Issue #86

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is the third installment in an ongoing story which will conclude on All Hallows Eve.
To go back, click on the appropriate link:

part one     part two     part three She couldn’t remember the last time she had been inside a church but she was pretty sure that if a memory did surface, she would have likely have been wearing a school uniform. The smell of the incense was strong in the air as she looked up past the alter and let the sound of the choir in rehearsal wash over her.

There was no way to verbalize what she had just seen, no way to articulate it even to herself in her own head. All she knew was that if she let anyone hear her story, she would end up in the soft restraints before the end of business. She couldn’t talk to any of her friends either because, for the most part, even friends talk.

She could talk to a priest.

It had to be the case, the long hours, it was all coming together to pull her apart at the seams. Her imagination had clearly run rampant on her but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. The sketch they had gotten from that drunk’s description wasn’t helping things either.

The problem was that she wasn’t sure if she could even find the words to carry on a conversation with a priest. She had never been one to hand the emotional steering wheel over to other people. A job like hers, she had to be several times stronger and capable than the men around her. Any sign of weakness, especially hinting at some kind of emotional instability was like chumming the waster.

“Can I help you with anything?”

The voice was whispered from behind. She spun around so quickly, it made him jump as well. It was the church Deacon, sitting on the pew behind her.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I can’t say that I’ve seen you in here before.”

Kim immediately began to feel defensive. “That isn’t a problem, is it?”

“No, of course not. I’m just trying to make some conversation before you bolt out of here. You look about as scared as I’ve ever seen.”

She wasn’t sure if it made her feel better or worse that it was that obvious.

“Are we talking about a husband? Boyfriend?”

She didn’t understand what he meant at first, but quickly realized what directions his assumptions had led him in.

“It’s nothing like that. I’m not even in a … it doesn’t matter.”

“Can you talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you?”

“What was it that made you want to do what you do?” she asked, trying to de-rail him by changing the subject. “Why the church?”

“When you feel the calling, you know what needs to be done. It really is that simple.”

She considered that. “And what if you saw something, something that changes everything but you can’t figure out how to deal with it?”

He nodded, looking up into the rafters for several moments before answering. “I think most of the time you know what to do in any given situation, the trick is hearing the directions that your mind is trying to give you.”

“And if you saw something that proved that everything you had accepted as true was false, what would you do?”

The deacon shifted in his seat, seeming to be growing uncomfortable at the questions. She let him squirm for a moment before letting him off the hook.

“Don’t sweat it, Deacon. I’m not even sure what kind of an answer I was looking for anyway.” He nodded in response but Kim felt his eyes following her as she stood and headed for the front doors.

The street outside was pitch black, save for the stoplight swinging from its suspension cables at the far end of the block. It seemed like it was colder than when she had come in, more blustery as dead leaves tumbled past her along the curb and the gutters. She couldn’t go home, knowing that she would be in for an entire night of climbing up the walls. She couldn’t go to work either, knowing that she would find no help there.

She drove to the fairgrounds.

Better to go there, where most of the killings had been taking place. Better to go back to the beginning and see if she could get a better toe hold in this investigation. She said this, even though the voices of her better reason told her that even a toe hold would be too much to hope for. After what she had just seen in that grove behind the station, she needed to focus on the basics of the investigation, keep things simple. There had to be something they had missed.

The only thing she found as she walked down the avenue was the still present remains of the rides that hadn’t been broken down for the off-season. She wasn’t even coming across other people who continued to use the fairgrounds as a shortcut, despite the police’s posted warnings, advising people to steer clear of the area.

She couldn’t explain what was drawing her back here or why this seemed like the most logical choice. Maybe it was the oddity of the multiple victims. Serial killers rarely used the same location more than once, a pattern that this killer was defying. What her instincts seemed to know somehow was that this place was where all of this had started and was likely where it would all end as well.

The absurdity of her expedition was starting to creep into her mind. She didn’t even know what to look for, let alone where. Maybe this was all just an attempt to chase down any thought possible other than the memory of what her mind refused to accept that she had seen. The same voice was also reminding her that it might be time to stop thinking of this investigation as a search for someone, rather a search for something. And if that were the case, what would she even do if she found it?

In the end, it was the sound of her partner’s grating laughter in her head that tightened down her focus and resolve. She gritted her teeth as she walked, trying to shake the fatigue out of her head as she did so. She wanted to call for back-up but knew that she had no rational reason to do so and it was hard enough getting through the day to day life in this job without also being seen as hysterical.

There was never another place that she thought would benefit from a good, heavy rainstorm as this. The filth that blanketed everything only seemed to contribute to her dire mood, to the sense of dread and finality that seemed to intensify with each step. She drew her revolver, keeping it aimed at the ground, but taking the safety off as well.

As she rounded the control panel for the tilt-a-whirl, she thought there had been a subtle hint of movement off in the distance, next to one of the power transformers. The darkened figure seemed to detach itself briefly, step out enough for her to see it before melting back behind the transformer.

The human voice in her head cried out for her to back off, to call for help or even leave, pretending to have seen nothing. It was the thought of all the people out there who could end up being the next victim that made her shut that voice out. This was her job and, in the end, if she wasn’t willing to do it, what was the point?

Kim crept around the transformer and raised the gun. There was no one there but she had a clear view down the walkway between two buildings and was in time to make out what looked like the petite shape of a female, coyly walking around the far corner, to the right.

She fought back the urge to yell out, to draw attention to herself and instead made her way rapidly along the building, gun raised as she tried to control her breathing. As she turned the corner, she dropped down into a crouch, looking for a target on which to take aim.

The woman was gone.

Kim traced the area, moving the sight at the end of the barrel slowly from left to right but there was no one that she could see. There was a sign about thirty yards ahead of her that was swinging back and forth as if it had been disturbed by something, a breeze or maybe someone bumping into it. She jogged up to it and brought the revolver to bear as she moved around to the other side.

The lower portion of a person’s body stood there, looking like it had been cut cleanly in half. The open wound at the waist line oozed blood and some kind of thick, black fluid.

Kim stepped forward, immediately thinking about what she had seen earlier, exactly like this, as if the person had flown off, leaving their legs behind. She started to look up for any other sign of movement when she heard a sound from behind her and above, an animal-like snarl and her skin stood up on end at the sensation of hot breath on the back of her neck. She brought the gun around to bear, but far too late, turning into a wall of shrieking, the volley of wings beating the air around her and the feeling of sharpened claws tearing themselves into her flesh.

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