Whisper Lake (The Turning Book 2)

by Micky Neilson

  Trees whipped by the bus' windows. CJ wondered if Stank made it. Probably didn't. Homeboy had lost a lot of blood. That first Bagger, that Bugs Bunny buck-toothed fuck... that was rough. The crazy thing was the others were easier. By the time CJ had left Stank, he wasn't feeling much of anything at all.

  That's not true; what he felt was determination. Determination to find and kill Mamba.

  He had caught the first bus to Whisper Lake just after noon, knowing the whole way that finding Jason wasn't going to be easy. There was also the possibility that he was too late. Mamba had several hours' head start. Of course, if CJ had taken four bullets to the chest and lived… what exactly was Mamba going to do differently? Whatever it was, had he already done it?

  Then the bus passed Joe Coolidge. The fat fuck was by the side of the interstate, just a mile from the turnoff for the old sawmill, standing near the popped-up hood of his Ford pickup.

  Joe was one of Boil's drivers. Was it a coincidence that he was broken down by the mill road? Maybe, but CJ had doubted it. More likely he was a lookout.

  No matter how much CJ had begged, the bus driver refused to pull over anywhere but her designated stop. So CJ waited. Once off the bus, he had struggled: should he walk straight to the mill (which would take at least an hour), go to Celine's trailer, or Jason's mom's house? CJ figured that anyone looking for Jason while he was missing would have checked those places. If Jason was alive, it would make more sense that he'd be hiding out at the old mill. Of course, there was the suspicious presence of Joe Coolidge and his "broken down" truck. Finally, CJ had looked at the mid afternoon sun and decided he needed to shit or get off the pot.

  The mill it was.

  ***

  Waiting on Ghost, Jason looked once again to the sky. The sun was below the horizon now, splashing brilliant reds and oranges onto a thick, dark cloud bank. Thunder grumbled in the distance.

  Over the last few minutes, Jason had been hearing noises of a person walking through the woods and getting closer. Whoever it was would be breaking the tree line before too long. Hopefully it was just a hunter, but even then, if they got too nosy it could be a problem.

  The person in the woods was close enough now that he or she would be able see and hear the two of them very soon. Jason was torn between concealing himself and telling Ghost to do the same, or confronting and driving off the trespasser.

  The wind shifted. Now Jason could smell their unseen guest. It was a familiar scent, one that recalled memories of bike rides, backyard wrestling matches, and afternoons spent watching Steven Seagal and Jean Claude Van Damme movies. Jason couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but he had a strong feeling that he knew who their visitor was.

  But what would he be doing here? Spying for Boil most likely.

  Jason opened the door to the machine shop, still watching the tree line. "We're gonna have company," he called to Ghost.

  "Shit," he heard the kid say.

  "It's okay," Jason replied. "Just one person." He wasn't sure yet how we would handle the situation. If it was who he thought it was, he didn't want to use deadly force. But they could talk. At the very least they could do that.

  "I'll be back," Jason said and walked over toward the tree line where he knew the other man was standing, watching.

  "Come on out," Jason yelled.

  At first there was nothing. Jason wondered if maybe he would be forced to go after him. But then… CJ stepped out into the open.

  He walked slowly, somewhat unsteadily, his mouth hanging open. Jason could detect other fumes coming off him now: marijuana, some stronger drugs, unwashed clothes, urine… and blood.

  He was wearing boots, jeans, a hoodie, and beneath that… a cowboy shirt? He also had on a backpack.

  "Holy shit," CJ said. "It is you. It really is you."

  "Yeah…" Jason replied. "Hey."

  And then, CJ actually laughed. Finally, he shook his head as he said "Hey."

  ***

  Celine's gut twisted. She felt… odd. Out of sorts. Jittery. Foggy-headed. Her body wanted to do something and was being prevented from doing it. She took several deep breaths and told herself yet again that she had made the right choice.

  As she approached the Dreiling farm she thought of how she might get the dose to the preacher without Bethany knowing. With any luck, Jason's mom would be napping or off in some other part of the house. The best case would be if the pastor were working outside.

  When Celine pulled up in front of the house, she could see that she would have no such luck. Clouds had begun rolling in, accompanied by rolling thunder as she exited the Jeep and walked to the front door…

  Which had been pulled to.

  Celine pushed it open slowly and called, "Father Dreiling?" Muffled voices came from the family room on her left. Two chairs were there, facing the staircase leading up to the second floor. The pastor's wife, Becky, was sitting in the first chair, hands duct-taped behind her, and feet taped to the chair's legs. She twisted her head around, eyes wide. Her mouth was taped as well. In the chair to her right was Father Dreiling. Celine hurried in and as she cleared the family room wall she could see one more chair and a wheelchair. In the chair sat Bethany, in the wheelchair Trish. They were bound and silenced, same as the pastor and his wife… except that Trish's arms were duct taped to the wheelchair arms and her legs weren't restrained.

  Celine was moving to free Becky, who was closest to her, when she heard a floorboard creak. She looked over to see a weapon aimed at her, felt a sharp pain in her neck, and reached up to pull out a dart. The shooter stepped forward from a side hall into the light of the doorway.

  It was agent Bagby, her lip curling up on the side with the birthmark.

  The last thing Celine saw before hitting the floor was the agent waving "bye bye."

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Jason had listened as CJ explained about Mamba. Ghost was aware of him as well, and was clearly petrified at the idea that the gang leader and his crew might come storming in at any moment. CJ had also told Jason about Alice, Jack, and the rez.

  The crazy thing, Jason thought, was that CJ really did seem different. He acted much more like the old CJ, before all the drugs and bullshit. Even as Jason considered this, CJ pulled out a pack of smokes, shook one out and lit up.

  He didn't kick all of his old habits.

  "You don't owe me anything," Jason said finally. "I know you think you do, but you don't. You didn't have to come out here… but I'm glad you did."

  Ghost walked out of the machine shop, syringe in hand, and hurried to stand next to Jason. "It's ready," he said, holding up the drug.

  "There's something I gotta know," CJ said while Ghost fidgeted nervously, scanning the tree line and eyeing the sky. The light around them was disappearing more and more quickly. The clouds overhead had built to a full-blown storm system.

  "The old Indian who took me said all kinds of insane shit about you, man…" CJ took a long drag on his cig before continuing. "I gotta know how you lived. I… look you know it was Carter that shot you and then he… he said if I didn't he'd—"

  "I know what he said," Jason replied, sparing CJ having to go through it.

  CJ shook his head in disbelief. "I know it doesn't matter but I felt like shit. It really fucked me up, man. I even tried to kill myself but I screwed that up too and… it all just kind of… got away from me, you know? Everything. Life. Anyway, I don't know how you came through it but I'm happy, man. Really." Tears were now spilling from CJ's eyes. He wiped them away self-consciously.

  "Yo if Boil and his crew are inbound this chit chat's gotta wait," Ghost cut in, "You gotta take this and we gotta book it."

  "We're not going anywhere," Jason said. "Not 'til Celine gets back."

  "What? But if Mamba and Boil—" the kid began.

  "Then we have to be ready," Jason said. "As ready as we can be, anyway."

  "Fuck that, bro. You can count me out," Ghost said. "I did what I said I would. You're on your own."


  CJ popped the cig back in his mouth, took off his backpack and opened it.

  It was full of guns. Several pistols and one AK-47. CJ stood straight and smiled, removing the smoke. "A little gift from the Baggerz. You're not on your own," CJ said. "I'll kill Mamba, or I'll die tryin'."

  Jason gazed steadily at CJ. "You sure about that?" CJ dipped his head and considered what he was about to say.

  "Look," he began, "I've done a lot of stupid shit. I was fucked up on drugs for years. That's not me makin excuses that's just fact. I was an asshole. To you, to Celine…" CJ started to tear up again. "Aside from getting revenge, this is a chance for me to not be a total fuck-up for once. Maybe… shit I don't know, maybe I can make up a little bit for what happened between us." CJ offered Jason a pained look. "We were brothers, you and me. If I die, I'll die as your brother."

  Jason stared quietly at CJ for a long moment. Finally, he approached and embraced CJ.

  Ghost cut in: "It's not enough."

  Both men looked at the teen, who was gesturing down at the bag. "Don't matter how many guns you got. There's still only you guys 'til Celine gets back. Against however many from the gang, and Boil's peeps, and that big-ass freak Carter. And you bit him," the kid waved in Jason's direction. "So he's gonna turn into… something you got no defense against. What makes you think you stand a chance? Delusions of grandeur?"

  The kid was right. Unless…

  Jason took the syringe from Ghost and looked at it.

  Delusions of grandeur had never been Jason's problem. If anything, it'd been the opposite: lack of confidence. Father Dreiling had said the most powerful weapon available to any of God's children was faith. Of course, he had been talking about faith in the Lord but, Jason thought, what about faith in one's self? Jason considered the tattoo that he had tried to cut away. Hellbound. That word, that destiny he prescribed for himself… maybe it was only true for as long as he allowed it to be.

  "Before you leave, can you fix up a dose that's just the receptor-blocker, like what you gave Celine for Trish?"

  "Yeah…" the kid said, brows knitted. "That means… you're gonna let yourself turn."

  "Turn into what?" CJ asked.

  Jason looked over to his friend. He would have to have faith in himself, for the first time in a long time. Faith that he would not kill CJ, or Celine when she came back. He had spent so long cursing what he was, what he became, but now the beast might be their only chance. If he could use it… Celine would approve. Hell, she'd be proud of him. It wasn't an easy choice. It wasn't ideal. None of this crazy shit was ideal, but given the circumstances it was their best chance to even the odds.

  After all, it wasn't like the enemy would have silver bullets.

  ***

  Celine's brain felt disconnected from her body; floating, bobbing along on rocking waves.

  She opened her eyes and began regaining her bearings. She was in the same room where she had been shot with the tranquilizer. Her hands were cuffed around the base of one of the wooden balusters, high enough on the stair that her arms were stretched uncomfortably, her feet barely touching the floor. Her stomach roiled and deep, shooting pains lanced her muscles.

  "It was the retard that gave you away," Bagby was saying. She held the tranquilizer gun in her left hand. In her right was a semi-automatic pistol. She wore black jeans and a black sweater. Celine thought she looked silly, like a villain from a James Bond movie. "I knew she'd need medicine. Father Dreiling here was nice enough to take your mom to get pills. A few pointed questions to the pharmacist and voila!" The woman held her hands out to indicate the room. "Here we are!"

  Celine looked over to Trish. Those eyes burned with a deep and primal hatred. The influence of the goddess was very clearly there. Next to her, Bethany was petrified, her eyes wide and pleading. "Where's Jason?" Bagby asked. She had taken a few steps toward Celine.

  "I don't know," Celine answered.

  "You really thought you'd pulled one over on me?" Bagby drew closer. "Did you not think I would talk to the only doctor in town? Did you really not think that you suffering an animal bite on the night of a full moon wouldn't be a really big fucking clue?"

  She had interviewed Doc Keen. Of course she had. Stupid, not to consider that she would. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Waves of nausea and cramps rolled through Celine's body.

  Bagby raised an arm to glance at her watch. "Little less than an hour until you turn. Probably kicking yourself right about now for not smelling me before you walked in…"

  The agent, of course, didn't know about the drug. Good.

  "Masking scent," Bagby said with more than a hint of pride. "Works like a charm. Where's Jason?"

  "I told you I don't know." Celine had broken out in a cold sweat now.

  Crossing over to stand next to Trish, Bagby said "Noticed bite marks on the retard when I tied her up. You? Or Jason?"

  Celine didn't answer.

  With a shrug Bagby continued "One of you managed to bite her without killing her. But the bite didn't heal like it should have. That's interesting. It's very, very interesting. I don't suppose you'll tell me why you came here?"

  She walked over to the windows that faced the driveway. Next to one was a small round table with a lamp, and next to it, Celine's syringe with the receptor-blocking dose. Bagby set down the tranquilizer gun, lifted up the needle and said "Something to do with this? Hoping to put her out of her misery? Hm?" The agent waited for an answer. After receiving none she shook her head, set the syringe back on the table, and chuckled as she moved to stand beside Becky. "That's fine. We have analysts who'll tell us exactly what it is. Where's Jason?"

  "I told you I don't—"

  In one swift and precise movement Bagby lifted her right hand, held the pistol to the side of Becky's head, and fired. The woman's head jerked sideways and bobbled as blood sprayed onto Father Dreiling's shoulder. He screamed against the duct tape, his body jerking and bucking.

  "You cunt!" Celine shouted. What she saw didn't seem real. Becky's body hung limply to one side, blood still running from the right side of her head onto the carpet. Rage engulfed Celine; the beast wanted so badly to break free, but the medicine… the goddamn medicine…

  The agent looked mildly offended and said "Relax, both of you. I'm sure she went straight to Heaven."

  Lifting the pistol, Bagby pointed at the butt where the magazine was loaded and said "Regular ammo. For the normal people. No bites on the reverend and his wife. But for you, you and Special Needs over there…" the agent pulled a second magazine from her pocket and held the top toward Celine. The bullets inside gleamed. "Silver."

  Father Dreiling was mewling behind the tape, his eyes fixed on the ruined head of his wife. Bagby stepped behind Becky's chair to be close to the pastor. "Where's Jason?" She asked.

  Celine snarled "Don't you fucking do it, bitch. Don't you—"

  The agent's gun arm was in the process of rising when the sound of vehicles out front brought her movement to a stop. Two vehicles, by the sound of them. The engines turned off and next came the noise of doors opening and feet stepping onto the gravel. Bagby crossed to the window with the small table and pulled the sheer curtain aside:

  "Well now, who the fuck is this?"

  ***

  CJ was worried that the kid would just bail on both of them after he gave Jason whatever shot he gave him. But he had agreed to do one more thing before going, and he was doing it now. The coolest thing about being a chemist was that the little shit knew exactly what kinds of things could mix safely, and what kinds of things, when mixed, would blow your ass up.

  As CJ helped the kid get things ready, Ghost told him why he had been taken by Celine and Jason. Jason had told CJ what he would become when the full moon rose, but CJ was still having trouble wrapping his head around it.

  Just then Jason approached the two of them where they worked at the machine shop. He looked both sick and— even though he was walking kind of hunched over— he looked bigger. In his right hand he he
ld his father's old hunting rifle. In his left he had CJ's backpack.

  "Boil's men are here," he said.

  CJ looked around. "Where?"

  "Out by the interstate. I heard their cars and trucks pull up. Sounds like there's a lot of 'em."

  "You heard them? All the way out there?" That had to be bullshit.

  Jason nodded. "Yeah. It'll take a little while for 'em to hike through the woods but we'd better be ready."

  "Fuck," Ghost said. "Okay. Okay look if they grab me up, maybe I can get 'em to just leave…"

  "You know better," Jason said. "They won't leave witnesses behind, or old enemies. They came here to finish it off, all of it. And what do you think Boil's gonna do to you when he doesn't need you anymore?"

  The kid's eyes darted to the tree line. "Yeah," Jason said, "You could make a run for it, hide out in the trees. I won't stop you. But do you honestly think Carter, once he turns, can't track you down? At least if you stay with me, you know I took the drug. You know I already resisted the urge to kill you once before, at the Haversaws…"

  The kid was pale, but there was also resignation written on his features. Jason was right. And the kid knew it.

  "I'm gonna get in position," Jason said, leaving the backpack as he turned and walked away. "You do what you gotta do," he called to Ghost over his shoulder.

  CJ watched him go and said "Is he really, seriously gonna turn into a fucking wolf man?"

  Next to him, the kid was silent as he trembled and looked out toward the interstate.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Carter had begun to think the operation would never get under way.

  Ever since Mamba and his crew had shown up last night, it had been one thing after another. Carter had been tasked with getting the eight Baggerz put up at one of Boil's houses. When he returned, he experienced a distinct feeling that Mamba and the old man had been talking while he was away. Likewise, he discerned that the subject of their conversation was not meant for his ears.