The Black, page 1
part #1 of The Black Series
The Black
Jacqueline Druga
Copyright © 2021 Jacqueline Druga
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
SPECIAL THANKS to Connie N and Paula Gibson for your help
Burshes for PS courtesy of Obsidian Dawn (www.obsidiandawn.com).
This book is dedicated to all my Patreons. All of you who loaned your time and heart to support this project.
CHAPTER ONE – RISE AND SHINE
Sisterville, West Virginia
The location wasn’t important because it happened without rhyme or reason. Fate tossed a dart at the map and said, ‘this is where it begins.’
Sisterville.
In actuality, Sisterville was the perfect place for it to happen. An inconsequential town that spread out on both sides of rural Route Two with the Ohio River being it’s claim to scenery fame.
Visiting Sisterville was like taking a trip back in time. Parking meters were so dated it cost less than fifty cents to park all day. The streets were litter free and pleasant looking. Shops lined the main road and they still had a five and dime complete with a diner.
Although the Five and Dime was technically a dollar store.
The small town, just shy of a population of fifteen hundred, had an odd little history.
Every Thursday at noon the town shut down. Every business, bank, school … closed. A ritual that dated back to the 1800’s. The reason for why had been lost along the way, and many people made up their own explanations on why Sistersville closed down.
Some say it was to celebrate the sisters who founded the town, and others said it was some weird witchcraft story. Whatever the case, the town closed and no one cared.
The town itself was so forgotten even people who worked two miles away at the local Dairy Queen had to pause and think about where Sisterville was if someone asked for directions.
That was a rarity.
Isolated and perfect for the first event.
And Wilbur Swanson was the perfect first witness.
Too bad no one would hear his side of the story.
Wilbur Swanson didn’t think his town was unimportant. He lived there his entire seventy-nine years and was the town’s verbal historian.
Except for when it came to asking him why the town closed down. On that Wilbur would reply, “We don’t discuss that.”
He was a jokester.
A nice guy.
A creature of habit.
Even before his wife passed, Wilbur had a staunch routine. He tweaked it according to his age. As he grew older his morning jog was replaced with a morning walk, then that was replaced with a morning drive.
But he had a whole routine before he even got in his car to drive to the Five and Dime.
Wake, wash his face, rinse, brush and put in his teeth. After dressing, Wilbur would go to the kitchen, make coffee and toast then fire up that new fangled tablet his niece gave him for reading. On it Wilbur read the paper. He preferred an actual physical copy, but since the printing pressed stopped, Wilbur settled for the electronic version.
After retiring he wasn’t one of those fellows who woke up at the crack of dawn. Wilbur’s internal clock had him rising just as the sun did.
That was one of the reasons he was so stunned it was still dark.
He checked his alarm clock, sure enough it was after seven.
It should have been light, but Wilbur figured the recent time change along with a nasty storm caused the darkness.
He turned on his lamp and sat on the side of the bed catching his morning bearings.
When he stood he then opened his drapes, but he really didn’t pause to look outside. All he saw was darkness so he went into the bathroom to finish his wake up routine.
Wilbur went down to his kitchen and while his coffee brewed he wiped off the counter. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten to clean that. It wasn’t like him to leave a mess from the night before. Then again, he was binge watching Golden Girls and just got lost in Season Five when Blanche was at her sexiest.
Coffee brewed, toast perfect, Wilbur sat at the kitchen table and fired up his tablet.
Usually, the news subscription popped right up, but on this morning it didn’t.
It took him a few minutes, only after a couple swigs of his coffee and bites of his toast, but he finally figured out why it wasn’t showing up.
He didn’t have an internet connection.
Wilbur may not have been a tech savvy genius, but he was more savvy than anyone else in his age group.
He sought out the router and saw a single steady light.
He knew what that meant.
His Internet was down.
“What in the world.” Wilbur shook his head. “Come on.”
He thought about calling customer service with the cable company, then changed his mind. Wilbur didn’t want to be the first caller for anyone’s day.
Instead, he opted for finishing his toast and coffee, and then he’d head to the diner to use their Wi-Fi.
Besides, two fried eggs and an order of scrapple sounded good.
Wilbur always said, ‘when life gives you scraps, find some scrapple.’
And that was what he would do.
The cable company was giving him scraps when it came to a signal so he would get his favorite breakfast meat, scrapple.
He grabbed his wallet, keys, jacket and realized it was still dark. At that point he really doubted his sense of time. In fact, he double checked the phone and clock on the wall.
He wasn’t mistaken, it was nearly eight am.
Where was the sun?
It had to be one hell of a storm coming.
Figuring he’d better get going and off the road before it hit, Wilbur walked to his front door and opened it.
Black.
He muttered the words, ‘What in the world,” as he looked out.
No light.
There was no sight of a streetlight or the neighbor’s house across the street.
Wilbur couldn’t see two feet in front of him.
A big black wall was at his front door.
It really wasn’t a wall. It couldn’t be. It had to be something else.
Perhaps it was his eyes.
Complete and utter blackness.
It was as if the world had disappeared right there just outside his stoop. Little did Wilbur know that in a way it actually had.
Not thinking any more about it, Wilbur stepped into the blackness.
CHAPTER TWO – SUPERSTAR
Three years in a row he was voted Cleveland’s Sexiest Man. Quite the accomplishment considering he had only been in the city for five years.
He never had those types of accolades when he worked in Minneapolis. Then again, Minneapolis focused more on pickled food and their claim to fame of Mary Tyler Moore. Which was ironic because he worked at a news station like Mary had.
Accolades and praise weren’t really what he wanted. Recognition for being the best was why he got the job in Cleveland. The rest became icing on the cake.
Icing he consumed in a gluttonous way.
He just turned forty and he was okay with that. Forty was a good number, any younger, there was a lack of respect. He didn’t even mind if he looked forty. It garnished him respect and he wasn’t treated like a kid.
He liked the mild version of crows feet he had at the corner of his eyes.
Four lines each side.
Any more than that, he would call the surgeon, but four lines were good.
The dashing man wore his darker shade of khaki pants and a blue fitted shirt rested nicely on his naturally toned body. His hair was perfect and dark, The few strands of gray dashed in nicely.
Everything about him stood out and he never blended into the crowd, just like he didn’t blend into the green screen behind him.
He watched the monitor as his guide. Hands moving as he spoke, “We might pick up a little early spring chill, but not too much you have to turn the furnace on full blast,” he said. “No rain right now. So those pesky drizzles can’t be blamed for the jam on the Outer Belt that is crawling slower than a three legged dog on valium. More coming up at the top of the hour. I’m Hero Galanis, your weather warrior. Catch you next hour.”
“And … cut,” the director called.
“Shine. Shine,” Hero said as he walked off mark. “I caught myself in the monitor, I saw it. I have shine.”
The director replied with little enthusiasm or care, “You have forty-two minutes to take care of the shine. Go sit down.”
Hero shook his head. “Obviously, you don’t see the emails I get about the shine.”
“Nope. But I’ve seen the social media posts,” the director said then went into some sort of fake social media narrator. “I see that shine on Hero, is it noon? Or get rid of that shine, it’s blinding me, blah, blah, blah.”
“Oh, you’re funny,” Hero replied. “I am the star.”
“You’re the freaking weatherman.”
Hero gasped out a huff. He wanted to snap out that he was Cleveland’s Sexiest Man, but he didn’t. Instead he walked over to his cubical just off of the set.
He sat down in the chair to wait for his makeup pe
Glancing at his reflection, he leaned closer. “Four. Four shiny spots. How were they missed?”
“Um, you look so good no one saw them?” the male voice responded as in a question.
Her raised his eyes to see the reflection of the young man in the mirror. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” the young man responded.
“Josh right?” Hero asked.
“Yep. Cool. You know my name.”
Hero tapped his own temple. “Like a steel trap. I guess I’m overreacting, huh?”
“Well …”
“I am. I know.” Hero leaned into the mirror and smiled. “Looks good, right?”
“Yes.”
“Not fake, right?’
“Um ….”
Holding his top lip high, exposing not only his teeth but his gums, Hero spun in his chair to face John. “Do they look fake?”
“They look … white.”
“Thank you.” Still holding up his lip, Hero spoke. “Fifty three thousand, four hundred and six.”
“What?” Josh asked. “I didn’t understand you. You sounded like you were on Novocain.”
“Sorry.” Hero released his top lip. “Fifty-three thousand, four hundred and six dollars, that’s what this smile cost me. Teeth and gums.”
“So they’re fake?”
“No, just redone.”
“Cool.” Josh nodded.
“I mean, it’s a lot of money, I know. But worth it. Your parents paid … what for your smile?”
“Um … nothing.”
“Uh, yeah.” Hero tilted his head. “I see that now.”
Josh closed his lips.
“Don’t worry, my parents didn’t fix my smile either. They were pretty poor. I did it myself.”
“When?”
“Huh?”
“When did you fix them?” Josh asked.
“After my first sexiest man nomination.”
“So you didn’t need it. You were sexiest man without the really white teeth and super pink gums.’
“Yes, but they assured ensuing victories. Anyhow … with all this money don’t you think the focus should be on my face? Shine should not happen.”
“No, it should not.”
“What can we do about it?” Hero asked.
“I don’t know. Dude, I’m just a grip.”
“But I’m sure you have an opinion.”
“Well …” Josh’s eyes shifted when Susan, the Assistant Producer approached.
“Hey, Hero, we need you down in the tank. We have some new satellites that came in, we want you to take a look at them.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks,” Susan said and walked off.
“Josh,” Hero stood up. “It was great talking to you.”
“Sure. So … you know what you’re looking at when you look at satellite stuff?”
“I do,” Hero replied.
“You’re a weatherman?”
“Preferred term is meteorologist. But we meteorologists and weathermen learn that stuff. Plus, I worked for NASA for nine years.”
“No way.”
Hero nodded. “Yeah, way.”
“Cool.”
“I’ll be back. And work on that shine problem.”
“I'm just the grip!” Josh said,
“And a good one at that.” Hero gave a swat to Josh’s arm as he walked off.
He’d look at those satellite images. It was routine and amusing. A few of the meteorologist on staff would see something and make a big deal out of it. Hero would come in and let them know it was nothing.
Even though it was taking away time he needed to handle that ‘shine' problem, Hero was happy to help. It let people at the station know he was more than just a pretty face.
CHAPTER THREE – COWBOYS
Nate ‘Duke’ Carson had been a captain on the West Virginia State Police for nearly twenty years. Before then he was a local police officer in Mercer County Pennsylvania. There wasn’t much happening, and he was certain his latest call would turn out to be nothing.
It always did
He walked with a slight limp, just a slight one. Which caused the tall man to lean some. An odd limp that often had people asking him if he had the gout.
Nope.
An injury.
An injury he got on the force when his partner in Mercer accidentally shot him in the knee. He was young and the injury didn’t heal right.
It earned him the nickname, ‘Duke’ because he was tall like John Wayne. He even slightly resembled the hard and rough silver screen, cowboy actor.
He left the station to meet Officer Blaze, who placed the call for backup.
Blaze looked young. It probably was his enthusiasm that kept him looking that way. He didn’t sweat much and stress didn’t get to him.
“Well, what’s going on?” Duke asked.
“You have to see it,” Blaze replied.
Duke wasn’t the only one to answer the call, another squad car, one from County was there along with Blaze. Both cars were parked with lights flashing in front of what looked like a large back curtain,
In fact, that was what Duke thought it was.
One half mile outside of Sisterville, a few feet after the ‘Dickens Diner One Mile’ sign, the black curtain extended across all four lanes of Route Two and a hundred feet on both sides and curved inward.
It wasn’t until Duke stopped his car that he saw, he had no idea what it was.
“What in God’s name?” Duke stated as he walked towards Blaze and the county officer.
“I know, right?” Blaze said. “What is it?”
Duke walked closer to it, it didn’t look solid. It looked like such a thick black smoke that he couldn’t see through it. Yet, it didn’t smell like smoke.
County Officer Mason shook his head. “I have no idea. And I have tried to reach Sistersville. Nothing.”
“Well,” Duke said. “That’s not unusual. It’s Thursday.”
“Aw, yeah.” Mason nodded. “That’s right.”
“Damn weird ass town. They don’t answer a phone after twelve.” Duke peered at the black.
Blaze pointed. “You think that strange genius kid, the one who won the science fair created a shroud of sorts for Thursday?”
Duke shrugged. “Who knows. Anyone check to see if that TV company is filming here again?”
“On a Thursday in Sisterville?” Mason asked. “No, I figured that wouldn’t happen.”
“For the right price it will,” Duke said, and stepped back.
“Maybe we should just go in,” Blaze said.
Mason chuckled in sarcasm. “I’m not walking through that. We don’t know what it is.”
“I will,” said Blaze. “I mean, how harmful could it be, there’s a town behind it?” He snorted a snicker. “You think it’s gone?”
“You never know.
Duke held out his hand as he stepped closer to the car. “Be my guest.” He opened the door and reached in for his radio. “Hey, Sally, can you get a hold of county permits and see if they issued any for filming around Route Two?”
“Sure, thing, Captain,” she replied.
He lowered the radio and watched Blaze. “Hold up.” he called to him.
Blaze halted right by the end of it.
“I don’t think you should do this,” Duke said. “Honestly. Just hold back until we find out if it’s a filming team or something.”
“It’s some weird special effect,” retorted Blaze. “It’s nothing.” He reached his hand outward and placed it through the black wall. It seemed to disappear. “See.” He withdrew it, “Feels cool.” He ran his fingers together. “Leaves a residue. I’ll be right back.”
“I just wish you would …”
“Nah,” Blaze shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Duke switched the channel on his handheld radio. “Check.” He spoke into it.
“Got ya,” Blaze said.
“Lift that,” Duke instructed. “Tell me what you see.”
“Yep.” He pulled out his flashlight and turned it on. The blackness absorbed the light. Holding the flashlight with one hand, radio in the other, Blaze stepped through.
Duke watched.
“He’s nuts,” said Mason.
“Yeah,” Duke agreed, “I wouldn’t have done it.”
Only static could be heard.
“Cap,” Blaze called out over the radio.
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
