go back.”
Lynn untied us from the mooring buoy as Dedrie put books and drinks away. Under engine power, I drove us to the dock.
On the road, I told her about my theories and what I’d found on the computer, topping it off with the official police files I’d just read about the local gang activity and that building.
It took about an hour to get to the once lovely area of Miami. Dedrie and Lynn refused to allow me to see Margo alone. Leaving Lynn in the van, we climbed the stairs and, in the hallway, outside her door, we heard voices—Margo’s and a young man’s. I caught bits and pieces of what he said, but enough to know he was threatening her with a gun.
We couldn’t go barging in from this side. He was probably pointing the gun at her. So that left the bathroom, which I’d noticed was on the outside wall to the right of the living room. I told Deidre we needed to shapeshift into the bathroom, and I would distract him.
Space Council has rules against shapeshifting on non-native planets. They don’t like it. At the moment, the only way I could get to Margo safely was to get into the bathroom, and the only way to accomplish that was to shift. So, we shifted through the wall. I hadn’t done anything like that in a long time, and I’d forgotten how much energy it used—pulling ourselves back together into the bathroom. I tried to compose myself, but Deidre stayed invisible. I could see her, but no one else could.
“Ready?” I got a nod from her in reply.
I opened the bathroom door, walked into the living room, and stood beside Margo. “So, are you ready to go to dinner?” The man looked startled, but Deidre rushed and knocked him to the ground before he could react. I retrieved the gun that went flying.
We tied up the kid, and Margo called the police, who, after questioning us, took the kid away on a home invasion charge. We had to get Margo out and decided to take her to the boat. Margo drove because neither of us was in any condition to drive from the shapeshifting, which used much of our energy reserve to stay in human form. We would need to use the cabin when we returned to the boat.
Once we were on the schooner, we exchanged formal introductions. After we’d rested, we had dinner at a local restaurant. The subject of Margo and what to do with her was back up again.
While she had managed to stay in human form the entire day, we could both tell it was too much for her. There was no way she could stay here. I reviewed her service record and found she’d served as long as I had on Earth. She was one of the first groups sent to Earth over 500 years ago and had held her shape for the entire time, through a dozen lifetimes and periods. No wonder she was tired. Even I hadn’t stayed in form that long at a time for a continuous stretch.
I started making arrangements for her to return home. But there was another problem. The apartment building where the radio and telescope were housed was still a derelict and all but deserted tomb of a building, but more importantly, the next shifter assigned to the equipment and building would have to deal with the drugs and gangs. That was a problem I couldn’t turn away from as I’ve seen more than I want to recall about what happens when gangs and drugs are allowed to run amuck.
The Space Consuel wasn’t happy with our report about rescuing Margo or our proposed course of action. The array on that building was integral to the entire network, so they had to go along.
First, an anonymous tip gave the local police the information they needed to break up the gangs. Meanwhile, we started investigating the building, which had been sold to the city for back taxes and then to a shady landlord. I realized that restoring the building would help gentrify the neighborhood, bring in business, and drive out the gang.
Space Council didn’t want any part of my plan at first. It was too much interference with the local ecosystem and population for them. However, I prevailed and convinced them to fund venture capital to revitalize the old building and the neighborhood. It turned out that a shapeshifter, assigned to monitor the planet’s financial systems, agreed to become the project developer and secured the funds. Aware of the telescope and communications array on the building, he would maintain its secrecy. Lynn joined the project as general manager.
Margo stayed with us on the schooner for several weeks until she was well enough for space travel, and arranged to return her to our planet. Deidre and I enjoyed a quiet summer off the Keys, going from one island to another and fishing in the many bays and harbors that dotted the Keys.
With the project underway and Lynn happy in her new role, I told Dedrie it was time to sail the oceans we both loved. A sail to Down Under was in order so I could visit a dear, old friend, Kathy, from another life. We headed off to follow the summer sun to Australia. I love this planet called Earth.
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In Plain Sight
D. A. Ratliff
A Detective Elijah Boone Mystery
The Big Easy, a popular tourist nickname for New Orleans, evolved from the laid-back, easygoing attitude of a city known for jazz, gumbo, voodoo, and Mardi Gras. The locals rarely used that nickname, and neither did the police. The word easy was unknown in the New Orleans Police Department as crime never slept in Orleans Parrish. But sometimes, it crept up on us when we weren’t looking.
Now, we were looking. My partner Hank Guidry and I were on our way to meet with Captain Desmond Dixon of NOPD District Seven. Dixon contacted our commander, Captain Lourdes, with suspicions regarding a possible serial killer in his district. Lourdes believed Dixon’s concerns were valid enough for Major Crimes to investigate and sent Hank and me to speak to him.
However, there was a catch. Dixon’s official request was one thing, but his private conversation with Lourdes was another. Dixon revealed that he made it a habit to review all outstanding cases in a new command, and what he found in the open homicide files proved disturbing. Lourdes didn’t fill us in completely. He said he would let Dixon do that but cautioned us to tread lightly.
As we drove along Read Boulevard, about to turn onto Claiborne and the district station, Hank chuckled and pointed to the powerlines over the intersection next to the fire station, where several pairs of athletic shoes hung from the wires. “I don’t see that often anymore. Sneakers hanging from the powerlines.”
“Sneakers? Are you from the twentieth century? Kids don’t call them that now.”
“How would you know?”
“I asked my son if he wanted new sneakers for his birthday. He let me know that was not the proper term. According to him, the cool kids say “kicks.”
“Eli, you always tell me that I’m not cool. I haven’t seen sneakers or kicks, if you prefer, tossed up like that in a long time. Gangs sometimes do it to mark territory, but not in these neighborhoods. Where I grew up in Gonzales, it was common practice during high school.”
“Back in the dark ages.”
Hank uttered, “Smart asteroid,” and then snickered.
We walked into the station lobby, surprised to find Captain Dixon waiting. He ushered us into his office, and after pleasantries, I got straight to the point. “Captain Loudes said that you suspect you have a serial killer. Why?”
He pointed to a stack of files on his desk. “In the past year, we have had six young men die from suspected fentanyl overdoses—all found partially clothed or nude in remote abandoned buildings in the areas. Each victim had fentanyl in their blood, and the ME’s office called all accidental overdoses. I found the investigative work to be a bit sloppy, and honestly, no one made any connection between the ODs.”
“What changed?”
Dixon answered. “The City Council ordered a report on drug use in the districts, which they plan to release next month. Two days ago, forensics sent the findings for drug-related crimes to each NOPD district commander for review. What caught my eye was data on the fentanyl found in those six overdoses. The report is looking for markers to help us trace illicit drugs in the district to the same dealer.”
Hank frowned. “I was under the impression your drug issues were a lot less in New Orleans East than in the city.”
“It is, but we have our share.” The captain shifted his weight, not looking at Hank or me. Something was weighing heavily on him. He shook his head before he spoke. “My gut told me something was wrong as soon as I arrived. There’s an unsettling vibe here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Detective Boone….” He paused. “I fear someone here is covering up for a serial killer or at least a dealer. The report linked these six so-called overdoses to one source of fentanyl. They searched evidence records and found that the same chemical makeup in the fentanyl that killed these six young men had been ID’ed in several fentanyl deaths four years ago.”
“I know it is possible to trace drugs back to the manufacturer or the illicit labs that make them. Did they ever tie those drugs to a dealer?”
“Yes, but he’s doing twenty to life, so he’s not involved.”
“Some of his old crew?”
“Possible. What worries me is that I asked forensics to retest the drugs confiscated from the original case. They requested the drugs from the evidence locker, but that bag of fentanyl had disappeared. We assume someone stole the evidence since we found the exact drug in these six cases.”
“You said the investigations were sloppy. How so?”
“The writeups were all different. The vics were nude or partially clothed and found in separate locations, but they may have died elsewhere and their bodies dumped. We found no clothing near the bodies.” He bit his lower lip. “The lead detective never followed up on the possibility that the vics did not die on the scene or where their clothes were. He just walked away from the investigation.”
“Who was the lead detective?”
Dixon’s eyes locked with mine. “Detective Lieutenant Martin Foster.”
I heard Hank suck in a breath, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. “Didn’t he retire a couple of months ago?”
“I’m sure you know the story, Boone. We allowed him to retire.”
“I do know the story. Drunk on the job is not a good career move. Have you spoken with Foster about the status of these files?”
“I tried to reach him two weeks ago, but his phone is inactive, and his house is vacant. We put out a trace, but no one knew where he was, and I never caught up with his son, Evan. Left several messages, but he never answered. Some of the vics were kids of some pretty powerful people here. We have a NASA facility and a Coast Guard base in New Orleans East. I’ve got some unhappy parents with considerable clout on my butt about this. I am not looking forward to telling these families someone might have murdered their sons.”
I sensed Dixon’s frustration. “That’s never easy, Captain. We’ll do what we can to figure out what happened. Who was Foster’s partner?”
“Detective Sergeant Cassie DeLong, she was with him for two months. She’s in and out a bit. CID uses her on occasion for other districts. A rookie detective, Jonas Parker, was assigned here a month ago. He’s now her partner.”
“Okay, I need the case file numbers so we can review them. Have DeLong and Parker here at nine in the morning. I want to review these files with them and start reinvestigating these cases.”
~~~ Hank sat his bottle of Peroni beer on the tabletop so hard the people three tables over in Mama Leone’s restaurant winced. He looked a bit sheepish but continued with his rant. “That son of a… should have been kicked off the force years ago.”
“Did you work with Foster long?”
“Long enough. We were patrol officers out of the sixth. He wasn’t my partner, but we worked calls together. He was a jerk. Know what I always say. Some cops wear the uniform, and some let the uniform wear them. He was the latter—he thought the uniform made him special and powerful, and he liked to throw his weight around. Just skirted the line enough to stay out of serious trouble. He made detective long before I did, but I’m not sure where he got assigned first.”
“After reading those case files, I am surprised he passed the detective exam. That was some very sloppy police work. I don’t know much about Captain Wellstone, who was at the Seventh before Dixon, but not for long.”
“Didn’t he get sick?”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard. Do you know anyone who might have remained friends with Foster?”
“Maybe. Roy Lafite seemed close to him and covered for him. I think Roy retired, but I can see if I can find him.”
Our pasta arrived, served by Uncle Matteo, Mama Leone’s brother. He sat down, and we spent the rest of the evening talking about baseball. I’ve had worse ways to spend an evening.
~~~
At nine a.m., Captain Dixon escorted his detectives into the conference room where Hank and I waited and introduced us.
“Detectives, this is Detective Sergeant Cassie DeLong and Detective Jonas Parker.”
DeLong surprised me. “Nice to meet the infamous Detectives Elijah Boone and Hank Guidry of Major Crimes.”
“I’m sure we are not that infamous.”
Dixon sounded annoyed as he told the two to sit down. “Eli, I notified these two that they will report to you and Detective Guidry to reopen these six cases. I will expect a daily briefing on your progress.”
He spun and left, closing the door harder than necessary behind him. His use of my first name told me he was sending a signal to his detectives that we were close and had his back. That would work for now.
As I started to speak, Parker snorted. “I guess the old man told us.”
I didn’t have a chance to react. I have seen Hank ticked off before, and Parker’s comment triggered him. He hated disrespect more than I did, and I despised the behavior. His tone as he chastised the younger man left no doubt. “That’s enough, Detective Parker. Captain Dixon is your commanding officer, and you will respect him. I don’t want to hear comments like that again.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, Detective.”
I glanced at Hank, nodded slightly, and began. “Captain Dixon is concerned about the investigations into these six cases. There are considerable inconsistencies in the reporting. We will begin as if we have never investigated these cases before. Let’s start with the first case. Case A-012035-23, Leonard Markovich.”
Hank and I compiled a list of questions regarding information in the case files so we could compare them to each other. Then, we would review whatever forensic data we had using the same questions, followed by comparisons. We finished at eleven thirty-five. We told DeLong and Parker to take a break and that we would call them back.
As the door shut, Hank leaned back in the chair, hands on his head. “Eli, I’ve seen a lot of sloppy police work, but this is criminal.”
“We need to clear these cases, but I’m worried this is the tip of the iceberg. How sloppy were his other investigations?”
“Don’t say that, or Lourdes will have us looking at everything Foster touched. So, what next?”
“I want to see the physical crime scenes and talk to forensics and the MEs. Come on, let’s grab those two and head out.”
As the four of us walked to my SUV unit, Parker whined. “It’s close to lunch. Can we stop somewhere? I’m hungry.”
Hank didn’t take a breath before he reacted. “You’ll eat when we finish. Get in the car.”
~~~
We were done at fifteen minutes past four when we dropped DeLong and Parker at District Seven. Parker nearly ran into the station, and Hank started laughing. “I bet he’s heading for the snack machines.”
“You are a bad dude, Hank. Making that poor guy suffer.”
“He has to toughen up, or he won’t make it. I’m betting that he doesn’t make it.”
I turned onto Read Boulevard. “Hungry?”
Hank nodded. “Starving.”
We stopped for fried chicken and ordered inside before we got on I-4 and returned to the city. I will admit that I was hungry, too. I savored a bite of mashed potatoes as Hank devoured a chicken tender before I spoke.
“I have some takeaways from today. First, my gut tells me these cases are related. Second, I think the vics died elsewhere, dumped where found, and thirdly, I don’t think they took fentanyl willingly.”
“You think someone killed these kids?”
“Call it gut or spidey sense, but I do.”
“I’ve learned to go with your spidey sense, but if that’s the case, we have little evidence to prove it. However, I’m concerned with the forensics reports not attached to three case files and an incomplete one on the fourth. I looked on the forensics lab site but can’t find those three reports.
“I know but… I feel these deaths are related to more than the drug used.”
“Since they were never linked, we don’t know if these kids knew each other.”
“We need to find out. We are going to have to talk to the families. When we get back to the office, I will call Forensics and set up meetings tomorrow morning. You start calling the vics’ families and setting up meetings at the station. Try to get them all there tomorrow. We need to find Foster, so see if you can get hold of that officer you said knew him. ”
~~~
Hank and I met at the Major Crimes to update Captain Lourdes, then headed to the Seventh, where we did the same for Dixon. Before leaving, we reviewed the questions we wanted to ask at Forensic with DeLong and Parker.
Hank tapped me on the shoulder as we walked behind them to the car. “See that bulge in Parker’s coat pocket?”
“Yeah?”
“Our boy tucked a snack cake in his pocket before we left.” Hank had a hard time stifling a laugh.
I didn’t try. I laughed. “Detective Guidry wins again.”
Parking at the New Orleans Police Crime Lab located on Lakeshore Drive, the smells from Lake Pontchartrain triggered a memory of a past case. The then-mayor of New Orleans got his hands bloody with drugs and murder, and I ended his reign on a pier not too far from the crime lab. It took a while before the city council forgave us for airing their dirty laundry. Most who supported the corrupt mayor lost in the next election, and those who won, at least for a while, walked a tightrope.
Word had come from above that we were working on a touchy situation because the crime lab’s director met us at the door and escorted us to a conference room where several techs were seated. They looked nervous, but I’d be anxious, too, if someone questioned my work.
Case by case, chronologically, we spoke with the lead technologist, and the answers were not very satisfying. The field techs who collected evidence from the first three cases followed proper guidelines. Starting with case four, I noticed a change. The tech who oversaw the data collected on cases four and five stated that she prepared and finalized a report and attached it to the case file. Those reports were not part of the file. The tech on case six stated that, per his usual work method, he had attached an open file to the main case and then updated it with data and notes as he received information.
One of the techs appeared exasperated. “I finished that report, filed it, and verified that I had attached it. I did the work and have my work files to prove it. Why the report is not there, I have no idea.”
“Do all of you keep work notes? Logs?”
They all said yes, and I looked at the director. She threw up her hand before I could ask. “No worries, I will have all of them send you a list of evidence collected and their work files. We are as concerned about this as you are.”
We left forensics with more questions than when we arrived, and I wasn’t happy. We headed to our next stop, the coroner’s office, and while on the way, I had Hank contact Captain Lourdes requesting an investigation into the IT records. I wanted answers on what happened to the files.
We met with three of the medical examiners who performed the autopsies, finding nothing out of the ordinary. We returned to District Seven to begin interviewing family members, and Hank sent Parker to pick up lunch. The young detective left muttering.
“You are riding Parker pretty hard.”
“He needs to be put in his place a bit. I called his former supervisor last night. She said he was a good beat cop, advanced quickly, and took the detective exam as soon as eligible. But she said he could be sarcastic and sometimes bucked authority.”
“And you don’t?”
Hank chuckled. “Maybe I see a bit of young me in him, but he cannot be disrespectful. So, a little humility might help.”
The first family members to arrive were Scott and Leona James. Their son, seventeen-year-old Dawson, was case number three. Hank and I met with them in an interview room. DeLong and Parker observed from the media center.
Scott James got right to the point. “We assume you have information regarding our son’s death. My wife and I have never believed that Dawson willingly took fentanyl. He was a great kid and an exceptional student. He wanted to go to college and become an engineer, like his mom and me. Someone took that away from him and took him away from us and his brother and sister. Tell us what you know.”
We took them through the new observations regarding the fentanyl found in his system and that we had reopened the case to determine the connection between the other deaths. We asked a series of questions regarding Dawson’s activities and friends, information that was sketchy in the original investigation.
By the end of the day, after talking with members from all six families, we had learned something that Foster should have known. The victims were or had been members of a high school computer club started by IT employees who worked for NASA Michoud. One of the parents said they would send us the contact information for the club—a tenuous connection at best, but the only one we had. By seven p.m., we were ready to leave when Captain Dixon called us to fill him in.
We entered his office, and he motioned for us to sit as he pulled a bottle of bourbon and three glasses from a cabinet. He scoffed as he poured a shot for each of us. “The first captain I had when I became a detective told me a good commanding officer kept bourbon in the drawer and knew when to drink.” He handed us a glass. “Salut! Now tell me what I probably don’t want to know.”
I took a sip of my drink and then gave him the news. “The victims were all past or present members of a computer club for high school kids started by IT employees at NASA Michoud. We should have a contact number shortly.” I paused, steeling myself with another sip of bourbon. “Captain, forensic reports are missing from three files and only a partial for the fourth. As you turned the investigation over to Major Crimes, I have asked Captain Lourdes to open an investigation into why the reports for cases three, four, and five were missing and why case six has only a partial report. But beyond that, as you already know, the case files are sketchy at best.”
“Eli, do you think Foster removed those files?”
“I don’t know, but we need to find him.”
“I tried again today. I can’t justify calling an official BOLO on him, but I can discretely ask the watch commander to have his units keep an eye out for him. I doubt he’s in the area if he’s hiding, but best I can do.”
“We have some feelers out, Captain. Hank knows someone who worked pretty closely with Foster. Hopefully, we’ll get a break soon.”
~~~
I planned to drop Hank off at his car at headquarters when Roy Lafite returned his call. After a brief conversation, Hank ended the call. “Time to get a beer.”
We headed to Charlie’s Pub on St. Charles Avenue. Roy Lafite waited at a corner table with a pitcher of beer and three mugs in front of him. He greeted Hank warmly, and Hank introduced me as Roy poured our mugs full.
Hank gulped his beer and grinned. “Nothing better than a draft. Thanks for seeing us.”
“You got questions about Marty Foster. Not surprised. I heard he got himself into some trouble.”
“He retired, but we have some questions about an open case and need to talk to him. We can’t find him and hoped you might know where he is.”
“Retired? No, I retired and bought this bar with my son-in-law. Marty got canned, and they called it retirement. This case you have questions about have something to do with that?”
I shrugged. “We just need to ask him some questions.”
Hank leaned forward. “Roy, we both know Foster was sloppy. There are some issues with a few cases he worked on before he retired. We’ve called and texted him, but nothing. He’s not at home and hasn’t been for several weeks. Do you know where he might go—a friend’s or relative’s house?”
“The last time I saw him, he stopped in here about two months ago and told me he’d left the job. I asked him what he would do—live off the great pension we get. He laughed and said he wasn’t sure. His kid was out of a job, and he had to help him.”
“Can you think of anywhere around here he might go for a while?”
Roy shrugged. “The only place I can think of is his grandmother’s old fishing camp. Last I heard, and it was years ago, he still went there to fish. Went there once with him. None of us had been on the force long. Old houseboat on the canal. After he made detective, I didn’t see him much.”
After getting directions to the camp in Hopedale and giving Hank and Roy time to talk about the good old days, we said goodnight. We planned to head there first thing in the morning, but an early morning phone call changed our itinerary.
~~~
Captain Dixon had been cryptic. His seven a.m. call simply told us to come to the station now. As we turned off Read Boulevard, a patrol car sat on the side of the road underneath the canopy of sneakers slung across the power line.
The desk sergeant directed us to Dixon’s office, where he waited with a couple we had interviewed late yesterday afternoon.
“Detectives, you remember Carl and Janice Bronson.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, they… I’ll just let them tell you.”
Carl Johnson took a deep breath. “As we left yesterday, my wife noticed the shoes hanging from the wires on Read.” He glanced at his wife. “She thinks a pair of those shoes belong… belonged to our son.”
“Mrs. Bronson, what makes you think those shoes belong to your son?”
“I thought about this last night. I just happened to look up when we left and saw the shoes. Something kept nagging at me. I haven’t gone back into my son’s room since— well, they didn’t find any of his clothes….” She paused, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what shoes he was wearing that day.” She stopped, and her husband continued.
“There’s a pair of black shoes with white soles and that big white swoosh on the side hanging there. We think those are Mick’s. The ones he had were not in his closet.”
We left the Bronsons in the captain’s office. We walked out with Dixon and summoned DeLong and Parker to join us. The five of us walked to the intersection.
The captain stood, arms folded across his chest, and I could tell he was fuming. “Detectives, there are six victims and six pairs of shoes hanging from that wire. I am gonna be really ticked if that evidence has been in plain sight all along.” He turned toward me. “Detective Boone, get these shoes down now and find out who they belong to.” With that, he headed back to the station.
Hank and I exchanged glances. We’d been partners long enough that I had no doubt what he was thinking. This case was a total cluster whatever. But we also both knew we were dealing with a serial killer who was laughing in our faces.
“DeLong, call forensics and tell them to get here yesterday. Parker, go to the fire station and tell the captain we need a ladder or bucket truck.” Neither moved, and I barked, “Now,” louder than I intended. They moved.
Hank and I stood by as the production unfolded. Once forensics arrived, Entergy, notified by the fire department, shut off the power for that line segment. A firefighter and a forensic tech went up in a bucket and cautiously retrieved the shoes. I had the shoes taken back to the station, where they were logged in as evidence under the captain’s authority and placed in an interview room with a police officer present.
“DeLong, Parker, call all the families and see if you can get them in so they can identify the shoes. If they can’t come in immediately, ask if they would be willing to preliminarily identify the shoes from a photo. Also, check with the fire captain and see how long they keep footage from the security cams. We might get lucky and see who stopped to throw shoes. Detective Guidry and I need to leave for a bit.”
Hopedale was a forty-five-minute drive, but I made it in thirty-five. We found a rickety houseboat docked on the canal, where Roy had said. The car parked in front was registered to Martin Foster. Sound from a radio or TV came from inside. Before stepping on the deck, Hank knocked on the hull and yelled for Martin, but there was no answer.
We climbed on board and noticed a locked padlock outside the door. Hank peered into the tiny living quarters through a window beside the door. He stiffened, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to prickle. “Eli, call for an ambulance and, I guess, the State boys.”
Hank took a photo of the padlock and one through the window before he broke the door. The stench, which I thought was from the brackish water, was not. The foul odor coming from inside made me retch.
Martin Foster lay on an old cot in his own filth. Emaciated, his skin had a gray pallor, and his hair and beard were unkempt. I made the calls while Hank took more photos of Foster and the conditions in the houseboat.
Hank turned on the faucet, but no water came out. He turned to me. “Eli…”
“I got this. Got water in the car.” I rushed out and grabbed a couple of bottles of water and a roll of paper towels. By the time I returned, Hank had roused Foster.
He took a water bottle and held it to Martin’s lips, letting him wet his mouth. “Come on, Marty, wake up. We’re here to help.”
I handed Hank a wet paper towel, and he wiped grime from Foster’s face. “Who did this to you, Marty?”
Foster’s eyes were unfocused at first, but he finally recognized Hank. “Hey, Guidry, that you? Need a drink. He promised he’d bring me a bottle.”
“Yeah, it’s me. Now tell me, who left you here?”
“Evan. He said he’d bring me a drink.”
“Who’s Evan?”
“You remember… my son.”
“Did he lock you in here?”
“I found out… he was killing those boys… I saw the shoes in his car… then.” Foster closed his eyes.
“Then what?” Hank wiped his face again, and Foster roused.
“Saw them on the wire at the station… he taunted me. I tried to cover for him, but he kept killing them. He’s going to do it again…”
Foster passed out as we could hear sirens approaching. As Hank went out to flag them down, I called Captain Dixon and filled him in. Before we ended the call, he requested a warrant issued for Evan Foster. He also told me that four families had ID’ed a pair of shoes belonging to their sons.
~~~
We returned to the station three hours later and were in the conference room when Parker and DeLong burst in, both talking simultaneously.
I raised my hands. “Slow down, what’s happening?”
DeLong took a breath. “Parker and I decided to look at any recent missing teens. We figured from the new forensic information that the killer—Evan Foster—must have taken these kids a day or so before he killed them. So….”
Parker interrupted. “There’s a high school kid. His parents reported he didn’t come home from school last night. We checked. He’s in that computer club.”
DeLong added. “We called the guy from NASA, who the parents said was the club’s founder. One of the original members was Evan Foster when he was in high school. After graduation, he stayed with them as a college mentor. They caught him hacking personal information and kicked him out about a year ago.”
“Good work, very good work. Any clues as to where Evan might be?”
Parker nodded. “The guy from NASA told us they used to meet in a computer repair shop because it had several server connections, but it closed down, and they meet now in a computer lab at the tech HS. He could be there.”
“Address?” Hank and I grabbed our radios and hurried out the door, with DeLong and Parker following us.
DeLong waved her phone. “Texting you.”
Behind her, Parker was calling dispatch to send units to that location. They might turn out to be decent detectives, after all.
~~~
The small strip shopping center consisted of empty stores and broken, weed-filled asphalt, with one exception. A car parked behind the center and out of sight of the road was registered to Evan Foster. Captain Dixon had rolled up behind us as three other units arrived. We stayed out of sight, but that also meant we didn’t have eyes on the storefront.
Parker came up with a plan. He removed his coat, tie, and weapons belt, slipping his gun under his shirt. He parked his unmarked unit in a far corner of the lot, visible from the deserted computer shop. He grabbed his iPad and strolled into the parking lot, pretending to be a real estate appraiser if asked. Parker spent about ten minutes walking along the front, taking photos and jotting down information. Once done, he drove off and parked behind our location.
“I couldn’t get a good look inside without being obvious, but I did get a peek. Pretty sure I saw not only movement inside but also a pile of clothes.”
“Good work.” That came from Hank, along with a slap on the back.
I turned to Dixon. “We may have a hostage situation, Captain. We need the big dawgs.”
He nodded. “Dispatch, this is Captain Dixon. I need SWAT en route to my location. Possible hostage, one perp, weapon status unknown, Code 3 dark. Park behind the center. Repeat. Do not go to the front of the shopping center.”
SWAT arrived, assessed the situation, devised a plan, executed a hostage rescue, and apprehended a serial killer. Always considerate, they left the arrest to us.
~~~
Hank and I walked into Mama Leone’s for dinner a week later. I told Uncle Matteo we needed a table for three, but Hank said we needed one for five.
Matteo sat us at a large round table. I was puzzled. “Hot date?”
“No. I asked a couple of friends to join us. I’m glad this has all died down, Eli. It’s been a crazy week, and I don’t want to live that over.”
“Neither do I.”
The front door chimed, and Captain Dixon entered. He spotted us and sat down. “So, this is Mama Leone’s. Heard a lot about this place and what happened—tough day.”
“Yeah, mass shootings are hard to recover from. The loud doorbell makes Mama happy. No one can sneak up on her again.”
The door dinged loudly again, and I was surprised to see the young detectives walk in. I glanced at Hank and shook my head. I mouthed “softie” to him, and he scoffed.
“Captain, detectives, thank you for inviting us.” DeLong was beaming, but Parker looked nervous.
Hank nodded. “You two did great work on the case. Instrumental in solving it. You deserve dinner at Mama’s.”
I ordered wine after Hank ensured Parker was old enough to drink and a double antipasto. As we stuffed ourselves, Captain Dixon asked us to update him on the status of the Forensics investigation.
“The investigators found no wrongdoing in the forensics lab. Evan Foster’s girlfriend, however, worked in the NOPD Evidence division. IT traced the changes to the case files to her workstation, and each access coincided with Evan’s visits to see her. She took him on a tour of the evidence lockers, and that’s when they took the fentanyl. She said he wanted revenge on the punks that kicked him out of the computer club, all arrogant rich kids in his mind. The DA is filing charges and may make her an accessory to the murders. She’s cooperating but knew what he was doing, so she’ll be doing time.”
DeLong asked Hank about Martin Foster. “Detective, I know you worked with him. It must have been horrible finding him the way you did. How is he?”
“Not out of the woods yet. He was extremely dehydrated and hadn’t eaten in days. Evan hadn’t been there for at least a week. They weren’t close, but Marty knew something was wrong before he recognized the shoes dangling on the powerline. He said Evan was angry about being kicked out of the club. When he saw the shoes on the line, he purposely did little on the investigations to keep anyone from connecting them, but he kept pushing Evan for the truth.”
“I don’t understand why Evan didn’t kill him.”
“I don’t know, Eli. Evan’s not talking, but the girlfriend said he liked to torture his victims, stripping them of their clothes to humiliate them, threatening bodily harm, depriving them of water, and then giving them a fatal dose of fentanyl. He then dumped the bodies in remote places. She thought he was enjoying inflicting such torture on his father.”
Dixon chimed in. “I spoke with the superintendent, and he said that the DA may go lenient on Foster. They are looking at felony obstruction of justice charges, and I imagine they will plead him out to a misdemeanor if he turns evidence on his son.”
Hank sighed heavily and looked toward me. “Better than he deserves, but he’s been through a lot. A retired fellow officer, Roy Lafite, told me he and some other guys that Foster worked with planned to help him.”
“As horrible as this all is, the families have closure, two victims saved, and the perps behind bars. That’s why we’re here. To get the bad guys off the streets.”
To our raised wine glasses and a chorus of hear-hear, Mama and her grandson and sous chef, Tomas, arrived carrying an enormous family-size platter of spaghetti, meatballs, and freshly baked garlic bread. As they served our food, I had only one thought—no better way to end a day in The Big Easy.
Welcome to Write the Story! Each month, Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms. Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support!
The Cold Truth Behind the Shoes on the Line
Marian Wood
Hanging shoes
Was it a tradition? Amanda didn’t know. Lying, watching the swinging shoes blowing in the breeze, she wondered how long they had been hanging there. The park had always been her go-to place. The place that she went to when life got her down. Now lying with her back against the green bank she pondered again about the shoes.
Over the years, more had appeared. No notice as to why, they were just there. She knew there must be a reason for them but so far, no explanation. Who put them there? And why?
Billy
Thinking again about her situation, Billy’s anger going around her head. She knew this was enough this time. After five years of his cruelty, she knew she needed to head home to the life she had left far behind her. To the people that had told her that Billy was bad, but she hadn’t listened. Always thinking she knew best, she had left hoping for her happy ever after. Ignoring calls from family and friends, she had put a wall between them.
This was it; she just had to grab a few things and then leave Wales and return to Kent. Maybe this time, she would enjoy driving along the M4. She knew she would feel relief once past the M25.
Picking herself up, she left the hanging shoes, taking a photo as she left. She might never see them again. Deciding to make it her phone’s wallpaper she smiled to herself.
Home
Returning to the empty house she chucked her clothes in her suitcase, grabbed stuff that was sentimental, especially her old Teddy bear and then put it all in her old Ford. She knew she could do this and though she hadn’t spoken to them in months, she hoped her family would welcome her home.
The drive home had taken longer than she had hoped but seeing the sign for Dartford her heart leapt. It was now that her phone rang, Billy was displayed on the screen. Amanda was not ready for an argument, ignoring the call she let it go to voicemail.
Turning into the familiar road she saw her childhood home up ahead. From the cars in the road, she could see there was something happening. The house was busy, her parents had never liked to have many visitors. She felt a heavy weight in the stomach, something was wrong.
A party?
Parking the car, she let herself in the back door as she always had done. Walking in she was greeted by screams. Her mother passed out as her father grabbed her to avoid her hitting the floor. Amanda stood, shaking, wondering if she should leave again. As her brother grabbed her, he held her and squeezed her hard, she could barely breathe. He then started crying too.
“Is it really you Amanda? Are you really here? Where’s Billy?”
“I left Billy, what’s going on? Why the party?
As her phone rang again, she put it on the counter.
Jerry saw the name on the screen and pushed the answer button. Hearing Billy’s voice he stayed quiet.
“Where are you, you miserable cow?” As his voice echoed around the room, his taunts got worse, Jerry hung up the phone.
“Oh love, has he hurt you?”
“Sorry I had to come home”, Amanda started crying loudly now. Jerry picked up her phone and led her to the front room,
“As you can see, everyone, the wake is over, Please all go home.”
The shocked faces all around her picked up their bags and awkwardly went. Amanda had not been prepared for this.
Lies
She now learnt that while she had been hurting and taking herself to the park and watching the hanging shoes. Billy had told her family that she had a fatal illness, and they were not welcome to see her. Apparently, she didn’t want to know them. It was Billy who had given her a new phone with a new number, she had thought nothing of it and just took it, Her phone had stopped working and she was talking to very few people on it anyway. Hearing it ring again, everyone looked and let it go to voicemail. Jerry then picked it up to listen. As he swore, they knew something else was wrong.
“Amanda, where was this photo taken? Did you take it? Or is it a stock photo?”
“I took it in the park in Swansea before coming home. They have been there for months, maybe years. I don’t know why they are there.”
“Amanda, I know we haven’t spoken for a long time, but do you do what I do now?”
Amanda looked at him, she hadn’t a clue.
Getting up he took her phone and disappeared to the kitchen.
Jerry
Her dad spoke now.
“Amanda, Billy told us a week ago that you had died. This was your wake. It’s all we could do for you. “
She was shocked. Why would Billy do this?
“Jerry is a homicide detective. A washing line with shoes on has appeared in our local park, and it appears those shoes belong to suspected murdered persons. Your photo is very similar to what is in our park. It could be that you were about to be dead for real.”
Amanda sat still, surely Billy was not a murderer. Aware that she had not set a password on her phone, she suspected that her brother was now sending her photos through to the police station.
What about Billy?
As he paced the room he couldn’t understand where Amanda had gone. He was shaking. How dare could she have left him? Why was she ignoring her phone? Her beloved Teddy had gone so she must be safe, but where was she.? He had ensured no contact from her family; they were rotten anyway. Wouldn’t stop poisoning her against him. He had done his best for her, but she kept going out. The town is dangerous, with too many gangs. Billy knew about the gangs. He had watched ‘Evil Keith’ add shoes to the clothesline in the park. A threat for the debt that he owed, Money he couldn’t even begin to find.
Amanda had commented to him that she liked watching the shoes blowing in the breeze. It had made his blood boil and he had lashed out. Why say such ridiculous things? If she knew why they were there she wouldn’t be saying that.
Jerry
Having phoned the station and forwarded the photo across, they were now pretty certain that these were gang murders. He had asked for Billy Adams to be put through the police database. Was he involved? He certainly sounded like a nasty thug on the voicemail. As Amanda’s phone rang again, he ignored it. He breathed a heavy sigh as his phone rang again.
Billy Adams had been in trouble with the police, but it had been burglary not murder. He appeared to be up to his neck in debt. He had also been caught in a fight with local gang leader Keith Walker but had been found innocent of causing affray. It had been reported that he owed him money, but that was all they knew. He knew that name, it had come up before in this case.
As Amanda’s phone rang again, Jerry now answered it, waiting for Billy to talk first.
“Mand, where are you? Why did you leave? What’s going on? “
“Billy, this is Jerry, she is safe, but we need to talk.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
“I’ll be in Swansea tomorrow, meet in the Dog and Duck at 11am, okay? This is important.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you, what’s this about?” He was suspicious.
“Will tell you tomorrow, see you then.” He hung up the phone., if anyone knew anything about this case, it sounded like Billy did. As long as Billy turned up of course, but if he didn’t he would soon find him.
Dog and Duck
As they sat quietly drinking beer, Jerry trying his best to be civil, he hated this man. He learned that the gangs were rife in Swansea, and the clothesline of shoes was put there by evil Keith Walker. He learnt that Billy owed him fifty grand and was terrified of his own shoes being added to the line. A debt that he certainly could not repay. Keith appeared to be in charge of the gangs up and down the country.
“Right, I’m going to keep you out of this but I need two favours, 1. Where will I find Keith and 2, Stay away from my sister. Once we put Keith and his gangs away you are debt free, is that right.”
“Yes, that’s right, but I love Amanda.”
“Stay away from her, I mean it! Or we will be after you, too. Keep yourself clean! ”
Three weeks later
After liaison between Swansea and Dartford, the gang members had all been caught. Keith when brought in for questioning had turned out to not be as tough as he had made out, and quickly the rest of the gangs had been found. With no sense of loyalty to his mates, if he was going down then they all were.
The shoes had all been taken down out of respect and were no longer blowing in the breeze. They had learned there were lines of shoes in other counties as well; the gangs had been busy.
Amanda was now happily back with her family. She didn’t need the stress and pain from Billy. Jerry was relieved to have is sister back home and to have solved a gruesome countywide case. The murderers were now all behind bars where they belonged.
Billy
Billy now able to live on his benefit money day to day, vowed to get a proper job. Borrowing and begging for money was not for him anymore. As he now sat on a bench, watching some children happily playing and listening to their cries of laughter as they shouted to each other, he thought about what he had lost. Why had he done such awful things to Amanda? Why did he change her phone, and why tell her family that she was dead?
Jerry had been pleasant; he could have put him behind bars as well. Looking at his can of cola, he thought about his own mental health. Would a sane man have done all that stuff? Crying, he looked at his phone. Scrolling through it, he found his GP and dialled. He needed to get himself sorted. Get his life back on track, be a decent human being, and be normal. As the receptionist answered, he could taste his tears. This was it. He needed sanity, and he was going to start here, a day at a time. Jerry had given him a second chance, and he was now going to take it.
Welcome to Write the Story! Each month, Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms. Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support!
I Know What That Means
Kelli J Gavin
After my family moved to Minneapolis three years ago, my parents refused to visit us in our new home. At first, I struggled with the fact that maybe they didn’t care enough to see my new home. I even convinced myself that they were probably a little bitter since we chose to move away. And by away, we are only talking twenty minutes with traffic from the home in which I was born and raised. Repeatedly, both my husband and I carefully broached the conversation of a visit with my parents and about stopping by our house after an event at the school. They politely declined each and every time. They no longer participated in any activities for their grandchildren, since everything now involved them driving from their posh city streets of Edina to Minneapolis.
Harry and I felt moving to Minneapolis was the best decision possible after he was transferred to a new office there and all three kids had been accepted to the Conservatory of Theater and Music. We knew each child would be receiving the best possible education and Harry seemed delighted with his five minute commute which he often walked in the warm Minnesota summer months. Our new home was a historic, three-floor brownstone with plenty of space as we considered having more children.
With my 35th birthday soon approaching, I called my Mom to invite them to a small get together.
“Hey, Mom. How are you doing?” I asked knowing what would follow.
“Babe, I am doing well. I am looking forward to planting a few more bushes this week. Your father said he would help. The weather will be perfect.” All conversations with my mother began with garden and yard talk with a little bit of weather thrown in for good measure.
“I look forward to seeing them. Say, the weekend after next, we are having a small party for my 35th on Saturday, the day before my birthday. We are planning on only about 20 people and we will be serving all your favorites. It starts at about 5:30 p.m.. I look forward to seeing you both.” I planned to not say another word and let her sit in the silence.
“Sarah, I am not comfortable driving into the city. How about the Friday after next, I’ll take you out for lunch. You can come here and we can go catch a nice bite and maybe shop a few of the boutiques down on 50th and France.” My mother suggested as she does every year.
“Mom, that is very nice of you, but I am not able to. That week leading up to my birthday is quite busy and I have a meeting that Friday. I understand you are not comfortable. Mom, I am asking you to do something bold. It is my 35th and it is special to me. I want to celebrate with you. You have never been to my home and I am excited to show you everything we have done. I am asking you and Dad to do this for me. Let this be your gift to me. Come to my home and celebrate with me.” I cringed relaying the last sentence.
“I do not want to. You’ll have more fun with your friends. You don’t need your Dad and I there. We can do something another time.”
“Mom, there are no declines available to you at this point. I am requesting your presence because I will be hurt if you do not attend.” I needed to pass on some guilt in hopes of her saying yes.
“Sarah, fine. Why are you so stubborn? I am still bringing a gift.” She spouted. I wondered briefly if she hadn’t figured out who I got that from. “We will be there. We won’t be staying past dark. I don’t like this at all. I might have to take a pill before we get in the car just so I can do it.”
Her pills were often mentioned when she wanted someone to feel bad for her, feel guilty or to make sure attention swayed back to her. I think her pills were Tums.
“Thank you, Mom. Thank you. I’ll see you at 5:30 p.m. the day before my birthday. I’ll even text both you and Dad the address again and a link for the directions. I love you, Mom.” Tears poked at the corner of my eyes.
“Babe, I love you.” And with that, she hung up.
I was elated yet wiping tears as Harry walked into the bedroom.
“So, has the Queen Mother finally decided to grace us with her presence?” Harry grinned.
“Yes. Oh my word, yes. Now we’ll see what excuses she can come up with to bail. Do you wanna place a bet? Will she or her ugly crusty little white ankle biter dog come down with some grave sickness to keep her away?” I giggled as I wiped the last of my tears.
Much to my astonishment, no excuses came. The evening of the party, my parents arrived “fashionably” early at 5 p.m. as expected. They were always prompt if not early. As my father hesitantly parked by the curb, I watched out of our huge picture window. No sooner had he placed the car in park, my mother’s car swung open wide. Barreling out of the car, she scanned in every direction, slammed the car door and bolted up the 5 stairs leading to our front porch. Entering the home without knocking, she even slammed the door behind her. My dad hadn’t even exited the car yet.
“Mom, I am so glad you are here. Welcome! But didn’t you forget something?” I asked.
“What?” She felt for her handbag, and checked to make sure she also had a gift bag in hand.
“Dad. You forgot dad.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
As dad entered the front door, we all hugged and kissed Hello. My Mom looked nervous and her eyes darted around the room.
“Sarah, your home is beautiful. The colors are exquisite. You have done a marvelous job.” Harry began to give them a tour and I got the kids settled after hugs and kisses with their grandparents.
“Mom, we forgot to pick up the rolls we ordered at the corner store. Come, walk with me and get them.” I stated.
Fear. That is all that I saw. My request to join me on a walk in my neighborhood in Minneapolis made my Mom appear to be filled with fear.
“Sarah, I can not join you. No. No, I just can’t. We saw what was on the corner. I saw those shoes over the power lines. I know what that means. That means they sell drugs there! Your home is quite beautiful, but how can you live here? The gangs sell drugs on your street!” My Mom shouted much louder than necessary.
Feeling so incredibly thankful that they had arrived early, and no one else was in ear shot, I saw the last of my kids round the corner smirking with raised eyebrows after hearing what their Grandma had just said.
“Mom, yes. You saw shoes over the lines on the corner. You assumed it was drugs because that is what you even told me when I was young. Mom, those shoes thrown over the line were from the high school seniors who live on our surrounding streets. They do this in celebration of graduating. In England, they used to throw shoes when someone was married. Shoes thrown over lines don’t always mean gangs are present or drugs are being sold!” I exclaimed not only to be heard but also in grappling with disbelief. “Our neighborhood isn’t just safe, we have become friends with our neighbors, there are tons of kids for our kids to play with. We wouldn’t have moved here if we thought there was the potential for our family to be in danger!”
There was silence followed by tears as Mom collapsed into a puddle onto the couch. Once my Mom gathered herself, she went on to explain she had always been a fearful person, but us moving to Minneapolis was unfathomable. She always thought of Minneapolis as a dangerous place to dwell and people only lived there if they had to. With her slightly tearful explanation, I was able to figure out why she had always refused invitations to our home and why she would do anything to go out of her way to never drive those few miles to the home I now treasured. The house that my family had made our forever home.
After apologies were extended and faces were dried, other guests began to arrive. My father and I served as greeters when Harry quickly stepped out to pick up the bread order at the corner store, and Mom went upstairs to spend some long overdue time with her grandchildren.
The party ended up being a delight. My parents finally meeting our new friends and neighbors warmed my heart. My Mom’s heart continued to soften throughout the evening and her fear disappeared. Minneapolis had its crime and issues, but my Mom now felt better informed about her surroundings and our choice to move here, even though Harry and I had explained it all a thousand times. Seeing my Mom and Dad smile while in conversation with our neighbors made me feel elated that this breakthrough occurred.
As they left that night, my Mom leaned in and whispered one last apology. “Babe, I saw that coffee shop about two blocks away as we drove here. What if next Saturday morning, I stop by and we can take the kids. Maybe we could get a donut or something and a cup of coffee. I would like it if you could show me some of the stores you like to shop in now.”
Immediately, I agreed and smiled at Harry. He knew exactly how important this night was for our family and my for my Mom and Dad. Thankful to be 35, I was also thankful for a corrected misunderstanding and that fear was no longer present.
We have left March’s bamboo woods behind and now a time for a bit of mischief. Thanks to all who submitted stories in March and to all of you who read their work!
Now for April 2024!
Don’t Forget: The word limit is now 5000 words. Also, we will no longer do minor editing on these stories.
WU! created this project with two goals: providing a writing exercise and promoting our author sites to increase reader traffic. Please include a link to the Writers Unite! blog when you post your story elsewhere. By doing so, you are also helping promote your fellow members and Writers Unite! We encourage all of you to share each other’s stories to help us grow. Thanks!
The April 2024Prompt!
Images are free use and require no attribution. Image by firoian – schmetz from Unsplash.
You write a story of 5000 words or less (minimum 500 words) or a poem (Minimum 50 words) based on and referring to the image provided and post it on the author site you wish to promote. Don’t forget to give your story a title. (Note: You do not have to have a website/blog/FB author page to participate. Your FB profile or WordPress link is acceptable.)
Please edit these stories. WU! will no longer conduct minor editing on your story, so please send in edited work. WU! reserves the right to reject publishing the story if poorly written.
The story must have a title and author name and must include the link to the site you wish to promote.
Send the story and link to the site via Facebook Messenger to Deborah Ratliff or email to writersunite16@gmail.com. Put “Write the Story” in the first line of the message.
Please submit your story by the 25th day of the month.
WU! will post your story on our blog and share it across our platforms— FB, Twitter, Instagram, etc. The story will also be available in the archives on the WU! blog, along with the other WTS entries.
Welcome to Write the Story! Each month, Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms. Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support!
What Comes Around
Kenneth Lawson
The late afternoon sun was always deceiving. It always seemed warmer than it was. The weird shadows it cast on the snow belied the fact that it was bitter cold. As he trogged over light snow blanketed the ground, he steadied himself on one of the many bamboo trees in the forest. Random freak weather changes were nothing new, but this was one such act of nature he could live without. Reaching the far side of the stand of trees, the sun reflected on the open field leading to his destination.
Once he crossed the field, he turned to view his footsteps, which showed the direct path he’d taken from the edge of the bamboo stand to the small hut he stood in before now. He cursed, hoping the accumulating snow clouds would cover his tracks when his pursuers reached the field. Shivering, he pushed the door of the ramshackle cabin open and stepped into the small room.
Leaning against the door, he felt his breath begin to slow down. He stood for a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light that filtered through the small windows set high on the walls. Small piles of snow littered the far end of the floor. A glance at what passed as a ceiling, mostly the rafters and thatch that made up the roof, showed where the wind and rain made small holes in the roof and let the elements drift in.
At least he was out of the weather and wind for now. He didn’t dare fire up the old wood stove in the corner of the room. So, he scrounged around the small hutch near the stove and found some old bread and dried beef that still looked edible.
As he ate, he considered that he couldn’t stay here. Soon, they would discover that he’d escaped and come looking for him. Glancing at his watch, he figured he still had time before they noticed him missing.
Earlier in the morning, Jason Cramer had slipped out of the secure wing of Wentworth, a minimum-security prison that he’d been sent to for allegedly stealing millions of dollars from the company he worked for. Shivering as he nibbled on the stale bread, it crossed his mind that he’d be warm back in prison but not safe. Tony Roman had already tried to kill him twice.
Tony Roman was a vicious bastard, despite what he would like you to think. Because of his influence with state and local officials, he’d managed to have his charges reduced and was sentenced to a minimum-security prison instead of San Quentin or Folsom, where he should have been. He’d conned most of the prison staff and administration into believing his stories and that he never actually hurt anyone. But the prisoners and some guards knew the truth.
Tony believed that Jason knew where the missing money was. Worse yet, he thought he deserved some of it. Why? The best reason Jason could think of is it was there. He’d had nothing to do with the company or the money and had only found out about it when Jason arrived in the prison. Tony made it his business to know everything about Jason and his life before Wentworth, suspecting, despite saying he was innocent, that Jason knew where the money was. Tony wanted his share, just because.
The sudden snowstorm gave Jason the perfect opportunity to slip out unnoticed. Getting past the guards and the outer perimeter fencing had been ridiculously easy—too easy, even for a minimum-security prison. The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t just hunger but fear that he’d been set up.
It would be dark soon, and the temperature would drop even more. Fear and cold sent shivers through him, and he peered out the small window. The unpredictability of the weather made his chances of escaping even more dubious. But he had to try.
Jason stepped back outside into the blanket of light snow. On a work detail outside of the prison, he had seen a farmhouse, and he was sure it was nearby. Pushing onto the nearest narrow blacktop road, he headed toward the farmhouse he’d seen. It was nearly dark when he found the farmhouse. A single light shone from the front porch. Even in the half-darkness, it was a beacon of safety. At least, he hoped it was. Fortunately, he’d escaped while wearing his recreational sweatpants and shirt, so he didn’t look different than anyone else.
As he knocked on the door, he didn’t have a plan. He figured he’d play it by ear and hope for the best. There was the sound of activity inside as someone turned off the television and came to open the door. Cracking the door, she held it firmly, ready to close it instantly. Jason could see little more than the mop of unkempt hair on her head and the collar of her bathrobe.
“Hi. Um, I need some help. You see, my car broke down, and my phone died. Could I… use your phone and come in and warm up?” He tried to look harmless and safe.
She carefully looked him up and down and stepped back from the door, opening it wide. “Your car didn’t break down. You’re from the prison. Jason Cramer. I wondered If I’d get to meet you. Come on in before you catch a death of cold.”
Jason’s face turned white as the blood drained from it. Blinking twice, he recovered and stepped into the living room. He stood by the closed door as she walked to the center of the room.
“You know me?”
“Well, not personally, until now, but I followed your trial and was there when they sentenced you to prison. I hoped they would send you to Wentworth.
As prisons go, it’s a pretty easy place to be.”
‘“You’re probably hungry.” He nodded yes.
“Well, come on, I don’t bite. Much.” With a wave of her hand, he followed her into the small kitchen.
“The bathrooms over there.” He nodded his thanks and headed for it.
Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it and tried to steady his breathing. Never in his life had he been so scared.
He tried to piece together what she’d said as he did the necessary things. She knew him, had been to his trial for embezzlement, and wasn’t the least bit scared of him, which scared him. He took longer than usual before coming back out to the living room. The house was tidy, although the furniture was old. There was a comfortable-looking couch and nice club chairs. He headed into the kitchen, where she was standing next to a small chrome table.
“Sit down and eat, and I’ll tell you how I know you. My name is Mary—Mary Long.” She handed him a plate filled with food. Jason dug into the food, hungrier than he realized.
She gave him a few minutes, then started talking. “Jason, I followed your case because it is similar to one close to me, and frankly, I don’t believe you stole the money.”
“Okay, you better start at the beginning.”
Mary went to the living room. He watched as she opened a drawer at the top of the cabinet and pulled out a folder. She returned to the table.
“My father, Deven Long.” She handed him several printouts of articles from the folder. Jason glanced at them as she continued.
“The police suspected him of embezzling several million dollars from his company, which he founded long before I was born. He didn’t need to steal money. He’d made more than enough money for us to live in style. He wasn’t the only person with access to the accounts, but the other company officers claimed they had nothing to do with it, and the Feds couldn’t pin it on anyone else in the company.” She paused a minute, composing herself. “They charged my dad, tried to claim he had gambling debts, but they couldn’t prove that. He lost everything, the company, and most of his money for legal fees, and….” This time, her eyes filled with tears. She stared into her coffee cup like she hoped to find answers in it.
Jason read the articles carefully. She was right. The evidence against her father was thin at best, but not finding any of the money, just that he had access, was enough for a jury to convict him. Rereading some of it, he saw similarities between his and Deven Long’s cases.
“So, you came to my trials?” She nodded yes. “Okay, what about me? Now?” Jason put the papers back in the folder and handed them to her.
“I help you escape.”
“Huh?” He could only manage a short response.
“You’re innocent. I know it. You shouldn’t be in jail.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But it’s not that simple. With the money still missing, I’m on the hook for it at the very least, and….”
“Then let’s find the money.” She sat upright on the chair and leaned forward, almost spilling her coffee.
“It’s not that simple. A team of forensic accountants couldn’t find any trace of it. So how are we supposed to find it? I appreciate the idea and would love to find the money, but….”
Mary leaned back in her chair as his reality settled in on her.
Jason cleared the dishes, placed them in the sink, and tossed the remains of their cold coffee down the drain. He turned toward her, leaning against the counter.
“May I see those files again?”
“Sure.” She got up and handed them to him.
Laying them on the kitchen table, he sat down and carefully reread them. After several minutes, he found what he was looking for—a name he knew—Clayton Russell. A name like that stood out. He’d been the CFO of Devon’s company, and he was also tied to his case—granted, only barely, but it was enough.
Looking up at Mary, he grinned. “I found our common thread.”
She sat across from him. “What? Who?”
“Clayton Russell was your dad’s Chief Financial Officer. The papers mention him as testifying that he had no, but he had access to parts of the accounts for his division. He was also the CFO of my company when my dad ran it. I was only fourteen when the company fired Russel for mishandling funds. My dad and the Board of Directors wanted the whole thing to disappear. I’d forgotten about him.”
“You think he took our money?”
“I think he might have, but we need to prove it and find the money. Meanwhile, they’ll be looking for me.”
“By the way, just how did you escape Wentworth?”
‘It wasn’t hard. I work in the library three days a week, so I reported this morning. Then it started to snow, and it hit me. I could probably get past the guards at the side entrance. From past bad weather, I knew they wouldn’t be in a hurry to go out in the cold and snow. Security is pretty lax there, and I’ve seen them stay inside during their shift if the weather is bad. I took a chance that they weren’t paying attention. I’d checked out both the interior and exterior cameras’ blind spots and already knew how to avoid them. I waited until two p.m. when my shift ended, acted like I was going to my cell, and hid in a supply closet next to the side door. I waited for a guard to come inside, and when he passed, I slipped behind him, grabbed the door before it closed so I didn’t set off the alarm, and ran.”
“You took quite a chance.”
“I figure the guards wouldn’t miss me until after mess when they do a head count. Which should be about now.” Jason glanced at the wall clock. It just stuck seven p.m., when prisoners were supposed to be in their housing units for roll call. “It will take another ten minutes for them to realize I’m gone and the rest of the hour for them to go through the video footage for the day and see where I got out. Then they start looking for me,” he explained.
“But won’t your tracks lead them here?”
“I don’t think so. It’s been snowing a lot harder in the last couple of hours. They will check the main roads and start a door-to-door manhunt.”
Mary brought them fresh coffee and leftover birthday cake. As she sat down, he asked the question that scared him.
“The immediate problem is, what are you going to do with me?”
He hadn’t told her about the attempts on his life. Or that he suspected they had made it easy for him to escape. Knowing some of the guards, there was a very good chance he’d never make it back to the prison alive.
She shrugged. “When they ask if I’ve seen anyone strange around here, I’ll tell them the truth. I haven’t left the house all day and invite them to look around.”
“So where am I?”
“Oh, you’ll be right here. You’re my cousin from up north.”
“There is one problem with that. They know me and what I look like.”
“How long do you figure until they start house to house?”
He glanced at the clock. “Couple of hours at the most.”
“Come with me.” She got up and headed for the stairs.
He followed her upstairs, where four doors led off the hallway. Mary showed him to one of the bedrooms. She opened the closet door. “My dad’s old clothes should fit you. I’ll be right back.”.
He was sorting through the clothes when she returned holding hair dye. “I know the box has a woman’s face on it, but my hair color is dark brown. It will make your lighter hair look like mine.” She was about to leave. “Hollar, if you need help, don’t forget to do your eyebrows.”
Twenty minutes later, he yelled for help, and Mary came to assist. One hour and a half later, he dressed in one of her father’s suits, complete with cuff links and a tie tac to hold the silk tie in place. The finishing touch was the watch he put on. He’d never been a clotheshorse, always wearing good quality off the rack. But now, wearing a bespoke suit, he understood. Even though the suit didn’t quite fit as well as it should, it felt good.
Mary whistled softly as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“You look good—sexy even.” She purred, looking him over. “My father never looked that good in that suit.”
Thanks was all he dared to say.
“Now, let’s get your story straight. You’re my cousin from up north. Let’s keep it vague, but if they push it, Lewiston, you’re in real estate, which explains the suit. You’re down for a few days for a birthday party. There was one, my sister’s kid.”
He repeated the story several times to get it straight. Then it dawned on him he didn’t have any ID. They would want to see something.
Jason mentioned it to Mary, and she disappeared back upstairs. A few minutes later, she returned with a wallet and glasses.
“You’re James Leroy, a cousin on my mother’s side. When they get here, put on the glasses.”
“Who is James Leroy?”
“She smiled. “My former fiancée. He left in a hurry. Funny, you look a bit like him.”
~~~
They had cleaned up the kitchen and the bathroom, where they’d dyed his hair. Mary got an old suitcase out, packed a few things in it, and then turned down the bed as if Jason had been sleeping there. Downstairs, she turned off all but two lamps, and they were watching television when there was a knock at the door. They looked at each other—showtime.
Jason headed to the kitchen while Mary took her time answering the knock. First, she turned down the TV and slowly made her way to the door. She cracked the door as she’d done with me, holding it close to her and not letting them see inside.
“Yes?”
“Evening, ma’am. We’re sorry to bother you at this late hour. I’m Officer Jones, and this is Officer Smith from Wentworth Prison, just over the hill. I’m afraid we’ve had a prisoner escape.”
“Oh really, is he dangerous?” She tried to sound confused and scared.
“He could be if he’s desperate. We’re talking to anyone who lives on this road. Did you see anything unusual or out of place late this afternoon?”
“No, I haven’t been out of the house all day!”
“Ma’am, our orders are to check every house personally to make sure he’s not hiding inside.”
She sighed in exasperation and opened the door wide so they could enter.
“Thank you, ma’am. We need to have a quick look around to make sure you’re safe.”
Jason sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in hand and the remains of a piece of cake on a small plate in front of him.
She called out, “James, there are some men here looking for someone.”
They spotted Jason about that time and approached him.
“You are?”
“I’m her cousin, James Leroy. I came down for our nephew’s birthday yesterday.” He spoke in a very deep voice.
“I see. You have any ID on you?”
“Why sure. Just a minute, officer.” He pulled his wallet from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and started to hand it to Jones. Smith had gone upstairs to check the rest of the house.
“Please take your ID out of the wallet.”
“Oh, sure.” He fumbled with it briefly, trying to remove the old ID from its plastic pocket.
Handing the ID to the cop, he waited while he read it and glanced at the picture and him.
After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, he returned the ID to Jason and turned toward Mary.
“Be careful. This guy is dangerous. Stay inside and safe until we catch him.”
“Oh, I will. We’re not going anywhere until you tell us it’s safe.”
Mary let the two cops out the front door and watched as they got into their car and drove away into the dark. Leaning against the door, she took a deep breath.
“Wow, that was close. Did you know the guards?”
“No, fortunately, I’ve never seen them. They must be from another prison and called in after the escape.”
“Ok, what do we do now?” Mary busied herself in the kitchen, cleaning up my plate.
“Not sure, I’ve never escaped before. For now, we sit tight. They won’t be back tonight. Those two just wanted to get this over and get out of here. Hopefully, they won’t check up on the fake ID. Meanwhile, it’s late, and I’m tired.” Jason leaned against the wall near the stairs. By now, Mary had turned off the television and locked the front door.
Glancing at her watch, she confirmed that it was indeed late. “The bed in the extra room is comfortable, or so they tell me. No one’s slept in there in ages.”
“You trust me?”
“Yes, Jason, if you are going to do something, I think you’ve done it before. Besides, I don’t have any choice, do I? I am now an accomplice to your crimes.”
“No, I don’t guess you do.” Jason followed Mary upstairs and into the bedroom.
“It’s not much, but….”
“It’s fine and much better than I’m used to. You lock your door. I’ll be fine here.”
They shook hands awkwardly. She almost leaned in to kiss him but pulled away. He fumbled with her hand and held it a little too long. They managed to say good night, and she left.
It seemed strange to sleep in a quiet room. Back in prison, there was never any real quiet or peace. Even when you were alone, you weren’t. There was always someone nearby, either a guard or another prisoner, and at the very least, cameras everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.
~~~
Jason slept better than he had in a very long time. Waking up in a strange room without the sounds of doors banging or shouting was a treat. He rose early and made coffee, and Mary joined him a short time later. As she fixed breakfast, he wrote a list of things he wanted her to buy.
He gave Mary specific instructions. She had to wear a big floppy hat and a coat that would hide her figure, sunglasses, and gloves. She was to go to several different places and buy pay-as-go phones, paying cash for them and some other items he requested. And no matter what, she was to not look into a camera anywhere. Before she left, she gave him access to her computer.
While she was gone, he installed a VPN and torrent browser. Once he felt reasonably safe from prying eyes, he started to work finding Clayton Russell.
Personnel paperwork for her father’s business listed Russell’s last position as Chief Financial Officer, along with personal information that allowed him to trace his social security number. Soon, he had confidential personnel files on Clayton from every company he had ever worked for. Jason was surprised he wasn’t retired and didn’t believe for a moment that Russell wasn’t setting himself up to steal more money from his current employer. Either way, it was time to find his money.
He realized finding where and how Clayton hid all the money he’d stolen from various places was harder than he thought it would be. Off-shore and Swiss accounts are held in the strictest confidence, and getting them to tell you anything is almost impossible.
He heard a car pull up. Mary. As he instructed, she pulled the car around to the back door. While he helped her unload the car, he told her what he’d found out.
She told him she also had a surprise for him. Along with the six phones purchased at different places scattered over town, she had stopped at a relative and picked up something. She handed him a metal box holding two guns and boxes of ammunition for each.
Jason had thought about getting guns but dismissed the idea as too risky and hard, given his circumstances. He also really wanted to avoid using them if possible. He knew from experience that if they came out, you’d better be prepared to use it.
Both guns were revolvers. One was a Twenty-two, a cheap, no-frills target gun with a fixed sight and a blued finish. The other was a slightly nicer version of the same gun, with an adjustable rear sight and a heavier, longer barrel. Both would do the job, especially at close range. Mary refused to tell him who had given her the guns, only that it was a trusted family member.
He had found Clayton Russell’s address and passport records online, showing he’d traveled to the Cayman Islands earlier in the year. While he never got the actual account numbers, he did find that he more than likely had several accounts in offshore banks whose specialty is tight security and hiding money. As for Clayton, Jason had his address, and Mary’s car had GPS. They would find him.
They loaded her car with food, clothes, and the burner phones. Jason turned off Mary’s phone and removed the SIM card, rendering it untraceable, he hoped. If the police came back for more questions and found her gone, they would start looking for her, on the assumption that he’d kidnapped her. He wanted them to be out of there before they called his bluff. Mary had filled the tank on her morning run as instructed. They did not need to stop anywhere on their way out of town.
The news of his escape had made the local radio and news. After he made it through the woods surrounding the prison, they had no idea where he’d gone, and Jason was happy to keep it that way.
~~~
Clayton Russell livedtwo hours away, and the drive was boring, which suited Jason just fine as he needed time to think. Russell had done well with other people’s money. The estate was on an exclusive side of town and required you to be a millionaire to buy a run-down shack. His place was far from a shack.
They parked on the street, walked to the front door, and pressed the doorbell. Getting in to see Clayton was easier than he thought it would be. Russell opened the front door.
Jason remembered him as a younger man and was surprised at how he had aged. Clayton was tall, but the years had bent him, and his muscular physique was now scrawny. He waved off a young man dressed in scrubs. “I don’t need you hovering. I’m fine. Go back to your game shows.” His demeanor hadn’t changed as he greeted them gruffly. “Who are you?”
“You don’t remember me, do you, Clayton?”
“No, but I remember Miss Mary here. It’s good to see you.” He tried to shake her hand, but she pulled it back and scowled at him.
“You damn well ought to remember me. You put my father in jail and destroyed his company.”
The hate in her voice seemed to shock Russell, but he recovered quickly. Turning toward Jason, he didn’t even offer his hand. “I hear you’ve been a bad boy and flown the coop.” He taunted.
“I didn’t steal millions of dollars, disappear, and leave a company to die slowly and hundreds of people out of work.”
“The law says you did.”
“We both know better. I’ve found your bank accounts and all your assets hidden in offshore islands, including a couple of Swiss accounts.”
“So? Why does that matter?”
“It’s time to pay up, pay back what you owe, and take your knocks.”
“I’d rather not. I wasn’t implicated in any of this. They investigated me and found nothing. So, I’m free and clear. Now, I want you to leave, or I will ask my assistant to escort you out.”
“Actually, no. We know that you worked for Mary’s dad’s company and then my family’s company, and both her day and I went to jail for embezzlement. Only we didn’t do it. You did. Because you worked for both companies and the Cayman bank accounts, I think the Feds will figure this out.”
Clayton pale and stumbled back into the house. We followed him into an office, where he collapsed into a chair.
“What do you want?”
“Justice for Mary’s father and me. Baring you turning yourself in, which I don’t expect you to, I will give what I know to the Feds and ask for a new trial. I’m a wanted man, and Mary here deserves restitution for all the pain and suffering you put her through.” Jason let it hang there. Clayton leaned back in his chair and started to laugh.
Anger raged in Jason, and he leaned over the desk, intending to grab Russell’s shirt, when a choking sound cut off the old man’s laughter. Russell grabbed his chest, and the color drained from his face as he gasped for air. The old man gurgled, and he slumped against the chair, dead.
Jason checked Russell’s pulse and turned toward Mary. “Shit. He’s dead, probably a heart attack.” He had to act quickly. “Mary, you weren’t here when he died. Go into the bathroom and leave plenty of prints in all the right places.”
“Okay.”
While Mary was in the bathroom, he began to search the room. Knowing that a numbered bank account in Switzerland or the Caymans needed an extremely long code to claim it, he was certain Russell likely couldn’t remember it. He must have written it down. Jason began to search the room, finding nothing on the desk, in or under the drawers, or in the files. Mary came out of the bathroom while he was standing in the middle of the room, trying to decide where to look next.
Then he spotted pictures hanging on the far wall behind a sofa. Photos of destinations like Bora Bora, London, Paris, Sydney, and he had a hunch.
He took each picture down and looked at the back of it. He was right. “Look, these have to be the codes for his Cayman accounts written on the back of each picture.” He’d found a small notebook and wrote the numbers down using the alphabetical lists of cities. He placed the notebook in his jacket pocket and ushered Mary out of the house.
They walked out of the office into the foyer and out the front door, hoping the assistant wouldn’t see them. Acting much calmer than they felt, they managed to drive away before all hell broke loose.
Jason had her turn into a strip center parking lot several miles down the road.
Mary gripped the steering with a death grip. She glanced at him at him. “What just happened?”
“He had a heart attack and died. There was nothing anyone could do. He was dead in seconds. That’s probably why he had a nurse or whatever, that dude there was. I told you to go into the bathroom because our prints were all over there. I want you to say you were in the bathroom when he died. That way, hopefully, they can’t try to pin anything on you.”
“But you didn’t do anything.”
“I know, but the cops won’t see it that way. I’m an escaped felon. You have to tell them I forced you to bring me here to see Clayton Russell, but you don’t know why. Then I forced you to drive me to the airport, and I let you go.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“Mary, I’m trying to protect you. You were the victim here. I force you to help me escape. You understand?”
“Okay. But what about you?”
“Hopefully, the numbers I got off the back of the pictures will let me into his hidden bank account. I want you to lie low for twelve hours. Find a place to park where no one will notice you, and then contact the police and tell them I kidnapped you. Tell them you don’t know what happened to me after I told you to drop me off. When they come to see you, and I’m pretty sure they will, you were scared of me and what I might do to you. You had no idea who Russell was or why I wanted to go there. When he died while you were in the bathroom, we both panicked and ran. Which is true.”
She repeated what he’d said while they headed for the airport. The nearest airport was a small regional one that only handled short flights, but that was enough for him to get lost.
As he was getting ready to get out of the car, he turned and faced her closely.
“Listen, Mary. When I get settled, I’ll send it for you. That is if you want me to.” She nodded yes. “You’ll know it’s me when the message comes.” She nodded again. Jason leaned over, kissed her gently, and slid out of the car and disappeared into a crowd.
~~~~
Jason’s instinct was right to create the cover story. Mary told the police that Jason had shown up at the house after he escaped and that he had threatened her when the officers came to the house that night. Then he had forced her to drive him to Clayton Russell’s house, but she didn’t know why. She was shocked, and so was he, when Russell had a heart attack. The police pushed her, convinced she knew more, but she stuck to what Jason told her to say. Jason disappeared, Russell died by natural causes, and the story disappeared.
Six months later, a large brown envelope postmarked from the Cayman Islands arrived in her mail. Mary knew instantly that it was from Jason. Trembling with fear and excitement, she tore open the envelope and removed the contents. Inside was a one-way, open-dated airline ticket for Marge Lewis to an island in the South Seas. Included was a passport with her real passport photo, a visa for the island, a state driver’s license, and a social security card—everything she needed for a new life.
~~~
Jason waited at the airport. The flights only came in once a day, and he would park where he could see the small plane land, hoping she was on the flight. He had successfully accessed the Cayman account and discovered more money than expected. He’d found someone through the dark web to make new documents for himself and Mary. He mailed hers and a one-way plane ticket and waited. Two weeks later, his wait was over.
~~~
Marge Lewis reclined on a lounge chair under a palm tree, the deep blue ocean waves lapping the beach. She smiled as she sipped a Margarita, Bossa Nova music drifting on the breeze while sitting with the man she loved. This was the life.
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Among Us Part one: The Bamboo Tomb
D. A. Ratliff
Heavy gray skies hovered over the Kansai International Airport as the plane dropped out of the clouds only seconds before it landed. As if my nerves were not already raw, landing on a runway the length of the island did little to help. The pilot managed to stop the plane short of dropping us into Osaka Bay. Only then did I breathe.
Like a herd of animals, passengers stood and disembarked in unison. Once inside the terminal, I only wanted to claim my luggage and find the transportation reserved for me.
Efficiency was the airport’s motto, and within ten minutes, I had my bag and headed for the arrival gate to locate the driver. I chuckled, only in Japan. The driver held up an iPad with my name flashing on it. He bowed, smiled, took my bag, and within another five minutes, we pulled into traffic and began the hour-and-a-half journey to my destination, Kyoto.
The driver opened the glass partition between us and spoke in lilting accented English. “There is an envelope for you in the seat pocket.” The window slid closed again.
The white, letter-sized envelope bore the label For Eyes Only, with no other markings. Inside was one sheet of paper with a brief message.
Victoria Grace Marcus Ph.D.:
When you arrive in Kyoto, you will receive information of the utmost secrecy. Prior to receipt of this information, please sign the statement below declaring that you will maintain the confidentiality entrusted to you and not disclose any classified information.
I read through the oath, a standard ‘don’t tell what you see or hear oath,’ with one exception. A line stating information received from the United States of America, the Government of the United Kingdom, or the Government of Japan was new. I never expected to swear allegiance to another country. Those raw nerves I had now tingled. As I signed, I wondered what I was walking into.
~~~
The coastline of Osaka Bay meandered along the roadway until we turned inland toward Kyoto. I napped a bit as the last twenty-four hours had been tiring. Japan had always fascinated me, but this was my first visit outside Tokyo and Yokohama. A Japanese colleague I met during a Tokyo conference regaled about Kyoto’s beauty and history and how I must visit someday—today’s the day.
We wound through the business section of Kyoto, stopping on a narrow street in front of a building designed from more ancient times. A simple cloth banner with Shizukana Kawa hand-painted hung beside a nondescript door.
The driver slid the window open. “Your hotel, ma’am.” He exited and opened my door, and a young man dressed in black pants and a Mandrian collared tunic came out of the hotel to take my luggage and carry-on bag.
I started to tip the driver, and he shook his head. “No tips, please. Good day.” Surprised, I entered the hotel.
Elegant was the only description I could give of the décor—natural fabrics, lovely wood floors, with exquisite artwork—simple and serene. As I approached the front desk, the clerk smiled.
“Welcome to Shizukana Kawa, Dr. Marcus.”
I was curious that she knew my name until a familiar voice from the past spoke. “Tori, it is wonderful to see you.”
Turning around, Liam Crane stood in the lounge. I could not say a word, but I was surprised to find him in Kyoto.
He grinned. “I know it’s a shock, but there is much to discuss. Let me take you to your suite, and we can talk.” He took the room keycard from the clerk and led me to the elevator.
The suite was as beautiful as the lobby. But I was not in the mood for a tour. “I need you to tell me what is going on. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was grading quizzes at my desk at Berkley. Now, I am thousands of miles away in a hotel room in Japan with a man I haven’t seen in seventeen years. Why?”
He uncorked a bottle of wine. “Do you have the document left for you?”
“Yes.” I handed it to him.
Liam glanced at it, took a photo, and placed a call saying only, “Dr. Marcus signed.” He folded the document and slipped it and his phone into his inside suit jacket pocket. He poured wine and motioned for me to sit. I didn’t.
I was out of patience. “Liam, what are you doing here? What am I doing here?”
“All in good time.”
“No, you will tell me now. Why are you here? Then you can explain why I am.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Am I….” I stopped. I was hungry. “Yes.”
“Good, let me order you an omelet.” He picked up the room phone and ordered dinner in Japanese, then handed me a glass of wine.
“Now, while we wait for your food, let me fill you in.” He paused, and I interrupted.
“I need to know what you are doing here. Who are you working for?”
Liam smiled and motioned me to sit again.
“Always inquisitive, the mark of an excellent scientist and intellect. I work for the CIA.”
My eyebrow must have reacted and raised involuntarily. He chuckled. “Yes, college playboy Liam Crane is a spook. CIA recruited me directly out of law school. Are you surprised?”
“Surprised is a good description. But why are you here?”
“I am here because there is an unknown but potential threat to the world. Which is where you come in.”
“Where do I come in? Is there an asteroid coming that no one has told us about?” I was being facetious. I would have known about impending asteroids—I’m on that committee.
“You are here for a few reasons. You are an astrophysicist and an astrobiologist, although not officially yet. You completed and presented your dissertation, but you still have orals to go before receiving your Ph.D. in that discipline.”
“You know a lot about me. Oh wait… you are a spook.”
“Tori, those credentials alone could bring you here, but you also hold top-secret clearance for the US, and your location in San Francisco allowed us to get you here faster.”
“Wow, all that, and I make a great Bellini, too.”
Liam leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I also remember you well enough that you tend to joke when rattled. But this matter is of the utmost secrecy as we do not know what we are dealing with.”
“Tell me.”
“Approximately two weeks ago, visitors to Arashiyama Park began to report feeling dizzy and nauseous in the park. Park officials could find nothing out of the ordinary, but many complaints continued to the Japanese Tourist Association. When they could get no answers, they turned to the Japanese government. At the same time, the US and British military began monitoring an anomaly and traced the signal to Arashiyama Park. Jointly, they decided to close the park and investigate the anomaly.”
“What type of anomaly?”
“It appears to be a particle beam, electromagnetic.”
“I assume you searched the area. Has a source of this beam been located?”
“Yes, it’s within the Bamboo Forest.”
“I’ve seen photos of the Bamboo Forest. It’s beautiful.” I took a sip of wine. “What steps are being taken to pinpoint the location of the signal?”
“The Japanese government brought in a team of scientists, including an archaeologist. The official statement to the public reported a possible gas leak as a cover. They cordoned off the area, and the park remains closed.”
“What have they found, if anything?” A shiver shimmied down my back at the look on his face.
“They found an artifact. The intention is to move it, but I insisted it remains until you see where it lies now.”
“An artifact? Ancient Japanese artifact?”
“We don’t think so.”
A knock on the door saved the moment. He answered and brought my dinner tray to me. “You will love the food here. A friend from my days stationed in the UK is an MI-6 agent, and his family owns several hotel properties, including this one. We are both listed as working with the hotel group. With locations around the world, it is a perfect cover.”
“The hotel is beautiful.” I took a bite of the omelet. “This is delicious.”
“Told you.”
“Go on, please.” I continued eating while he explained further.
“The signal came from underground. Fortunately, we could dig in a clearing, which kept the demolition of any plants to a minimum. Excavation began five days ago, with teams working in shifts as the workers suffered nausea and disorientation after short exposure. Two days ago, we discovered the artifact.”
“What does it look like? Old World War II munitions? What?”
“We have not been able to identify it, but we are pretty certain it is not from the war.”
Liam walked to a cabinet, opened a door, and retrieved a leather case. “This contains what we know so far and should bring you up to speed.”
Inside the case were documents marked Top Secret by all three countries, and I felt a bit of trepidation at opening it, but I did. Flipping past the title page, I found several photos.
“What is this?” I pointed to a photo of the dig site. At the bottom of the excavated hole lay an oval cylinder-shaped metal object with tapered ends, smooth except for marks carved into the metal near one end.
“We have no idea, but as soon as we exposed the object to the air, the signal stopped.” Liam rose. “You must be tired. Meet me in the lobby at six-forty-five a.m. The sun will be up then. Bring the binder and dress warmly. There was snow today and more coming overnight.”
“I brought winter clothes on the advice of the two State Department guys who escorted me home from my office and then to the airport. Why State and not the Defense Department?”
“Our governments decided not to appear to be concerned about military action. The respective departments of State are a cover.”
“Are you expecting military involvement?”
“That’s what you are here to tell us. Good night, Tori.”
~~~
The scent of lemon and ginger wafted from the Hinoki wood tub as the hot water released the wood’s natural oils. I closed my eyes, relaxing for the first time since my adventure began.
The information Liam left for me was puzzling but exciting. The data recorded by the scientists monitoring the beam was inconclusive, but their supposition that it appeared to be electromagnetic particle emission appeared valid. My tired brain wouldn’t allow me to recall all I had read about the subject. I’ll enjoy soaking in this beautiful tub tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll play astrophysicist.
~~~
Liam greeted me early the following morning with coffee and a breakfast sandwich. After getting in the car, chauffeured by the driver who picked me up at the airport, I held up my sandwich. “An English muffin with sausage, egg, and cheese? All this wonderful Japanese food here, and you stopped at an American fast-food restaurant?”
“I like this, don’t you?”
“I love it. And the coffee.” We ate as we drove through the city streets, reluctant to discuss the artifact. Liam kept me entertained with the history of Kyoto.
The trip took thirty minutes, and when we arrived, the location of the beautiful gardens shocked me. The entrance was quite close to a train station, and the city seemed to encroach on the forest and the mountains in the distance.
Walking toward the gate, the heavy snow enveloped me in silence. The quiet within a snowstorm is difficult to describe unless experienced. The city noise, so close, deadened to a soft buzz by the blanket of snow. With Liam leading, we turned onto the bamboo forest road, and I was speechless.
Magnificent, soaring bamboo stalks lined the cobblestone path leading deep into the forest. The emerald-green trunks accumulated snow on the nodes, and the tender top leaves, heavy with icy snow, formed a canopy of diamonds above the path.
I didn’t realize I had stopped until Liam touched my arm. “Breathtaking, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“Come, we get off the path near the end.”
We climbed over a ladder between the thick parted grass and the dried bamboo fencing surrounding the trail. The snow-covered ground crunched under my boots, and I expected fairies, wizards, and handsome princes to appear. Instead, ahead of me sat a tent with transparent plastic sides nestled between the rows of bamboo. Liam headed toward a man in a chartreuse ski jacket.
“Tori, I’d like you to meet Dai Akagi, who is with the Japanese Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office, better known as CIRO. Dai, may I introduce Dr. Victoria Marcus, the astrophysicist from the US that we requested join us.”
Akagi bowed and, in perfect English, greeted me. “It is an honor to meet you, Doctor. Please let me show you what we have found.” He led us to a hole approximately ten feet long and five feet wide. A large pile of dirt, several shovels, and a small chainsaw with bamboo splinters caught in the cutting teeth lay on the ground, indicating they excavated the artifact by hand. Numerous devices for monitoring air and electromagnetic waves lined the hole’s perimeter.
Red tape defined the boundaries, and as I stepped near the edge, Liam held my arm for me to lean over. The hole was at least eight feet deep at its lowest end, with the metal cylinder resting on an incline. Dai leaned over as well.
“Dr. Saitō believes the angle of the buried object reveals it struck Earth from space.”
I stood upright so fast that Liam almost let go of me. “Struck Earth from Space? You think this alien?”
Liam scoffed. “Why we needed an astrophysicist. Let’s go see Dr. Saitō.”
“I know of him. He’s a theoretical astrophysicist and, if I remember correctly, supported Dr. Avi Loeb’s hypothesis regarding the so-called alien object called Oumuamua, discovered in 2017.”
“I remember, supposed to be the first alien spacecraft we detected? I thought astronomers debunked that theory.”
“Not so much debunked as alternate and plausible theories for its erratic behavior presented.”
“What do you think?”
“The sci-fi fan in me would love it if it were true, but the scientist in me is more skeptical.”
“If Saitō is correct, then….” Liam grinned and threw up his hands.
“Let’s see what he has to say.”
We crossed over the yellow ladder again and continued down the walking path to another path behind the forest toward a large portable lab trailer at the intersection.
Dr. Saitō sat at a small desk surrounded by equipment and monitors. When we entered, he stood and bowed, introduced the colleague with him, and then looked me straight in the eyes. “Doctor Marcus, the artifact is alien.”
My heart skipped a few beats. Those words are both revered and feared by someone who stares at the universe with the burning question of whether there is life elsewhere. Steven Hawking warned us that contact with aliens who were more advanced than us could prove disastrous. That thought raced through my brain as I struggled to find my voice but managed to speak. “Please show me the data you have.”
Liam and Dai stepped out, and I reviewed Dr. Saitō’s findings over the next two hours. It frightened me that I could find no reason to disagree with him. He sat quietly as I poured through the data, answering questions as I came to them, and when finished, I was in awe at the work he had done in only a few days.
“Dr. Saitō, I can only echo your initial findings. I know of no other conclusion we could come to.”
He smiled softly. “Please call me Nobu. I see no other path than the one invited to travel.”
“You think recent seismic activity awakened this artifact?”
He nodded toward his colleague, “Dr. Kimura looked at recent tectonic incidents in the Kyoto Prefecture. He found a 2.6 earthquake along the Hanaore fault corresponding to the signal detected.”
“But haven’t there been many earthquakes in the area that could have triggered the signal at any time?”
“Yes, but we suspect the exact harmonic created by that particular plate triggered the artifact to emit that sound.”
“And it stopped?” He nodded, and I speculated. “Either a timed loop or atmospheric?”
“When we uncovered the cylinder, sunlight could have deactivated the beacon. Regardless, it helped us recover it as we could not remain in the area for long.”
“You have no idea how old it is?”
“The metal’s composition is unknown, so metallurgy testing does no good, and it’s not organic, so there is no carbon dating. We have done a soil analysis, but nothing definitive. We will seek information from an astrogeologist when our governments allow it.”
“Do you have any thoughts?”
“The leading citizens of Japan have visited this area since the 700s, building temples and residences along the river to enjoy the view of the mountains. The bamboo grove is natural and considered protection for the temples. Taiki is from the area and researched writings from temple monks. He found a reference to a streaking ball of fire in the night in 1684 that landed in the forest, but no other details. It is certainly not definitive, but perhaps that is when the artifact arrived.”
As I started to comment, Liam and Dai returned. Liam sighed. “We received orders to immediately prepare the artifact for transportation to a remote research facility. I suggest that you gather any additional data required now. A helicopter will transport the artifact to the airport and onto a US Air Force plane.”
~~~
Fourteen hours after excavating the artifact, we took a second helicopter to the Kansai International Airport, where we boarded a US Air Force C-5 Galaxy and departed. Liam introduced me to his counterparts from MI-6 and the French Directorate-General for External Security, DGES. Once in the air, a Space Force officer, General Elliot Stern, informed us that we were heading to McMurdo Station in Antarctica but did not elaborate.
The flight to Christchurch, New Zealand, was long, refueling mid-air and stopping on the ground. At some point, I lost track of time, and my eyes glazed over from reading the research data so many times. We overnighted in Christchurch and were exhausted. I had dinner, a hot shower, and slept for ten hours.
A call from Liam roused me from my sleep. He informed me it was time to leave. I pulled out the thermal clothing Space Force issued us, and I was a bit surprised at the NASA worm logo on the clothes. The good thing is that they looked warm, and I was thankful. After breakfast at the hotel, we took a bus to the airport, where we boarded a US Air Force C-17 Globemaster for the five-hour flight to McMurdo. Special ops airmen—spacemen, not sure what the term is—escorted us to a block of passenger seats at the front of the cargo area. A large steel container holding the artifact sat bolted to the deck among several cargo containers.
An hour before arrival, General Stern asked for our attention as an aide handed folders to us. The five of us sucked in an audible breath simultaneously at the title of the document. The heading was the Global Secrecy Act. Our reactions were noticeable.
The general spoke. “Yes, I know you are surprised to see the name on this document. You hold the highest security clearances for your respective governments. However, you do not. Before we proceed, please read the document, and sign it. Colonel Weston and Colonel Brazier will witness your signatures.”
At that moment, we would have all sold our souls to know what security this document concerned. There was a scribble of pens, and the colonels collected the documents and witnessed them quickly. The general looked at each of us before he spoke.
“Ten years ago, the discovery of an anomaly in Antarctica resulted in the formation of The Global Security Act. The seven countries that claim territory on Antarctica, along with the United States, Germany, and Japan, agreed to maintain the secrecy of this finding.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or excited. “General, what did you find, and is the artifact in Japan connected?”
“Dr. Marcus, what we found in Antarctica is an alien base, for lack of an accurate term—an enormous structure under the ice. When Dr. Saitō saw the markings on the Japanese artifact, as a member of the Antarctic Project, he immediately made the connection.” He glanced at his watch. “We will be landing at 1400 local time, weather permitting. We are using the cover that you are NASA scientists here to evaluate the ongoing research project on the effects of hazardous hostile environments on astronauts. You will have limited time at McMurdo. You can have a meal and relax until we have loaded the transports. Then, you begin the trek to the outpost and the alien compound. If there are no questions, I ask that you not discuss any information you have received until you arrive at the outpost. Thank you.”
Liam leaned back in the seat. “Wasn’t expect that.”
I agreed.
~~~
We traveled two hours inland from Ross Island, where McMurdo was located, to the Antarctic Project outpost. The futuristic building was totally unlike what I expected. Its smooth, graceful, undulating surface blended into the terrain, and only when the transport stopped could I determine the entrance. We exited the bus and entered the equally modern interior.
A person I knew very well greeted us. My undergraduate astrobiology professor, Dr. Marian Cortez, beamed when she saw me.
“Tori, it is wonderful that you are here!” After hugging me, she introduced the team. “I know what you learned today is overwhelming. I’ve been here for seven years, and it still overwhelms me. Let Jack show you to your quarters, where you can drop your things, and then I will take you inside.”
We traveled through a corridor surrounding a central core connected to several pods. When we reached the housing pods, Jack gave us our assigned quarters. Feeling considerably lighter after I got out of the heavy pants, coat, and boots, I rejoined the group.
Dr. Cortez led us to the elevator in the central core. “Before we descend, let me tell you that we discovered this structure ten years ago in much the same manner as the artifact in Kyoto. A US satellite detected an electronic quantum pulse coming from Antarctica. Upon exploration, we found something we had never expected. A…” she paused. “Let me just show you.”
No one took a breath as the elevator started to move. When the doors opened, gasps were audible. We stepped into a science fiction set. I was surprised by how spacious and bright it was. What looked like white polished stone covered the curved corridor walls with lighting panels interspersed along the length. The gray decking material seemed to contour to my feet as I walked.
Dai was the first to find his voice. “How old is this place? It looks brand new.”
“We believe the compound has been here for seven hundred to a thousand years. But it could be even longer, and we have no idea when the inhabitants abandoned it. The first explorers inside said that as soon as they uncovered the hatch and exposed the interior to sunlight, power came on, and life support—heat and breathable air—activated. We at least know whoever was here before breathed virtually the same mix of oxygen and nitrogen that we do, so we must assume they were human or at least humanoid. And the furnishing and controls here bear that assumption out as well. We think we understand some things, but in truth, we know little.” She motioned down the hall. “Let me take you on a tour so you can see for yourself.”
For the next hour and a half, Dr. Cortez led us through corridor after corridor for five levels. We saw what the team deduced were labs, engineering, a control center, a medical unit, a galley and dining area, and recreational and crew quarters. We were speechless. We returned to the first level, and she took us to a lab we had yet to enter. The artifact from Kyoto rested on a dais in the center of the room, with several scientists hovering over it.
Cortez spoke. “Dr. Marcus, Dr. Saitō recommended you for the Project. When we discovered Agent Crane knew you, we let him be your first contact with the team. As all of you know, if word got out of this discovery, the only thing that would keep us from an epic media invasion is that we are in Antarctica. But that would not stop the chaos that would explode around the world. We need secrecy, at least for now, if this artifact is what we think it is.”
“And that is?” Liam’s voice sounded as shell-shocked as the rest of us.
“We believe it is an escape pod.”
I uttered, stunned. “An escape…. Marian, do you think there is an alien inside?”
“We believe that is a possibility.” Dr. Cortez paused. “There is something else. Things happened here when the electromagnetic beam activated on the artifact while still in Japan. Systems that had not been active came online. We don’t know what they do, but they’re active. There’s a connection between the pod and the compound. We need to find out what it is.”
I wander to a cabinet and notice symbols etched into the metal door. “This looks similar to the symbols on the artifact pod.”
“Yes, their language. We have linguists trying to decipher it.”
I felt lightheaded and grabbed the countertop with my hand to steady myself. This was becoming far too real. Dr. Cortez noticed.
“Come, you have all had a long journey. You need to eat and then get some rest. We can start in the morning.”
~~~
Three months passed, and we entered the over-wintering mode. The last supply plane departed after bringing pallets of food, medicine, cleaning supplies, additional project equipment, five new scientists, and additional Space Force Special Ops. Liam returned as well, which surprised and pleased me.
He walked into my lab with a present. “Tori, it’s good to see you.” He hugged me and handed me a gift bag. “I thought you might like a reminder of where this all began.” Inside was a beautiful bamboo container filled with bamboo shoots and white rock. “I asked the park botanist if he would make cuttings from the bamboo for you.
“It’s beautiful. I love it.” I placed it on my desk. “I didn’t expect you back?”
“I… okay, I decided I didn’t want you to be here all winter alone. Lots of unknowns here….
“My knight in shining armor?”
“More like a snowsuit. Tell me, what’s happening?”
“Quite a bit. We continue to explore the compound. It’s so much larger than anyone expected. We found additional access hatches to other areas and another lower level. There appears to be an additional power plant on the new level. Life support and equipment powered up as soon as we accessed the area, as the previous ones had. We can’t go in until the Space Force SOs and an engineering team conduct safety checks, and we still haven’t determined the power source. Whatever it is, the engineers say it is like nothing we have ever seen. Other than that, it’s quiet.”
“Quiet is good. I’m starving. If I remember correctly, it’s dinner time. Would you like to join me?
“I would. Starved here, too.”
As I turned out the lab lights, I thought it was quiet, but quiet never lasted.
~~~
One month later, at 0400 on a Friday morning, everything changed.
I left my lab at 0100 hrs., exhausted and intending to sleep for as long as possible. We had been putting in a lot of stressful hours as the compound was increasingly coming alive. Equipment that lay dormant after the initial power-up was beginning to activate. We had yet to decipher the language, so we had no idea what any item did and what could be harmful.
Because the pod, nicknamed the Bamboo Tomb, had shown signs of energizing, one Special Ops officer and at least one scientist were always present in the lab. Just before 0400, an electronic whine began, and the panel on the pod’s side activated. The SO present activated the General Alarm.
The grating buzzing sound woke me from a deep sleep, and it took me a moment to get oriented. Between the alarm’s blare, I heard Dr. Ron Hyatt’s voice requesting senior science personnel report to the pod lab. I pulled on the pants and top I had worn the night before and raced out of my quarters.
The elevator was in use, so I opened the hatch door to the access ladder and climbed down one level. Several people exited the elevator as I entered the corridor. I caught up with Liam as we reached the lab doorway, with Marian just behind us.
Two SOs stood with weapons drawn but pointed to the floor, and Dr. Hyatt stood at the pod. He turned as we entered, smiling at Dr. Ortiz. “Marian, I believe we are about to have company.”
Marian nodded. “Okay, I want everyone to leave except for Ron, Tori, Dr. Saitō, Liam, Dai, and security. You can monitor from the main lab on the surface.”
We waited. The silence was deafening, and we all felt anxiety building. I’m not a nail-biter, but I was fast becoming one. When the latch clicked on the pod, even the SOs jumped. Everyone was breathing heavily as the top of the pod began to open. None of us could speak at the first glimpse of what was inside.
The occupant appeared to be a human male, identical in all appearances to us, with one notable exception. His skin held the slightest tinge of blue. As an astrobiologist, this situation was in my wheelhouse, and I stepped closer to the pod. The SOs reacted, but I waved them off and looked closer at the body. I noted his chest’s slight rise and fall and touched his cheek. His skin was cold. “Marian, we need medical here.”
She called for the medical team. Doctor Jacobs, a Space Force Colonel, arrived with two assistants. He stood over the body for the briefest moment before he spoke. “With what we know about this environment, I am going to treat this patient as if he is human.” He turned to his team. “Let’s get him to sickbay.”
I stopped him. “Take him to the complex medical unit.”
Once, in what we believed was the alien sick bay, the med techs placed the humanoid on what we thought was a diagnostic bed. As soon as his body touched the surface, the panel above the bed lit up, and an energy field appeared around him. Jacobs shrugged. “Now we wait.”
Time ticked past, and I slumped on the lab bench, napping, awakening when Liam brought me coffee. He sat beside me. “Anything new?”
“No, but the indicators on that panel are rising, and his body temp is higher.”
“You should get something to eat.”
“I’m not….” I stopped when the forcefield dissipated. Jacobs rushed to the bed, then took a step back. “He’s awake.”
The alien sat up with Jacobs’s help. He gazed around the room and then spoke in an unfamiliar language. I stepped forward.
“Greetings. I am Dr. Victoria Marcus. It’s good to see that you are alive. Can you understand us?”
He raised his hand and waved his hand toward himself. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I kept talking. “You are on Earth. We believe that you crashed in the pod we found buried in a place called Japan. The frequency emitted by the pod caused equipment to activate within this compound, so we brought you here.”
He motioned again. I kept talking. “Once here, your pod activated. We assumed….”
“That my escape pod was activated by proximity to this station.” He smiled while I stood dumbfounded but finally found my voice.
“You can understand me.”
“Yes, I needed you to speak while the translator chip in my brain learned your language.”
“That fast?”
“The translator only needs a few root words to extrapolate language. You found me and brought me here?”
“Yes.”
“I must see the pod.” He stood a bit wobbly, and the doctor asked him to sit. “No, I am fine. Take me to the pod.”
The doctor agreed, and we escorted the alien to the pod. He pulled a small device from inside and tapped on its surface. A holographic image of symbols appeared. “I must thank the bioengineers who created the escape pod. This tells me I have been in hibernation for three hundred and forty-six years and six months of your time measurement.”
Liam spoke. “We suspected that you crashed on Earth at least that far back. Can you tell us about yourself?”
“I am T’Lan Orbat, I am… I was captain of the Lorian Alliance ship, the Praynoc.”
“Lorian?”
“Yes, Loria, my home planet and the center of the Alliance.”
Liam continued. “Do you know what happened to your people in this compound?
“No, I do not.” He wobbled, and his already pale blue skin turned paler.
Dr. Jacobs stepped in. “Enough. He needs rest. You can question him later.”
~~~
We sat in the conference room on the outpost level, remnants of lunch scattered about, when Doctor Jacobs walked in.
“Our guest is stronger now. We gave him fluids and food, and he requested we take him to the compound crew quarters, where he showered—it’s a sonic shower thing—and changed clothing. We brought a portable X-ray and other equipment to the compound level. We took blood, and despite his skin color and how dark his blood is, I can tell you that he is remarkably human. We are doing a DNA test to see how close our species are. For now, he has asked to see the outside world.”
Marion nodded. “Good work, Doctor, and please, bring him here.”
T’Lan, now dressed in dark gray pants and a tunic, entered as we cleared the lunch dishes. He smiled. “I see you have eaten as well. The doctor brought me what you call macaroni and cheese. It was delicious.”
He walked to the wide window, which revealed only thick falling snow swirling in the stiff wind. “Desolate. E’Dor Mori, the expedition’s leader, chose this location as no one from your planet had visited here or even realized its existence. They felt they could monitor your people from here and conduct various sojourns via…” he paused, “I think the word is transports.” He turned and sat at the conference table.
“T’Lan, why did your people come here?”
He glanced around the table. “I know your doctor has done some experimentation, but I can answer your questions about our similarities. We are human, as are you. Our differences are very minute, much of which was determined by subtle environmental differences.”
My heart pounded, and my mind raced as I absorbed this information. My colleagues and I had long debated the possibility of other human species evolving in the galaxy. The answer sat in front of me. “One difference is the color of your skin. Blue is not a common skin color on Earth.”
Doctor Hyatt intervened. “Not exactly true. While not common, there have been blue-skinned people on Earth.”
T’Lan looked shocked. “There are people like me on Earth that you know?”
I shook from excitement. “I read a book about the blue people of Appalachia. I had forgotten. A family had a genetic disease for generations.”
“Yes.” Dr. Hyatt scrolled through his tablet. “Methemoglobinemia is a blood disorder in which there is an unusually high amount of methemoglobin, a form of hemoglobin. With the methemoglobin present, hemoglobin can’t release oxygen effectively, so with reduced oxygen, the skin is blue and the blood deep brown.” He turned the tablet so we could view the image of a family of blue-skinned people.
After a few seconds, as we absorbed what we had learned, Marian asked, “How was it treated?”
“Looks like they used methylene blue, vitamin C, and riboflavin. Scientists considered this a very isolated genetic variant.”
T’Lan stood. “I need to access the control room. You asked what happened to the Lorians who were on this base. I suspect I know.”
~~~
We followed T’Lan to the alien control center, where he sat at a console and tapped a screen, causing a holographic display in the Lorian language. He turned to Marian. “I can add your language to the system and translate the data for you to read.”
“If you can, please do so.”
We waited as he placed a small metal disk on his temple and touched the display, moving images through the air. He tapped an icon, and the language morphed from Lorian to English after a few seconds.
“Now, let me find the director’s last log.” T’Lan swiftly moved through the screens until a woman appeared. He identified her as E’Dor Mori, the director of the compound.
E’Dor looked strained. Her skin was a shade darker blue than T’Lan’s. Dark circles lay under her eyes, her exhaustion evident. She sat at the console we stood in before, and when she spoke, it was as if she was in the room.
“My fellow Lorians. This will be the last report from the Navin Outpost, as long-range sensors show that a battlecruiser from the Thonan Empire will arrive soon. We are sure they have no interest in the emerging population on this planet as they are far too primitive, but they do want us and our technology. We attempted to flee, but the Thonans attacked the Praynoc as it reached Navin, and the ensuing battle destroyed both ships. We are going to do the only thing left to do. Doctor M’Bae has created a genetic treatment to use hemoglobin to carry oxygen in our systems. Our skin will become the color of the natives of this planet, and we will be able to blend in with the population and live our lives out. We vow to help with advances where we can, but the planet must appear to evolve naturally.
The engineers created an energy signal to fool the Thonans into believing that the outpost self-destructed, which should keep the Thonans from attacking. We secured all the research collected, which we encrypted within the data banks, where we hope our people will one day retrieve it.
Each of the expedition members has recorded a message for their families. While we have no idea when the messages may reach their families, their descendants will have closure.
To all the citizens of Loria, we are proud to have served our citizens in the quest for knowledge regarding the universe and its new worlds. Do not mourn us. We recognize the future before us and are excited about our new venture. We have vowed to keep a record of our fate and hope that someday, Loria will read about our lives on the planet we call Navin. May grace be with us all.”
No one spoke as her image faded from the screen. I am sure the others felt what I felt, which was a profound sadness for the Lorians serving on the outpost. While listening to the recording, T’Lan remained still. When it ended, I noticed his shoulders shuddered, and then he sat upright and turned to face us.
“It saddens me that my fellow Lorians had to abandon their post, but I am excited to discover their fate on this planet. I suppose the first order of business would be to contact Loria and let them know what happened to the expedition.”
As he turned back toward the console, Liam spoke. “I’m sorry, T’Lan, but we cannot allow that. I am sure you understand why.”
T’Lan turned to face Liam. He took a deep breath. “It has been many years since I have had any contact, and you are correct in thinking that we do not know the fate of my people and the danger they may pose to yours.”
Liam nodded. “I am sorry, but yes, for now, we cannot allow you to have any contact with your world.”
“Understood. I will obey your directive.” He stood. “With the translation on, you can monitor any access I have to communications. It would be prudent if I began by giving you a tour of the facility, as you have yet to access all levels and teach you about our technology and people.
Marian nodded. “Yes. We can plan on how to accomplish all of that, but only after you have rested.”
I knew Marian wanted T’Lan out of the way, for now, to allow our techs to review the data in the Lorian computer system. I wanted my hands on their star charts and biological data. We had a lot to learn.
~~~
In the four months since T’Lan awoke, we have learned much about Lorian technology, and what we learned changed physics as we knew it. The power and propulsion systems alone stagger the imagination, and the astro engineers in the exhibition are furiously writing papers—most not published, at least for the foreseeable future. I could say the same for myself. My research, including beginning to research DNA records on Earth for alien signatures, compiled enough data to study for a lifetime.
For the first few weeks, Marian isolated T’Lan from the outpost, debriefing him from the upper level on data we brought to him. Once she felt secure that we had some rudimentary knowledge of the data, she allowed him to join our teams in the alien complex.
T’Lan had proven to be cooperative and congenial, even joking with us as his mastery of our language grew. I looked forward to my assigned time with him. He met with each of us on a schedule, but off-hours were unscripted, and it was then we learned about each other’s cultures. He was fascinated by sports, especially baseball.
Sitting in the lab with him, I asked him about other alien races, and he surprised me that they had never met a non-humanoid race.
“Never?”
“No. Skin color and texture often differ, but all are bipedal humanoids, using your term.”
“Your scientists have any theories on that fact?”
“I suppose what your scientists would deduce. We have a common ancestor or the same creator. I have been reading about your religions and find they are not unlike ours. So, we may interpret our experiences to be from the same causal event.”
“We are kin, you believe?”
As it did now, T’Lan’s face often displayed puzzlement when processing an unfamiliar word or phrase. He smiled and answered, “Yes, kin. I understand. I think that is a fair assumption.”
It was a month later when, once again, everything changed.
~~~
Liam and I were having dinner, sitting at a table away from T’Lan and Marian, who were dining with the chief engineer, James Clarkson. James had taught T’Lan to play chess, and they had become friends. We watched the heavy snow fall from the large windows in the mess hall, a reminder of our isolation in a treacherous environment. Yet, none of us would trade the experience for a sunny, hot beach, as tempting as that sounded.
Antarctic summer was only a few weeks away, and the first planes would arrive soon, and there would be crew exchanges. I was not leaving. As a scientist, I could not walk away when there was much to learn, and I had decided to remain for at least one more year. I corresponded with my family and friends, but my work and Liam were here. There had been talk of moving T’Lan to a secure location in the US, but he was invaluable to us at the outpost. It was far too soon to do that. I needed to know Liam’s plans. We had become close during these months, and my nerves were raw, worrying if he planned to leave.
I had planned what to say but blurted it out. “Liam, are you returning home when the planes arrive?”
He looked away. “I know you aren’t.”
“Not what I am asking.”
“Dr. Saitō and Dai are returning on the first flight. Saitō will debrief the involved governments on the discovery, and then he will return. I am not sure Dai will, as he has a young family.”
I was getting exasperated. “Liam, please.”
“The CIA wants an in-person report, and I may return for a few weeks, but…”
At that moment, the general alarm sounded as the PA activated. “Dr. Marcus, department heads, please report to the compound control room.”
A repetitive tone greeted us when the elevator doors opened onto Level One of the compound. T’Lan pushed through the group and raced to the control room.
My heart raced at the apprehension on T’Lan’s face. Marian stood next to him. “What’s happening, T’Lan?”
“That is the long-range sensor alert.” He touched the screen, and the beeping stopped. “It has picked up two signals on course for this planet.”
“Did you send for them?” Marian’s tone was stern and questioning.
He spun toward her. “No, I did not. However, the opening of my escape pod may have triggered the signal.”
“These signals may be ships from your world?”
“Possibly, one might be.”
“One?”
“The signals come from two different directions and appear to be ships. One from the region my planet is located and one,” he paused, “… one from the direction of Thona. The only good thing is that the ship from Loria is closer and should arrive first.”
“No question that they are coming here?”
“None.”
“When will they arrive?”
“Without computations, I suspect ten of your Earth weeks.”
Silence fell over the group as we realized two alien ships were on course for Earth. Liam slipped his hand around mine and whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The two tiny blips on the monitor foretold our future.
Now we wait.
To be continued…
Author’s note: There is a word count for the Write the Story project. The admins are a bit lax in enforcing the limits set, and as an admin, I encourage authors to let us know. So, as an author, I asked my fellow admins, and they approved a longer story. I just couldn’t tell the sci-fi story that popped into my head in 5000 words or 8000 words. This is part one, and when a suitable prompt is selected, I will continue the story “Among Us.” Thank you for indulging me in a longer story.
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Strange Snow
Laura Brady DePace
The bamboo forest looked eerie in the first rays of the rising sun. The golden sunbeams glinted on the snow, turning it to sparkling fire, setting the wood aflame with the touch of the sun.
Snow? Suzanna thought. Snow on bamboo? That’s not right!
Bamboo is supposed to be green. A bamboo forest is supposed to be warm and sunny. It may be sunny today, but it’s certainly not warm! What is going on here?
“Well, that’s what I’m here to find out!” she said. Her voice sounded too loud in the silent wood. She looked around her to see if anyone had heard her. But the wood was empty.
Suzanna pulled out her phone. First, she brought up her assignment: “Investigate unnatural snowfall, Kyoto, Japan. Reported 20 March.”
She looked around her. Yup. Snow. Yup. Unusual. Probably unnatural. Now what?
As a Field Agent for UWI – United World Investigations – Suzanna traveled all over the world, investigating unusual phenomena of all kinds. Most times, it was a weird, but natural, occurrence. A rain of frogs, touted by several religious groups to be a deity-driven warning to humankind, for example. It turned out to have been caused by a waterspout that briefly touched down in an exceptionally fecund marshland, sucked up a large colony of frogs, and redeposited them ten miles away when the waterspout touched down again.
In a human-caused incident, thousands of bright-yellow rubber duckies buried a beach knee-deep in ducks, overnight. That one was the result of a barge, sunk years before, that was torn open by an earthquake. The very normal push of the current deposited them in a quiet backwater of a bay.
And then, of course, there were always incidents deliberately caused by humans, in the name of making some point or other. Dumping red paint in the Grand Canal in Venice, for example, to make the waters “run with the blood of the innocents.”
This one, though – this freak snowstorm in a place that never gets snow – felt like the real thing. A genuine otherworldly phenomena.
In her years with UWI, Suzanna had only run into a handful of these “real things.” One time, she had been called to investigate a small town in which a mysterious mist appeared, paralyzing the town in blinding gray fog for three days. Suzanna had been dispatched on the second day. It had been unnerving, and definitely unnatural. Unlike a typical Earthly fog, this one had been decidedly gray in color, and of a thicker material. As it dissipated on the third day, Suzanna managed to trace it back to a clearing in the marshland just outside town. When she reached the edge of the marsh, suddenly the clearing was filled with a blue-gray light, and a whirring sound, as an object rose into the air, pulling the blanket of fog with it, then disappeared in a flash of light. Suzanna reported it – “Off-World Visit. No artifacts obtained.” – and thanked her lucky stars that it was someone else’s job to explain it away with a non-alien excuse.
Once she had encountered a real-life alien. It was a rather bloodthirsty feline-type creature of unknown origin. She had called up an Extraction Team, and together they had subdued the Sabertooth Cat-like creature and removed it to a research lab. She tried very hard not to wonder what became of it there.
But this snow. This had the feel of a human touch. Ish.
She pulled up a map of the area on her phone. The little red arrow indicated her position a mile or so inside the Area of Effect. The Area itself appeared to be a rough circle of about a ten-mile diameter. Zooming in on her phone, she made out a small cluster of buildings in the center of the snow patch. Good place to start, she thought.
Winding her way through the trees, she reached the site within an hour’s cautious walk. She wanted to remain inconspicuous, undetected as long as possible. After all, she had no idea what she was dealing with.
She paused at the edge of a small clearing, ducking behind one of the denser bamboo stands. From there she could peek out at the compound without being seen.
In the center of the clearing stood a small brick house. Neat and well cared for, it sported white- painted window frames and doors, with smoky gray shutters that were open to the sun. A thin spiral of smoke rose from the brick chimney at one end of the little cottage.
To one side of the house, there was a small corral which contained a few goats and a llama. The corral was attached to a small wooden barn. Beside the corral was a tiny house with a ramp leading up to it; a chicken coop. The chickens ranged in front of the house, clucking and poking about in the snow to reach the grass beneath.
To the right of the house stood the most beautiful snowman Suzanna had ever seen. It stood easily eight feet tall, made of perfectly molded snowballs that must have each weighed at least 25 pounds. Beside this behemoth squatted a very small girl and a very large dog. The child was dressed all in pink, with rosy cheeks and windblown long dark hair. The dog was a monster of a German Shepherd, with long, silky-looking fur that was as windblown as the child’s hair.
When the child stood, she barely reached the top of the bottom-most snowball. Clearly she was much too tiny to have been responsible for this massive snowman. She reached up to pat the middle ball with the tips of her fingers. Turning to the dog, she said something to it. The dog didn’t reply. The two of them, child and dog, looked up at the snowman.
Then the child waved her hands in the air over her head, making a swirling motion. Like magic, a windy stream of snow appeared. It hovered above the gigantic snowman. The child laughed, a joyful, tinkling sound, and began what looked like a dance, weaving and twisting her body, gracefully waving her hands like a conductor. The stream of snow obeyed her every move. She pointed to the head of her snowman, cupping her hands to form a ball, expanding the imaginary ball as the snow-stream added on to it, building the head ever bigger. She mimed creating a face – round eyeballs, a pointy nose, a smiling mouth – and the snow obeyed her.
“Holy moly!” Suzanna gasped aloud. Both the child and the dog turned in her direction. The dog’s hackles rose, and he growled, exposing the whitest, most dangerous-looking teeth Suzanna had ever seen. “Holy moly!” she gasped again, as the dog launched himself towards her like a blood-seeking missile.
“Hans! No!” the child ordered, in a surprisingly commanding little-girl voice. The dog froze mid-attack.
“Come out, please,” the child requested politely. Suzanna stepped out from behind the trees, hands up, trying to look as non-threatening as she could possibly be.
“Hello,” Suzanna said, in a voice that came out as a whisper. She took a breath, swallowed, and tried again. “Hello!” Much better.
Just then, the door of the cottage sprang open and a woman came striding out, hastily pulling on a jacket.
“Hans! Guard!” she ordered. The dog returned to the child, standing protectively in front of her. The woman never took her eyes off of Suzanna. “Cammie. Get inside.”
“But, Mama -” the girl protested.
“Now.” The woman snapped her fingers, and the dog took the child by the arm to lead her back inside. Bowing to the inevitable, the child sighed and went with the dog, looking longingly over her shoulder at Suzanna, and at her snowman. The snowy whirlwind dropped lifelessly to the ground.
The woman waited until the door to the house closed. Her eyes had still not left Suzanna’s face. “Who are you?” she asked. “And what are you doing here?”
Slowly lowering her hands, Suzanna’s eyes locked on the woman’s. She seemed “normal” – that is, she didn’t appear to be an alien. She had the same dark hair as the child, and her eyes were obsidian-black. She was maybe five foot four, slightly built, but she had a toughness about her that gave Suzanna pause. Suzanna might be a bit taller and heavier than this woman, but she had no doubt who would win in a confrontation. Especially if that confrontation involved the little girl.
Suzanna made a mental note: Avoid confrontation. Honesty might be the best policy; she had a feeling that this woman would somehow know if she was lying.
“I’ll know if you’re lying,” she said.
“Jeez, did you read my mind?” Suzanna sputtered. The woman looked at her quizzically. Huh. Lucky guess, she thought.
“My name is Suzanna Epstein,” she introduced herself. “I’m an agent for United World Investigations.”
“Agent?!” the woman gasped, fear touching her face as she took a step back.
“Not a ‘real’ agent!” Suzanna hastened to reassure her. “It’s just my title. I’m not, like, CIA or anything.”
“Then what are you?” Mama demanded. “And what exactly is United World Investigations? I’ve never heard of them.”
“We like to keep a low profile,” Suzanna said. “UWI investigates – er – unusual events and conditions, to identify their source and determine their threat level.”
The woman stared at her stonily. Suzanna could see her processing what she had said. She figured she’d better talk fast, or Mama would sic that dog on her, and the shredded remains of her body would never be found.
Suzanna pasted a reassuring smile on her face. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you,” she assured her. The woman’s eyes flicked back at the house. “Or your daughter,” she hastily added. “I’m here to investigate – this,” she explained, indicating the snowy wood and the gigantic snowman.
The woman looked around her, as if seeing the snowy yard for the first time. “Oh,” she said, her eyes measuring Suzanna. She shivered, as if just realizing how cold it was out here in the snow. “I guess you’d better come in,” she invited reluctantly. She gestured toward the house, following closely behind Suzanna.
When they reached the door, she called, “Hans! Guard!” A small scuffle could be heard inside, accompanied by a muttered, “Oh, come on!” in the child’s voice. “Fine!” the child added, and the scuffle stopped. The woman opened the door, ushering Suzanna in. At the far side of the room, the child sat in a small rocking chair, the dog attentively standing guard before her.
The woman gestured to a table and chairs in the kitchen. “Sit, please,” she invited, just short of an order. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she added with forced politeness.
“Yes, thank you, that would be lovely,” Suzanna replied as she took a seat. The woman bustled around the tiny kitchen, putting the water on to a wood stove to heat while she prepared the teapot.
Suzanna looked around the cottage. The kitchen was small, but cozy, with a massive wood-burning cookstove and a hand-pump at the sink. No electricity, she thought. Interesting. An enormous stone fireplace dominated the wall where the child sat. Beyond her Suzanna could see doors leading into two rooms, probably bedrooms.
“I’m Cammie,” the child said from the corner. “Short for Camellia,” she added, rolling her eyes.
The dog growled.
“Hi, Cammie. I’m Suzanna.”
The woman sat down opposite her at the table, without introducing herself. They nodded guardedly, sizing each other up. Whose move was it? Silence from Mama. Okay, I’ll go, Suzanna thought.
“This – unusual – snow is what brought me here,” she began. Mama glanced over at Cammie.
“Sorry, Mama,” Cammie whispered, looking down.
“My company, UWI, investigates unusual events, like this snow,” Suzanna continued. “We send Agents, like me, all over the world to check things out. In a lot of cases, there’s a natural explanation for an event. But sometimes there’s not.” Her gaze drifted from Mama to Cammie and back again. The dog growled.
“Sometimes,” she went on, “these – events – are caused by what we call Off-World Visits, or OWV’s.” She glanced at her audience. Blank stares. Okay, she thought, didn’t really think that was it. “That would be, like, UFO’s and aliens,” she elaborated. Mama curled her lip disdainfully. Cammie chuckled. The dog growled.
Suzanna took a deep breath. This was where it got tricky.
“Sometimes,” she said, these events involve – er – very special people.” She waited for their reaction. Mama froze up. Cammie looked scared. The dog growled.
Mama rose abruptly. “I think you should go,” she said coldly.
“No, please,” Suzanna implored. “Please hear me out!” She looked down at her untouched teacup. “We haven’t had our tea!” she added, lifting the cup to her lips and mentally crossing her fingers.
Mama sat back down, and Suzanna allowed herself a tiny sigh of relief. She replaced the cup in the saucer.
“Let’s just say – hypothetically, of course – that your daughter has exhibited unusual – er – abilities.” Mama stiffened. Cammie twitched and hid her face in her hair. The dog growled. “If that were the case – hypothetically – you would probably be inclined to try to hide it. Try to avoid the manifestation of these abilities. You might feel a need to relocate frequently, moving away when something – er – unusual happened.” Mama’s eyes were locked on her. Cammie, still hiding in her hair, tensed, hanging on every word. The dog growled. Suzanna swept the cottage with her eyes. “You might even feel the need to hide somewhere, away from other people, to keep your secret.”
Cammie was staring at her now, wide-eyed. “She knows!” she whispered. “Mama, she knows!”
“She knows nothing!” Mama snapped. She looked over at the dog, who began to move menacingly in Suzanna’s direction. Cammie stood, wrapping her arms around the dog, arresting his movement.
“I do know!” Suzanna said quickly. “I know because I’ve seen it before! You are not the only ones! I can help you!”
Mama held one finger up to the dog. He sat again, still ready to protect his charge, in a sort of doggy at-ease.
“Explain yourself,” Mama ordered.
And so she did. She told them about the small group of children who she had met in her work, special children, with special abilities. She told them about a school for those children, a school that she had been told about by a very gifted friend.
Suzanna explained that her friend, Aubrey, was one of the people who ran this school, New Day Academy. The purpose of New Day was to help these special children to learn to understand and control their powers. Aubrey herself had special abilities, as did many others on the staff of the school. Aubrey’s power had drawn her to the school when she was a child; she spent years there as a student, then stayed on as a staff member when she grew up. She, and the other staff members and teachers, were dedicated to providing a safe and supportive environment for these very special children.
Over the years, Suzanna and Aubrey occasionally found themselves assigned to the same reported phenomena: strange animals, odd weather patterns, disappearances and incidents of invisibility. Fairly often, there was a special child involved. The two women had developed a strong professional relationship which allowed them to discreetly resolve the issues and offer safe harbor at New Day when appropriate.
While Suzanna (to her unending disappointment) did not have any special abilities, she firmly believed that there were many people out there who did. And – here was the important bit – she did not think that those people, and their abilities, were any of the business of any corporation or government. Not UWI, not the CIA, not the FBI.
“Why?” Mama asked.
“Why what?” Suzanna asked, looking at her blankly.
“Why are they – we – not the government’s business?”
Ah. This was the important point.
“Because you’re people,” Suzanna answered honestly. “You’re not machines. You’re not subjects for lab tests. You’re not weapons-in-training. You’re people. With your own minds, and your own lives. And what you do with your minds and your lives is up to you.
“I don’t think that any business or any government – not even the most honorable, reliable one – should have that kind of power in their control. I don’t trust them to do the right thing. Some, I’m sure, would think they were doing the right thing. But it’s not their decision to make. It’s your decision. Yours and your daughter’s.”
“So what happens now?” Mama asked. Mingled fear and hope shone in their eyes.
“Now, you decide,” Suzanna said. “What do you want to happen? Do you want to go to the school? Stay here? Move again, to someplace new? It’s up to you.”
Silence fell on the room. Mama and Cammie exchanged a loaded look. Suzanna sipped her tea and waited. It was up to them now.
“Would you excuse us for a moment?” Mama asked politely.
“Uh, sure,” Suzanna replied, looking around the room. “Would you like me to step outside?”
“No, no, you stay here,” Mama hastened to reply. “We’ll take a walk outside.” Grabbing their coats, Mama and Cammie went out into the snowy yard. To Suzanna’s relief, they took Hans with them. She sat at the table, wondering what they would decide.
She could see them through the window beside her, walking around the yard. Sometimes they seemed to be calmly discussing, but sometimes she could see emotions breaking through. Mama working hard to stay calm. Cammie pleading her case, whatever it was. Little snow squalls would occasionally break out around Cammie, swirling about their heads.
After what seemed like a long time, but was probably no more than 15 minutes, they returned to the cottage. Cammie came to sit at the table with Suzanna and her mother. Hans went to lie in front of the fireplace, his eyes fixed unnervingly on them.
It was Cammie who spoke. “I want to do it,” she said firmly. “I want to go to this school.” She looked up at her mother, and they exchanged a strained smile. “It’s got to be better than this!” she concluded, gesturing at the lonely, isolated cottage.
Mama continued. “It’s as you said,” she admitted. “Cammie has always had odd – abilities, I guess you would call them, ever since she was a few years old. When she was happy, the day was sunny. When she was sad, it rained. When she was angry, the weather turned stormy. And she always liked snow.” She reached out a hand to ruffle Cammie’s hair. “As she has gotten older, her – abilities – have grown in strength. They’ve become harder for her to control. Particularly when she gets emotional. Whenever there was a particularly – strong – incident, we would pack up and move. Get away from it. Finally we wound up here. We thought, way out here, by ourselves, no one would notice a little … snow.”
“It’s a good ten square miles of snow,” Suzanna offered apologetically. “Couldn’t be overlooked. Or ignored.”
“Ten miles!” Mama gasped.
Cammie’s mouth popped open in a surprised “O”.
“Yeah,” Suzanna said ruefully. “Caught our attention, you might say.”
“So what happens now?” Mama asked, concerned. “If they know about it – sent you out here – we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. Can we?”
“No worries,” Suzanna reassured her. “I can fix it. This isn’t my first – er – encounter.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Let me call my friend at the school.” She looked from mother to daughter. “Her school is in the US, in New England,” she cautioned them. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”
“Cammie?” Mama asked.
“It’s ok, Mama,” Cammie reassured her. “It’ll be a new start for us. A whole new life.” She looked around the room. “No neighbors to miss us,” she chuckled. “And, really, no friends.” She smiled a little sadly. “I would really like to be able to make friends,” she whispered. “Maybe this is my chance!”
Suzanna stepped outside to make her call.
“Aubrey,” said the very American voice on the other end of the line. “How can I help you?”
Suzanna made the arrangements to get Cammie and her mama – and, of course, Hans – over to the States. Aubrey made the arrangements for meeting them and ushering them to New Day Academy, that very special school for very special people.
Now all Suzanna had to do was to make up a plausible story to tell UWI. While she enjoyed working for the company – it was interesting, always-varied work – she didn’t completely trust them when it came to something like this. Didn’t trust them enough to deliver the lives of Cammie and her Mama into their hands.
Suzanna had kept the existence of the school – and its very special students – to herself, just between her and Aubrey, per Aubrey’s request. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous, to herself, to Aubrey, to children like Cammie, and to the safe haven that New Day Academy offered.
Some sort of a freak supercell weather event should suffice, she thought. Yes, that will do nicely, she decided, as she made her way back out through the strange, yet beautiful, snow.
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A Snowy Wood Nightmare
Marian Wood
Snowy Wood
This was it. All the planning and packing for a trip away and it snows. British weather is unpredictable, and the idea of a romantic break had sounded fun. This was far from fun. The brochure showed a sunny cabin in a wood. A beautiful remote location. Have to admit it is beautiful, but in the snow it is cold and lonely. The hut has no heating and there is no one else around here for miles.
My car had struggled up the snowy dirt track to get here, so I didn’t fancy the risk of going out unnecessarily. The brochure should have advised that we need an off-road vehicle. Not a twelve-year-old Ford.
Sitting on the porch, I tell myself that I am lucky to be here. If it had not snowed, I wouldn’t be sitting here sulking. Hearing my name called, I reluctantly stood up and went inside. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to hear.
The evening news had just started. Barry sat with his mouth open. The news reporter was standing in a wood, our wood, covered in snow. I sat down, my legs shaking like jelly. I could see the people dressed in white suits behind him. A dog walker had discovered a body, and they thought it was a holiday maker staying nearby.
We can’t leave just yet as it’s snowing outside now, and we risk getting stuck if we attempt it. Hearing a knock at the door, I looked at Barry. Should we ignore them? As they knocked again, Barry got up,
“It might be the police.”
Barry
As he left to answer the door, I sat back and watched the news. I now learnt that there had been disappearances all over the nearby village. The holiday maker had been one of many. Had she been staying here? If she had, all her stuff had gone. Maybe her killer had covered his tracks. Remembering Barry, I got up now to check on him. All was quiet, and the door was wide open. Feeling sick, anxiety shooting through me, where is he?
Slowly walking now, I glance outside, no signs of Barry. I was alone. What now? do I shut the door? Do they know I’m here? Pulling out my phone, I can feel the tears now chasing down my face.
“911 emergency, which service would you like, please?”
“Police, my husband has been murdered.”
Had he been? He wasn’t here.
“Mam, where are you?”
“In a cabin, in the wood on the news. Stammering, I’m thinking the worst.”
“I’m sending two officers out. Inspector Williams and PC Jones. They will be carrying ID and have matching bands on their cuffs. Please don’t panic!”
Don’t panic. My husband has disappeared. He went to answer the door and vanished. Hearing a police car outside, I wondered how they got here so quick. Then I remembered the police presence surrounding the body.
Answering the door, the lady officer motioned me to come out. Trusting her, I told them my story. s I relaxed and talked, I let my guard down. As I talked, the lady put her arm around me, and they walked me to the car. They then offered to help find Barry, Getting into the car, all I could think about was finding him safe.
The police
Williams brought the jeep to a stop outside the small hut. Seeing the door wide open he felt uneasy.
“Jeff, she’s not here. That hut is empty.”
“Where would she have gone?”
“I don’t know, but she’s not here. Something’s really wrong”.
Jeff Williams got out of the car and checked the hut. Finding it empty, he closed the door behind him.
“Follow the tyre tracks, Julie. She can’t have gone far.”
Julie Jones had been a Police Constable for many years and had seen things that would cause nightmares. The latest series of murders had confused the police as they appeared to all be random. Following the tyre tracks, they drove for about a mile around the wood. Entering into a further deserted area, Jeff put his foot on the brakes as he saw what looked like a police car ahead. The car was stopped at a farmhouse. Was this where the couple were? And where the murder suspect might be?
Julie radioed through for more officers and gave their location.
“Now we need to sit and wait,”
Help
About fifteen minutes later, a helicopter could be heard and then cars, speeding towards them. Julie and Jeff picked up their guns and took it now as their time to get out and join the other officers. As the helicopter landed, someone ran out the back of the farmhouse, soon to be caught and handcuffed.
As the police entered, the stench of flesh and fear met them. What really was the sense in all of this? Hearing a woman wailing, they followed the noise, Realising it was coming from the basement, down they went.
Found
I have never been so scared ever in my life. Being captured and then dragged into this basement was not on my agenda this week. Barry is next to me, alive but unconscious, Hearing the people arrive upstairs, I worried that this was it, this really was the end.
As PC Julie Jones took my hand, relief flooded through me. She advised that the men had been captured upstairs and I was safe now. I told her that I really should not have gotten into their car. Julie reassured me that if I had not gotten in their car, they might not have followed the tyre tracks and found us as quickly as they did. Tracks that wouldn’t have been there if there was no snow.
Later
A few weeks later, I found a news article about the farmhouse. The men had been at their gruesome business for a while. There was more than one body found and body parts. We had been lucky, but the next time Barry wants to go on a romantic weekend anywhere, I think we will opt for a busy hotel with a swimming pool. Not a remote, idyllic, snowy wood.
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