by Terence West
"Why don't they just ask me for my bloomin’ lunch money next time?"
Dusting himself off, Cane slid back to the wall and sat down. It appeared he wasn't going anywhere for a while. He began to wonder where this cave was. It could be anywhere as the phantoms had struck all over the small town of Stone Brook, but they seemed to keep coming back to the Grant House. Maybe this cave was located near the house, Cane theorized. Then again, he thought grimly, this may just be the place they are going to perform the ritual they were talking about. A nice secluded location away from prying eyes. He wished he knew what ritual they were talking about. Scratch that. He wished he had a hacksaw. Scratch that one too. He really wished he were back in his apartment in Washington watching "I Love Lucy" reruns.
Chapter 25
Enbaugh snapped his head up. He had fallen asleep in the chair next to Kelley's bed. They had been watching a rerun of "Hogan's Hero's" on television, and he guessed he'd just nodded off. Glancing over at Kelley, he realized she had too. The bluish light of the television was casting a serene glow across the blankets she had wrapped around her body. She had almost curled into a fetal position in the middle of the hospital bed. The head was elevated just a bit, so she had slid down to the middle. He wasn't sure why, but she reminded him of a child sleeping in the back seat of a car on a long trip home. Perhaps because he and his brother had always done so on the way back from Grandmother's. He smiled involuntarily at the thought. Even if he weren't asleep on the trip, he would always fake it so his father would have to carry him to bed.
He wished his father were here now. They had always been close, and Enbaugh had always felt his father was one of the few people he could actually talk to in his life. His mother had died when he was ten, so his father and brother were all he had. After her death, they had become what his father referred to as a "fighting unit". He had served in the Vietnam War, so there was always a military slant on everything he did. While other kids his age were out playing, Enbaugh often pulled K-P. His father was very strict, but he was also the kindest man Enbaugh ever knew. When his father would take Enbaugh into his large, hard hands, Enbaugh knew nothing in the world could hurt him.
He died three years ago from cancer, more specifically, a tumor in the right temporal lobe of his brain. The last six months before his death were hard on the family. Because the tumor was buried in his brain, it had caused him to almost go insane. Enbaugh frowned at the memory. On a trip to see his father one afternoon, he found him naked on the floor in a puddle of his own vomit. It wasn't befitting for a man of his stature. After all, he was supposed to be the warrior that came to his kid's rescue, not the other way around. His disease, even through the treatments and many surgeries, had progressed to such an extreme state, he didn't even remember his family. Often, toward the end, when Enbaugh came to visit, he had to remind his father of who he was, and more than once, he had to explain what happened to his mother. Each time, his father would take the news like a train wreck, sobbing uncontrollably because he couldn't deal properly with his emotions. When he finally did die, a cold Tuesday morning in January, there was relief in all their hearts. The man who had been their protector, their warrior, was finally getting some long deserved peace. Enbaugh truly hoped there was a heaven so his mother and father could be reunited.
Enbaugh tried to shake the thoughts from his head. He couldn't help it. His father had died in a hospital, and these places always reeked of death to him. He wondered how many thousands of people had finally given up their battles and died in this place. If any place in this world was truly haunted, he was sure it would be a hospital.
His mind wandered to the members of the OPR. He wondered how they were faring. Not liking to admit it in mixed company, he had always had a fascination with the supernatural. He had spent many a happy childhood day watching black and white monster movies wondering if the stories presented were even remotely possible. He would've liked to find out, but like so many others, he had no idea on where to begin, or what to do to seek that knowledge. When the time came, his father had urged him to seek a military career, but that hadn't been the path Enbaugh wanted to follow. He instead chose a career in the police force, and convinced his father he was still doing good, but on the home front.
Enbaugh glanced up at the clock. It was nearing five p.m. He thought about reaching for the television remote. The Ghost Chaser's, Inc. program would be on in about an hour and he was wondering if they were running any specials beforehand. After all, it was Halloween. Enbaugh smiled again. He was almost glad he wasn't out on the streets tonight. Strange shit happened on Halloween. Average, ordinary people transformed into outlaws on this night. He wasn't sure what the psychology was behind it, but wearing a cheap rubber mask, or a new set of clothes, allowed people to release their inner desires. He knew the boys in blue would have a tough go of it tonight, so he was content to stay right here next to Kelley and watch television. He needed a break anyway, and this was an all expense paid vacation. He didn't like the fact that the doctors were pumping drugs into his system, but he could live with it as long as those cute nurses kept coming back to check on him.
"Speaking of checking on me," Enbaugh said quickly, "I think I'm late for my medication. They're probably looking for me right now." He glanced over at Kelley again. She was sleeping quietly for the moment. Maybe he should go and at least check in.
Enbaugh glanced out through the large window next to Kelley's bed. Twilight should just be starting to set, but due to the storm, it was already dark outside. He wondered if the hurricane would intrude on anyone's Halloween plans. He shook his head with a grin. Even a hurricane wouldn't stop them.
Placing both hands firmly on the arms of the chair, he lifted himself out of it. His body was sore from sitting so long, but at least he hadn't been lying uselessly in bed. He yawned once, then stretched modestly, hoping he wouldn't pop any stitches. He suddenly felt the scratches in his chest throb slightly. He wondered why he and Kelley were marked up by the phantoms, yet not killed. They had ample opportunity to do so. Maybe they were just not to the phantom's liking. Enbaugh chuckled to himself. Wasn't that the story of his life, though?
He turned and began to walk toward the door, when something caught his attention. He slowly turned back into the room and scanned it, his eyes making a note of everything in the room. Maybe it's just my imagination, he thought, or the drugs they keep dumping into me. They've got me so on edge. Now you're just making excuses, he scolded himself. You know what's got you all jumpy. He looked back at Kelley. She was still dead asleep. He cringed at the word "dead". After the last few days, he decided he should reexamine some of his descriptive phrases. Enbaugh breathed a sigh of relief.
Turning back toward the door, he was startled to see a black shape whip in front of him. He quickly stumbled back toward Kelley. Reaching behind him, he grabbed her leg and started to shake it.
"Kelley, wake up! They're back!" He shook her leg again, then he felt his heart in his throat. Slowly turning around, he felt all his fears become realized.
A shadow was standing next to the bed with Kelley's head cradled in one of its clawed hands. Its other hand was poised at her throat, while a delicious smile hung just below its eyes. Kelley's eyes were wild with fear as she lay in the creature's arm. From the expression on her face, Enbaugh was sure she felt like she was about to die. She pleaded silently with Enbaugh to do something.
Enbaugh made a quick motion toward the shadow. The shadow's smile broadened as it shook its head. It used its free hand to point over Enbaugh's shoulder. Slowly turning, Enbaugh cursed under his breath when he saw the two other phantoms standing just behind him. They were both in human form, and both had a large, toothy grin covering their dark faces. Their large almond-shaped eyes had hardened to burning red slits in their heads as they stared at him.
Enbaugh returned his gaze to the first shadow. "What do you want?" he asked slowly. Unwilling to provoke an attack, he had to know what was going on. He felt he was due
at least that much.
The shadow ran its razor sharp claw down Kelley's hospital gown, slicing it open as it went, exposing the young girl's chest. Just above her left breast, the creature carved the picture of a heart in her skin. Kelley shrieked in terror and pain as blood poured from wound.
Enbaugh took a step toward the creature, but was quickly restrained by the other two shadows. They reached around and tore open his hospital gown revealing the similar scratches on his chest. The first shadow pointed his finger at Enbaugh's chest. Enbaugh slowly looked down. His eyes widened. He had a similar cut on the upper left-hand side of his chest. He hadn't noticed it was heart-shaped before. Angrily, he looked up at the phantom. It was just playing with Kelley and him. It had been from the start. Enbaugh had enough.
"Well, are you going to fucking kill us?" he shouted.
Kelley began to shake her head frantically in quiet protest. This was not the course of action she wanted Enbaugh to take.
The shadow slowly looked down at Kelley, then up to his two minions. He slowly nodded once.
All at once, one of the dark hands burst through Enbaugh's chest from behind. He blinked once in shock, then looked down at the black arm. In its hand was Enbaugh's still beating heart, dark red blood still spurting from the torn arteries and veins. Enbaugh gasped for breath as the shadow ripped its hand from his chest. He fell helplessly to his knees, his eyes still on the first phantom's face. Almost like a faraway echo, he could hear the shadow's laughter and see the pleasure in the creature's burning red eyes. He tilted his head back and a solemn laugh escaped his lips. I’m coming, Dad.
Kelley looked on in horror as Enbaugh's massive frame toppled lifelessly to the ground. She knew the same fate was waiting for her. The two shadows quickly moved across the room toward Kelley, their eyes transfixed on her healthy, pink flesh. She wasn't sure, but it was almost as if they were staring at her breasts with pleasure. One of the shadows started to reach down toward Kelley's chest, but was quickly stopped by the first.
"This one has power," he hissed. "We want her alive." He looked down at her face lovingly and caressed her cheek with its jagged fingers, "At least until tonight."
Kelley glanced up into the being's eyes. Then came the startling realization. "I know who you are."
****
Bishop was finally glad to be out of the car. Dawn's driving scared him. Dawn had rushed ahead to the house, but he was still a bit apprehensive about entering, even if it was only the garage. It was, after all, still part of the house, and these phantoms didn't seem to respect boundary lines. The whole idea of a ghost performing a mystical ritual just made his flesh crawl, and if it was to increase their power… he shuddered to think about the consequences. Then a memory flashed in his mind of the night in the hospital. They have a weakness, and I know it. I have to tell Cane.
Bishop picked up his pace as he strode toward the garage. He passed the empty satellite van and stopped in front of the large, white metal door. He rapped quickly three times until he heard the mechanism start to grind. He stood impatiently in front of the massive door as it slowly worked open. It seemed like an eternity that he stood there. He had vital information and this couldn't wait. Ducking down, he slid under the door as it continued to rise. Taking a few steps inside, he stopped and looked at the diminished crew standing before him. He quickly glanced over their faces and instantly knew something was wrong. It didn't take a detective to figure it out. This room had the air of a funeral parlor, rather than a television set. He could see a thick cloud of death looming over each head.
He moved quickly past the piles of equipment to Dawn's side. She was standing with Chloe and Carrie, and each had their heads bowed. "What's going on?" he asked quietly. One by one, each woman looked up at Bishop, then quickly returned their gaze to the floor. "What happened?" he asked again, this time with more force behind his voice.
Dawn turned to look at Bishop. Tears were hanging on the bottom of her eyelids threatening to stream down her face at any moment. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She slowly took a deep breath to collect herself, then tried again. "There's been… "she stuttered, then started again, "there's been a death."
Bishop took a step back from the group as his eyes widened. He snapped his head around and began to frantically search the garage. It was Cane. Dawn didn't have to say a word. He glimpsed the broken door leading into the house and quickly made up his mind. Spinning on his heels, he started for the door. "I'm going in after him."
Dawn raced after him. Reaching out, she grabbed him by the hand and by an act of sheer will, stopped him. "You can't."
Bishop's eyes were full of anger as he glared at Dawn. She was betraying him. "I'm going in that house right now," he said through clenched teeth, "and I'm going to bring back Cane."
"They already tried that," Dawn pleaded. She didn't want to lose her entire team in one day. "Don't you think they tried that?"
"They're not me," Bishop shouted egotistically.
He wasn't rational at the moment, and Dawn knew that. Her first instinct was to charge into the house as well, but that was before Carrie told her what happened to Cane's rescue team. "They lost a member of their crew, Bishop. They sent in Trent and Chris to look for Cane and they lost Chris." She paused, "He's dead, Bish."
"I don't care," Bishop said, wrenching his arm free. "I'm going in."
Dawn quickly grabbed Bishop again. This time, she wasn't letting go. "Stop," she implored quietly. "Please listen to me."
Bishop started forward again, then stopped. "How can you do this? You claimed this man was your best friend, and now you just want me to let go? Am I understanding you correctly?" he asked angrily. "If it were one of us in there, do you think he would waste a moment standing out here and discussing it?" Bishop waited a moment for a response, but was too impatient to listen to it. "No. He would be charging in with guns blazing, looking for us."
"I know he would," Dawn said softly as the tears erupted from their perch on her eyelids and streaked down her cheeks, "but we can't." She lifted her hand and quickly wiped away the tears, trying to salvage her mascara before it was too late. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat. She could feel an involuntary spasm of crying tugging at her insides. It was all she could do to stop it.
"I don't understand," Bishop exhaled deeply and tried to calm down. He felt like a dog trying to understand the concept of death. "I have to do something," he added calmly.
"We will," pledged Dawn, "but right now, we need to look at the bigger picture. If Cane is dead, they have six hearts now, counting Chris'. If you go charging in there, you'll be an easy target, and they'll have all seven hearts. We can't let that happen, Bishop. They can't complete the ritual."
"You have to let me go," Bishop argued.
"Why?"
It was only one word, yet an extremely complicated question. His motives were at the very heart of the matter. Why did he so desperately need to rush in there? Had he grown so attached to Cane that he was willing to give up his own life, or was it for another reason? Had he grown that attached to Dawn? He mulled over the thoughts in his brain. Perhaps the simplest answer was that he was loyal. No matter what his true feelings were for the individuals he worked with, they were a team now. They relied on each other, gave each other strength, and were each other's courage. He knew that being part of a team was being part of a family, and loyalty was the tie that bound them together. He was willing to risk his life for his teammate, his brother. The answer came succinctly to him.
"I know what can hurt them," Bishop stated boldly.
"What?" Dawn asked curiously. As far as she knew, these creatures had no weaknesses.
Bishop smiled. "A direct burst of light directly into their eyes repels them," he said honestly. "Not just sunlight, but any light," he reiterated.
Dawn thought for a moment. "I'm not sure that proves anything. I think at best," she considered her words carefully with a sigh, "we can say we have a working theory here."
"That's exactly what Cain said."
"What?"
Bishop quickly remembered that Dawn wasn't in the emergency room when he had first discussed his findings. "When I told Cane what happened, he said the same thing. Only that we had a working theory."
Dawn was at once flattered by Bishop's remarks and saddened by them. It was nice to know that after all that time together, they were starting to rub off on each other, but just hearing his name was difficult. She returned her attention to Bishop and started to search for alternatives to his train of thought. "Maybe you just startled it," she offered as a possibility.
"I think I was the startled one," Bishop admitted sheepishly. "I didn't do it purposely, it just kind of happened by accident." He studied Dawn's facial expression and knew she wasn't buying it. He kicked at the ground and dug his hands deep into his jeans’ pockets. "I know what I saw," he defended. "I know it will work."
"I'm sure you do, Bish, but that's a pretty flimsy concept to be holding on to when one of those killers comes rushing for your heart."
Her words hit like a ton of bricks. He couldn't defy her logic; rather, he was beaten down by it. He subtly returned to his previous argument. "I can't just stand here," he said quietly.
"Oh yes we can," Chloe interrupted.
Dawn and Bishop suddenly had the feeling everyone in the garage had been listening the entire time. Dawn turned around to face Chloe. "Why is that?" she asked quickly, trying not to be angry she had been eavesdropped upon.
Chloe tapped her watch. "We go live in forty minutes." She tried to muster a smile, "Then we all go into the house."
"Cane might be dead by then," Bishop said under his breath.
