“What do you know about this?” asked Sasha, as she continued to text on her phone.
“Oh, some stupid news story, my ex-boyfriend got me interested in,” said Elena.
“What happened?” asked Sasha.
"There was a growing gang problem in southern Oklahoma. And the allegation is that the Oklahoma governor created some special purpose task force. They were supposed to train local law enforcement agencies in military tactics so that the local police and county sheriffs could combat these small-town cartels. Law enforcement was not politically popular at the time, so the governor did it in secret so he would be away from the problem, but with the hope that, with proper training, the local police could handle the problem for him,” said Elena.
“But if they were just supposed to be trainers, why are they called the Death Squad?” questioned Sasha. Her eyes were now torn away from the TV and she stared at Elena.
“I don’t know, but it’s apparent they did more than just training.”
"Why was your boyfriend interested? Wait, was he wealthy because he was into the drug cartels?"
“Haha, no!” Elena mumbled, acknowledging Sasha’s mocking tone. “Chance was just a good stock-broker…although that’s not politically correct anymore. He was a ‘financial advisor.’ He was from Gene Autry, Oklahoma, and some of the stories started in that area. Chance was an odd duck that way; he liked to act like a clown about some things, but when it came to serious issues, he always wanted to be sincere. This case in particular…”
“Men!” grumbled Sasha.
"Yep," said Elena with a chuckle, as she tuned into the television. As she spoke, her words faded off, making it clear she was no longer listening to her friend.
"I don't understand why he didn’t say anything. How could I know someone for so long, and he just quit on me like that?” asked Elena. Shaking her head and turning off the television, Elena turned her attention back to her friend Sasha.
“Maybe that’s just his character,” said Sasha.
“No, I know his character. Look Sasha, sometimes I know I come across as naïve. Maybe there were things about him that I didn’t know, but him? I knew him. I knew his character. Better than anyone else on earth. I’m afraid something is wrong. I’m worried. It’s like he just vanished,” said Elena.
"I don't get it, Elena. He broke your heart. He may have even been cheating on you. Why do you still care for him? But why, why do you still love him?” asked Sasha.
"I love him because he is mine."
They continued talking until almost midnight before they fell asleep with their bodies full of sugar and the artificial preservatives of processed ice cream.
***
CAW CAW CAW CAW
Animal cries broke the silence. Elena jumped from her chair and ran towards the direction of the sound.
“Crows!” she griped to herself. “They must have dragged something onto my porch!”
Elena walked towards the scream and opened her front door.
“Sure enough!” she cried to herself.
Outside, two ravens on the porch were pitted in a battle for a scrap of meat. They furiously shook their heads shook from side to side as they attempted to tear the unknown food source from the other.
“Argh, that smells awful!” Elena cried and covered her face with her shirt.
The two scavengers beat their scarlet-covered wings against each other as they stretched their necks out desperately gripping the meat with their teeth. As they bit down, both threw their talons up against the other. A red mist hung in the air as they two birds continued to fight. Elena lined up the shot, stepped into a sweeping soccer-style kick and booted the birds off her porch. The fighting was so intense they ignored Elena as she screamed and beat her foot against the ground. Finally, Elena kicked the two jet birds. One of the crows shot from her shoe into her front yard. It skyrocketed through the air and rolled over and over again. Before impacting, the bird threw out its pinions and landed softly on the grass. It circled out in protest and threw its head forward before it turned and flew away.
Finally free from its competition, the other crow dug its head into the meat. In triumph, it threw its head back, a portion of its prize rolling down into its throat. Then, it looked up from its meal as if it were looking directly at Elena. A pasty, red liquid dripped from its beak.
"Is that jelly?" Elena loudly asked as tried to inspect its body.
CAW CAW CAW CAW
The crow's cries went into a decrescendo, as it flew away with the rest of its prize.
"Look over there,” Sasha said. "Whoa!" Elena jumped back in surprise. She looked back and saw Sasha standing on the porch. "Sasha, I thought you were still asleep. You spooked me, I didn’t see you come out."
"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you."
"Well, you did."
"Well, there is something that is spooking me."
"What?"
"Look over there," said Sasha, this time pointing to the sky.
High in the air, buzzards flew in a circular motion, in the dark wooded area behind Elena’s house.
CHAPTER 2: THE VIKING FINANCIAL ADVISOR
Jon T. Chance – Henryetta, Ok
Theresa Clark and Julie Jennings worked as office assistants at the Canton Financial Office located on Henryetta’s Main Street. Theresa was a handsome woman approaching her fifties. She had unofficially become the maternal figure in the office, keeping her Financial Advisor organized and her younger counterpart in line. Julie was a part-time employee and a full-time college student.
"That’s odd," said Theresa as she looked down at her watch.
"What's odd?"
"He's late. He's never late. He is always at least fifteen to twenty minutes early? Have you ever seen him come in late?"
"Oh, heck no. I’m always afraid to be late. Wait, have you ever even opened the office?"
“No, I haven’t. I thought that was kind of weird, but this is not like him at all,” said Theresa shaking her head in disbelief.
"Stop!" cried Julie as she jumped from her seat and sat on her office desk. “Do you hear it?” she asked as she clapped her hands in a quiet celebration.
"Hear what?"
"The motorcycle! He's almost here! I know his ride, and I love to hear the roar of that engine!" cried Julie.
“Julie, we’re not talking about the lead singer of a rock band. He’s your employer.”
“I know, I know, but a girl can dream, can't she?"
"No. For starters, you sound like a teenage fan-girl. Secondly, not while you are working for Mr. Chance, Julie. I know him. He likes to have fun outside of the office, but he's very strict when it comes to sales. Tone it down. If you interfere with the bottom line, he will fire you."
“I can hear his car approaching!" said Julie.
"Did you hear anything I just said?" asked Theresa.
"Sorry. Jon Tecumseh Chance is just so...intriguing. Fancy car, nice clothes, he could be like a secret agent or something," Julie curled her hair with her fingers.
"No. He’s more like a Viking who killed a British spy and stole his clothes. I'm always afraid he's going to bust out of a shirt during a sales presentation; he wears his shirts so tight."
“Yes, he certainly is buff. The other day in the gym, I saw him lifting six dishes, all on the bench."
“‘Six dishes?'" asked Theresa.
“Whatever those things are called, you know?" said Julie.
“You mean the forty-five-pound plates?" asked Theresa.
“Yeah, he lifted them like seven or eight times," said Julie.
“Well, he should be strong. The inside of his office smells like a GNC Store."
“That’s funny. Most of those strong guys never do cardio or run. But I have seen him running around Henryetta all the time."
"Yeah, as creepy as you sound, now that you mention it, it is kinda weird," said Theresa. "My husband has also said he sees him running around all the time. He says most big guys just st
ay in the weight room, but Chance runs quite a bit."
A bell rang, indicating the front door had opened. Julie almost squealed and looked at the bell. Below it was the entrance door. A six-foot tall figure entered the door.
"Mr. Jon T. Chance," said Julie, her eyes lighting up.
Just as Theresa had described, their employer's suit seemed painted onto his muscles. His tan three-piece suit and pink tie with a shiny gold clip were juxtaposed with riding gloves and a black motorcycle helmet that hid his face.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Jon T. Chance," announced Theresa sarcastically. "Now, are you going to remove that helmet? Your audience is patiently waiting for the big reveal."
Chance removed the black helmet, revealing a shock of golden hair cut into a pompadour.
“T for trouble,” Julie raised her eyebrows for emphasis.
“You know,” a smiling Chance countered, “you are not the first female to say that to me.”
“Well,” interjected Theresa as she stood up from her seat, “you seem pretty confident today. Did anything special occur?"
“I just dominated some weights," said Chance.
“Well, you still smell like a gym,” said Theresa shaking her head as Julie and Chance’s conversation bordered on unprofessional. “Have you been spending time in a supplement store?”
“No, but this morning was a champion combination of protein bars and energy drinks," Chance grinned as he gave an “A-okay” symbol with his fingers. “Wait,” said Julie. “I thought Monday was steak and eggs.”
“Yeah, it used to be," Chance responded. “And you have boasted how Monday is a run day,” Julie continued, her obsessiveness becoming more evident.
“Yes, it was nice. Changed things up. No steak. No eggs. No run. This weekend, no work," said Chance.
“Your routine has changed?” Theresa sounded shocked. “You might as well have changed your religion.”
“I guess in a way you could say that,” Chance answered slowly before shifting his eyes from the ground back to Theresa. “How was your weekend? How is your husband, Willem?”
“Willem?” snorted Theresa. “I almost forgot who you were talking about. My husband works Okmulgee county, but he has been exclusively in Henryetta, but he’s so busy. Willem is so busy, I hardly see him."
"Working in Henryetta? That's crazy. He's a trooper so isn't he assigned to patrol the county?” asked Chance, “He has the whole county and he’s working overtime in this little town?"
"Yup. The overtime is nice, but I would rather not worry about my husband,” she replied. “Whatever happened down in that dirty little town in Little Dixie, it has ripple effects all over the state."
"Yeah, that stuff is spooky. But you can only do so much,” Chance said.
“Sounds like you’re becoming very care-free,” said Theresa.
“I guess you could say that. So what about you Julie? Did you get some studying done this weekend?"
“A little economics, but most of the weekend was history," said Julie.
“History? Yuck! How boring!” exclaimed the amateur body-builder.
“Wait, you're the biggest nerd I know...literally, the most muscled up nerd I know,” said Julie, “you are always dragging on and on about the market and other languages. So you love all that stuff and hate history?"
“Yes! The Greeks believed if you could learn a language, you could learn anything. Then, economics is a story of choices,” said Chance, picking at his helmet. “You could say it is psychology without all the Freudian stuff. It’s all about incentives, and incentives drive everything," said the stockbroker.
“So why don't you like history?" asked Julie.
Chance boasted a broad, arrogant grin, but it dropped from his face. He lowered the volume of his voice, "Who wants to get brought down by the past?"
Chance could feel the eyes of the senior secretary penetrating him. He shook his head and looked back at Theresa. He opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but then changed his mind and walked straight to his office.
CHAPTER 3: ELENA’S NEW DOG
Elena Doolin - Henryetta, Ok
The buzzards flew high above Elena’s house. The sounds of the crows were drowned by the sound of a car engine turning over. Elena looked up. Sasha was in her car, adjusting her steering wheel.
Sasha left abruptly, leaving Elena standing in front of her house wondering what had just happened. Living out in the country meant Elena could play her cello at odd times without annoying her neighbors. It also meant when she was alone, she was alone. More crows, hidden from her sight, cried out. Buzzards circling in the air began to fly down to the ground.
Elena shivered and then went inside. In the rural environment in which she had grown up, she had been around death. She had seen calves, dogs, cats, all perish under the harsh realities of life on a farm, but this time something was different. The musician stayed inside, splitting the blinds with her fingers and peering out towards the woods.
Her phone buzzed.
She fumbled to unlock the screen.
It’s a murder.
Elena Doolin furrowed her eyebrows in shock as she looked at the screen.
“Who is talking about a murder?” asked Elena to herself.
It was from Sasha Ferrell.
What? Elena typed, as she said the word aloud.
A group of crows is called a 'murder.' Sorry, the English major came out of me. Sasha’s message came a minute later.
You just left. Why are you telling me about a murder of crows? Elena quickly responded.
From our conversation, about what a group of crows is called. A group of crows is called murder. I just answered the question. It’s a murder.
"A murder," said Elena to herself, as she looked out into the woods.
In the distance, she could hear the caws of a murder of crows. A chill ran up her spine, her mouth went dry, and her stomach churned. The sky was now clear.
"They've landed," said Elena. "What’s back there?"
The words hung in the air, answered by no one.
"Something happened back there, and you need to see what it is,” Elena said to herself. She had inherited the house from her parents after they died. It was 80 acres, and she had supplemented her income by allowing ranchers to rent land for cattle. Behind it was a wooded area. As a kid, she had loved that area. She had ridden horses back there, taken friends back there, and gone back there to be alone.
Something did not feel right.
With a new determination, Elena walked briskly into her room, and into her walk-in closet. Inside it, she opened her safe and pulled out her .40 caliber Glock. She press-checked the pistol and nodded her head once she saw the bullet seated correctly in the barrel.
Elena pulled out a holster and hooked it onto her belt before lodging her weapon inside it. Weapons would always be controversial, but in the last few months after the incidents in McCurtain County, everyone she knew had started to carry a handgun, either a revolver or a pistol.
The stress made Elena's front door feel like it weighed a thousand pounds as she opened it.
“What’s back there?” asked Elena.
Crossing the threshold of her front door, she moved forward. Each step she took was deliberate, but she still wanted to turn back and go back inside. The sound of the murder grew louder.
CAW CAW CAW CAW
Her hands began to shake. It was no longer just the shiver running down her spine that bothered her.
Now, she felt a new sensation. Elena’s mind raced and took her back to middle school. She remembered the strange boy who gawked at her and the terrible feeling she had felt returned. Eyes were watching her.
There was no way she could articulate it. It was just a gut feeling and she believed it to be true.
Quickly she drew her pistol. Her movement so fast, that for a split second she was shocked that the semi-automatic handgun was in her hand.
“I know you’re out there!” she tried to yell, but she mana
ged only a whisper.
Elena had not studied tactics, but she knew she was out in the open, and whoever was out in the woods potentially had a clear observation of her.
Another sound caught her ear.
Moving the weapon back to the center of her cheat, in a "ready position," Elena redirected her head to the sound.
Again, she felt eyes watching on the right of her. In her left eye, a shape grew. Quickly she turned her head. The shape went from a gray mass into an animal. She aimed her weapon at the creature.
In an instant, she brought the weapon back to her chest and lowered it. A blue-heeler puppy walked towards her. It was barking, in the same direction where she had felt the eyes watching her.
Then the dog stopped barking, and Elena could feel the eyes no longer.
Holstering her weapon, she walked over to the dog. It was clean and wore a simple collar used to deter ticks. Instantly it began to play at Elena's feet. People in this area would drop off dogs in the country, but those animals were mangy, covered in ticks, and many were afraid of people. This dog had an owner that now Elena would have to find.
“You must have gotten scared and ran away?” asked Elena.
The dog licked her hand and rolled onto its back for her to scratch its belly.
She would find the owner eventually, but right now she enjoyed being distracted from her heart-ache by the puppy that rolled on the ground in front of her.
CHAPTER 4: RECURRING NIGHTMARES
Elena – Henryetta, Ok
The world was cold and dark. In her dream, Elena observed this world only in grayscale. The air was a transparent gray. It was thick and translucent, growing a darker shade of gray with each moment, polluting the open sky. A darker gray grew stronger, filling the open sky with pollution. White snow fell through the air. It began to grow from small white flakes, into globs of dark gray mass. Drifting down to the earth, it brought with it pollutants from a dark smoke that hung in the air.
The ground continued to grow darker from the tarnished snow. The sky became choked out by the smoke, the smoke spreading like an engulfing cancer.
The Dark Lord of Oklahoma Page 3
