The Dead-End Road, page 19
part #1 of The Seven Talismans Series
As Marc walked closer to the shack, he heard the unmistakable baying of Willie’s hounds. Marc hopped up onto the small porch, “Willie? Willie Murphy?” Marc said loudly as he tapped on the door. He had his pistol out and stood between the door and window.
Willie ran out the back door and the screen door clacked against the wooden frame, the two hounds still howling at Marc from inside. Marc looked in the front window and saw through to the back of the cabin.
Marc went around to the back and saw where Willie escaped into the woods. He could see the old man weaving through the trees trying to get away. Marc jogged along after him, sure that Willie wouldn’t get far. A hundred yards later, Willie stopped behind a big tree trying to catch his breath.
“Come on out, Willie,” Marc said with authority raising his pistol to eye level.
“I’ve got a gun,” Willie said as he stuck the barrel of his shotgun out from the side of the tree.
“Don’t do it, Willie, you’ll only die tired,” Marc said as he crept silently towards the tree. Marc lunged forward and grabbed the barrel and twisted the shotgun so that Willie lost his grip and tossed it to the side.
Willie held up his hands in defense, cowering behind the tree. “I don’t have it, I swear,” he said, not realizing who Marc was. “Please, mister, don’t hurt me.”
Marc flipped out his badge and said, “Calm down Willie, I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to ask you some questions,” placing his pistol back in the holster.
Willie looked relieved and lowered his hands, still breathing hard. “I thought you were those people. I told them I didn’t
have it.”
“Have what?”
“That thing, that talisman or whatever he called it,”
Willie said.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened to your friend? I found him dead near the mound.”
“Steve Barker was his name. Poor Steve, it got him, that thing, it got him,” Willie’s eyes welled up with tears. “I tried to save him, I swear, but it would have got me too. I barely got away.”
“What got him? What did it look like?”
“I don’t know. It was some kind of big dark animal, maybe a bear.”
“Who did you think I was just a minute ago?” Marc asked.
“Those men I sold the stuff to, I met them on their boat down at the river, and they asked me questions about the talisman. Somehow they knew I had seen it.”
“How did you find out they were looking to buy?”
“Some guy I know in Marietta called me and told me about them. He said he would have them call me, but I don’t have their number, it was blocked.”
“Do you know who they were? What were their names?” Marc asked.
“There were three or four men, but I didn’t ask questions. One was named Silas. That’s all I know.” Willie admitted.
Marc knew that he was telling the truth. “Listen to me; you’re in danger. The police are going to want to talk to you about Steve’s death. Right now, you’re the primary suspect. They’re probably on their way here right now. I want you to turn yourself in and tell them what happened. Understand?”
“They won’t believe me, th-they’ll think I’m crazy,”
Willie stammered.
“Just listen to me, you’ll be safer in custody until I figure this out. And get rid of the shotgun. You might not be so lucky next time,” Marc said as he hurried back to his car. He had to get away from Willie’s shack before the police showed up. He didn’t want to interfere with their investigation.
Willie was right though, they will say he’s crazy, and rule Dave’s death an accident. Marc was sure of it – and that’s the result he was counting on. Willie would probably only get charged with looting. Marc knew that the creature had something to do with his death, but the police would never believe it. Best that it goes down officially as an accident.
Now that this situation was under control, Marc could focus on hunting down these men, and finding out what they’re scheming was all about.
Marc met Brooke at Aunt Mary’s house and spent some time with the kids. He felt terrible that the current events were demanding so much of his time. He arranged a meeting at Para-Tech. The events were coming together, and he formed a mental picture of what was happening.
Derek leaned against an equipment rack and listened to Marc and Brooke describe the events over the past few days. “What could they want with this talisman?” Derek wondered.
Dr. Pritchard interjected, “Well, I have a few theories, but it’s based on occult writings that are obscure. All of the legends of old, the former gods and evil beings that we base all of our modern fantasy on, were once real. Or better stated, are real.”
“Wait a minute,” Brian said, “Are we talking about fairies and dragons here or what?”
“No, no,” Pritchard explained, “More like legends of evil creatures, elementals, and demons throughout history that represent figures such as Baal, Abaddon, and Chemosh. One of my theories is that some of these immortal beings take different forms and different names over time in different cultures. I think that whatever is trapped in that talisman is one of these things.”
“But that still doesn’t answer Derek’s question,” Marc said. “Why would they want it?”
“Forgive me for stating the obvious, but don’t you see? Can you imagine being able to contain the actual essence of Baphomet in a talisman? The value of such a thing would be immeasurable, not to mention what you could do with it if you could harness its power. It could rival any modern weapon,” Pritchard explained.
“Whoever these people are, they will stop at nothing to get it,” Brooke said. “The rediscovery of these lost artifacts could change history as we know it.”
“I believe they were lost for a reason, and it’s better if they stayed that way,” Marc said. “Brooke, can you start working on tracking down these men that Willie met. We also need to know more about the history of the graveyard and how it was connected to the talisman. The box I found today was not from the same period as the Native artifacts. Someone had to have found it, and I’m willing to bet it was found in 1939. I think they tried to put it back.”
“While thinking about the connection to the dead-end-road, I’ve put together a property layout of the area as it was back then,” Jay said, putting up a large slide on the big screen. “I’ve got the names of the property owners from the titles and deeds and all the newspapers that tell a story about three murders ending with the abandonment of the town.”
Marc examined the map. “Are those three people buried here at Scotch Ridge?”
“Actually, just six bodies are listed here. The Chair marker we found was the strange memorial about the whole incident. The grave of the priest that oversaw the church is missing, but he was the final victim. Um, here are the names and graves of the other six,” Jay pointed to each one with a laser pointer on his map of
the cemetery.
Marc stared at the screen and held out his hand, and Jay gave him the pointer. The group was silent as Marc looked at the layout carefully.
Suddenly he drew a line from each grave, with the Chair in the center, one to another, making a heptagram and ending on a spot in the graveyard that had no grave marker. “Here is where we will find the priest, the seventh victim,” Marc said, holding the pointer at the location where he believed they would find the unmarked grave.
Everyone in the room was stunned at Marc’s ability to see what they could not.
“We need to go back to the church. Hopefully, this is the last time,” Marc said.
“Jay and Gavin, grab your gear and let’s go,” Derek said and headed for the SUV. “Everyone else, get to work on finding these men that stole the talisman.”
CHAPTER 22: OHIO RIVER
The Maelstrom sailed south easily with the current, headed back to port at Parkersburg Wharf. It was dark and silent on the river just before dawn. Kragen fell asleep in the cabin in a change of clothes with the talisman sitting on the table.
Silas looked at the forested shoreline as a train rolled along the tracks on the western side of the river. He had heard tales of such a talisman in times past while sailing on the eastern shores. One of the old fishermen he sailed with spoke of it, telling stories of its power and mystery. Silas had to get a look at it. He knew how to test if it were authentic.
Silas asked one of the men to hold the wheel. He quietly walked through the cabin towards the head and paused to examine the talisman. The shadow within it peered out at Silas and focused its gaze upon him. Silas beheld the object, the faint glow of the gem mesmerizing him, and he stood there staring into it as if in a trance. The lights on the boat flickered and went out, and the outboard motor went dead.
In the darkness, one of the men on the bow looked down at the murky water and thought he saw a shadow beneath the surface. As he bent closer, the cruiser suddenly jerked, and he felt pushed overboard, and the creature pulled him down under the boat. He could feel its claws digging into his legs as he struggled to swim, and he screamed, letting out a stream of bubbles that spun around him as it twisted and pulled him ever deeper. Soon the crushing pressure of the depths of the river overwhelmed him; he could no longer move but was conscious as he descended, looking up at the last dim light from the surface that faded and was
no more.
Kragen heard the splash and ran up on deck frantically, looking for the man in the water. A swirl of brown was all that remained of where he fell. Silas grabbed a life-ring while Kragen shone his light over the crest of the small waves, waiting for the man to resurface. The men stared out at the water, listening for any cry for help. “What happened?” Kragen asked.
“I don’t know. We’re dead in the water,” Silas said. The boat continued to coast along in the current, and Silas hopped down into the engine compartment to check the power and fuel. Kragen followed, holding a flashlight.
“What did you see?” Silas asked the man at the wheel.
“I… I don’t know. He was there one minute, and then I heard a splash,” the man said as he looked about nervously, not wanting to admit he had fallen asleep.
Silas dropped anchor, and the cabin cruiser spun around in the channel. Although they continued searching, the man was gone, swallowed by the depths. He ran into the cabin and picked up the talisman, staring into the gem.
Kragen ran behind him and grabbed his arm, and Silas jerked it away, “Give me that,” Kragen said. Silas turned and ran up the steps. Kragen grabbed his shirt to pull him back into the cabin, and both men fell, and the talisman slid out onto the deck. The man let go of the wheel to help Kragen and the cruiser suddenly listed to starboard, and the talisman slid to the edge, nearly falling into the river.
“You idiot get the talisman,” Kragen yelled as he held
Silas down.
The man grabbed it just as it was about to slide into the water. Silas struggled, but Kragen punched him and slammed his head against the deck rendering him unconscious.
Silas woke up with his hands bound inside the bathroom compartment at the forward end of the main cabin. His neck and jaw were sore, and he had a splitting headache. He decided to remain quiet and didn’t try to escape, hoping that Dr. Levine could talk some sense into Kragen.
Hours later, Silas heard the men tying up to the pier, and finally, Levine opened the door to the small room that had become the brig.
“What have you gotten us into?” Levine asked.
Silas grunted and squinted at the bright light that felt like a hammer between his eyes. He was clearly injured from the scuffle with Kragen. “I really don’t remember,” he said as Levine helped him up.
The men unloaded the bags of artifacts onto a hand truck and wheeled it into the Wharf building, opened the vault, and stacked everything on the tables inside. Kragen placed the talisman, which was wrapped in a cloth, inside a small box. Silas was held in a storage room until Levine had a chance to talk
with him.
“What happened out there,” Levine asked Kragen. “It seems something is amiss.”
“You think?” Kragen said. “Everything went smoothly until one of my men fell overboard and drowned. And then your man there went ballistic. Hughes isn’t going to be happy about it. We risked a lot to get that talisman.”
“He seems to be in his right mind now. He was once thrown overboard in a storm and nearly died. The situation probably brought back some painful memories,” Levine said.
“If he can no longer be trusted, you know what that means,” Kragen said.
“Let me talk to him. I’m sure we can work it out. For now, I need to inventory the items for Hughes.”
“Do what you need to do,” Kragen said and sat cleaning his weapon. “But Silas stays in lockup until I’m convinced that he isn’t going to be a problem.”
Levine walked into the vault with a clipboard and started unpacking the items. Having worked in the museum, Levine was skilled at calculating accurate estimates. He checked the characteristics fairly quickly of each piece and recorded the entries. The process would likely take the rest of the evening. Condition, size, color, and symmetry were just some of the criteria that the Doctor used to estimate the value. He was able to look over each piece very quickly and write a number down according to each type of artifact. Arrowheads, knife points, spear points, beads, shells, and bands were all classified and sorted and then repacked. Fewer were ax heads, complete necklaces, and finally, the skeletal remains, which were repacked separately. The bonnet, clothing, and talisman were unique and most valuable and were
handled last.
Dr. Levine held the talisman – it felt warm in his hand. He had never seen a gemstone so unique. A substance so rare had to have immeasurable value, not to mention its setting and archaeological significance. He thought the gem alone would be worth at least 50k, maybe more. It reminded him of the one in Hughes’ display case, but this one was different. This one seemed… alive.
Scotch Ridge Cemetery
Marc and the Para-Tech team stood in the graveyard near the Chair, looking at the headstones of the graves surrounding it. Jay took out his list and started to identify the names of the six victims for reference, and then Brian took out a tape measure and made imaginary lines on the ground that drew a perfect heptagram ending in a final spot of grass.
“Well, here he is,” Brian said. “This is where he should be, according to Marc.”
Gavin snapped pictures of the layout. “The Priest’s name was Father Franklin Young. I found an article that spoke of his death. It says that during the crisis, the community looked to him as their protector from this evil, and it seems that when he died, the people abandoned all hope,” he said.
“But why would he have been buried without a gravestone?” Derek wondered.
“It may be that his death was a discouraging blow, and in fear, the people buried him in haste as they left everything behind,” Marc said.
“Makes sense,” Derek said.
“Don’t we need some kind of permission to dig him up?” Jay asked.
“Yes, the city and caretaker should be notified, but technically there is no grave here, right?” Marc said. “I mean, it’s just a patch of grass. We may find nothing.”
“True. I see your point,” Jay said, but handed Marc the shovel, not completely buying into the explanation.
Marc broke ground and dug for a good while and handed up the shovel for someone else to take a turn. Derek went next, and Gavin also, until they struck the coffin lid.
“I guess you were right,” Brian said and climbed into the hole to dig out the coffin.
“Don’t stand on the lid, it may break,” Marc said. “We need whatever’s inside intact.”
Brian and Jay cracked open the lid, which was in exceptional condition after nearly eighty years underground. The stench of the body was overpowering. Everyone held their hands over their face except Marc, who had seen too many bodies during his career, and was unfazed by the fetid smell.
The withered body inside was dressed in discolored black priestly vestments with a large cross around his neck and a rosary wrapped around his wrist. Clutched between his hands was a large bound book that looked like a Bible.
“Well, basically what I’d expect in the grave of a Priest,” Derek said. “Don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Let me take a closer look,” Marc said as he climbed into the hole, not wanting to disturb Father Youngs’ remains. Marc reached down and felt under the legs and body carefully, and along the lining of the casket, but there was nothing hidden under the body. He checked his pockets and carefully lifted the Priests’ sleeve and dangling on the end of the rosary beads was a large skeleton key, much larger than the ones used in typical houses. “Here we go,” Marc said as he gingerly unwrapped the beads and removed the key, and then replaced the beads on Father Young’s wrist. Marc also removed the Bible and flipped through the pages, to make sure there was nothing inside, and then put the sacred book back on the Priest’s chest. The men lowered the casket cover and refilled the hole.
“Guys let’s get a headstone for Father Young so that he has a proper gravesite,” Derek made a point to fix up the grave because he felt bad for disturbing him. Everyone agreed.
“Well, what do you think it goes to?” Brian asked. “There’s only two buildings here to check, the church and that house, which may have been the rectory,” Marc said.
“Gavin with me, we’ll check the house, Brian and Jay, with Marc. You guys check the church,” Derek said.
Derek and Gavin crawled through the weeds to get through to the inside of the rectory. Its foundation and brick exterior just a shell of whatever was once there. The dirt floor and crumbling walls showed signs of use by small animals, but there was nothing that the key could have been used for, which is what everyone expected, but they had to be sure.
Brian and Jay walked into the church auditorium. The house of worship was in much better condition than the rectory, primarily because the ceiling was mostly intact, and boarded windows prevented the rain from coming in and causing it all to rot and cave in. There was significant damage though from the humidity in the air that caused much of the floor above to fall in. There were enough pieces of stairs remaining along the edge of the wall to enable one of them to climb to the second floor.
