CHAPTER 20
Sweet Beulah Land
The cells at the Newton County Jail were empty of their normal inmates. Ironically, their current occupants were law enforcers rather than lawbreakers. Two days ago Sam had arranged for all of the inmates to be transferred to Jasper, freeing the jailers for patrolling, except for Jack, who was convinced that he was still needed at the Sheriff’s Office. This had also enabled them to use the cells to house Bill, Sam, and now James.
That night James bedded down in cell number nine, right across the row from cell number two, where he had spent four nights when he’d been under arrested for the murder of William Youngblood. This visit was much less formal. No fingerprints were made, no front and profile pictures were taken, and the door to his cell was kept unlocked. James’ suitcase sat in one corner of the cell, and his cell was now equipped with clean sheets and a feather pillow. It was still a jail cell though. The walls were that sickly shade of blue, and names and obscenities were still carved into the pictureless, windowless, walls.
The only decoration was a small potted cactus Emilio had put in James’ cell earlier in the day as a joke. The more James got to know Emilio Rodriguez, the more he reminded James of Greg O’Brien. Emilio was not quite as rowdy as Greg, but they both had the same brand of humor; the rare kind that allowed them to laugh at themselves just as easily as they could laugh at someone else, and enabled them to tell a knock-knock joke to a seven-year old with the same enthusiasm they would tell a dirty joke to a barroom full of drunks. Right now, James’ new friendship with Emilio was painful. James realized that what Emilio and Greg had in common was they both loved life. And now Greg was dead.
These thoughts floated through James’ head as he tried to get some sleep. He tossed and turned for hours. Twice he would almost drift off and then he would see his wife’s arm, hand and her ring, bloodied and in the doorway of their home. James would wake up and have to fight back tears and an incredible urge to pound his pillow with his fists.
It’s my fault! All my fault!
Normally when one falls asleep they distance themselves from the cares of the real world, but when James finally fell asleep about three hours after bedding down, he drifted right into the savage mind of the creature that had killed those most dear to him. James didn’t get any rest when he slept at night — not while he was having those dreams. Still, he would bed down, hoping that he would see something that would help them kill the damned beast.
As James drifted off, this time for real, his sense of smell and his hearing increased as they began to merge with the beast.
His sense of taste also merged. This was something that had bothered James tremendously and had a lot to do with his loss of appetite over the last couple of weeks. He had tasted everything the beast had eaten while he was ‘riding along’ in its warped mind.
Another change that had gradually taken place in these dreams was that James now seemed more conscious of what was going on. The difference between his visions had always been that the visions felt more solid and less abstract than normal dreams, but these dreams of the beast took this reality to an entirely new level. It was almost nothing like a dream, it was more like watching a 3D movie that had smell, touch, and taste, as well as sight and hearing.
The beast was inside the city limits. Tonight it seemed to be moving with more caution than before. It would wait briefly in a shadow, then dart across a small area that was lit by the streetlights. At one point the beast sat in the shadows, watching a Newton City Police cruiser pass by.
James tried to wake himself in time, but couldn’t.
The beast pressed on, and James relaxed and ceased his attempts to wake up. He was curious as to where the beast was heading. Finally the beast came to the corner of Kaufman Street and Main Street. It peered over at the Newton County Courthouse; then its gaze fell on the Newton County Jail. Bill’s cruiser, James’ pickup, Sam’s Mercedes, and Clara’s little hatchback were parked in a parking lot that was otherwise empty. Despite the fact that the beast was currently in a well-lit area, it stood up and sniffed the air.
Part of James wanted to wake up, but another part of him was curious. Curiosity prevailed.
As if realizing he was exposed, the beast suddenly dropped to all fours and loped back into the shadows. From there the beast continued to look the area over. It watched as Darren’s cruiser pulled up beside Bill’s car. Darren and his partner, Tom Weatherford, a former police officer who had retired to the area, stepped out of the car and started toward the Sheriff’s Office. James again debated trying to wake up, but the beast was making no attempt to enter their mind, and Darren and Tom were too far away for the beast to rush them before they could draw their guns, so James assumed it wasn’t going to attack.
He was right. The beast sat there and watched for another ten minutes or so, then turned and left, just as stealthily as it came.
As the beast began to slowly make its way out of town, James began to feel as though he had let a golden opportunity slip by. If he had awakened while the beast was right in the middle of town — within view of the Sheriff’s Department — there was the possibility that every unit in town could have converged on the spot in only a few minutes.
The beast traveled through the woods for about an hour before it came to a small clearing, if you could call an area covered with brush and three foot tall pine saplings a clearing.
James recognized this clearing. It was in this weed choked vale that the beast’s new lair was located — the old white building that James had, as yet, been unable to identify. James began paying close attention to the beast’s peripheral vision in hope that he could see something that would tell him where the lair was as the beast approached the building.
No such luck.
Then something attracted the beast’s attention. Although James shared the beast’s senses while he was tagging along in its mind, he was not as accustomed to using its finely tuned perceptions: he missed whatever it was the beast heard or smelled.
One thing he didn’t miss was a sign that came into the beast’s vision when it turned to look in the direction of the sound or smell. The sign was old, its paint cracked and peeling from the years, but the words could still be made out. It read:
Beulah
Church of God
Sunday Services: 11:00 a.m.
The rest was hidden by the brush and saplings, but James was sure he had found what he’d been looking for.
Despite being excited about his discovery, James was also exhausted from lack of real sleep. When the beast curled up in a corner under the “Beulah Church of God,” and went to sleep, releasing James from the depths of its mind, James also fell into a deep sleep.
He dreamed. This time it was a real dream.
James was in his front yard looking at his house, only it was different. The grass and all the trees were dead. Not grey winter-dead, but the deep brown and black of real death.
He started walking across the yard toward his house. The walk was farther than it had ever been. It was as if every step he took only brought him an inch or so closer.
Halfway there he looked down and saw the skeleton of a dog. There was a faded blue collar around its neck, with a little metal tag shaped like a fire hydrant dangling from it. He knew without looking that the tag would have his name and address on one side and Answers to: LADY on the other.
He began to feel a panic creep in. He started running toward the house.
Angie! Jimmy!
It seemed as if James was running in place; he was running as fast as he could, but he only approached the house inch by inch. Maybe not even that much; it almost seemed as if he was standing still.