Spookshow V: Half-Boys and Gypsy Girls, page 24
“What is that?” Billie asked.
“Painkillers,” Gantry garbled. “I found ‘em in the medicine cabinet.”
The scowl on the detective’s face deepened. “Maybe you should stay here.”
“You need me, sonny.”
“You can barely stand up. God knows what we’re walking into.”
Gantry waved him away. “I’ll nap on the way over. Let’s crack on.”
Mockler didn’t move, rooted to the spot with the baseball bat in his hand. Kaitlin stepped up and took the bat from him. “I’ll take this. We’d better go.”
Kaitlin led the way and Mockler followed. Billie and Gantry stepped out onto the porch together. “Your friend popped in earlier,” he said.
“Friend?”
“The one without legs.”
“He was here?” Billie asked. “What did he want?”
“He didn’t say, did he? I guess he was looking for you.”
Billie gripped his arm. “You two didn’t fight, did you?”
“I conceded this round,” Gantry said as they reached the car. “We’ll rematch later. I tried to talk some sense into him, but he’s a stubborn little prick that one.”
Billie opened the passenger door. “What did you say?”
“He doesn’t want you to know the truth about him. He’s ashamed of it.” Gantry said, flinging into the backseat and closing the door after him.
Billie went still, propping the door open. “Ashamed?”
Chapter 30
IT BEGAN TO SNOW.
Light and tentative at first, pixie dust swirling under the cones of light from the streetlamps and, then, fuller and brighter, swarming in the headlights. When they pulled up before the church with the blackened windows, the night was alive with twinkling snowfall, the first of the season and the thoughts of all inside the car turned momentarily to Christmas.
Climbing out, Billie looked up at the sky to let the snowflakes fall onto her face. Then, the moment passed and everyone regarded the dark church before them.
The detective signaled the women. “You two stay here. Gantry, you’re with me.”
“We’re not staying behind,” Billie protested.
“It’s not safe,” Mockler said.
“You’re not leaving us here to play hero, Ray. Safety in numbers.” Billie brushed past him toward the front steps. “How do we do this?”
“We pair up,” Gantry said. He nodded at Mockler and Billie. “You two take the front door. Kaitlin and I will go around back.”
Kaitlin lingered near the car, the baseball bat dangling from her hand. She gulped.
“That’s a stupid plan,” Mockler said. “We stick together, everyone stays behind me, so you don’t accidentally get shot.”
Gantry scorned the idea and Billie rolled her eyes. They didn’t have time to bicker now.
“He’s not here,” Kaitlin said.
The bickering stopped. “Are you sure?” Billie asked.
“Come here.” Kaitlin reached out and took Billie’s hand. She closed her eyes for a moment. “Owen’s not inside.”
“Shite,” cursed Gantry. “So much for the plan.”
“Can you see where he is?” Billie asked.
Kaitlin shook her head. “I can’t sense anything.”
“Sod this. We’re already here.” Gantry took the steps two at a time, flung open the tall door and slipped inside.
“Goddamnit, Gantry.” The detective rushed after him.
Billie tugged Kaitlin. “I guess we’re going in.” They raced up the stairs and entered the dark church.
~
The interior of the church was darker than the night outside. Holding hands, Billie and Kaitlin bumped into a pew and groped their way along.
“I can’t see anything,” Kaitlin whispered.
“Everything’s painted black,” Billie said. “Ray? Where are you?”
A flashlight popped on, its beam playing over the pews as Mockler approached them.
Kaitlin looked over the nave of the church. The pews, floor, and walls were all painted flat black. The ceiling above and the tall windows were painted as well. “This is freaky.”
“It looks empty,” Mockler said.
“Where’s Gantry?”
“I can’t find him.”
“That idiot,” Billie seethed. Then, she hollered. “Gantry!”
Mockler snatched her arm. “Quiet.”
A cry rose up from below. Obscenities hurled out and echoed into the rafters of the church. Gantry.
It took a moment to locate the basement door in that flat black interior. Mockler flung it open and charged down, calling the Englishman’s name. Unlike the nave, the church basement hadn’t been repainted black. They filed out one-by-one into a large hall.
“Gantry?” Billie called.
“In here!” The voice rang out from a doorway to their left.
Gantry was bent over, wiping vomit from his chin. When Billie reached him, she saw the reason why and clutched a hand over her own mouth to keep from doing the same.
“Oh God,” Kaitlin cried, retreating quickly from the room.
Something large lay on the floor, lit up in the throw of the flashlight. A twisted wrack of fur and bone. Blood was pooled across the floor and splattered against the wall. The stench was gamey and ripe. Flies rose from the carcass and boiled around and settled into the blood again.
“What is it?” Billie whispered.
“Hard to tell what kind of animal it is,” Gantry said. “The head’s gone.”
Billie looked again. The butchered meat of the severed neck and bone stump made her look away.
“It’s a deer carcass,” Mockler said. “A whitetail.”
“You can tell?” Gantry asked.
“I used to go deer hunting with my old man,” the detective replied.
“Why would they do that?” Billie asked.
“Who knows,” Gantry said as he staggered out of the room and back into the hall. “Szandor and his band of merry Satanists are all batshit crazy.”
“What now?”
Mockler arced the flashlight over the hall. “Stay with him. I’m gonna sweep these rooms, then we’re getting out of here.”
Gantry leaned against the wall, his face slick with sweat. Billie scrounged her coat pockets and found a pack of tissues. She tore out a few and handed them to him.
“Ta.” He spat onto the linoleum and wiped his mouth.
“Will you be all right?” Kaitlin asked.
“If we don’t stumble across any more butchered carcasses, I should be fine.”
Mockler returned a minute later to where the trio stood. “There’s no one here.”
Gantry’s eyes dropped to something in the detective’s hand. “What’d you find?”
“Flashbangs.” Mockler held up two of the cylindrical weapons in his palm. “Maybe we can give ‘em a taste of their own medicine.”
“Lovely,” Gantry smiled, fumbling for another cigarette with trembling hands. A few fell to the floor. “But we still need to find these arseholes first.”
Kneeling down, Kaitlin retrieved the fallen cancer sticks from the floor. She straightened up to find the eyes of the others locked on her. She took a step back. “No, I don’t want to do that again.”
“We have to locate them, luv.”
“Please,” Kaitlin pleaded. “That pain was awful.”
Gantry’s gaze swung back to Billie. “Can you find them?”
“Not the way Kaitlin can. I don’t have her ability.” Billie brushed the dust from her hands. “I can ask the dead. Sometimes, they can find people, but it will take a while.”
“The boy might be dead by then,” Mockler said.
“Okay, okay!” Kaitlin snapped. “I’ll do it. Just give me a minute.” She paced back and forth, taking deep breaths as she screwed up her courage. “Billie?”
Billie took her friend’s hand. “All right. Just like before. Push everything out of your head and concentrate on him.”
The detective stepped back, but Gantry leaned closer, studying them, eager to see how it played out. The air grew still and the only sound was Kaitlin’s breathing. Mockler snuck a peek at his watch as the minutes ticked by.
Kaitlin flinched and her knees buckled. Billie caught her and propped her up. Mockler rushed in to help, but Billie shook her head at him to stay back. “Kaitlin,” she said softly. “Is it him?”
“Everything hurts,” Kaitlin gasped. “What did they do to him?”
“Can you see where you are? Can you hear anything?”
“It’s loud. A roaring noise all around. It’s constant.”
“What else?” Billie asked.
“Trees. It’s cold. I’m outside.”
Mockler stepped closer, glancing between the woman with her eyes closed and the woman holding her up. “What else, Kaitlin? Anything you see or hear. Any detail at all.”
“I’m being dragged through the woods. The ground is uneven. There’s big loose rocks everywhere. I can hear water.”
“Water?” Billie asked. “Do you mean the lake?”
“No. Running water. Like a creek. I can barely hear it over the roaring noise.”
“What kind of noise? Like an engine or a train?”
“No, it’s big, and it echoes. It never stops.”
Kaitlin faltered and Billie struggled to keep her upright. She waved the detective off again, afraid the psychic bond would snap if Mockler touched the woman. “Look around, Kaitlin. Tell us what you see.”
“There’s a bonfire. People passing before it. Trees and rocks. Water.” Kaitlin spasmed, as if hurt, and she struggled. “There’s a cross.”
“A cross?” Gantry asked, exchanging a glance with Billie.
“Way up high. It’s all lit up.” Kaitlin jerked again, her face twisting in pain. She slipped from Billie’s grip and fell. Mockler scooped her up.
“It’s gone,” Billie said. The connection had severed the moment Mockler had touched her.
Gantry snapped open one of the folding chairs stacked against the wall and Kaitlin dropped into it, putting her head to her knees.
“Will she be okay?” Mockler asked.
“She’ll be queasy for a while,” Billie said, rubbing her friend’s back. She looked up at the two men. “Do you know the place she saw?”
“It’s not a lot to go on,” Mockler said. “I don’t know what the roaring noise would be.”
“A highway?” Billie suggested.
Gantry shook his head. “The cross doesn’t make any sense. These wankers are Satanists. Why would they be near a cross?”
“Maybe there’s another church,” Mockler said. “In a rural spot, like with the other victim.”
“Near running water,” Billie added.
“It’s not a church,” Kaitlin wheezed.
All three turned to look at the woman in the chair. Kaitlin propped herself up on her elbows, her face looking drained. “It’s the punchbowl.”
Mockler snapped his fingers. “Of course!”
Gantry raised an eyebrow. “Punchbowl?”
“It’s a ravine up the mountain,” Billie answered. “Called the Devil’s Punchbowl.”
“The Devil’s Punchbowl?” Gantry barked with laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
His laughter died out when the grim set of their faces negated any chance of a joke.
~
“Come on,” said Gantry. “Is it really called that?”
“It is,” Kaitlin replied. “It’s a huge waterfall carved out of the escarpment, like a bowl. It’s a landmark.”
Gantry just shook his head in wonder. “It all seems too convenient, doesn’t it? A pack of empty-headed Satanists trying to conjure a demon at a place called the Devil’s Punchbowl. Christ on a stick!”
“Wait till you see it,” Billie said, turning to look at him in the backseat. “It’s kinda majestic.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is, luv.” Gantry leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Remind me to be awed when we get there.”
They drove east, out of the city and into the outlying neighbourhood. Gantry and Kaitlin in the back, Billie in the passenger bucket. When they approached the parkway that would take them up the escarpment, Mockler drove straight through.
“Wait,” Billie said, looking back at the intersection. “Aren’t we going up the mountain?”
“Nope,” Mockler answered. He tilted the rearview mirror to see Kaitlin. “You saw the cross above you, right?”
“Yeah. Up really high.”
Mockler adjusted the mirror to its former position. “That means they’re in the bottom of the gorge.”
“Yes, but there’s the footpath down to the bowl. You start at the cross and walk down.”
“There’s a quicker way to the bottom. Over the train tracks.”
Seven blocks on, Mockler turned up Mountain Avenue to where the street ended and swung the car around the concrete barrier blocking the dead end. He killed the engine. “We’re here.”
A soft snoring rumbled from the backseat. The detective turned to Kaitlin and said, “Wake that bastard up, would you?”
The trunk lid popped open and bounced gently on its hinges. Mockler reached in and outfitted everyone with a heavy Maglite. Retrieving the two flashbang grenades, he pocketed one and handed the other to Billie.
“I don’t want it,” she said. “I don’t even know how to work it.”
Mockler held the grenade up and tugged gently at the pin. “Hold it like this, pull the pin and throw. Just put it in your pocket for now.”
Reaching back into the trunk, he lifted out the baseball bat that he had insisted they bring and handed it to her. Next, he slid the Glock from the holster on his belt. “Gantry, do you know how to use one of these?”
“Nope.”
“Time to learn.” The detective racked back the slide to ensure the chamber was empty and then offered it to the Englishman. “It’s dead easy. Here.”
“I hate guns,” Gantry said. “Give it to Billie.”
Billie threw up both hands in protest. “I don’t want it.”
“I’ll take it,” Kaitlin offered.
“You know how to use this?”
“Kyle took me to a firing range a couple times. Give me a quick refresher course.”
Kaitlin handed the bat to Billie and Mockler walked her through how the gun worked. “Put it in your coat pocket,” he said, “and keep it there until I tell you to draw it.”
Billie looked at the detective, now unarmed. “What are you going to use? Your fists?”
Reaching back into the trunk, Mockler pulled out a shotgun, a big twelve-gauge in a matte black finish. Wide shot and maximum damage, standard issue for a police assault team. “I brought this.” There was one last item among their gear; heavy bolt-cutters. He handed them to Gantry. “You carry this.”
“Oh aye. Maybe I can snip the bastards to death.”
They marched past the dead end of the street and into the wet brush until they came to a chain link fence. Gantry snipped the links from the ground up and bent back the wire to make an opening. The troop ducked through the breach and stepped onto the gravel expanse of the railway line.
Stepping over the tracks, Billie looked east down the line of rail, lit up in the hazy swirl of snowfall under the glow of lamps. It was eerily picturesque, she noted before quickening her pace to catch up to the others.
The roaring sound grew louder as they crept onto a dirt footpath through the foliage, flashlights pointed directly at the ground before them. Following the creek, they clambered over rocks and roots until a light glimmered up ahead through the dead tree branches. Gantry’s mouth dropped open as he got his first look at the punchbowl, a circular gorge that rose 120 feet to the escarpment above. Water cascaded down the shale rock to a thunderous, constant crash at the basin. The light up above emanated from a 30 foot tall cross that glowed against the snowfall in the night sky. “Frig me,” he uttered. “Lookit that.”
Mockler hushed him and they pressed on slowly until the detective stopped. Light up ahead flickered through the trunks of the trees. Not as elegant as the cross on the cliff above them but closer and brighter. A bonfire crackling in the night, blotted now and then by figures passing before it.
“Kill the lights,” Mockler hissed as he crouched among the thicket.
Gantry came alongside him. “How many are there?”
“Did you learn to whisper in a barn?”
“They can’t hear us over that racket, mate.” Gantry peered out at the fire in the distance, trying to discern the congregants gathered, but all were clad in black. “Doesn’t look like too many. A handful of tossers. Do you see the lad?”
Mockler shook his head. The two women crept closer and Kaitlin pointed at something. “There. Just to the left of the fire.”
The fire sawed eastward as the wind pushed it and a figure flared up in the shifting light. Pale and scrawny, the prisoner lay stretched over a fallen log, his naked flesh muddied with blood and dirt and dead leaves.
“I can’t tell if he’s still alive,” Billie said.
“He’s alive,” Kaitlin said. “How do we get him out of there?”
Mockler stood the butt end of the shotgun on a slab of rock, the barrel at the sky. “We shock them first. Toss in a flashbang and then charge in with a warning shot from the rifle. They’ll scatter for cover, and we grab Owen. Anyone who puts up a fight gets a round of buckshot to the chest.”
“That’s the plan?” Gantry sneered. “And what happens when they don’t scatter.”
Mockler spit into the dead leaves. “I suppose you have a better one?”
“Give me one of the grenades. Stick with your plan. I’m just gonna soften them up first.”
“What does that mean?” Mockler groused, handing over one of the flashbangs.
The Englishman turned the metal cylinder in his hand, muttering something strange as he did so. Then, he put the weapon to his lips like a devotee kissing a saint’s relic and rose to his feet.
“Wait!” Mockler hissed, but it was too late.
Gantry stomped toward the fire making no attempt to be silent, but there was no need with the roar of the waterfall drowning out his approach. The black clad figures, caught up in their chanting, did not see the Englishman until he stepped into the light of the bonfire and hollered at them.
