Doppelganger

by Byron Starr

  “Yes, sir,” Emilio said.

  Sam took something that looked like a hand-held cellular phone from the inside pocket of his sports coat. “This is a satellite communications phone,” Sam said, handing the little phone to Emilio. “Cellular reception around here is terrible, but with this little baby you don’t have to worry about being in range of some tower and there’s no chance of all the lines being busy. Use it to keep us updated on what’s going on.”

  “Yes, sir,” Emilio said, picking up the phone and looking it over.

  Bill spoke up again. “James, I want you to go with him,” Bill said, while opening his middle desk drawer. He took out a pistol in a holster; a badge was clipped to the holster. Bill slid it across the desk. “You know how to use it?”

  James recognized the gun; it had been Greg’s. The badge, of course, wasn’t. Greg had been buried wearing his badge. “Yes, sir. Me and Greg took it out to the range a few times.”

  “Good. Raise your right hand.”

  * * *

  As soon as James and Emilio closed the door behind them, Sam turned to Bill, “You sure deputizing James is a good idea?”

  “No, I’m not. The boy’s a real wildcard. I honestly don’t know what to think.”

  “I still think we should just ask him to volunteer.”

  “It’s a little late for that, ain’t it?” Bill sneered, but they had gone over this on the ride back from the Chamblin house and he still hadn’t changed his mind. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t want him as a volunteer. He wouldn’t have any ties to us. He could come and go as he pleased. As a deputy, I’ll have a little authority over him.”

  “He was a murder suspect only a few days ago. Not to mention the fact the boy has no law enforcement experience and no training at all.”

  “Come on, Sam, you know a sheriff can deputize whoever he wants.”

  “It won’t look good and you know it.”

  “I could care less. I want to keep this boy close just in case he proves helpful, and if he ain’t helpful, I want him close so I can keep an eye on him.”

  “Bill, don’t forget you’re an elected official. This could blow up in your face. I’ll tell you what, let me deputize him into the Department of Public Safety. There’s an old law that’s still on the books that allows Rangers to deputize citizens.”

  Bill shook his head, “No, Sam, this is my call and I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

  Chapter 13

  The Hounds

  Over the length of his long, storied career, many people had accused Larry Williams of being schizophrenic. At home Larry Williams was a quiet man. He never cussed, drank, smoked or even raised his voice. The worst thing that his plump little wife could ever think of was his occasionally forgetting to raise the toilet seat. Larry would get a little loud when he went out to feed and work his dogs, but other than that he was essentially a very pleasant, easy going man.

  The people who worked with Larry would no more recognize this man than Larry’s wife and kids would recognize the man who handled the bloodhounds on the manhunts. When Larry was with his hounds, he underwent a kind of metamorphosis. His Texas Department of Public Safety cap was turned with the bill toward the back. A large plug of chewing tobacco was placed in his cheek. His partial dentures, which replaced four of his missing upper teeth, were taken out and placed in his shirt pocket. His vocabulary began to have less depth and more breadth as he stopped using all words with more than two syllables and started using cuss words that would make a hardened sailor blush with shame. Even his eyes began to take on a slightly less than sane look.

  Larry wasn’t only a bloodhound handler; he was also The State of Texas' very own bloodhound trainer. He started training his dogs as soon as they were weaned. Currently eleven other states’ highway departments and the FBI purchased bloodhounds from the State of Texas, and every one of these dogs had been trained by Larry. The best of the bloodhounds, however, stayed in Texas. Larry kept his seven best students in a small kennel behind his house. He trained and worked them twice, sometimes three or four, times a day.

  As James and Emilio drove up to the Chamblins’ house, Emilio pointed out Larry Williams. He was holding four baying bloodhounds on leashes and yelling at a young game warden beside him holding the other three. “That’s Larry Williams. He’s a little strange, but I’ve worked with him. The man definitely knows his business. He’s like a god when it comes to bloodhounds.”

  James noticed Larry was having no trouble at all holding his four big bloodhounds, which were chomping at the bit to get going, but the other game warden, who was a head taller and quite a bit broader than Larry, seemed like he was fighting for all he was worth to keep from being dragged off by the other three.

  “Not exactly what I expected,” James commented as he watched the unruly dogs bay and paw at the ground.

  “Don’t let them fool you, those dogs are about as disciplined as they come when Larry wants them to behave, but he always gets them all fired up before they start tracking someone,” Emilio said as he parked the Blazer in the drive behind another Game Warden’s vehicle. “He says it helps. I think he just likes the sound of barking dogs,” he added with a chuckle.

  “What the hell took y’all so damn long?” Larry shouted over the baying hounds as Emilio and James got out of the truck.

  “Sorry, Larry. . .” Emilio started to give an excuse, but Larry cut in.

  “We might have a real show today, amigo. I got m’self a new assistant,” Larry said, grinning; with the front four teeth on the top of his mouth missing, his smile looked twisted and quite insane. “He ain’t showin’ much promise, but my babies’ve trained worse.”

  Larry then looked around at the five game wardens who were in the area and yelled, “Y’all ready?” Without waiting for an answer, Larry let his dogs start off across the pasture with him in tow. Seeing their comrades get started, the other three dogs took off, almost pulling Larry’s assistant off his feet. James, Emilio, and four other game wardens followed right behind them. Up ahead they could hear Larry holler, “Hell, yeah! They on somethin’ already!”

  They followed Larry through the pasture, pausing briefly to work their way through the barbwire fence. The troop of dogs and men continued through the woods and underbrush, heading north, back in the direction of town. The dogs let out a tremendous racket as they plunged through the woods, and Larry was almost as noisy, cussing his assistant and encouraging his “babies.” Every now and then, when the underbrush was at its thinnest, James could make out the dirt road to the left of them, and the scattered houses along its way. They pressed on at a jog for eight miles, taking only brief rest stops before Larry would have them back up and going.

  During the first break, Emilio had taken out the satellite phone to call in, but Larry had informed him that the rest would be too short for him to make the call. He would let him know when they were going to have a break long enough for a call in to the Sheriff’s Department. Sure enough, Emilio had just enough time to put the phone up and take a swig from his canteen when Larry started up again. So much for keeping in constant touch with Sam and Bill.

  Every so often, Emilio would take a small compass out of his breast pocket and check their direction. They headed north by northeast for about eight miles, crossing several dirt roads, passing through several pastures, and even an occasional backyard.

  As they crossed a small creek, which was only about ankle deep and four feet wide, Emilio commented in a voice winded from the quick pace they’d had to stay at to keep up with Larry and his dogs, “Highway 190's not far.”

  After crossing the creek the hounds momentarily lost the trail, giving James and the game wardens a short break; however, the break didn’t last long. As soon as the dogs had the scent again they were off, this time heading straight north, baying excitedly. Less than a half a mile later they came to Highway 190. When they came out of the brush there were no cars in sight on the road, so they quickly crossed over, with
only one old pickup passing by before the entire group was on the other side of the road.

  Once the team had gone far enough into the woods that Larry’s hounds wouldn’t be distracted by passing cars, Larry stopped to give the hounds a break. While Larry and his assistant gave the dogs their water (not too much, dipshit, Larry snapped at his assistant, don’t want ’em gettin’ sick on us!) Emilio plopped down on a stump and James slumped to the ground with his back to a tree. Both of them were breathing hard. Larry walked over and told Emilio that now would be a good time to check in, but he’d have to be brief. Emilio took out Sam’s little James Bond phone. He dialed the sheriff’s office and it started ringing. No static.

  “Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Debra, this is Emilio. Transfer me to Bill’s office.”

  There was a slight pause, then Bill said, “Hello?”

  “It’s Emilio. We’ve just crossed Highway 190. The trail’s been north by northeast for almost nine miles, now the trail’s going straight north. I’d say we’re just three to four miles southeast of town.”

  “Okay, keep us posted.”

  “I will if I can. Larry’s not giving us many breaks.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Emilio put the phone back in his pocket. He took a canteen out of the small backpack he was wearing and took a drink, then handed it to James. “You say this thing has a regular den it sleeps in during the day?”

  James took a long drink out of the canteen, then replied, “Yeah, it’s under some roots on the edge of a creek.”

  James handed Emilio the canteen, and Emilio put the cap back on. “Do you recognize any of this,” Emilio made a motion around him. “from your ... dreams?”

  “Not much. The thing usually moves too fast for me to tell much about where it’s at. I do remember crossing 190 though,” Then James added, “There’s something that seems strange to me. I’ve been watching that thing taking inventory in Newton for days, but when it finally strikes it hits a farmhouse ten miles out of town. What’s up with that?”

  Emilio laughed. “Why are you asking me?”

  “You’re a game warden. I thought you guys were supposed to know animals,” James said, chuckling himself.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s trying to throw us off.”

  James shrugged as if satisfied with this answer. Then something hit him that sent a shiver down his spine. “An animal couldn’t be that smart. How would an animal even know we were after it, much less how to throw us off?”

  “I don’t think we’re dealing with normal animal intelligence here.”

  Just as Emilio finished, Larry called out, “All right ladies. Off your ass and on your feet; out of the shade and in the heat.” They had no sooner stood up than Larry was off, followed by his assistant and the rest of their little group.

  * * *

  The beast awoke with a start.

  It poked its head out from under the roots and looked around. Its eyes were unaccustomed to the bright light of day, and even after its eyes adjusted its vision was somewhat blurred. Its sense of smell and hearing, on the other hand, was unaffected. The beast raised itself, sniffed the wind and listened. It couldn’t smell them or hear them coming, but it knew they were on the way.

  The beast dropped back on all fours, climbed up the bank of the creek, and rose to two feet again. Still no sound or smell of what it knew was coming.

  It waited.

  After a couple more minutes, the beast heard a sound, and stood up. Yes, it could hear them. Not much longer and it would be able to smell them too.

  The beast began to lope in the direction of the sound. It hadn’t gone far when it stopped once again and smelled the air. The sound was much nearer, but it still couldn’t smell them; the wind had shifted toward the approaching group. This was good. The beast wanted to mask its smell, not hide it.

  The beast closed its eyes and sent its senses forward, now relying even more on smell and sound than it usually did. It passed through the woods and over hills for some distance until it came up on the approaching party. It noted the smaller creatures leading the others. Their noses were down, sniffing the ground.

  The beast’s senses then entered one of the dogs and found a memory; one of a small black animal with a white stripe down its back. It then repeated this process with each of the dogs.

  * * *

  Larry and his dogs barreled through the woods for almost a half a mile past their stop before coming to more houses. The trail then began to follow a path behind the houses for another half mile. They skirted close to several homes along Lee’s Mill Road, bringing many people out of their houses to watch as seven bloodhounds, five game wardens, one recently sworn in deputy, and a half crazy dog handler with a filthy vocabulary stormed noisily through their backyards. Despite an audience which included several ladies and quite a few children, Larry continued to blast out encouragements to his hounds in the form of obscenities. The trail continued close by these houses until it took a right and crossed Lee’s Mill road.

  When they crossed the road, Larry’s assistant began to plead for another stop and James was silently rooting for him. Emilio was tired but seemed to be holding up okay; however, James wasn’t exactly in the best of shape, and he wasn’t sure how much further he could go. Larry didn’t answer his assistant, but — without stopping his dogs — he turned to Emilio and asked, “There’s a creek ahead. How far?”

  “Half mile, maybe,” Emilio panted.

  “We’ll rest there.”

  But they hadn’t gone much more than a few more steps before the dogs stopped on their own. They sniffed around trying to pick up the smell. They were nervously hopping about, constantly looking in the direction they had been going and whining.

  “What the hell?” Larry said, then attempted to coax them on. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Only two of his seven dogs wanted to continue on, albeit without as much enthusiasm as before. The rest just whimpered and looked in the direction they had just been so eagerly heading.

  “This is new,” Larry said, trying to get his hounds going again.

  James looked at Emilio. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know,” Emilio said as he unslung the AR-15 from his shoulder.

  Larry gave his remaining dogs, which were much easier to handle now that they were less excited about continuing, to his assistant. “Looks like Sal and Jody are the only two that’s got the balls to keep on.” Then he took off again, but at a much slower pace. The dogs were hesitant, and silent – no baying at all now. James, Emilio, and three of the game wardens followed along. The assistant and the other remaining game warden stayed behind with the other five dogs.

  Not much further along they came to a creek and the dogs began to hurry upstream.

  “That’s it!” James said, pointing at the root system of what had once been a tall oak. “That’s where it’s been sleeping.”

  The tree was long since dead, only about ten feet of the trunk remained. The water had eroded away the dirt from around most of its roots causing them to stick out spider-like into the creek.

  Emilio moved forward with his rifle to his shoulder, ready for action. James was right behind him, with his pistol in his hand. Larry led the way and the dogs began sniffing around the tree. Emilio carefully peeked underneath the dead tree’s roots. Nothing.

  The dogs went no further than the tree.

  “Shit! The damn trail ends here.”

  * * *

  “What happened?” Bill asked from behind his desk.

  It was just past eleven at night, and Bill, Sam, Emilio, and James were once again in Bill’s office discussing the day’s failed attempt to track the beast with dogs.

  “I’m not sure. Larry’s dogs just lost the scent,” Emilio said. “All the sudden, too. Like the thing just disappeared.”

  “I think I might know what happened,” James spoke up. “Remember when it killed that horse and those two cows? How it was able to walk right up on them
? When it changes, it takes on another form’s appearance and sound. It takes on their smell, too. It just heard us comin’ and changed into something different.”

  “Then how come the dogs started acting strange before they reached the den?” Emilio asked. “I mean, wouldn’t it have been asleep there, woke up, then changed?”

  “Maybe it went back down its tracks tryin’ to throw the dogs off.”

  “I don’t think that would work on Larry and his dogs,” Sam said. “They’re the best in the state, and possibly the best in the country.”

  Emilio nodded. “Yeah, it would take one hell of a scent to cover its tracks so well that only two out of seven dogs were able to follow the trail to the den, and I didn’t smell a thing. We could even see its prints, but the hounds wouldn’t pick the trail back up. We followed the prints for about a quarter of a mile by sight, but finally lost them in the brush.”

  “Maybe we’ll have better luck next time,” Bill injected. “The damn thing’s nocturnal, so we’re bound to catch it nappin’ sooner or later.”

  Chapter 14

  My Babies

  Early the next morning James returned to the sheriff’s office. He met with Bill and told him the beast had left from under a white wooden structure that James supposed was its new den and stayed to the woods throughout the night, killing and devouring a rabbit before returning.