Lunatic Times Two: 4 (The Lunatic Life Series)

by Sharon Sala

  Pat’s eyes filled with tears.

  Nate handed him a card. “This has my number. Call me when she’s home.”

  Pat watched him make a run for his car and drive off. When he went back to the kitchen, Mona was frying bacon.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “That geology professor from the college. You remember him, right?”

  “Nate Pierce? Yes, I remember him.”

  Pat got out a loaf of bread for the toaster. “He’s a great guy, but he obviously lives with one foot in the white man’s world and the other in his native culture. He said he was going back to tell the others to start the drumming, and something about Old Ones.”

  Mona paused. “Then he’s doubly blessed. Not all of us are as connected to our ancestors as is the Native American.”

  “Tara is. She has a hot line to all of them, whether she likes it or not.”

  Just her name on his lips choked him up. He turned away, unable to say more.

  AS SOON AS Rutherford left the snow-covered road to turn onto Highway 51, he hit the lights and siren and stomped the gas.

  Pop slopped out of the can onto the legs of Flynn’s jeans, but he didn’t care. He was focused on Tara, listening for the sound of her voice.

  TARA GLANCED AT the clock on the dashboard of the truck. It was nearly six. It wouldn’t be long before sunrise. She hoped it got light before they found a place to stop. She’d have a better chance of giving him directions.

  Marsh was dozing up front, high on speed he’d taken in an effort to dull the pain of the wound in his shoulder. Dig was snoring in the seat beside Tara, leaving her and Vince the only two awake. She caught the man looking at her more than once in the rearview mirror, but couldn’t tell by his expression if he was of a mind to cut her throat or let her go. When she caught him staring, she stared back until he was the one forced to look away.

  Her gaze shifted to the faint glow of headlights on the dark highway. She shuddered and made herself focus on anything but the choking fear of her situation.

  Within seconds, she heard Vince curse and caught a glimpse of flashing lights in the rearview mirror a distance behind them. Her heart leaped. The OHP had found them. Thank God.

  “Marsh! Wake up!” Vince yelled, and gave him a sharp jab on the shoulder. “It’s the cops! They’re coming up behind us.”

  Marsh woke up with a curse and a groan as Dig turned to look.

  “Maybe he’s just running hot toward a wreck or something. Maybe he’s not coming after us,” Dig said.

  Tara didn’t want that to be the case.

  Flynn! We’re still on Highway 51, and there’s a highway patrol car a good distance behind us. Did he make us, or is he on his way to somewhere else?

  Don’t know. I’ll check.

  “Are you willing to take that chance?” Vince yelled. “Say the word, Marsh! What do we do?”

  Marsh was just drugged up enough to be dangerous. “Turn off the lights! Now!”

  Tara gasped. OMG, no!

  Vince freaked. “Are you crazy?”

  “Turn off the damn lights!” Marsh screamed.

  Vince hit the switch, and all of a sudden they were in darkness, flying into the night without a guide.

  Dig lowered his head, closed his eyes, and started praying for mercy.

  “Stop! Stop! You’re going to kill us,” Tara shouted.

  What’s happening? What’s happening?

  Overwhelmed by panic, Tara couldn’t focus enough to answer Flynn.

  Marsh was on his knees, looking out the back. The patrol car was still coming.

  “Faster!” Marsh shouted. “We have to stay far enough ahead of the cop’s headlights, or he’ll see us anyway.”

  Vince stomped the accelerator.

  It was like being launched into the darkness of outer space. All of a sudden there was no sense of speed or place, just the whistle of air and the thump and whine of tires on the icy pavement.

  When they went airborne, Tara screamed.

  Marsh was braced for a crash, and Dig was crying loudly.

  Vince had a death grip on the steering wheel, as if he could control what was happening by the strength of his grip alone.

  When the impact came, it was not what any of them expected. They cleared a bar ditch with a bone-jarring thump and drove straight through a barbed wire fence into a snow-covered pasture.

  “No brakes, no brakes! They’ll see the lights,” Marsh screamed.

  Vince’s jaw was set as he did a 180 to the right, turning the truck completely around until they were facing the highway with a front-row seat to the patrol car still a quarter of a mile behind.

  Tara was so elated to still be breathing that she didn’t even care when the cop flew past without stopping, but Marsh and Vince were shouting with glee, giving each other a high-five that they’d escaped arrest.

  “I think I peed my pants,” Vince muttered.

  “Turn the lights back on, and let’s get the hell out of here,” Marsh said.

  Tara! Tara! What the hell is happening?

  We ran off the road into a pasture, but the cop lost us. He’s gone.

  The headlights highlighted their situation, as well as a half-dozen head of cattle thirty yards to their left. They seemed to be staring curiously at what had appeared in their midst.

  “Look at that! If we’d driven into that herd, we’d be toast,” Vince said.

  Dig was still crying.

  “Dig! Shut the hell up. We’re fine,” Marsh said.

  “We’re not fine,” Dig shouted. “We’re criminals on the run, and you’re going to get us killed.”

  Marsh’s voice lowered menacingly. “I said, shut up.”

  Dig swiped the snot off his lip with the back of his hand, and sat up straighter.

  Vince glanced up in the rearview mirror at Tara.

  She lifted her chin.

  He looked away, put the truck in gear and slipped and slid their way out of the pasture and back onto the highway.

  Marsh slapped his leg and then winced when motion hurt his shoulder, but he was bugged by the fact that the girl was so calm.

  “So, ghosty girl, what do you have to say about that fine piece of maneuvering?” he asked.

  “That the cows are going to get out.”

  Marsh’s smirk ended. “Bitch,” he muttered.

  It put a damper on the high of their car chase, and the adrenaline crash afterward ended their chatter.

  Only after the danger of a wreck was over did Tara let go of her emotions. She was shaking so hard it was difficult to draw breath. Tears were blurring her vision, and her hands were clutched into fists.

  Never let them see you cry.

  Tara jumped. Millicent! OMG! I can finally hear you, too!

  You had to let go of the pain. The panic did it.

  Is Flynn close to me?

  Not close, but coming.

  Marshall is going to kill me. I saw it in my sleep.

  This isn’t over. Stop expecting the worst. Look ahead. Tell Flynn what you see.

  Tara looked through the windshield and saw lights. Flynn, I can see lights. We’re coming up on some kind of city, but it can’t be Tulsa. Not enough lights.

  Got that. Hang on.

  There were a few moments of silence as she waited.

  Rutherford said it might be Mannford. We are nearly an hour behind you.

  Oh no.

  No. It’s okay. We’re running hot, lights and sirens. We’ll make up the time soon.

  Tara leaned back in the seat, her eyes burning from lack of sleep and the dull thud of the headache still pounding relentlessly. And just when she was at another low point, Henry popped up in the seat between her and Dig.

  She gasped and then smiled. Henry kissed her soundly on the cheek, making the whole side of her face tingle smartly, then promptly punched Dig in the nose.

  Dig woke up with a grunt, brushing at his nose in confusion. “What happened?” he muttered.

  Tar
a was staring out the window on her left.

  Dig frowned. “Hey. What did you do to me?”

  She frowned. “Nothing.”

  “Somebody poked me in the nose.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  Henry winked at Tara and then did it again.

  Dig’s head bobbed back against the window with a thunk. Although it had happened again, this time he’d been looking straight at the girl, and her arms were folded across her chest, her hands tucked beneath them for warmth.

  Vince looked up in the rearview mirror. “What’s going on back there?”

  Dig plastered himself against the other side of seat, as far away from Tara as he could get. “Something is poking me in the face.”

  Vince looked at Tara. “Are you crazy, girl?”

  “It’s not me, and he knows it.”

  Dig’s eyes were wide and fixed on Tara. “She didn’t do it. I was watching her.”

  Marsh grunted. “Stop whining. Are you bleeding?”

  “No.”

  “Then shut up.”

  Henry slapped Vince on the back of the head.

  “Hey!” Vince said, and then swerved sharply when he realized he’d almost run off the road.

  Tara rolled her eyes. “Henry, stop playing with them, or they’ll wreck and kill us all.”

  “Who’s Henry?” Vince asked.

  “My other ghost.”

  Dig went ballistic. “Oh shit, oh no, oh dang it, Vince. Let’s go home. I wanna go back to Toronto. This was a crazy plan anyway.”

  Marsh felt the same way, but they had a problem. She knew what they looked like, and they’d be on the run the rest of their lives if they just let her go and ran. He didn’t have the stomach for murder, but he knew it was coming to that. He turned and looked at Tara. “You’re getting better, aren’t you? I mean, you can do your psychic thing again now?”

  “It’s coming back, yes,” Tara said.

  “Good. As soon as we get settled, you contact O’Mara’s spirit and find out what he did with that money.”

  “I can only try. I told you before that he doesn’t know me or owe me anything.”

  “Hey, isn’t this our turn?” Vince asked, pointing to a lighted billboard on their left.

  Tara looked. It was a turnoff to the lake.

  Flynn. Brush Creek. Three miles west of Mannford on 51. North on 151.

  I heard you. Stay with me, baby.

  Just don’t lose me.

  Never.

  “It’s a good thing we went sightseeing last week,” Marsh said, and then moaned. “Damn, my shoulder hurts.”

  The noose was tightening, and Tara knew it. They obviously had another destination in mind, and once they got stopped, her fate was in question. If and when she got anything out of Michael O’Mara they would consider her a liability and get rid of her.

  We’re both here. Hang rough.

  It’s hang tough, Millicent.

  Whatever, just hang with us, honey. We’ve got your butt.

  Tara stifled a grin.

  That’s back . . . you say, we’ve got your back, not butt.

  Tara heard a slight pop. Millicent had tuned out, but knowing they were close gave her courage.

  There was a faint glow in the east, a reminder that night was giving way to the inevitable sunrise. She could see just enough of the pristine beauty of untracked snow to think that the heavily wooded area had a fairy tale appearance. If felt weird to be in so much danger in such a beautiful place.

  “How far do I go?” Vince asked.

  Marsh was swigging down a handful of some kind of pills with what was left of the beer in his can.

  Tara hoped it was an overdose that would either knock him out or kill him. She wasn’t picky.

  “Just keep driving until I tell you different,” Marsh mumbled.

  “Then stop popping pills, or you’ll pass out and I still won’t know,” Vince snapped.

  Marsh glared.

  Tara shifted; her long legs were aching from being cooped up so long. When she moved, Dig jumped like he’d been slapped again, and then pulled himself into the far corner of the back seat and put his hand over his face, just in case.

  Tara mentally counted off the miles at every section line.

  Flynn, we’ve gone a little more than three miles north so far.

  I hear you.

  Wait! We’re turning, west. Look for a pair of tall pines at the mailbox. It’s a narrow one-lane road with fences on both sides.

  Got it. Keep talking to me.

  Tara kept waiting, but the road went on for almost a mile before an outbuilding appeared. It was the back of an old barn. As they came around the curve she could see the house.

  Long road to the house. You’ll see an old barn first and then an A-frame log cabin. It looks empty. Oh God.

  What?

  I have a bad feeling.

  No. No. We’re close. Keep the faith. We’re coming.

  “We’re here, boys and girls,” Vince drawled.

  Tara’s heart was hammering as they opened the doors. She unfolded her legs, wincing as she swung them down, then out of the truck.

  Marsh pointed at her. “Grab her arm. I don’t want her trying to run.”

  “Let me go,” Tara muttered, and yanked her arm free. “The only place I want to go is to a bathroom.”

  Marsh started to argue, but the moment they touched her, a whirlwind came up out of the snow behind him like a genie out of a bottle, and once again, he was being battered, this time by icy pellets.

  “Get her inside!” he yelled, and made a run for the cabin.

  The first time he’d come here, he’d made a point of finding a way in and leaving the front door unlocked. If it was still unlocked, it was his clue that no one had been here.

  It swung inward with ease, and he slammed it shut behind them. The blast of snow hit the front of the cabin as soon as they slammed the door, and then it was over.

  Dig was crying all over again, but this time no one was yelling at him. Even Marsh looked rattled. There was no way to fight something that didn’t exist in the physical form.

  The interior of the A-frame was all one big room with a staircase that led up to a landing on the second floor.

  Still rattled from what happened outside, Marsh pointed a finger in Tara’s face. “Tell that damn ghost to stop or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Tara asked. “The last time you made me bleed, she nearly cut your throat. You ready for a second round?”

  “Damn it!” Marsh yelled, and then slammed his fist into the back of an old leather chair.

  “Does anybody know where the bathroom is?” Tara asked.

  “Take her down the hall and stand outside the door.” He pointed at Tara. “You have one minute.”

  Worn out and ready for all of this to be over, Tara reacted in disgust. “Are you going to kill me?”

  All three men stopped in their tracks.

  “Well? Are you? Because if you are, then do it and get it over with. I’m tired and I’m sick and I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. And I need more than a minute inside that bathroom. Figure the rest out for yourself.”

  She stomped off down the hall without waiting for an escort, opened one door which turned out to be a closet, kept going until she found the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her when she went inside.

  “What the hell are we going to do with her?” Dig muttered. “She’s not scared of any of us. Her ghosts are playing hell with my nerves and will likely kill us all if you lay a hand on her.”

  “They can’t kill us,” Marsh muttered.

  A framed picture of an elk flew off the wall and hit Marsh in the back of the head before anyone could warn him what was happening. Once again, glass shattered as he dropped to the floor, moaning.

  Dig made a run for the front door, and although they’d just come inside, it wouldn’t open. He spun, screaming, “Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me! I won’t touch her, I swear.”<
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  Vince pulled Marsh up from the floor and sat him on the sofa. “I suggest you keep your mouth shut and your threats to yourself,” Vince said nervously.

  “Am I bleeding?” Marsh cried.

  “Not enough to die from,” Vince said.

  Tara heard the commotion, which served her purpose even better. As soon as she used the bathroom, she began searching through the drawers for something to use as a weapon, but they were empty. The dull ache in her head was a monotonous throb as she walked out.

  When she saw the picture on the floor and the fresh blood on the back of Marsh’s coat, she gave Millicent a mental high five.

  “Did either of you bring the aspirin? My head is hurting.”

  Dig dug the bottle out of his coat pocket and tossed it to her.

  She shook a couple out, set the bottle on a table, and headed toward the open area to the kitchen to look for a glass.

  Vince was tired of her and her spook traveling companions and fed up with Marshall Story in so many ways he couldn’t count, but he wasn’t in a position to challenge Marsh, so he took it out on her.

  “You are the brassiest female it has ever been my experience to meet. Technically, you are our prisoner, and yet you are strolling around here like Martha effing Stewart. Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

  Tara didn’t answer.

  Chapter Nine

  BEFORE ALLEN COULD get feedback from the OHP, the cop had lost them and was long gone.

  After Flynn got the latest clues from Tara about turning off of 51 onto 151 at the Brush Creek sign, they changed their plan and called the Creek County Sheriff and gave them the directions.

  “They are dispatching units now, but they cover the entire county with very few patrol cars, so any chance of a timely response is not high,” Allen said, as he disconnected.

  “Oh my God, please don’t let this end bad,” Flynn whispered.

  Rutherford felt the frustration and fear as much as Flynn. Tara had come through for them so many times. He didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if they let her down.

  “We haven’t lost her. Just keep feeding me info, kid.”