In the Still of the Night--The Supernaturals II

by David L. Golemon

  Suddenly, Gabriel released his hand from his own throat that was foolishly trying to hold off the choking fingers of the entity, and he felt himself falling. He hit so hard that he went out like a light. Damian was the first to him just as the overhead fluorescents flared to life, blinking on and off, and then settling into their steady, cold light.

  John was finally able to sit up and stumble from the bed. He actually kicked Jennifer as he tried to find her. She was half under the bed.

  “Ow,” she said and then wiggled out of the tight space. “Go check George and Gabe!” she screamed.

  “George is dead,” Damian answered solemnly as he kneeled next to Cordero’s broken body. Jackson flicked blood away that fell into his eyes from the gash on his forehead. “Are you okay, old-timer?” Jackson asked Harvey, who was sitting with his legs splayed against the wall.

  His eyes moved first and then his head. Leach had several cuts on his face from flying glass and a rather good-sized bump on his head from his collision with the formidable wall.

  “This town has seriously gone downhill,” Harvey said as he stared at the large black man leaning over him.

  John finally reached Gabriel, who was being held by Julie. She brushed some of his brown hair out of his eyes and then retrieved his glasses and slid them on his face. Lonetree stopped cold and stared down at his friend. Then his heart started beating once again as Gabriel moaned and then opened his eyes.

  “Hey, we saw the lights come on and thought you might … want … some … coffee,” the female voice said from the stairwell’s opening as the newcomers saw the state of everyone. Bob and Linda stopped when they saw the devastation on the second floor, and then Linda dropped the tray of coffee and cups. They smashed on the floor at her feet.

  Their eyes moved to Damian, Julie, and John as they assisted a bruised Gabriel to his shaky feet. They heard Jennifer crying as she sat beside the crumpled body of George Cordero. She had a hand on his head and was trying in vain to wipe some of the blood away. Leonard was standing in shock by his computers and monitors. He angrily turned and pushed two of his laptops from the table and then kicked at them.

  “A lot of good this shit is against that!” he said, pointing at the top of the thirteen-foot-high ceiling.

  Damian, Julie, and John got Gabriel to the chair. He sat as they tried to get a cut on the back of his head to stop bleeding. Jennifer found a dust cover and covered George’s body with it. The entire time, Gabriel’s eyes never left the scene.

  “We can’t fight this,” he said, watching Jennifer wipe her eyes as she stared down at George.

  John dabbed a washcloth at the six-inch-long gash in his head. “Yes, we can,” he said, tossing the cloth down onto the floor. “I have to go back in.”

  Jennifer looked up. “Stupid red man.”

  They all turned to see her standing in a slouched position while eyeing George’s still form at her feet. Then her head, barely inches from her chest, turned and faced Lonetree. By the stairwell, Bob and Linda wanted to turn and run but were mesmerized by what amounted to one wicked acid trip.

  “I’ve been here watching you idiots fumble around with something that you have never encountered, and your deal here is not only going to get yourselves killed but Jenny also.” She smiled and then moved a few steps closer to George’s body. She looked down. “Ritchie Valens here was right. You’re being led down the garden path, and he knew—or had a pretty good guess—that was the way of things. They wanted the medicine man here to keep dreaming, to witness what was done to her. And let me tell you something, guys and dolls—she has help, a lot of it. Help the likes of which you can never begin to imagine. They are strong; they were created to be strong. And now she is to the point that she can no longer control them.” Jennifer smiled—or Bobby Lee McKinnon did. “They are out again, just like they were out that night, and we all know what happened then, don’t we? You, Injun Joe, will get Jenny killed.” Bobby Lee in the guise of Jennifer Tilden looked around at everyone in the room one at a time. “Only one of them is like me. Power from them feed her. They also warp her. She sees things they want her to see, believes things they want her to believe. Misreads intentions of love and hate.”

  Jennifer collapsed into a ball on the floor. “Ow,” she said again as she sat up rubbing her head.

  John was there in a flash. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, this time, I was aware of everything he said. Bobbly Lee is terrified of what we’re facing here.”

  “We got that point,” Julie said, relieving Lonetree of Jennifer and leading her to the chair beside Gabriel. “Look, we’ve lost two friends here, but if you guys want to stay, I’m with you,” the former reporter said as she sat in between Jenny and Gabe and tried to attend them both.

  “You guys are out of your minds,” Bob said from the doorway of the stairwell.

  “We don’t run,” John said, pacing. “I know one thing here. We have a chance to find out what started all of this and what actually happened in 1962. All I need is a few minutes back inside. This thing thinks it can kill us and that we’ll just accept that and run.”

  “We don’t have George anymore,” Jennifer said with tears in her eyes. “And Bobby Lee won’t help.”

  “Something got mad that George and I brought John out of his dreamwalk, that was for sure. But that same presence was angered that something else took things too far in its attack.” Gabe looked over at John. “What lead did you learn from the dream that you say can give us an advantage?”

  John walked over and gently lifted the covered body of George Cordero into his arms and faced Kennedy. “Julie, you spent three years at your network’s Berlin bureau, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” she answered, looking not at John but the small body of their friend.

  “You can read German?”

  “A little, not much.”

  “I can read and speak it. Don’t like to, but my mama was a war bride from Germany. She grew up in Nuremberg.”

  They all turned and looked at Harvey Leach.

  “Does this have anything to do with that creepy Dr. Fromm? The man was a nut, always coming in before my ma died, thinking that they could be friends because they were both refugees out of Germany, but she never liked him. The man was bad, and she knew it from the get-go.”

  “I need to go back in and get something,” John said. “It may be there, it may not be.”

  “Without George and his ability, we won’t know what you find, and you can’t read German. You can’t take Harvey with you.” All eyes turned to Gabriel, who dashed a few hopes with his obvious observation.

  “That won’t be a problem. In my dreamwalk, those two crazy kids found something in Dean’s father’s locked office. It was a journal of that man Harvey just mentioned, Dr. Jürgen Fromm. He and the founders of this town brought a souvenir back from the war; that’s the key here.”

  Gabriel moved his head too fast and winced at the sharp stab of pain. He grimaced and looked over at Leonard, who was silently picking up the remains of two laptops.

  “Is there any chance you can get those computers connected so you can get some dirt on someone?”

  Leonard stopped what he was doing and threw the cover of one of the destroyed laptops against the wall.

  “One of the feds’ satellite phones, but not tonight. There’s way too much electricity in the air. It would take forever to get online.”

  “Gabe, the only way we can get the information you need is in that damn black journal. If I go back in, I’ll know where to find it. Gloria and Dean would never take it back to his house; they will stash it someplace. I can find that place if it still exists. I have to go back and find out what they did with it. It’s the only way.”

  Gabriel watched John move George’s body to the bed, and Lonetree laid him down, still covered in the dustcloth. He placed a hand over his chest and closed his eyes as he prayed for his ancestors to watch over his friend.

  “Okay, if everyone is agreed.”
r />   “Yeah, for George,” Leonard said as he tossed the remains of one of the laptops into a garbage can.

  “Whatever it is, we can’t let it do this to anyone,” Julie said, looking at Jennifer, who smiled and nodded.

  “All right. Mr. Leach, can we ask you to brave a little bit more of this madness until John can find what he is looking for?”

  “I can’t say I never felt like runnin’ from a fight more than this one, but I can see you’re hurting for your friend here. We lost a lot of good folks back in ’62; maybe I owe them too, so running’s not an option.” Harvey looked over at Bob and Linda. “You two should skedaddle.”

  Bob opened his mouth to say something but closed it when Linda cut him off. “We have to stay and get what that damn company owes us, or we’ll spend the rest of our lives broke and looking for work suitable for two old and broken-down hippies. Hell, we’re not even hippies; I grew up in an affluent section of Marin County, and Bob is from Pasadena, for God’s sake.”

  “Mrs. Culbertson, I will guarantee you receive what your contract calls for. You have my word. If they don’t, I’ll pay you and then take it out of someone’s ass later,” Gabriel said with the hint of a smile.

  Linda looked at Bob and then over at Harvey Leach. She tried to smile, but her shaking legs said that would be a failure for the circumstance they faced.

  “Harvey’s our friend, just like Mr. Cordero was yours. Maybe we’ll stay and help our friend,” Bob said, wrapping an arm around Linda’s shoulders. “Fuck it. We went through a rougher time throughout the sixties and the seventies. We faced down the Reagan years and trickle-down economics, and we still survived it all, just to meet each other through a shitty job offer to watch over this town. Wouldn’t say much for us if the very first time Moreno needed us, we split. As much as we complained about it, it’s been our home too.”

  “All right, thank you,” Gabriel said, walking toward the door.

  “What’s first?” Damian asked, making sure his nine-millimeter was loaded and snapped into its holster. He winced as Julie applied a gauze bandage to his head. He looked comical as if he were wearing a small dairy girl’s hat.

  “We go down and warn the feds that all hell may break loose. And maybe it is time to get them and the president out of here.”

  “And you do remember that ghosts aren’t very susceptible to bullets, Serpico?” Leonard said, struggling to contain his laughter over the silly-looking bandage on Jackson’s head.

  “Yeah, well, like all of you scientific types, I plan to test that bullets-don’t-hurt-ghosts theory over and over until it does work.”

  “Well, it’s past twelve. It’s now Halloween,” Julie said.

  At that moment, just like the scene out of a very bad horror movie, the lightning lit up the room and the lights flickered. The thunder was distant but strong. The rain increased.

  “For people who claim that hauntings are few and far between and that most of the claims are hoaxes, you sure were wrong about a few things. Maybe you should stop chasing the supernatural,” Bob said as he and Linda started for the stairs.

  John looked from Jennifer to Gabriel.

  “We would, if only the damn things would stop chasing us.”

  18

  MORENO, CALIFORNIA

  OCTOBER 31, 2017

  Gabriel, Julie, John, Leonard, Jennifer, and Damian stood rooted as Lonetree said a prayer in his native tongue for his ancestors to guide the lost and tormented soul of George Cordero to a place where he could finally be happy. They all had their moments with the small clairvoyant through the years, but they all knew because of his strange ability, George was always mere inches away from suicide. He hated the fact that he could read people and their darkest thoughts. He not only lost faith in himself but ordinary people because of those thoughts. Now they hoped the man could find the peace in death that he could never begin to find in life.

  Bob, Linda, Casper Worthington, and even Peckerwood stood silently by the doorway leading downstairs. They saw the hurt as they said goodbye to Gabriel and the Group’s friend.

  Over the sounds of thunder and the flashes of bright lightning, Gabriel heard the sound that ended the small prayer for George. He went to the window that looked down onto Main Street and saw men running from their hiding places. The unmistakable sound of helicopter rotors overrode the power of the storm.

  Gabriel turned away from the window. “Leonard, is there anything on those worthless radios?”

  Sickles hurriedly moved away from the group to his makeshift desk and tried to listen to the walkie-talkie they had been issued. He listened and then looked at Kennedy, shaking his head. Damian listened too, but heard nothing but static. He tried to call out, only to be answered by return static.

  “This damn weather has screwed everything up. Even the satellite phone is out,” Damian said as he leaned over and saw that Leonard had also checked the computer systems. He looked up and shook his head again. “We have nothing.”

  Gabe turned away from the window. “Okay, Julie, come with me. We’ll find out what’s happening.” He had to speak loudly over the thumping of the rotors. It sounded as if the helicopter was coming straight down onto Main Street. “John, get ready. Jennifer, get our medical supplies organized. Prepare John’s kicker.” He turned back to Leonard and Damian. “This thing may think it’s in control, but I suspect that its partner in crime is not amiable to that fact. Whatever wants us here is in direct opposition to something else that enjoys killing.”

  “Great,” Damian said, wincing as thunder broke directly overhead.

  * * *

  Gabriel and Julie were met at the double doors of Newberry’s by the lead field agent in charge, Haskins. The FBI agent was out of breath and was soaked to the bone. He had to shout to be heard over the storm raging over their heads and the large military-type helicopter that was hidden above them in the raging winds and swirling black sky.

  “I’m ordering an evacuation for my people, the Secret Service, and the state authorities.” The heavy thumping of the helicopter was starting to make a decibel gain on the storm sweeping the Southland. The agent leaned in closer to Kennedy. “We were finally able to get through to Washington an hour ago, and our earlier request was officially granted by a federal judge. The Justice Department obtained a warrant returning the president’s care back into federal hands. Our dear First Lady can now go kiss another judge’s ass, but he’d better be higher in rank than the federal judge in Los Angeles.”

  “When are you moving the president out?” Julie asked, trying to shield her face from the windblown rain.

  “As I just told you, the warrant only made the move official; unofficially, we moved Hadley out of here an hour ago. He should be safe and under better medical care than he was here. His blood pressure was dropping dangerously low, and as you know, we are having trouble with communications.”

  Gabriel looked out at the men running down the sidewalks as they gathered on either side of Main Street. They were all watching the skies.

  “My team wants to stick it out. We have work to do here,” Gabriel replied. “I’ll ask the townspeople to leave with you, but we have a job to do—not only for the president but because we lost people.”

  “Brave, but foolish. Get your people together, Professor; we leave in ten. Your group and the townies will be the first lifted out. Now get them down here.”

  “Look, we need—” Julie began.

  “You need to get your people ready to move!” the agent shouted over the din. “The locals say this entire hillside could come down at any time. They heard reports of hills like these coming down in Chino and in Riverside. The whole damn state is being drowned. The water has no place to go!”

  Gabe turned to Julie and nodded that she should go inside and warn the others.

  “We’ll lose our one chance at getting to the bottom of this!” she shouted back angrily.

  “That’s an order, young lady. Get yourselves and those townspeople out of here!�
��

  Julie gave the agent a dirty look but turned and went back inside Newberry’s.

  As Gabriel was about to resume his protest against their leaving, several men—some FBI, some California Highway Patrol—ran into the main intersection of town from where they had been waiting on the sidewalks. One old-fashioned traffic signal hung suspended from thick cables centered in the roadway forty feet in the air. Several men tossed burning red flares into the road, where they were immediately swept up in the rush of water cascading down Main Street. They tried again, this time closer to the inundated sidewalks. Some stayed, and some were swept away. Soon they had both sidewalks bright red with burning flares.

  “How did you get through to the helicopter?” Gabriel asked, realizing what the federal authorities were attempting.

  “It was ordered in by the State boys earlier, just in case. Good thing, with every electronic piece of equipment being knocked out by this damn electrical storm. Our radios and satellite phones should not be affected this way. We have to assume they may be getting jammed, and that would mean an outside force at work. We can’t take the chance any longer; the president has to be moved!” the agent shouted.

  Kennedy ducked as a very distinctive pop sounded over the thunder. His eyes widened when he saw two men, one agent and one highway patrolman, shooting their pistols seemingly straight up into the air. Then Gabriel realized what they were doing. They were trying to shoot the cable that held the old traffic light in place over the intersection. Five bullets missed, the sixth struck the cable and produced the bright sparks of a ricochet. Both men took more careful aim and fired again. This time, the cable was hit dead center, and the traffic signal and its supporting cables crashed down into the street. Kennedy had to shake his head when the two gunmen high-fived each other and then ran for the sidewalk. Several more men came forward and started shining powerful lights into the air and waving them around in an arc.