by R L Delaney
“But he… he is dangerous,” Father Gálvez said in a mournful voice. “He will surely get me.”
“No, he won’t,” the monk answered. “Why would he attack you? You have nothing that he needs. In fact, he’ll try to stay away from you as much as he can.” He thought for a moment, and turned back to Justin and Amy, his face carrying a contrite look. "It’s my fault. I let him out of my sight and I have to take full responsibility for this. But…" he added on a cheerful note, "I do believe he is harmless, at this stage, at least for the moment." He tightened the blue belt around his waist and smiled. "At least the most important part of our mission has not suffered."
Justin did not understand. "What do you mean? Guarding Rodeo was the mission."
"I disagree," Brother Perpetiël said while he placed his hand on Justin's shoulder. "The most important mission is to get you and Amy to the monastery."
Justin exchanged glances with Amy. "What are you talking about? I thought you said you thought it was nice for us to see the monastery."
Brother Perpetiël shook his head. "I never said that." He now placed his other hand on Amy's shoulder as well. "I said, I believed your coming to the monastery was what was supposed to happen. I never said you were invited for nothing but a nice excursion in the mountains."
Justin felt dizzy. "But… what…, I mean… why?"
Brother Perpetiël did not answer the question. Instead he said, "I suggest we go. We have a long walk ahead of us. And as far as Rodeo is concerned, don't worry about him. I believe he won't get very far. He has no idea where he is, and this part of the mountains is not what you call very friendly terrain."
“So… I go too?” Father Gálvez still didn’t seem too confident but when the monk gave him a short nod he sighed. “All right then, I’ll be seeing you soon… I hope.” He picked up his shoulder bag, swung it around his shoulder and while he bit his lower lip he gave a last nod in greeting, and walked off.
The three of them stared after him for some time until he disappeared behind some fir trees near a bend in the road.
"Well…," Brother Perpetiël spoke in a cheerful tone when he was gone, "… let’s go."
"But you don't even wear shoes," Justin objected. "How can you walk so long on bare feet?"
"Don't you worry about me," Brother Perpetiël replied. "I know this area like the back of my hand and I haven't worn shoes for years now." Then his eyes sparkled and he asked, "How about you, young Justin and Amy? Are you two up to it?"
"Of course," Justin shot back, trying not to show that he was not looking forward to the long journey ahead. "I am the quarterback of the Dewsbury Grasshoppers, and Amy is…" He wanted to say Amy was as perky as girls like Sandra Appleby and Lilly Witherspoon, the agile cheerleaders with their plastic smiles, but he realized he actually didn't know much about Amy's physical condition and even making a comparison with these shallow dancing girls was an insult. Thus he swallowed his words and mumbled something unintelligible.
But Amy did not seem to have noticed, or did not take offense, and she just smiled. "I am all right, Mr. Perpetiël. Let's go."
Justin nodded. "I guess we will just have to take your word for it Brother Perpetiël. You lead the way, and we will follow.”
"Wisely spoken, young Justin," Brother Perpetiël said with a gentle smile. "Let us not waste another minute."
Chapter Four
After Harrison had seen the Ford F150 leave, he had gone over to the police station to inform Captain Devonshire that Alfred Rodeo had successfully been shipped off to the monastery of the monks of The Guardians of the Sacred Tome. At first Devonshire had been doubtful if it was such a good idea to let Rodeo go off to the monastery, but after hearing what had happened, and when he saw the broken cell with his own eyes, his face had paled and he heartily agreed that such a devilish man was better off in the hands of a mighty warrior monk.
The entire police force, which after the death of Brian Ruiz consisted of only six men, was on full alert. Captain Devonshire was desperate to make progress on the mysterious case, and the recent killings in the town where nothing had ever happened before filled everyone with anger and horror. But nobody had a clue as to what was going on, and in his desperation the Captain had even contacted the police force of Bakersville and had asked for additional help.
For Harrison it was time to pay Richard Sternfoot a visit.
Poppy Alberts found the address for him and minutes later the detective was out on the street consulting the sticky note she had handed him. 34 Cloverdale Ave.
He knew where that was. That was right on the other side of Dewsbury, but since the town was so small, it wouldn't take him more than a few minutes to get there. He walked over to his squad car and tried to prepare himself mentally for another visit with the strange man he had fined earlier. Meeting Sternfoot was not a pleasant prospect, but it had to be done.
As he stuck the key in the door of his car, something caught his ear. Someone was yelling some sort of slogan, loud and raw, but not very clear. He looked up and noticed a figure, a man, approaching him. He was still some fifty yards away and was yelling at the top of his lungs, while wildly waving his fist in the air. With his other hand he carried a sign that he had nailed on what appeared to be a broomstick. Harrison narrowed his eyes and tried to see if he could read what the sign said, but since he was nearsighted and the man was still too far away, he couldn't read it yet.
After all the strange things the detective had seen recently, an uncomfortable feeling crept over him, and he had to resist the urge to just jump in his car and take off. He had seen enough weirdoes to last him a lifetime. Still he was curious, and decided to push his anxieties to the fringes of his consciousness.
The man was now close enough so Harrison could read the sign. As he studied the words he felt a shiver run up his spine.
A shadow has come over our children.
Prepare for the one who is coming.
Wasn't that somewhat similar to the Latin phrase that had been planted with a dagger on his brother's door? What was it again Justin had said? Harrison remembered. He’s coming. The one whose shoes I am not worthy to bear shall baptize you all with sulphur and brimstone." And this strange man was now telling him to prepare for the one who was coming?
This man knew more. Maybe he should arrest him so he could properly question him. But he needed to be careful. Harrison felt to see if he had his handcuffs ready. They were in place.
The person was really close now, and Harry wrinkled his nose as the strong scent of a sickening, sweet incense entered his nostrils. What a strange character it was. He was dressed in a long white robe that looked more like the nightgown of his brother's wife, and the thought occurred that the man had escaped from an insane asylum. There was one in Bakersville, but that was quite a ways off. While he was nearing Harrison with flashing, dark eyes, he was still shouting while moving his head in a wild fashion. His long, greasy and unkempt black hair swung around in all directions, and he was sporting a scraggly black beard that was in desperate need of a trim.
He kept on shouting in a guttural, rambling voice.
"The dark one is coming. Save your children for they will be the first ones to go."
Harrison held up his hand in an attempt to stop him, but the weirdo just kept on walking, almost as if he wasn't even consciously seeing Harrison. He stared with glazed eyes at the detective and passed him by while yelling the same slogan.
"The dark one is coming. Save your children for they will be the first ones to go."
"Hey," Harrison shouted. "Stop! Are you on drugs?"
Now there was a reaction.
The man turned and walked straight up to Harrison. His nose almost touched Harrison's face and a sickening feeling coursed through the detective's body.
"No drugs… No drugs…," the man hissed as he lifted his finger and swung it around in Harrison's face. "It's all about the children. The dark one is coming. I tell you, soon there will be no hiding place."
The man pushed Harrison out of the way and kept on walking, while waving his placard around and shouting his weird warnings. Harrison licked his lips and stared wide-eyed after the man who soon disappeared out of sight, while his strange ramblings could still be heard.
At last all was quiet again. Harrison let out a deep sigh and opened his car door. Maybe it was all a strange coincidence. For a moment, the detective tried to convince himself that all was normal and Dewsbury was still just as peaceful as it had always been, but when he started his car he knew good and well, it was not a coincidence and all was not as it always had been.
Something dark and sinister was hanging over their beloved town.
Minutes later he stopped in front of the Sternfoot residence at 34 Cloverdale Ave. Harrison knew the neighborhood fairly well. When he was a teenager he had been delivering the Dewsbury Clarion there in an effort to earn enough money to buy himself a baseball bat. Not much had changed since then.
Simple box-shaped houses with red bricks, and the front door always right in the center. Each house had a window on either side of the door, and a small round window near the roof, indicating the house had an attic as well. The gardens were all identical as well, although most were in better shape than Sternfoot’s. His lawn was badly in need of some mowing as weeds sprung up everywhere and the roses on a rosebush that was planted against the wall on the side were all wilted and brown.
Sternfoot clearly did not feel the need to spend too much time on appearances. After Harrison stopped the car and climbed out he stared at the house for a moment. All seemed calm in the area and nothing suggested a sinister plot that involved Shadow Walkers and the future of the youth of Dewsbury. Would he just walk up and ring the bell?
Harrison scolded himself. He wasn't afraid of a mere chemistry teacher, was he? He walked up the garden path that led to the front door and studied the name plate on the side, right above a small electric bell. Nothing unusual. It just stated his name. R.T. Sternfoot.
He licked his lips, let out a deep sigh and pushed the button.
The sound of the doorbell was shrill and harsh and it shook Harrison up. Just the type of sound he should have expected.
Nothing happened.
Harrison pricked up his ears. Did he hear any sound?
Nothing.
His fingers pushed the bell again. This time he kept them pressed on the bell, producing a long, hard wail that was powerful enough to wake up the dead.
Still nobody opened.
Sternfoot was not at home. Actually, he had not expected anything else. Almost certainly Sternfoot had been involved in the shoot-out and he was now in hiding. Still he had no proof of anything illegal the man had done. The only person that he had been able to truly pin down was Alfred Rodeo, but as far as Sternfoot was concerned he had nothing.
According to Justin and Amy, he was even planning a meeting on Monday night. Could it be that the shoot-out had messed up their plans?
As Harrison stood there thinking, on the front porch, he knew what he had to do. He would sneak around to the back of the house where he was out of sight and he would break into the house. He would be quick and inconspicuous.
He chuckled as he thought of his time at the academy. Breaking a lock, and entering a house unauthorized had surely not been part of the stuff they taught there, but he had learned it nevertheless from his friend Joe Bullocks, a retired detective who wasn't taking the rules too seriously.
Thus Harrison moved away from the front, looked around to see if the coast was clear, and snuck to the back. The back garden, not more than 10 feet by 10, was even messier than the garden up front. A broken plastic garden chair lay upside down in the weeds, three old car tires were stashed against the wall, and a smelly compost heap was piled up against the hedge that separated Sternfoot's plot from his neighbor's.
In one quick look Harrison found what he was looking for. There was the back door. A rough wooden construction with peeling green paint and an enormous lock. Harrison chuckled. Now he could finally put his knowledge to good use, and after he had pulled out a paperclip from his wallet he set out to work to open the lock.
It wasn't as easy as he had thought, but after several unsuccessful attempts the lock clicked open. Harrison hesitated. What he was about to do was highly illegal. But the enemy was ruthless and special measures were required. He bit his lower lip and pushed the door open. It let out a loud creak and for a moment Harrison stiffened. What if somebody was home after all?
He waited with bated breath, but when no other sound was heard he snuck in and closed the door behind him. He stood in what appeared to be a pantry. At first sight there was nothing unusual. A rusty bicycle was standing against the wall and two plastic and bulging garbage bags were standing near the door. It would be interesting to go through them, but right now that was out of the question. The door to the kitchen stood open a crack and Harrison pushed it fully open.
Again, all appeared to be normal, other than the kitchen being cluttered and several unwashed dishes piled up in the sink. But nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. A stove, a fridge… a kitchen cupboard.
Carefully Harrison opened the door to the hallway.
It was brightly lit, because the door to the living room was open and sunlight was streaming in. That's when he spotted the basement door. It appeared to be locked.
Harrison placed his hand on the doorknob and shook it. Locked indeed. It was time again for his paperclip skills. Harrison narrowed his eyes as he set out to work in his efforts to pick the second lock. This one was easier than the first one and it almost instantly clicked open.
Another creak, and Harrison listened with bated breath.
Nothing unusual was heard.
His hand searched for the light switch and as soon as he had found it he turned it and the place was brightly lit. Harrison was standing on top of a stony staircase that led down to a cellar, somewhat similar to the one he had investigated only days earlier when he had been called to check out his brother's basement.
He slowly descended, while he kept his ears open for any unusual sound. After all, he had no way of knowing when Sternfoot would come home.
The basement was a virtual laboratory. The walls of the windowless place were lined with long tables that were covered with chemical supplies. Harrison spotted a great array of distillation glassware, lab supplies, rubber tubing and a few burners. He wrinkled his nose as a pungent, sour scent irritated his nostrils.
Finding a private laboratory in the house of a chemistry teacher was not unusual in itself, still the whole place was drenched in a spooky atmosphere, and Harrison noticed his heart was pounding a little faster.
It was then that his eyes fell on a few small vials and a little burner, very similar to the one he had found in his brother's house. The burner was placed right under a vial that was held in position with a clamp and contained a red liquid.
As Harrison stared at the thing a strange urge took possession of him to see what would happen if he would activate the burner and heat up the red liquid.
What a stupid thought. Of course that vial had nothing to do with the strange happenings in Dewsbury, and he needed to use his time better.
Harrison pushed the thought out of his mind and decided there was nothing more for him to do down there in the basement. He walked over to the staircase again, but just as he was about to ascend he stopped and turned his head to look at that little burner again. The urge to light that burner and heat up that red little substance was still so strong. After all… he had found the exact same materials down in
his brother's basement and Justin had sworn up and down he had not put that stuff there.
"Call me a fool," Harrison whispered to himself, "…but I am going to just light that thing and see if something happens."
He turned around and walked back. The little burner and the clamp with the red chemical fascinated him for a reason he could not explain. He spotted a box of matches nearby and took out a match. Then he turned the knob of the burner releasing some of the gas. It hissed and he struck the match. Instantly a flame emerged and began to heat up the red stuff in the little vial.
At first nothing happened, but soon the red liquid began to simmer and smoke, causing a light, reddish vapor to twirl up that began to spread throughout the basement. Instantly, Harrison detected a foul smell of sulphur.
The whole thing stung too, and Harrison's eyes began to tear.
Harrison chided himself. He had made a stupid mistake and should have kept his fingers away from that burner. While tears were now streaming down his face his hands sought for the burner again so he could turn the thing off, but he couldn't quite find it. The smoke was so pungent and strong that he began to cough.
Where was that burner?
At last he found it, but when his fingers touched the knob, he realized to his horror he could barely move them. His head felt light too, and it was almost as if he no longer felt his own weight. He gritted his teeth and forced his finger to obey his will. He had to turn off that stupid burner.
It worked.
The flame went out.
But the effort was too much for him and his legs caved in and he crashed to the floor of the basement.
There he lay, unable to move his limbs, sprawled out on the floor of Sternfoot's private lab, and sick as a dog.
Well done, Harrison.
