Chapter Seven
The sun had set and the darkness had overwhelmed them several hours ago. The fog blanketed the ground in thick and heavy clouds. The sounds of the forest had returned to normal, a gift that comforted for a short while, but Jamie heard a strange quality in the sounds, as if listening to a recording of nature. The sounds of the birds and animals and crickets seemed false, somehow.
Blood flowed from the gash in her forehead, into her eyes and made it hard to see, but it didn’t stop her from searching frantically around the inside of the overturned truck. Her beautiful blonde hair was nothing but a mess of matted and dried blood, sticky in some areas and caked hard to the skin in others. As far as she could see, nothing lurked outside the truck but the forest and the normal inhabitants of the trees. In fact, nothing had been there since the last transmission through the radio-
(I am coming)
-but it didn’t shake that sickening, nasty feeling she had felt for several hours now. She rolled to her side to make sure her husband still breathed steadily. Blood pooled around him, but the bleeding had stopped. His breath sounded raspy and shallow, but she was grateful for the sound. It comforted her to know that although out of commission, he was here with her now. The night grew colder with each passing minute, however, and she knew that he needed medical help soon or he may not make it. Hell, she needed medical attention too, or she might not make it either. The cuts and bruises she had from the wreck were bad, but she felt like a psychiatrist would help the most at the moment. It felt like her sanity was slowly pulled from her mind, in long sinewy strands of coherence. At first she thought she had simply made up the feeling of losing it as a reaction to the accident, but was now sure that someone or something had searched the darkest and most secret corners of her mind.
“Impossible,” Jamie muttered, shaking away those thoughts and returning her attention to her husband. Even thoughts of him, though, reminded her of the man in the road. The shadow that had watched them as their truck careened out of control. Tim had wakened from his haze long enough for her to ask him about the man she had seen standing next to the road. He hadn’t seen him, but she was positive he had been there, and equally as sure that he had something to do with how she felt during the accident, very similar to her current feelings. Jamie’s mind and body and soul had been violated and she felt the pangs of terror in her bowels, despite how much she tried to calm down and be rational. Nothing helped to ease her mind, however, and the horror would not cease. So deeply afraid.
Tim coughed, spitting a fine mist of blood into the air and a sick glob of clotted blood onto his chin. He moved slowly at first, jerking his arms and torso as if to the beat of some song, but it quickly became a brutal pounding, his muscles convulsing violently. His legs here still pinned underneath the dashboard so Jamie had no idea if he was still losing blood below his waist.
Tears burst from her eyes as she watched the man she loved spasm and twist, subject to nature’s fury. More blood seeped from his mouth and nose and he stared up at the seat of the truck with a sick and dead look that made her decision for her, he needed help and she was the only one who could get it for him.
But the dark, she reminded herself, that voice.
The spasms lasted for a few seconds longer, then died down until he was silent and still again. He closed his eyes and returned to whatever hell he entertained on the stage of his unconscious mind.
She loved him more than anything; she had given him everything, and would not stop now. She refused to see him die because something in the night frightened her. For the longest time she had convinced herself that someone would notice them missing and come looking, or that someone would drive down this road, but she knew she just kidded herself, prolonging the inevitable. They both needed help badly she no longer cared what was waiting for her when she climbed out of this truck and walked the four miles or so to town. She crawled on her elbows until her face touched her husband’s cheek. She nuzzled against him, kissing his ear and smelling his skin.
“I love you Tim.” She said simply, and began to cry. “I don’t want to leave you, but I don’t know what else I can do. You’re hurt and you need help, you need to see the doc.” She kissed him on the forehead first, then moved her body closer and kissed him on the lips. Not a hard or passionate kiss, but one that conveyed enough feeling. She touched his cheek gently and pulled away slowly, inching her body backward toward the window.
“Baby… I love you. Please stay with me.” Tears spurt from Jamie’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks, carving streaks in the blood and dirt that caked her skin. She choked on a sob as she pulled her fingers from his face and pushed up on her hands to climb through the broken window.
Glass covered the ground outside the truck, cutting into her palm and fingers—blood oozed from the new gashes. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself completely into the open, out from beneath the over-turned truck. She yelped as she stood up, her hair pulling her to the ground. For a moment she thought that Tim had grabbed hold of her hair, keeping her away from the darkness, but her hair had just caught on a piece of jagged glass sticking out of the window sill.
Once untangled, she stood and glanced around, looking for some demon to come screaming through the fog out of the dark shadows of the woods. Thankfully the moon shone brightly onto the road in front of her, the shadows from the trees cast on the asphalt like long, boney arms and skinless fingers. She turned and looked back at the truck, regretting her departure from her husband. Her insides felt hollow and she had no idea how she would make it to town. She began to walk, not noticing the specter of a man standing in the shadows just beyond the road. The figure was huge and lurking, magnified by the darkness and the slight moonlight. His breathing was ragged yet deep. He watched the woman begin walking toward the refuge of lights in the distance. A low chuckle floated out of the shadows, sounding more like a rabbit stuck in a trap and dying. No refuge, not anymore.
***
Jim was not apathetic about his job or his town. Quite the opposite actually, he cared for the people in this town and their well being probably more than anyone else. But his wife had been right during their heated conversation earlier that day. Not much happened in the town; no disputes raged between families or other townspeople, and not many outsiders visited or even drove through. Everyone pretty much belonged to the same conservative political party and they shared mostly similar ideals. If a dispute arose, or even a fight (heaven forbid) it happened at the bar, after a couple of the more rough locals got liquored up and cranky. No, the transmission scared and unnerved him, but it certainly was nothing to get upset or lose sleep over. He was sure that it could and would be explained when they finally caught up with the newlywed couple.
Jim stood on the patio, sipping his hot and slightly burned coffee. The night grew darker than usual, and he assumed it was because of the storm that raged in the east. Every few minutes the charges in the air would ignite, lighting the bruised clouds at the center of the storm. A loud clap of thunder would rumble, barely audible from where Jim watched, but he knew that wherever the storm hovered, the thunder exploded monstrously loud.
The storm was coming, and Jim could feel the charges in the air deepening, smelling like the air did when a load of laundry was just taken out of the dryer, full of static electricity. His thoughts drifted to his wife and all thoughts of the radio transmission left his mind. He supposed he would call her back tonight. Deep down, he knew that he was the one that needed to change if his marriage was going to work. But that’s the real problem, he supposed, not knowing if he wanted the marriage to work at all. If it hadn’t been for his son, he would have walked away a long time ago—a horrible thought, but probably true.
He shook out those depressing thoughts, reminding himself that he had made promises to his wife and son, promises that he should keep the best he could, despite what he now felt. He took another sip and stared at the diner across the street where several people were just leaving. The diner seemed to be the only place where people were still up and moving around and it certainly housed the only lit windows in town, aside from the police station. The fog had rolled in thick and deep, and a fine mist covered the street, making it glossy in the moonlight. The flashing yellow light up the street only added to the surreal, dream-like appearance of the empty street. Carved pumpkins, their eyes flickering from the light within, were placed carefully on porches along the street to commemorate the coming of the day of the dead.
“Gonna be a cold Halloween this year,” he muttered to himself just as a single truck, its headlights cutting through the fog like knives, drove down the lonely street and pulled into the station’s parking lot. Mark jumped out of the car and marched up to the porch.
“What the hell was that radio thing about? Jeeze La Weeze, I thought the freakin’ depths of hell were opening up in my truck, and then she laughed, talk about creepy!” Mark heaved as he climbed the steps to stand with the sheriff.
Jim chuckled lightly—his deputy had a habit of adding a touch of drama to everything, talking so fast his words sounded slurred. Mark was a nice guy, a native to Mapleton with a wife and 6 kids, he was tall and skinny, lanky even, but he had a nice build, which helped him keep away from the Ichabod Crane look. As he walked up to the porch, upset and freaked out, Jim laughed heartily, thoroughly enjoying the scene and his own commentary in his head. Mark held out his hands, expecting an answer to his question.
“I don’t know what it was,” Jim stopped laughing, serious again, “but it sure has got Lettie uptight.” He took another sip of his coffee. The mug was almost empty and the remaining coffee was getting cold. A few more minutes of the night, he decided, and then he’d call his wife.
“Has anyone tried to call them? Or their families? I mean, Jeeze.” Mark sat on the top step, exasperated.
“Lettie’s been trying to reach the Hacoms but can’t get a hold of them, and their families don’t know where they are either.”
“Well good. I went over to where Tim works, but he wasn’t there either. Guess they went out of town?” Mark mused.
“I’m thinking that they were fooling around or something, and somehow their cell phone connected in with the radio. I’m sure they’re alright.” Jim said. He added, “I mean, we can’t know for sure until we talk to them, but I figure if they really do have some problems, they’d radio in again. Right?”
Mark nodded as he eyed the coffee mug and said, “Coffee at night? I thought you got off here 10 minutes ago?”
“I think I’m going to wait this one out tonight. I’ll stay here, and sleep on the couch if I get tired.” Jim finished off the coffee in his mug and set it on the railing on the porch. Mark fell quiet, knowing exactly why Jim was staying. He asked, “Trouble at home?”
“Yeah. We just can’t seem to work things out.” Jim said, and then glanced up at a particularly large flash of lightening. He nodded to the storm, trying to change the subject. “Got a big one coming in. Looks like it’ll be a whopper.”
“It’s kinda strange for this time of year too,” Mark said. He hesitated, and then said, “Everything seems strange today. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but the feeling I got when little Jamie Hacom came in on the radio just about summed up the way I’ve been feeling all day long. Something big is headed our way, I think.”
“The storm. I feel it too. It just sat there all day today, just building. I imagine when it does come our way, seeing that the wind don’t change, it’ll be a doozy.” Jim wrapped his coat around him a little tighter and turned to look inside. Lettie was crying again, frantically trying to reach someone on the phone. Jim said, “Listen, Mark. Why don’t you head on home? I got it covered tonight.”
“You gonna send Lettie home too?”
Jim nodded, “I think she needs to get home. The radio thing pushed her over the edge.” Mark stood up and started toward his truck, he turned and said, “If you need anything, Jim, even just to go home and see her. I can come back you know. Just give me a call.”
Jim smiled, “Thanks Mark. Get home and get some sleep. I’ll let you know about the Hacoms too, if I hear anything.”
They were silent for a few seconds, before Mark nodded and climbed into his truck. He started up the big diesel engine and pulled out of the lot, leaving Jim alone again with his thoughts.
Something different floated through the air and he knew that he wasn’t the only one to feel it. Mark had said so and Lettie was pretty near hysterics, probably having decided that the Hacoms were dead or something. Something was just not right, even on a beautiful and cold night as tonight. He shook his head, thinking that he just needed a good night’s sleep and some time to concentrate on his family. Maybe he’d take a couple of weeks off and go with his family on vacation somewhere. He smiled at the thought, knowing that his wife would be excited with the idea. It had been so long since they’d done something fun together. He sighed miserably, and turned to go inside and let Lettie go home and relax. Suddenly, the overwhelming feeling that he was being watched swept over him. He stopped and turned around. The diner was mostly empty, except for two people sitting at a table near the window. It surprised him to see Henri, the only pastor in town, sitting with someone else he didn’t recognize. Henri usually didn’t talk much with people he knew in town, let alone strangers. Jim shrugged and looked down the street, which was empty. The fog had gotten thicker, obstructing his view. He thought that the fog would keep people inside—and it was getting cold. He assumed most people would already be snuggled up in their beds, but the feeling was insistent. He was certainly not alone. He could feel eyes boring into him. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much, but it just added to the itchy dark feeling that had been growing inside him throughout the day. A low rumble floated in from the east, followed by several flashes of light.
It’s the storm, he thought, nodding to himself as he opened the door and stepped inside. If anything was ominous and foreboding, it was the mass of God’s strength building in the east. But the power that emanated from the storm seemed darker than anything from God, Jim thought. He brushed the thought aside and closed the door behind him.
To be continued next Friday, August 28, 2015, the full novel to be revealed in parts by Halloween.
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© 2008, Derrick Hibbard. All Rights Reserved.
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