Patrick slid a novel out of the shelf. “I think so. Look here.” He displayed to everyone an old paper back copy of At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft.
“What does that thing mean?” Gary was on the other side of the room, arms crossed.
“See these crease marks along the pages? They’re recent. Someone was reading this not long ago. Whoever it was is bound to return.”
Johnny squirmed his way to the chair’s surface. “Let’s just hope that’s a good thing.”
Slate dragged his feet across the room and took a seat on the couch. They rested in silence for moments, pondering over the implications of being in some strange person’s home. Not to mention the fact that none of them wanted to be ‘that guy’ who turned on the TV to some sitcom. Instead, Slate looked blankly at the wall. He was clearly the most worried.
Patrick edged closer to him. He knew Slate had been shaken since the incident at the house, and he had stirred hastily the ride. “Let’s go through this again. You saw who threw Gary’s uncle down the stairs?”
Slate promptly put all his energy forward. “Not who. What.”
“What do you mean, what?”
“I mean it wasn’t even a person.”
Patrick replied in a hushed voice. “What could you possibly mean by that?”
“I’m not really sure. But whatever it was, it was huge and had giant yellow eyes!” he took a pause, staring wondrously at nothing in particular.
With straining effort Johnny rose from the bean bag, leaving behind a soft crater in the cozy seat like footprints on the moon. He couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.
“You still remember what it looked like?” he asked.
“Well, yeah, of course.”
Johnny rushed over to the desk underneath the bookshelf. Sliding open the top drawer, he slipped out a single sheet of paper and a pencil, handing them to Slate confidently. “You’re an artist. Draw us a picture.”
“I can do that.” Slate accepted them, folding the paper in half to provide a base. He quickly had a lifelike silhouette etched out.
Alone, Gary examined the bookcase. Between all the strange events, he knew something was off about it. Like the object of focus in an old animated film, it seemed out of place. Some vinyl covered book on DNA caught his focus. Unlike other volumes, the dust accumulated over it let him know it hadn’t been touched in a while. He pulled it off the shelf.
The light unexpected jab from the length of the shelf’s midsection nearly made him leap backwards. The light force of his hand grabbing the book out slid the entire piece of furniture forward. The low groaning of the shelf caught the attention of Patrick and Johnny, and they joined him, leaving Slate to his sketching. To their astonishment, the shelf wasn’t even touching the ground, and the more hidden side of the shelf had a deadbolt, except it wasn’t locked.
“What the hell is that?” Gary eyed the structure from every angle.
Patrick grabbed the empty bolted side. “I think it’s a door. Look.”
With another light shove, the entire shelf came sliding forward enough for the three to peek their heads behind. Displayed in front of them was a small archway through which a spiraled staircase lead underground. They seemed to forget their own company from the outlandishness. Gary slowly placed a foot onto the first step, testing it.
The wooden planks were steady stable under his weight, so the other two readily followed. Johnny took the moment to trot down the stairs, passing Gary and Patrick, immaturely wanting to be the first to uncover the mystery. Patrick took one last glance back at Slate. He was deep in his drawing, paying no attention to them. Holding one hand against the metal railing, he followed the other two below.
The lower floor spanned much longer than the upstairs room, and wore no similarities in its decoration. Concealed within the underground metal walls were many computers and monitors with its adjacent corners completely covered. The only noise in the room were the sounds of various heated software running, interior mechanisms whirling and twirling to unknown commands. Besides the technology worn like Christmas ornaments, Patrick thought the series of metal bars extending from one corner to the next was the oddest feature. They were organized in a seemingly random pattern, as if they were built for a daring gymnast.
The chill of the air conditioning hit him hard as he joined Gary and Johnny on level ground.
Bewilderment glittered in Johnny’s eyes as he looked around. “So this is our friend’s evil lair? This is awesome!”
“All these computers are running,” Patrick observed. “but how are they worked? There are no switches anywhere.”
Next to him Gary was unimpressed. Patrick was sure Gary had had his fill of surprises for the night. He walked on towards the largest monitor and looked up at it, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He still needed it cut.
The sound of movement above got their attention. Someone was coming down.
“Guys?” Slate had discovered where they went. “Where did you go?”
Slate swiftly dashed down half a dozen steps before he could see the entire length of the secret room. He paused to take in its futuristic aura, marveling at the wild architecture of structures from one angle to the opposite.
“Whoa.”
Once the wonder died down, they retreated back to the main cabin floor. They were gathered by the couch discussing their thoughts on everything that had happened. No rational theories were circling.
“At least we have a decent place to stay.” Patrick plopped down by the leg of a couch.
Gary was standing, eyeing the window. “Fine. We’ll be here for tonight, but I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“You can’t leave!” Johnny commanded. “We need to stay together.”
“No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to meet a guy who hides some evil lab under a cabin. The person giving us those messages may come by soon. I want to get out of this while I can.”
“You can’t!” Patrick fired in reply. “You were with us when someone shot at us. There are people trying to kill us. If what our ally says is true they probably know who we are by now, including yourself.”
“You guys actually really believe that?” Their voices grew with each response. “It was definitely the police who fired that shot. They’re all incompetent! And even if it’s true, it’s not worth hanging around here. I don’t need this.”
Slate slammed his pencil down on the coffee table. He gave the drawing a final checkup before finally contributing to the conversation.
“Okay. I finished my sketch.”
Johnny leaned over, struggling in the confines of the beanbags. “Geez! When I said ‘draw us a picture’ I didn’t mean a portrait that belongs in the goddam Louvre.”
He passed the sheet to Patrick, who gave the thing a subtle glance. He countered by giving Slate a joking look but his friend’s stoicism spoke for itself.
The first thing he noticed about the etched figure were the long, pointy ears extending upwards. Below at the creature’s head were two jutting fangs wreathed by several smaller ones across, with a snout that seemed a tad incomplete. But perhaps the most obvious feature was the wide wingspan flowing like a cape. Just as Slate mentioned, its two round eyes bore an unsettling amount of cunningness. He almost shuddered at the animal’s intelligent eyes staring directly at him, even though it was just a drawing.
He ignorantly looked at Slate, who did the same to him. Johnny extended his hand to the folded drawing, seeing it for himself.
It hadn’t been a second before Johnny spoke. “What is this, a bat?”
“I..I think so.” Slate confirmed.
The image was passed to Gary, who glared at it silently for a minute. When it passed he jolted up and walked towards the door, throwing the drawing back to its artist.
“What have I gotten myself into?” he quickly raged. “This is ri
diculous, and you’re all arrogant fools for thinking you have a part in this. You leave, I leave, right now. What’s the difference? It’ll be over.”
Slate stood up and softly approached him like a frightened animal. “Gary please-”
“No! There’s no way I’m staying with you people. You know what you are? Fakes. All of you! You lie to yourselves the moment you wake up to the time you close your eyes at night.”
Gary bitterly ended his tirade and stormed outside, slamming the weak door behind him.
“What do we do?” Patrick asked. “We need to find out what’s really wrong with him.
Johnny sighed, leveling himself out of his favorite chair and putting a comforting hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I think our little friend, Gary, is afraid of the dark.”
The first interrogation of the case was about to begin. He wasn’t much of a suspect, but they figured he could know the potential murderers of Jefferson Black. Detective Guajardo was leaning impatiently against her office wall when her partner retuned in uniform from the daily coffee run. It was 10 A.M. He was late.
“What took you so long?” she asked.
Detective Hunter clunked the cardboard cup rack on the table in front of them, adjusting his collar. “Sorry. There was a long line and apparently telling them you’re law enforcement doesn’t allow you to cut.” He held out his hand like a beggar. “That’ll be 3.75.”
“Whatever happened to ‘The law gets free coffee’ at that place?”
“There was a new cashier. Young guy. No respect for authority, that kind of thing. You know how it is.”
“Anyway, when’s the guy supposed to be here?”
“If I’m not mistaken, that would be him pulling into the parking lot right now.” He pointed out the office window, to a red sports car parked in the rear.
Exiting his luxury vehicle and stepping onto the uneven gravel was the head of Elder Incorporated. The man himself, Dr. Samuel E. Elder. His appearance was one that would earn at least two glances from those who were not used to him. The white suit sided with a blank tie and shoes to match would make him appear to be glowing. The blond and black streaks of his hair made him appear more youthful than he was. He wasn’t an old man. His circular bifocals equalized his appearance, which was that of a man in his early forties.
Both detectives moved to greet him as he confusedly searched for his destination. “Dr. Elder, thank you so much for coming down.” Hunter shook his hand.
“Yes, we understand this morning must have been very hard for you.” Rita added.
Elder returned their gaze, his expression unchanging. “Not as hard as his wife’s. Jefferson was a dear friend of mine, and he could never be replaced. I can’t imagine how she must feel.”
“We’re doing everything we can.” Rita assured. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’re moving to the room?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
The three walked in a triangle formation down the hall to the first interrogation room. A camera was sneakily edged in the top corner. Only a single table was set in the middle of the room. They took their seats. Detectives on one side and the doctor on the other.
Elder adjusted his seat as they began. “So, what can I help you with?”
“Please describe for us your relationship with the late Jefferson Black.” Rita plopped a notepad down and clicked a pen.
“I was his chief employer and close friend. He was a bright young mind straight out of graduate school. For years I observed his graduate work before I asked him to join my company. He graciously accepted.”
“Where were you last night between 8 and 10?” John interjected.
Elder maintained perfect composure despite knowing where the questions were headed. The detectives were seeing if he’d squirm like a toad. “I was in my home. That was about the time I lit the fireplace, and made tea. At one point I had the neighbors over. They can verify I never left the house.”
The answer satisfied the detectives. If they later felt it necessary, they would check with those neighbors. But there was no reason to be suspicious yet.
“Do you know anyone who would have any motive, any reason at all to hurt him?”
“No. No one. He was a great guy. Always kind to everyone and put them first, even before his work.”
Guajardo looked up from her notebook. “Speaking of which, what kind of work is it that you’ve been doing? We understand it’s raised some heads in the scientific community.”
“I don’t like discussing my work outside the lab.”
“Make an exception.” Hunter sternly recommended. “It could be relevant.”
Dr. Elder grew silent for some seconds, unwilling and mentally debating himself. He audibly exhaled and fixed his posture. “I and an elite team of computer scientists, hand-picked by myself, have been trying to figure out a method of programming a very small chip with a perfect knowledge on how the human body should function. With the assistance of Dr. Black and his clan of brilliant geneticists working for him, we wished to put our talents together to create a piece of technology that if placed inside someone, could cure them of any genetic diseases and even prevent them from illness in the first place. You name it: cancer, sickle cell, hell even baldness would go away. We were confident we could do it. We only succeeded in small quantities, nothing with ideal results.”
The information fascinated the officers, as they just couldn’t hide their interest. “Sounds like you’ve tried to do a lot of good.” commented Guajardo. “Well, that’s about all the questions we have so-”
Elder nearly slingshot himself out of his chair. “May I see the crime scene photos?”
Hunter and Guajardo didn’t know how to respond. Elder noted their confusion, realizing it probably appeared he had something to hide. “Nothing would please me more than helping the police bring his killer to justice. Not only did they rob the world of a good man, but they committed a crime against the science and greatness we we’re aiming for. I would like to help as much as possible.”
They both shrugged, wishing every suspect was that cooperative. “Sure. Why not?”
Rita deposited a yellow envelope onto the table. Inside, several documents were contained. She ignored them and slid out the first photo from the scene, laying it face up for Elder to see. It was a close up shot, emphasizing the worst aspects of the crime. He looked at the photo intently as an expression smeared across his face. It wasn’t one of fear or horror, but of light surprise. For a rapid moment there was anger, but it left as soon as it came.
John and Rita waited for him to comment, but he just stared at the photo, lost in his own world. “Dr. Elder?” the latter asked.
“Oh, my apologies. What kind of weapon do you think could have done this?”
“We have no idea. But we know who did it. Well, we don’t know who exactly. They got away from us. We are trying to catch them as we speak.” John said.
Elder sprang up, his empty chair softly teetering behind. “If it’s no trouble. I would like to hear the current state of this case.”
“There’ll be an official statement on the matter tonight. You should show up. I’m sure people wouldn’t mind hearing a few words from a close friend.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”
With that, Elder said his goodbyes and exited to the lot, his white loafers becoming tainted by flecks of dirt along the way. The small car’s engine silently came to life and drove off. Two pairs of eyes watched him through the office window.
“Do you think he was hiding anything?” Rita asked.
“Probably not. But he’ll never be too far away. He seems like he wants to spend time with us.”
“But back to the case. This group we’re trying to catch. We should give them a name. A name people will remember and look out for. After the two incidents they were involved in last night: murder and a massive arming scene at
that recluse’s home, they may be very dangerous. We have no idea what they’re planning.”
John paused for a second. Something his daughter said the previous night surfaced the brain. “How about The Raven Gang?”
“The Raven Gang?” she softly chuckled. “Okay, why the hell not?”
As Dr. Samuel Elder pulled into the driveway of his three story home the thoughts in his head were a disharmonious blend of anger and surprise. Or, at least that’s what someone who saw him would think.
No. He was not feeling that way at all. He was serene.
He wondered how well his guise fooled the officers. Probably well, he thought. My acting has never failed me before.
The chill of late November slapped him as he opened the door and stepped onto the dead grass. He followed the cobblestone path leading him to the front porch. The breeze from entering the house was kinder to him. The ashen fireplace wasn’t sparkling. Elder decided he would kindle it when the coolness of the slowing down gas molecules was obvious. But that would have to wait. He had a call to make.
Through the immediate hallway he entered the first door. It was an empty room save for a counter with two cabinets hanging above and a small circular device in the far corner. The object resembled a small tripod, holding a thin metallic pancake. With a flick of the light from a small switch, the small machine woke up. Three tiny beams shot upward from small chambers within the machine. A few seconds later the beams collided and a single large ray flickered around the room. The light soon began to materialize into a solid form. The outline of a tall man in a navy colored coat could be made out in the brightness. When it died down all that remained was the man’s full physical being. The light had vanished.
Elder greeted the formed man casually. “Captain Patane, I was expecting an update from you 12 hours ago. Why the delay?”
The newly materialized captain didn’t flinch, he kept his cool. “I’m sorry sir, the mission was more difficult than we suspected. None of that was supposed to happen to him.”
“Yes, and now Frost has got a team of morons on the run with him! They could be anywhere by now!” Elder shouted.
The Raven Gang (Noble Animals Book 1) Page 9
