by Chris Keane
The town was pitch black and quiet, full of residents who had fallen asleep to the world long ago. Once Dante hit the highway, he floored it. The cops had bigger problems than speeding, and he needed to get to the scene of the accident before the doctor pulled away.
As he came up on Hopewell Pass, Dante spotted a red Cabriolet convertible crashed out on the side of the road, but he didn’t see any sign of the girl. Gram’s Nova whined like its engine was about to burst, but the car didn’t quit. Dante caught the glimmer of a pair of tail lights disappearing in the distance. There was no way of knowing whether it was Doctor Sewall’s Saab, but it was the first car he had seen on the actual road. Dante knew he had to follow those lights.
The road straightened out, and Dante was able to identify the doctor’s Saab. His heart leapt with excitement. But on the next curve, a nasty one, Dante hit the brakes, fearing that the Nova would whip off the road.
When Dante finally pulled out of the turn, he saw nothing but empty road in front of him. The good doctor must have peeled off the road somewhere.
Desperate, Dante pulled over onto the narrow dirt-covered edge of the woods. He got out, leaving the car running. Dante had to do some running himself. His throat immediately burned in the cool night air, but once he got moving he felt an odd burst of energy. Still, it was too dark to spot anything. He figured he would appear insane to any outside observer. Maybe he was.
After searching the area for nearly an hour on foot, he circled back to the car and clicked on his high beams. Dante slow-rolled his car down the road. His eyes, dilated to the size of flying saucers, scanned back and forth across the road like a radar. Any hint of something out of the ordinary made his body tense up; he figured his current location would be ideal for paranormal activity. But then whatever he thought he saw would disappear with no other evidence of its existence, other than the workings of his paranoid brain.
It was eerily quiet. Officer Lefler’s police scanner had gone silent minutes ago. Dante fiddled with the dial, but the battery was dead. Out of the corner of his eye, Dante spotted some gravel — the edge of another road. He did a K-turn and pulled on.
The uneven road was giving the Nova’s damaged shock system fits. He killed the engine, figuring he might need a functional car to get him home. He hopped out and popped the trunk. In a non-descript gray bag were the items he had picked up at the spiritual shop in town. He quickly slipped some healing stones and the vial of holy water into his pocket. Along with a gold cross, he dangled the garlic and some other foul-smelling herbs around his neck. He grabbed a flashlight and the shopkeeper’s worn leather Bible out of the back seat, and started walking.
Stray shadows, crackling leaves, and primal cries from the woods sent chills down Dante’s spine. Were they coming from animals or someone or something else? It was unreal. Dante felt like he was watching the whole thing transpire on television. This could not be Dante Elton traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night, hunting down the bad guy. It had to be some sort of nightmare.
Fantasy turned into reality, when he came up on Dr. Sewall’s parked Saab. Scanning the area, he found another even more treacherous path. He took it, heading straight up the side of the mountain.
The yellow cone of his flashlight caught something odd, that looked to be a cave entrance. Dante stood there like a stone, just thinking. There was no way of knowing if Gram was there; she could have just as easily been wandering around the neighborhood again, submerged at the bottom of a lake, or lost in the woods somewhere. But Doctor Sewall clearly was there — and up to no good.
Dante stood frozen in the darkness. Mustering up the courage to move forward was going to require some mental jiu jitsu. He pictured Angie: her smile, her gorgeous red locks, that hourglass figure. He loved the sound of her voice, her laugh, her no-holds-barred way of dealing with the world. But most of all, he loved the way she made him feel. Since she had vanished from his life, it had become an empty shell. Dante was scared shitless of what Dr. Sewall would do to him if he got boxed into a corner. But he was even more afraid of something bad happening to Angie. Dante needed to at least try to keep her safe. He would rather go down in flames than stumble through the world without her.
***
Something was really wrong. Angie’s dad had been out of touch for days. The office was getting flooded with calls from sick people that had millions of questions. Appointments were cancelled, procedures delayed. More worrisome, he had failed to return her own many phone calls. At first, she just had questions about running the office. But as more time passed, her messages became more urgent.
Angie stood behind her father’s oak desk, staring at a sea of bills and invoices. The sight was enough to make her ill. She could grow old sifting through her father’s carnage, his disorganization the type stereotypically associated with genius. Now she was looking for some clues to his whereabouts. Her father’s notes, with some of the worst penmanship Angie had ever laid eyes on, filled stacks of coffee-stained notebooks. At first, it looked like the ramblings of a recovering crack addict. But eventually she saw something that caught her attention: a small hand-drawn map along with some cryptic notes on an electric bill. She slipped it into the pocket of her cut-off jeans and turned on his PC.
The computer was practically empty, but that wasn’t surprising. Her father had always preferred paper records. She took a deep breath, and then clicked on his Internet History. Instantly, Angie felt her legs weaken and her heart race. Fearing a panic attack coming on, Angie sank further into her father’s chair, took a deep breath, and then chugged a bottle of water.
The majority of the websites were related to organ harvesting procedures complete with some of the most gruesome surgical shots she had ever seen. Further down, she found a crime blog that provided the most effective techniques to use in an abduction. He had also bought a huge supply of anesthetics and sedatives from a source not on Angie’s supplier list. She really wanted to smash the computer and hide underneath her comforter for days, but it wasn’t about only her anymore. Other people could be in danger.
Angie had always known her father had some unusual ideas about history and medicine. She knew of times that he had bent the rules, and even shattered a few, in the name of a greater good. There were even things he had said about his past that simply didn’t add up. But she was always too afraid to ask. After all, why rock the boat? They had always gotten along so well. And besides, her father could be very intimidating when he wanted to be. It was more than love that kept her close to house and home; it was also partly fear of what her father might do if she bailed on him.
Angie grabbed her cell phone from her bedroom and powered it up. Maybe her dad had left a message there instead? As her phone glowed to life, dozens of beeps broke the stark silence in her bedroom. Unfortunately, they were mostly from ex in Lake Placid. She couldn’t care less what he had to say, and wondered why she ever did in the first place. Her father, though, had left no messages.
Using a map application on her cell phone, Angie was able to decipher the location that her father had marked on his hand-drawn map. Unfortunately, there was no way to get there on foot. The unforgiving mountains had too many geographic barriers. The only way there was the highway; but walking down that narrow windy road in the dark was a death wish. Angie needed wheels. She threw a few essentials into a backpack, locked up, and flipped over the “Doctor Is Out” sign on her way out the door. He was clearly far from in.
With her father gone, there was really no one else to turn to but Dante. The one tiny problem was they weren’t speaking at all since the break-up. Dante hadn’t called on her for over a week; it was as if he had given up on things completely. But somewhere deep down, Angie believed that Dante still cared for her. Even if he was angry at her for dumping him, he might be willing to lend her Gram’s car. She sprinted through the woods, hoping to catch him at the ranch.
When Angie arrived she found the door wide open and the place littered with half-empty gl
asses, dirty plates, and papers scattered everywhere. But there was no sign of Dante or his grandmother. Dante’s bedroom was a veritable shrine to her father’s life story. Articles and printouts of old newspapers overflowed from the tiny bureau onto a faded hardwood floor.
His association with Salem and the fact that one of her very own relatives was buried down the road in town was news to her. He had always been fascinated with the awful trials, and it was definitely one of his “things”. Still, Angie had figured everyone had a thing they were a little too passionate about. But between the information she had just found on his computer, and Dante’s wall of news articles, Angie realized that her father was living a lie. She slammed the door, wondering if she really knew the man at all.
Out on the porch, Angie slipped on her backpack, carefully tightening its straps. She took a swig of water and headed towards the highway. Toward her father.
As Angie started to run down the road, a dark-colored sports car nearly ran her over. Before she even had time to scream, it screeched to a halt right in Gram’s driveway. She ran back towards the house where a Camaro idled in the driveway.
“Hey! Hey!” Angie screamed and flailed her arms, wildly. But whoever was in there had his head down, blaring rap music. He couldn’t even see her much less hear her.
Finally, a large muscular dude popped out of the car. He was hunchbacked and wide, with massive arms. His odd gait, rocking back and forth as he walked, reminded Angie of guys in prison films.
He kneeled at the hood of his car, massaging its dents with his hands with the gentle touch typically reserved for a newborn. He looked up at Angie, standing there in her tight black spandex top and cut-off jeans, confused. “Who are you?”
“I’m Angie,” she replied, plainly.
“Of course you are,” Kurt quipped, with a huge smile forming across his face. “Son of a bitch. My little bro did score big. You’re hot!”
“You must be Kurt,” Angie replied dryly.
“He mentioned me?” Kurt asked, flattered.
“Listen, I need a ride. Dante’s not around, can you take me? It’s real important.”
About two minutes in, Angie was thinking she would be better off walking. Kurt was all over the road. The car alignment was a mess, so he would constantly have to turn the wheel in order to keep them from careening into a tree. And Kurt wasn’t looking at the road much at all; he kept staring at Angie’s cleavage. She folded her arms across her chest hoping he would take a hint.
Angie’s heart sank as they wound their way up the mountain on the broken down road in an equally broken down car. They headed well past the sleepy town where she had spent her entire life, and into the pitch black boonies. Somehow, in her mind’s eye, she could picture the whole scene. Her father was there operating on his girlfriend, but it wasn’t going well at all. Dante and Gram were there too. That part didn’t make any sense. She felt bile creeping up her throat and swallowed hard. “Can you speed up please?”
“Aww. No one’s ever asked me that before!” Kurt snorted.
The Camaro jerked forward and Angie swore she saw some smoke billowing out of the engine. Whatever accident had damaged the hood must have also destroyed its radiator because the car was seriously overheating. There was nothing to do but hold on tight.
***
Dante emerged from the lab elevator on the verge of hyperventilating. The room was stark white and enormous. His eyes struggled to re-adjust, going from a dark elevator to endless tubes of fluorescents. Through thick iron doors, he could hear the whine of generators. What the hell is this place?
He crept around the corner into the next room. On the table, Gram lay topless next to another naked woman. They were both out cold.
Dante stopped dead in his tracks and buried his mouth into his palm. He studied Gram on the operating table, unable to believe it. Her thin white hair was askew. A white mask covered her face. An IV dangling awkwardly from her blood-caked arm pumped fluid into her frail arm.
Then Dante saw it; thick black magic marker circled on the right side of her chest. Dante stood there dumbstruck, watching, when Sewall appeared holding a mallet and a surgical saw. “What the fuck!”
Instinctively, Dante darted back to the elevator toward safety. He slammed the big red button, and the elevator doors opened smoothly. Dante stumbled in, curled his sweaty right hand into a fist and punched the wall. But as the cold metal doors were just about to close shut, Dante dove forward, extending his right arm.
The elevator doors tightened their grip on Dante’s arm, sending shooting pain through to his shoulder. Whatever safety features had made their way into commercial elevators didn’t exist in this industrial model. Dante pulled his arm so hard, it felt as if it was ripping from his shoulder. But it wouldn’t budge. With his free hand he blindly punched a few buttons until the door finally opened.
Dante ran back into the underground laboratory.
“By God…” Sewall uttered, as Dante rushed to his grandmother’s side.
“Gram! Gram!” he screamed. But she was unresponsive. He growled at Sewall. “Wake her up!”
“She’s not coming out of it,” Sewall said, dismissively. “Not at her age.”
Dante grabbed the fake doctor and looked him straight in the eyes. “Do it!”
Sewall looked condescendingly at Dante, shaking his head. “Calm down, son.”
“You sick fuck!” Dante swung his right arm, hitting Angie’s father with every bit of the anger and frustration he had been harboring since the day he woke up abandoned by his own parents. The shot landed, connecting solidly with Sewall’s jaw. Sewall grunted and stepped back, wiping blood from his mouth, surprised. Dante lunged at him and grabbed him around the throat squeezing with all his might. “Wake her up, NOW!”
Sewall, gasping for air, clawed at Dante’s hands futilely. Then, in one motion, he thrust his body forward, knocking Dante backwards onto the unforgiving tile floor. He held Dante down with one arm and grabbed for a hypodermic needle with the other, jabbing it into his neck as blood squirted everywhere.
“Ahhhhh!” Dante screamed. But before Sewall could hit the plunger, Dante bucked, sending the filled needle flying across the room.
Dante kicked and screamed, finally landing a foot directly in the doctor’s groin. Sewall doubled over in pain.
***
Angie shined her father’s camping flashlight back out of the cave, catching the silhouette of Kurt. As she had suspected, he hadn’t moved. He remained frozen at the mouth of the cave, like a deer caught in headlights. “Hurry up, Kurt!”
“What are those black balls hanging from the ceiling? Bats?” Kurt replied, concerned.
“They’re asleep. And they eat bugs. So move it!”
“What if you get bit? Do you start foaming at the mouth like Cujo or something?”
“Hurry up! Your brother needs you!”
“My brother needs me, or you need me?”
“Oh. Fuck it. Come if you want! I really don’t care, but you’re slowing me down. I have to leave. Right now!”
“Alright, alright,” Kurt mumbled as he charged into the cave after Angie, cursing like a sailor.
A minute later Angie heard a blood-curdling scream come from Kurt. Behind her, he rolled around on the ground, plucking spiders from his body. He pushed himself to his feet and bolted for the exit. His parting screams echoed through the cave as he disappeared from sight. Angie just took off running into the darkness.
Not far ahead, she spotted something strange. It looked like a glimmer of metal. As she got closer, she could see it was a very large elevator. She pressed her hands to its cool metal door. “Holy shit…” she muttered. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her father’s red cooler and a pile of fast food wrappers against the wall. This was it.
Angie emerged from the elevator to find her father and Dante wrestling around on the floor. A medical cabinet had been turned over, spilling surgical instruments onto the floor. On the table she saw Da
nte’s grandmother and her dad’s girlfriend, both nude.
“Dad?” Angie asked, her voice pale and thin.
As Sewall looked up at Angie, his expression changed from determined anger to shame as he released Dante from his grip. In that moment, Dante grabbed the hypodermic needle and jabbed it into the doctor’s arm squeezing the plunger hard.
Sewall winced in pain but never broke eye contact with his daughter. “Eh…I’m sorry Angie. I couldn’t lose her, I couldn’t go through that nightmare again,” Sewall said weakly before he passed out onto the floor.
Angie rushed over to Dante, “Oh my god! Are you okay? Are you all right?” She wrapped her arms around him as tears streamed down her face.
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m good now,” Dante said, firmly.
“You were right. You were right about everything.”
“I don’t want to be right. I want you.”
Angie grabbed Dante’s cheeks in her hands and whispered, “I’ve been lost without you…” Her lips enveloped his as she pressed herself up against his body hoping the moment was real, not imagined. She began devouring him with her mouth. Everything about Dante tasted delicious; it was better than she remembered and sweeter than she imagined. Then suddenly, as if by telepathy, they both snapped up straight and turned toward the operating table where Gram lay unconscious.
Angie’s eyes glanced at Gram and then back at Dante.
“He says she’s gone. She won’t come out of it,” Dante said, somberly.
Angie quickly scanned the lab. Her father was passed out on the floor. Crystal was feeling no pain on the other operating table. Even on the way to the lab, Angie had held out hope that there was some innocent explanation for all the disturbing things she had found on her father’s computer. Now she knew without a doubt that her father, her hero, was a fraud and a criminal; the stark realization was like a punch in the gut. It was now very obvious to Angie what had been going on. Her father was stealing Gram’s liver to use as a replacement for Crystal’s cancer-riddled organ. Of course, then Gram would die, but that was something her father had obviously accepted. It wasn’t unheard of for a senile elderly person to get lost and disappear in rural upstate New York. No one would have even suspected any foul play.
