Evil Like Me

by Steve Bradshaw

  The MPD Harbor Patrol was called into action around midnight last night to assist the U.S. Coast Guard and the elite force. After completion of the operation, a body was removed and transported to the Shelby County Medical Examiner’s office. Dr. Victoria Petty was unavailable for comment. All other participants departed Mud Island by water to an undisclosed location. The north end of Mud Island is a restricted (crime scene) area until further notice.

  Sources close to the operation said U.S. Attorney General Alfred Baldwin was on Mud Island. Rumors he died following the shooting at the National Civil Rights Museum have been corrected. “Mr. Baldwin was never in danger. The failed attempt on his life resulted in minor injuries. Perpetrators are being pursued.” Asked if the failed assassination attempt was connected to Mud Island events, there were no comments. Memphis Homicide Detective Tony Wilcox, the lead investigator on a series of unsolved homicides, was not available for comment.

  Wolf River Harbor residents reported an unusual number of large, bull elk in their neighborhoods the morning of the incident. The Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency was contacted and could not explain the migration phenomena. Elk are rare in the region.

  Epilogue

  “Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.”

  Soren Kierkegaard

  *

  Three Weeks Later

  *

  Dr. Petty stood at the door watching Tony push green Jell-O cubes with a fork. She pulled the file close to her chest and walked into the hospital room. “Knock, knock.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” he groused.

  “You gonna poke those green Jell-O squares to death, or are you gonna to eat ’em?”

  “Nobody’s talking. I think I’m being handled, kept in the dark. I ask questions and I get irritating smiles and more stinkin’ food. I’m about ready to jump out the damn window, but they got me tied to the bed except one arm. Where the hell am I?”

  “The restraints are for your own good, Tony. You’ve been thrashing about.” The door muffled closed behind her. “You are at Walter Reed in Washington DC.”

  “A damn military hospital? Am I a prisoner?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Seriously, we almost lost you.”

  “What’re you talkin’ about?”

  “You’ve been in a coma for twenty-one days.” Staring at the ceiling he stopped poking his green Jell-O. Petty patted his arm. “I received the call two hours ago. You just woke up, Tony.”

  “I did? They called you first?”

  “Yes. I was cleared to be here first, following some standard tests and you eating something. You pulled out your feeding tube before you woke up. You broke one restraint.”

  “Why’s nobody talkin’ to me?” Wilcox asked.

  Petty closed the blinds and slid a chair to the bed. “We don’t have much time.” She pulled a piece of paper from her file and held it like she was reading. On the back it said—room bugged. Wilcox blinked. She slid the paper back into the file.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Do you remember anything?” Petty asked.

  “I remember everything.”

  “You were unconscious when I found you in the field. What is the last thing you remember on Mud Island—we’ll start there?”

  “Watchin’ Cankor float above the herd of bull elk.” Wilcox rubbed his forehead as if the thought gave him pain. “I think I was crazy by then. Cankor fried my brain. I tried to reach for my gun to shoot the bastard, but had no strength. I lost the will.”

  “What else do you remember?” Petty asked.

  “I remember Keller. I remember he was dead, white as snow. The skinny guy laid there like all the others, our homicides. You tried to help—I don’t know why. I guess Cankor escaped.”

  “Something happened after you left me with Hunter,” Petty said.

  “Sorry. I’ve seen a lot of dead people. He was dead and I needed to stop Cankor.”

  “He responded to CPR.”

  Wilcox stopped rubbing his head. His eyes locked on Petty’s. “Keller is alive?”

  “Yes. Tell me, how soon after leaving us did you find Major Cankor?”

  “Half a minute. He was less than twenty yards away, deeper in the herd. The asshole saw me right away. Said he knew I was coming—the psychic prick.”

  “So you did speak with him?”

  Wilcox looked at the ceiling. “He spun around. I saw his beady, black eyes on me. Ya know, I don’t know if our exchange was verbal or mental. I guess it was probably mental. His lips didn’t move.”

  “That explains it. That is why Hunter was able to come back. Cankor was distracted. You distracted him. Cankor’s psychic grip loosened,” Petty said.

  “Guess the poor bastard can’t multitask.” Wilcox resumed poking his green Jell-O cubes. “So, Keller survived that night on Mud Island, too?”

  “Hunter survived. Cankor did not.”

  He stopped poking as a smile grew on his face. “There is a God. Tell me. Did the hostages make it off Mud Island in one piece?”

  “Director Cottam had four broken ribs, a dislocated jaw, and sprained ankle. Detective Baily had a broken wrist and fractured skull. Your friend, Miss Patterson, had cuts and bruises, mostly the knuckles on her right hand.” Petty smiled. “I like strong women. Abby gave those two more than they bargained for. The good news is none of them had damage to their amygdalas.”

  “What about the snipers and MPD elite force?”

  “They got off the island without even a grass stain,” Petty teased.

  “And Baldwin and his people?”

  “They’re fine, too. Alfred Baldwin’s on his way. There are some things you need to know before he gets here. Cankor’s body was taken to the Shelby County morgue. The bodies of Dr. Swenson and their seven mercenaries were removed by boat, their deaths undisclosed.”

  “How in the world does Baldwin get away with that bullshit?” Wilcox complained.

  “It was classified as a government covert military operation. Insurgents killed by federal agents are viewed as enemies of the state, military deaths on a battlefield subject to military law. There are no requirements to report numbers or names or details.”

  “This was no military operation. We used the MPD elite force. We were hunting serial killers responsible for domestic deaths. I am goddamn tired of governments breaking laws.”

  “Major Cankor’s death was classified differently,” Petty said.

  “Why? Didn’t they shoot the bastard?” Wilcox chided.

  “His death fell under the jurisdiction of the presiding county medical examiner. By law it was my responsibility to conduct the inquest and rule on cause and manner.”

  “If they didn’t shoot him, how did he die?”

  “This is where it gets complicated, Tony. You saw Cankor levitate.”

  “Yeah, but I was in lah-lah-land. I’m sure that was him messin’ with my brain.”

  “We all saw the same thing, Tony.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you trying to tell me?” Wilcox sat up in bed.

  “Alfred Baldwin told us it was a mass-illusion created by Hunter Keller. He says Hunter used psychic skills to manipulate Cankor into believing he was in great danger hovering a hundred feet above the ground. Baldwin said we were in range to experience the illusion.”

  “After what I’ve seen the last few days, that makes a hell of a lot more sense than levitation,” Wilcox said. “So, Keller created this illusion to force Cankor to cooperate. I assume he did his thing—tried to escape. How did the bastard die?”

  “Baldwin believes the herd of bull elk trampled and gored Major Cankor to death.” Petty looked down at the file on her lap and closed her eyes.

  Wilcox knew something was wrong. “You did the autopsy. What do you say happened?”

  “Baldwin claims Cankor never left the ground, Tony. He claims levitation is impossible.”

  “You’re the forensic pathologist. What do you say happened
, Dr. Petty? And I don’t care who is listening to our goddamn private conversation,” Wilcox yelled into his empty room.

  “I don’t know, Tony.”

  “Trust me. They can’t do anything to you for telling the truth.”

  She opened her file and read, “Severe compression of spine, all vertebrae fractured. Base of skull fractured. Two broken legs—tibia and femur—compound, spiral fractures, and two broken ankles. All ribs fractured. All major organs, ruptured.”

  “Even I know a compressed spine is not your typical trampling injury,” Wilcox said. “He died from a fall, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. Cankor had to fall a long way to get those injuries on that surface. He had to fall at least a hundred feet to produce the damage I saw. It was textbook, Tony.”

  “So I did see him levitate. It was not an illusion,” Wilcox said still poking at his Jell-O. “I guess our skinny, little friend has even more gifts than we thought.”

  “You remember Bald Knob?” Petty asked.

  “You talkin’ about the part when Keller made those guys run into the tree?”

  “Yes. They weren’t running, Tony. They were floating. They were a few inches above the road. I didn’t want to believe it. I thought I was seeing things. It would be impossible.”

  “I saw it too. But I couldn’t get my brain around anything I saw with Keller.”

  “Hunter did not kill those men at Bald Knob, Tony.”

  “Okay. And why is that significant now?”

  “Up until Mud Island, we only have evidence of Hunter using ‘lethal force’ one time.”

  “You mean the Russian guy, Bender.”

  “Yes. He shot you and held the gun to your head, Tony. Hunter saw the future. He knew Bender would pull the trigger. That night Hunter had to use lethal force. I think for the first time in his life. He was different after that, even more introverted. He was battling something inside.”

  “Cankor was his second,” Wilcox muttered.

  “And again, Hunter was the only one capable of stopping Cankor. He knew it, Tony.”

  “Where’s this goin’?” Wilcox pushed.

  Petty leaned close and whispered. “Hunter is deathly afraid of his psychic powers. He’s been running from them all his life, especially after his parents and closest friends were killed. But he knew he had to do something, Tony. Hunter knew exactly what Cankor was doing. Hunter was at your homicides for a reason. They were all remote viewers or direct descendants. He knew they were going to die.”

  “And he was there to warn them, to help them. But he was afraid to use his powers to protect them because why?”

  “The ability to kill with his thoughts petrified him, Tony.”

  “That would explain him showing up at homicides and doing nothing, except he did call 911 on South Main.”

  “He didn’t know how to help. He feared his powers. It explains why he felt the blame for the deaths.” Petty said. “His psychic powers come with a price. He knew if he used them to kill, they could take control of him like Cankor. They could possibly change him into a monster.”

  “Turn him into a heartless monster like Cankor,” Wilcox muttered.

  “After Cankor had you shot on the sandy clearing, he came back to me. I thought he was going to finish his work, kill me like he killed Dr. Proust on Dewar. But he was using me to get Hunter Keller. Cankor knew Hunter would not let him kill me. And Cankor stopped.”

  “Why?” Wilcox asked.

  “Hunter gave himself up. When Cankor saw Keller, he let go of me.”

  “I missed all that.”

  “You were unconscious, remember? I was paralyzed, but I could hear. Major Cankor said something odd. I didn’t understand the significance until later.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said to Hunter—now you are evil like me.”

  “Keller believed the use of lethal power would lead to being taken over by the evil inside of him.”

  “That is why he could not help the others. He had to risk it at the end,” Petty said. She leaned closer and whispered. “Now we must help him, Tony.”

  “Why? I would assume Baldwin’s gonna help him,” Wilcox said. “They need the guy.”

  “Our U.S. Attorney General suppressed the autopsy findings. All my inquest documents have been altered. I was forced to sign off.”

  “How much change are we talkin’?”

  “Cankor’s death was changed from a homicide to an accident. They eliminated pathology associated with a fall, and over-stated pathology supporting a trampling. They’re covering-up levitation, Tony. Baldwin’s taking control. He is employing legal maneuvers citing national security.”

  “Pushy little twit,” Wilcox muttered poking at his green Jell-O again.

  “You and I are prohibited from discussing events leading up to and including Mud Island. Violation is punishable by heavy fines and imprisonment.”

  “You are a stickler for truth, justice, and the American way, Petty. You need to get over it in this case. The government’s protecting their psychic-weaponry secrets.”

  “It’s not right, Tony.”

  “Frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass what the documents say about Cankor as long as the bastard is takin’ a dirt nap. Revel in the moment. He’s off the streets. Our unsolved homicides come off the books. We go back to chasing common criminals.”

  “The world may be a little bit safer, but I don’t like my government manipulating the truth. The ends never justify the means.”

  “I hear you, but let’s focus on getting out of here. We need to get back to Memphis.”

  “I am worried about Hunter,” Petty said.

  “If he’s with Baldwin and the Stargate people, I would relax,” Wilcox said. “They’ll treat him like a rock star. The kid’s got unbelievable gifts. Our government wants to understand and protect them. I’m sure they’ll take good care of him.”

  “Then why are they holding him in a secret, secured structure under the DOJ building?”

  “They have something like that under the DOJ? What are you talking about?”

  “I have reliable sources, Tony. The government cannot risk losing Hunter Keller again. They are charging him with Cankor’s death and the deaths of remote viewers. If he does not cooperate, they will prosecute. He will face life in prison or execution. Hunter will never see daylight again. He is their lab rat, or a dead duck.”

  Wilcox pushed his food tray. “That is unadulterated bullshit.”

  “He is too powerful to ever be free. He will not survive. You know him. Hunter’s not physically strong enough. He will wither away. He is an introverted man alone in the world, a man scared to death of his gifts. He will die. He will use his powers to kill himself.”

  “Have you spoken with him?”

  “Not since Mud Island.” Petty wiped her eyes.

  Wilcox turned back to the tray table over his lap. Poking the green Jell-O cubes with his fork helped him think. Anger filled his eyes as the door swung open and Alfred Baldwin entered the room. Two secret service agents took positions in the hall as the door closed behind.

  “How’s my favorite homicide detective?” Baldwin asked as he nodded at Petty.

  Standing at the end of the bed in his three-piece suit, he checked his watch. “I got here as soon as I heard you were back among the living. How do you feel?”

  “I’m good.” He swallowed his ire. “I heard I had a Rip Van Winkle moment.”

  “You had us worried for a while. This stuff is unpredictable. You remember anything?”

  “Some.” He touched his shoulder bandage. “I remember I got shot, and a herd of bull elk.”

  “You don’t remember your last moments with Hunter Keller and Major Cankor?” he asked as Petty looked down at her file. “We’re big boys and girls now. It’s okay. We can talk openly. We’re on the same team.”

  “Are we?” Wilcox said. “Or are you on a team and we’re on a team?”

  “I know what you think you saw, detectiv
e. And I know Dr. Petty brought you up-to-date on the important things. Why do you think we let her in here first? You got the Cliff Notes on War and Peace.”

  “You’re such a crafty Attorney General,” Wilcox chided. “What you gonna do next, ex-communicate a homicide detective and medical examiner to protect your goddamn secrets?”

  “We’re more civilized than that.” He rounded the bed as his smile melted and eyes sharpened. “I don’t have much time to play, so I’ll be direct. Under no circumstances will you or Dr. Petty share your experiences, philosophies, or closely held views on people or events leading up to and or including Mud Island. Comprende′ amigo?”

  “Oh. You speak Spanish—such a talent. I guess you mean I can’t tell the world about the psychic-weapons our government’s perfected and may use on us one day?”

  “Don’t do this Wilcox,” Baldwin said.

  “I’m sorry. Did I already cross a line? I just want to be clear. You don’t want me to talk about you developing unstoppable, killing machines soon to visit cities across America—the telekinetic homicidal maniacs brought to you by your untrustworthy U.S. Government.”

  “Very funny,” Baldwin said as he pinched the knot of his fake tie.

  “And levitation, God knows we should stay away from that one.”

  “Mass-illusion,” Baldwin said. “You don’t understand. You will never understand.”

  “What about Cankor—your elite force of remote viewers was terminated by a psychic serial killer you guys developed and could not control. Is that mass-illusion too?” Wilcox poked.

  “Major Cankor is dead,” Baldwin said.

  “Right. The monster was trampled to death in Memphis by a random and massive herd of bull elk never before seen in the Midsouth.” Wilcox tugged at his arm restraint with his free hand. “Be glad I’m tied up Baldwin. You don’t scare me.”

  “I hope you do feel better soon … come to your senses.” Baldwin’s smile returned. “You won’t talk.”

  “You’re a devious, power-hungry prick on your way to oblivion. History will get it right.”