The Skinwalker Conspiracies - 02

by Jim Bernheimer

  “I’m better … I think,” she said slowly.

  “How’d you end up in a place like this?” I asked making a show of looking around. “It must cost a fortune.”

  “My parents,” she looked away, probably embarrassed. “They’re hoping I’m serious about getting help, this time. So am I.”

  “Oh, I never remember you talking about your parents,” I said this for show, because Skinwalkers have a habit of making a clean break, and taking anything of value with them.

  “They’re pretty well off. Dad’s a real estate developer up in Tulsa. I’m trying to earn back their trust. Right now, all I have is their pity.”

  “You’re probably making a good start. I’m just curious, but why didn’t you go to a place in Tulsa? Why’d you choose Dallas?”

  Sonya paused, as if she was trying to compose a proper answer. “This is going to sound stupid.”

  “Try me. I’m all about stupid.”

  She chuckled. I must’ve been doing something right for a change. “Cassandra was afraid of Dallas.”

  The startled look on my face was genuine. The fact that the Skinwalker was afraid of this place was noteworthy.

  Sonya shook her head, misinterpreting my reaction. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “No,” I tried to reassure her. “I believe you. Tell me more about Cassandra.”

  “Well, the doctors say that she was a manifestation of a split-personality and that Don’s death traumatized that part of my psyche and allowed me to regain control. I came here because I thought I’d be safe from her in Dallas.”

  “Any idea what’s special about Dallas?”

  “No. Everything is kind of foggy. It’s like I watched my life on TV.”

  “Was I at least the comic relief?” I sort of borrowed the line from Amos in hopes of keeping the tone from getting too tense.

  She scrunched her nose and replied, “No, you were my husband’s idiot best friend. Now, how about you? They said you wanted to talk to me about Don.”

  It was my turn to pause. Sonya deserves some honesty. She’d lost entire years from her life.

  “Not really. I want to know more about Cassandra Von Eckels and Skinwalkers.”

  Sonya sat up straight and went rigid. “She … they don’t exist! My doctors told me.”

  I motioned for her to calm down. “Sonya, listen to me. I bet you haven’t told your doctors all the things you remember – things like hanging around in graveyards and speaking with the dead.”

  The color drained from her face and her left hand had a death grip on the armrest.

  “Look, I know that Cassandra was a ghost who possessed you. I know that she’s real. She and Don tried to come after me when she left you, but I beat them.”

  “No, they’re not real,” she repeated in a hushed whisper.

  “Remember sending me Don’s dog tags?”

  “I never …,” she stopped and trailed off before her eyes opened wide. “I did do that, didn’t I?”

  “That was Cassandra doing it, Sonya.”

  “You said you beat her. How?”

  I shrugged and felt strangely self-conscious. “I’m a Ferryman.”

  “Ferryman? Ferryman? Cassandra was once in love with a Ferryman, but they don’t exist anymore.”

  “William. Yes, I know they had something together. It turns out I’m related to William and Edgar.”

  Her posture lost some of its stiffness. My words were getting through to things buried in Sonya’s subconscious. “Ferryman … they send ghosts on. Did you send her on?”

  “Not yet, that’s why I’m here. I want to make sure she’s gone.”

  “You can’t let her know where I am!”

  Aw hell! She was getting louder. Nurse Forrester on the other side of the room was looking at us.

  “I won’t. If she’s afraid to come to Dallas, you’re safe. Tell me about her. Where would she go? Is there an object that she’s very possessive of?”

  Sonya seemed to shrink back into the cushions. “I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to be Cassandra anymore! I’m Sonya! I need to be Sonya.”

  “C’mon Sonya, give me something about her that I can use. I’ll make sure she never finds you again.”

  “You can’t look for her. I don’t want her to find me!”

  “I can get rid of her once and for all. Just give me something, anything.”

  The approaching footsteps told me I didn’t have long. Two orderlies and the Nurse arrived on scene. “Mr. Ross, I’m going to have to cut this short. Sonya let’s go back to your suite.”

  Sonya fought as the two men helped her stand. She didn’t have the size or strength to mess with these two hulks, but she was getting an “A” for effort.

  After about ten seconds, she sagged in their arms. Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with me. “Amarillo,” she said. “Look for her in Amarillo.”

  She offered no further resistance as they took her away. I was left to face the ire of Nurse Forrester. Her kind motherly face looked much different now. “I don’t know what that was about Mr. Ross, but you might have just undone months of progress. I will escort you to the door. If you ever attempt to set foot on this property again, I’ll have you arrested. Are we clear on this?”

  “Yeah, I won’t be back.” I’d gotten what I needed at the expense of Sonya Hodges. Maybe these head doctors could put her back together, given enough time. They could only treat the symptoms. They’d never get to the root cause of her problems. I could. My job was to make certain that Cassandra would never come after Sonya again. As soon as I was sure William was truly gone, I’d send Cassandra to join both him and Donnie.

  Exiting the building, I heard a loud thunderclap. The sky had gone from overcast to black, but that was the weather in Texas. Several car alarms on the other side of the brick wall were going off and there was a crackle of ozone in the air. Whatever just happened was pretty close.

  From the doorway, the nurse pointed toward the driveway and didn’t really appear bothered that she was sending me out into a thunderstorm.

  Shrugging, I picked up the pace, but so did the rain. Getting to the guard shack, I flipped my visitor’s badge to him. Hopefully, Amos would be waiting for me. Loitering in the parking lot might be a problem. The rain was falling and the smell of ozone was stronger. I wondered if there hadn’t been a lightning strike right in the area.

  Like so many other times, I was wrong. Something was in the area alright, but it wasn’t natural.

  Amos was suspended in the air like a rag doll. The ghost holding him was choking my buddy while Amos’ feet kicking feebly at the spirit. The angry ghost wasn’t fazed and was instead demanding answers from Amos. He raised his free hand and, I shit you not, a lightning bolt went right through them. Amos grew alarmingly dim, while the other guy got brighter and the sky opened up with the rain turning into a torrential downpour.

  That wasn’t good. This guy’s aura was stronger than Taney’s. Hell, he might’ve been in Poe’s league. Good thing I was too! I charged while scooping a pair of cloth baggies filled with iron filings out of my pockets – my ghost fighting equivalent of brass knuckles.

  The attacker swept his hand, trying to shoo me away like a fly and I definitely felt something. It was like brushing up against an electric fence – with my teeth. Every car alarm in the parking lot was going off now. The noise was everywhere.

  Apparently, he was surprised that his little stunt didn’t hurt me worse or send me flying. I did notice that my hands were glowing brighter than normal. The combination of iron and my powers must have absorbed some of his attack. Part of his power was now mine and I was more than happy to return it to him in a second.

  He threw Amos at me, but I sidestepped out of the way. Amos Sweet was in a bad way. I didn’t even spare him a glance and focused on punching.

  “Get out of here Amos!” He’d just end up destroyed if he lingered.

  The ghost was strong, but not prepared for close combat.
Between my wrestling skills, Donnie’s lessons, and my army training, I was off to a quick start. My opponent seemed like he had skills, but was very rusty. He clearly wasn’t used to someone standing up to his first attacks. I got him with a left hook that staggered him and followed with a right to the gut. For some reason I was reminded of the old boxing game that Jimmy Wilkes had on his Nintendo – maybe it was because the guy reminded me of the first guy you had to fight.

  Problem was, he was soaking up the damage. He rolled with my next set of blows and got enough distance between the two of us to do his wave thing again. This time, I brought my arms in front and focused on blocking it. It still hurt, but I was right. My defense stopped even more of it this time. This infuriated him. He pounced on me filled with berserker rage.

  “What kind of Skinwalker are you? How many souls did Travis sell to get you here?”

  Blocking his flailing arms was tough. Were he still living, I’d be surprised if he weighed one sixty-five, but it felt like I was sparring with Don Hodges’ two fifty plus frame.

  He knocked me backwards. I used the momentum to whip around and club him with a spinning backfist. I’d never hit anything other than a punching bag that hard. It was like hitting a cinderblock. Pain shot all the way up my arm to my shoulder and I was sure that I’d snapped my wrist.

  Clutching it, I saw that I wasn’t the only one who was feeling the pain. The ghost was sprawled on all fours and trying to get up. I delivered a pair of kicks to his side, intending to keep him there.

  He caught my third kick and pulled me down. The look on his face was crazed and I felt the air crackling with energy. He was going to do that lightning thing again. That scared me, but not as much as the fire building inside me. My body reacts badly to massive amounts of ghostly energy.

  The first bolt hit. It was like doing a belly flop onto that aforementioned electric fence. I thrashed in agony, but didn’t pass out.

  The cleansing power in me was building and my chest was on fire. I fumbled with the plastic container on my necklace. The nitro pill came out and I got it into my mouth. It was time to see if it was going to save me. With a little prayer, I slid it under my tongue.

  Using my remaining focus, I pushed the power out through my arms at the deranged ghost. It left me as the ghost called his second bolt and the world exploded.

  There was a split second of weightlessness, followed by me slamming into the ground. The wrist felt better. Actually, it was just the rest of my body catching up to the pain there.

  I took stock of my situation. I was still alive and mostly conscious. That counted for something. My heartbeat pounded in my head, but I was grateful to still have both the head and heartbeat.

  About twenty feet from me, I saw the outline of the ghost. Holy shit! He’d survived! He looked about as good as I felt. His aura was dim and flickering. It explained why Cassandra avoided Dallas.

  Finding the energy to stand, I made my way over to him.

  He glared at me and said, “So, it’s you, Governor. You came back to finally finish me after all these years?”

  “I’m not a Governor. I’m not a Skinwalker and I have no idea who Travis is. My name is Mike Ross and I’m a Ferryman. I’m looking for a Skinwalker. Her name is Cassandra Von Eckels.”

  The man stared in surprise. “You’re not dead?”

  “Not yet, don’t plan on dying anytime soon, but I’ve got a score to settle with her.”

  “Eckels? I’ve heard of her. Almost killed her once, but she’s a slippery one. Last I heard she’s south of here, down around Killeen.”

  Despite the fact he’d almost killed me, we had a common enemy. “Why’d you attack Amos?”

  “He’s a ghost,” the ghost answered, as if it made sense.

  “Well … yeah, but I’m guessing you’re the head of the ghosts in Dallas.”

  “I’m the only ghost in Dallas.”

  “Really?” Things started to get interesting.

  “Yes. I get rid of any others.”

  The rain was starting to let up and I didn’t want to be seen talking to myself in the parking lot of a loony bin. That couldn’t possibly end well.

  I pulled the ghost to his feet and said, “Let’s get in my car. We can talk there.”

  Out of the rain, I realized that I was drenched. Hopefully the upholstery in Pastor Duncan’s Caddy wouldn’t need replacing by the time my little adventure ended.

  The ghost was a white guy, short curly hair, about my size, but skinnier. We both looked like hell.

  “Alright, why do you destroy all the other ghosts?”

  “They could become Skinwalkers.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “But they need to figure out how to do it first.”

  “You can’t give them a chance!”

  His outburst caused the car’s horn to beep and the wiper blades to jump halfway up the windshield. Here I thought I had an ax to grind. Suddenly, this guy didn’t seem so friendly. “So, who is that Governor guy, you were talking about?”

  “He’s the Skinwalker I’m after. Ancient sonnuvabitch. I almost got him about fifteen years ago, but he got away. I wasn’t strong enough to kill him, then. I’ve killed dozens of others since, but I haven’t been able to find him again.”

  “How about Travis?”

  “You don’t know much history do you?” He asked.

  I resented that. “I’m okay, but tell me what I don’t know.”

  “Obviously you don’t know crap about Texas history. William Travis? The Alamo? Ring a bell?”

  “I know Crockett and Bowie.”

  “Yeah, that’s what all the tourists remember. Part of the reason he’s such a bastard. He was the real commander at the Alamo. He runs South Texas. Every now and then, he sends some of his boys up here to test me. He wants to expand this way, but he won’t while I’m around. Most of them run home to their anchors, like your little friend did. The ones that are too stupid to do that, I destroy.”

  Yeah, that meant Amos was back in Gettysburg. I was without his services for a time.

  While I was thinking about that, the ghost continued, “I swing by the mental hospitals looking for Skinwalkers after I search the graveyards. I thought your ghost was one looking for a body.”

  “Not all ghosts are interested in becoming a Skinwalker. Trust me; I’ve met more than a few.”

  “You can never trust a ghost,” he replied. I ignored the irony of his statement.

  “Eckels and Travis must have had dealings,” I said drawing a logical conclusion.

  “Oh, you better believe that.”

  “Her last host was in that building. She thinks I should look in Amarillo.”

  “Travis would probably know for certain. He’s probably still her supplier. He might even know where the Governor is.”

  “Yeah maybe.” I paused to think it over. This dude was all kinds of powerful and Virginia did say I should gather allies. “What do you propose?”

  “Travis is nowhere near as strong as either of us, but he surrounds himself with numbers … large numbers. Together, we could take him.”

  “You seriously want to attack the Alamo?” My bad idea alarm went off. I’d already wrecked one historical monument in my short Ferryman career. Quite honestly, no one outside of Maryland gave a rat’s ass about the Roger B. Taney and Francis Scott Key museum. It was barely filler on a slow news day. Something told me that if the Alamo ended up in rubble, people wouldn’t look the other way.

  “If necessary, but we should try to lure his men out and get him alone,” the ghost said. I wasn’t certain I liked the gleam in his semi-translucent eyes.

  “Let’s take things slowly. I don’t even know your name yet,” I added. After being burned by Donnie, I wouldn’t jump into something headfirst.

  The ghost shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Man, Ross, you don’t know shit about history, do you?”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Who the hell are you?”

  He threw his head back and laughe
d. “I’m the one and only Lee Oswald.”

  “You mean Lee Harvey Oswald?” Okay, I didn’t see that one coming. Despite all I’d been through, there were still things that could shock me.

  “Never really cared for my middle name, but everyone insists on using it. Now that you know who I am, I’ll give you three shots to guess why I hate Skinwalkers.”

  Episode 18: Walking the Walk

  I vaguely recalled the lovely, and unfortunately attached, Jenny Goodman tell me that I could use my powers to uncover all sorts of juicy tidbits about conspiracies. At the time, I’d laughed her off. Yet, there I was sitting in my car with the answer to the “mac daddy” of all conspiracies.