Part IX: The Wall
“The closer you get to the truth, the darker the road becomes.”
Chapter Fifty-Two: The Date
Detective Manning sat hunched before the TV and VCR, the hum of rewinding tape filling his office. On-screen, Brett Parker flickered in the interrogation room, shadows curling in the corners where the mysterious eyes had glowed. Manning rewound again, studying the grainy frame.
Beside him lay the heap of faxed paperwork: police reports, death certificates, clippings. He flipped through them absently until the female officer appeared in the doorway.
“Am I disturbing you?” she asked.
He shook his head.
She stepped in with a clipboard. “Since you were senior officer at the scene, I need your signature.”
He scrawled his name, not looking up.
“I’m sorry about Tooms and Sanjay,” she added softly. “They were good men.”
Her words faltered, but she pressed on. “I… I know you were friends.”
Manning nodded, distracted, until his eyes caught the line he’d just written. The date. His hand froze.
“What was that date?” he muttered. He shuffled through the paperwork until he found the death certificate. His pulse hammered.
Fifteen years ago tomorrow.
Same day of the week.
His breath came fast. The chill rose along his spine. He gripped the cross beneath his shirt, then dialed his phone.
Chapter Fifty-Three: A Bag of Light
Brett slouched in the passenger seat of the Chevy Suburban, parked curbside at a hardware store. He avoided the eyes of passersby, staring instead at the dashboard, heart beating unevenly.
The rear door opened, and Lauryn heaved three heavy bags inside before climbing into the back seat.
“What’s all that?” Brett asked.
She dumped the contents across the upholstery: oversized flashlights, portable lanterns, and packs of 9-volt batteries.
“We’ve got to keep you in the light,” she said with a grin. “So I bought you your own personal aura.”
She tossed a flashlight onto the seat. Its sudden glare washed Brett’s face, making him squint.
“And,” she added, holding up packaging, “a prepaid phone. One call, maybe, if I charge it enough.”
Her hands trembled slightly, but her eyes shone with determination.
Chapter Fifty-Four: The Woman on the Line
Far away, on a westbound highway, a Mercedes-Benz glided along. Inside, a woman’s manicured hand lifted a cell phone, red nails gleaming in the dim light. Diamond studs glittered at her ears. Her lips, dark red, curled around a smile as she spoke into the receiver.
“I knew you would call.”
The line crackled. Lauryn’s voice tumbled through, breathless and afraid. “Oh gosh, I’m glad I reached you. We’re in trouble. The police—”
“I know,” the woman said smoothly. “None of that matters.”
Lauryn pressed. “It’s getting worse. I can see them now.”
Brett leaned close to the phone. “Ask her about a timeline, a countdown!”
“There must be a pattern,” Lauryn pleaded.
The woman’s tone sharpened. “You must get him to the wall. Brett is the key. Everything will become clear there. Nothing else matters.”
The phone beeped, low battery.
“How do we stop—?” Lauryn began, but the line died.
In the Mercedes, the woman lowered the phone, her smile unchanged. Her lips whispered to the silence:
“You can’t stop it.”
Chapter Fifty-Five: Roadblock
Lauryn snapped the phone shut, her face pale. “She said we need to get to the wall. And nothing can stop us.”
Brett’s gaze shot forward, past the windshield. His expression hardened. “Shit.”
“What?” Lauryn twisted to look. Her curse matched his.
Ahead stretched a sea of brake lights. A line of State Troopers waved cars into a checkpoint, floodlights glaring across the pavement.
“Did your mentor mention running a police roadblock?” Brett asked.
“No,” Lauryn muttered. “Pretty sure that wasn’t in the lesson plan.”
The sun was dipping behind the trees, shadows stretching longer every second. Lauryn’s voice cracked. “We’re running out of time.”
Brett spotted the silhouette of a barn not far off the road. His jaw tightened. “Take the wheel.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’ll draw them off. When I hit that barn’s shadow, those things will come. The cops will follow me. You punch through.”
“That’s suicide.”
“Not if I run fast enough.”
Her eyes glistened, but she slid into the driver’s seat.
“You’d better make it back,” she whispered.
Chapter Fifty-Six: The Barn’s Shadow
Brett crouched low, then bolted into the brush, sprinting toward the barn. Grass whipped his legs, dirt kicked up behind him.
“Hey!” a trooper shouted. They gave chase.
Lauryn gripped the wheel, her knuckles white, eyes locked on Brett’s shrinking figure. “Here we go.”
He reached the barn, chest heaving, and pressed his back against its wooden wall. Shadows engulfed him, swallowing the last rays of light.
The fields stirred. Wind roared, sharp and unnatural. Shapes darted through the grass — elongated, willowy, hungry. Snarls filled the air, deep and guttural.
“Must be a bear,” one trooper muttered, raising his weapon.
“That ain’t no bear,” another hissed.
A third knelt, sighting down his rifle. “I see it. It’s a—”
He never finished. His body jerked back, dragged screaming into the dark.
Brett’s cry ripped through the wind. “No!”
Chapter Fifty-Seven: Collision Course
Lauryn slammed the Suburban into gear, engine roaring. She rammed the first patrol car, metal crunching as it skidded into a ditch. She reversed hard, slamming into the second. Steam hissed from a shattered radiator.
“Come on, Brett,” she muttered.
He burst from the shadows, sprinting, his body battered by unseen blows. The truck door flung open. Lauryn leaned across the seat, shouting words lost in the gale.
Brett dove inside, crashing onto her lap. Something massive struck the door, splattering it with thick, black liquid.
Lauryn floored the accelerator.
Behind them, the troopers dragged their fallen comrade from the shadows. His legs were shredded, blood soaking his uniform. He wailed, shaking uncontrollably.
“It’s okay,” one officer whispered, clutching him tight. “We’ve got you.”
But the man’s eyes stared into the dark, wild and terrified. “Don’t let it take me. Don’t let it back in.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight: Aftermath
The Suburban roared down the freeway, the last streaks of sunset bleeding away. Darkness pressed at the edges of every window, eager and waiting.
Lauryn’s breathing slowed. She glanced at Brett, his hands trembling violently.
“You’re not hurt?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Still scared?”
His silence was answer enough.
Her gaze flicked to the neon glow of a gas station ahead. “Let’s stop. Catch our breath.”
“Why?” he asked.
Her lips twisted into a sheepish grin. “In all that excitement back there… I wet my panties.”
For the first time in hours, Brett laughed. “I think I did too.”
The sound carried them forward as the station’s bright lights drew them in.
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