Inanimate Page 10

  Crass put down the phone and yielded his gaze to the uninformed young Doctor before him.

  “What was all that about?”

  “I’d like to know how Andy Williams died.”

  “Well according to the Sheriff he was hit by a car.”

  “Well…” smiled Crass “…That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “The damage to the body is consistent with a car accident. According to this report the driver was unknown.”

  Jacobs spoke as he sat opposite Crass at his desk.

  MacNamee leaned on the chair behind him while Crass leafed through the death report.

  “He had a hell of a blood-alcohol content in him” stated Crass while meticulously studying his copy of the report.

  “Which is why the story fits” replied Jacobs. “According to that, Andy Williams consumed large amounts of alcohol in a bar named Earl’s in Staunton. He started to get belligerent so the bartender asked him to leave. When Andy refused, he was forcibly removed by a patron and started yelling and cursing outside. After a while he tired himself out and decided to walk back to his motel. A witness from the bar, um...”

  “Tony Oates” confirmed Crass, reading the text.

  “Yes, Tony Oates. He said he saw Andy jaywalking across the road to his motel and that was when he was struck down and killed by an unknown vehicle.”

  “Hold on a second” said MacNamee seeking clarification. “Isn’t the Sheriff named Oates? He is, right? I saw it on the news report.”

  “Very good Doctor” said Jacobs, “Tony Oates is the Sheriff’s nephew.”

  “That’s a little odd isn’t it?” asked MacNamee

  “The whole thing is a little odd Doc. It’s too clean. The driver would have to be going some speed to do this kind of damage to Andy Williams’s body. And yet, in a small quiet town not too late at night, on its main road, according to this report no-one saw it. Now that suggests to me either the driver sped up to hit Andy-which is murder, not an accidental hit and run, or the report is false. Either way it doesn’t look good.”

  “The coroner’s report states he ultimately died of a brain hemorrhage but it doesn’t list any other major injuries. What kind of car only strikes someone on the head?”

  Jacobs simply shrugged.

  “It certainly is suspicious.” Crass said as he finished reading.

  “What now?” asked Jacobs.

  A long moment passed before MacNamee spoke.

  “Shall we go tell Connor?”

  Connor’s big top circus hadn’t opened in days. He had not been in the mood to play since he committed his crime. His toys were with him solely for companionship now and he was happy for that. The now familiar sound of the key in the lock didn’t faze the lad, who was sitting holding Basket when Jacobs and MacNamee appeared at the open doorway. Jacobs scanned the room for a moment before entering. All Connor’s dolls were facing the doorway, lined up as if they were watching the men. Fighting an urge to make a comment about how creepy all this was he stepped into the room behind MacNamee.

  “Hey Connor.” said MacNamee.

  “Hello Greg.”

  MacNamee’s gut told him this was not going to go well but he tried to stay as optimistic as he could considering the news they would be delivering.

  “Connor this is Sergeant Jacobs, he wants to talk to you.” MacNamee said gently

  “I’ve talked to him before. When Beth died.” Connor said quickly.

  “That’s right Connor you have.” Jacobs stepped in “I was the policeman who talked to you and your father after the incident at your house. I’m glad you remember me.”

  “I remember your smell. You wear cologne like my dad does. But you wear too much.”

  Jacobs would laugh if the situation were more appropriate, or if he thought Connor was joking.

  “Well, you have an excellent memory.”

  “What do you want to talk to me about?”

  “It’s about your father.”

  “They’ve already told me he isn’t coming to visit.”

  “I’m afraid something else has happened Connor.”

  Connor lowered Basket and turned round to face Jacobs.

  “Something else?” Connor asked, giving a rare emotive response.

  “Yes son.”

  Jacobs had given many people bad news before and Connor would be no exception to his candor.

  “Your father died last night son. I’m so sorry.”

  Connor blinked a few times while staring at Jacobs.

  “What happened to him?”

  “He was hit by a car in a small town called Staunton not far from the city.”

  Jacobs believed the boy should know only the cause of death listed on the report, not of their suspicions.

  “What was he doing there?” Connor enquired equally candidly.

  Sighing, Jacobs responded.

  “I’m not sure son. But I talked to your dad a lot that night at the station and I know that he cared about you very much.”

  As Connor absorbed this information he looked down at the floor; MacNamee was surprised at the lack of emotional response. He surmised it probably had something to do with the Valium, still in his system from the night before.

  “Ok. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Connor’s face drained of color as he thanked Jacobs, blinking periodically as if taking snapshots of the day’s events.

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”

  Jacobs paused a moment in case Connor wanted to ask anything else. When he was satisfied the boy was finished with his questions he got up.

  “We’ll back in a little while to check on you Connor ok?”

  Connor didn’t respond to MacNamee, instead he returned his attentions to Basket, staring into the Clown’s lifeless eyes quietly as his brain processed the information just given to him. As Jacobs and the doctors quietly left, Connor sat alone in his room again. The walls around him were a neutral color, nicknamed “Institution mango” by the staff due to their drab appearance. As the realization set in that he was now an orphan he started to become very aware of his surroundings. This was now his room and he started noticing mundane details he hadn’t earlier: The rounded bedframes, the soft walls; the chequered pattern on the high window allowing only a little natural light to enter. He had come to the realization that this was his home now and he was going to have to make do with it. The door closed with a thud and Crass snapped the lock into place.

  “So that’s it then sergeant thank you.” Crass spoke quietly as they took a short step away from the door.

  All three halted where they were while they chatted, they didn’t want other staff to hear them.

  “I felt bad telling him that to be honest, it’s a damn lie.”

  Jacobs said in a hushed tone.

  “What do you plan on doing about it?”

  MacNamee asked equally hushed.

  “As much as I can. I think Andy Williams was beaten to death, not hit by some phantom car. And if that’s true then this Sheriff Oates knows about it.”

  “But what I don’t understand is why they said it was a hit and run at all; especially if it’s so easy for people such as yourself to figure out the truth.

  “They probably didn’t think anyone would check” interjected Crass. “They couldn’t had known you were going to ask for a copy of the report.”

  “Yeah” agreed Jacobs “And it would’ve looked very suspicious if they hadn’t send it.”

  “Poor kid. Poor guy for that matter.” said MacNamee

  “Sorry gents but I gotta run. I’ll let you know if I find anything more.” Jacobs said and he shook the doctors’ hands.

  The three headed off down the corridor as Jacobs branched off towards the exit.

  Connor Williams sat in his room, trying to process some troubling information. His sudden awareness was not just limited to the realizations that he had a tiny window, soft walls and a poor color sc
heme in his little room. He also realized he had thin walls. And by sitting near the door he could hear conversations just outside them, even if people were trying to keep their voices down. Now he wasn’t only processing the news of his father’s death, but also that it wasn’t an accident, he was murdered. The people he was supposed to be able to trust, those that claimed they wanted to help him had lied to him once again. As these thoughts started to meld together he began to feel angry, very angry. His breath began to quicken, his chest rose and fell sharply. Gritting his teeth he tried to swallow his feelings, there was nothing he could do about any of it and that was the most frustrating thing for him. He was locked up, institutionalized and he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Night rested on Hallcombes heavily; lumbering darkness enveloped the entire building like a shroud. Outside, the building had sparse artificial light, a clever idea from the board of directors to cut down costs and to stop the place from garnering too much attention from passersby. From the security room Tim the orderly watched a television screen on the opposite side of the monitors. He had picked up a double shift today so he could save for his coming vacation but now he wished he hadn’t. He had forgotten about the UFC fight tonight and now he was forced to watch it on a terrible little portable he managed to procure from the staff room. He had gotten completely immersed in the fight, blissfully unaware of the strange goings on, on the monitors behind him. A steel box contained a half dozen screens, now flickering with static intermissions. Tim was unaware.

  The west wing of Hallcombes, which currently housed Connor Williams, looked even longer in the darkness. Very few shadows could have existed here as very little light was present. Out of nowhere, two large hooved feet landed hard on the spackled floor causing deep indents in the concrete beneath it. A large beast stood up straight. Opening its glistening red eyes, it peered down the length of the hallway. With intent it marched. A thick rope like tail waved from side to side and in the darkness a metal spike flicked out the end. Razor sharp and thick to boot, the creature pressed the spike against the concrete wall as it marched, causing large lines of sparks to fly out into the hallway. The grinding, screeching noise which accompanied it was unheard by almost all the patients. Condensation billowed as warm air from powerful lungs was pushed into the relative cold of the hallway. Scoring the wall for thirty feet the creature moved towards his destination quickly, not just through deliberation but through sheer size as well. It finally stopped. Deep red eyes flickered menacingly as the intruder bended to look at the plate of “Room 101” reflecting its own image back at itself for a second. The beast, which resembled a demonic cross of lion and bull with eerily humanoid features stood at nearly eight feet tall, easily able to peer in through Connor’s window and observe the boy. Condensation steamed up the small viewing window quickly. Connor was awake. Something he did not understand yet had stirred him from his rest. The boy lay still under the steady gaze of the beast. The boy lay still, yet he was unafraid. After the news of his father’s demise he had now, nothing left to fear. In an instant, the creature disappeared from sight and reappeared inside the room. Connor could now hear it breathing from the darkness by his bed.

  CHAPTER 18

  He had been lying awake all night, the Doctors decided not to go ahead with his course of Valium for a couple of days to give Connor time to mourn. Now, with this creature beside him, there was no way he was going to get any sleep. Whether through a sudden surge of confidence or simply a lack of regard for his own personal wellbeing Connor sat up to meet eyes with the intruder. The beast, camouflaged in darkness stood no more than three feet away as the boy’s eyes searched, trying to catch a glimpse of it. Red eyes glinted and condensation billowed out. Connor now smelled the warm breath of the beast. If he had ever smelled sulphur before he would say it smelled like that. Right now he was thinking it smelled like the eggs that went bad that one time in his fridge at home. Connor jumped off the bed unafraid and the beast backed up a little to take the boy fully into his gaze. Peering straight into the creature’s eyes he felt more safe, something inside the monster told him it was not here to harm him. A few moments passed between the two in relative silence. The only break being the locomotive level breathing reverberating around them.

  “Usually people can’t handle the sight of Dixie.”

  A voice broke the moment; it came from the other side of the room. Connor turned to see a figure emerge from the darkness. The dark outline of an arm reached out towards him, illuminated only by a little light from the window to the hall. Connor watched as the darkened hand seemed to make a fist, then quickly it flicked open revealing a brilliant ball of light, perfectly spherical. The ball looked to be loosely in control of its owner as it floated from side to side gently. The figure then flicked his wrist downward to the floor, sending the ball of light crashing to the soft ground below. In doing so it illuminated the entire room with what seemed to be natural light. Connor’s eyes took a few moments to adjust to the initial flash but as they did, a figure formed in front of him. Standing before him in a dark blue pinstripe suit, a handsome man with thick dark hair looked softly at Connor. Calm and laid back he acted like he just performed an everyday feat.

  “It’s not just the look of Dixie people find frightening, it’s the whole package; the heavy breathing, the strange noises, all under a cover of darkness. He really is quite an effective tool for frightening people.”

  Talking gently with his hands the man oozed charisma, mesmerizing the boy so much he had forgotten about the large beast standing beside him. A beast even more frightening in light than in darkness, Dixie was the color of gravel all over with fur coursing roughly up his back and a smooth toned front side. Although he stood on two legs he looked like he would be equally as comfortable on all fours and Connor was sure the beast could reach great speeds like that. Dixie’s expression didn’t change once in Connor’s presence, a constant look of rage donned his large face. Amidst Dixie’s breathing Connor looked at the man and asked confidently:

  “Who are you?”

  Smirking, the man was impressed by how brave this young boy was.

  “I? Well, I am ‘The Eye’.”

  Connor stood, silently coaxing more detail out of the man with his expression.

  “The Eye” he continued “is a name I stayed with many years ago. Names mean very little where I’m from, it’s only up here that they are they required. Essentially ‘The Eye’ is a symbol. It means I watch, I observe, I admire.”

  With that he smiled fondly at Connor this time.

  “Dixie here is a friend of mine; you see my employer and I are always on the lookout for persons such as yourself.”

  “What do you mean? Who is your employer?”

  “I’m not going to go into that for now. Sufficed to say he is very powerful and I am but a mere underling to his bidding.”

  “So, you’re like a demon or something?”

  The man smiled.

  “We knew you were perceptive. An we were right! But the ‘who’ is not as important as the ‘why’. The ‘why’ I am here. And why I am here is to help you in a way that only I can.”

  “The Eye” took a step towards Connor, sympathetically looking into his eyes.

  “I know about your father. I also know that his death wasn’t an accident but that it was covered up to look like one.”

  “How would you know that?”

  The man rested a finger beside his eye and tapped it gently against his face three times.

  “I know a lot of things. I know that you miss your mother very much, I know that you had to kill Beth and I know that you don’t appreciate being lied to. Who does, am I right?”

  Connor looked at the floor.

  “I don’t like being lied to.”

  “I know that. I understand that and I agree with you. In fact my employer and I both think it is wrong that the people who are supposed to protect a nice young boy such as yourself keep treating you like this.”

  “The Eye” lower
ed his tone.

  “We also know you want to avenge your father’s death. You loved him very much didn’t you?”

  For the first time in a long time Connor shed a tear, it streamed down his cheek like a tiny tributary. He nodded while the man continued.

  “And unfortunately Connor, we can’t bring him back but we can help you punish those responsible for what happened.”

  Another tear escaped Connor’s grasp as he lowered his head.

  “The Eye” stepped towards him, placed a hand under his chin and gently raised the boy’s eyes to meet his. He held Connor’s face gently with his hand and peered deep into the boy’s soul.

  “Do you want to make those responsible pay for what they’ve done?”

  With his eyes wide open, glistening with tears Connor nodded; already implicitly trusting the man in front of him. Normally a much more inquisitive boy, Connor did not ask the man too many questions for fear of scaring him away. It was pretty obvious he had some supernatural powers and if Connor was to utilize them he must keep the man interested. He did not want to push him away by peppering him with questions.

  “Now Connor…”

  “The Eye” spoke more firmly,

  “…This is a big decision. If you agree to this; you have to be prepared to take responsibility for what happens to many lives. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “The Eye” took his hand away and allowed Connor to compose himself. With a quick wipe of his eyes and nose Connor looked up at the transfixing man before him.

  “Yes” he said firmly “I want vengeance. I want them all to die.”

  Transfixed on Connor now “The Eye” grinned menacingly

  “Good.”

  “So how does this work?”

  Connor asked the sharply dressed man before him.

  “Well, normally Dixie is the first to approach someone we’re interested in, sort of like a test. Which by the way, you passed. If the person is afraid of Dixie then we would know instantly they’re not what we are looking for. The second part is that you have to actually want revenge, we can’t just force it on you. You gotta want it, and you do, so that’s that covered. Then, after that comes the method. I have got to allow you a way to actually take your revenge, but that’s not always that easy.”