An Incident at Moonville:The Conductor's Revenge: The Conductor's Revenge

By William M. Cullen

Horror strikes in one of Ohios remotest locations! Five close friends, who are Ohio State freshmen, take an afternoon to visit an old abandoned railroad tunnel, known as the the Moonville Tunnel, to do a class preservation project; plus to have a little fun of their own. Once at Moonville they look about the place, marvelling at what is left. Soon, after they have their work done, they find out that one of their friends has an old family enemy, an evil spirit that is out for revenge for what her ancestor had done to him because of love!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 26, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469100685

William M. Cullen

Author’s Bio: William Cullen, born in 1959, grew up in Portsmouth, Ohio. Currently, he resides in Greenup County, Kentucky. Mr. Cullen attended The Ohio State University - Mansfield, graduating from Shawnee State University, in his native Portsmouth, in 1993. Mr. Cullen then went on to attend Marshall University, graduating with an MBA in 1998. Mr. Cullen is an avid reader of historical fiction and enjoys traveling when he can.

Book preview

An Incident at

Moonville

The Conductor’s Revenge

William M. Cullen

Copyright © 2009 by William M. Cullen.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission

in writing from the copyright owner.

This story is pure fiction and is a product of the author’s imagination. Only

chapters 18, 19, and 20, contain historical information on actual events, people,

and organizations involved with Moonville. Furthermore, Professor Frederic

Meyers, (1843-1901), of Cambridge University, was a scientist involved in trying

to discover scientific proof that ghosts, and/or spirits, did exist after death during

the Victorian era. Otherwise, all characters are fictional and resembling anyone,

past or present, is purely coincidental.

I also want to make it clear that The Ohio State University, Ohio University,

the Worthington Local School District, the Ohio Exploration Society, the listed

towns, businesses and artists do not condone the use of illicit substances; nor

do they condone reckless behavior of any kind. These entities and artists are

mentioned only as, and in the capacity of their public domain, that the fictional

characters would have seen, read, purchased, listened to, and/or attended.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

46800

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Epilogue

Bibliography

Dedication

I wish to dedicate this book to the memory of my father, Robert L. Cullen, (1927-2004) who, I truly hope, is enjoying his afterlife.

Acknowledgements

I wish to thank the following historical staffs. The Ohio University—Alden Library in Athens, Ohio, the Athens County Historical Society (also in Athens), the Nelsonville Library in Nelsonville, Ohio and the Westcott-Vinton County Library in McArthur, Ohio. In addition, I wish to give special thanks to the staff at the Worthington Public Library in Worthington, Ohio.

Thy soul shall find itself alone

’Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;

Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude

Which is not loneliness—for then

The spirits of the dead who stood

In life before thee, are again

In death around thee, and their will

Shall overshadow thee: be still.

The night, tho clear, shall frown—

And the stars shall look not down,

From their high thrones in the heaven,

With light like Hope to mortals given—

But their red orbs, without beam,

To thy weariness shall seem

As a burning and a fever

Which would cling to thee for ever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,

Now are visions ne’er to vanish,

From thy spirit shall they pass

No more, like dew-drop from the grass.

The breeze, the breath of God, is still,

And mist upon the hill

Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,

Is a symbol and a token—

How it hangs upon the trees,

A mystery of mysteries!—

‘Spirit of the Dead’ by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

Introduction

Hello, my name is Christopher Miller.

It is my hope that the following narrative explains the horrible incident that I, and my friends, were involved in at place called Moonville, Ohio. What happened at Moonville is by far the most horrifying and tragic event I have ever endured in my young life and how I survived such an event, when my friends did not, is still beyond me. However, it is my hope that you, the reader, will accept my story—for I, still find it hard to believe myself.

I continue to receive many questions about that fateful autumn day before Halloween in October of 2007. All I can really say is that we—Tomas Rawlings Sanchez II, Crystal Angel Falls, Brittany Ann McAllister, Scotty Glenn Sanders and myself—were taking a Saturday afternoon to go to Moonville, a place that once existed, to work on a school assignment for Tomas—a preservation story about Moonville and its legendary ‘ghost stories’—and then return home in time for the second half of the Ohio State/Penn State game. That was the plan. However, and quite unfortunately, our plans, and our lives, were forever changed by an unforeseeable event that still, to this day, seems incredible.

After months of having to recount my role, in this incident, to various other friends and relatives, to the paranormal experts, but mostly to the authorities, I was advised that I should write a book detailing everything I know about what happened at Moonville that afternoon; and after much consideration (legal and personal), here is the result of that advice.

It was such a heart-wrenching process to have to recall the shocking events of that day, on a near day-to-day basis, while writing this narrative. However, it was my desire to present to you all the facts, as best as I could recall them, from the (still) confiscated recordings that I had made; plus with what photos the authorities would allow me to use. Therefore, the following, is as a complete account of what I can recall of our incident at Moonville.

I want to thank the family members of my friends who were so kind in assisting with this narrative. Furthermore, I want to thank Sheriff John Fielding and Deputy Sheriff Bernard Cahn of Vinton County for giving me their valuable time with this narrative as well.

In closing, I want to thank Reverend Robert Garsky, and his family, especially my beloved Heather, as well as my own precious family, for being there for me in my darkest days of recovery. Thank you.

Finally, I wish to dedicate this narrative to the memory of my friends—both here and in the hereafter.

Sincerely,

Christopher A. Miller

Worthington, Ohio

Chapter 1

A Vinton County Sheriff’s cruiser was seen heading east out of McArthur, Ohio, on a two lane rural highway, as the Sunday morning sun began breaking over the crest of a far off rolling hill. In the cruiser was Sheriff John Fielding and he was heading home after working the late shift.

Sheriff Fielding, at this time, was a twenty-two year veteran of the Sheriff’s department. He was wearing his favorite sunglasses, his official black jacket and sipping a cup of coffee from a Thermos cap as he drove. His face showed that he looked younger than his forty-five years and that he could use a shave. As he drove along, he flipped down the sun-visor wanting to keep the bright mid-autumn morning sun out of his weary eyes.

Sheriff? the radio called out to him. It was from Nora Gardner, his Administrative Assistant and local radio dispatcher, wanting his attention.

Sheriff Fielding gritted his teeth, hoping it wasn’t anything to important. He knew it was that time of year where the department heard about local kids doing foolish things—like stealing wood to create a bonfire, or getting drunk and knocking over gravestones, or other such foolish nonsense—since it was the weekend before Halloween. Nor did he want another vehicle crash involving drunken teenagers. Sheriff Fielding, set down his coffee, reached over and unclipped the microphone.

Yeah Nora?

Sheriff?

Who else could it be Nora?

Sorry Sheriff, but we just received a priority dispatch from Franklin County and I wanted to make sure you hadn’t gotten all the way home just yet.

Not yet. sounding weary. What’s up?

Well F.C. is reporting that a group of young adults is missing. They were last seen leaving Worthington around 1:15 yesterday afternoon. They were going out to see the Moonville Tunnel."

Moonville! blurting his discontent for having to go all the way out there when he was just a few minutes from getting home and having fresh blueberry pancakes with maple syrup—and a better cup of coffee. And just what were they doing out there? as if he didn’t already know.

They were ghost hunting for a school project.

Aw geez! wincing and shaking his head with slight disgust, his thoughts confirmed.

That’s affirmative Sheriff.

All right. Now how long have they’ve been missing?

They’ve been missing since last night.

Last night? wondering why the urgency. That’s not enough time to file a missing persons, report. Why didn’t you call Bernie instead?

I was going to but F. C. insisted, specifically, for you Sheriff.

I see. shaking his head—the big boys again. Any particular reason for the urgency?

Well, apparently one of the kid’s grandfather is a bigwig out at Budweiser and he’s pushing on F.C. for us to find them. They were supposed to be home last night by ten, at the latest. They haven’t come home yet and they’re not answering their cellphones.

Huh, I see. pondering that over. ‘A bigwig from Budweiser pushing some buttons, huh.’ Did you ask for any free samples Nora? thinking the whole thing was a waste of time.

No, Sheriff, being a touch sarcastic. But I’ll make a point of it next time to ask.

Sorry Nora. realizing he shouldn’t be making light of a citizen’s concern. I’m just a bit tired from being up all night.

I hear ya Sheriff, with these nights starting to get cooler they make me sleepy too.

So true. Anyway, I’ll bet those kids are holed up somewhere and have their phones turned off, besides, there’s no real service out at Moonville anyway.

Well, apparently, the gentleman is fairly worried over something.

Yeah, what’s that?

Well, hesitating for just a second to collect her thoughts. It has something to do with a video message that a friend of theirs received, a young lady by the name of Heather Garsky, and F.C. would like you, personally, to go out to Moonville and have a look.

‘A video message? How in the . . . ?’ Anything particular about that video message Nora? curious, picking up on the tone.

Well Sheriff, I was afraid you might ask me that, but, apparently, it shows an image of a horrible looking man, possibly, attacking one of the young females.

What! taken aback by this. You’re telling me there’s a video message of a man possibly attacking a young female? Repeating back what he just heard to confirm it.

That’s affirmative Sheriff.

Shit! seething to himself, Nora?

Yes Sheriff?

Did that friend say she knew this man?

According to F.C. she does not. However, she did say that he looked horrifying and was wearing a very old style Conductor’s uniform.

What?! recalling the legend of a Conductor that was murdered out at Moonville back in the early 1890’s.

That’s affirmative Sheriff. Sounds like a Halloween prank gone bad to me; plus F.C. wants to hear back from you as soon as possible.

I’m sure they would. pondering Nora’s point about someone pulling a Halloween stunt that may have gone bad. ‘Or these kids are playing one hell of a nasty prank on this girl back in Worthington.’ How many young adults are there?

Five: three males and two females. Ages are from eighteen to nineteen. They’re all college freshmen from OSU.

Do we have their names? thinking it may be some stupid college prank.

Affirmative. We have Tomas Sanchez, Scotty Sanders and Christopher Miller for the boys. And for the girls we have Crystal Falls and Brittany McAllister.

All right Nora. What are they driving?

They’re driving a 2003 navy blue Chevy Trail Blazer with Ohio tags from Franklin County.

All right, what’s that tag number?

She told him.

O.K. Nora. Tell F.C. I’m on my way to have a look.

Roger that.

Nora? realizing something very important.

Yeah Sheriff?

Do me a favor and call Donna for me and tell her something came up and that I’ll be home as soon as this is taken care of . . . plus, tell Bernie to be on standby.

Certainly Sheriff. And Sheriff?

Yeah Nora?

I just pulled Bernie’s report from yesterday since he was supposed to have gone out that way.

Yeah?

Well, he went out there twice, but on the second round he reported that it was heavily fogged in throughout the area.

‘Huh?’ finding that rather odd. And when was that?

It was in the early evening, before wrapping up his shift, about twenty after six.

I see. All right; anything else?

He also wrote that he couldn’t see anything beyond the gate and that he honked his horn a couple of times to see if anyone would respond; providing that anyone should have been out there. However, he mentions, that he got nothing in return; just thought you should know.

Very good Nora, thanks. Over releasing the button, shaking his head in utter disbelief. He clipped the microphone back into place, muttering. Fool-ass kids; what were they thinking? He then picked up his coffee, swallowed its remaining contents in one gulp and accelerated the cruiser, heading onward for State Route 677 North. As he drove along he secured the cap back onto the Thermos, thinking, ‘I’d bet they got too wasted to go, or call, home and they’re holed up in Hocking Hills, or over in Athens, and made up some kind of stupid picture to send back to scare there friend. Fool-ass kids.’ He leaned over to his left a little, as he steered left and took State Route 677 North, accelerating the cruiser. As he drove on he began to think—‘There’s no reason to be in to big of a hurry’, at least that was his hope. ‘More and likely they’re not out there anyway and I’m on some kind of wild goose chase.’

Sheriff Fielding started to muse over the local lore of Moonville, and its tunnel, as he drove past Austin Powders, a local processing plant. Accelerating the cruiser Sheriff Fielding kept his eyes on the curvy and hilly road unfolding before him. He drove as quickly as he felt necessary in order to get to, and eventually through a small town named, Zaleski. Once through Zaleski he turned left and continued onward with State Route 278 North. As he continued to cruise along, he passed through Zaleski Forest heading towards Lake Hope State Park. Sheriff Fielding knew it would be about another ten minutes before he arrived at Lake Hope State Park and to the road he would need in order to get back to Moonville. He came to a longer stretch of road and pressed the accelerator.

Within a few moments he came upon Lake Hope State Park. Sheriff Fielding figured since he was here he might as well take a quick pit stop since he had been drinking quite a bit of coffee that morning and the nearby beach pavilion has a restroom. He turned left, slowing down to the requested speed limit and entered the park; looking around the area for the Trail Blazer. After a few moments he was pulling into the beach pavilion parking lot noticing that it was nearly deserted except for just a few cars, and couple of pickup trucks, of some early morning anglers—but no Trail Blazer. He picked a spot, pulled in and parked, got out, closed the door and locked it. He quickly looked around again just in case they might be here, sleeping it off, that way he can always report that he took a moment to look. Next he trotted down the stairs to the main deck, and then took the steps to the next level below. At the bottom of the stairs he turned left, cut through the short tunnel and then quickly turned right, hopping up onto the deck. He saw no one sleeping on the deck. He then pushed open the men’s room door and saw that no one was in there.

After attending to himself Sheriff Fielding was back out and on his way back up the steps to the main deck and to the parking lot. He observed that most of the leaves were down but the lake and area had an idyllic look about it that morning. ‘It was a very serene, very Rockwell.’ he thought. Sheriff Fielding arrived back at his cruiser, unlocked it, opened the door, hopped back into the driver’s seat, closed the door and was ready to go. He took another quick look around again, hoping to see if he just might happen to spot that Trail Blazer with five sleeping kids. Hmm, ‘Guess I’ll just have to go on out to the tunnel.’ heaving a sigh of discontent. He turned the key and started the cruiser. He backed out and turned the wheel to leave, glancing around some more. He put the cruiser into drive and slowly headed out of the parking lot and back towards the interstate. As he slowly drove he still didn’t see any Trail Blazer parked, anywhere, along the way. Once back at the main entrance Sheriff Fielding turned left and slowly drove another 150 yards down the interstate.

Within seconds of passing Lake Hope’s picnic and beach area Sheriff Fielding slowly eased to the right and pulled onto Wheelabout Road. He gently accelerated the cruiser, gradually picking up speed. Within a moment, going about two-tenths of a click up Wheelabout Road, Sheriff Fielding came to the intersection he needed. Wheelabout Road itself curves sharply to the right but he must crossover the curve and head straight on down the gravel road that is called Hope-Moonville Road.

Sheriff Fielding accelerated onward, taking the road, passing a billboard sign to his right that reads Eckerd Girls Challenge, picking up the splattering of gravel into his wheel-wells.

Sheriff Fielding contemplated, ‘No one in their right mind would ever spend a night out here. Ever. That tunnel is not a place for anyone to be at during the day let alone spending the night out here.’ Fool-ass kids. muttering through his clinched teeth.

Dirt and dust was being kicked up behind him as he drove along. The gravel road goes further and further on into the woods becoming more rural and remote by the second. After a couple of minutes Sheriff Fielding came to a hill, which he slowly drove up, arriving at an old service road to his left. He stopped to have a look around. The service road was cut out of the nearby hill by the railroad back in the day when the trains use to come through this area; however, he saw nothing out of the ordinary—just the woods and the road. He then looked to his right at an open clearance, where the rail line had once ran, to see if any Trail Blazer was parked there. Nope.

Sheriff Fielding continued onward, slowly accelerating the cruiser, taking the sharp hairpin curve that goes around the nearby hill, which is dissected by the service road. Once through the curve, (which takes a few seconds), Sheriff Fielding again stopped on the other side to look around again at the same service road. He then looked to his right at another clearance area that had been used by the railroad; again, there was no Trail Blazer to be seen.

Sheriff Fielding realized that he would have to continue and would be at the tunnel location in another few minutes. He lightly accelerated the cruiser and continued onward again. He noticed how the trees have grown over the road, in such a way, that it makes you feel like your driving through a tree-lined cathedral in some places; which is spectacularly beautiful in the early morning mid-autumn sun.

Within a few moments he arrived at an old one lane, brick red, trussed bridge. He slowed the cruiser down as he got closer and slowly drove the cruiser across it, looking for any signs of the Trail Blazer. ‘Not yet.’ Once over the bridge, and arriving where Moonville once stood, it would be just a few more seconds before reaching the roadbed.

As he slowly drove on he peered down to his left into the open clearance of the roadbed, past a secured ten-foot long orange pole gate that is used to keep people from parking on the roadbed, and saw a dark colored Trail Blazer parked where it shouldn’t be, about twenty-five yards in on the roadbed.

Now that’s odd. getting a puzzled look on his face, as he came to a complete stop, noticing that the Trail Blazer was pulled over and parked at an angle on the left side of the roadbed—with the driver’s side parked closest to the trees and the passenger front-side slumped over.

Chapter 2

Quickly looking around Sheriff Fielding pulled his cruiser over and parked parallel to the road, near an opposing grassy clearance, to his right. As he sat there, unbuckling his seatbelt, he looked around for any signs of movement but only saw the fall foliage blowing in the morning breeze; he then unclipped the microphone.

Nora?

Yeah Sheriff?

I’m out here at Moonville and I can see the Trail Blazer. Plate number . . . double-checking the plate number with her.

That’s affirmative Sheriff. confirming. Any signs of those kids?

Not yet, but I’m about to get out and have a look around.

Roger that.

Any request for backup at this time?

Not yet, but I’ll let you know more in just a few minutes.

Roger that.

Over. He hung up the microphone thinking ‘If these damn kids slept out here . . . that’s just nuts. Well, I’ll just give them some tough love when I wake them up.’ smirking, amused with the idea.

Sheriff Fielding reached over and grabbed his black crowd-control nightstick, slipping the leather strap around his right wrist. He slowly opened the cruiser door, trying to keep it from creaking too much, wanting to be as quiet as possible so he could surprise the sleeping kids. This’ll put a little extra kick in my morning.

The cool morning fresh air filled his lungs and he sighed with pleasure. Ah. ‘Smells like huntin’ season all right.’ Then it dawned on him that these kids might have come out here hunting or shooting a gun themselves and possibly one of them got hurt while the others went for help. ‘But then again I would’ve seen someone out on the road or heard about it by now. I’ll just have to check around first.’ As far as he really knew, at that time, was that they came out here to see the old tunnel, possibly got drunk and may have camped out. Nevertheless, it is still possible, they might have brought a weapon. Sheriff Fielding, just to be prepared, placed his right hand on his holstered firearm, making sure he still had it on.

Sheriff Fielding cautiously got out and stood up—stretching out his arms in front of his chest, clutching the nightstick with both hands, and began to twist to the left and to the right—letting out a big yawn before taking in a deep breath. He brought down the nightstick, while exhaling, before leaning down and reaching back into the front seat to grab his broad-brim black hat. He brought it out, stood tall again and placed the hat firmly onto his head as the nightstick dangled from his wrist. ‘Now I’m ready to roust some sleeping butts.’ He took a step away from the cruiser door and quietly, closed the door allowing it to click shut only once, leaving a slight door-gap. Sheriff Fielding then scoped out the area for some other vehicles, but he only saw the Trail Blazer. ‘It could be possible that another person or persons were out here and either caused these kids some trouble or helped them out of trouble. But I’ll just have to see first.’

Sheriff Fielding slowly and deliberately looked up and down the road before crossing it, listening for any possible oncoming cars. Not seeing, or hearing anything, he cautiously walked across the road doing his best to keep the gravel noise down to a minimum. He approached the waist-high orange bar and looked over at the lock. Hmmm? ‘It’s secure.’ walking around an end-post, wondering who took the bar down in order to allow the driver to have access to the roadbed. ‘They would’ve either had to have keys for the locks.’ Hmmm. ‘Or, maybe, someone picked the lock and is looking at tampering with State property.’

Moving along, he recollected the strange allure of coming out to see the tunnel and to learn of its history. He, too, had come out here a few times over the years—beginning as a teenager then as an adult (especially as an adult)—in a official capacity to run off all kinds of would be foolish troublemakers with most of them being drunken ghost-hunting students from nearby Ohio University in Athens. Sheriff Fielding knew that some students, usually those that attend the annual Halloween Boo-bash or some of those Goths kids in general, have come out here and had parties, trashing the place out. He wished they wouldn’t do it but he knows that they’ll do it again. ‘They always do.’ shaking his head.

Sheriff Fielding crept further on down the roadbed, clutching his nightstick firmly in his right hand, looking around the area. Hmmm. ‘Nothing really unusual, so far; just good ol’ mother nature.’ As Sheriff Fielding cautiously continued he could see, from the morning sunlight, that the passenger side of the Trail Blazer was tilted. Hmmm? ‘A flat on the right front tire and the right front fender’s all banged up.’ Hmmm? ‘Maybe they took off walking to get help.’

As he got about fifteen yards down the roadbed Sheriff Fielding decided to step off to his right a few feet and look way out across the old train trestle columns to get a glimpse of the tunnel area beyond the creek. Hmmm? ‘There’s nothing out of the ordinary back there; at least as far as I can tell.’ He then looked back over at the vehicle and he didn’t see any of the kids lying about on the ground, in sleeping bags, outside of the vehicle. Huh. He carefully crouched down, and looked under the vehicle and saw no one under the vehicle sleeping. Hmmm? ‘Maybe they’re all in the Blazer. Let’s hope so.’ He stood back up and noticed that no one’s head was sitting up above the window line, nor were the windows fogged up, as they should’ve been, either. ‘Dear God I hope it isn’t some kind of strange suicide pact where they all came out here and killed themselves. Now, these windows do have morning dew on them. In fact, the whole vehicle has morning dew on it. So its been here all night. So these kids have to be around here somewhere, but where?’

Sheriff Fielding strode back to his left the few feet he had just moved, plus a few feet more, in order to align himself with the far left tree line of the roadbed and proceeded forward another ten yards, approaching the vehicle’s driver’s side. He carefully put the vehicle between him and the roadbed as he listened, and felt, the wind softly blowing through the nearby trees; rustling the autumn leaves. Sheriff Fielding shivered as he felt a deep sense of cold air rushing through him. Burrr. He shivered some more, shaking it off, thinking it’s just the cool mid-autumn morning air. He heard his feet shuffling the fallen leaves on the ground as he got closer to the vehicle.

As quietly as he could, he walked up to the vehicle so he could take a good look inside. As he began peering inside, he wiped away the dew covering the window of the driver’s side passenger window and, as he did, he noticed that someone’s legs were lying across the center hump on the floorboard, realizing that someone was in there. He stepped a little closer to see more and what he saw was a young man lying on the floorboard of the back seat—in a balled up fetal position. He appeared to be sleeping but also shivering quite a bit as well. ‘Looks like he’s only got a jacket on.’ taking note that it should be in the upper thirties or lower forties while also noticing that the young man’s clothes appeared to be slightly damp and muddy around the legs and feet. ‘Must have slipped and fell into the creek at some point; and might be catching a cold. Now how odd is this? I would’ve slept in the back with the back seats folded down; or at least on the backseat.’ It was at this moment that Sheriff Fielding noticed a camcorder, connected by a USB cord, to a laptop, that was lying open, on the middle of the backseat and they appeared not to be on. Hmmm?

Sheriff Fielding stepped to his left, to wipe away the dew from the driver’s side front window so he could check and see if anyone else was asleep in the front seat. Hmmm? No one there. moving away from the driver’s compartment heading to the back of the vehicle. Once there he wiped the dew from the rear window and looked inside. Hmmm? ‘No one in the back and no sleeping bags, or blankets, either. Just a cooler and a box with a bag of empties, I’ll bet. Now that’s odd. Apparently, they didn’t come out here to camp; or at least he didn’t plan too.’ Hmmm? ‘So that means either the others slept outside some where, taking sleeping bags with them and not allowing this guy to have one or . . . ‘ Hmmm? He then came back around and walked to the front of the vehicle. He slowly, and carefully, leaned out towards the front grille area, looking on the ground. Hmmm? ‘No one is sleeping under here. ‘I wonder where . . . ? Aw, geez! I hope they didn’t sleep in the tunnel. Or, maybe, they’re already up and out foraging around and they left this one to sleep. But wouldn’t there be some sleeping bags or some signs of people being around here like wrappers, cans, bottles or even a fire pit. Even the dew was untouched on the vehicle.’ Huh?

Stepping back to the driver’s side passenger window Sheriff Fielding looked back in at the young man on the floorboard, held up his nightstick and tapped it on the window. Hey kid!

AAAAaaaa! screamed the young man from inside the vehicle. Is that you Erastus?

‘Huh? Erastus?’ No, it’s . . . .

Go away! screamed the young man, who suddenly fell silent regretting his shouting, fearful that he may have provoked the intruder.

Sheriff Fielding became slightly startled. What the hell is his problem? trying to figure out what was going on. Hey kid, open up. I’m Sheriff Fielding.

The young man heard the loud muffled request but ignored it. He didn’t move except to cock-up his right ear to listen. Then slowly, without turning his head, he peered upwards with his red swollen blue eyes towards the window to see who was there and asked Who-who, is it and-and wha-what-what do you want? trying to get his words out but they did not come out loud enough for Sheriff Fielding to hear.

Sheriff Fielding, again, tapped on the window with his nightstick, calling out Hey kid, open up! I’m Sheriff Fielding of Vinton County. Are you all right?

This time the young man turned his head slightly upward allowing himself a slightly better view, but not responding. In fact, he wasn’t sure what to say, or think, at this moment as he laid there shivering on the floor, causing Sheriff Fielding to wait impatiently for a response.

Again, Sheriff Fielding tapped on the window. Hey kid, are you all right? Who are you?

The young man continued to lie there, peering up at a black shadowy figure hovering at the window, clasping his mouth trying not to make any sounds, but prayed softly to himself Oh dear God! Not them! Please let it not be them!

Hey kid! Open the door will ya and step out here. Geez. being put off by the young man’s behavior, staring at him through the closed window.

The young man, though very frightened, mustered up some courage and responded by shouting, No-no-no thank you! The young man shook his head back and forth rapidly, darting his eyes about, hoping the black shadowy figure will go away.

What the . . . ? No thank you! pondering, looking off to the right side, becoming more puzzled with the young man’s behavior. That’s the damnist thing I have ever heard? looking back in and noticing that the young man appeared to be quite upset over, or from, something. Sheriff Fielding considered a more dramatic course. Hey kid! Do you mind if I open the door?

This sent a shock through the young man. He did not want to respond to this question, becoming ever so more fearful of the black shadowy figure moving around outside; fearful that it might actually get in. Why is he asking me this?

Sheriff Fielding reached over, with his right hand, dangling the nightstick, and tried the door handle on the driver’s side rear door and found it to be locked.

AAAAaaaa! screamed the young man, shivering in fear and fright, at the sound of the handle being pulled.

Sheriff Fielding next tried the driver’s side front door.

AAAAaaaa!

It was locked too. Sheriff Fielding, again, tapped on the window, telling the, obviously, frightened young man Take it easy kid. Everything’s all right. Will you please just open the door?

The young man heard the black shadowy figure above but decided to stay where he was, lying and shivering on the floorboard, half scared out of his mind.

Sheriff Fielding, shuffling his feet in exasperation, tried again, but this time only louder and more authoritatively. Kid, I am Sheriff Fielding of Vinton County. Open the door!

The young man, shivering from the cold morning air, and from fright, turned his head completely upward to look towards the black shadowy figure that’s calling itself Sheriff. He was trying to determine if it was actually a human being he was seeing or if it one of those horrible wretched creatures he saw the night before.

Odd duck. mused Sheriff Fielding, taking a moment to look up at the sky with exasperation at the lack of cooperation he was getting from this young man. He looked back down at him again, more determined, and ordered, Open the door!

The young man shook his head back and forth defiantly, wanting to protect his life, shouted out and upward. No-no-no way! I’m sorry, but I’m not opening that door!

‘Well, that’s something.’ getting a better sense of the situation. Come on kid, open up, I’m the good guy.

No sir! I’m not going to do it! I’m staying right here until they’re gone!

What the . . . . ? Until they’re gone? wondering just who in the hell he was talking about, looking around. He saw the wind blow softly through the trees. Come on! Just who in the hell are you talking about? holding up his hands in exasperation. Sheriff Fielding couldn’t believe that this young man would not get off the floorboard and come out. ‘Must be in a state of shock and freezing.’ Look here kid, I’m the only one out here. I don’t see anyone else around here. Now open up and tell me who you’re talking about? Is it your friend’s maybe?

My friends are gone! he cried out, sobbing.

‘Gone?’ Gone where?

No response came.

After a moment Sheriff Fielding, realizing he irritated the young man, decided to take a half-step back to look around the area for signs of the others but only seeing the nearby surrounding woods and its fluttering leaves.

The young man continued to lie on the floorboard, not saying a word, just shivering, looking up at the window, still wondering if this shadowy black figure was really a man or if he was one of those wretched creatures trying to talk him out of the vehicle. The black shadowy figure stepped back to the window. Hey kid, aren’t you going to open this door!

The young man chose not to respond again.

‘Damn indignation.’ All right kid! Come on! Open this door! Or do I have to open it myself? I don’t have all day. getting a bit more peeved at the young man.

The young man, getting up the courage, blurted out I’m not moving until I get out of here! then turning his head completely back around to stare at the floor under the driver’s seat.

What? exasperated. ‘That made helluva lot of sense.’ Hmmm? ‘Well, anyway, making some progress.’ then telling the young man. All right kid, you leave me with no choice. I’ll be right back.

The young man quickly looked back up and saw that the black shadowy figure had moved away from the window. Where you going? not wanting to be alone again; however Sheriff Fielding didn’t hear him since he had already stepped away and was heading back down the roadbed to his cruiser.

Chapter 3

Once back at the cruiser Sheriff Fielding quickly opened the door, slipped in, leaving the door open and his left leg out. He slipped off the nightstick and tossed it onto the passenger seat. Next, he took off his broad-brim hat and placed it on the passenger seat as well. He then removed his sunglasses and placed them into a cubbyhole, displaying his concerned brown eyes. He quickly looked back at the vehicle noting that nothing has changed. He reached for, and grabbed, his Slim Jim tool for unlocking car doors from outside the window and placed it on his lap. Next, he reached over, opened the glove box, and grabbed his digital camera. He quickly checked to make sure it had a memory card in it with room to spare. Good. He slipped it into his left jacket pocket and snapped the buttoned flap closed. Next, he reached for and grabbed his first aid kit out from under the passenger side car seat, placing it on his lap as well.

Next, he grabbed and unlatched the microphone. Nora? It’s Sheriff Fielding. looking back at the vehicle. After a few quick seconds ticked by he realized he did not get an immediate response. Nora? this time a little more firmly.

Yes Sheriff. I’m sorry. I was updating Bernie on another line.

Yeah? Where is he?

He’s over at McClure’s having some breakfast.

Good. I’m calling you to give you an update.

Yes sir. I’m ready.

I found one, a young male.

Oh good! genuinely pleased. Which one?

I don’t know yet. He’s got himself locked inside the vehicle and appears to be quite frightened. He won’t let me in.

Are you able to tell if he is hurt?

I can’t tell just yet, but have EMT on standby. And since I can’t get him to open the damn door I’m going to do it myself.

Roger that. Do you need backup?

Yeah. Tell Bernie to get his ass out here A-SAP. This kid has a camcorder and a laptop with him and he may have recorded something and I want another witness out here right away.

Anything else Sheriff?

Yeah. While he’s at it have Bernie bring me, and this kid, some breakfast, some bottled water, a few extra blankets, some dry thermal socks. I don’t think this kid had planned on staying out here all night and it looks like I’m going to be out here all morning myself. All he’s got on is a spring-jacket, some wet looking jeans and tennis shoes as far as I can tell.

Roger that. Anything else?

I’ll let you know.

Roger.

Over. Sheriff Fielding released the button on his mic and hung it back up. He leans back over, reaching into the glove box again, pulling out and putting on an official black ball-cap, with gold stitching. He then slapped the glove box shut. He checked to make sure he had his ‘Slim Jim’ tool, his camera, and his first aid kit before getting back out of the cruiser again; and then he got out. He used his right foot to close the door, which this time, shut with a solid slam. Again, he noticed the cool breeze of the morning air whirling about him. He took off trotting, going around the orange bar again, arriving back at the driver’s side of the vehicle in a quick couple of moments. Once there Sheriff Fielding placed the first aid kit on the ground beside the rear tire. He looked back through the window and saw that the kid was still lying, and shivering, right where he had left him.

Hey kid! yelled Sheriff Fielding, making it known he had returned.

Aaaaa! screamed the startled young man again, having not expected the black shadowy figure back so soon.

Settle down will ya. Now open the door. giving the kid another chance.

No! still being defiant.

Now, come on. trying to be a bit considerate of the kid’s situation and give him one last chance. Don’t make me unlock this door kid.

The young man continued to shiver and ignore the black shadowy figure that had called itself Sheriff but oddly relieved that it has returned. ‘Maybe he is what he says he is or maybe it’s another good spirit. But, if he’s a good spirit, then why doesn’t he just come in? Maybe he really is a Sheriff, an actual Sheriff which would mean that he is an actual person and not one of those evil spirits.’

While the young man contemplated his situation Sheriff Fielding had already begun slipping the Slim Jim tool between the rubber weather stripping of the vehicle’s driver’s side front door and the window. With a few simple back and forth moves and then one smooth upward thrust Sheriff Fielding unlocked the door.

Nooo! instantly balling up, closing his eyes tightly, at the sound of the door being unlocked.

Sheriff Fielding quickly wiggled out the ‘Slim Jim’ tool and tossed it onto the ground beside the first aid kit. He grabbed the driver’s door handle, pulled it up and opened the vehicle door.

Aaaaa! clasping and pulling himself as tightly as he possible could against the driver’s seat. Leave me alone! from shear fear, as the black shadowy figure was now letting itself into the vehicle.

Ignoring him Sheriff Fielding quickly searched for the master control panel, saw it and pushed the ‘Unlock All’ doors button on the panel. Nothing happened. This startled Sheriff Fielding for a second before realizing that the vehicle’s electrical system had been disabled and that’s one reason why this kid was still out here.

Nooo! Please! I don’t want to die!

Sheriff Fielding quickly looked, and reached around, locating the rear passenger door lock and manually unlocked it; all the while keeping an eye on the young man to make sure he didn’t make any sudden moves. The young man did nothing of the kind but continued to beg, in earnest, for his life.

Sheriff Fielding quickly pulled back and closed the front side driver’s door, took a quick step to the right and opened the driver’s side passenger door.

AAAAaaaa! screaming into the back of the driver’s seat. Stay the hell away from me! I don’t want to be taken!

Sheriff Fielding looked down and saw that the young man on the floorboard was having a panic attack and was hyperventilating as he tried to pull himself even tighter into the driver’s seat by grasping onto the springs underneath.

Whoa kid! Easy! Settle down! It’s all right! imploring to the young man as he quickly crouched down to get a better look. You’re safe now! It’s all right. Go easy on the breathing kid. looking him over with disbelief. Calm down or you’ll blow out a lung for Christ’s sakes.

The young man, still hyperventilating, realized that he hadn’t suddenly been dragged out of the vehicle and swept away began to, ever so carefully, ease his grip on the seat springs he was clutching.

Geez kid, are you all right? placing his left hand on the open door and the right one on the seat while looking over the young man whose breathing had begun to slow. Sheriff Fielding noticed that for a young man of eighteen, or nineteen, that he had an odd amount of white, or grayish, streaks in his hair. ‘How odd is that? But, then again, these kids today do odd things with their hair anyway.’ Easy on the breathing kid. noticing a bruise on the corner of the young man’s forehead. The young man’s breathing slowed. That’s it. Easy now. Just relax. That’s right. Everything’s all right now. You’re safe. O.K.? The breathing settled even more as the young man heard the Sheriff’s soothing, calm,