Darkly The Thunder (10 page)

The phone rang and dispatch answered. “It's the governor, Sheriff. Returning your call.”

“I didn't call the governor.”

“He said you called and told his secretary it was top priority. A matter of life and death.”

“What the hell?” Gordie muttered, taking the phone. Then it came to him. The damn voice had called. “Sheriff Rivera here, Governor.”

“What's the problem in Blanco County, Sheriff?”

“Well, sir, we do have a problem, but I did not call your office.”

“Is that a fact? Well, somebody claiming to be you called. He told my secretary that I was a lard-assed dickhead, and then told her some damned perverted acts he'd like her to do with him.”

“I'm sorry about that, sir. But I did not call you.”

OF COURSE, HE DIDN'T CALL YOU, the voice boomed. THIS SHANTY IRISH HALF-SPIC DOESN'T HAVE THE SENSE TO DIAL A PHONE. I CALLED YOU.

Not punch out the numbers, Gordie noticed. Touch-tone phones were not around thirty years ago.

“What in the hell is that, Rivera?”

“Part of the problem, sir. Or I should say, all of the problem.”

GET IT RIGHT, TACO-BREATH. I DON'T WANT TO SHARE THE GLORY WITH ANYONE.

“You'd better identify yourself!” Governor Siatos shouted.

FOR WANT OF A NAIL, THE SHOE WAS LOST

FOR WANT OF A SHOE, THE HORSE WAS LOST

FOR WANT OF A HORSE, THE RIDER WAS LOST . . .

OH, HELL, YOU KNOW THE REST, YOU IGNORANT GREEK TURD.

Gordie listened as the governor let the profane hammer down and let it down hard. For about a full minute.

When he had wound down, Gordie asked, “You all through, sir?”

“Yeah!” Siatos panted. “Sheriff, what in the hell is going on there?”

“No press on this, sir. Please?”

“You have my word on it.”

As quickly and succinctly as he could, Gordie explained.

“It's a flying saucer!” Siatos shouted. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. We got us a flying saucer landed in Colorado.”

Gordie covered the cup with one hand and said to Watts, “He thinks it's a flying saucer.”

Watts grimaced. “He would.” Governor Siatos was a very liberal Democrat, and Watts was a very conservative Republican.

“Hello, hello!” Siatos shouted.

“I'm right here, Governor.”

“Have you found the ship?”

“Governor . . .”

“Do they look anything like E.T.?”

“Governor, goddamnit, will you stop babbling and listen to me?” Gordie shouted.

Silence on the other end, followed by heavy angry breathing. “You had best keep in mind just who you're talking to,
Sheriff
Rivera!”

“Oh, I am perfectly aware of whom I'm attempting to converse with,” Gordie snapped back. “I'm trying to talk some sense into a pompous, overbearing, excitable fool, who somehow managed to get himself elected governor of this state by the smallest margin in the history of Colorado politics. Now, goddamn you, either you calm down and listen to me, and stop babbling about little green men, or I'll call every wire service in the nation, and lay this entire damn mess slap in your lap! Now, how's it going to be, Siatos?”

Sunny started viewing the sheriff with a totally different perspective.

The governor cleared his throat. “Perhaps I did become a bit overwrought, Sheriff. Of course, you have my full attention and cooperation. Sheriff, what is that . . .
thing
over there in Blanco?”

“Governor, we don't have the foggiest notion. What it has done is killed about ten people. Maybe more. We don't know for sure. But what we don't want is press attention at this time. Perhaps we can contain it right here. That is my wish, my hope.”

“And you want me to ...?” Siatos left that open.

“Seal off the town.”

“Drastic step, Sheriff. And a brave one on your part, I might add. But let me ask you this: do you have the approval of the people in the town.”

“That's just the point, Governor,” Gordie explained again. “The thing won't let me evac the town. So I don't want anyone else in here.”

“Ahh! Yes. I see. Good move, Sheriff.”

“Thank you.” Gordie had turned on the speaker so all could hear, and he smiled at Al. The old cop was shaking his head in disgust.

“I hate politicians,” Watts muttered.

“What about food and other necessities?” Siatos asked.

“Drive the trucks right up to the barricades and off-load there. But I don't think that's going to be a problem. I think this . . . creature is going to tire of this game long before we run out of food.”

“Well, my goodness, Sheriff. What's it going to do then?”

“Well, goddamn, Governor. It'll kill us all.” He slammed the phone down, breaking the connection. “Idiot!”

WE AGREE ON SOMETHING, GREASEBALL. WHERE IS THAT GOOD-LOOKING NIGGER DEPUTY OF YOURS?

Judy.

“Out in a unit. Why?”

YOU SURE HAVE A MIXED BAG AROUND HERE. JEWS AND SPICS AND WOPS AND NIGGERS. WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, WIN THE NOBEL PRIZE?

“No. Dr. King has already done that.”

WHO?

“Never mind. Is there anything else you want?”

NO. NOT AT THE MOMENT. I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I WAS LISTENING.

“Don't you have something better to do?”

WHAT A SOREHEAD.

And as before, all knew when the thing had left them. Where it went was anybody's guess.

Gordie studied the report taken from the college kids. He was looking for some common demoninator; something that would link them all together. They had all remained pretty much the same throughout the period since the first murders, unlike many in the town, including the mayor, his secretary, Hubbard, and the town council.

There had to be something.

But Gordie couldn't find it.

He wrote his thoughts on a pad and passed it around. All agreed that he was on the right track, but no one could add anything.

Rich Dawson came in for a break, and reported that a lot of wild parties were breaking out all over the town. Heavy drinking, folks running around half-naked, and worse.

“Breaking under the stress?” Sunny asked, tossing the question out to anyone willing to pick it up.

“I don't think so,” Watts said. “It would be my guess that this . . . thing has taken control of them.”

“Why would you think they weren't breaking?” Maj. Jackson asked.

“This has always been a tough little town. I don't mean in the sense of law-breakers; just filled with independent folks. This is cattle, farming, and mining country. It would take more than a few murders and a little stress to break most of these folks.”

“I wouldn't bet on the press staying out of this for very long,” Norris said.

Sunny kept her mouth shut about that.

“Twenty-four to thirty-six hours,” Gordie said. “Tops. Less, if our bodiless voice has its way.”

“I don't follow, Sheriff,” Sgt. Dixon said.

“It
wants
publicity. At least that's the impression I get. Whatever it is, it wants a lot of attention. Think about it. It could have killed us all at the outset. It didn't. It's deliberately dragging this out. Hell, it called the governor's office pretending to be me. Why would it do that except for attention?”

“Then we've got some time.” There was a hopeful note in Bergman's voice.

“Until it wearies of the game,” Watts dropped a damper on any rising spirits.

“And then?” Sunny asked.

“Unless we can come up with some method of fighting it,” Gordie told her. “It will kill us all.”

PURPLE PLUMS THAT HANG SO HIGH,

I SHALL EAT YOU ALL, BY AND BY.

DO BOP DE DO BOP DE DO BOP, DE DO.

Pam was not at home when Gordie got to his house, and he did not expect her to be. The breakup of the childless marriage was not all one-sided . . . it almost never is. Gordie was well aware that he could make more money doing something else, and that Pam had never liked his being a cop. First a cop in Denver, then joining the sheriff's department in Blanco County. His success had been swift.

And Pam had hated every minute of it.

Her retaliation had been to attempt to screw her way through the entire male population of the county. And so far, she'd made a better than average dent in that goal.

Gordie took a long, very hot and soapy shower, shaved carefully, and went to bed. He did not expect to get much sleep.

The next thing he knew, he opened his eyes, looked at the clock radio, and was pleased to see it was six-thirty in the morning.

Without getting out of bed, he called his office. “Everything was reasonably calm last night,” he was informed. “Lots of parties around town, but nobody was murdered that we know of. The state patrol rolled in about two o'clock. We're sealed off.”

“Pull half of our people off the blockades, and put them back on patrol,” Gordie ordered.

He walked into his office thirty minutes later, and was surprised to find Sunny there.

“I thought you'd be at the Jennings' house.”

“Hell, no! Those people are
dead.”

“They didn't hurt you, did they?”

“Well . . . no.”

“Sunny, you have to go back there. You're our only link with . . . the other side. You've got to help us find out what this thing is, and if – I don't know how to say this; it sounds so stupid – if someone, well . . .”

He shook his head and took a sweet roll from a sack.

“You want me to determine if a ghost can help us?” Sunny asked.

Even though he felt like an idiot saying it, Gordie said it. “Yes. That's about the size of it.”

“The Force is on our side. Whatever it is.”

“Yes. Try to find out more about that. Believe me, we need all the help we can get.”

He sat down across the table from her. A real looker, he thought. Short brown hair, green eyes. Five-five, he guessed her height. Great figure.

She was appraising him while he was checking her out. She noticed the wedding band. “Kids?”

“No.”

“Your wife a career woman?”

Gordie smiled. “That would be one way of putting it. Yesterday the voice told me she was spending the afternoon screwing somebody named Chuck. Chuckie-baby, it said. I know him. Ex-college jock who busted out of the pro's. He's from over Monte Rio way. Serves him right if he's trapped in here.”

“Why'd you two marry?”

“Oh, love. We loved each other. We didn't like each other worth a damn, but we loved each other. Took me awhile to learn that like is a lot more important in a relationship than love.”

Sunny was easy to talk with, Gordie quickly found out, and it surprised him to find that he wanted to know more about this big-city reporter/writer. Over the past couple of years, Gordie had substituted work for sex. Not that he hadn't had plenty of offers – he had. But with the threat of AIDS, anybody who engaged in casual sex was a fool in Gordie's opinion.

Now he felt some stirrings. He smiled, looking down at his coffee cup. Hell of a time for that to rear up, he thought, amused at the silent play on words.

Sunny noticed the smile. “You find something amusing in all this?”

“I don't think you'd see the humor in it.”

She returned his smile as she stood up. “Richard told me to be there early. So I guess I'd better be going. Conversations with a ghost.” She put a hand on Gordie's shoulder. “It's not real to me, yet. This situation, I mean. It's like a bad dream. I keep thinking that I'll wake up at any moment. I just can't, won't, accept that we're all . . . trapped in here, just waiting to die.”

“Keep that defense up, Sunny. And don't give up hope.”

OH, MY, HOW TOUCHING. PANCHO AND SUNNY. HAS A NICE RING TO IT, DOESN'T IT?

Sunny turned to leave.

HEY, BITCH! DON'T TURN YOUR ASS TO ME. SET IT BACK DOWN IN THE CHAIR.

Gordie nodded his head and pushed out a chair. Sunny sat down.

YOU KNOW WHY I DON'T JUST KILL YOU NOW, BITCH?

“No,” Sunny whispered.

I'M NOT GOING TO KILL YOU. IF YOU DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO.

Sunny's eyes widened.

“It wants its story told,” Gordie said, putting together another piece of the puzzle. “Everybody has a damn story to tell around here.”

THAT IS VERY, VERY GOOD, COWBOY. YOU'RE SMARTER THAN I THOUGHT. I'LL HAVE TO KEEP THAT IN MIND. YOU'RE RIGHT. I THINK MY LIFE'S STORY WOULD BE A BEST-SELLER.

“What are you?” Sunny asked.

WHAT AM I? EVERYTHING. ALL THINGS. TOUGH AS A BOOT AND BIG AS ALL OUTDOORS. The voice laughed.

Sunny said, “How can I interview you and write your life's story, if I don't know what you are?”

UMMM. YOU DO HAVE A POINT. ARE YOU SAYING THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO VISIT ME?

“Not necessarily. But it's rather awkward interviewing you this way.”

Sunny screamed, and Gordie almost lost his just eaten sweet roll as the mangled and crushed body of Hubbard the hardware man was suddenly plopped down in a chair at the table. Hubbard's misshapen jaw began working up and down in a grotesque mockery of speech.

INTERVIEW ME, TWINKLE-TWAT.

Hubbard fell over on Sunny, one bloody hand on her breast. Sunny almost fell out of her chair. Gordie caught her just in time. She had fainted.

“Sheriff!” dispatch called. “It's the governor on the phone.”

“He has great timing,” Watts spoke from the doorway. “You talk to him. I'll take care of Miss Lockwood.”

“Somebody toss a blanket over Hubbard,” Gordie said, walking to the phone. He realized just how powerful the voice was. Hubbard had been stored in a locked and sealed cooler across town in the morgue. “Yes, Governor.”

“I had a visitor last night, Sheriff.” Siatos' voice was filled with fear, very shaky. “At first I thought I was dreaming; having a nightmare. I wish it had been.”

Gordie waited. He didn't like the governor. Had not voted for him; would never vote for the liberal son of a bitch. Siatos didn't like cops, believed in all sorts of gun control, was against the death penalty, and was totally soft on criminals. Piss on him.

“Are you there, Sheriff Rivera?”

“Right here, sir.”

“Sheriff?”

“Yes, Governor?”

“Who in the hell is Sand?”

Howie and Angel had slipped out of their house, using the window in Angel's bedroom. They didn't take time to pack anything. Howie had watched his parents changing, and knew he and his sister had to get out of there.

This time Angel didn't argue. She just pointed toward the window, and they split.

“We couldn't get out last night, Howie,” Angel reminded her brother. “So now what are we going to do?”

“We go to the sheriffs department, Angel. It's all I can think of.”

 

 

“Reed Saunders, Governor?”

“That's the one. Yeah. That's the . . . thing that appeared in my bedroom last night, and . . . scared the beJesus out of me.”

Perhaps it was because Gordie was under such a mental strain, that something had to break to bring him some relief. Gordie thought the sight of the governor cowering on his bed while Sand hovered about him, or whatever it was that Sand had done, hysterically amusing. He busted out laughing.

“You think this is funny, you asshole!” Siatos yelled. “My wife and I were . . . well . . . involved when that apparition showed up!”

The thought of Sand catching the governor in mid-stroke broke Gordie up even more.

Watts had a what-the-hell? look on his face.

Choking back laughter and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Gordie managed to ask, “What, ah, did Sand want, Governor?”

“To clear his name!” Siatos hollered. “Clear his name? I never even heard of him. What'd he do?”

“Killed a bunch of people, back in fifty-eight I think it was. Colonel Watts is the one who punched Sand's ticket.” Gordie smiled and looked at Al. “Would you like to speak to Al Watts, Governor?”

“Yes, I sure would.”

Watts was waving his arms and shaking his head.

Gordie held out the phone, and with a sigh, Watts got up and walked over, taking the phone.

“Thanks a lot, Gordie.”

“Think nothing of it, buddy.” Gordie was entering the coffee room when he heard Watts say, “He wasn't a punk, Governor . . .”

Gordie knelt down beside the couch just as Sunny was opening her eyes.

“I promise you, I am not the fainting type. I had never fainted before until yesterday.” She tried to sit up, and Gordie gently pushed her back down.

“You rest for a time. Richard and Linda Jennings can wait. They have nothing but time.”

She pushed his hand away and sat up. “Richard says that is the one thing they
don't
have. And I think you know what he means by that.”

Gordie helped her up. She was steady. “All right, Sunny. I'll have a deputy escort you over there. See if you can find out what we're up against.”

“I'll meet you back here late this afternoon.”

He touched her face with his fingertips and smiled at her. “I'll be here.”

 

 

Deputy Alan Hibler looked across the barricaded no-man's-land at the trooper.

“Real pisser, huh?” the state patrolman asked.

Alan nodded his head. He had been ordered by Sheriff Rivera not to say a word about the real situation in town. And Gordie Rivera was not a man you wanted to jack around with.

“It's bad,” Alan finally said.

“Governor Siatos didn't tell us what was going down.”

The deputies had been ordered to say, “Killer on the loose.” And that's what Alan said.

“We figured it was something like that. Well, it's a damn cinch he can't get out of the valley. Not unless he can fly. We've got all the roads and trails covered; Siatos really poured us in here. I know you can't talk about it. I'm just rattling to break the monotony.”

“I know. We're trying to keep the press out of it.”

“I heard that. But they'll find out, and when they do, they'll be in here like maggots on a dead body.”

“We got those, too.”

“Can you say how many? You know it's not going any further.”

Alan thought about that. He reckoned he could. “At least fifteen.”

“Damn! You got a grizzly loose in there?”

“Worse. With a bigger appetite.”

 

 

The deputy watched as Sunny turned into the driveway. Only the slab remained, showing where the house had once stood. He watched her get out of the car, carefully lock it, and walk toward the slab. She dissolved into a mass of multicolored sparkles and disappeared.

“Holy Mother of God,” the deputy muttered. He put his unit in gear and got gone.

“You're late,” Richard admonished her.

“It couldn't be helped.” Sunny looked at the two of them. Robin was not in the room. The man and woman seemed so normal. “There is no further need for pretense. I know that you're both dead.”

“We know. But for this . . . period of time, Robin doesn't. So she will be sleeping most of the time.”

“How? How can that be possible? She has to know you are dead. I'm sure she went to the funeral.”

“I'll try to explain. She knew of our demise in our previous life. Not in this one.” He smiled at the expression on her face. “You see, Sunny, we borrowed time from the future for this mission. That is allowed where we are; but only for very special needs.”

They walked into the den, with Sunny being very careful not to touch either of them. “Let's talk about Robin,” she said, after being seated and turning on her tape recorder. “How long can you protect her from that . . . thing?”

“Not much longer. She may have to rejoin you on the outside. And take her chances,” he added.

“Why didn't you get her away from here before it was started?”

“That is not allowed. There are limits as to what we can do. We cannot alter history, and we cannot prevent natural happenings from occurring.”

“You said not much longer. Why? Is there trouble where you . . . live?” In paradise? she also added.