Demon Town, page 19
Walter Johnson was charged with drunk driving causing death and sent away for what was supposed to be eight years. The sentence was later reduced for some inexplicable reason and Johnson ended up serving a total of 2 ½ years. Upon his release he returned to Paradise Flats and promptly picked up right where he left off. He could be seen driving into town three sheets to the wind every morning at about 10 o’clock for coffee.
Many of the town folk turned a blind eye towards Walter Johnson’s drunk driving. Some felt sorry for him. He had served his time for his crime and his punishment would be life long as he would have to live with the guilt for what he had done. Others felt that it would be just a matter of time before old Walter met his maker. Live by the sword, die by the sword.
Uncle Pete had no use for the man. It took every bit of strength that he had to push out all of the vile things from his mind that he wanted to do to old Walter. He avoided him as best as he could because he was scared of what he might do. Walter Johnson never showed remorse for what he had done. Never once did he try to reach out to Uncle Pete and apologize to him. What gave him the right to move back to Paradise Flats, anyway? It was hard enough having to carry on without the woman he loved, never mind having to come face-to-face with the man who killed her.
Uncle Pete had visualized the things that he would do to Walter Johnson if the circumstances were right. That’s what scared him so much. He wanted to kill the man. After all this time the wounds were still fresh and raw and time wouldn’t heal them. Uncle Pete hated the man and wanted him to pay for what he had done. Nobody would miss the old bastard anyway.
The only thing that saved Uncle Pete from the darkness that clouded his mind were the memories of Ellen and baby Charlene. That was the name that Ellen had picked out if they had a girl and Uncle Pete made sure that their unborn baby girl was given that name. Not being an overly religious man, Uncle Pete wasn’t sure if there was a Heaven or Hell, but he didn’t want to do something stupid like shooting Walter Johnson and ruining any chance of ever seeing his wife and daughter in the afterlife. Instead, he suffered in agonizing misery hoping that Walter Johnson would receive his due justice, but he also struggled from day to day trying to deal with the grief that consumed him. It was supposed to get better in time, but it didn’t happen. Uncle Pete learned how to deal with it somewhat, but the pain was always there. Some days were better than others, but the grief would come in waves at random times and he would find himself reliving Ellen’s final moments in the hospital as he felt himself losing her and knowing that he was helpless to do anything about it.
“Things have never been the same since, you know that, Mac?” Uncle Pete was looking right at him, but had a sad faraway look in his eyes. “I still miss her after all of this time, but it’s like people leave you to die, as well. Couples that we used to go out with never call anymore. Friends disappeared. People avoid you when they see you coming because they don’t know what to say to poor old Pete MacIntosh. Fuck them all, I say. Fuck all the fair weather friends and family. Where were you pukes when I needed someone...anyone to talk to? Oh, that’s right! You don’t talk about things like that. Man up! Bury those weak ass emotions deep inside and never speak of them again!”
Uncle Pete leaned back in his chair and his eyelids began to grow heavy. He exhaled sharply and his body seemed to melt into his recliner as if his drunken rant took every ounce of energy out of him. His eyes closed momentarily, but then he opened them again and gave Mac a foolish grin.
“You know what the good thing is, Mac? That old bastard’s going to get what’s coming to him.” His voice trailed off and his eyes closed once more. “I almost wish that I could be there....”
This time Uncle Pete stayed asleep. Mac sat there for a bit to make sure that he was okay and set his almost full beer down on the coffee table. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore. He grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and laid it across his passed out uncle. He turned the television off and stood there for a moment watching Uncle Pete as he slumbered. Mac had seen a side of his uncle that he hoped that he would never see again, but decided that he would pay a little more attention to his Uncle Pete from now on and listen a little more closely to what he was saying. More importantly, he would listen to what his uncle wasn’t saying.
As he was about to go, Mac picked up the wedding picture and placed it back on the china cabinet. An idea came to him and he focused on Uncle Pete. He didn’t know if it would work or not with him passed out, but Mac planted an image in his uncle’s mind of Aunt Ellen standing in front of him as she held a baby girl in her arms. It happened in an instant and Mac couldn’t prove it for sure, but a smile seemed to appear on Uncle Pete’s face briefly and then was gone again.
“Merry Christmas, uncle.” Mac said and left.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
With the Christmas holidays behind them, the 3M’s met at the Turbo while Milo was working and made their preparations to hand off everything that they knew about the demons. Their discussions were interrupted on several occasions as Milo was called into duty often to attend to customers. There had been a good dump of snow the day before and even though drivers were advised to stay off the roads if they absolutely didn’t have to travel anywhere, business was brisk at the gas station. Mac and Mikey even helped out a couple of times when lineups started forming at the pumps.
During a break in the action, Milo laid out his notes and flowcharts on the counter and the three of them went over what they knew once more. They took turns reading each page until they had gone through everything. Milo then gathered all of the papers up and tucked them back neatly into a folder.
“Anything else that you guys can think of?” he asked.
Mac and Mikey both shook their heads.
“So much for my career as a private investigator.” Mikey said glumly. “I was hoping to be the next Magnum P.I.”
“There’s not a lot here, is there?” Mac said as he took the folder from Milo and leafed through it once more.
“Just some observations and a whole lot of speculation.” Milo shrugged. “Nothing that Paul probably doesn’t know already.”
“Well, hopefully he can find someone that’s better at the detective work than we are.” Mikey tried to sound relieved that they were done with this business, but there was disappointment in his voice. “So, how do we get a hold of him?”
“I have no idea. He just shows up out of the blue when he feels like it. I have no idea how to contact him.”
“Hey Paul, are you here?” Milo said and looked around the gas station. “We need to talk.”
Nothing.
“So, do we just hold on to everything until he decides to show?”
“Makes sense.” Mikey replied. “I say we just give everything to Mac for when he does reappear.”
A dark cloud settled over the three of them. They were in over their heads and admitting defeat. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
“I still don’t see how we’re going to forget all of this. It’s not like demons strolling around town is something you see every day.”
“I don’t think that it will be gradual either like how he said.” Mikey added to Milo’s observation. “I think that it will be quick. A memory sweep and everything will be erased. Poof.”
Mac shook his head and tossed the folder on to the counter. “I just find it frustrating to be able to see the things that I have and not really know what I’m looking for.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing.” Milo said as he tucked loose papers back into the folder. “I’m not going to miss being scared shitless knowing that there are demons lurking about right here in Paradise Flats.”
“There will still be demons here, you know.”
Mikey was right, but Milo favored the notion that ignorance is bliss. “Out of sight, out of mind. They never bothered us before and they haven’t done anything now that I can see. ”
“I still say that the Olson brothers are the key to all of this.” Mac interrupted.
“Yeah, well good luck interrogating those two fucking whack jobs.” Milo wanted nothing to do with Bear and Dawg. “Besides, I saw them leaving Prairie Flats Motors in a new vehicle this morning when I came to work. They were heading west, so hopefully they’re leaving town and we never see them again.”
“You know that they’re just on a dealer exchange trip, right?”
“Yeah, but a guy can dream, can’t he? The demons may soon be a distant memory, but those two nut bars will still be around terrorizing the town.”
The three of them sat there for another hour hoping that Paul would show up, but they were disappointed. It was getting close to 3 o’clock and Mikey didn’t like to be late for supper even if it was still two hours away.
“I’ll let the truck warm up for a few minutes before we go.” Mac said as he reached into his pocket for his keys.
“Don’t go passing out like old Walter Johnson.” Milo said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mac replied, suddenly angered by the mention of the town drunk’s name.
“Didn’t you hear? He passed out in his truck on Christmas day and dropped his cigarette on the seat. Burnt alive. Hell of a way to go. I thought that your family would be happy to hear that.”
Mac shook his head. “Nope. First that I’ve heard about it. Where did it happen?”
“Right in his yard.”
“You’re kidding me. When did you hear about this?”
“Just this morning. That Officer Walters stopped in for fuel. Said that there was nothing that anyone could do. His truck was completely engulfed by the time the fire department got there.”
‘That old bastard’s going to get what’s coming to him.’ Uncle Pete’s words replayed in Mac’s mind. Did he know something or was his drunk rambling just a coincidence?”
“Oh shit, look who just pulled up.” Milo pointed outside at a new Chevrolet suburban parked near the door leading into the gas station. Sitting inside it were the Olson brothers-Bear and Dawg. They weren’t parked close enough to the pumps to need gas, so Milo was in no hurry to get out and help them.
“Must be just getting back from their road trip.” Milo grumbled under his breath.
The passenger door opened and Bear climbed out. He walked into the Turbo, which was no easy feat apparently as his massive frame barely fit through the door frame. The 3M’s did their best not to stare at him and tried to act like he was just another regular customer. Bear looked at Milo standing behind the counter and grunted as he nodded in the direction of the washrooms. Without waiting for response, he walked past Mikey who backed up slightly to let him by. For as big as Mikey was, Bear had to be three inches taller and probably 50 pounds heavier. The bathroom door had barely closed behind Bear when an idea popped into Mac’s brain.
“I’m going for a ride.” he said looking at Milo and Mikey. “You guys are going to have to improvise.” Mac turned toward the Turbo entrance and peered outside at the shiny new suburban sitting there. Dawg was fiddling with something on the control panel and didn’t see Mac looking out at him. The next thing he knew, Bear was walking back out of the gas station and getting back into the suburban.
“I thought you had to take a shit?” Dawg asked as his little brother settled into the passenger seat. “Fuck, we could’ve been home by now.”
Bear merely shrugged and grunted.
Shifting the vehicle into drive, Dawg proceeded to rejoin the highway traffic. Mac breathed a sigh of relief even as a bead of cold sweat ran down his back. So far, so good. The suburban turned and drove through town and continued along until it came to the southern outskirts of town and crossed the railroad tracks. From there it made its way down the gravel road before it as dusk slowly started to settle in.
Back at the Turbo, Bear emerged from the bathroom, grabbed a handful of snacks and was making his way to the counter when he noticed that the suburban that was supposed to be sitting outside waiting for him was gone. He gave Milo and Mikey a questioning look. They were still trying to comprehend why Mac climbed into that same vehicle with Bear’s slightly homicidal maniac brother. Now, they had Dawg’s equally deranged massive brother, Bear standing before them wondering where his ride had disappeared to.
“He must’ve just went to pick up something. I’m sure that he’ll be right back.” Milo scrambled for an answer, but he didn’t like the idea of being stuck here with Bear. What the hell was Mac thinking?
It had been years since Mac had driven by the old Sharp place. At one time the school bus used to come past it, but that was probably back when Mac was in about grade six. Now, the house looked eerie and silent as they turned up the driveway. ‘What are we doing here?’ Mac wondered to himself. Dawg had said nothing to give him any clues and instead tried to sing along with the song on the radio and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
Mac had never been around the Olson brothers much before and that was by choice. He was starting to wish that he had reconsidered his impromptu plan to pose as Bear. There was something in Dawg’s eyes that suggested to Mac that he wasn’t playing with a full deck. It reminded him of that look that a chained up dog gets as it does everything it can to bust that chain to get you and rip your throat out. Only this Dawg beside him didn’t have a chain on him to hold him back.
Mac thought that they would be dropping the vehicle off at Prairie Motors. He had hoped to eavesdrop on Dawg and Sid Williams and hopefully learn if there was something that would give him a clue as to what the demons were doing. It was a poor plan the more that he thought about it now. Sid Williams would have been able to see him for who he really was and Dawg would have most likely gone ballistic trying to find out what Mac had done with Bear. It was a spur of the moment decision, however and now it was looking like a particularly bad one. What if Dawg could actually see through his disguise and he was driving to some remote spot to torture and kill Mac for trying to deceive him?
Other random thoughts crossed Mac’s mind as they drove past the evergreens to the old barn out back. He had forgotten that it was still there after all this time. It looked dark and foreboding and Mac checked for possible exit points as they pulled around behind it. None, except for the sliding door that they were now parked in front of.
“You gonna open it up or what?” Dawg asked holding up a set of keys. Mac grunted and took the keys and exited the vehicle. There was a large sliding latch on the door with a heavy duty padlock and chain. Fumbling with the keys, Mac opened the lock on his fourth try and slid the door open. He turned around half expecting Dawg to have a shotgun trained on him. Instead, the suburban pulled in past him, stopped and Dawg shut off the engine and climbed out.
“Turn on the light for fuck’s sake.” he barked. “We got to get the vehicle back to the dealership before 5 o’clock. And shut the god damn door! What’s with you already? I’m freezing my ass off.”
There was still enough daylight left that Mac was able to find the light switch and turn it on before he closed the door behind him. If Dawg knew who he really was, he wasn’t letting on. The single light bulb didn’t provide much more lighting than what they had with the door open, but Mac was able to spot a red Camaro tucked away in a corner. Close to it was a lawn chair with a baseball bat propped up against it. The cement floor beside it looked like it had black paint spilled on it. A lot of black paint.
Dawg had the back of the suburban open and was taking out some cardboard boxes and setting them on the floor. He then dug around the edges of the carpeting and started pulling it up to reveal a hidden storage area. Lifting the lid off, Dawg handed it to Mac and revealed the contents. There had to be at least thirty shoeboxes sitting there. Pulling out a notepad from his coat pocket, Dawg flipped it open to a certain page and grabbed a pen from another pocket. He took one box out and pulled off the lid and inside it were several plastic bags full of a white powder.
“Holy shit.” Mac murmured.
“What?” Dawg grumbled and looked over at his brother. Bear shook his head. “Keep it down, will you? I’m trying to count and make sure everything’s here.”
For the next twenty minutes each box was carefully removed from the suburban and all of the contents were examined and inventoried in Dawg’s little notebook. Mac couldn’t help but think of Milo and his notepad and wondered how they were making out with Bear. Mac kept a close eye on the door and hoped that somebody didn’t give Bear a ride out here.
Mac was no expert on drugs, but he knew enough to know that all the shoeboxes combined had a vast assortment of illegal drugs. Cocaine, hash, marijuana and several others that Mac didn’t recognize.
“Everything’s good.” Dawg said as he made his last entry into his notebook and closed it. He grabbed a half-dozen of the shoeboxes and walked over to an old wooden shelving unit. Giving it a quick bump with his hip, something clicked in the wall behind the shelving unit and it slid away from the wall. Dawg then pushed it further open with his foot. Mac was amazed to see that it was actually a false wall and behind it there were shelves with some other shoeboxes lining one side of the hidden storage area. They then proceeded to transfer all of their newly acquired shoeboxes full of merchandise onto the shelves. When they were done, Dawg closed the hidden storage area back up.
“Okay, we still have almost a half hour to get back to the dealership before it closes. We’ll get everything distributed later. Open up the door.”
As they drove back to town, Dawg seemed agitated. He changed the radio channel constantly and mumbled to himself. Glancing over at Bear, he clearly had something on his mind.
“You know what I think? I think that we should have a little sit down with the demons and discuss our working relationship. I mean, we’re the ones risking our necks doing all the dirty work for them. They’re getting stinking rich off the fruits of our labor. We risk getting locked up, while they sit back and count their money. I think maybe we should negotiate our arrangement with ol’ Sid when we get back to the dealership. What do you think?”
