The Creator

by Neil Carstairs

  ‘Stay in touch,’ Kramer said.

  ‘Where are you heading?’ Mack asked.

  ‘Scarrett and I will be looking for Emily DeForrest and Julie Zabel. They went missing around the time of the attack on Kenyon.’

  ‘Do you think they knew about it?’ Pruitt asked.

  ‘Most likely they got some kind of psychic links when the attack happened that made them panic and run.’

  ‘Emily’s a nice kid,’ Buhl said. ‘I hope nothing has happened to her.’

  ‘Me too,’ Kramer said. ‘Now we’ve got these statements out of the way we can head back to our motel. Ben and I will stay over until General Dawson can provide us with up to date information. You guys can book out if you can find an available flight today.’

  An FBI agent from the local office waited downstairs for them. He’d driven them over in an unmarked SUV from the motel and managed to avoid the media camp at the front of the police station. All the channels were still carried video of the attack, although most had now agreed to the request to pixellate Kramer and Ben’s faces. That helped a little, but the internet was alive with unedited footage and Kramer had already become the Number One search on YouTube.

  Ben said nothing on the journey back to the motel. He had tracked down another identity of one of the attackers and again it showed a man who should not have been there. This time a Libyan who, according to Ben’s data, died at the hands of French Special Forces at the fall of Gaddafi’s regime. It seemed pretty clear to Ben that these people were dead come back to life. There was no way to hack that many databases in different countries and fabricate dental and DNA records. And anyway, why do it? If you have terrorist cells who have infiltrated the USA, why not just carry out attacks? There should be no need to cover up identities.

  Dawson agreed, and that’s what disappointed Ben now. Instead of being in the lead to track down the source of these resurrected killers Ben felt side-lined by a hunt for a little girl he barely knew. A task more suited to police and FBI agents who were used to searching for missing persons. They arrived at the motel and Ben headed straight to his room and fired up his laptop. He did quick searches for Emily DeForrest and Julie Zabel. Nothing came up for Emily and Ben figured she was too young to have much of a web presence.

  Julie Zabel was a different matter. Ben found her on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. She had identities in half a dozen psychic interest forums as well as featuring on newsfeeds for psychic events where she appeared as a panellist. Ben checked her current status and found her last posts had been five months ago when she announced she would be taking part in a ‘psychic retreat’ and would be out of contact for the foreseeable future. Ben read the replies. Most came from friends who wished her luck. Some asked for the location of the retreat and if they could join her. Julie had not replied to those posts.

  Ben started with Facebook and went through her timeline. He looked for the names of people who responded regularly to Julie’s posts. Almost exclusively people posted using pseudonyms. Misty6, Eleanor Rigby, TFC99 and PsyBoy. Ben noted them all down. For the less well-known websites and forums he ran a hosting search and added this information to the names. He put everything on an email to Dawson and copied Kramer in. Either the Department of Homeland Security or the FBI would have to put requests in to find out the real identities of Julie’s regular correspondents.

  Once those names were known better research could be undertaken to find if any were proper friends of the psychic and not just web messengers. If Julie had gone on the run after the attack on Kenyon then Ben knew for sure that at some point she would need help. The obvious people to turn to would be friends. Whether real or online. Ben sent the email and then used his access code to enter a Federal website and placed a request to monitor any posts by the names he had compiled. He also added Julie’s online ID that always seemed to be Julie.Zabel, she could have others that Ben didn’t know about. He had a good place to start because Julie may not understand how easy it was to be tracked online.

  With that finished he sat back and stared at the laptop screen. He could just make out his own reflection. He hoped he didn’t actually look as tired as that. His email software flashed a reply up from Kramer that acknowledged his earlier message. She also added that Mack, Pruitt and Buhl couldn’t get a flight out until the morning so they would be able to have a final briefing at breakfast.

  Ben turned the laptop off. He freshened up in the bathroom and tried the television but the thirty-five channels on offer had nothing worth watching. He lay on his bed and thought about calling Chrissie but didn’t want to worry her. He thought about going to bed, but just lately the nightmare came every time he fell asleep. And anyway, it wasn’t that late. He opened the blinds on the single window into his room. A block of restaurants and bar lay across a parking lot and three lane road. Kramer occupied the next room and Ben considered inviting her over the road for a drink. He decided against it. Another knock back wouldn’t help their working relationship. If they were going on the road together to search for Emily he’d need at least a semblance of friendship between them. Even if it was professional. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t drink alone.

  ***

  Somehow Ben found a vacant stool at the bar and caught the barman’s eye with a twenty-dollar bill. It got him prompt service and a beer. Over the next thirty minutes he added another four that smoothed the corners off the edgy feeling that stalked his nerves. He hadn’t admitted to himself, let alone anyone else, but the idea that people could be resurrected scared the shit out of him. At the moment it was jihadists, but who next? And where?

  He looked round the bar. Off in one corner a live band put their heart and soul into Country Rock as more customers piled in through the doors at front and rear of the building. Ben rested his elbows on polished wood and stared at the surface of his beer as if it had some kind of psychic ability to divine the future from the bubbles that rose from the bottom of his glass.

  The press of bodies around him got tighter, and the noise level rose but somehow the redhead found a vacant stool next to Ben. He only knew she was there when she nudged him with an elbow and said, ‘Do I know you from somewhere?’

  Resurrected killers still filled his head. The beers he had already downed were doing a decent job of erasing the memory of bullets and blood so the pretty (he blinked and upgraded her to beautiful) face accompanied by a deep, sultry voice took him by surprise.

  ‘I think I’d remember you if I did.’ He gave her his best smile and felt a jolt of electric as she leant close and whispered.

  ‘I promise that you’d never forget me if we spent some time alone together.’

  ‘Is that an invitation?’ Ben asked, breathless as the scent she wore filled his lungs.

  ‘Buy me a drink and it might be.’ She raised an empty glass. ‘Tequila.’

  Ben paid with shaking hands as the girl said, ‘I do know you. You’ve got a sister, right?’

  ‘Right.’ He grinned, finished his fifth beer, and ordered tequila to go along with the redhead.

  ‘Thought so.’ She edged closer, a soft breast brushing against his arm. ‘I know her.’

  ‘Chrissie?’

  ‘Yeah, Chrissie,’ said with a smile to break a man’s heart. So full of untold promises that Ben wished he hadn’t had so many beers.

  ‘You know her through college?’

  ‘Yeah, but hey, let’s not talk about her. Let’s talk about you. Are you staying nearby?’

  ‘In the motel over the road.’

  She came closer, her lips brushed his ear and warm breath tickled his neck. ‘When I saw you sitting here I thought you looked lonely and in need of some female company. Am I right?’

  Ben thought about Kramer. Probably in her room reloading her Sig or sharpening a knife; Kramer with her blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes and hard as iron muscles. To be honest he liked her more than he would admit to anyone, especially the Army Captain. But she was out of sight and almost out of mind as the redh
ead sat back and took a breath deep enough to strain the buttons on her blouse.

  ‘So, are you in need of female company?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Not worried that he didn’t know her name as they slid from their barstools and headed for the door. Through his beer haze and the packed bodies of drinkers and dancers Ben didn’t see Pruitt and Mack follow his progress from the booth they occupied. Both men laughed into their beers at the look on Ben’s face.

  Outside, the cooler air almost brought Ben to his senses. What exactly was he doing? He’d started off trying to forget the gunfight with beer. Did he really expect sex would burn away the remaining memory?

  The girl didn’t seem to mind. She pulled him across the road. She told him how good looking he was. How much she had admired him whenever she had seen him with Chrissie. Ben didn’t think to ask when she had seen him with his sister because right then, in the middle of the motel parking lot, she turned into his arms and gave him the longest, deepest kiss he had ever got from a girl.

  When she finally broke away Ben was as close to losing consciousness as he had ever been. He sucked in air and felt the darkness recede. Replaced by something else. Lust. The redhead stepped back with a smile. Her lithe body moved from side to side. She pulled him in like a fish on a lure.

  ‘Which room?’ she asked.

  ‘Thirty-five.’

  She reached out, grabbed his shirt with one hand and put the other somewhere that made him gasp. ‘Think you can last that long?’

  They ran the rest of the way. The girl giggled and Ben panted. At the door to his room he fumbled with the key card as she wrapped herself around him. Her hands stroked his stomach and chest as she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his denims. Her touch burned hot on his flesh. She made a sound like a long, low growl behind him as Ben opened the door and propelled him into the room. The door closed behind them and she came towards him in the dark. Ben had one of those inane thoughts that he ought to close the curtains as someone might look in and see what was happening. He stood by the bed and watched the redhead’s silhouette advance. His legs trembled. Ben sat down and reached out to the bedside light switch.

  The girl’s eyes glistened in the lamp light. Ben, still most of the way drunk on alcohol and the rest of the way on desire, noticed something wrong. Hadn’t her eyes been blue before? Not the green they were now and definitely not the yellow they morphed into. But forget her eyes because she’s unbuttoning her blouse and her breasts seem to be getting bigger. Big enough to reach out to him. They grew out of her ribcage and unfolded at the elbow with claw-tipped fingers grabbing for his face. Adrenaline burned through the booze in his bloodstream as she smiled. Her ruby lips folded back to reveal elongated fangs laced with saliva.

  Ben launched himself left. The narrow bedside table mashed into his chest as the fixed lamp shattered with a bang. She’d missed him with her lunge and Ben had a gap to dive for. He aimed for the door but the girl, the thing, beat him. She leapt back and cut off his route. Ben looked round. The double bed dominated most of the room, with a single armchair beside it and a low, wall mounted countertop that held a flat screen television, kettle and all the makings for instant coffee. Ben went back. He bounded over the mattress and put the bed between him and the creature. He grabbed a pillow and swung it hard into the girl/thing as she followed him. Claws and teeth sank into the material. They fought a brief, furious tug of war and then the pillow disappeared from Ben’s grasp. The girl flung it across the room as she opened her mouth and let out a scream that froze his blood. Four arms came at him again; Ben blocked two as he kicked hard at her legs and saw her stagger. He dodged again, saw the kettle, pulled it from its stand and threw it hard at the thing’s face. She caught it and hurled it back in one move. Ben ducked. He heard the wall mounted mirror behind him shatter. When he straightened she caught him, turned him and threw him across the room. He hit the armchair and the legs splintered as he tumbled to the floor. The thing howled again, jumped onto the bed and bounced towards him. Ben lay winded. His shoulder ached. He could only half turn as clawed hands closed around his throat.

  She leant in close and her breath seared his face. Those eyes he’d gazed into were now a hungry crimson and the lips he’d kissed were asphalt black. Drool spilled onto his face. Blood pounded in his head. She leant forward like she wanted to kiss him again but he knew those fangs wanted to taste his flesh. She had two hands around his throat, a third pinned his left arm down and the fourth tried to do the same to his right arm. Ben slapped her. He punched her, He bucked and kicked and did all he could to keep his arm free.

  Darkness touched the edge of his vision. He could feel his right arm going numb but, as he writhed, his hands touched the hard wood of a broken chair leg. He took it up without thought and drove the splintered end into the redhead’s side. She hissed. Her grip weakened for a moment, enough for Ben to get his knees between them and piston her off with a sharp kick of his legs. The girl/thing went over his head. Ben rolled, he reached his knees as she came back at him. Ben still held the chair leg and he lashed out. He gouged a wound in her lower right arm. She didn’t notice it. She stepped into the swing of his arm and caught him around the waist. Ben felt his body lifted and flung across the room again. He saw the bed beneath him and the ceiling above. He hit the door of a built in wardrobe and felt the wood give way before he hit the carpet. His lungs emptied. Ben’s whole body ached and the redhead’s smile as she stepped towards him told him all he needed to know as the sound of thunder filled the air.

  The gunshots that came next were loud in the compact room and plucked the girl/thing from her feet. The rounds threw her sideways across the bed to crumple against a wall. She lay for a moment, her face registered the numb shock of being shot before she pushed herself up on her right arms. Kramer stepped around the bed, Sig Sauer held in a two-handed grip. She gave the girl/thing enough time to look up and then shot her once between the crimson eyes.

  Ben let his head go back onto the carpet as he tried to work some feeling back into his throat. He could barely breathe and every muscle and joint hurt. Kramer came round to his side of the bed.

  ‘Not sure I think much of your choice in women,’ she said. She reached down to pull him up.

  Ben looked at the body. The arms that grew out of the chest ended with long, brown talons. He felt bile rise in his throat and a moment later stumbled into the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. When he came back out Pruitt and Mack were in the room.

  ‘Is that the chick you pulled in the bar?’ Pruitt asked.

  Ben nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘Not so hot now.’ Mack looked around the room. ‘Have some kind of disagreement did you? Maybe to do with the number of arms she’s got?’

  Kramer gave him a look that shut the Corporal up before she said to Ben, ‘Did you pick her up or did she pick you?’

  ‘She picked me.’ Ben massaged his throat. ‘Said she knew me.’

  ‘Did you know her?’

  ‘No, but she knew my sister’s name.’ Ben frowned. ‘Or at least I think she did. I can’t remember now if I said Chrissie’s name first or she did.’

  ‘She’s a succubus,’ Kramer said. ‘She chose a form that would attract you and get close enough to kill you.’

  ‘So how did she know I was here?’

  ‘I guess the gun fight earlier might have alerted her.’ Kramer bit her lower lip in thought. Her teeth were white and even, unlike the thing that lay at her feet. ‘We need to let Dawson know. Mack, can you get onto that? Then we move out,’ Kramer added, her manner official as she gave orders to the men in the room. ‘Pack your bags. See if you can track down Buhl. When you speak to Dawson find out if there’s a safehouse we can use.’

  Pruitt and Mack hustled out. Kramer gave Ben the kind of look a mother gives a son when he brings home a girl she doesn’t like. ‘You too,’ she said. ‘See you out front in five.’

  Ben nodded. ‘I’
m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have fallen for her lines.’

  She shrugged. ‘She was a demon. She would have found a way to lure you in. But it does show the kind of girls you go for.’

  Kramer walked out. Ben looked at the carnage of the room. He picked his way around the destruction and avoided looking at yet another dead body. Today hadn’t gone well. He collected his few belongings, turned off the light and stepped out of the room. The door wouldn’t close. Kramer had smashed her way in while he’d been fighting the succubus and the lock was a broken mess. The others waited in the parking lot. Plumes of exhaust wreathed up from the Chevy Suburbans. Buhl, Mack and Pruitt were already sitting in one. Mack had the window down and grinned at Ben. ‘Captain Kramer’s driving the other vehicle. We think she needs company.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Ben glanced back at the bright headlights.

  ‘Think nothing of it. The mood she’s in you’ll wish you were still stuck in your room with old four-arms.’

  Ben sighed and walked to the other Suburban. He put his bag on the middle seat then got in alongside Kramer. She put the vehicle in gear and followed the other Suburban out onto the street. Three government sedans pulled in as they left.

  ‘Clean up team,’ she said as Ben looked at them.

  ‘Where are we heading?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Safehouse,’ Kramer said.

  ‘Is it far?’

  ‘No.’

  Ben sighed again, He looked out of his window at the passing buildings. He could feel her anger like he was in front of an open fire. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about what happened. But she looked human.’

  ‘You’ve got some standards then.’ Kramer snapped him a sharp glance.

  ‘Well…she did.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have been in the bar,’ she said.

  ‘Pruitt and Mack were.’

  ‘Yes, together, covering each other. You were alone, an easy target. They sent me a text that you were drunk and leaving with a young woman.’