by Gary Starta
Bandanna Man swung around and cut the air with his knife like a fiend in a slasher movie. He tried to regain his composure by acting as if he knew Shenk had been there all along. He talked to Shenk like he talked to his parents—with no respect.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me. Put away the knife and get the hell out of here.”
Shenk was just itching to know if the poker incident had been a fluke. He silently waited for the man’s reply, waving his fingers at Bandanna Man in a summoning motion.
“Who the hell are you to be calling me like I’m sort of animal?” the robber responded. With both hands still raised, Mathews held his ground behind Bandanna Man.
“Who the hell are you to be wearing a bandanna? Didn’t that go out of style thirty years ago?” Shenk mimicked in the man’s tone.
“Where are you from boy? You sound like one of them Texan oilmen. Wait. No, that’s not it. You kinda sound like that fella who runs the country.”
Shenk could not believe his ears. He gave this lunatic a perfect opportunity to slice him in the gut, and this chucklehead could only focus on his dialect.
The strange sparkle in Bandanna Man’s eyes left as quickly as it entered. “I’m not afraid to kill you both to get what I came for.”
Mathews hyperventilated behind the counter, cursing Shenk in his mind. Why are taunting him? You’re unarmed.
The robber waited in response for Shenk’s next barb. But it never came. Shenk needed to test his theory. The boy, who had officially turned eighteen at 10:53 p.m., lunged in the direction of the man’s knife hand.
Shenk missed miserably. He staggered off balance and bounced against the counter. Like a matador, Bandanna Man held both hands up in the air and grunted like a swine. It was now his turn to taunt Shenk. “Missed me, runt.”
As Shenk’s body careened off the counter, it caused a display of chewing gum to fall. Mathews lowered his hands in defense as red-colored packs ricocheted off his body.
Shenk momentarily focused on the store clerk. The distraction allowed Bandanna Man to sink his six-inch switchblade into Shenk’s abdomen. He crumpled to the floor.
Grinning from ear to ear, the attacker refocused his attention on the cashier. He waved his fingers at Mathews, mimicking Shenk’s gesture minutes before.
He demanded the contents of the register. Mathews punched in a code. A beep signaled and the drawer opened, revealing a wad of green bills in various denominations.
Bandanna Man ordered Mathews to put the money in a bag just as Shenk pounced up off the ground. Or did he? From where Mathews stood, Shenk was still on the ground.
A body, which resembled Shenk in great detail, stole the knife away from the robber.
Blood oozed out of his green-striped shirt in the same manner as the body that still lay on the floor.
Josh Mathews’ mouth fell open. It seemed both versions of Shenk were through talking. It only took a New York minute for the knife to find its way into Bandanna Man’s upper chest.
The leather-clad man rocked back and forth, wearing an ill look of a roller coaster rider. He attempted to dislodge the weapon, but his hands couldn’t even grasp it. His breath hissed out, resembling a coal miner’s wheeze. The two Shenks fared no better. Blood continued to pour out from Shenk’s astral projection as well as from the body on the floor like a pounding rainfall. In one simultaneous motion, Bandanna Man and the projection fell to the ground like bowling pins.
Mathews raced to the back room to phone the police. His trembling hands were responsible for several misdials. A span of ten minutes had elapsed since the stabbings.
In that interim, Shenk’s bodies had managed to completely close their wounds and become one again. He recuperated well enough to grab three boxes of chocolate donuts, a fudge brownie, two cocoa-flavored energy drinks, and a stale lemon Danish before retreating to his car.
Mathews returned from the back room to find Bandanna Man lying in a sizable pool of blood. He had died during the phone calls, but his open eyes fixated on Mathews, still demanding the contents of the register.
Mathews finally broke the gaze only to realize an even greater horror. Where was the other man—or was it men? He surely could not have survived his wound. Mathews resumed this internal dialog until police arrived. Did he really see Shenk split into two people? The detectives found Mathews slumped in a corner, mumbling incoherently to himself. The Razorbacks game would pale in comparison.
Chapter 6
The evidence had not even been analyzed, but crime scene investigators were in agreement. The Arrowhead Killer was the individual responsible for the murders in Oklahoma and Arkansas. Both victims had been branded with an arrow-shaped mark. The only difference was anatomic: Charlie Jones got his on the chest, and Bandanna Man, now identified as Ed Hobson, received his across his forehead. Police removed Hobson’s bandanna to find the mark engraved there, almost like it was a third eye.
The revelation that the murders were connected seemed to raise more questions than answers. How could the killer have found time to tattoo his victim? Josh Mathews, the shaken and stirred Quix employee, stated he spent no more than ten minutes in the back room. Investigators gave up interrogating him after noticing he had wet his pants. “There’s no way this trembling kid could have had the dexterity to do such precise work,” one detective surmised. The investigators swabbed Mathews’ mouth to obtain DNA per procedure. “We just have to rule you out kid,” the detective assured him with a pat on the back.
The investigators were not surprised to find that the DNA sample taken from the Quix crime scene was not a match for Josh Mathews. However, they were surprised to learn that the blood sample didn’t match the samples taken from the Elk City crime scene at Charlie Jones’ home. Evidence aside, investigators remained convinced the two killings were connected to the Arrowhead Killer. Soon they would play their hunches to determine if the Arrowhead Killer worked solo or as a team.
The fact that two victims shared the same brand mark led some to believe two killers might be working in tandem—to stake claim to a perverse crown. Oklahoma detectives theorized that a copycat killer could have manipulated a simple robbery to confuse investigators. But the Arkansas detectives did not agree with that theory. They believed the same man was involved in both crimes, maintaining that the perp could have assembled a posse during his trek to Arkansas. Maybe he and another man were now taking turns in the stabbings.
If the killer did have an accomplice—as the DNA analysis suggested—this might have explained how the perp would have been able to brand Hobson while the clerk was in the back room. It also might have explained how a person who suffered extreme blood loss could just walk away from the crime scene. Maybe the accomplice entered the store after Hobson’s murder and drove the injured attacker to a hospital? But why stop to brand the vic? These theories only led to bouts of insomnia, as detectives could not fathom how someone could be so demented. The perp would have risked his life and possible apprehension all for the sake of his sick branding ritual.
Yet, detectives only had a sketchy composite of one man as provided by Mathews. This fact did not aid the two-man theory. Mathews described the young man as having long blond hair. That was all Mathews could remember because he had let his internal dialog get the best of him. The other part of Mathews’ brain fought to dispel the image of the two “Shenks.” Mathews was not about to divulge this tidbit to investigators.
He did not want to be branded crazy by any one other than his mother. Besides, the clerk still retained a modicum of hope he would rebound from the situation and enroll at a university. If Mathews’ mother was present, she would have reminded him that colleges don’t accept applicants who live in rubber rooms.
The store’s video surveillance could not provide one frame of either Shenk. The cameras did get a nice close up though of Hobson just before Mathews cut the power. This image would be plastered on TV and the Internet. Suzy Cheng commented that the still portrayed Ed as
a hateful and callous man “who probably had it coming to him anyway.” But for investigators, a murder was still a murder, even if the vic was a dirt bag.
Mathews also failed to describe the getaway car, to the further annoyance of investigators. He blamed the parking lot’s poor lighting instead of his mind’s errant rambling.
Oklahoma and Arkansas district attorneys eventually petitioned the FBI for assistance—specifically needing an expert psychological profiler and a state-of-the-art crime lab facility. The desperate attempt to work up a description of the suspects from DNA would begin at Quantico, Virginia. The FBI was only too happy to offer the use of its facilities. Moreover, the state prosecutors were informed that the bureau would take over the investigation. All evidence and the two dead bodies were to be transferred to the Quantico crime lab per Director Hainsworth. It was the bureau’s prerogative to assume jurisdiction of the investigation since the felonies had been committed in two different states. But more importantly, it was the FBI director’s futile attempt to save face with the public. In a memo to A.D. Dudek, Hainsworth stated: “Something has got to be done to calm the public.”
Initial searches in law enforcement databases could not produce one match for either blood sample. This meant the suspect or suspects did not have any priors. Investigators were at a loss. The only option was to wait and hope the killer became careless. “This is too dangerous,” Dudek sighed, “because the wait would also allow the killer to possibly injure or murder another victim.” Dudek knew he had to bring in the best—he would contact Diggs tomorrow, whether Hainsworth liked it or not.
***
The public was unaware of the amount of blood that had been spilled at the crime scenes and that there might be more than one “Arrowhead Killer.” This was due to tightened security and what the FBI termed damage control.
There was a nationwide panic after Elk City detectives allowed reporter Ross Fisher to eavesdrop at the crime scene at Charlie Jones’ house. If they had been more careful, maybe America would not be so fixated on the hunt for the “Arrowhead Killer.” You could say Ross Fisher, the thirty-three-year-old beat reporter for the Tulsa Current, had been largely responsible for boosting ratings for Suzie Cheng’s American Murders, frightening men and women to take an extra glance over their shoulder when walking after dark and giving law enforcement one big pain in the rear. Fisher’s story had allowed the media and his audience to piece together the murders in Oklahoma and Arkansas like paper dolls on a string.
The latest discovery of the murder victim at the Quix in Arkansas solidified Fisher’s fame. The lean and lanky Tulsa native was now on the fast track to becoming the national broadcast journalist he always dreamt of. His editor at the Tulsa Current requisitioned a travel budget for Fisher. She wanted her star reporter to devote his full attention to the investigation.
Only people who lived under rocks were unaware of the Arrowhead Killer. The story gained enough momentum in three days to interest Hollywood. The TV show Entertainment or Bust reported movie studios were hiring producers to make a film: “It should make a great holiday movie,” the bubbly cohost enthused.
At the same time, national cable news programs devoted a lion’s share of their night casts to the subject. Debates raged. Suzie Cheng classified the perpetrator as ritualistic because of the brand marks; however, competitors disagreed: “He or she is definitely a spree killer. The victims had nothing in common. They were crimes of opportunity.”
The constant media attention would soon undermine the FBI’s hope to keep a lid on the investigation. Eugene “Bull Tongue” Campbell planned to give Ross Fisher an exclusive.
Chapter 7
The following press release ran in the Saturday edition of the Cheyenne Times in the “Things To Do” section:
HISTORIAN TO SPEAK IN CHEYENNE
Eugene “Bull Tongue” Campbell has spent the better part of his life educating young people about the Cheyenne, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He is honored to represent the voice of the Native American people who were never afraid to challenge adversity. Campbell himself is a descendant of the tribe that made their home in western Oklahoma and Colorado during the nineteenth century despite many hardships.
“Honor, sacrifice, and love of nature are often associated with the Cheyenne; however, we should realize these attributes should be part of a universal doctrine. If we respect each other as well as the land around us, all of us can lead productive and prosperous lives.”
This quote is quite familiar to the thousands who have attended Bull Tongue’s lectures.
Campbell’s devotion to speaking is unrivaled. His talks have been heard by hundreds of midwestern school children. Thousands more have experienced his heartfelt sentiments on video. Campbell prides himself on providing a factual account of what life was like on the plains nearly 150 years ago. When Campbell speaks, one can be sure his tales are filled with historical accuracy. He is often quick to dismiss any stories based on hearsay. The native Oklahoman believes any story not based on facts disgraces the name of his people.
With a Native American bloodline and a master’s degree in American History, Campbell is sure to find a way to peak the interest of even the most fidgety child. Despite his focus on young people, Campbell does not exclude adults from his lectures. He has appeared on several network talk shows including Heartland Pulse and New Morning. He will also release a book next year, which traces his genealogy all the way back to the early nineteenth century.
Campbell says he became a historian to honor his ancestors who survived many hardships, such as a brief relocation to Wyoming in order to bring him into this world. He never goes one day without remembering his forefathers’ monumental suffering and endurance. He says his goal in life is a simple one: “We must maintain a constant awareness of the Cheyenne people’s sacrifices so that horrible incidents like the Sand Creek Massacre are never repeated.”
There is also a lighter side to Campbell. He is quite popular with the students and often tells as many jokes as stories during his presentations. He rarely delivers a speech without wearing his gray wool jacket that sports several colorful drawings including a stark white bull, a black crow, and a crimson hawk. The jacket along with his silver-streaked, jet-black hair has made Campbell nearly as famous with young teens as any of Billboard’s top ten rappers.
The public is invited to attend Campbell’s presentation, which will be held at the Jones Elementary School in Cheyenne this Monday evening at 7:30. Admission is $10 dollars for adults, $5 for children and seniors. Tickets may be purchased at the door.
***
Unfortunately, Campbell would cancel the above presentation because the unthinkable was happening. Reading the top story in the Sunday edition of the Tulsa Current, Campbell could not ignore the shiver that ran up and down his spine.
Ross Fisher’s account of the Arrowhead Killer chilled the blood in Campbell’s veins. Only the most devastating news had the power to extinguish the trademark twinkle in his dark brown eyes. And today, the local media had accomplished this task.
The story unwittingly touched upon the one legend Campbell could never fully document—the Arrowhead crystal. The Tulsa journalist described the arrowhead without making one reference to Cheyenne lore; however, Campbell knew this omission was probably due to ignorance. According to myth, the crystal had been returned to the earth after providing a safe rite of passage for a Cheyenne chief named Circling Hawk in 1864. If it had been uncovered from its resting place, dark days would surely follow.
Campbell himself frowned upon talking about the crystal, which was rumored to have been blessed by the Great Spirit during a vision quest. “Any claims about the crystal and its purpose are subject to extreme speculation,” Campbell once said during a student question-and-answer period. Personally, he was quite intrigued with the story. The crystal could quite possibly be responsible for his birth. Yet he would never admit this to anyone. “Only selfish people indulge themselves with myths,” Camp
bell’s grandfather, High Cloud, would preach. If Campbell had chosen to exploit the myth, he probably would have become a best-selling author. However, High Cloud always reminded his grandson to follow an honorable path out of respect to nature.
Today, Bull Tongue would be forced to take a quite different stance. If the pendant truly existed, it had the potential to cause great harm. Only a person of the purest spirit could positively link themselves to the power of the crystal. And the suspect described in the newspaper article sure didn’t sound like a holy man.
Campbell commanded his body to relax. He entered into a dream state to seek advice. A voice reminiscent of High Cloud encouraged him in the Algonquian tongue to alert the public of any danger. “You are a loud voice among many. As long as your intentions are good, you may bring a dark secret into the light.”
When Eugene Campbell awoke, a modern day translation in English filled his head: “Any hint of a connection between the fabled stone and the Arrowhead Killer must be addressed for the public’s safety.” The die had been cast. Campbell could no longer afford to consider his reputation first. He would have to overcome his self-pride and deal in hearsay for the sake of all people. Preservation was now the paramount concern. He realized his calling in life gave him great power to influence people, and he would now use this to his advantage. He would contact the Tulsa Current in a quest to protect all of nature’s children.
***
ARROWHEAD BRANDINGS MAY HAVE HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE
By Ross Fisher, Staff Writer
CHEYENNE, Okla. – A local historian claims the Arrowhead Killer may be working in tandem with a sacred stone. Eugene “Bull Tongue” Campbell fears the brand marks left on last week’s regional murder victims are connected with a Native American pendant from the 1800s. Out of concern for residents, Campbell has come forward to caution anyone from engaging in physical contact with the yet unidentified murder suspect.
