Texas Strange

by West, Terry M.

  Dreg clutched himself for security.

  CHAPTER 33

  “Everything’s in the car and ready to go,” Tammy announced, perching in Luke’s lap.

  It was 9PM. Luke had slept most of the afternoon and he was feeling much better.

  “Then, we’re all set?”

  “Yep,” Tammy replied, yawning. She looked exhausted. She hadn’t slept much the night before and most of the day had been spent on her fretting over Luke and getting everything in order for their impromptu trip.

  “I’m driving,” Luke offered, hugging her.

  “No,” Tammy insisted. “You should just relax and enjoy the ride.”

  “I’ve been relaxing all day. I’m driving. You look ready to pass out. Besides, if it’s a strain, then I’ll wake you up after a hundred miles or so and let you take over.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Tammy kissed his forehead and then she stood up. “Let me just check the alarm one more time and make sure the timer on the lights is working. It's been forever since we've had a vacation.”

  “I’ll start the car,” Luke said, pulling himself out of the chair.

  ***

  “Shaw? Shaw, wake up,” Lorrie said, nudging his shoulder. “It’s nine o'clock. We better get going.”

  Shaw, in a deep slumber after marathon sex with Lorrie, lumbered awake.

  “Wha... huh?” he muttered, bolting up.

  “We fell asleep,” Lorrie informed him. “It’s nine. We better get out of bed and hit the road.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, sitting up on Lorrie’s bed. Her tiny room was dark. Moonlight lit a portion of the floor, where Shaw had exiled the array of stuffed animals that Lorrie slept with at night.

  “I packed a few munchies in the kitchen before I woke you up,” Lorrie said, caressing Shaw’s bare back. “I’m going to use the restroom, and then we can leave.”

  “Word,” Shaw replied, taking a deep breath and standing to stretch his scrawny frame.

  ***

  Dreg ran the plan through his head one more time. It was infallible, so he scoffed at the voice in his head. It had taken him quite a while to pull himself together after his nightmare. But now, a lesser but still great portion of Le Loup lit the sky. A little less than half a moon. But enough to still deny the man and free the wolf.

  He stood at the threshold of his den, poised with a set of car keys in his hand. It had taken him an hour to fish the proper set from the buried coffee can where he kept all of the car keys he had collected. But the aggravation had been worth it. Dreg closed his eyes and he raised his arms in the air toward Le Loup.

  “Hunter of hunters,” he said. “Lord above. Guide yo’ earthly cub this night. I take prey this night. I make yo’ feast soon, ’fore the season end. I do you proud, Le Loup.”

  Dreg howled, and then jogged toward the lot of cars near his den.

  CHAPTER 34

  Shaw cruised down Interstate 45 in his weathered Camaro.

  “Watch your speed,” Lorrie warned. “You know how bad the cops are around here.”

  “You don’t have to remind me or worry about it,” Shaw assured her. "I have a sixth sense for cops, babe. It works better than a radar detector."

  Lorrie settled back in her seat and she stared out at the thick darkness that blanketed the road. There was nothing but a wild jungle out there. The woods were black and they hid God knew what. Lorrie thought of being trapped in those dark woods and her shoulders trembled.

  She would never drive this stretch alone at night. She brought her gaze back into the car, afraid of glimpsing some monstrosity on the fringe of the wilderness. Lorrie was glad that she was with Shaw.

  “Where are we heading?” Lorrie asked, going through Shaw’s glove compartment for a decent CD to play. Music would take her mind off of the scary woods.

  Shaw shrugged. “Wherever we want. Where do you want to go?"

  "Austin," Lorrie confessed, and then she felt the need to clarify so her boyfriend wouldn't think she was just addressing him by his last name. "Austin, Texas. I have always wanted to go there. "

  "The live music capital of the world," Shaw said, with an approving nod.

  "We have to see some concerts," Lorrie said.

  "Then Austin it is. Great name for a town, too, right?" Shaw teased. "I have a cousin who is an Austinite. I am sure he can point us to all of the hot spots. It's only a three hour trip, at most. That's where we will grab a motel room tonight. We can't afford fancy. But it will still be kind of cool, right?”

  “Very romantic,” Lorrie agreed. She shoved a CD into Shaw’s player and she turned the volume up. She glanced out at the dark woods again and she tapped on the dashboard.

  Suddenly, the music stopped and she heard Shaw mutter, “Shit.”

  Lorrie quickly glanced at Shaw, who stared into his rearview mirror. She turned around, cringing at the bright headlights in the back window. A red and blue light sparked on the top of the car.

  “Don’t stare at him,” Shaw chastised her.

  Lorrie turned around. “Oh, shit, Shaw. Do you have your proof of insurance and everything?”

  “I’m not worried about that,” Shaw said, pulling over to the shoulder. “I’m worried about the half ounce of weed in my trunk.”

  “Shaw!” Lorrie exclaimed. “I told you not to bring any of that stuff.”

  “I forgot about it,” Shaw replied, putting the car into park.

  “Great,” Lorrie said, panic-stricken. “We’re going to jail.”

  “Just be cool,” Shaw advised, as the shadow of the officer loomed outside of Shaw’s window.

  The back of a hand rapped softly on the glass.

  “Oh, Christ,” Shaw muttered, rolling down the window. “What’s the problem, officer?”

  A hideous face emerged in the car. The man was old, with long silver hair that fell over the door. His eyes were dark and his mouth was absurdly large.

  “You got the problem, meat!” he exclaimed, grabbing Shaw by the throat and pulling his head out of the window.

  “Shaw!” Lorrie shrieked, clutching his shoulder and trying to pull him back away from the grotesque man.

  “Run, Lorrie!” Shaw shouted, his arms snaking out of the window to fend off the attack.

  Shaw’s body went limp.

  With tremendous effort, Lorrie attempted to pull him back inside. Her tug of war opponent let go, and Lorrie fell back across her door, Shaw’s weight driving the small of her back painfully into the door handle. Shaw’s head rested against her bosom.

  “Shaw?” Lorrie said fearfully, pushing him up. His throat had been torn open. His face was drained already and the red flooded over her. She could feel it now, on her blouse, her face, all over her. Sticky and warm. Shaw’s life drenched her.

  She screamed and quickly opened her door. Lorrie fell to the pavement. She shrieked again and her voice shook the night.

  Her eyes fixed on a pair of dusty boots inches from her face. She gazed up slowly at the blood-soaked face of Shaw’s killer. The tall, pale specter of death grinned at her. By the light of the car, he resembled a deranged circus clown. That wide smile. The vulture nose. He extended a hand to her.

  “Maybe Dreg have other plans for you, yeh-heh?” he said softly, a spark lighting his button eyes. “Maybe Le Loup send you to Dreg? You be louve, lil’ one?”

  Lorrie had no idea what the maniac was talking about, but she somehow understood what he meant. She shook her head vehemently, her sanity barely intact. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she continued to shake her head, at the killer, at fate, at God.

  “No,” she pleaded with the killer, and as his hands pulled her up and drew her into his arms, death was suddenly the second worst thing she feared.

  “You be Dreg’s louve,” he said tenderly, his mouth closing over the bottom half of her face. She tasted the blood on him. Shaw’s blood. His tongue snaked into her mouth and her body went limp. She almost fainted, her spirit cav
ing into the madness.

  The man's hands roughly probed her body.

  He broke away, his foul breath out of her mouth and now on her face. “You bear Dreg’s cubs,” he said, pulling her toward the police car. She fought against him and he slapped her and roughly pushed her to the ground.

  "You take it easy, petite," he said, grabbing Lorrie and hauling her to her feet again.

  “No!” Lorrie shouted, with a surge of resistance. She bucked out of his arms.

  The ugly old man scrambled for Lorrie. In her panic to flee the monster, Lorrie inadvertently struck him in the groin with her knee. The killer grunted in pain. He sucked in air and he crumbled to the ground.

  Lorrie ran toward the idling squad car, because it was closer and she didn't want to see Shaw's dead body again.

  She could still taste the blood on her mouth- feel the monster’s rough hands on her body. Her reason was quickly abandoning her. She moved on pure self-preservation. Some mechanical reflex had taken her over. Inside her head her world had crashed.

  “You be meat now, whore!” the killer swore behind her.

  Lorrie leapt into the highway patrol car, which vibrated in neutral. She spun the car around back toward Houston and she took off, refusing to stare back.

  ***

  Dreg decided to intercept the girl with the car her dead beau occupied when his voice warned him an instant before he saw the headlights in the distance. He would have to let this girl go, though he longed to see her hot entrails poured out on the pavement. He glanced at the prey’s car. Do not take it, the voice told him. The cowboy-men will catch you if you do.

  Instead, Dreg hurried over and he reached into the vehicle. He hoisted the dead body over his shoulder, and then he rushed toward the darkness of the woods.

  ***

  “What the Sam Hell is going on?” James Whittley wondered out loud as the highway patrol car in the distance swerved between the lanes and headed at him.

  Whittley hit his lights as the car closed the distance between them. Suddenly, the car swerved into Whittley’s lane. He jerked the steering wheel, but not in time to keep the car from crashing into his.

  The front end of the car hit his side and both vehicles slid into the shoulder of the road. Whittley, suffering nothing but a momentary shock, leapt from his car and ran to the offending vehicle.

  The pale, crimson-soaked, screaming girl behind the wheel clutched at his uniform.

  “Easy, now,” Whittley said, examining the girl with his flashlight.

  “Killed...Shaw...man...face horrible face killed Shaw ohgodohgodohgod!” the girl carried on.

  Whittley looked up the road and he saw a pair of taillights. He sat the flashlight aside and grasped the girl’s shoulders. She looked like hell. Pure hell.

  “Calm down, sugar,” Whittley said. “Get a hold of yourself. Tell me what happened.”

  The girl laughed like a loon, and Whittley realized that she had lost it. “The monster,” she giggled. “The monster came out and killed Shaw. Killed him. Killed him. Dead, dead, dead...” She paused, and she gazed someplace far away. “I want my mommy,” she said, meekly.

  The girl's eyes rose toward their lids and she passed out cold.

  Whittley immediately felt for her pulse. After that, he rushed back to his car and radio.

  ***

  Luke exited the Hardy Toll road and he pulled on to Interstate 45. It was a longer and more scenic route, but there were more rest areas on 45 and he had to piss like crazy. His stomach suddenly gurgled and he realized that he hadn't had a decent bowel movement in days.

  "Great," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably as the sudden urge to shit grew in his gut. Fortunately, he knew there was a rest stop very close.

  Luke glanced over at Tammy. She was asleep on the passenger’s side.

  He pleaded with his body to not let anything slip out as he pulled quickly into the rest area and he parked under a high yellow light that choked the color out of everything.

  "Tammy," he whispered. "I have to go to the bathroom. It's humid as hell and I don't want to kill the air conditioner, so I am going to lock the door behind me. I might be a few minutes."

  "Mm-hmm," Tammy answered, her eyes still shut.

  "I'll tap on the window when I come back," Luke said.

  "Yep. 'Kay," Tammy said sleepily. She turned her face toward the passenger window.

  Luke stepped out of the car. He locked Tammy in and then he waddled carefully to the men's room.

  ***

  Dreg emerged from the brush. He was a good distance from the murder site already. He had moved quickly through the woods, using routes that only he knew to put him far away from the scene, after setting a quick trap to delay the cowboy-men.

  He glanced around. Dreg looked up the road, spotting a ride home, and he quickly made his way to it.

  ***

  There was a tap on the driver's side window. Tammy groggily felt around for the central door lock on the dashboard. Half-awake, she flipped it up and then she settled back into her seat.

  The car door opened and she cringed as the dome light came to life. She pressed her eyes tighter together and she moaned a protest. She felt Luke’s weight settle into the driver’s seat. The door closed and the car interior went dark again.

  "Don't wake me up again until we are in Dallas," she warned sleepily, as the car began to move again.

  ***

  Whittley navigated through the thick forest, following a trail of blood with his flashlight.

  “Fan out!” he called to the officers that had arrived moments after his accident. A highway patrolman and a fellow Ranger has responded to his call for back-up and they had gotten there damn quick. They were following his lead and a canine unit was on the way.

  The girl in the car, Lorrie Macroon, had managed to rip a slither of cloth off of the killer’s shirt. Whittley had hoped that the fabric would put the hounds right on the bastard, but hell- there was a trail of gore leading him onward.

  He had his .357 Sig out as he carefully searched the darkness. The blood trail Whittley had been following ended suddenly at a tree. He fixed his light on the tree trunk, slowly tilting the flashlight beam up the bark. A large bundle of clothing, perhaps a wadded shirt, rested on a branch.

  Whittley shoved his flashlight under his armpit and he dug out a pair of sterile gloves.

  "I got something!" he called to the other officers.

  He shone his flashlight back up the tree and he reached up and grasped the piece of evidence. It was caught, so he gave it a good tug. Whittley looked closer and he saw that a pair of suspenders had been attached to the shirt and then he heard a heavy sound over his head.

  A corpse lurched downward from an upper limb. As the body plummeted toward Whittley, the stomach of the corpse opened, expelling its contents on to the startled Ranger.

  Whittley was doused with the wet organs of the corpse and then he was driven painfully to the ground by the dead body's weight. He screamed out to his men and his cry was quickly muffled by the gore that had spilled into his mouth.

  ***

  “Tammy?” Luke said, standing at the empty curb of the rest area.

  The car was gone. He walked quickly to the road and he searched frantically down both directions.

  “Tammy!” Luke shouted, seeing nothing on the road but darkness.

  His head swam with dread. He turned and began to walk quickly back in the direction he had driven.

  After a few seconds, he ran.

  ***

  Tammy woke as the car rumbled over a huge bump. She glanced to her left, her sleepy gaze fixing on the ghastly figure steering the car.

  “Go night-night, louve,” the big-mouthed, ugly ghost said. He viciously grasped her by her hair and he slammed her head against the dashboard, sending her back into darkness.

  CHAPTER 35

  Harlson was still digesting the murder of Shaw Austen when Lucas Glover appeared at his desk. Luke's clothes were wrinkled and his eye
s were bloodshot. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides as he stared at Harlson.

  “We have to talk,” Luke said, grimly.

  “I know,” Harlson said, standing up. “I spoke to Whittley’s men this morning. I’ve been expecting you. Let’s go somewhere private.”

  They walked into a dark, empty conference room. Harlson switched on the fluorescent lights and he closed the door on the clamor in the hallway.

  “He has her,” Luke said. “That guy you caught wasn’t the Keepsake Killer. I’ve been in the lobby of this place all fucking night waiting for answers and none of you assholes has come up with anything. But I know the answer. The Keepsake Killer has my wife.”

  “Now, before you fly off the handle, let’s consider a few things,” Harlson said.

  “What the fuck is there to consider?” Luke demanded. “My wife disappeared two miles from the Austen murder site. The son of a bitch that you bastards had the public believing was in custody got into my car while I was taking a shit of all things and now he has my wife!” Luke shouted in rage.

  “Calm down,” Harlson pleaded. “You’re still weak from your spell the other day. You’ll end up right back in the hospital. Now, are you sure your wife didn’t just leave you there? Did you have an argument with her?”

  “No, goddamn it, we were fine!” Luke shouted in Harlson’s face so vehemently that the detective backed up out of reflex. “I’ve already told you what happened. What are you going to do?”

  Harlson didn’t blame Luke for the outburst. If he were put in the same situation and it was his sister Babbs who was missing, he wouldn’t gamble on any less a spectacle. But he had to reach Luke through the anger. If there was a course of action to take, neither one of them would figure it out with him carrying on the way he was.