Brethren

by Shawn Ryan

  "Sonuvabitch," he said. "This guy needs an alignment something fierce. Two for two. Three for three if that typewriter matches."

  Jason looked at his watch under the streetlight About three minutes had passed. He quickly walked back to his car and grabbed the radio microphone and recited Badger's ID number.

  A few seconds later, Badger spoke back.

  "Yo," he said.

  "Where are you?" Jason asked. "No names. Let's keep things tight."

  "I'm here at the rabbit's hutch," Badger said. "The rabbit's not come home yet."

  "I know," Jason said. "He's here at the J and A building. Listen, pal, I think we've got something hot, but I've got to get some samples back to the crime lab to be sure. We can't afford to let the rabbit out of our sight, so I'm calling for a patrol car to tail him. I'm betting he'll head home, but if he doesn't, I'll instruct the blue-and-white to call you and tell you where he goes. Got that?"

  "Gotcha."

  Jason signed off from Badger and radioed dispatch. "I need a patrol car at the J and A and I need it now, like yesterday," he said. Within thirty seconds a yellow-and-white county car roared into the parking lot and stopped next to Jason's car. Rolling down his window, Jason instructed the officer to tail Benton's Chevrolet, but he didn't give any names.

  "Not too close. We don't want him to know we're keeping an eye on him," Jason said. "When he gets to wherever he's going, radio Badger and fill him in. Don't make too much radio noise on this one; use Badger's ID number, not his name. We want to keep everything kind of quiet for right now. Refer to the suspect as the rabbit. Got it?"

  On the way back to headquarters, Jason thought about his promise to talk to Bradley and the other reporters, but decided he'd handle that later. He radioed the dispatcher again and told her to call the crime lab. "They've all gone home, Jason," she said.

  "Well tell them to get back down there," he said. "No excuses. I want them there."

  When he got back to headquarters, several technicians already had arrived, including Norman Bibb. "I heard your call over the scanner," Bibb said. "You sounded serious. What have you got?"

  Jason handed him the dollar bill and explained what was in it. Bibb took the bill and walked back into the lab. "It'll take a couple of minutes to prepare this," he said. "Go get a cup of coffee or something. I'll call you when it's ready."

  Jason had finished his first cup of coffee and was pacing about outside the lab with a fresh one when Bibb stuck his head in the door. "C'mere," he said.

  "We've got an exact match," Bibb said, positioning himself on the stool in front of the electron microscope. "There's no doubt this paint came from the same car that backed into the dumpster. The microscopic patterns are exact. That only happens with paint that's been sprayed on the same car at the same time."

  Jason peered into the microscope. All he saw was a wild array of slopes and valleys, like the landscape of an alien planet. "You're absolutely sure?" he asked.

  "No doubt in my mind," Bibb said. "Besides, we fed samples of both paints into the chemical spectography computer and it came up exact, too. Complete with the same road debris and deterioration spectrum. I'd say you've got your guy."

  "Not yet," Jason said. "This is only a piece of the puzzle, but it's enough to bring someone in for questioning. Package these up and write down your findings. I'm going to call Silverman."

  It was almost eleven when Jason got Silverman on the phone.

  "I'll be damned," Silverman said when Jason explained the situation.

  "I want to bring Benton in for questioning," Jason said.

  "Hell, yes, bring him in. Go get him this second. I'm on my way down."

  Jason sprinted to the dispatcher's office and grabbed the microphone. He called Badger.

  "Right here," Badger's voice crackled over the radio. "I'm sitting at the end of the street. The rabbit came right home to his hole and stayed there."

  "I'm on my way," Jason said. "Make sure the rabbit stays put."

  Snatching his jacket off the hook in his office, Jason flew out the back door of headquarters. He hit the door with such force, it slammed into the brick wall behind, sending several chips of brick flying.

  Twenty minutes later he pulled in behind Badger's car, which was parked on a side street in clear view of Benton's home. Jason quietly opened his door and walked to Badger's rolled-down window, pulling on his jacket as he walked.

  "He came straight home from the J and A," Badger said. "I was sitting right here when he pulled in. The cherry top radioed me a minute or so later to confirm that Benton didn't make any side trips. I sent the unit back on patrol, but told him to hang loose, we might need him again.

  "He went into the basement a few minutes ago," Badger continued. "I saw the lights come on through the windows. I guess he's still down there because the lights still are on."

  "Let's go get him," Jason said.

  "Aren't you calling for backup?" Badger asked.

  "Not yet. I don't think we'll need them. And I don't want a lot of noise over the radio. No need to let everybody in the world in on our little secret."

  "That's completely against procedure."

  "You didn't see him tonight. He looked sicker than shit. I don't think he could put up a fight even if he wanted to. If he does, you and I can handle him."

  "Not if he's got a shotgun in his hands," Badger said. "I think we need some backup."

  "No," Jason said, a bit more harshly than he intended. "This is our collar, our case. We're the ones catching the heat for this. Let us be the ones to ice it down."

  "Goddammit, he's killed five kids. Anyone who'd do that is capable of anything," Badger argued. "You're still keyed up over Quintard's bullshit tonight. You're wanting to show him up and it's fucking with your head. I want about a hundred cops standing behind me with riot guns and Smith and Wessons aimed at Benton's scrawny little body. I'm not ready to die. I've got two kids, a mortgage and—"

  The sound of a car engine firing up stopped the argument. The garage door of Benton's home moved up its automatic opener and gray-blue exhaust fumes rolled from underneath. When the door stopped rising, the backup lights of Benton's Chevrolet came on.

  "Where's he going?" Jason said.

  "Get in; we'll follow."

  Benton backed out of his driveway, turned right at the end of his street, and headed directly at Jason and Badger. They ducked as his headlights speared their cars. He drove past without stopping.

  "Do you think he saw us? Recognized our cars?" Badger asked.

  Jason shrugged. "Didn't seem to."

  As Jason climbed in, Badger flipped the ignition switch and put the car into drive, cutting a U-turn and heading after Benton. They stayed well back, but if Benton knew they were there, he didn't let on. He made no sudden moves to lose them, took no roundabout, multi-turn routes to throw them off the track. He just drove.

  And drove.

  And drove.

  For more than an hour he meandered around Gwinnett, taking side roads, main highways, interstates. He never stopped, never pulled in anywhere.

  "Man, I can't figure what this guy's up to," Badger said. "Either he's out driving for a breath of fresh air, or he's lost his mind and doesn't know where he's at."

  "Look, he's pulling in," Jason said.

  They were driving east down Pleasant Hill Road and Benton's right blinker was on. He turned into the driveway of Berkmar High School.

  "What's with this guy and schools?" Badger wondered out loud.

  "Turn in here," Jason said, pointing at the entrance to a two-story, Colonial-looking office building a few hundred yards away from Berkmar's entrance. "Let's wait here and see if he comes back out."

  Five minutes passed. Benton didn't return.

  "He's up to something," Jason said. "Let's find out what. We'll cut through the woods on foot." His door was open before Badger could say anything.

  "Wait a second, I want backup," Badger called out the window.

  "No time," Ja
son said. "Suppose he's got a kid in the car?" Then he was off and running.

  "Shit, shit, shit," Badger grumbled and got out.

  The two cut around the office building and headed up the slight slope to the woods behind. Tall grass brushed at their pants cuffs and cockleburrs stuck to their jackets. The ground still was wet from the recent rain, hiding the sound of their footsteps. There were no lights, making it impossible to see any holes or ditches and both men stumbled several times before reaching the trees.

  Pushing their way through the sticky, prodding needles of the Southern pines, they soon reached the heart of the trees. Tall oaks and elms stood silently as Jason and Badger brushed past. Scrub pines and ferns growing from the moist ground tugged at their pants legs and left drops of dew on their shoes. The pair moved quickly toward the school.

  As they neared the edge of the woods, light spilled in from the streetlamps in the school's parking lot. The tungsten lamps gave an eerie, otherwordly glow to the woods. Strange shadows leaped about as the light hit gnarled branches and thick needles of the trees. The light refracted off the slight fog rising from the mulch-covered ground. The night grew chillier and plumes of their breath spread out milkily among the trees. They inched forward until they were just inside the shadowy blackness of the woods. Jason stopped and put his right hand back, telling Badger to stop.

  They stopped about twenty yards from the tennis courts, which sat tucked away in a secluded parking lot far off to one side of the school. Benton's car was parked next to the fenced-in courts.

  From where they stood, Jason and Badger had an unobstructed view of the car.

  And Benton.

  He was dressed all in black, including a black nylon stocking on his head, and he walked toward the back of the car. He stopped at the trunk, reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a pair of surgical gloves, which he tugged onto his hands. Then he unlocked the trunk and leaned over, lifting something out. When he turned around, a large form wrapped in black plastic was cradled in the crooks of his arms.

  "Oh fuck," Badger said. "Not again."

  Jason reached under his left arm and drew his Ruger 9mm from its holster. He popped out the clip and checked its load. Thirteen rounds, completely full. He shoved the clip back in and slid a round into the chamber, then flicked off the safety.

  Badger pulled out his .357 magnum and flipped out the cylinder. All six ports were full. He patted his jacket pocket, making sure his three speed loaders were inside.

  "Let's go get this bastard," Jason said. "Stay inside the trees until we're right on top of him. I want the shadows to hide us. And be careful you don't step on anything."

  Between the branches, they kept an eye on Benton as they moved closer.

  Slinging the limp form over his right shoulder, Benton moved away from the car and toward the tennis courts' gate. He moved with a noticeable bounce in his step, as if out for a brisk bit of exercise. Jason thought he heard music and couldn't figure out where it was coming from until he realized Benton was whistling.

  "The motherfucker's doing 'Whistle While You Work,'" Badger whispered.

  Striding to the nets at center court, Benton dumped the body on the ground and squatted next to it. Taking a knife from one of his pockets, he sliced the plastic off, beginning at the feet and cutting toward the head. Within seconds, the scalpel-edged blade neatly sliced the bag open. Benton pulled the plastic off as if he were peeling a banana. He continued to whistle.

  Jason and Badger emerged silently from the woods, only ten feet from the courts. Pistols drawn, they walked lightly to the fence. Jason reached out with his left hand and grabbed the gate, then flung it open, making it crash loudly into the fence.

  "Freeze, Benton!" he shouted. "Don't twitch; don't cough; don't talk."

  But Benton didn't freeze. He didn't even jump at the sound. He simply continued to peel off the plastic.

  "Just a minute," he said over his shoulder in a musical voice. "I'm almost done."

  Jason moved to Benton's left while Badger swung out to get on his right. Both pistols were aimed directly at Benton's back.

  "There are two pistols aimed at you, Benton," Jason said. "Stop what you're doing, stand up and turn around with your hands in the air."

  "Okey dokey," Benton said. "I'm done now."

  He stood up and turned around. Behind him, the body of a four-foot Raggedy Andy doll rested against the nets. Benton locked his hands behind his head. He smiled, the light glinting off a mouthful of razor teeth and eyes that burned silver.

  "Surprise, Jason," Benton said, his voice a razor's hiss.

  Jason felt his heart freeze into a solid glacier. That voice. Those eyes. He had seen them in his bedroom, almost a week ago. He stared at Benton with horror.

  "Benton?" he whispered, although he knew that wasn't whom he was talking to.

  "Oh, I suppose you can use that name if you wish," Benton answered. "But don't you know who I am, Jason? Or are you truly that dense?"

  "Jason, what the fuck's going on here?" Badger asked uncertainly.

  Jason didn't answer. He just stared at Benton.

  "So it's been you the whole time," he said.

  "Well, I can't take all the credit. Let's just say I convinced this little human here to do things he wouldn't think of himself, but was quite capable of doing. His mind is a very dark place; that's why I chose him. I just planted the seeds in his brain, gave him a little nudge, a little help here and there. He did the rest. And I must say, I was impressed at how very good he was at it."

  "Where's Benton now?" Jason asked.

  "Oh, he's in here, with me. I've just taken charge for the moment. Something I generally do when there's work to be done."

  "So it was all to get at me," Jason said. "Five children killed, just to get at me. Wouldn't one have sufficed?"

  "Well, it wasn't all for you," Benton said. "I used their blood for my own purposes. You see, this place causes me pain, even when I'm borrowing someone else's body. The blood helps… oh, how to say it?… it helps anesthetize me. I promise to show you what I mean in more detail later.

  "Besides, I was having so much fun. And I needed something to get your attention. To distract you from learning about your powers, from reaching your full potential. You'd have been more dangerous. As it is, I'm merely looking forward to playing with you before I kill you.

  "So here we are. My plan obviously worked. Although I certainly expected it would. It's taken me almost twenty-five of your years to put it in motion."

  Benton shrugged.

  "But now I think it's time for the real passion play to begin," he said. "Don't you?"

  Why, why, why? Jason's mind whirled. Why was Moloch standing here in Benton's body, so unconcerned with what was happening? He must know that with one wrong move, he would be pumped full of bullets. Why was he approaching everything so cavalierly… unless he wanted to die?

  "Jason, talk to me," Badger said, his pistol still aimed at Benton. "What's happening? What's with his eyes? His teeth? Why is he talking in that strange voice? What is he talking about?"

  "Oh, do be quiet," Benton said, turning his head to Badger. "I dare say you'll find out quickly enough."

  The smile vanished from Benton's face as he whipped his right hand from behind his head. A tiny Beretta in his hand fired, the bullet nicking Badger in the cheekbone. Badger flung himself to the ground and rolled over, coming up on his elbows with his pistol pointed at Benton's chest.

  The implications suddenly were crystal clear to Jason.

  "Nooooooo," he cried. "Don't shoot! It's what he wants!"

  Badger's pistol barked six times; each round slammed into Benton's chest like a mule kick. The hollow-point slugs ripped into Benton's chest, then left grapefruit-sized exit marks in his back. Bits of bone and organs spewed onto the court. Blood spurted from Benton's ruined chest, staining the black fabric of his clothes an even darker hue. The gun flew out of his hand and clattered onto the asphalt several feet away.

&n
bsp; Benton staggered backward even after Badger quit firing, then flopped onto the net, blood trailing down the threads, leaving a crimson checkerboard. His body slipped slowly to the ground and rolled onto its back, arms spread out.

  Jason and Badger rushed to the body, already lying in a pool of blood the size of a mattress. Pistols pointed at the twitching form, the two dropped to their knees. Benton still was alive and raised his head.

  "Thank you. Thank you for ending it," he gurgled, blood bubbling out of his mouth and onto his cheeks. Although distorted, his voice had returned to normal. "You don't know what's it's been like. You cant know what it's been like."

  His eyes closed and his head lolled over to one side.

  "I guess this is over," Badger said. "Looks as if we really didn't need any backup. I guess you were—"

  Benton's body sat up, slinging blood into Jason's and Badger's faces. The dead man's eyes sprang open. Malevolence blazed from silver eyes.

  "Yes," the mouth said in a guttural hiss. "Thank you for ending it, so a new beginning can start."

  The body cackled as it slumped backward, landing with a mushy thump. A tiny whirlwind sprang to life in the middle of Benton's chest, sucking the blood on his body into a vortex, then slinging it in widening circles. Jason and Badger scuttled backward to avoid being drenched.

  The cyclone grew larger, engulfing Benton's body and the pool of blood it lay in. The suction became enormous, dragging Jason and Badger into it. They crawled desperately to the fence, dropping their guns so they could latch on with all fingers. The pull became harder, their legs stretching out straight, then their torsos. Fingers howled in agony as the metal of the fence cut into them.

  Not much longer, Jason thought. I can't last much longer.

  Suddenly, the wind stopped. Jason and Badger flopped face first to the ground, Jason's nose slamming hard into the pavement. Blood dripping from his nose, he raised his head and looked slowly over his shoulder. He wished he hadn't. A ten-foot, blood-red chrysalis stood in the center of Benton's chest. The chrysalis expanded and contracted like a huge, living lung.