He concentrated on the rutted track, trying to keep the truck in sight. After five minutes of bumping and juddering deeper into the forest and a few more smaller turns, he saw the brake lights come on up ahead. Ed pulled the car over behind some bushes and killed the engine. He cranked down the window and listened. Nothing! No engine, the truck had stopped. Ed opened the door and cursed himself when the courtesy light came on. “Idiot!” he said to himself. He quickly got out and gently closed the door, extinguishing the light again. “Well there goes my night vision,” he thought to himself, “just hope that fella didn’t see it”. Up ahead he heard a squeal as a rusty door was opened then slammed shut seconds later. Ed wanted to move forward but as he couldn’t see very far he waited another few minutes before making his way up the track, letting his eyes become re-accustomed to the dark. He needn’t have worried about losing the trail of the driver. Whoever it was must have been certain about being alone as they crashed through the undergrowth, snapping low branches and crushing fallen twigs underfoot. Ed got to the pick-up. It was the same old red post-war Dodge he had seen from his first flashback, he was sure of that. It was hard to tell from that era but with its bull nose, he guessed it was a 1948 or 49 model. The engine ticked gently as it began to cool. There was nothing in the bed, just a large battered tool chest bolted down behind the cab. Crouching low, he slid up the right side to the cab and peaked in. He was relieved to see it was empty. Fearful that he still might lose his pray he went into the tree line, following the trail of broken branches and noise up ahead. Whoever was up there, their progress was slow and Ed closed the gap. He thought he heard a man’s voice curse following the ‘thwap’ of a branch springing back into place. Ed’s eyes were now getting used to the dark and he could see fairly well, well enough that he recognised where he was. The trees had become less dense and he could now see the small stream he had crossed yesterday. Was it only yesterday… or fifty years ago? As he made the clearing near the stream he could see a man up ahead just going into the trees on the other side of the water. Instinctively, Ed ducked down but the man never turned around. Ed’s heart sank when he saw the Hessian sack on the man’s shoulders, he was too late. Anger rose again like bile in his throat, burning away. He wanted to crash ahead and tackle the man to the ground. He even started to run forwards but by the time he had reached the stream his sense had returned. He took a deep breath, calmed himself then stepped onto the stones across the water.
The gap between the two men was only about a hundred yards but in a forest area that was more than enough for Ed to avoid being seen. Defying his heavy build, his army training from years ago and his martial arts gave him a lightness of foot. He remembered to place the outside of his feet gently down before rolling the whole of his body weight onto the limb, avoiding unnecessary noise and snapping fallen branches. The wildlife gave off a noisy cover of its own; crickets chirped away rhythmically, accompanied by unidentified night birds and the scurrying of small mammals. Only once did he make a dead branch snap underfoot. He froze and watched his prey; the man ahead paused, turned his head to listen then seemingly satisfied that it was animal noises, continued on. As the land became steeper Ed realised that they were almost at the destination, the small clearing with the fallen trees. With the guy in front carrying the heavy sack, he closed the gap easily and was only thirty yards behind the assailant when he reached the clearing. Still with his back to Ed, the guy unceremoniously dropped the sack then rubbed his shoulder free of aches. He knelt down beside the sack and untied the thin rope holding it closed. Moonlight illuminated the area like a stage set; Ed could see that the man was tall and lean but well-built with broad shoulders. The red check lumberjack-style shirt was the same, tucked into dark jeans. The clothes were hard-working but well-worn and faded. The only item that seemed to conspicuously stick out in its newness was the shiny black belt that held up the jeans and had metal loops and a utility pocket. When the man came back up he was holding a wooden-handled spade. The ground was soft and boggy underfoot and took little effort to disturb with the blade of the tool. Working just a few feet in front of the sack the man began to dig. Ed wasn’t sure if he could watch this any longer, what he wanted to do was jump on his back and rip the guy’s head off then bury him, then take the girl home to her folks. But he and Linda had come up with a game plan that would hopefully catch the guy in the future. The future, now?! But this felt like now, this was no dream, this was real. His head almost ached with the confusion. “To hell with it,” he thought, “I can’t watch this happen”. He stepped out from behind the large pine he had been hiding behind and stepped out towards the man just as the killer threw down the spade and turned to pick up the sack. Ed froze in shock; he knew who it was! The guy was in perfect silhouette; the chiselled jawline and skull-like head made the man instantly recognisable. But more than that, the man’s actions had drawn Ed’s eyes to the sack again as something rolled out. Ed’s shock was complete, the ebony arm that he had expected to fall out was not an arm or even ebony, it was a head, the head of a blonde-haired white child.
NINETEEN
Ed’s eyes opened suddenly, staring straight ahead. “Oh my God! You scared me half to death!” exclaimed Linda as she shrank back away from Ed. “Are you okay?”
Ed stared out the front screen at the now empty landscape. They were now just the other side of the train crossing, looking into the darkness of open country. “Ed, talk to me, are you okay?” she repeated. Slowly he turned towards her voice, but still not seeing her, his mind still back in the past.
“It wasn’t her” he mumbled.
“What? What do you mean it wasn’t her, wasn’t who?”
“It wasn’t her Linda, it wasn’t Gracie.” He said softly. “I saw him, the killer, I saw him drive into the hills with the body, I followed him. He dug a shallow grave, but it wasn’t Grace Benjamin, it was someone else, a white girl, the waitress was right, there’s more than one!”
“Oh no, please God no, not more of them!”
“It gets worse” he hesitated, “I don’t know if I should tell you or not but if we find them I guess you’ll know sooner or later.”
“Know what Ed? How can it be any worse for Christ sake?”