by Ron Ripley
“Yes,” Philip said, chuckling. “Very true.”
“What’s the hold-up?”
Alex turned to see Timmy walking towards them.
“Hey, kid,” Timmy said.
“Hi,” Alex said cheerfully. “I think they want something, but they haven’t said what.”
Turning back to Philip, Alex asked, “Is there something your men want?”
“Scalps,” Philip stated. Alex relayed the request.
“Scalps, huh?” Timmy nodded and said, “Tell you what, you get them to drag the bodies as close to the fence as they can, and I will personally scalp anyone they want. Alive or dead, for that matter.”
Alex translated again and saw a curious expression settle over the dead man’s face.
“Would he?” Philip asked softly.
“Yes,” Alex said. “If he said it, he means it. I know that much about him.”
“Then we have an accord,” Philip said. “Tell your friend we will do this thing. The bodies will be left near the fence. We want our scalps.”
As the dead Huron left, Alex relayed the final part of the conversation to Timmy.
“Yeah, we’ll get the scalps for them,” Timmy murmured. Then, looking at Alex, he said, “Kid, I’ve got to know. Have you figured out why you can talk to them?”
Alex shook his head. “No. I wish I did. It’s like, whenever I hear a bit of another language, I know it. Maybe it has something to do with my hair changing color?”
“No,” Timmy chuckled. “I think your hair changing color is its own thing. The language bit, it’s strange. Have you tried to tell them to do anything else?”
Alex felt his eyes widen as he shook his head.
“No way,” Alex said vehemently. “I don’t want to. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary. Then, yeah. I’ll tell them.”
“Huh, okay,” Timmy said. He took several steps past Alex, stopped, and turned around, so his back was to the gate.
“Kid,” Timmy said in a whisper, “the guards are watching us. More than usual. Has anyone tried to get into the Village today?”
“No,” Alex replied without looking at the gate. “I saw a few more patrols than usual. I thought it was strange.”
“It is strange,” Timmy muttered. “Stepped up patrols, more guards. It means David’s taking a little more control. Either Worthe’s off on a trip, or he’s losing his mind. I really hope it’s the latter.”
“I don’t,” Alex said, clenching his hands into fists.
Timmy looked down at him. “Why?”
Alex felt hatred surge through him.
“I want him to suffer,” Alex said in a low voice, “and I want him to know why.”
***
David sat in his room, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is absurd. He can’t have done it.”
“I took the liberty of checking the footage,” Nurse Schomp said. “Trust me when I tell you he did exactly what he said.”
“He’s losing his mind,” David muttered.
The nurse nodded her agreement.
He took a deep breath, cleared his head and straightened up. “All right. What do we do about it?”
She looked at him with a dazed expression for a split-second, then she let out a high-pitched, almost nervous laugh. “Do about it? David, he needs to be put away. In a specialized facility where they can deal with this type of neurosis. He’s only going to get worse. There’s no real coming back from what he did. He needs professional help, which is not what he’s going to get here in the middle of nowhere.”
“There’s no one we can call in?” David asked, horrified.
She shook her head. “No one. Not unless we want to have him carted off to a facility.”
“Not an option,” David said fiercely.
“I’m telling you what could be done,” she snapped. “I’m not advocating for it.”
“Sorry,” he grumbled. He stood up and paced about his room. “He’s worked too hard for all this. We can’t let it slide.”
“We won’t,” Nurse Schomp said tightly. “We all have too much at stake here.”
David thought of Jane and nodded. “I’m going to control to see if there’s been a report in since the storm. Do you want to come?”
The nurse hesitated before she answered. “No. I would rather wait for her to be home than to only hear her voice. I wouldn’t mind knowing how she’s doing, though.”
Without another word, Nurse Schomp left his room, closing the door behind her.
David’s phone rang, and he picked it up. “Hello.”
“David, it’s Jose. We have a situation,” the other man said.
“What’s going on?” David asked.
“It’s better if you got down to control,” Jose replied.
“Copy,” David said and ended the call. He left his room quickly, covering the distance from his door to that of the control room in a matter of minutes. When he stepped in, he found Jose and Ellen beside the monitors. They moved aside for him, and he leaned closer for a better look.
Professor Abel Worthe was sitting on the ground beside the extinguished pyre.
“Vehicle, now,” David said coldly, exiting the room without waiting for a response. By the time he reached the front door, a Humvee was waiting for him. Before he was even settled in, the driver took off, tearing over the snow-covered road toward the pyre. As they pulled into the small glade, David saw the professor was still by the burnt remains.
“Call in the medical team,” David said to the driver. “Make certain Nurse Schomp is leading it.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said as David exited the vehicle.
David walked in a wide circle, approaching the professor at a slight angle in order to be seen. But Professor Worthe didn’t seem to take notice.
“Sir,” David said, speaking in a loud, clear voice.
Professor Worthe turned his head slowly. His eyes were sunken with dark circles beneath them. For the first time since David had known him, the professor was unshaven. His hair was disheveled, and David suspected the man was still dressed in his bedclothes.
“David,” the professor said, speaking his name as if in a daze. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Sir,” David said carefully. “We’re not in your room. The two of us are outside. Can’t you feel the cold?”
“No,” Professor Worthe murmured. “I don’t. Are you certain we’re outside?”
“Quite sure, sir,” David said. He came to a stop several feet away from the professor. “Sir, we have a Humvee ready to take you home.”
“No,” the professor said. “I can’t go home. Not yet. She’s dead, you see.”
“I know she is, sir,” David said. “Someone killed her. We’re still looking for the shooter.”
“You’ll find her here,” Professor Worthe said, gesturing towards the pyre. “I’ve already found some of her.”
David took a cautious step forward. “What do you have, sir?”
Professor Worthe held out his hands and opened them. Several cracked teeth were cupped in his palms.
“They’re not nearly as beautiful as when she was alive,” the professor said. “But still, they’re part of her. I was thinking of having them made into cufflinks. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, David?”
“It would,” David lied. “Are you ready to get warm, sir?”
“I suppose I am,” Professor Worthe said. David stepped forward and helped the elderly man to his feet. The stench of sweat and unwashed flesh assailed David’s nose, and he struggled to maintain his composure. The rank scent of the man was out of character and for the first time, David realized the nurse might be right.
He may have to go away for a while, David thought, horrified. Maybe even a long time.
Guiding the professor toward the Humvee to wait for the medical team, David hoped he was wrong.
Chapter 31: Twisting Fate
“I want to blow it up.”
Marcus looked at his son to see if Timmy was joking, but there was no evid
ence the man was.
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Marcus asked.
“Can’t be any worse than you sneaking off to chat with the ghost,” Timmy replied, and Alex snickered by the hearth. “See, the kid thinks I’m funny.”
“You’re hysterical,” Marcus said dryly. “I confess, I don’t seem to have an excellent track record of dealing with some of these new ghosts. Be that as it may, however, will destroying the house do anything for us? What I mean, Timmy, is will the removal of the house assist us in fortifying the Village? Also, can we expect the explosion to eliminate the bayonet and thus the dead man in his entirety?”
“Too many big words,” Timmy said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You lost me at ‘hysterical.’”
Alex covered his mouth as he laughed.
“Sorry, sorry,” Timmy said, winking at the boy. “Anyway, listen. You’re right. Blowing up the house isn’t going to get rid of the bayonet. What it will do, is let us use the wreckage to make some barriers. I don’t think Worthe is going to try an air-assault to try and grab the kid or reassert his dominance here. Especially not if David’s in command. They’ll want to take the place back with minimal casualties and damage. When I say casualties, I mean us. When I say minimal damage, I mean the Village and whatever guards he may have left.”
“So, the destruction of the house will serve to protect us?” Marcus asked, feeling less than convinced.
“Well, I hope so,” Timmy said. All humor was gone from the man’s voice. “I don’t want to do anything if it’s not going to help protect us.”
“The ghosts will help me,” Alex offered. “I can make them help all of us.”
Marcus smiled at the boy. “I worry about you, Alex. I don’t want you to press your luck with the dead. One of them may decide you’re no longer entertaining.”
“No,” Alex said, his voice filled with deadly seriousness. “They never will. I’m in charge.”
Marcus looked at the child with surprise, and Alex blushed, looking down at his hands.
“I am,” Alex said in a smaller voice. “They know it, too. They can feel it, the same way we can see my hair’s changing color. Each one knows I’m, well, I’m in charge. Does that sound weird?”
“No,” Marcus said gently. “Not at all.”
“What would happen if they didn’t listen to you?” Timmy asked.
“They’d hurt,” Alex said. “A lot.”
“How do you hurt a ghost?” Timmy’s question echoed the one Marcus wanted to ask.
“You just do,” Alex said. “I’m not sure. But you just do.”
“Well,” Timmy said with a broad grin. “I think it’s time I give it a try.”
Before Marcus could stop his son, the man had left the house.
***
Timmy whistled as he walked across the street. He paused only once to wave at the guard tower, and whoever was in it waved back. Still whistling, Timmy entered the small New England cape, and he wondered how his father had done it.
Takes a lot of sack to come in here, Timmy thought. Got to admit. The old man’s definitely got some courage in there. No wonder mom liked him.
The reminder of his mother’s death and the discovery of his father’s courage both shook him. Head in the game, Timmy. We’re going to go see someone who used to gut people with a bayonet for fun. When he was alive. Seems like he’s trying to do the same thing now. Got to capture that feeling.
Timmy reached the front door, knocked once and threw it open, proclaiming, “Room service!”
When no one answered him, Timmy stepped further in.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Is this place available for youth group? I got a bunch of kids who need a place to shoot up if you know what I mean.”
Frowning, Timmy walked around the small house and discovered two important pieces of information. First, the ghost wasn’t around. Second, the bayonet was missing.
Timmy left the house far quieter than when he entered it.
***
“Patrol one to David.”
David keyed his microphone and responded, “Go for David, patrol.”
“Copy, David,” the patrol leader said. “Advise on situation.”
“Information,” David said.
“Three Native American ghosts, copy,” the patrol leader said.
“Leave them be,” David said, frowning.
“David, the ghosts are on the wrong side of the fence,” the leader said coolly.
David shook his head. “Say again all after ghosts.”
“I say again,” the patrol leader said, “are on the wrong side of the fence.”
“Immediate extraction, patrol,” David snapped. “Call in all guards, retreat to mobile command and secure. Do you copy?”
“Copy. Out,” the patrol leader said.
David moved quickly from his room to the command center. He didn’t recognize the person sitting before the banks of computers, and he didn’t ask their name. Instead, he stated, “All exterior cameras, look for retreating patrol.”
“Copy sir,” the operator said. “Attained.”
An image appeared on one of the screens, enlarged for greater clarity. David leaned forward, nodding his head with approval as the four-man team retreated efficiently, pausing to fire and cover in two man fire teams.
“Oh hell,” the operator whispered, pointing a finger at the screen.
David squinted and saw what the man had seen.
The morning sun reflected off a bayonet.
Chapter 32: A Change in the Layout
Abel Worthe rubbed at his chin, surprised at the amount of stubble there.
I didn’t shave today, he thought idly, dropping his hand to the back of the technician’s chair. The woman glanced up at him, her expression one of mingled concern and curiosity.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said after a moment, “but could you repeat your request, please?”
“Of course,” he said happily. “I want you to turn off the electricity in the Village. Only two places will retain power. 114 Broad and Christopher’s, if you would be so kind.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice uncertain. Worried he might be crowding her too much, Abel took a considerate step back. Far enough to give her some privacy, close enough to still see his orders were being carried out.
Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, pausing to strike certain numbers and letters. As Abel watched, a new window opened up. A schematic of the Village, with an overlaid image of the electrical grid, appeared. The woman leaned forward, clicking the radio buttons on various houses. Abel smiled as building after building went dark on the screen.
Soon, only Christopher’s home and 114 remained powered.
“Done, sir,” the woman said.
“Excellent,” Abel said cheerfully. “Now, if you would be so kind, I would like you to increase the power in the generators.”
“Both structures, sir?” she asked.
Abel shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Only in Christopher’s, if you please.”
She nodded, changed several fields with a few keystrokes and said, “Done, sir.”
“Thank you!” Abel clapped his hands together cheerfully.
“Um, sir,” the woman said hesitantly. “Can I ask why you had me do that?”
“Yes,” Abel said, grinning. “Increasing the power to Christopher’s house is the supernatural equivalent of giving steroids to a bodybuilder. If Subject B and Timmy thought Christopher was strong before, well, wait until he’s had a little time to feed off the grid.”
He chuckled, shook his head and gave the woman a paternal pat on the shoulder before he exited the room.
***
David sat at the head of the small table, flanked on either side by Jose and Ellen. They were the only two members of the original team he trusted completely.
In silence, he played back the final images of the patrol, the part where, once again, Christopher hurled his bayonet over the fence and attacked. It wa
s as quick and as brutal as the last, and there were no survivors. When the dead man had finished, he had thrown the bayonet back over the fence, returning nonchalantly to his residence.
David turned off the monitor and looked at his two compatriots. In a steady voice, he said, “Options?”
“Pull everyone back to the towers at the gate,” Jose said. “Spread out our best remaining marksmen over three shifts and make certain that, when Christopher reappears, our quick reaction team is a hell of a lot closer than they have been.”
Ellen nodded. “You said something about the boss giving the go-ahead on bringing in one of the foreign corporations?”
“Yes,” David said. “We’ll bring them down through Canada. The border is porous over here.”
“Not to mention the boss has enough money to grease the wheels,” Ellen added.
“Yup,” Jose said, nodding. He pulled out a tin of Skoal chewing tobacco, took a pinch and tucked it between his lower gum and bottom lip. “Once we get the new guys in, we need to pull anyone who’s skittish off the line. Leave only some steady hands there to ease with the transition. With that taken care of, we can be responsible for long patrols and leave the risk-taking to whatever crew comes in.”
“Sounds like what I had in mind,” David said. “It brings me to my next point as well. Long patrols. How many Rangers and Force Recon guys do we have left?”
Jose shrugged, but Ellen said, “Two Rangers. No Force Recon. The three remaining guys were killed in the last attack by Christopher. Why? What’s up?”
“We’ve had no contact from Jane for over twenty-four hours now,” David said.
“GPS?” Jose inquired.
David shook his head. “Nothing. Last ping put her a good ten miles from here, and even those coordinates are iffy. Not exactly a lot of cell towers around, even with those put in by the professor. No, we only have a rough idea as to where she might be. Which is why I wanted some people with tracking experience.”
“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Jose asked.
“Of course, she’s in trouble,” Ellen said bitterly. “She went out there blind, right?”
