Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series)

by Martin Cogburn

  With that, he walked to and opened the door. Right before stepping out, he turned back and announced, “I’ll be waiting in the truck.”

  - - - - - -

  Thunder rumbled and lighting flashed over the distant peaks, eliminating them in a dancing white light. For a moment it seemed to make them come alive. The still visible moon cast shadows on the ground that moved back and forth in unison with the swaying trees.

  Jason sat alone on the porch watching the storm, wondering if it would come or go. The troubled weather was good company for the mood he was in. Misty had wanted to do nothing but argue all the way home from Susan’s house. Because of her stubbornness, he had tossed and turned for what seemed like half the night as he tried to banish the echo of her sharp words from his mind.

  Misty, of course, was taking up for her sister… but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the fact that she really was dead-set on going to church. That’s what caused the argument. Jason knew he could fix all of their problems himself, but she seemed to have forgotten that.

  If Misty started going to church, she would be telling him that she wanted more. It would be like saying she wanted Susan’s God to be her hero, instead of Jason. Susan may need a god but she didn’t have a husband. Not one to speak of anyways. Misty had a husband who was trying. What made her think she needed God?

  Finally, with his mind scrambled, Jason rose from his seat, walked over to the edge of the porch and leaned against a brace post. The storm was getting closer, growing in intensity and violence as it came. Reaching and searching, lighting forked out across the open and immeasurable sky. The unyielding strength of it left him in awe. To witness something so powerful and consistent, never changing… it shed a bright light on the faults and failings of humans, who obviously change and become weak. The storm never did.

  He sighed deeply. Too bad nothing requiring a true hero ever happened in his life. A bit of doubt slipped in, telling him he could never handle himself in a real situation, but then Jason willed it aside. Of course, he could handle himself. Jason knew he was an above average man who was in his prime. He stood six feet tall – well, almost six feet tall – and weighed in at two hundred pounds of solid muscle… well, almost solid muscle; he was working on it. He counted calories, followed a strict weight lifting schedule and enjoyed looking at himself in the mirror. No one in their right mind would dare stand in his way. He was truly a stud and a hero… plus he had really nice hair.

  If only he could get Misty to see it… not his hair, his heroic side. Rescuing her purse obviously hadn’t been dramatic enough. Jason knew this time he would have to do something more memorable where something much more precious than her purse was threatened. Judging from personal experience, nothing was of more value to anyone than their own life. Lighting flashed. His eyes lit up. He had another brilliant plan.

  Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed. There were two rings before he spoke, “Hey Dr. Throckmorton, this is Jason... Yes sir, I know how late it is, but I have another favor to ask.” He paused. “Can you help me get some guys to stage the attempted kidnapping of my wife? I’ll defend her and become her one and only hero forever.” Jason listened for a moment. “No, I don’t think it’s a little crazy,” he spoke sharply. “And don’t forget about the part you played in the purse theft. That could be bad for a local businessman’s reputation.” He stood silent for a few seconds, realizing he had just resorted to blackmail. “Yes, this will be the last time,” he assured the doctor. “Do this for me and I won’t bother you again, I promise.” And so the storm raged on.

  Chapter Five

  There was a different feel in the air – possibly caused by some natural occurrence – but, then again, perhaps it could not be explained. Heavy with the essence of evil, as if some menacing presence lay slumbering beneath its surface, the night had crept in, several hours prior having forced the last hint of light to retreat from the western sky. A grave hush had settled over the park and, except for the occasional street light, total darkness had encamped upon the land. The swing set, the merry-go-round… they both sat silent and still, for even the breeze had forsaken the grounds.

  Branches lay scattered across the park, fallen victims of the storm that had passed through the night before. Jason kicked one aside as he walked down the abandoned sidewalk leading to the playground, Misty close by his side. She looked scared tonight. Jason was glad she didn’t know what he knew… which was there was really nothing to be scared of. He wasn’t about to clue her in on that though. For the hero to do his good deed, the damsel had to be in distress, so he did nothing to try to ease her fears. Rather he did the opposite.

  “You hear about people getting attacked in parks like this one every once in a while,” he said in laid-back fashion.

  Misty looked around nervously. “Yes,” she agreed as she moved closer to his side. “Since that’s the case, why are we here?”

  “I know how much of a star-gazer you are, so I thought we could come out here and find us a nice dark spot where we can see the stars,” Jason spoke smoothly as they passed into a small circle of light that shone down on the area of the merry-go-round.

  Misty froze in her tracks and cast a glance up at the sky. “I can see them from here,” she said then gave a small shutter. “Can we go home now? This place is kind’a creepy after dark.”

  “Awe, come on, babe,” Jason said as he wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to coax her to move forward once more. He failed. “You’ve got me. I won’t let anything happen to you… I promise,” he insisted.

  “Something could happen beyond your control,” Misty pointed out, her voice still full of fear.

  Jason remembered Dr. Throckmorton telling him about how to be in control. Jason looked Misty straight in the eye, like he was sure any other hero would do, and explained his new self-image to her. “I am in control therefore nothing can happen that is beyond my control.” There, now that should make her feel better.

  “Susan told me that God is the only one who has complete control,” Misty responded simply.

  The conspiracy thickens! That underhanded sister-in-law was trying to turn his wife against him! “What other kind of nonsense did she tell you?” Jason asked, an edge creeping into his voice… but his wife didn’t seem to be listening. She became as still as a statue and so silent that she didn’t seem to be breathing.

  “Jason!” she hissed in a tense whisper. “We need to leave… now!”

  “Why?” Jason asked with both eyebrows raised. Boy, did she know how to work herself into a tizzy.

  “I have a feeling, Jason,” Misty said in a fast, panicky whisper. Her whole expression screamed terror. “I just have a feeling that something really, really bad is about to happen.”

  Jason felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. There, now she was getting him all worried, too. Goodness, talk about fall apart. He had never seen her like this before.

  “What are you afraid of – the dark?” Jason asked with a nervous chuckle, trying to get her riled up a bit. He had to find some way to get her to start walking forward again, or he would never get her over to the bank of the little pond where he and the doctor had decided his heroic act would take place. What he had envisioned was a nice, quiet, romantic walk with a flirty and willing wife. That’s not what he was getting. If he’d known that she was going to be so skittish, he wouldn’t have parked so far away from the pond. Jason was beginning to wonder if he was going to have to drag her there.

  “A little late for a stroll in the park, isn’t it?” a voice from the darkness asked, startling Jason. But once his heart quit racing, he gave an inward sigh of relief. His accomplices must have gotten tired of waiting and decided to come looking for him. He was thankful for their ability to improvise.

  “Well,” Jason spoke, “I would say there’s no law against it but…there is. Although it would appear that the wife and I are not the only ones breaking it.”

  “Well, my goodness, aren’t we all rebe
ls,” the voice laughed. “I tell you what, I won’t tell on you if you won’t tell on me.” He paused. “But really, I’m not too concerned about that, for you see, dead men tell no tells.”

  “Oh,” Jason said, playing along, “I wasn’t planning on killing you.”

  Jason’s remark was given a wicked sounding laugh. He began to make out the outline of a man, then two, and finally three. Advancing forward, their forms began to take shape, walking side by side. The one on the left had a drawn and ugly face that sported a crocked nose. He looked much meaner than the others. The doctor had done a good job picking him out.

  The one on the right side sported a hoodie pulled low, making his facial features indiscernible, but with his gangster style get-up, he too looked the part. However, the guy in the middle didn’t really fit the picture. His cheeks were full to the point of making him look a little baby faced. Plus, he was a lot shorter than the other two. No scars or tattoos marked his dark brown skin. No anger in his dark brown eyes. But what really annoyed Jason was the fact that the little runt was the only one advancing towards him. The other two split off to each side before beginning to circle around.

  Misty was squeezing Jason’s arm. “Come on, Babe,” she pleaded, trying to tug him away. “Run!”

  Jason turned to his terrified wife with what he considered to be a heroic grin on his face. “It’ll be okay, babe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” The brave statement made a bit of pride swell in his chest. In his heart, Jason just knew he was discovering what it meant to truly be a hero. He felt nothing but raw power coursing through his body. If only this confrontation was real. He could leave these guys scattered across the playground, he just knew it.

  Trying to decide what he thought a hero would say, he spoke, “You sure you want to do this?” Silently, unfazed by Jason’s tough guy impersonation, the little guy continued on. “All right, but you’ve been warned,” Jason said, but his words sounded a bit forced.

  Misty again tugged on his arm. “Please Jason,” she begged. “There’re three of them.”

  “Yeah,” Jason scoffed as he dropped his right leg back into what he considered to be a fighting stance. “There’s only three of them. I guess they didn’t hear about the three guys I whipped in the ally the other night.” He stressed “in the ally” making it sound like he was an ally fighter… whatever that was. He’d heard the term before anyways.

  The baby-faced Spanish kid approached with arrogance and too much confidence for Jason’s taste. The doctor and this elf needed to be taught a lesson. It was a bit humiliating that they thought the little guy’s size would do justice to Jason’s abilities. Just for spite, Jason decided he was going to put a little realism into his acting. If the doctor couldn’t respect his strength any more than this then Jason was going to show him what happens when he sends a child to do a man’s job.

  Stepping forward for the element of surprise, Jason threw a hard, looping right towards the little guy’s head, anticipating that wonderful feeling of his fist making connection... but it never came.

  With no impact to counteract his swing, Jason was left strung out. Lights exploded in his head as a solid fist struck his jaw. The ground blurred, seeming to spin. His legs turned to rubber. Several seconds ticked by as Jason staggered, trying to put the world back into proportion. His assailant walked around behind him, placing himself between Jason and Misty. And there he stood patiently. What was happening? No one was supposed to get hurt. The doctor had promised.

  Jason turned and faced his attacker, but behind the short young man, something else caught Jason’s focus. Misty. The other two men were approaching her.

  “Leave her alone,” Jason shouted.

  The next few moments went by in flashes of darkness and light as his attacker stepped forward and struck him in the face, again and again. Jason stumbled backwards in an attempt to escape the blows… but they kept coming.

  “What are you doing?” Jason heard himself scream as he raised his hands in a desperate attempt to protect his head.

  Crash! Jason smashed into something behind him and went down on top of it. Cold steel. The merry-go-round. It shook and rattled as he felt his attacker land on top of him. He lifted his head. It was slammed back down by a fist – bounced up – was struck down again… and again… and again in brutal double action.

  Screams coming from his wife registered through the brutal fog. “Jason! Please no… Jason!”

  He heard her struggling. They had her. “Let me go,” she screamed like an enraged, wounded animal. One of the men cried out in pain. The other grunted like he’d been hit.

  “Stop it!” Jason heard her cry. She sounded closer. “Stop hitting him!”

  Her blurry image appeared as she latched onto the kid’s shoulder and began trying to drag him off. Jason felt his head finally come to rest. The attack had ended as abruptly as it began. His assailant slowly rose from his position where he had been straddling Jason’s chest then calmly turned and walked away a short distance.

  After a moment, Jason could feel his wife run her hand under his head, lifting it up slightly. “Jason, Jason, please baby, please be okay,” she cried.

  He groaned in response and tried to lift his head on his own but was unable. His limbs didn’t respond to the commands he gave. He was limp and useless. His pride and his strength were gone.

  Now his attacker seemed to have the manners of a perfect gentleman because, with arms folded politely behind his back and with the sobriety of a funeral director, he stood quietly by. Yet, when the ugly one approached and cocked his foot back as if to kick Misty, his calm composure shattered. “Hey!” he yelled with a wild, threating look in his eyes. “You hurt her, you answer to me!”

  “But she bit me,” the ugly one defended, holding up his wounded thumb.

  “Well, if she’s got rabies we’ll vaccinate her but probably just shoot your worthless hide,” the leader spoke harshly.

  Blood covered Jason’s face and as Misty tried to wipe it away with the bottom of her shirt, she was talking to him. “Come on, baby. Sit up. Please – talk to me,” she begged.

  He could feel her tears landing on his face as her pleas fell on his ears. Her arms circled around him. He felt her try to lift him up. He had to get up. He felt her necklace dangling against his cheek. She was tugging on him. He could feel the desperate tension in her body. She was forcing him up. With all of his might Jason tried to sit up… but he was still too limp. She lowered him back down.

  Jason heard the leader yelling, “Can you two idiots handle her or have I got to do it myself?”

  Handle her? They could only be talking about Misty. Jason knew she had only one chance. “Run!” he ordered in a harsh whisper. “Run!”

  “I can’t leave you, Jason,” she pleaded.

  “You have no choice,” he uttered in a raspy voice.

  “I can’t leave you,” she repeated in a decided voice as she buried her head next to his. He felt her grip tighten as she locked her hands together underneath him.

  “Come on, let him go,” the ugly one instructed Misty.

  In response, she clung even tighter. Jason tried to return her embrace but succeeded in only getting one of his arms up to rest on her side.

  “Now darling, don’t be scared. I promise we’ll take good care of you,” the ugly one sneered as he bent over and latched onto her arm. The other guy, still hidden by the hood, stood on her other side and followed suit.

  Jason felt himself being torn back and forth as if two hungry wolves were trying to ripe the flesh off of his carcass. His wife clung to him with tremendous strength, but having savage forces pulling on her from each side, her grip finally began to break.

  “No!” he heard her scream. “Please, leave us alone!”

  A few more forceful yanks and their strength prevailed, pulling her away. And two halves that made each other whole were torn apart.

  Jason stretched his hand upward desperately, grasping... nothing. “Misty,” he voiced h
oarsely. “I’m sorry, Misty.” But his remorseful cry was unheard over the scuffle.

  He could hear them dragging her away as she kicked and cried out his name, and there was nothing he could do to rescue her. Then her screams and pleas became muffled, soon dying off all together. He could still feel the warmth from where her body had lain against him. She was as close and there as ever one moment… the next she was gone.

  Chapter Six

  Jason looked up towards the sky. The trees seemed to be spinning… slowly at first, but soon the combination of dark skies, stars, and the leaves above became nothing but a blur. He initially thought he was seeing an illusion, due to the fact that he had just been beaten senseless… but then he felt himself began to shift towards the outer edge of the merry-go-round. That was when he realized he really was spinning.

  Allowing the centrifugal force of the whirling merry-go-round to roll his head over in the direction of its outer edge, Jason caught a quick glimpse of the Spanish kid, his tormentor, flash by, spinning him faster and faster. The next time around, his attacker was squatted down beside the merry-go-round.

  “Hey,” he called out as Jason zipped by. He then began to ask a question in intervals as Jason came around again and again. “How does,” on the first lap, “it feel,” on the second, “to be,” on the third, “a loser?” Jason united the broken question and the answer to it came easy. Terrible. It felt terrible to be a loser.

  Next time around, the young man had risen to his feet. “You’d better hang on,” he told Jason. “It’s going to be a wild ride.” On the next rotation, the young, baby-faced fighter was walking away, and the next he was gone.

  Jason had been gradually slipping towards the edge the entire time, but now he was on a part of the metal that had been worn down by the feet of children at play. Soon, he felt himself begin to slide faster and faster. He tried to reach out and grasp some means of support, but his hands felt like spaghetti.