by T S Paul
“Wishful? Well, okay. Thinking? That is what we need to do.”
“Even if I agree to attempt to rescue more people, what makes you think we can find them?”
“It is funny you should ask. Even in my semi-awake state, I recognized that there are other beings here with me. I noticed that there are areas that seem to be safer and more popular for the shadowed figures to gather.”
Oleg stared at Pavel’s form, noticing that it looked more solid and real now than it had when they first started to speak. Looking down at his own body, Oleg also saw that he was looking less transparent. Perhaps the connections they were forging with each other would help them both. Taking that to the next logical step, perhaps the more connections they built, the abler they would be in whatever world they chose.
There was really no reason to keep thinking about this. Duty had called once more. And Oleg considered his oath to be binding even after his death and destruction. He had sworn to perform the duties and fulfill the responsibilities of the Volkhvy. This was simply the next stage of fulfilling that vow.
With a rueful smile on his face, Oleg asked his friend, “Okay, we will do it your way. Where do you want to start?”
Watch Where You Dig
by TS Paul
Kansas is boring.
I sighed as I looked out my office window. If someone had told me there was an FBI posting in the ass-end-of-nowhere like Larkin, Kansas I would have laughed. How I ended up here is even more laughable.
"Agent Mills, how could you be so stupid?"
I winced at the tone of SAIC Peterson's rant. It really wasn't my fault. Not really. How was I supposed to know that the local police force wasn't involved in the investigation?
"We informed everyone that this was to be kept under wraps until the raid was over. YOU and YOU alone let the damn suspect get away! What were you thinking?" Peterson's face was a livid red as he screamed at me.
Opening my mouth to speak he cut me off.
"Don't speak! Did it not occur to you that the police force would talk to the mayor? That maybe the man you spoke to wasn't related to the man we were about to arrest for charges as long as my arm? What possessed you to even try to sabotage this investigation?" The red-faced, screaming man stopped and stared at me.
I looked left and then right. Standing on either side of me was the field commander and the chief investigator. Both men that I had reported to for the first time not three hours ago. Minutes before it went to hell. They looked as mad as the Special Agent. Swallowing and then clearing my throat I launched into my story.
"Sir. It was my first day with the unit. I arrived on the scene less than an hour after arriving on station here. The Agent in charge of the office handed me a box of radio equipment to take to the field operation. He directed me to give it to the command staff in the main truck. I was not informed at that time what the operation even was." I took a breath and continued. "I used my phone to locate the operation when the directions I was given didn't make sense. After I had driven down three one-way streets, I stopped to ask a local LEO for help. It was my first day. No one briefed me on anything."
Turning to my left, I looked at the field commander. "Sir. You took the box from headquarters and ordered me to watch the rear of the van. Never once did you explain the operation or who any of the suspects even were. Even I didn't know the mistake I made until I went inside the operations van. And that was only because he is the one that handed me the briefing file. But even that was too late. I was watching the team bust into the Mayor's office when I asked about the bust. I didn't erase my phone searches, and I was driving one of the team’s vehicles. Checking the basic facts of my story shouldn't be too hard. At least that's what I told the Agent from Internal Affairs."
I was standing at the FBI's version of attention, so I missed the wince that both men gave the SAIC. Peterson's face was still mottled with red from his anger, but the scowl was gone. For the moment he was at a loss for words. Just for a moment. "Mills wait outside while we discuss this."
As soon as the door closed the yelling began. I can honestly state that I did try to not eavesdrop on the conversation. Neither did the others in the main room and out in the hall. It was just that loud.
I learned three things from the whole debacle. One, always ask for clarification. Ignorance is never a good defense. Lesson two is never ever delete or throw away information taken in the course of your duty. You just never know when a GPS reading or cell phone information search might save your ass. Finally, the third thing was to never, ever anger, the nephew of your regional officer. Nepotism is alive and well in Kansas.
I leaned back in my chair. My record was clean at least. The fallout from that mess was far-reaching, but my career was safe at least. I just needed to not make waves out here on the prairie.
At least I have a window.
<<<>>>
Joshua Downs was bored. The hayride at the county fair didn't work out quite the way he planned it. Betty Sue Falkner was supposed to meet him at the fairgrounds so they could hang out, but she didn't show up. His plan was to hop off the ride halfway so they could 'be alone.' Too bad it didn't work out that way. The fairgrounds were too far out for his cell phone to reach anyone.
The fairgrounds were west of town, and it was starting to get chilly at night. Josh zipped up his lightweight jacket when a cold, chill wind blew up the inside of the coat. The lights from town lit up the sky to the east, but his real destination was off to the left.
Every other weekend he and his buddies dug in a field at night. It was sheer chance that Harry Russel plowed the wrong field a few months ago. Old man O'Loughlin hired him to plow his back forty acres for wheat. Harry plowed the wrong field instead. It technically belonged to the state of Kansas, but none of the townspeople could ever remember someone checking up on it.
"Josh is that you?" A flashlight beam caught Josh right in the eyes.
Blinded, Josh yelled at the other boy. "Leo if you don't put that light down I'm going to pop you with it!"
"I was just checkin' no need to get all violent like." Leo Dillon lowered his flashlight and motioned for the older boy to come over. "We thought you had a date?"
"So did I. She stood me up."
"Man, that sucks. At least you will make some money with us." Leo replied.
"I'd rather be getting sweaty with her than muddy with you two." Josh stripped off his coat and grabbed a shovel. When Harry plowed the wrong field, he exposed a treasure trove of pots, shards, and other native artifacts. Stuff that could bring big money to someone without any.
"Harry found a skeleton. Do you want to see it?" Leo pointed with his shovel.
"That's cool. Was there a skull? I bet that guy we met in Deerfield would pay us big bucks for something like that. Was it intact?" Josh asked.
Harry held up the object in question and shone a light on it. "What do you think? Spooky, right?"
The skull was misshapen and bigger than usual for a human.
"What else did you find?" Josh slogged through the freshly turned earth to take a look.
"A bunch of junk. Chains, some pot shards, and some big rocks. The rocks were on top of the skeleton."
Josh pawed at the pile of stuff. "These chains look really old. Could they be from Indian times?"
"No way. They didn't use metal stuff back then. Has to be from a farmer or something. Just toss them." Leo dug a little deeper with his shovel.
Josh pulled the mud-laden chains off the skeleton and threw them away from the dig.
"Harry, did your dad ever answer my question?" Josh shook the mud off his hands and grabbed his shovel.
"The one about more mounds?"
"Yes. Did he know if this one is one like that?" Josh pointed toward the mound just outside of town.
"Like I'd tell him about our project. I told him we were discussing it in school. He said the same thing Mrs. Jenkins said. That one was the only mound found. Pot hunters and farmers picked the area pretty clean. Nobody
cared about mounds a century ago. If they existed, they were plowed down a long time ago." Harry stopped digging for a moment.
"So he doesn't know about this one then. Good. More for us."
As the boys dug, the moon rose higher and higher into the sky. At midnight the church bells rang in the distance and a light fog began to roll into the area. The already cool fall night turned damp and colder.
"It's really getting cold out here." Leo rubbed his arms and looked around for his coat.
"That means winter might be early this year. The snow will help hide our spot." Josh continued to dig. The same clammy chill was seeping through his clothing.
A faint sound in the distance caught Harry's attention. "Hey stop! Did you hear that?"
The other boys stopped and listened for just a moment. The night was still. Not even the night birds called to each other.
"I don't hear anything, keep digging. The moon will only be full for so long this week." Josh replied.
The sound of a low moan drifted across the field.
Like a prairie dog, Leo's head popped up and looked around. "Who's there? Did you guys hear that?"
"No. Hear what?" Harry stopped digging just as the screams began.
<<<>>>
Sheriff Alexander was waiting for me as I pulled into my parking space at the office. He was leaning against a patrol car with his hat over his eyes. Even though he looked asleep, I was pretty sure he was faking. My office was located on the edge of town in a very run down old building that used to house the town's post office. That facility moved almost twenty years previously according to the town gossips. It was now located in neighboring Deerfield.
"Good morning Sheriff. A bit early for you, isn't it?" I glanced at my watch.
The man removed his hat from his face and stood up. "I might say the same thing about you."
I felt my face blush just a tiny bit. When I first arrived and opened up the office Alexander paid me a visit. This was a very small town, and new people were always very interesting.
Knock, knock.
I was on my knees under a desk dusting and cleaning. I saw a tall man in a cowboy hat standing in my doorway.
"Howdy."
Brushing off my pants I stood and smiled up at him. "Hello. Something I could help you with..." I paused as I spotted his badge. "Sheriff?"
"Just watching. Sam over at the drug store told me we had an FBI Agent here, but I didn't believe her. What brings you to my town, Agent?
"Mills. Madeline Mills. This is my new station." I spread my arms to both sides.
The Sheriff's eyes widened. "Here? For real?"
I nodded.
"Agent Mills, who did you piss off? There hasn't been an Agent stationed here in living memory. The late 1960s I think, was the last time we saw any of your people without an ongoing case. And before you ask, we have very few that require federal help. It's Sheriff Alexander, but you can call me George." He actually tipped his hat to me.
I nodded. "That would explain the rotary phone I found on the desk. Here's a word of advice for you. Never piss off the top three Agents at your station all at the same time. It sorta sucks. This is my penance, so to speak. Come in. Can I get you..." I looked behind me. "Water? I have nothing here yet."
George made it a habit to check in on me about once a week rain or shine after that. I've been here for six months so far and know most the town. I've become a regular at the local diner which in itself is scary.
Smiling I asked. "What's up?"
"We have some missing kids. I'm getting the auxiliaries together to start looking and thought you might like to know. I did promise to keep you in the loop around here."
My brain automatically skipped into FBI speak. "How many and how long?"
"Three. High school age. They never came home after the county fair two days ago. It's not all that unusual for some of the kids around here to spend the night out sometimes. But for two days on a school night is highly unusual. Especially one of the boys." George looked very concerned.
I inclined my head. "Step into my office George. I can at least put out a statewide BOLO and inform the main office. We might have more results than you will."
"Thanks, Madeline. I've called my counterpart over in Deerfield as well as Kansas City, but big cities and all, they can't devote time to it."
I found it hard to think of Deerfield as a big city. "Let me call the main office and see what we can do. Hold on a moment."
Stepping over to my desk I picked up the phone and dialed the main office in KC. I might be in exile, but I was still in the FBI. After a moment the section chief's assistant answered the phone. "Assistant Chief Taylor? This is Agent Mills at the Larkin office. I've got a missing person case here and need permission to help the locals."
There was a pause and a moment of heavy breathing.
"Chief?"
"Agent Mills, is it?" The voice was heavy and sharp. I only met the man a single time when I was there.
"Yes, Sir?"
"I don't know who you think you are, but we don't have an office in Larkin, wherever the hell that is. This is a private official line. If you call this number again, I will have you arrested." I could hear the phone slam down.
Standing in my office with an old-fashioned phone in my hand must have looked quite comical. No office in Larkin? Was I off the books here? "That was interesting."
"I see that," George answered.
"If this office doesn't exist, then I'm free to help you. Can I catch up to you? I need to send a few messages."
"Sure. We're gathering out at Ted's Feed and Seed. It's about halfway to the fairgrounds from there. We figure to search in both directions at the same time. I've got extra radios and grid search tablets in my emergency supplies." George replied.
"Fancy. I'll be along in an hour or so. Is that OK?"
"Dandy. See you then." The Sheriff waved as he drove off.
What is up with KC? I have an official vehicle, weapons, and supplies here. They were still taking my messages not two weeks ago. Something must have happened. I grabbed the phone and made a few calls. Kansas City might be ignoring me, but I still needed to report my whereabouts to someone. Using up a couple of favors I called a couple of my classmates from the Academy and had them report to their supervisors for me. Better to be safe than sorry.
After a quick stop at my tiny apartment to change my clothes and grab my briefcase, I caught up with the local posse at the feed store.
There were maybe twenty jacked-up pickup trucks parked haphazardly all over the parking lot. My little compact car really stuck out. Several men stood around the Sheriff along with dogs on leashes. George looked up from his conversation and motioned to me.
"Boys this is Agent Mills of the FBI. She’s from our new local office and has volunteered to give us a hand. As a favor to me, don't give her too hard a time." George quickly introduced me to the major players.
"This is what we know. Joshua Downs was last seen on the hayride around midnight. He apparently left the ride halfway through." George immediately held up his hands to defend himself.
"Who's the idiot that let him off the ride? We have rules to prevent crap like that. What's the use of vetting the drivers?"
"Madeline, meet Principle Herman Meister," George answered my unasked question.
"Nice to meet you. You said you vetted the drivers?" I asked.
"Of course, we did. We might be off the beaten path, but we care for our children here. The hayride driver was actually one of our bus drivers. Nathan Shore. He's been with the school for more than thirty years. Do you want me to call him?" Principal Meister pulled out a phone.
I shook my head. "If everyone knows him, he will be easy to find. Who are the other kids?"
"Leo Dillon and Harry Russel. They are always seen together, and some of Herman's teachers think they share a brain or something. Both told their parents they were meeting up with the other boy." George referred to his notes.
Trying to remember
my classes on kidnappings and manhunts I stammered out my questions. "Do they have shared interests or hobbies? How about girlfriends, have we asked them?"
Principle Meister answered. "All three are loners. Of late, they've been hanging out together after class. But neither my teachers nor I know of any romantic attachments."
"I hate to ask, but what about drugs or alcohol? Could they be sleeping it off somewhere?" I looked at George.
"No! Absolutely not. No way my son would do any of that crap. We've taught him to be..." A man standing behind the principle pushed his way through the other men.
"Peter! She's not accusing you or Harry of anything. Slow the hell down." George laid his hand on the what I assume was one of the boy's father's shoulder.
"But George, she said that..." Peter stammered.
"She has to ask questions like that. It's how we in law enforcement do things. We all want to find those boys. How else can Larkin beat Deerfield in football next year?" George calmed the man down.
"Agent Mills, this is Peter Russel. As you can see he's Harry's father. Peter works for the state over at the research extension."
I held out my hand to the man. "Mr. Russel, I will do everything in my power to help find your son. Do you have any clues as to where they may have gone?"
Russel shook his head. "My wife and I have been racking our brains to figure out a clue to this. Any clue."
When he paused, I realized we were holding up the search just standing out here. "Sheriff? Is there a place I can use for interviews? Let me take Peter here and start my questions, and you can get a move on. Those dogs look like they want a nap or something." I pointed to the now sleeping dogs.
The men around us all chuckled and started waking the hounds up. George tipped his hat to me and pointed me toward the feed store. "Tell Jessie I said you could use the meeting room."
George started handing out grid sheets and radios to the groups of men, and everyone started the search. I steered Peter toward the store. "It looks like the Sheriff has a good system set up."
"We get a lost child most winters, or somebody’s cattle get loose. Everyone tries to pitch in around here." Peter was walking blindly wherever I directed him.
