Voices (Whisper Trilogy Book 3) (4 page)

Kimmel shifted into third, the black Jeep growling in response as it rolled across the blacktop. In the passenger seat, Fisher grunted and glanced across at the General, the gold buttons on his green suit jacket glittering in the mid-morning sun. Golden autumn leaves were displaced as the Jeep flashed past the sun-bleached sign welcoming them to the town of Oakwell. Fisher fidgeted, his polyester coat rustling against the seat.

“It’s not what I expected after the way your people built it up,” he said, glancing at Kimmel.

The General returned the glance, already disliking the skinny, sunken-eyed government official. “We’re still at the town boundary. Give it a chance.”

“You know, a lot of people in my office think this is a complete waste of time.”

Kimmel snorted. “They always do until they see it for themselves. I’ve heard this a million times before.”

“Are you trying to frighten me, General?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, all this paranormal talk. Ghosts. Entities in the woods. It doesn’t seem like something a military man like yourself would entertain.”

Kimmel grunted as the Jeep passed under the trees, the road ahead masked with sun-spotted shadows. Fisher waited for a reply which didn’t come.

“General?”

“What?” Kimmel snapped.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“About scare tactics.”

Kimmel gave Fisher a quick look and saw it all over his face. The half-smile, the raised eyebrows. He didn’t believe any of it.

“Do you think the government would send you all the way out here if they didn’t have legitimate concerns about this?”

“My understanding is it was you who requested someone be sent out here to assess the situation. I’m told you have some concerns for the safety of your men.”

“Damn right I have.”

“And the scientists; you refuse to let them conduct their work? I’m told you banned them from going about their duties.”

“I did.”

“Please, don’t take it so personally, General. I’m here to understand why. I’m led to believe you have an extensive military presence here which should be more than capable of handling this situation.”

“I came here with thirty men. Good ones too. Fine soldiers, the kind who keep this country safe so people like us can keep polishing seats with our asses.”

Fisher didn’t rise to Kimmel’s goading. Instead, he turned more toward the General, eyes devious and sharp. “So I’ll ask again. Why am I here?”

“Because five of those men have been lost under my command and I won’t put the rest at risk any further.”

“Some might say losing five men in a low threat mission such as this could be the fault of the man in charge.”

“I hope you’re not trying to pin this on me, Fisher. I’d be very, very careful if you are.”

“I’m not blaming anyone. As I said, I’m here in a completely impartial capacity. My job isn’t to take sides. The fact is, Washington has some doubts about the validity of your claims.”

“You think I don’t know that? Trust me, Fisher. Before I came here, I’d have been right there with you. Do you think I don’t know how ridiculous it all sounds? Do you think I like reporting back to Washington and knowing how it must appear?”

“Then help me understand. How have you been so helpless here?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Don’t you have weapons? Resources?”

“Of course,” Kimmel snapped. “You have to understand, Fisher. This is something guns can’t handle. My men are afraid.”

Fisher watched the General, waiting for him to elaborate, perhaps for a punchline for a joke which wasn’t coming. Instead, he stared at the road, brow furrowed, hands lightly touching the steering wheel.

“And what about you? Are you afraid?”

“You bet your ass I am,” Kimmel grunted, his candid response surprising Fisher.

The Jeep slowed as it pulled onto Main Street, the storefronts all telling a similar story:
Foreclosure
,
Closing down sale
. Some had already bitten the bullet and were sagging, dilapidated, boarded-over husks, whereas others were just managing to stay open, although it was obvious at a glance that the battle was a losing one.

“Jesus, this place is a dump,” Fisher grumbled.

“It didn’t used to be. Believe it or not, this was a thriving little town until not too long ago.”

“So where is everybody?”

“Didn’t you read the report we sent you?” Kimmel said, more than a little irritated.

“Skimmed it. I didn’t want the content to influence my decision.”

Asshole.

As tempting as it was, Kimmel didn’t say it. Instead he stared at the road. Main Street and its scatter of dying businesses soon gave way to denser tree cover which overhung the road on both sides, shrouding the Jeep in an artificial gloom.

“You can’t stay up there for long,” Kimmel said, more to himself than to Fisher.

“At the hotel?”

“The hotel is bearable as long as you have people with you. I’m talking about the clearing out back in the woods. Anything more than twenty minutes and you start to feel it crawling around inside you. Nobody is allowed up there by themselves. Always groups, and then in short spells.”

“Who made that rule?”

“I did,” Kimmel snapped, “after one of my men castrated himself up there then pulled out his own eyes.”

Fisher swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

He’s starting to understand
, the General thought as they continued down the bumpy track.

Fisher remained silent, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“You might not know this, Fisher, since you ‘skimmed’ the report, but there have been over seventy eight recorded deaths in and around these lands over the years.”

Fisher glanced across at the general, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, Fisher pressed. “That sounds like a lot of people.”

“Those are only the ones we know about. Since we started to actively monitor the site, we’ve found countless bone fragments. Just last week one of my men found a complete human skull out in the woods. So far we haven’t identified it.”

“Still, you can’t attribute those deaths to the house or this… clearing you mentioned. People die all the time. Natural causes, old age, strokes, heart attacks.”

“Fair point, and there have been documented cases of those here too. What we also have are the other deaths. The murders, the suicides. The mutilations.”

“Mutilations? What the hell do you mean by that?” Fisher asked.

“If you’d read that damn report I sent you, you’d already know all this.”

“I’d rather hear it from you.”

“What the hell do you think it means? People who stay up here for any length of time do things to themselves or to the people they’re with. We’ve had hangings, stabbings, bludgeonings. We’ve had people drown themselves in the river, others have set fire to themselves. Perfectly sane and rational people have spent time in that place and transformed into brutal, violent psychopaths without warning or explanation.”

Despite his unwillingness to believe, the hairs on Fisher’s forearms bristled. “What about the fire that burned the place to the ground. Were your ghosts responsible for that too?”

Kimmel glared across the seat, making Fisher aware that he may have overstepped the boundaries with his comment. He cleared his throat and set about keeping on track.

“I remember a little bit about this part,” Fisher said. “There was a couple who lived in the house. I remember reading about how the husband got burned up in the fire, the uh, Sandersons I think it was.”

“
Samsons
. Steve and Melody. You’re right about the burns to the husband. He got it pretty bad. He’s dead now.”

“He was killed during the massacre at the hotel, right?”

Kimmel glared at Fisher. “So you do know
something
about what happened out here.”

“Just vague things I remember from the news at the time. It was a councilor wasn’t it? Went and hacked up a bunch of people?”

“It’s not how it happened.”

“But that’s the gist, right?” Fisher said, reverting to his ‘I don’t quite believe all this’ smile.

“The stuff reported in the news was only half of it. For the record, Henry Marshall was an upstanding, law abiding citizen who had never had so much as a parking ticket before he decided to build that damn hotel.”

“People don’t just change. Maybe there was some kind of trigger, but people like that are inherently disturbed.”

“I saw his psychological evaluations. It shows a complete turnaround in behavior directly in line with the building of the hotel and the mess that came with it. I see that as more than just a coincidence.”

“So what do you think tipped him over the edge?” Fisher asked, interested enough again to drop his cocky smile.

“You know what I think. Don’t try to railroad me into giving you a reason to doubt what I’m telling you.”

“Come on, General. You got me all the way out here. I’m interested in your angle on this. That’s part of why I’m here. The people back at Washington have a lot of respect for you. Do you think they’d have entertained this had it been anyone else who’d called it in?”

Kimmel flicked his eyes across to his passenger, expecting to see the cocky smile he was rapidly growing to hate. Instead he saw a sincere and level gaze, awaiting a response. Kimmel sighed and organized his thoughts.

“Did you ever hear of a guy called Donovan?”

“Of course. Violent psychopathic serial killer. All round nasty son of a bitch. I read up on him out of personal interest way before I ever got involved with this case.”

“Well, what you won’t have read is the link between him and Henry Marshall.”

“What kind of link? Donovan was long dead before the massacre at the hotel.”

“Oh, I know. As I said to you earlier, the stuff in the press and what happened are two different things.”

The Jeep suddenly emerged from the overhanging branches into blazing sunshine. Ahead, beyond the overgrown gravel driveway stood the boarded-up shell of the Hope House hotel. Yellow weeds clung to the foundations, growing in sparse clumps and waving in the bitter breeze. The building itself was a slate-colored block against a backdrop of pale blue sky. Sheets of metal had been placed over the windows and doors, keeping access from curious souvenir hunters. Graffiti, ranging from the lewd to the inventive, adorned every square inch of the building, which, even in the bright light of summer, was both imposing and intimidating. Green tents of various sizes stood in formation in what would have been the car park, and soldiers shuffled from one to another, carrying equipment and paperwork. Kimmel pulled the Jeep up in front of the hotel and shut off the engine, which began ticking monotonously as it cooled. He waited and watched as Fisher leaned forward in his seat, peering up at the building through the windshield, taking it all in. He went on with the story, wanting to finish before they got out of the vehicle.

“As I was saying, the stuff released to the press and the facts are completely different. Everyone knows Marshall went on a murder spree, leaving six people dead and another critically injured. He hasn’t spoken a word about it since despite numerous attempts to find out why he did it, or what changed his personality so quickly in such a short space of time. Since you didn’t bother to read my report, what you won’t know is that, for whatever reason, Henry Marshall became obsessed with Donovan.”

“Bullshit,” Fisher said, eyes bright with curiosity and, Kimmel thought, maybe just a little bit of apprehension now they had arrived at the hotel. Kimmel nodded at two of his men who had approached the Jeep to verify it as the General’s. They returned to their duties at the tent nearest to the hotel entrance.

“I wouldn’t bullshit about any of this, Fisher. The fact is, Henry Marshall murdered his wife some five days before his murder spree and left her to rot in the house. We found her sitting in the chair, head back, mouth open. Goddamn it, I never smelled anything so bad in my entire life. The maggots had eaten out her eyes. It was a mess.”

“Jesus Christ,” Fisher said, swallowing hard.

“That’s not all.”

“Go on.”

“All over the house, in every room and on every surface, Marshall had written or carved the word Donovan. He’d even hacked it into his wife’s stomach.”

That left Fisher speechless, which earlier would have pleased Kimmel immensely. Now that they were at the hotel, however, all he could think of was the dull tingle in the pit of his stomach. “Alright, that’s enough talk. Let’s get this over with,” the General said, climbing out of the vehicle.

Fisher followed suit, his breath fogging in the bitter autumn air.

“General Kimmel,” he said, now all business. “Let me get one thing clear. I’m here to decide if there are valid grounds to close this town down due to your claims. As I’m sure you can understand, the reasons for your request are far from normal and have caused my superiors great concern, not to mention the headaches that would come with having to explain why we were sealing the place off. I like you, General, and I can see why people respect you. I just hope you’re not wasting my time.”

Kimmel stared back at him over the hood of the Jeep, his brilliantly sharp blue eyes watching Fisher. As much as he had done a good job of hiding it, the General could still see a hint of something lingering just beneath the surface: it wasn’t quite fear, not yet anyway, but it was definitely uncertainty.

“I appreciate you have a job to do, Fisher,” Kimmel snapped. “Much like I have one to do too. The difference is, you can do yours from the safety of an office. My men are in danger here.”

“Forgive my ignorance, General, but this is hardly a warzone.”

Kimmel showed a flicker of a smile, just enough to show the tips of his teeth, which unsettled Fisher. “You ask any single one of my men and they would gladly transfer out to Iraq or Syria or any other hellhole on this planet if it meant leaving here.”

“I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

“What’s so difficult? In warfare, you know your enemy. It’s just another man. This… This is something else.”