Brethren

by Shawn Ryan

He didn't say anything to Saunders. Instead, he looked at Badger. "Let's get started with the search."

  Fifteen forensic technicians spread out across the complex, plastic evidence bags in their hands. Five squad cars and the forensics wagon sat in the parking lot, their spotlights focused toward the buildings and the ground in between. Every square inch of lawn was lit. Insects scurried across the grass to escape the light.

  "Ya'll cover the ground out here first," Jason said, "then move to the back."

  Badger wasn't involved in the search. He was still too shaken. His mind was blasted by the sight of a little boy's body encircled by the glare of a flashlight. Spotlight on death. Vaudeville in hell. He strolled toward the back of the complex, trying to smoke a cigarette, but he had trouble getting it into his mouth. His hands were trembling as if he had the palsy.

  Standing in the back parking lot, Badger stared at the large, empty field behind the Civic Complex. The sky was full of stars, but looking at them made him uneasy; there was too much wide-openness up there, too many hidden secrets. Best to keep your eyes close to the ground. Yet even that was scary, you never knew what the light might reveal.

  His cigarette only half smoked, Badger gave up. It tasted like shit anyway. He wasn't sure he was calm enough to help the search, but it was better than feeling totally useless. He walked toward the breezeway between two of the buildings.

  As he flicked the cigarette butt onto the pavement, he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye. Or, at least he thought it was a flash. When he turned in its direction, all he saw was the darkness surrounding the complex's trash dumpster. Light from out front flowed over the tops of the buildings, lending a vague glow to the back, giving just enough brightness for Badger to see objects without being able to make out the sharper details. Squinting his eyes, he saw something leaning against the dumpster, something small and oddly shaped. For a moment, he thought he saw a greenish glow around the object, but he blinked his eyes and it was gone. Just trash that missed the trash container, he thought, then reconsidered. "We should check out everything," he said, and angled for the dumpster.

  It was a stuffed animal, Badger saw as he came closer. A frog, maybe. Pulling on the black leather gloves he carried in his back pocket, Badger picked it up gingerly. Yep, a frog. Pretty beat up, too. One of the arms had been torn off and sewn back on badly.

  The frog was familiar. He'd seen it before. Where? He felt it coming to him, like a rainstorm blowing in from the distance on gun-metal-gray clouds.

  Just before the storm of understanding broke over Badger, things changed. For the worse.

  Holding the frog, Badger was struck by a blast of sheer, unrelenting evil flowing off the toy, evil as old as the world, as timeless as the universe, as palpable as the cold hand of death. Badger shivered uncontrollably and felt an overwhelming need to hit his knees and pray to whatever god was handy. He felt naked and unprotected. There was no escape from such demonic malice, maybe not even by turning to God.

  Badger was not a religious man. He never had much use for the holier-than-thou attitude of the churchgoers he knew. He considered it hypocritical to be pious on Sunday but raise hell the rest of the week. But the feelings that now absorbed him were too powerful, too tangible to ignore. He felt a desert form in his mouth as fear absorbed all its moisture.

  A slight tingle began in the thumb of his right hand, a feather-light twitch starting at the tip and slowly creeping up the finger. He tried to lift his thumb, but couldn't. His thumb was iron and the toy a magnet.

  The tingle became sharper, coursing through his hand and up his arm. It felt like a huge insect crawling along the bone, its hairy legs gently scraping against the nerve endings. And it was moving toward his shoulder. Badger noticed goose bumps creeping up his skin in a steady wave. The hairs on his body stood on end.

  And he still couldn't let go. Fear changed to horror and a scream begged to be released. Just open your throat, it said, just for a second. He did. A pitiful croak was all that escaped.

  The tingle reached his shoulder and Badger could see the muscles hunch up under his shirt, as though something was trying to break through. As he watched, his eyes wide and unblinking, a sharp jab of pain burst through the skin and his shirt split with a rending sound. Two fangs the size of small nails tore through the fabric, followed by a head the size of a golf ball, a Mack, hairy head with eight glistening eyes. They caught Badger's stare and he could have sworn he heard laughter.

  With a squeal, Badger pulled the toy hard with his left hand, tearing it from the grasp of his right. The frog fell to the pavement and Badger's left hand flew to his right shoulder, pounding, pounding, pounding, trying to smash the horrible creature that was being born inside his body.

  It took a moment before he realized his fist was hitting empty flesh. There was no creature, no ripped shirt, not even any tingling. Nothing.

  Adrenaline coursed through Badger's body and all his muscles were tensed. His stomach felt nauseated, as if it had just plunged from the top of a roller coaster. Hallucinating? Why? How?

  "What the fuck is happening?" he said.

  He looked down and saw just another child's stuffed toy lying on the pavement. Nothing special about it. Squatting, he nervously extended his finger toward it, then pulled it back quickly. Did he really want to touch it again? Did he want to take that chance?

  He stared at the frog for several seconds, debating. If he touched it and it was just a toy, did that mean he was losing his mind? What if he felt the same things he had felt before? The implications of that were even more horrifying.

  But he had to know. Was he crazy, or worse? He reached out with his left hand. His index finger touched the animal, then sprang back. Nothing. Maybe he hadn't left it there long enough. He touched the frog again, resting his finger on it for several seconds. Nothing again. Just a toy. He picked it up. The instant he did, he knew it was a mistake.

  The eyes of the frog, simple button eyes moments before, opened. They stared at him, the color of cold silver, the frigidity of hatred.

  Like an evil Cheshire cat, the frog grinned, an ugly grimace full of stained teeth with bits of flesh dangling from the corners. Badger could feel his sanity sliding down a long tunnel. Then the mouth opened and Badger knew his world would never be the same. There would be no more safe places to hide, no secrets to keep.

  Two eyes rested on the tongue, bright blue eyes that Badger somehow knew once belonged to a little boy who now was dead. Optic nerves trailed behind the eyes, disappearing down the black throat The eyes gazed straight at Badger.

  "Eyes see you," a voice said, then the tongue moved upward, swallowing the eyes with a satisfied smack of the lips. A shrill cackle tore into Badger's brain.

  This time, he did scream. Loud and long.

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Jason strolled toward the back of the complex. He felt useless out front; there was nothing he could do except get in the way of the technicians searching for evidence. A couple of minutes earlier, he had seen Badger head back this way, shakily trying to get a cigarette into his mouth. Better see if he's okay, Jason decided.

  He was just entering the breezeway when Badger's scream echoed over the buildings. In an instant Jason was sprinting toward the sound, his Reeboks slapping the concrete.

  Skidding to a stop in the parking lot, Jason swiveled his head left to right. At first, everything was fuzzy as his eyes adjusted after the glare of the spotlights out front. When shapes became solid, Jason saw nothing unusual. Just the dumpster and some trash lying beside it.

  He spun around, scanning the field behind the buildings. It took a moment before he saw something out in the middle, about fifty yards away. A shadow blacker than the rest of the darkness lay close to the ground like a rock.

  Jason ran in the shadow's direction. As he drew closer, he heard whimpering. Badger. The man was on his knees, folded like a card table. His hands were on top of his head, fingers woven together as though trying
to protect himself from something overhead. Jason could hear him mumbling as he got closer: "Get him away. Get him away."

  "Badger. Badge," Jason said, dropping to his knees and grabbing the man's shoulders. "It's me, Jason."

  He spun Badger onto his back. The look of blind terror in Badger's eyes was shocking. It was the look of a cornered animal, a level of fear that erased rational thought. Seeing Jason's face, Badger yelped in horror and lashed out with his right fist. The blow caught Jason in the jaw with a solid crack and he flew backward. Badger scrambled to his feet and ran.

  "Help me, God. Help me," he screamed.

  "Badger, get back here," Jason yelled, leaping up to give chase.

  By this time, other officers were at the back of the buildings. Jason could hear them shouting, but didn't look back.

  Badger was a big guy, but he was running like a terrified deer. Jason pumped his arms harder and put everything into his legs. He started gaining. As his legs began to throb with exertion, Jason dove, catching Badger's feet in a shoestring tackle. The big man went down with a heavy thud, the wind rushing out of his lungs.

  Jason quickly clambered over Badger's back and spun him over. This time he was prepared for a fist to come his way, but Badger just lay on the ground whimpering, his eyes closed. Jason leaned forward, pressing his weight onto Badger's arms between the shoulders and elbows.

  "Badge, Badge, it's okay. It's all right," he said as the other cops thundered up behind him.

  "No, no, get away," Badger cried. "Leave me alone. Who are you? What do you want?"

  "It's me, Jason. It's Jazz. Calm down. You're safe."

  One of the cops shined a flashlight in Badger's face. His eyes squeezed shut more tightly and he shook his head from side to side. When his eyes opened, the glaze of fear was gone, but the confusion remained.

  "Huh? What… what's going on? Where am I?" he asked, bewildered.

  "You're behind the Snellville Civic Complex," Jason said.

  "What happened? What'd I do?"

  "You went a little nuts," Jason said. "Something scared the shit out of you. We heard you scream and came running back to see what happened."

  For a moment, Badger's face was blank as he tried to recall the past few minutes. Then memories flooded onto his face, turning the skin linen white. His lips trembled.

  "Get off me," he said in a strangled voice. "I'm gonna puke."

  Jason lifted his weight off Badger, who rolled onto his side, retching violently. Since he had thrown up just a few minutes before, nothing came up, and Badger suffered through a powerful attack of the dry heaves.

  When the spasms were over, he sat up and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. Then he held his sides and rocked from side to side.

  "Ah, God, that hurts," he said.

  "You okay?" Jason asked.

  "Yeah," he said in a low voice. "Yeah, I'll live."

  Badger looked at Jason, then scanned the other faces in the crowd around him. He turned his eyes back to Jason.

  "Listen, I found something over by the dumpster," Badger said. "A toy, some kind of stuffed animal. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the case."

  Jason gazed into Badger's eyes. There was something in them, something deeper than his friend was willing to say, at least in front of the other men. Jason almost felt Badger's plea to talk to him alone. He turned to the other cops. "Find that toy," he said. "But don't touch it before you call forensics."

  When the other cops left, he turned back to Badger. "So tell me what happened," he said.

  Badger reached into his pocket and drew out a Salem. He stuck it in his mouth and tried to light it, but his shaking hands made the flame dance spastically. Jason took the lighter away and lit the cigarette for him.

  Taking a deep drag, Badger sat silently for a few seconds. He drew his knees near his belly and wrapped his arms around them. Putting his head in the cradle formed by his knees, he stared at the ground. Finally, he looked up.

  "I'm not crazy," he said. "You're going to think I am when I tell you what happened, but I know what I felt… and heard."

  "So tell me," Jason said.

  "Well, I found that toy and picked it up to see what it was," Badger explained. "I had my gloves on so I wouldn't smudge any prints. But just picking the thing up gave me a real bad feeling, as if something mean was staring me in the face. I don't know what."

  He explained the tingle that ran up his arm and how he couldn't let go of the stuffed animal, but left out the part about the spider and the part about the eyes. Some things were too crazy.

  "When I dropped the thing, the feeling went away," Badger said. "So I picked it up again, and it was worse. And this time I heard someone speak. A horrible voice. It said, 'I see you.'"

  "Where did the voice come from?" Jason asked.

  "Nowhere. Everywhere," Badger said. "I think only I could hear it, as if it was meant only for me."

  "Describe the feeling you got when you picked the toy up," Jason asked.

  Badger hesitated, trying to form his emotions into words. Several times his lips parted as if to speak, then he held back.

  "I've never felt anything like that before in my life," he finally whispered. "It was evil. Burning. But cold, too. And full of hate. Pure hate."

  He stopped to look directly at Jason.

  "As if it was hating me just for being human," he whispered.

  Jason stared at Badger for a couple of seconds. He didn't doubt his friend thought he was telling the truth. It was too evident in his face. But it was too incredible to believe.

  What was it Sherlock Holmes said? A voice whispered inside his head. Something about the impossible?

  Jason stood up and walked a few yards away.

  "Hey, I'm telling you the truth," Badger said to Jason's back. "Don't you believe me?"

  "Yeah, I do," Jason said over his shoulder. "Dear God, I do," he said to himself.

  Jason walked about twenty yards. When he stopped, he tilted his head back and drew in a few deep breaths. The air was humid, but clean. The heat of the day had dissipated and the cool of the coming dawn was softening the air. He hoped it would help him think, sort things out, but it only served to make his confusion clearer.

  "So what do you think is going on?" Badger said, coming up behind. "Am I flipping out?"

  "Maybe so. You've always been pretty fucked up anyway," Jason said with a smile as he patted Badger on the back. The smile disappeared.

  "You know, it just might be true," Jason said. "At least in part. Maybe you have some sort of psychic ability that the killer has tapped into. Have you ever had any experience like this before? Something psychic or something you couldn't explain?"

  Badger shook his head.

  "Uh-uh. Never," he said.

  "Maybe the killer is psychic and is tapping into you without you're consciously being involved at all," Jason said. "I've read of it happening before."

  Jason stopped talking and looked at Badger.

  "God, that sounds crazy, doesn't it?" he said with a smile. "Am I reaching for straws or what?"

  The sound of footsteps broke into their conversation.

  "Detectives?" an officer said. Jason and Badger shot a glance at each other, then turned.

  "Yeah?" Badger said.

  "We couldn't find anything out behind the buildings," the officer said. "Nothing but some trash. No toys."

  "What kind of stuffed animal did you say that was?" Jason asked Badger.

  "I don't think I did," Badger said. "It was a frog."

  Arctic cold sped through Jason's veins.

  "A what?" he asked quietly.

  "A frog. A stuffed toy frog. It was kind of shabby looking, and one of its arms had been torn off and sewn back on badly. It was kind of cockeyed." He paused. "For some reason, it was familiar. I don't know why."

  Jason reeled. He gasped in an effort to catch his breath and could almost feel his ribs bulging out with each mammoth heartbeat. The world turned upside down and som
eone was shaking it by the ankles. Jason felt reality slipping away like coins falling from a pocket. He thought he might pass out.

  "Jazz, what's wrong with you?" Badger asked. "You look awful."

  Jason looked at his partner, but didn't speak. He couldn't. A frog. A toy frog with a crooked arm. Rufus? Badger must have been mistaken. It couldn't be. That frog was in the ground, next to Claire.

  He stopped his train of thought, couldn't bear to go any further.

  "Jazz?" Badger asked, putting his hand on his partner's shoulder. "What's wrong, man?"

  Jason began to speak, when a shout rose over the top of the buildings.

  "Jason! Badger! C'mere! Quick!" It was Norman Bibb.

  Both men ran toward the front lawn. A couple of times Jason's knees went rubbery and he thought he might fall, but he made it upright.

  Bibb stood next to the body, now wrapped in a heavy black tarp. A clear plastic bag dangled from Bibb's right hand and he held it up to his face, peering intently at it.

  As Jason and Badger approached, he held it up for them to see.

  "We got another note, just like Amanda," Bibb said. "This time it was attached directly to the boy under his jacket, and it came with a little present."

  Inside the plastic bag, the note was pinned to a ragged stuffed animal, a frog with a crooked arm.

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  "Brethren," the note began:

  Once again, I have served my Lord, sustained his glory and done battle with his enemy. In a shrine of man's Tainted House of Sin-filled Pretenders, built blasphemously near the house of God, I have taken one more soul from Satan and delivered it to heaven. I have spit on the scourge of man's folly. There is only one Lord and Master, one divine governing body. The world is unclean. The children are carrying the plague. The disease must be eradicated. It is my duty and my honor. I will not stop until my work is complete.

  It was signed: "Under God's Command, The Mercy Killer."

  "Buzz found it pinned to the frog," Bibb said, after Badger handed the note back to him. Standing next to Badger, Saunders nodded his agreement, but his attention was focused elsewhere. On Jason.