Whisper Lake (The Turning Book 2)

by Micky Neilson

  "It'll have to do," Jason said.

  ***

  Celine smelled him when the wind shifted.

  She had told him she was going for a walk, that she needed to be alone to think… which was true. But this was also a test. A test that Ghost was failing.

  Since she had woken up, her sense of smell had been heightened—she understood now what Jason had meant about the chemical smell being overpowering. Slowly, her sense of hearing was becoming more sensitive as well. Ghost may have thought he was being sneaky, but he was sadly mistaken.

  He was heading west, probably trying to get back to the interstate. She waited for just a few moments and then set out after him. Unlike Ghost, Celine was moving swiftly and hardly making a sound. As she tracked the teen, memories of her dream returned, along with a growing, savage instinct to chase, to pounce... to kill.

  And that's exactly why we need this guy.

  She caught up to him quickly and resisted the urge to rip open his neck when his wide eyes peered over his shoulder. She instead pinned the terrified, out of breath kid against a tree.

  "What are you doing?" She asked.

  "I just—come on, what do you want from me?"

  It would be so easy to open that throat. "I want you to do what the fuck we asked you to do."

  "What if I can't?" the kid said, sweating despite the chill air.

  "There's no running," Celine said. "We can smell you; find you wherever you go."

  The kid was about ready to piss his pants. Maybe a different approach was called for. Celine backed up a step. "We're not going to hurt you, okay? In fact, I'm going to make you a promise—when this is over, I'll personally make sure that you get out of here, go wherever you want to go without getting hurt, okay? Not a scratch."

  "Yeah well when both of you turn into those… I'll be fucked."

  "We'll figure something out. Lock you in the RV. We wouldn't be able to get you there. Okay?"

  "Yeah, right."

  "I'm serious. We'll figure it out and I'll keep you safe but right now you're gonna go back and finish what you started. You're gonna help us help Trish. You got it?"

  The kid looked around as if still contemplating escape. Finally he just nodded. Celine gestured toward the mill. Ghost stumbled back that way.

  Several minutes later, they had bypassed the main structures and the log pond, and were approaching the machine shop when they met Jason. "Where were you guys?" He asked.

  "Just needed some air," Celine said. Jason eyed Ghost, who looked quickly away. Setting his jaw, Jason held up a syringe full of blood.

  "What—" Ghost began.

  "It's Trish's. We think she's immune to the physical change. If you can figure out whatever is in her blood that's different, then you can give it to me and Celine. You could give that to us, and give us and Trish what you come up with from the soil, and… and then maybe we're talking about a real cure. For all of us."

  Jason held the syringe out further. Ghost eyed it but didn't reach.

  "I'd need to identify which antigens are the most immunogenic… try to make a drug from there. But what you're talking about is something that takes months. At least. And that's on top of me identifying the soil chemical to block this… whatever-goddess chick."

  "I'm just asking you to do what you can. If there's any way that you can do what you just said…"

  "Then you won't have to worry about us turning," Celine finished.

  Ghost eyed Celine warily.

  "Maybe…" the kid said. "Maybe I can come up with a quick fix… I got a couple ideas."

  CHAPTER FORTY

  It had been another long day of hard work, but the long house was nearly done.

  After smoking a couple joints, CJ and Alice had fucked nice and slow for a good twenty minutes. He had to be careful playing with and sucking on her tits because they were sore… so he actually took his time, didn't just attack the titties like he normally would. She had ridden him on top again, and this time she had even turned around and fucked him reverse cowgirl.

  They had lain in the bed talking about metal bands and all the different drugs they had tried, when Alice got up and started rummaging through her closet.

  She pulled out a shoebox now, and walked on her knees back over to the bed, placing the box on the mattress. CJ sat up and crossed his legs, peeking as Alice flipped off the lid.

  Inside was an old Colt revolver.

  "Whoa," he said.

  "It was my uncle's," Alice offered. "Got it in the Army. Grandma don't know about it."

  "Can I…?"

  "Yeah."

  CJ pulled it out of the box and checked the cylinder—fully loaded. "Man, it's beautiful. Somebody tries to break in this would really ruin their day."

  "It's not for protection," Alice said. She braced her arm on the mattress and hauled herself up to sit on the end of the bed. "I kept it cause there were times when… I just wanted everything to be over, you know?"

  "Oh." CJ looked at her, looked at the gun. "Yeah I know. I get it. I tried to O.D. on purpose once. Fucked that up…"

  "I got real close a couple times. But now, now I got this…" Alice put her hand on her tummy. "I got a whole lot to live for."

  "Damn straight," CJ said. He put the pistol back in the box.

  "I want you to have it," Alice said.

  CJ pulled his head back. "What?"

  "Yeah I want you to have it. I don't need it. I don't want it here anymore. Maybe later you can sell it or something… I don't know."

  "You sure?"

  Biting her lip, Alice nodded. "I'm sure. If you sell it you don't even need to give me money for it. Will you do it? I really want you to, I mean it."

  After a few seconds' consideration CJ said "Okay. If that's what you want…"

  After a deep breath and exhale Alice said "Oh man, that feels good. I been wantin' to let it go but didn't know how." She broke into a wide smile, popped the lid back on, put the box over by the window then made her way back to the bed, stretching out with her belly up. She took CJ's hand and said "Will you lay with me a while?"

  "Yeah," CJ replied. "You bet."

  ***

  In his dream, Carter had killed… one pitiful meat bag after another, until he stood atop a mound of soft, pale corpses. Hundreds of humanoid bodies, every one of them faceless.

  When he had awoken, he was instantly beset by the sounds of his apartment – the hum of electronics, the creak of expanding wood behind the walls…. Very quickly, these noises were coupled with scents: the sweat on his sheets, dirty laundry on the floor, the remains of last night's dinner on a plate in the sink. The sphere of his perception widened to include his immediate neighbors: the old lady directly across was cooking a breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. She was burning the toast. Downstairs the skinny grocery store clerk was getting ready for work, dousing herself with cheap perfume. There were other smells too—garbage, rhododendron, cherries, laundry detergent....

  So this is what it's like to be a dog, he had thought.

  With the absence of Ghost at the cartel safe house, Boil was convinced that the kid was in the company of Celine and Jason. Carter had traveled first to the diner, where he enquired as to Celine's whereabouts. He had been told that Celine had a sickness in the family and had taken a week off. Next, he had traveled to the trailer Celine lived in with her mother, and found no one. An old couple in the next closest trailer confided that Celine's mother had left town and wasn't expected to return for at least a couple of weeks. Finally, he had attempted to locate Jason's mother and sister. The old house was empty, and judging by the small pile of letters in the mailbox, had been for at least a few days.

  Carter had already spoken to the two men who had been there when Ghost was taken. The sun was setting as he drove yet another of the boss's cars, a Dodge Demon, out onto Bear Creek, along with the pot-bellied man and his emaciated companion. They reminded him of those old comedians Abbot and Costello. Both men were shaking. Costello's voice broke as he
directed Carter to the location of the fallen tree. He pulled over, exited the vehicle, walked to the ditch and looked down to see the tree Costello had described. He ordered the two men to get out and reenact the events of that night.

  Abbot and Costello replayed the entire fiasco, from exiting the vehicle to being ordered at gunpoint by a masked man to lie in the ditch on the other side. He told them to show him exactly where they had cowered—accuracy was important.

  "He t-told us if we moved he'd kill us," Abbot said with his face still down in the dirt.

  "Like this?" Carter asked, removing a .45 Desert Eagle from behind his back—another loan from Boil—and shooting both men in the back of the head.

  After dragging Abbot and Costello far into the woods, he slowly continued driving. He drove all the way to the freeway, where he stopped short of the onramp. There he sat, considering. The sun had set now and the glutted moon had risen. It seemed to crystallize his thoughts.

  He was convinced that it was in fact Jason and Celine who had taken Ghost. But why? Why the elaborate plan? Why wait until Ghost was in the RV, when it would have been easier to snatch him from the junkyard? They obviously knew he was there. Would they really go to all of that trouble to hand Ghost over to the FBI? Would Jason put himself in that position, given what he was?

  It didn't make sense.

  He got out and stood just outside the car, basking in the moonlight, asking for guidance, listening to every sound carried on the night breeze, inhaling every odor.

  The moon, it seemed, had no answers for him. He reentered the vehicle, closed the door and swung a u-turn. As he did so, his headlights revealed a path through the woods. He hadn't noticed it from his previous vantage point, but now… it was clearly some kind of trail. He pulled to that side of the road and exited the vehicle. He walked over and knelt looking closely at the clear ground. There were marks stretching through the dirt, the peaks and valleys enhanced by the angle of the Demon's headlights. Walking further in, he spotted discarded branches. And beyond that, outside the beam of the headlights but barely visible in the moonlight…

  Were tire marks.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  "I found the RV."

  Carter was once again in Boil's cabin. The boss man was in his boxers on a couch in the living room, leaning forward eagerly with elbows on his knees. Although the windows were shaded, enough natural light poured through to necessitate Boil's sunglasses.

  "It was locked. Keys were gone, but I heard an engine, maybe a generator out at the old mill."

  Boil's jaw was slack. He sat back, tilting his head to the ceiling. "The fuck are they up to? They got the kid cookin' something? Makin' their own shit?" Boil shook his head. "No it don't make any goddamn sense."

  Carter could smell Boil's body odor, the egg and whiskey breakfast still on his breath. He could hear a small animal in the woods outside, moving through the brush.

  "What if…" Boil's head was level again. He was stroking the fringe of his mustache. "What if they got the kid to fix up somethin' to overcome you?" Boil nodded. "That bitch wants revenge, I know she does. But I've got you, and they ain't got no silver bullets so maybe they're finding another way…" Boil got up and walked to the kitchen counter. Carter could smell the whiskey as the boss man poured it. "There's only two ways I know of to get a vehicle in or outta Speakers' Mill: the old logging road access and that rail bed you found. I'll have boys watchin' both. They come out for anything, we'll know about it."

  He came back with a small glass in his left hand, which he waved in Carter's direction as he gestured. "I ain't takin no chances. You fixed Mamba's problem; I'm callin in that debt. No point in us doin all the dirty work ourselves. When my ammo comes in we'll storm that mill…"

  Boil smiled as he raised the glass toward his lips.

  "And light that place up like the Fourth of fucking July."

  ***

  One more day and the long house would be finished.

  CJ had heard one of the men talking about something called a Courting Blanket, being made for him by his older sister. The man would take it to his intended girlfriend, and the two would wrap themselves in it… close themselves off from the rest of the world.

  For most of the day, CJ had thought about Alice. He thought about the two of them, together. And though shutting out everyone and everything else was interesting, CJ was surprised to find that he didn't really want that. If he could be with Alice, well… this place wasn't so bad. These people were poor, they had problems, but they were holding on to their culture, and when it came to having problems… CJ was the last person in a position to judge.

  After the workday, CJ returned home (strange that he really thought of it as home now), and had eaten dinner alone. Jack had run off to some emergency council meeting. After dinner CJ had sat, looking at the old items in the house, thinking about what kind of money different old trinkets might fetch… and he felt like shit for it. The truth was, he didn't need to steal. He didn't need the dope. Not anymore, not now. He thought about going to bed, waiting for Alice to come rap on his window… but he figured it was late enough that her Grandma was either in bed or asleep in front of the TV. There was probably no harm in his sneaking over there.

  Two minutes later he was outside Alice's window, tapping on the glass, heart racing in anticipation of seeing her. He was smiling like an idiot. It was crazy how she made him feel.

  There was no answer. He waited a minute, tapped louder. Another minute, still nothing. His smile faded.

  She'll come by later. Probably spending time with Grandma. Disappointed, CJ turned and walked back toward home, the nearly full moon lighting his way.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CJ had heard the news first thing in the morning when he arrived at the long house: Alice was at the medical clinic. She had gone yesterday to have the baby. But when the others shared the news, they didn't do it with smiles on their faces. Pretty soon CJ learned why.

  The baby was dead.

  It had died inside her, and the doctor had needed to induce labor to get the tiny corpse out. CJ had listened in disbelief, and then he ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the medical clinic… but he had missed her. She had checked herself out an hour before.

  So CJ had found himself running again on tired legs to Alice's house, where her grandma—in a ratty nightshirt with gray hair down to her waist and a cat under one arm—had answered the door.

  "She's gone," the old woman said. Her eyes were yellow where they should have been white. "Packed herself a suitcase and left and nothin' I said made a bit o difference."

  Once again, CJ had found it difficult to believe what he was hearing. "She say where she's goin?"

  "Didn't have to. I already know. She gonna fall right back into old habits, go back to them thugs she used to hand around with. You gonna chase after her?"

  CJ had started to answer when the old woman continued:

  "Don't waste your time. Ain't no savin' her. Not now. Only one coulda saved her went and died in her belly. "

  The cat under her arm had started to squirm. Grandma swatted it on the head before closing the door.

  Jack had been waiting in the living room for CJ when he walked through the door. The old Indian had a knowing look in his eyes. CJ stood, looking at the small wad of cash in the other man's hand.

  "There's forty dollars here," Jack said, and sat the money on top of a stack of blankets on the small coffee table in front of the couch. "Enough for some food… and a bus ticket. Or…"

  Jack pulled a key from his cowboy shirt pocket, and placed it next to the money. "Or you can take this key. A key to this house. You can stay here as long as you need and build a life here, just like you been building that long house." Jack reached out and pulled the cash and the key further apart.

  "But you can't have both. You take that money, you walk out… you don't come back."

  CJ struggled. He looked at the cash and at the key… back and forth. Finally, the part of him
that was trying to fool itself gave in to the part that knew all along what he would do.

  "Thank you," CJ said, "for everything," as he stepped forward and picked up the money.

  ***

  The boss man chose a back road out by the Careless Whisper as the transaction spot. A dark gray Buick sedan had waited at the roadside for them. Carter drove Boil in the Demon, pulling nose to nose with the sedan, leaving the lights on. The Buick's headlights came on as well. Carter and Boil exited their vehicle and a rotund man with a thick salt-and-pepper beard extracted himself from the other.

  Boil and the gunrunner shook hands. The fat man kept an eye on Carter as he led them to his car's trunk. Judging by the smell, the man had been wearing his clothes for a few days straight. Carter detected foot odor through his boots. There was also another smell, hazy, drifting off the Buick… the soap used in cheap gas station car washes.

  When Salt and Pepper opened the trunk, moonlight and ambient headlight illumination revealed two military ammo boxes. The corpulent man pulled out a flashlight, flipped open both metal boxes, and shined the beam inside them: sleek, lustrous bullets of various shapes and sizes bounced the light back.

  "You got a little o' everything in there— .45, nine mil, .22, you name it."

  Boil removed his glasses, squinting at the metal boxes. "Good," he said. "Real good." The boss man tapped Carter, who was preoccupied by the bloated moon, on the shoulder. Carter removed an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to the gunrunner.

  "Been in this business long enough to know not to ask questions," Salt and Pepper said as he opened the envelope and flipped through the bills inside, "Still, this is one of the most bizarre orders I've filled."

  Boil smiled, putting his glasses back on. "Yeah, well I'll tell you something, when you think you've seen it all… that's when the world steps in to show you just how wrong you can be."