Lurking Shadows

Now available in print in Malice from Dragon Soul Press and Memento Mori: Remember the Dead from Pulp Cult.

***

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. As the sun rose, the candle reached the end of its wick and fizzled out. The weather-stained door swung open, and a man emerged. He took a deep breath and smiled as the crisp autumn air worked its way through his lungs.

Then he lifted his assault rifle from where it rested against the wall and hummed as he walked toward his Chevy Tahoe. Toward his destiny and the hail of bullets that he knew would be his fate. He welcomed it all with open arms.

***

It started that October evening.

I was driving the usual beat, my eyes drifting from one side of the deserted neighborhood street to the other. Besides the occasional group of leaves cartwheeling in the breeze, nothing stirred. The same way the last hundred patrols had gone in this corner of Hydewood.

In routine, instincts relax, but mine perked up when I saw a pair of legs at the edge of my cruiser's headlights. I turned my head, looking for the teenager out past curfew or late-night dog walker. No one appeared.

My brow furrowed as I swung the car around at a four-way intersection, my eyes trained on the gray sidewalk as I retraced my previous route. If I had seen nothing, that would have been the end of the matter. A trick of the light, an imagination starved for entertainment, some stray animal: any of the explanations I told myself when the darkness started to play at my mind.

Instead, the same pair of legs appeared in the headlights. Snapping to the movement, I made out a torso and head in the night. For most, this would have been confirmation that everything was normal.

For me, I blinked, then slammed on the brakes. I swung the door open and stumbled into the street, looking back toward the sidewalk caught in the red glow of the cruiser's taillights. Nothing moved. It was not the shadow that had made me stop the car, but how I saw it. If my senses had been correct, the person would have stood over nine feet tall.

I did one last scan of the sidewalk with my flashlight. Whoever it was, they were gone.

I breathed in, letting the air chill the depths of my lungs. Shaking my head, I climbed back into my cruiser and closed the door. As the mirror swung with the door, two orange orbs reflected in the glass.

Spinning around, I found nothing but darkness behind my car, and when I turned back, the mirror reflection, too, had gone.

***

The rest of the patrol went as it always did. But my mind couldn't let go of that figure as I collapsed into the bed, oblivious to the dawn light creeping through the curtains. When I woke up, I felt like I hadn't slept at all. The scattered sheets and pillows supported this conclusion.

After an unsatisfying "breakfast" of Mini Wheats at 5:00 in the evening, I slipped into a freshly pressed uniform and washed my face a second time. After tying my tie and fixing the collar to lie just right, I stared into the mirror, wondering if the lines beneath my eyes really looked that dark. Or was I just focusing on them too much?

Before I left for the next shift, I touched the wilting rose in the vase by the foyer. I sighed, closing the door behind me.

I checked in at the front desk, the desk officer eyeing me as I retrieved my gun and the keys to my cruiser.

"How you been, Dave?" he asked. "Holding up all right after everything?"

I shrugged. "As well as could be expected."

The grunt he gave in response suggested he was far from convinced by my half-hearted words.

I tried to put it all out of my mind as I walked to the garage and found my faithful Ford Interceptor where I had parked it the night before. Some things change in Hydewood, and others never do.

As I turned the ignition, I contemplated how long I would go tonight before my first cup of coffee. Drink one too early and I'd need a second, and that meant I could wave goodbye to any sort of restful sleep. Wait too long, however, and I risked falling asleep at the wheel. Hydewood didn't offer much excitement to keep me awake after the town closed up at 9:00 besides the occasional call to break up an altercation at the bar.

Hours passed, and it was soon apparent that I could expect no call from Josie's as final call at 2:00 came and went without a peep. I drove by just to be sure but found the parking lot empty except for Josie's tan Honda CRV. She was locking the entrance and waved as she spotted my cruiser.

Damn, three more hours of nothing to go.

To break things up, I pulled off at the one twenty-four-hour convenience store in Hydewood. In my experience, anything to offer some respite from boredom and the constant fight to stay awake while the rest of the world slept was welcome. Yet, the graveyard clerk Mickey always seemed annoyed to see me, even though I never bought anything other than a bag of nuts and a small coffee.

Maybe that's why: I've become part of the boring routine for him. I decided as I pulled into the parking lot. I parked a few spots away from the entrance, part of my attempt at weight management.

Silvia had always pushed me to be healthier. Only after she had left for good did I take solid action. Less candy bars, more steps, no alcohol. It hadn't made much of a difference, but at least it proved I could change. The rest of my life was at a dead end. It was one of the many reasons she had given up on me.

And who could blame her? She was right on most counts.

I stepped out into the cool air. It would be a few days until I needed to start wearing my department jacket as the first whispers of winter wound their way through our Midwestern town.

The bell jangled as I stepped into the fluorescent lights and inhaled the familiar smell of overcooked hot dogs and stale coffee.

I gave the customary nod to Mickey, but this time he didn't give me the usual grunt.

"Dave," he said. "How are you holding up?"

This stopped me halfway to the counter stained with a thousand umber coffee rings.

He had asked the same question as desk sergeant, and I answered the same. "As well as could be expected."

"That was your old partner, right? The one that caused that ruckus a couple weeks back?"

Now I turned to fully face him. "Ruckus is one way to put it. Allen killed his wife and then turned his gun on his fellow officers when the neighbors reported the gunshot."

"Were you there?"

I shook my head. "But I saw the aftermath."

"Being former partners with, uh, what was his name?"

"Allen. Allen Trivesky."

"Being former partners with Allen probably hasn't made you too popular in the department, huh?"

I chuckled. "You could say that again."

"Hope things get better for you." Mickey said, turning back to his book.

I started to turn back to the coffee counter, then I paused. "Say, Mickey. Why do you ask?"

Mickey shifted on his feet. "Josie was in here earlier. Said some cops were talking about the rogue cop in the bar tonight. Her words, not mine," he added quickly.

I was about to assure him that any personal affiliation I had with Allen didn't mean I still didn't think he was a sick bastard for what he did. The sight of shattered windshields and pools of blood followed by his wife's skin sickly white from blood loss had erased any doubt in my mind.

Then Mickey continued. "Josie said they mentioned your name, too."

"That's just great," I muttered, setting my coffee and Planter's Mixed Nuts bag down for Mickey to ring up. "Can't wait to see how they take it out on me next."

"Yeah, I've heard cops don't take too kindly to disagreements in their ranks."

"You can say that again," I replied automatically.

Later, as the first gray tinges showed in the east, Mickey's last comment rattled around in my brain. The memories of those final months before Allen snapped refused to be silent, as if I had overlooked something. What am I missing?

I decided to think through the recent past. Perhaps the answer was buried in the details of those interactions with Allen. Back when he and I were both detectives.

We had been assigned a murder case, a relative rarity in Hydewood. It was a clear-cut incident of domestic abuse turned lethal, reinforced by the wife's blood covering the husband when he was brought in along with a plethora of other physical evidence at the scene.

But something about the case had struck Allen as odd. The first responding officer on the scene had noted in his statement that there was loose cash and drugs on the dining room table. But when Allen had looked through the evidence bags from the scene, he never found it.

Then Allen had taken a hard look at the first officers to process the crime scene after the husband was detained. They were all from Internal Affairs.

"Why was IA working a homicide case?" Allen had asked numerous times. "Where did that money and heroin go?"

It was clear what his accusation was, yet I had hesitated to back him up. Internal Affairs' responsibility was to police the department and root out corruption and wrongdoing. But if they were the ones committing the crimes, then who could we turn to? Not to mention the evidence would need to be rock solid or we would be ostracized by the entire police force.

Allen wouldn't let it go, and soon we were both demoted. Poor performance was the official line, but Allen saw conspiracy everywhere. Clearly this was an attempt to silence him and stop his inquiries.

I had stopped speaking with him to try and salvage my reputation with my fellow officers. A few weeks later, and Allen had died in a hail of bullets.

I turned my Ford Interceptor down an alley where the first rim of pink had not wrested the darkness of night. I blinked as my headlights seemed to dim to nothing. I slowed to avoid striking something in the suffocating blackness.

Two orange orbs blazed in front of the car. I slammed on the brakes, but they stayed perfectly still. I watched as they faded with the growing light of dawn.

"All right," I murmured to myself, blinking in the gray haze of the alley. "No more coffee after 3:00."

***

The next night, every shadow held a pair of fiery spots. I tried to focus on the road ahead, but everything outside the cone of my headlights swirled and contorted in my peripheral vision.

Or were those eyes?

I needed a break from my own paranoia and swung by Josie's for the usual 2:00 check in. It was Sunday night, after all, and something about church service seemed to put the sinners of our town on extra edge.

This time, however, I found Josie locking up as I drove past.

"Damn it," I sighed, expecting the usual wave to signal that all was well.

Instead, she waved toward herself. A summons.

I pulled into the parking lot and hopped out of my cruiser.

"Hey, Josie," I said as I walked up. "What's up?"

She looked around and then pointed to my car. "Not here, in there."

"Oh, come on, I spend all night sitting in there. I'd much rather stand for a few minutes."

"Dave." Her auburn eyes locked with mine. "Don't argue."

"Okay, okay," I turned back to my car. "But you'll have to forgive the mess."

"One wrapper is a mess?" She chuckled as we sat in the front of the car. "Nature Valley Fruit and Nut," she read the label. "Still trying to get healthy for Silvia, huh?"

"Well, now it's just self-improvement." I patted my protruding gut. "Can't you tell?"

"Keep working at it, Dave." The grin dropped from Josie's face, and she stared at the brick wall in front of the cruiser. "There's something we need to talk about. There were some cops in the bar the other night."

"Yeah, Mickey said you were talking about that."

Josie turned to face me. "So he passed on the message?"

"Yes," I said, my eyebrow rising.

"So why didn't you come to see me?"

"I know I'm not exactly popular in my department, Josie. That wasn't news."

She shook her head. "Not that part. They were saying other things. I was wiping down tables a few feet away, and I guess they assumed I couldn't hear them over the music."

"What did they say?"

"I only caught pieces of it, but I remembered your name and something to the effect of 'What does that bastard know?'"

All of Allen's conspiracy theories came rushing back, and I drew in a breath. "Did you catch any of their names?"

Josie shook her head. "They were out of uniform, but I'd seen them around before. I know the name on their tab was Martinez."

I felt something cold clawing its way out of my stomach and up toward my vocal cords. I cleared my throat to keep it down.

"Does that name mean something?" Josie put a hand on my shoulder. "You've gone pale."

I cleared my throat, forcing the ice down before it robbed me of my voice. "Nothing," I lied. "Just another of the many officers pissed at me about my ties to a cop killer."

Josie was silent for a moment. "Okay," she said, looking out the windshield. "Just be careful, Dave. These folks don't seem like the type to mess with."

"Oh, I agree." I touched her arm so she turned back to me. "Which is why you should forget you heard anything."

Josie blinked. "What are you going to do?"

Now it was my turn to look out the windshield. I sighed. "Probably nothing."

"Whatever keeps my favorite nighttime patrolman safe," Josie said, managing a half grin as she patted my hand. "Oh, and try listening to the radio or something, huh? Take your mind off everything that's happened? You always have this haunted look on your face."

I wanted to reply, "You have no idea."

Instead, I said, "Sure, Josie. Good idea."

She climbed out of the car and walked to her CRV. I watched as she went and made sure she made it out of the parking lot all right.

She might be onto something with this radio business. I turned on the stereo, unsettling a cloud of dust from the power button. However, I quickly discovered that the radio was broken. No matter how I turned the dial, it only picked up static.

Maybe the reception is bad next to the bar. I turned from the radio to look out the back as I reversed. Two orange eyes peered through the back windshield.

"Fuck," I gasped.

I was about to throw the car into reverse and drive through whatever was behind me when my hand froze on the gear shift.

The radio had crackled. It was the first noise it had made besides the blur of static.

"…Dave…" it murmured.

My brain temporarily shut down, unable to process these two insane events in the same moment. Then reason regained control.

"All right, screw this nonsense," I said. "I'm getting out of here and checking myself into the psych ward."

I looked behind and found the ghost eyes had vanished. I reached toward the stereo power button.

My name crawled through the static once again. "…Dave…"

Once again, my muscles tensed, freezing my finger in midair. I looked up and found the orange eyes blazing into mine. This time they belonged to a figure. A massive shadow even darker than the night surrounding us. The same figure I'd seen lurking the streets.

"Don't," the radio commanded. I lowered my hand.

"Good…" it droned. "We… need to… talk."

I started to ask what it wanted. Then I shook my head. "No, no, no." I put my hand back on the gear shift. "I'm not going to start talking to shadows."

"No shadow…" the radio replied. "Trivesky…"

I felt simultaneous hot and cold flashes ripple through my skin. Sweat beaded on my forehead one moment and froze the next.

"Allen?"

"Yes…" The orange eyes leaned closer. "What remains… of him…"

"What do you want?" I finally asked.

"You cannot… do nothing… You must do… what I could not…"

"How?"

"Root out this evil… Bring their actions to light…"

I felt my jaw stiffen. "You shot our own brothers and sisters. Why should I follow on your mad crusade?"

"They were not brothers or sisters… Find their names… Find the truth…"

"Or what?"

The radio was silent for several moments. Then the floor started to vibrate up through my feet. Barely perceptible at first, and then it built to a crescendo. The dashboard lights flicked on and off, the anti-theft alarm started, and the car felt as if it would shake itself to pieces.

"Find out…" the radio warned as the figure faded into the night.

A moment later, the alarm shut off and the suspension ceased rocking.

***

The next day, I still had not decided if what I had seen and experienced that night was real or a delusion. In either case, the shadow that claimed to be my former partner was certainly clear in its expectations: help — or else.

It had told me to look into the names of the cops that had died that night. There was only one person I could think of that would still speak to me and could help with that inquiry.

With the name Trivesky more front and center than ever before, I walked into the precinct locker room. The one officer I could even nominally consider my friend was gearing up for a shift at the same time.

"Hey, Tony," I said as I opened up my locker.

"Dave." He nodded. "You hear the big news?"

"Not the good kind, I assume?"

"Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace?" He chuckled. "Nah, Internal Affairs is set to wrap their investigation into the Allen Trivesky incident."

I felt my eyebrow rising. "Oh? Any idea what they found?"

Tony opened his arms. "Squat. Official line is that he just snapped one day. No warning signs."

I closed my locker, turning toward the garage. "Fucking figures," I mumbled to myself.

"What do you mean by that?"

I hadn't meant for Tony to hear that. I turned back to face him. "Doesn't it strike you as odd that Allen had an entire armory in his house?"

"You know how some cops are. Can't have enough guns."

"Sure, but how many cops build a sniper nest on the second story facing the street?"

Tony closed the few feet between us. "Listen, Dave, I hear you, but lay off the Trivesky questions, all right? This is IA stuff, not our beat."

"Right, but — "

"But nothing, Dave. The sooner we can put that lunatic behind us, the better."

After a moment of silence passed between us, Tony smiled. "Brighter days ahead, my friend. Listen, let me buy you a beer after our shift, huh?"

I felt myself returning the smile. "Tony, I can't help but think you're more than aware that Josie's Pub is not open at 6:00 in the morning."

"Oh, really? What a shame. Guess I'll have to get you on the next shift."

"A real shame." I paused. "Say, Tony, you think you could ask one of your IA buddies for a copy of that report? I still feel like there's something more I could have done to stop all of this. Maybe that report will help me feel more at ease."

Tony studied me for a moment and then nodded. "I'll see what I can do, Dave."

***

The night had passed without any orange-eyed shadows appearing in my windshield or whispers of the dead coming through my car stereo. Then again, I had yanked the radio out of the dashboard and unplugged it.

When I opened my locker, a manila folder sat on the top shelf.

I flipped through the pages of officer statements and crime scene details until I found the list of victims:

Kim Lee, 29, HPD, Internal Affairs

Kyle Reeves, 34, HPD, Internal Affairs

Lorne Michaels, 41, HPD, Internal Affairs

Sam Blanchard, 25, HPD, Internal Affairs

Then I turned the page.

Wynn Trivesky, 32, spouse of A. Trivesky and retired HPD, Internal Affairs

I nearly dropped the report.

Was Allen really so committed to uncovering this conspiracy that he would kill his own wife? Did he know that would draw the others out? Or had he gone so far down the rabbit hole that he saw demons everywhere?

Then again, why had so many Internal Affairs officers been on the scene?

The shadow had said to find their names and I would find the truth. Was this that truth? Had Allen really uncovered a criminal ring within the Hydewood Police Department and decided this was the only way to bring them to justice?

There was something here. I couldn't ignore it anymore.

I'll bring this to the chief and see how she wants to handle —

Something pressed into my back.

"Dave," a familiar voice muttered. "Let's take a walk."

I turned around to find a standard-issue Glock pointed at my stomach. I looked up at the hard eyes and close-cropped black hair.

"Martinez," I said, struggling to control my voice. "What's this about?"

At the same moment, I glanced around the locker room. Empty.

"You've been asking questions, turning over stones. Time we had a chat about priorities."

"You're going to kidnap me from a police station?"

"Everybody else knows when not to ask questions," Martinez grunted, motioning toward the garage with his sidearm. "Now walk."

***

When I ducked into the back of the waiting police cruiser, I had another shock as I looked across the seat.

"Tony," I gasped. Then I saw the gun he had pointed at me. "You son of a bitch, you sold me out!"

"Sorry, Dave, but you gave me no choice." He smiled. "I did deliver that report, though, didn't I?"

I nodded. "Can't be mad about that, at least."

Martinez climbed into the passenger seat, and I looked at the driver. "What a shock, another Internal Affairs officer."

"Shut up, Dave," Kasey growled at me. "Your bastard partner killed my best friend."

"If only he could have killed you all," I spat back.

"Yes, Allen sure did have us dead to rights," Martinez said as the car started driving west.

Toward the outskirts of town, I realized.

"He nearly cut the head off the snake when he shot Mrs. Trivesky," Martinez continued. "But fortunately, she had groomed a capable second in command since retiring. And once you're out of the picture, that will be the end of this whole ordeal."

"Why?" I asked, knowing that if he answered this question, then it was all over. They would only tell me if they knew I would never repeat it. "Why turn dirty?"

"It's not like our salaries leave us much of a choice. I had a sick daughter." Martinez pointed to the driver. "Kasey had gambling debts. And Tony, well, Tony just figured it was better to go with the flow than try to make it as an honest cop in this dead-end town. There are plenty of other reasons, but not much point getting into them since that son of bitch wiped most of our roster clean."

Martinez chuckled after a moment of icy silence. "At least profit sharing has greatly improved with only three of us left."

***

Eventually, we pulled off the highway onto a gravel lane. At the end of the winding road stood a rusting aluminum warehouse.

So this is it, I thought as they marched me into the shadows smelling of mold and must. This is how I die.

"Well," Martinez said as I faced the three of them with my hands on my head. "It's been fun catching up, Dave, but we all know why we're here."

"Just make it quick, please," I said.

"Of course." Martinez raised his Glock. "We're not savages."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tony said. "You said we were just going to rough him up."

Martinez lowered his gun slightly as he looked to his right. "I know you're still learning the ropes, kid, but what choice do we have? This is the only way to ensure he stays silent."

"I don't know…"

In that moment, I realized that they had never disarmed me. I looked at Kasey and saw she was also staring at Tony. Slowly, I lowered my right hand and unclasped the restraining strap from my Glock.

I yanked the pistol free, not caring about stealth now. Kasey was closest, so I turned my gun onto her and fired from the hip.

She gasped as the shot echoed around the metal walls and collapsed, grasping her stomach. I turned toward Martinez, but he raised his pistol first. I felt a boot kick me in the chest. Then a second one crashed down on my forehead as the world went black.

***

For a moment, I was stunned there was no pain. Then I looked down and saw my body in front of me.

Shit. I'm dead.

Blood was streaming from my forehead and chest and pooling across the cement. My pupils had widened to the size of quarters as they stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

In front of me, Martinez was putting pressure on Kasey's wound. Judging by the widening circle of blood on her shirt, it wasn't working.

Tony's voice reached my ears, but it was distorted, like traveling through water. "This is fucked. We got to get her to a hospital."

"No hospital," Martinez hissed at him. "They'll ask too many questions."

He pivoted back to Kasey, slapping her cheek with a reddened hand. "Hey, stay with me. You hear me? Don't go to sleep."

"Dave?" a voice reached me free of distortion. "Oh, no, Dave."

I turned and found the translucent form of Allen. He looked at me with pained eyes. "This isn't how I wanted any of this to go."

"Allen?" I blinked. "But you looked so different before."

Allen's eyes widened. "No, Dave, that wasn't me you saw."

"Then… what was it?"

"Something created from my mistakes. Something born of all that bloodshed and violence. All that death created a void, and that void now hunts for more."

His eyes focused on something past me. "Oh, God."

I followed his eyes to the shadow. It had grown in height, now approaching the ceiling of the metal warehouse.

"There is still time…" it hissed. "You can make them pay…"

"No, Dave," Allen begged. "Don't listen to it. I made that mistake. The price is too high."

My eyes moved to my paling face as the blood slowed to a trickle. "We can't let them get away with this. Or we both died in vain."

"Dave, please."

I turned my back on him. "Tell me what I must do."

The shadow pointed to Martinez. "Approach…"

I walked up to Martinez. He gave no indication he could see me.

"Reach inside…"

I pushed my hand into his chest. Martinez shifted slightly but kept pressing bandages against Kasey.

"Feel his thoughts…"

Panic. Desperation. Anger at me for messing everything up. Annoyance at Tony for losing his shit and not helping.

"Take command…"

I envisioned him drawing his Glock.

The vision cleared, and I realized Martinez was pressing his gun against Kasey's forehead. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Martinez blinked, not quite sure what was happening.

"Don't do this," Allen whispered. "Don't give it what it wants."

I hesitated, but then the vision of my blood staining the floor returned.

"Blood for blood…" the shadow whispered.

Yes. Blood for blood. They killed me. Now I'll kill them all.

I envisioned Martinez's finger closing around the trigger.

The warehouse echoed with the gunshot.

"No," Tony screamed.

I envisioned Martinez turning the Glock on the rookie cop, but Tony had already drawn. He shot behind shaking hands, and the vision faded as Martinez collapsed with each bullet.

"Okay, Dave. Okay," Allen said beside me. "You got your vengeance. Now listen."

Even through the distortion, I heard the unmistakable whine of police sirens drawing closer.

I walked toward Tony.

"No, Dave! If he dies, then they'll never learn the truth."

"No," I said.

I closed my hands around Tony's throat. The shadow's arms merged with mine, and we spoke as one. "No truth. The only justice is blood."

Tony's face turned purple. He sank to his knees, clutching his throat and waving his other hand feebly at his unseen attackers.

A few more moments of gasping and gurgling, and it was done. Tony lay on the ground, his eyes frozen in permanent shock.

"Do you realize what you've done?" Allen looked down. "You are bound to it now."

I tuned out Allen's feeble words. The cold of death had been replaced by a new heat, stoked higher with every foul soul I had snuffed out. This power felt too good to surrender now.

"There are others…" the shadow spoke with blazing eyes. "Others deserving this justice…"

I felt the orange blaze lighting in my own eyes. "Tell me what must be done."