Crimson Falls (The Depravity Chronicles) (9 page)

“It’s not like
he hit anything,” Tommy offered. Knowing the insanity had dissipated a bit, the
twins walked back and sat down at the table.

“That was
totally twisted,” Trevor mumbled. “Is this for real?”

“It’s for real,”
Tommy said.

“I’m glad Trish
didn’t see that,” he said. “That would have screwed her up even more than she
already is.”

Tommy smiled.
“That makes three of us.”

“True that.”

* * * * * *

3

Jason Styles
called Dr. Bearson from his cell once he got on the road. A professor of
Anthropology, Jason had not yet had the pleasure of meeting him. All he knew
was that his father was close friends with him and respected him deeply. That
was all Jason needed to know.

“Hello?” answered
a voice with a heavy accent.

“Dr. Bearson?”
Jason said.

“Speaking?”

“This is Jason
Styles.”

“Styles,”
Professor Bearson repeated.

“Yes, sir. You
know my father, Dr. David Styles.”

“Ah, young
Jason! Well I haven’t seen you since you were just a boy,” he said, laughing.

“I don’t
recall,” Jason said nervously.

“Never you mind,
young Jason,” Professor Bearson said. “You were only but a small child.”

“Professor, I
have something that my father would like you to see.”

“Jason, please,
call me Anish.”

“Anish?” he
asked.

“Yes, Jason. It
is short for my given name, Anishinabek. It means ‘persons on the right path.’
Tell me, what is it your father would like me to see?”

“Well, it’s some
kind of animal tooth, or claw, or bone that has been made into a weapon. He
thought you might know what it is.”

“Could you send
me a picture of it?” Anish asked.

“Sure, let me
pull over and I will take one with my phone.”

“Ah, the wonders
of modern technology,” Anish laughed. “Send me the picture. I will look at it
and phone you.”

“Anish?”

“Yes?”

“I’m actually in
the car right now because I’m driving to see you.”

“Oh, I see,” he
said softly. “Your father must be in great need of my assistance.”

“Yes, sir. He
is.”

“Forgive me, I
must ask. Why is he not phoning me himself?”

“Well, there
have been some strange things happening here in Crimson Falls. He is
preoccupied trying to figure it out.”

“Interesting.
Very interesting.”

“Well, more a
tragedy than interesting.”

Silence.

“I don’t mean to
offend,” Jason offered, embarrassed. “Someone died a horrible death.”

“And this weapon
your father would like me to see, this was what killed the victim?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Here is what
must happen. I trust your father a great deal. Take the picture and send it to
me. Are you familiar with the town of Myersville?”

“Yes, it’s about
halfway between Crimson Falls and the university.”

“Right. We can
meet at the McDonald’s off the highway.”

“Oh, sir, you
don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I must.”

“But why? I am
already on my way. Certainly you could just phone my father?” Jason was
confused.

“I must meet you
as quickly as possible. There may not be time enough for you to come to the
university.”

“Why? I am
already on my way to meet you.”

“Your father
once told me that if he ever sent someone to see me, that I must move without
haste.”

“Well that’s
awfully cryptic,” Jason complained.

“It’s not
cryptic at all, my friend.”

“Oh really?”

“No, it is quite
simple really.”

Jason tried not
to sound annoyed. “And the simplicity would be?”

“I will meet
you, then follow you back to Crimson Falls.”

“Then why send
the picture?” Jason asked.

“Full of many
questions, young man,” Anish laughed.

“Sorry,” Jason
said in earnest.

Anish was silent
for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice seemed deeper and resonated
through the phone.

“I need the
picture so I know what tools to bring with me.” Anish hung up the phone. Jason
continued his drive and began to look forward to meeting the professor.

* * * * * *

4

Michael Mullins
pulled up to the payphone to dust for prints. The Laundromat was small, sitting
between the office of an insurance agent and Loaves of Love, a popular deli.
Only two cars were in the parking lot. He faced the buildings, looking to his
left. Dense bushes and trees glared back at him, representing the edge of the
Brickton Estate. He didn’t like being so close to where Acorn Alan had been
murdered.

“Shit,” Michael
said to himself. He hadn’t expected the streets to be as quiet as they were
tonight. He returned to the cruiser to grab the necessary equipment needed to
lift fingerprints. As he walked he kept an eye on the trees, thinking that at
any moment someone would emerge, bent on killing him. He cursed himself for being
afraid.

“Get this done
and then get the hell outta here,” he grunted.

As he began
dusting, he tried to ignore his discomfort. “Fingers are coated with oil and
stuff. Touching a surface causes friction and the perspiration and oil is left
behind,” he told himself as he remembered his training. He returned the small
brush to its rightful place in the box and took the cellophane tape to lift the
prints.

“Michael!” a
female voice said loudly.

Michael fell on
his behind, screaming as he landed. “Jesus!”

Michael looked
around, but no one was there. He listened to the sounds around him. A large
woman walked out of the Laundromat with a large pile of clothes in her arm.
After a moment he recognized her as Mary Sue Winters, the second grade teacher
in town. She caught Michael’s movement from the corner of her eye.

“Hi Michael!”
she hollered. She threw the clothes into her trunk and walked toward him. He
rose to his feet.

“Hi ya, Mary
Sue,” he said, relieved.

“Whatcha doing?”
she asked as she surveyed the equipment. “Are you looking for fingerprints?”
Worry spread across her face.

“No, no,” he
said. She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, yes, I am dusting for prints. But it’s
nothing serious,” he lied. “Some kids have been making some prank calls to the
station so we’re trying to figure it out.

“Oh, I see,” she
said, eying suspiciously. “Well I try to teach them right,” she laughed.

“Indeed!” he
smiled.

“Well, I gotta
get these clothes home,” she said as she began walking away. “Have a good
night, Michael.”

“You too, Mary
Sue,” he waved. He was grateful for his brief respite from obsessing about the
dead body he had just seen less than an hour ago. He continued lifting the
prints and hummed to himself as he worked.

“Michael!” the
same female voice roared again. He froze in the middle of removing the
cellophane. It came from the same direction as before. This time he realized it
was coming from behind the trees. He waited to see if the voice would call to
him again. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Silence.

He finished
lifting the prints, sealing them, and closing the kit as quickly as possible so
he could get the hell out of there. The moment the case snapped closed, the
voice called to him again.

“Michael,
please!” she screamed, desperate.

“Who’s there?”
Michael called. He waited, expecting the trees to begin moving or horrible
sounds to erupt from the darkness.

Only silence.

“Jesus Christ, Michael!
I need you!” she shrieked. He suddenly recognized the voice. It was Sheriff
Blackwood.

“Oh, shit,
Sheriff!” he cried as he ran toward the edge of the Brickton Estate. Something
must have happened when he left for the station to get the fingerprint kit. He
hadn’t had the balls to tell his boss that he had forgotten to put it back in
his car the previous month. He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the
first group of bushes and trees.

“Anna?” he
beckoned. “Anna, are you there?”

“Yes, Michael,”
she answered more calmly. “I’m stuck here in these weeds, and I think something
was coming toward me. Quick, help me out so we can get the fuck outta here.”

He realized it
must have been serious because he had never heard the sheriff say the ‘f word’
before.

He jogged past a
few trees and realized he couldn’t see very well. “Shit, Sheriff,” he growled.
“I don’t have my flashlight. Turn yours on so I can see where you are. I’m half
blind out here,” he laughed. He felt better to be near Anna, but still nervous
that something might be on her trail.

“My flashlight
died,” she said. “Just follow my voice,” she ordered.

“Okay, you’re
getting louder,” he said as he strained to see any shape close by. After
several seconds he spotted her. “I see you! Hold on, I’m coming.”

“Excellent!” she
replied. “I think I see you. This way! This way!”

Michael slowed
down when the shape was no longer where he thought it was. “Damn,” he
whispered. “I could have sworn she was right there.” He opened his eyes as
widely as he could, thinking somehow he had looked past her. All he saw were
trees, rocks, and more trees.

“Anna, talk to
me,” he pleaded. “I can’t see you anymore.” He waited and listened.

Silence.

“Anna?” he
repeated.

More silence.
And it was becoming deafening.

“Anna, Jesus
Christ, talk to me!” he begged. Leaves began rustling behind him. He heard
small twigs snapping under the weight of whoever was walking. The noises became
louder.

“Anna?” he
repeated one last time.

Nothing.

Whoever was
approaching now stood directly behind him. The sound of grotesque, raspy
breathing came from nowhere. He heard the sound of something sharp being
scraped against a rock. Michael began to whimper softly. He didn’t want to turn
around, but he didn’t know what else to do. Slowly, he turned to face what
Trevor had called the ‘shadow.’

Michael opened
his eyes. All he saw were trees and a large rock. Twigs snapped behind him and
the breathing began again. He spun around as quickly as he could, but nothing
was there.

“Michael!”
Anna’s voice called out again.

“
WHAT THE
HELL!
” Michael screamed at the top of his lungs as he looked at the sky,
his arms raised in terror and anger. When he looked straight ahead again, it
was there – and it was no shadow. Michael fell to the ground as he screamed,
scrambling backwards to crawl to safety. The shadow was tall; he figured it was
a large man. But what he could see of his face was gray, hollow, and his eyes were
deeply sunken. Although it was dark, Michael could tell that his teeth were
quite large. He was too confused to be afraid.

“Anna!” he
yelled. “Anna, help me! Help me!”

“Michael!” the
man-like thing in front of his yelled. But the voice was the same as the one
Michael had been hearing. It was the voice of Anna.

“Michael!” the
shadow screamed again. This time it had a mocking tone to it. It put its hand
up, as if waving, then leaped toward him. It moved so quickly that he didn’t
have time to even raise his hands to defend himself. The monster slapped him
across the face, leaving Michael to wonder if his cheekbone had been fractured.

“Oh, please
Jesus!” Michael prayed as he screamed in shock. “Someone help me!”

This time the
shadow lunged forward and bit his neck. Gurgling sounds filled the air, but
Michael could barely hear them. He struggled to breathe. The last image he saw
was of the shadow’s mouth, dripping with blood, moving toward his eyes.

Then everything
went black.

* * * * * *

5

“Copy that,
Sheriff,” Jake said into his radio. His heart was still racing from running and
shooting.

“Stay out of the
woods,” Anna ordered.

“Yeah, Sheriff,
that shouldn’t be a problem,” he mumbled as he clenched his teeth.
Christ,
how stupid does she think I am?
he thought to himself.

“Get into the
house and see what you can find,” she continued. “I think it’s best that we stay
inside until sunrise.”

“You want us to
stay in the old Brickton house?” Jake shrugged at his radio.