He sprinted around the corner of the house, gun drawn, and activated his shoulder-mounted radio. “Officer Walsh, this is Clapton. I’m approaching the Cyrus residence from the direction of the Armstrong house on the north side.”
A female dispatcher called for more backup. “Officers request assistance at 4321 Cedar Drive and 3587 Oak Street. Code 412.”
And as Officer Clapton made his way around the side of the Cyrus house and saw what Officer Walsh was looking at, he felt another spike of panic. Officer Walsh was standing with his back against the wall of the house, his eyes wide with fright. Officer Clapton saw the large puddle of blood on the ground, the tattered flesh that lay in a pile near the wall, and then the panic began as things began to rapidly unravel.
Tim Gaines must have been in a very deep sleep because the next thing he remembered after lying on his cot in the cell, he was being shaken awake.
Tim blinked and sat up quickly, growing confused when he saw who it was that had woken him up.
Detective Andrews and Officer Frank Clapton stood before him. Both of them looked worried. Clapton looked almost fearful. He was still wearing his uniform from the night before. Tim rubbed his eyes and tried to straighten up. “What’s up?”
“We don’t have a lot of time, but you’ve got to come clean with us,” Officer Clapton said.
At the sound of his voice Tim was instantly awake and aware. “What are you talking about?”
“Tell me the truth,” Officer Clapton began. “What were you and Gordon really doing when I pulled you over last night?”
“I told you, we were talking.” The explanation came out so quickly that Tim realized the officer was probably looking for another answer. He looked at the cop and the detective as they stood in front of him and the expressions in their faces told him all he needed to know.
Something happened.
Tim felt all the blood drain from his face.
“Can the bullshit, Gaines,” Detective Andrews said. Gone was the calm, soothing voice and demeanor from last night when he was booked. Now Andrews sounded not only mad, but worried. “We know you have information regarding the disappearance of John Elfman.”
“And I know you’re not being truthful with me,” Officer Clapton said. “I can read it in your face. You just went dead pale.”
“No I didn’t,” Tim said, instantly feeling stupid for the denial.
“I can’t go into details,” Officer Clapton said. “But I have at least one dead man and over a dozen people missing from a neighborhood near Zuck’s Woods. They’re believed to be seriously injured or dead. The Pennsylvania State Police have been here since five o’clock assisting us and by nine we’re going to have a hell of a mess on our hands if you don’t tell us everything you know.”
“What’s happening?” Tim asked, his voice shaky.
Clapton and Detective Andrews glanced at each other. When Clapton spoke he did it with careful reserve. “We’ve found John.”
Tim’s throat was dry. “Is he dead?”
“He is now,” Clapton said.
Tim didn’t know how to respond to that. “What do you mean?”
Detective Andrew spoke to Clapton. “What exactly has this kid been accused of?”
Officer Clapton held up a hand to Andrew. He was looking directly at Tim.
From outside the cell, Tim could make out the faint sound of somebody crying.
Tim was worried. He couldn’t say anything without knowing the full extent of the events that had transpired. Had Gordon said anything? Were Gordon and his friends now accusing Tim of murdering John?
“I’m waiting, Tim,” Officer Clapton said. “I’ve got a dozen people missing and it looks like somebody is either on a killing spree or — ”
“What are you talking about?” Tim felt the fear spike through his system, overwhelming him now.
“We’re not going to get shit out of this kid,” Detective Andrews said.
“You said John was dead,” Tim said, ignoring Andrews’ outburst. “What’s going on?”
“You tell us!” Officer Clapton said. Tim could tell the officer was struggling to contain his emotions, that he was trying to retain a professional edge in the face of chaos. “I’ve got a dozen people missing from their homes in a neighborhood near Zuck’s woods, and I’ve got the remains of John Elfman lying dead in the city morgue, cut up into little pieces. Looks like he was chewed up by some kind of animal or something.”
“But that’s not the best part,” Detective Andrews said. He had his hands on his hips. He regarded Tim with a menacing glare. “The best part has to do with what Officer Clapton told me about the trouble you’ve faced the last few years. The allegations of devil-worship and the like. Especially the latest allegations of grave-robbing. Want to know why?”
Tim could only shake his head slowly.
“Because what we’ve been witnessing defies all logic and flies in the face of rationality,” Detective Andrews continued. “Now you either tell us what you know or so help me, I’ll do all within my power to make sure you’re fingered for much of the chaos that’s been exploding in Spring Valley since — ”
“Enough!” Officer Clapton held up a hand to silence the detective. Looking directly at Tim, he said, “John wasn’t entirely dead when Officer Walsh and I found him. Pieces of him were strewn over a one block area. The parts I saw were crawling toward a house on Oak Street near Zuck’s Woods.”
“Wh-what?” Did Officer Clapton say parts of John were crawling?
“I didn’t stutter,” Officer Clapton said. “They were crawling. Like they were still alive.”
“And on top of that, we have a dozen people missing in that neighborhood, and whoever took them wasn’t very nice about it,” Detective Andrews said. “There was blood in all the houses we entered. These people didn’t go quietly.”
Officer Clapton’s gaze was imploring him. Please tell me everything you know.
And as much as Tim wanted to, as much as he wanted to tell them everything, something made him hold back. The fear of being blamed for everything that was going on.
Tim took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what I know, but first I need to talk to my lawyer.”
“Goddammit, we don’t have time for this!” Detective Andrews sputtered.
“My lawyer,” Tim said, looking at the detective with a steely gaze. A sudden burst of confidence thrummed through him, the knowledge that whatever was happening wasn’t his fault the overriding influence behind it. “Now!”
And with that, Officer Clapton and Detective Andrews left Tim’s cell to summon Doug Fenner, the lawyer George Ulrich’s dad hired for them.
Billy Thompson and Candace Drombowsky’s bodies had lain undiscovered in the thick forest of Zuck’s Woods for almost forty years.
Yet their spirits had always remained.
Trapped by something that held them to the spot, they’d waited for the right moment to break free when they could venture forth and seek vengeance on the people that murdered them.
Thanks to the malevolent force Gordon Smith unwittingly conjured, they now had their chance.
Billy and Candace’s essence directed the force into the ground where their bodies lay, and that was all that was required to ignite the spark they’d been waiting for in order to depart this place.
The force could have done that itself, but only to a limited degree. It really had no overwhelming power over remains that had been reduced to bones, but because of the ethereal spirits of Billy and Candace had remained in the area, it had sufficient power to fuel them, to give them enough strength to take control and use their brittle remains to dig their way out of their grave.