Katie waited in the doorway until Julie started the car, throwing her a quick wave as backed out of the driveway. Once the car was out of sight, she closed the door. As she reentered her room, Katie kicked off her shoes, turned off the light, and plopped onto the bed. Exhausted, she fell asleep in a matter of minutes.
Chapter 26
Sitting in his recliner reading the newspaper, George heard a noise behind him, coming from outside of the window. Flicking the paper aside in annoyance, he turned his head to look and saw the vague shape of a female face peering back at him. It disappeared a moment later, followed by the sound of footsteps running on the porch. Setting the newspaper aside, he hurried to the front door and flung it open. Standing in the open doorway, he strained his eyes in search of movement, noticing a faint glow in the darkness that was coming from the other side of the street. Curious, he sat down on the porch to let his eyes adjust, but after a few minutes he was forced to wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him.
Suddenly, the Black Knight's voice boomed in his head, "They know."
They know? Who are they? And what could anyone possibly know? I'm positive that I've never left any evidence behind which could implicate any wrong doing on my part.
"They had help from the other side," the Black Knight growled loudly, making the teeth rattle in George's head.
What does he mean by the 'other side'? From the dream world?
Before George could finish his thought, the entity hissed in his skull, "From a restless soul, one who is not bound by the laws of flesh."
Impossible! A ghost is at the root of my problems? Surely, the cops wouldn't believe something so far fetched, would they?
"No more displays of your prowess in your world. It is getting far too dangerous. Bring your next victim here," the Black Knight instructed. "After you obtain your next victim, I will guide you back to my realm."
As he contemplated where to pull his next victim from, the image of a face—framed in light colored hair and peering through the window at him—fluttered in his mind. For reasons unknown, the face seemed familiar to him. Unable to ascertain where he might have seen it before, his brows furrowed in concentration. The headlights of a car traveled up the road, and as it passed his driveway George was suddenly certain its driver was the one he wanted to abduct next. He was sure of it.
As he watched the vehicle's taillights disappear into the distance, the gears in his mind churned. Recognition spread across his face. The face in the window ... It was one of the brats who rode my bus last year ... The little slut that hung out with the Johnson girl up the street. Methodically, George searched his memory, going over every detail of his bus route from last year in his mind. As he pieced together the puzzle, he was almost positive that he knew where the girl lived.
Rising from the porch, George went into the house and grabbed his van keys from the hook on the wall just inside of the front door. The snooping brat's house should only be a couple of miles away. If I hurry, I can find out for sure if she's the one I'm looking for.
A few minutes later, George turned off his headlights and pulled the van to the side of the road, leaving the motor running. When he exited the vehicle, his excitement began to build. If he believed in luck he would be crossing his fingers right now, but he didn't. What he did believe in was careful planning. So called "bad luck" was merely a missed step in the master plan, and entirely avoidable if he paid attention to the details.
As he approached the car in the driveway, George noticed that the taillights were similar to those he saw a short time ago, driving past his house. Inching his way to the front of the car, he lightly placed the back of his hand against the hood. The engine was still warm.
Satisfied that he had tracked down the correct vehicle, he quietly crept to the rear of the house. The front of the home was dark, but as George rounded the corner into the backyard he saw light shining out from two of the windows. Approaching the first one cautiously, he noticed the pane was partially open and a box fan sat on the sill, blocking his view. Despite this, he saw enough to determine that the room belonged to a teenage girl. Continuing to the next lighted aperture, he crouched beside it. Hearing the sound of running water, he peeked over the ledge and saw the silhouette of a female through the frosted glass of the shower door. I should have at least ten minutes. He ducked down, finishing his search of the perimeter.
After circling the house and finding no indication of anyone else being awake, George returned to the bathroom window and listened. The shower was still running.
Returning to the bedroom window, he grabbed a hold of the box fan and removed it from the sill, letting it slip through his hands until it reached the floor. Slowly pushing the sash upward, he crawled through the opening then turned to replace the fan on the sill. Scanning the room for a place to hide, he spotted a louvered door. It was just barely visible, hidden behind the bedroom door, which he would have to close slightly to get into the closet. Hopefully she wouldn't notice.
After a few minutes, the light filtering through the louvers became brighter as she entered the room and closed the door leading to the hall. Through the slats, it was hard for him to make out more than a darkened shape passing by. When she crossed to the other side of the room, George cracked the panel open so he could see her more clearly. She stood in her bathrobe in front of her dresser, and he assumed she was rummaging for something to wear to bed. While she was facing away, he silently left his hiding place and crept up behind her. As she pulled something out of the drawer, he quickly slipped his right arm around her throat, locking it into place with his left arm and covering her mouth with his hand. Using a sleeper hold, he dragged her away from the dresser to the middle of the room where she couldn't thrash into anything. Struggling violently while she could, she reached over her shoulder and tried clawing her attacker with her fingernails.
When she stopped fighting him, George lowered her limp body to the carpet. Preparing his escape, he went to the window and removed the fan again, opening the sash fully. Returning to his unconscious victim, he scooped her up in his arms and slowly slid her out of the window, feet first. It was an awkward task, but he finally managed to get her outside, pushing the dead weight of her body at the last moment so that it didn't slump back into the house and thud against the siding. As she lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, he slipped out of the window. Once outside, he picked her up from the grass and hefted her over his shoulder, carrying her to his waiting van.
With his victim safely secured in the back of the vehicle, George slid behind the wheel, intending to return home, but suddenly felt as if someone was watching him. Carefully, he checked all of his mirrors and windows, but saw no reason for alarm. The feeling faded after a moment, but was replaced by a strange sensation in his head, as if someone was in there, picking his brain. Without warning, the familiar voice of the Black Knight boomed inside his skull, demanding, "Go to the lodge!"
Disoriented momentarily, George was unsure where the entity wanted him to go. "Near your special place ... Where you display your playthings." The proverbial light came on in his head, but if the Black Knight wanted him to go to the park things could get tricky. George was positive that the police were watching the area pretty intently now, patrolling the paths and outbuildings heavily after discovering two bodies there. Surely, they couldn't cover the entire park. There had to be a way in, but it would take some serious scouting to find it.
Chapter 27
On the side of the park opposite from where the lodge was located, George found a driveway leading to the ranger's office. Pulling to the side of the road, he parked on the gravel shoulder. Leaving the engine idling and turning the headlights off, he got out of the van and crossed the road. Once on the other side of the pavement, he walked up the short, tree-lined driveway until it opened onto a small parking area where the ranger's office sat. No cars in the lot. No lights on in the office. That's a good sign. Spotting an electric golf cart parked next to the tiny building was even
better. He jogged back to his van, feeling like everything was going his way.
As he pulled into the lot and parked his vehicle, he opened the driver's door to get out and heard his captive mumbling incoherently. Wasting no time, he strolled to the rear doors and propped them open. He noticed that the girl was starting to regain consciousness, so George lifted her not entirely limp body into a sitting position and reapplied a sleeper hold on her. When her head lolled to the side, he released his grip and eased her body back to the floor.
Now that he was sure he had a little time, George grabbed a flashlight and strolled across the lot toward the golf cart, knowing he would probably have to hot wire the thing to get it running. He couldn't help but laugh as the beam of light danced off of the keys, dangling from the ignition. Hopping into the seat, he drove the cart toward the back of his van, grateful for the whisper-quiet engine; the only sound coming from the crunch of gravel under its tires.
Through the opened rear doors of the van, he grabbed the girl by her ankles and pulled her out far enough that he could get his arms underneath her. Within seconds, he transferred her limp body into the bin on the back of the cart.
Navigating the vehicle through the park with no lights was proving to be a difficult task, though, he didn't dare turn them on. That would have been like lighting a neon sign and telling the police, "Here I am!" The best he could hope for was to get where he needed to go ... before the girl started to wake up again. Thankfully, there were a lot of open areas in the park. During this time of year, the grass fields hosted their share of softball games, playing children, family barbecues, and the occasional volleyball game or two. Don't know why I didn't think of this sooner, but I believe there is a horse stable somewhere around here ... and if I'm right, the horses should use a separate path than the jogging trails I normally use. Correcting his course, he headed in the direction of the stable, or so he hoped.
After a few minutes, the building loomed before him. He hopped off the cart and briefly inspected the horse trail. Just as he suspected; no gravel to get stuck in the horses' hooves, the path was dirt. With the exception of possible bumps in the trail, it should be as quiet to travel on as going across the grass. Climbing back into his seat, he looked over his shoulder to make sure the girl was still sleeping before heading down the path.
After traveling for about ten minutes, George saw intermittent flashes of light through the trees off to his right. The kind created by flashlights. Bringing the cart to a stop, he sat and watched the beams sweep back and forth. Figuring he must be close to the lodge, the trick now was going to be getting past the police and inside of the building. From what he could tell, there were four officers patrolling the area, split into pairs.
Timing would be essential. As he studied their movements, he noticed that they repeated the exact same pattern every time they made a sweep. Both pairs walked toward each other until their lights nearly met, then turned and retraced their steps. Analyzing their pattern, and the synchronicity of their turns, George assumed they were counting their paces.
Getting out of the cart, George went to the bin at the rear of the vehicle where the girl still slept and scooped her into his arms, hefting her limp body onto his shoulder. Standing at the edge of the path, he watched and waited for his opportunity. As the flashlights came together the pairs turned, giving him about a minute to slip through their perimeter. George moved as quickly and quietly as he could, and prayed there wouldn't be any dead twigs in his path. The snap of dry wood would give him away immediately.
Ahead, he saw a slight break in the foliage that was likely caused by the jogging path. He was almost home free. Slipping through the shadows, he caught sight of the flashlights sweeping back in his direction from the corner of his eye. Shit! They're coming back! I need to hurry! Fifty feet ahead, George spotted a large tree trunk that he could hide behind and quickly made his way toward it.
A couple of minutes passed before George heard their voices as the patrols met. The officers paused their routine, conversing long enough to make George wonder if he had inadvertently left an indication that he had crossed the path. A footprint? A scuff mark in the gravel path? The moment stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Without warning, they swept the area around him with their flashlights. The beating of his heart pounded in his ears and he nearly panicked and bolted. Their beams of light continued to fan the area, giving him a brief glimpse of the lodge, which was still close to two hundred feet away. After waiting a minute longer, George saw the lights retreat to the path. Holding his breath and hoping for the best, he quickly scurried through the trees toward his destination.
Tucking himself into a shadow on one side of the lodge, he peeked around the corner. From what he could tell, the patrol hadn't turned back toward him yet. A quick scan of the building revealed a service entrance on the back wall of the structure. He moved silently to the door and tried the knob. Locked! Damn it!
Leaning against the door with the shoulder not bearing the girl, he steadily exerted more and more pressure. The solid panel moved slightly, but didn't open. George sighed softly. This is going to make a little noise, but hopefully not enough to draw attention. Taking a step back, he used his shoulder like a battering ram. The door splintered and buckled inward from the force of the blow, but as he should have been sprawling on the floor he felt an odd sensation pass through his body. Before he could figure out what caused it, the girl had rolled across the floorboards and stopped a few feet away.
As he turned his head toward the doorway to determine if the cops were preparing to arrest him, his jaw dropped open in disbelief. Where the fuck is the door? Blinking his eyes as if the sight before him were nothing more than a hallucination, George didn't see the expected chairs and tables of the lodge's dining hall, but instead was greeted by a much different sight. Small, metal desks lined one wall, which appeared to stretch for about fifty feet. Each of them had a large computer monitor resting on their surfaces, an interfacing keyboard plugged into the base of every console. The screens didn't look like anything he had ever seen before. They were shiny and metallic, as if they were made of chrome. Looking closer, George noticed that each monitor was displaying a different image, similar to security footage.
Unsteadily rising to his feet, he walked past the line of desks. Each screen was engraved with a number, the first bearing the number one on it and the last etched with the number thirteen upon its shiny surface. Glancing from one monitor to the next, each image George looked at appeared increasingly alien.
On one of the screens, the view swept back and forth over a large room in which people were chained to wooden crucifixes. Upon each of their heads was some sort of strange metallic device, which appeared to be an instrument of torture.
On yet another, George saw a large underground river. Perhaps it was the lighting, but the liquid seemed to glow. Resting on the water's surface was an odd, futuristic-looking ship, which looked like a cross between a pontoon boat, a freighter, and an alien spacecraft. The deck was lined with cages that nearly spanned the entire length of the craft, encased by what appeared to be a transparent bubble of some sort. The front of the vessel had perhaps a dozen or more seats, almost as if it were the first class section of an aircraft.
Incoherent mumbling temporarily diverted his attention from the monitors. Turning his gaze from the alien footage, he noticed his captive was beginning to regain consciousness. As he quickly scanned the rest of the room in search of a means to secure his prisoner, George spotted a doorway leading to another room off to one side. After taking a moment to investigate the chamber, he surmised that it was a bunkhouse. Several beds lined the interior. Spotting a closed door in the back corner of the room, he opened it to reveal a supply closet. A quick search of the cramped space produced a small coil of coated electrical wire, something he could use to bind the girl before she fully woke up.
When he reentered the main room, George saw the girl looking around in shocked disbelief at her surroundings. Be
fore she realized what was happening, he quickly crossed the room and knocked her face first to the floor. As her head struck the floorboards, George straddled her body and sat on her back, pinning her down. Grabbing her arms, he pulled them tightly behind her and lashed them together with the wire he had found. He rose from the floor and dragged her most of the way to her feet, keeping her off balance, and pulled her into the bunkhouse. Near one of the beds, George swept her legs from under her, causing her to land on her butt so hard that he heard her teeth click together. Using the remaining wire dangling from her bound arms, he lashed her tightly to the bed post. By this time, the girl's screams were so loud that George could barely hear himself think. Once he was satisfied that she was secure, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Entering the main chamber of the building, he was pleasantly surprised by how muffled the girl's screams were. Still, he would have to improvise if he wanted to get any sleep, but for now it was bearable.
With his prisoner secured, George felt confident that he could investigate his new surroundings at his leisure. Returning his attention to the row of monitors, most containing fairly sterile images, he saw that many displayed views of buildings that were completely devoid of any signs of life. Others showed more of a security type of footage, the images panning back and forth across the landscape outside. Most of the latter were difficult to make out any details because the darkness of night had apparently fallen over this world.
One screen grabbed his attention more than the others because it displayed a bustle of activity. From what George could tell, the image panned over a factory of some sort. A hundred or more people shuffled back and forth, assembling what appeared to be robots; most of these had humanoid qualities, but some looked more animal in nature.
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