The Obituary Journal

By Lance Hale

Coda King is shrouded in death. It started with his mother committing suicide when he was a boy and continued when his wife was abducted on their wedding night. Now the rest of his days are spent trying to apprehend those that take life. He is a conflicted FBI agent with urgesurges he calls invitations to do bad things, invitations he has yet to accept. Now the body of an old friend has turned up. A friend Coda granted a favor. The only clue is a journal filled with obituaries. One alludes to his missing wife. Many others tie to cases Coda thought were closed. The journal could provide answers to catching a killer, but it could also compromise . . . everything. Coda can only hope his nightmares dont manifest into a reality where his moral compass is a slight nudge away from finally accepting an invitation to do bad things.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524582579

Lance Hale

Lance Hale lives in Upstate New York with his wife and three kids. He has been in radio for close to 30 years. This book is a passion project inspired by a teenage exploration that unearthed pages of random obituaries. The wheels started churning and The Obituary Journal was born.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Lance Hale.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2017901925

ISBN:      Hardcover     978-1-5245-8255-5

                Softcover      978-1-5245-8256-2

                eBook           978-1-5245-8257-9

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 is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 02/13/2017

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I would like to dedicate this book to my mother for inspiring creativity, my dad for being an anchor, my siblings for being there, my wife for providing the canvas and pushing me into writing this story and my kids for giving me the incentive to follow through.

Thanks to Jimi Bush for his contributions to the cover.

1

M Y BRAIN JUICES are getting sucked into some vortex, a flustered Coda King exclaims. Vaughan, you gotta trust the process. Ditch the doggie insecurities. You’ll be fine. Coda instructs his dog as he prepares to leave for the evening. Vaughan, a golden retriever, isn’t buying it. He’s moping on the floor, his head buried in his paws.

Are you the one in therapy? Coda sighs as he leans against the door. He decides to talk his loyal companion off the ledge. Plus there’s a guilt that has now jumped on board for the ride. It is full-on confession time.

Look, I’m neither a sociopath nor a psychopath. I’m no canine hater either. I’m not. I know you think I am. I see those sad little, eyes of accusation, he says with frustration.

Coda King is a Supervisory Special Agent with the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime in the F.B.I. He has been with this investigative branch for ten years.

Let’s talk, compadre, he offers, settling in. This is about a couple of beers, maybe a shot. I won’t abandon you. I will return, he promises. The dog looks less than convinced. He whines and rolls over, insinuating that he needs his belly rubbed.

Ok, this is going to take a minute, isn’t it? Is this a session? Is the Doctor in? Can we both get something out of this? Coda now feels the obligation of placating his dog. He also likens the thought of doing this in silence, to torture.

I’m gonna need a smoke. Coda pulls out a cigarette and lights it. He inhales deeply and rubs the palm of his hand against his left temple, then shakes his head. He stretches his eyes and inhales again.

Coda studies people, profiling killers for a living. He doesn’t enjoy diving inside the mind of a psychopath, but he does derive satisfaction in knowing he is quite good at what he does. What he is not good at, is connecting with his dog.

You can play shrink for a minute, right? I mean, better than Dr. Maida, anyway. She sucks the joy out of simple banter. There is no banter. It’s just the sound of her own voice. Not unlike right now with me, I suppose. He chuckles at the revelation, while referring to his therapist, who likes to dominate most of their sessions.

Ok, let’s delve into my unsettled psyche. Taste the pain, he offers before explaining. What comes out now is more for him than the dog.

Now, nothing I say can be used against me in a court of law. Well, because you’re a dog, he clarifies, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

"I’m pretty sure this ground has been covered, but here goes. You’re the only one in the circle of know. It’s you and me, right? I, have, killed two people. Just two. But I have wanted, to kill countless others. That’s because of my Invitations. They’re invitations to kill, or invitations to do bad things."

Of the two, one was kill or be killed. I would not be here. And the other, well, that was different. But neither was the end result of an invitation.

"An invitation is an urge requesting reaction. It’s like a carrot dangling over my head. It promises to be the most exquisite carrot I’ve ever had. It promises serenity. It promises a, God like nirvana. It taunts me. It prods me. You want to kill. Justification manifesting in my mind. It’s ok. You’re supposed to do this."

I’ve never acted on one. Not once. I’ve never accepted one. And with you, palzers, I’ve never had one. We’re tight. We’re good.

He likes to believe that buried deep inside everyone is the urge to kill. His belief is that the urges lie dormant in most. In a dream. Trying to morph into something more tangible.

These urges jockey for position. Attempting to take advantage of any little opening that would allow it to conquer the conscience. A Pied Piper in waiting.

Anyway, the good doctor got one thing right. She likes to quote movies, which I don’t get. She’s a psychiatrist, for fuck’s sake. She can prescribe meds. I don’t need those, by the way, he rambles.

"But I digress. There was one quote that worked for me. It was Anthony Hopkins, he was that serial killer, Hannibal the Cannibal. In the movie. But he nailed it. He said, We feel murderous things in our lives, and anyone who denies it is a liar. We’re taught as children to repress all that stuff. Don’t be jealous, don’t be greedy, don’t be angry. We bury the feelings alive, and they never die."

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is I’ve got to go. You’ll be fine. And with that, he gets up and starts for the door. But he pauses. Turns around.

I still think about her, you know. Coda is talking about his wife, Maggie. She went missing on their wedding night thirteen years earlier. I got you after she disappeared. You, me, her… we’re connected. I’ll always come back. And with that, he walks out the door.

It is Tuesday, November 11th, 1997.

2

J AMES WAS JUST waking up. He looked at the clock and realized it was six in the evening. He had slept through the entire day. Of course, it didn’t help matters any that he and his roommate, Trevor, didn’t get home until noon.

It had been a long weekend in Carbondale, two hours away, partying with new friends at the Hangar on Saturday. The band was fairly decent and it was fifty cent pitcher night. They ended up staying to party on Sunday and Monday at some fraternity on the campus of Southern Illinois University, where James was hoping to transfer the following year.

What wasn’t good is that he had missed two days of classes. He was already starting to fall behind in his studies this semester. Not exactly a good way to achieve a goal of moving on with the education.

James was tall and slender. He had short wavy, dirty blonde hair. It always looked as though he had just gotten out of bed, even though he spent a great deal of time, and gel, making it look that way.

He was unemployed, with the exception of the fifteen hours a week he was paid in work study at the college where he essentially did nothing. Yes, he was paid to do nothing. Unless you count daydreaming about being Police Chief Marge in Fargo, actually working. He was an only child, whose mother lived in Fairfield about forty five minutes away and worked as a waitress. His father left them when he was very young.

Trevor was from Princeton, Indiana, originally. He had moved to Mt. Carmel four years earlier to live with his then girlfriend, who ended up dumping him once she realized she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in this town. She bid her farewell, picked up and left. Destination unknown. He met James at a party shortly thereafter and they became fast friends.

Whereas James was more unkempt, Trevor was well groomed. He had a medium build, but kept in good shape. Trevor always dressed as if he were going to a party. He knew he had to work a little harder than most people to get where he was, so he wanted to look as though it came easy. His hair was perfect. It was short and brown. His teeth were perfect. The man brushed those perfect teeth five to six times a day.

He took a couple of sick days from work at the Marathon Gas Station, where he labored as a mechanic. He had accumulated enough cash so that he could still plan for their skiing trip to Paoli Peaks in December.

James was nineteen and a sophomore at Wabash Valley College in Mt. Carmel. Trevor was twenty three and they lived in a trailer park off Third Street. Not exactly a palace, but at $300 a month it was home.

It was time to get up and get ready if they wanted to be out the door by seven. They definitely didn’t want to miss anything. That was always the fear. Missing something.

Yo, bro, why does my head feel like a brick? James asked as he squinted, looking in the bathroom mirror.

I’m guessing it was the copious amount of alcohol consumed, my bruh-thah, Trevor replied, then gives James a look as if, you know this.

And we are drinking tonight because? James asks as if leading Trevor in some ridiculously predictable frat pledge.

"Hair of the dog, my friend. Hair of the dog. It is the breakfast of champions," Trevor states, in a matter of fact tone.

They finished getting ready in relative silence, with the exception of the radio supplying a backdrop of disposable pop music. They primped and bopped to the sound of some cheesy song about a Barbie Girl.

They were set to hit the streets and hopefully meet up with a couple of girls they liked, Amy and Rebecca. Both were seventeen and seniors at Mt. Carmel High School. They met over the summer at a party they threw.

It was always an adventure throwing a party in this town because the police always seemed to be onto any social gathering. You had to be stealth in the planning and execution.

For example, it was imperative that people knew where to park. The key was for everyone not to park at the residence where the party was being thrown. This was a surefire way to get the party shutdown as well as getting a good portion of the attendees rounded up and thrown in jail. There wasn’t a lot of crime here, so the police had to find someone to arrest.

The goal of this evening was easy. They were going to cruise a couple of laps, pull into the parking lot of Taco Tierra, get two jumbo Pepsis that they would later be able to mix with a bottle of Jim Beam and hit the outskirts of town exploring a few of the more rundown abandoned properties, which there were aplenty. And they were prepared in case they were lucky enough to run into the girls.

They knew that their beverage of choice was Purple Passion. It is a mixture of Everclear and purple punch. A bit on the weak side, but the ladies love it. They had a two liter bottle on ice in the trunk.

The plan was set. They were for the most part good to go, but they were also low on smokes. That meant a trip to Huck’s down the road before venturing out.

The tank was empty in James’ beater of a car, so they would end up taking Trevor’s Black 1988 Monte Carlo Super Sport. That was pretty much par for the course though. They really didn’t want to be seen in James’ babe repellent.

It was good they got away for a few days. Mt. Carmel wasn’t exactly built for someone with a night life.

Recreationally, there wasn’t really a lot for someone to do. If you were over twenty one, the bar scene didn’t have a lot to offer. There were three places to get a drink, not including the American Legion, VFW and Moose Lodge.

There were no restaurants, outside of fast food, open past seven o’clock. Even the local movie theater had been closed for years.

Venturing out of the house with an agenda of doing something fun, required patience and gas. The closest town not categorized as small was Evansville, Indiana. And that was a forty minute trek.

If you were younger it was even worse. You cruised in your car up and down Main Street. You’d look for the guy over twenty one hovering about and pay him to hit the liquor store for you. James and Trevor had cornered the market on this business. There were three bars, but four liquor stores.

They would find a few desperate teenagers. Actually, teenagers would find them. And in return for the purchase, the under aged buyers would pony up a little extra. Enough to pay for a bottle of something for James and Trevor. Frequent visits helped to stock their liquor cabinet.

The fridge and cupboard back home were pretty bare, but that liquor cabinet was set for any occasion. As a matter of fact, they were so set in the liquor department, that on Sundays, when bars and liquor stores were closed, people would cruise by their trailer to buy alcohol from their stash at a marked up price. It was a pretty good scam if you think about it.

That’s the social life of a Mt. Carmelite in a nutshell. That’s also why the population is shrinking.

Fortunately for James and Trevor, they didn’t really worry themselves over any of these trivial matters. They knew the limitations of their surroundings, but they never let it stand in the way of enjoying themselves. Tonight was no exception.

The time was closing in on eight o’clock and a bit on the chilly side. There was also a light fog out. It was a fall night and the leaves canvassed the ground in a hodgepodge of colors. There hadn’t been rain in a few days and you could still smell the burning leaves in the crisp cold air. For the time of year, the weather couldn’t have been more flawless.

They pulled into Hucks for cigarettes and noticed that their friend Roach was inside playing the video game Galaga. This could pose a bit of a problem. Roach was a bit of a tag along and they worried he might throw a wrench into the evening.

That’s essentially because Amy and Rebecca were a duo, not a trio. But also because as you might expect from someone with the nickname of Roach, he’s not what you would call blessed in the social graces department.

Roach, or Samuel, as his mother calls him, is a twenty year old high school dropout. He’s currently employed as a bagger at the IGA grocery store on Walnut Street. He got off at seven and had made his way to Huck’s where he’s been ever since burying quarter after quarter into the slot of the arcade game positioned in front of him.

And if you thought that James was disheveled, you had never seen Roach. The boy was a poster child for how not to present yourself. He had longer somewhat tangled black hair. He was a little shorter and didn’t exactly take care of himself. So he was carrying around a little extra baggage on the midsection. And the way he dressed, if you didn’t know any better, you would swear he was a homeless person. He had actually been confused of being homeless on more than a few occasions. He appeared to revel in this fact.

Roach wasn’t what you’d call a strong friend of the two. He wasn’t part of the inner circle, but he was at least someone they’ve hung out with in the past.

Put another way, he had a knack for doing extraordinarily dumb stunts that would make those around him chuckle. Not a from the gut laugh, but a chuckle. One, where inside you’re going, I can’t believe I’m in the presence of such a complete moron.

He had that kind of effect on people. I guess you could say he grew on you. Like a fungus.

James got out of the car and knew he couldn’t just blow by Roach without at least giving him some sort of acknowledgement. He walked in and saw Roach to his right. He could see he was in the middle of a game, so he gave a quick, Hey Roach, what’s up?

James, bro. How’s it hanging? Aw fuck! He said as his last ship was destroyed and another quarter was parted with forever. He pounded his right hand on the machine and spun around in James’ direction. What’s on the agenda for this evening? You could tell that there was a sound of enthusiastic relief in Roach’s voice. It was like his night had been saved. This didn’t bode well for the boys.

Oh, nothing man. Just cruising to see what’s up. He shifts his focus to the guy behind the counter. I’ll have a carton of Marlboro 100s, box.

Can I see some ID? The attendant asks.

Yeah, James says as he reaches for his wallet and hands over his ID. Shifting his focus back to Roach. What’s up with you?

Just got off work. Is it cool if I tag along? I really got nothing for tonight. Not ready to go home.

Yeah, sure, I mean, I guess so, James replies, knowing that the evening has suddenly taken a turn into familiar, yet unwelcome territory.

What, you don’t want me to come? Roach asks in a defensive manner, sensing that something was a little off with James’ answer. That’s cool, bro. I know when I’m being blown off.

No, seriously, it’s cool. We’re just cruising. You can hang, James backtracks. He now realizes they’ve reached the point of no return. Roach is on hand as the human leach. They couldn’t get rid of him if they tried.

"Sweet, can I bum a smoke?

Sure, he says as he pays for and opens the carton, Roach snatches the first pack. You outta quarters?

Yeah, man. Thanks. I’ll pay you back later.

No you won’t.

For real. I get paid on the 15th. I’ll take care of you then.

They make their way out the door and Trevor shakes his head in disgust from the car as he sees Roach open the door and climb in the back seat. Roach, he greets in a weary tone.

Tray-vah, what’s up bruddah?

Nada. Let’s go, he says as James settle in, shotgun.

Trevor fires up the engine and off they go. The stereo is blaring in the background…

‘I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want’

What in, fucks sake are you girls listening to? What is that? Rick Astley or some shit? Roach asks, with a look confusion on his face. "Tell me what you, blah, blah, fuck this. What I want? What I want? I want this shit to stop making my ears bleed, that’s what I want."

Dude, it’s WSTO. Whatever they’re playing. Why, you got something better? James defends. Not liking that their choice in music is being attacked. They hadn’t even planned on Roach joining the fray for this evening.

As a matter fact, gentle lads, throw this shit in, he says with a grin on his face as he hands over a cassette tape.

What is it? Trevor asks, a bit put off by Roach’s rude remarks as well.

"D.R.I., Dealing With It, bitches, classic. James puts the cassette in and it starts thrashing away. Yeah, Roach says, as he bangs his head up and down. Turn it up."

Trevor pops out the cassette and hands it back to Roach. Roach has crashed from elation to devastation in one quick moment.

I don’t think so, Trevor says.

Fuck a duck, Roach says.

They pull out of Huck’s and make a right toward Main Street. Time to see who’s out and about. All the while trying to figure out how to handle the third wheel that is now Roach.

As they make that left turn onto Main Street, they see the roads are empty. Not a car in sight. It’s still early, but things aren’t looking overly promising at this point.

They reach Fourth Street and look down the road to the left. It’s the Ivalu’s parking lot on the left and then parking in front of the St. Mary’s School to the right. This is where you would find the most people congregating on any given night and you could get a pretty good indicator as to what kind of night it would be based on the amount of people present. There were none.

Man, this sucks ass, boys, Roach wails. What to do… what to do? Seriously, what’s the plan?

To be perfectly honest, Roach, the plan is to meet up with a couple of chicks and go exploring, Trevor answers hoping that what was said might strike a chord. He was hoping Roach would take a hint and bow out for the evening. He wasn’t hanging his hopes on that thought though.

Cool, let’s make it three girls, he replied and grinned ear to ear, oblivious to what was meant. James and Trevor both roll their eyes.

They pulled into Taco Tierra a few blocks away and hopped out of the car. Inside, they ordered three jumbo Pepsis.

You payin’ for this Roach? James jokingly asks.

Come on James! Not cool, he pleads. You got this, right?

Yeah, I got this, James says while sighing at the same time.

Roach just nods in childish approval. They walk out the door and back to the car where a bottle of Jim Beam waits to mix with those Jumbo Pepsis.

As they get to the car, up rolls a black Ford Escort GT. It’s the girls they were hoping to run into, Amy and Rebecca. Amy was an outgoing personable young lady. She was a tiny brunette whose dad was a County Judge. Her mom sold real estate. Rebecca was more shy and reserved. She was a tall lanky blonde whose parents both worked at the Power Plant.

They slowed to a stop during which Roach, who is standing in front of the car, fakes as though he’s just been hit and jumps on, just to fall off the hood. You could hear the hood pop in then pop back out.

Manners dude, Trevor barks.

What? It’s just a joke, man. No harm. No harm, he defends. Both Trevor and James look at each other in disgust as they grasp the fact that Roach misses the boat on what he’s trying to say.

You’re such an idiot sometimes. Do you even have a solid comprehension of the English language? Trevor blurts as he feels himself become agitated, knowing that Roach is not going to leave them alone.

Trevor and James have discussed at length how much they like and would like to get to know better these two girls. James has had a thing for Amy and they seem to be developing feelings for one another since they met a few months ago. Trevor and Rebecca are still in the feeling each other out stage. Neither one has been willing to make the first move.

James then tries to defer attention away from Roach’s actions. What’s the story ladies? What are you two up to tonight?

We were just driving around and seeing that there was ‘nothing’ going on, until we saw you’re car. So we decided to pull in and find out what you guys were up to, Amy says. She’s driving and Rebecca is sitting in the passenger’s seat.

Well, truth be told, we were hoping to run into the two of you this evening, Trevor chimes in, while borderline staring at Rebecca.

Oh really, Rebecca says with a glowing look of satisfaction on her face. And why would that be?

We wanted to go off on an adventure and check out some of the forgotten landmarks of Southeastern Illinois. We were hoping you would accompany us, Trevor admits in a rather confident rap that seemed rather rehearsed. The whole while this conversation is unfolding, Roach has a rather perplexed look on his face because he wasn’t in on any of this.

And what landmarks of any kind are there in Southeastern Illinois boys? Rebecca inquires.

Yeah, boys… what kind of landmarks are we talkin’ ’bout here? Roach asks, not wanting to feel left out of the equation. Even though all parties involved are internally trying to figure out how they might be able to rid themselves of the Roachman.

Ignoring Roach the best they can, James replies, why don’t you park your ride and jump in with us? We’ll show you what we’re talking about.

The girls look at each other and grin. Count us in, Amy says.

They pull into a parking spot and Trevor pulls Roach aside and lays out the not so subtle hint. Roach, there’s a bit of a numbers mismatch here. Do you mind?

Hells no. You can’t ditch me that easy. I’m going with you guys. Plus, I’m anxious to see how all of this plays out. And don’t worry. I won’t interfere with any game you might be trying to throw down. Everything is cool, Roach assures.

Everything is not cool, Trevor says under his breath as the girls turn off their car and make their way toward the Monte Carlo. Right this way, he rebounds as if nothing in the world is bothering him, opening the door in a semi-gentlemanly manor.

The girls oblige and climb in the back seat. James jumps at the chance to joins them. Roach grabs shotgun and Trevor gets in the driver’s seat.

He turns the ignition and fires up the engine. Before they knew it, they were on their way out of the Taco Tierra parking lot. Out along Main Street and then back down third street past their trailer and headed out of town.

They passed an apartment complex that laid claim to predominately Section 8 families. After that was an empty building that used to be the Save-A-Lot grocery store. Next, was the Town and Country Motel. Followed by lot filled with school buses.

That was really the last bit of civilization. From here on, it was the occasional house, surrounded by a bunch of trees on open land. You could unquestionably, see more oil pumps then houses at this point.

Once they were out of town, they pulled off to the side of the road. Trevor asks, Would you ladies like a tasty beverage? They made their way past the overpass and hugged up to the side of the railroad tracks, just out of sight of what had now turned into Highway One.

Absolutely. What’s on the menu? asks Rebecca, who’s normally slightly on the reserved side, is now feeling flirty.

Trevor makes his way around to the trunk, while the car is still running. He opens the trunk and gets into the cooler. Well, let’s see, he says as he arches back and cocks his head to the left like he’s trying to see what he has on stock. We have Purple Passion… and, uh, Purple Passion, or of course… Purple Passion. There’s also JB. What’s it going to be?

I guess, Purple Passion, Amy answers in a playful tone.

Rebecca smiles, Yeah, me too.

Trevor grabs a couple of large plastic cups from a stack he has in a bag next to the cooler and pours two tall glasses of Purple Passion. He then brings out the bottle of Jim Beam, which is half full. He gets back in the car and hands the cups to the girls.

Here you go, he says as he starts to pour a healthy portion of liquor into his jumbo cup. He then passes the bottle off to Roach, who starts dispensing into his glass while drinking some of the Pepsi. He does this so as to leave even more room for Jim Beam.

There’s a science to this. The only way to know for sure as to when the balance is right is to drink while you pour, Roach says as he finds the right mix, then passes the bottle to James. The rest of the car gives him the you’re out of your mind face squint and shrug.

James takes the bottle and fills his glass as well. To me, it sounds like a pretty good excuse to drink more free booze, he suggests. James then sets the bottle in the floorboard of the backseat. Trevor puts the car in drive and they are back on the road.

Whatever, anybody up for a hit of some free weed? Roach asks as he pulls a joint from his front right jeans pocket. He then lights and takes a long drag. He holds it up to see if anyone else is interested.

Give that to me, Trevor says and he rips the joint out of Roach’s hand. He takes a short hit, coughs a touch, puts the back of his hand over his mouth and nose, then takes another short hit. He holds it for a moment while trying to keep his focus on the road and lets out a long deep exhale. It feels good.

Hey, no bogarting. Pass that bitch around, Roach lets out emphatically as Trevor rolls his eyes and hands it to the backseat, where Amy takes it from him and inhales.

Amy hands it off to James. He sucks in a deep long breath and holds it… savors it….breathes out. James hands to Rebecca, who has never tried Marijuana before. She takes it and looks at it. She studies it. Trevor looks in the rear view mirror and sees Rebecca struggling with what to do next.

His initial thought is to tell her she doesn’t have to take a hit if she doesn’t feel comfortable doing it. Unfortunately, his comfort level with that statement isn’t quite there yet.

You just suck it in and hold it as long as you can. Then breathe it out, Trevor explains in a louder, yet calm voice, trying to help Rebecca understand. Rebecca then does as Trevor says, but the smoke doesn’t hold well. So she ends up coughing really hard.

That’s one way of doing it, Roach says as he takes the joint from Rebecca’s hand so that he can enjoy another toke himself.

You ok? Trevor asks.

Rebecca nods as she holds her hand over her mouth continuing to cough. I’m ok, she assures him then takes a sip from her cup of Purple Passion.

They continue to smoke and drink and joke, when Roach chimes in. This reminds of the time when I first got fucked up. I was like twelve years old. My cousin had snagged on his step-dad’s pot and a pipe and brought it down to my house where we snuck out and rode our bikes down to the levy.

Sounds like bullshit, James challenges.

No bullshit, Roach defends. We rode down to the levy and took a few hits each. We had no idea what we were doing, so we were coughing a lot like ‘Becca. Our heads were feeling all funny and shit… and we thought we heard something down at one of the camps out closer to the river. It was a Saturday night so we figured it was some people partying. But we were feeling brave so we embark on a journey toward the sounds.

He takes another hit of the joint and continues in a pinched voice trying to hold the smoke in, We get closer to the camp where the noise is coming from and everything is dark. The voices are muffled.

He exhales. Everyone in the car has his full attention.

Ok, continue, Trevor requests.

So we get closer to the camp and we can’t see nothing. We’re fighting through some bushes trying not to make any noise ourselves. It’s hot, and sticky. We get to the edge of this camp and we see what looks like three figures right up on the river. Two of them seem to be fighting with the third who starts coming into view a little better as our eyes start adjusting to the dark. The third person looks like they’re tied up or something. There’s a gag in the mouth. It’s some chick. She’s struggling to get free from these two guys who ain’t saying nothin’. They were all a little older, thirties, maybe forties.

Trevor has slowed the car down a little because he wants to hear the finish of the story before they reach their destination and he knows that they’re getting close. No one notices because they are all locked into Roach’s voice as he vividly tells his tale.

He continues, "Her head is shaking around. She’s not into this at all. She’s trying to kick her legs at these two guys to get free. Nothin’ is working. These guys are getting closer to having a bit more of a grip on her. Then her eyes lock with mine. My heart felt like it skipped about four beats. I slipped a little because my head was all woozy and I was starting to really feel scared. This was some crazy shit we were watching. I wasn’t even sure if it was real or not. That is until she locked those eyes on me. Then I knew it was real. I saw that fear. That was more real than any fear I ever seen in a Halloween or Friday the 13th movie. I felt her fear."

So what did you do? What happened to the girl? Rebecca asks.

They threw her in the river. The girls gasp in horror after what they just heard. They just threw her in the river and then they got in their car and left. My cousin and I waited until we were pretty sure they were gone then we went down to where we saw them throw her in, but we never saw her again. She was gone.

Oh, my God, says Amy. That is horrible.

When did this happen? Trevor asks with some reservations in his voice. This was like eight years ago? How come this is the first you’re talking about it? Why have we never heard about some missing woman or someone floating in the river? I’ll tell you why. Shit like that doesn’t happen around here. I’m not sure there’s ever been a homicide in Mt. Carmel.

It was like eight years ago and I never said nothing because this isn’t the kind of story you just tell. And I don’t know why nothing was ever said about it. I guess they never found the body. I mean, damn man, we were stoned and we saw someone get killed. We didn’t tell the cops. We didn’t tell no one. This is the first I’ve told anyone. Hell, my cousin and I have never talked about it since.

I believe him, Amy says while looking from James to Trevor in a manner that was pleading them to believe as well.

Me too, Rebecca follows.

Not me, James says as he starts smiling and shaking his head. You are so full of shit Roach. There’s no realistic way you’re keeping a secret like that for eight years. And then now… night of all nights… you decide to share this monumental life altering child scarring fairy tale.

He’s right dude. Major bullshit, Trevor agrees. The girls are shaking their heads and looking back and forth between all the boys.

Roach starts to smile. I had you going though, he concedes.

Rebecca, who’s right behind Roach nails him in the back of the head with an open fist. You are a complete asshole. I can’t believe that was a lie. I really don’t like you.

Amy can’t believe what has just transpired. But it sounded so real. You made it sound so real. You’ve rehearsed that farce, you piece of shit. She says as her voice was raising throughout that statement. She reaches over the seat and belts Roach as well.

Ouch! Ok, ok. Maybe I deserved that. But man did I have you all going. Fucking priceless, people. Priceless. Roach laughs a little and grabs the back of his head where he has now been hit twice.

It’s at this moment that James speaks up. This is it, I think. Take a right up here.

Gotcha, Trevor says as he slows the car down and turns right onto a long dark dirt driveway, which leads up to a two story dark lit house. It’s back off the road a ways and follows a bit to the right and then up a small incline. The patchy fog gives the driveway a kind of swampy feel.

The white house is faded, showing the wear of many years of neglect. The brush, though dead, has grown enough to cover everything. It is over the walls and the windows and the steps leading up to the house. It’s almost as if the house is trying to hide itself. If not for the time of year, and fallen leaves, you would not have been able to spot it from the road.

The windows that are visible, all look broken. The driveway has a tree limb blocking it, a good twenty feet from the house. There are no street lights. There are no lights leading up to the house. There are no lights in the house that you can see. There is nothing around. Just an open field that seems to go on forever.

All you see are the sporadic oil pumps throughout. The only light is that of the half moon and the stars. It was an ominous glow illuminating the night. Seemed like a good night to be searching eerie old houses.

They stopped the car just short of the fallen tree limb. They one by one pile out the car. It is pitch black and the girls are feeling a little less sure about this venture, especially after the story that had just been spun.

I’m not so sure about this, says Amy as she huddles closer to her friend Rebecca.

James slides up behind her and puts his arm around her shoulder. There’s nothing to be afraid of. This house has, obviously been empty for a long time, he says as she grips him tight. He smiles as he feels things going almost exactly as he had planned it in his head.

Don’t worry ladies. We come prepared for situations exactly like this. The key is to anticipate that when you are expecting to delve into the unknown on dark spooky nights, like tonight. You make sure that you have in your possession the power of light, James declares as he makes his way to the trunk and reaches behind the cooler for a flashlight. Brand new batteries too. He revels in the moment as he turns the flashlight on. Voila, we’re ready to explore. I only wish there was a river we could throw Roach in.

Everyone except for Roach laughs at this offering. Yeah, that sounds like a fair sentence, Amy agrees.

Let’s go in this place already. I’m losing my buzz, pleads Roach, oblivious to the boy girl interaction taking place around him and ignoring the jabs being thrown in his direction.

"I wish we could lose you," Amy says under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to know that she had made a smart ass comment.

What was that? Roach asks. You can tell he’s starting to get a little upset. I know that wasn’t another comment about me.

Shut up already. Stop being such a jackass, James implores as they make their way up to the front door, which is slightly ajar. You brought this on yourself when you decided you wanted to share your little illusion.

Can we please move on from this, Rebecca begs.

Amy trips over what appears to be an old Cabbage Patch Doll. It’s tattered with holes where the eyes should be. One of the legs was missing and it had no hair either. I am so not liking this place, she says as she clings to Rebecca. Starting to feel a little terrified, she adds, I mean, look. This doll has been fucked with. Who punches the eyes out of a doll?

Maybe we should just get out of here. We’re not feeling this house at all guys, Rebecca states. I’m not sure we’re feeling tonight anymore.

Maybe we should just get out here, Roach mumbles mockingly.

James turns to Roach, looking completely agitated, Would you please… shut… the fuck… up? What are you really hoping to accomplish by aggravating the situation? Do you know? Do you ever know? You spew off at the mouth with your verbal masturbation and there’s no real thought being put into the words that come out. It’s like bleh.

Verbal masturbation? Trevor questions. With that, everyone laughs and the mood is mercifully lightened.

You like that, huh? You would, you freak. James retorts. And you, you fuck, he adds, in turning his attention back to Roach. He makes a kicking motion in his direction. Roach just laughs and they move on.

The group reached the door and as they peered inside, their eyes start to adjust a bit to the darkness. They could make out what seemed to be absolute disarray. Whoever had lived here last, and we’re talking quite a few years ago, must have left in a hurry. It looked as though, despite the fact people no longer lived there, they had never moved out. That added yet another creepy shadow over the house.

Roach pushed on the door, which creaked open slowly in a predictable manor. They all walked inside, but were having difficulty finding the perfect footing because of all of the junk on the floor. They were holding onto each other in a way, where if one went down, they would all go down like dominoes. There was also a smell that at first crept, but then attacked their senses upon entering this disaster area.

What in the hell is that smell? Amy asks as she is forced to cover her mouth and nose with her right arm.

Yeah, wow. A bit on the musty side, adds James.

It makes my stomach turn, says Rebecca,

No, seriously, people. What the fuck died in here? Roach puts out there as even he is stifling back the urge to throw up.

Yeah, James. Not musty. Something did die. Must have been some animal found its way in here and not made its way out, Trevor offers.

This is too much. It’s like straight out of the movies, James says.

Check this out, Roach excitedly spits out. This place has been empty for years, right?

Yeah, so… James respond, not sure where exactly Roach is taking this thing.

I mean this is Wabash County, southeastern, fucking, Illinois,

What are you getting at? Asks Trevor, getting irritated.

So nothing has ever happened in this place. Which makes it the perfect place for some killer to find some empty abandoned house, like this, go out and make his kills, and them bring them back here for a convenient stashing. It would sure explain the smell.

Your story is convenient for offering a scare and way off base dip shit. Some animal died in here. Simple as that. You have an active imagination, Trevor explains.

Whatever, Roach says as he shrugs off Trevor’s criticism.

Whatever it is, is awful and I think we should leave, Amy pleads.

I second that, Rebecca offers in support.

Listen, we’re here. I think the worst of it is behind us with the exception of finding the animal that’s eliciting this odor. Let’s check things out real quick and then exit the premises just as quickly. It can’t hurt anything, Trevor says in hoping to bring some logic to the conversation.

How the hell did you guys think to come to this house? Roach probes, while shifting the subject slightly. He was being serious for the first time tonight. I mean, for real. It’s like you guys showed up here ahead of time to plant all this shit and give it more of an authentic spookiness. Hell, in all my deviousness, I couldn’t have even dreamed a more surreal setting.

That’s about the most intelligent thing I think I’ve ever heard you say. It’s inaccurate, but at least a well-articulated question, James praises as he gives a fake little chuckle. Roach shoots a disapproving look in James’ direction.

He does have a point guys, Rebecca chimes in. I mean this place is almost too perfect in its strangeness. How did you guys find this house? There was partial desperation in the way she asked. It’s like she was hoping to not get an answer of impropriety, but sort of bracing for a response of ok, you got us like what had happened earlier with Roach.

I don’t know, Trevor answers solemnly. We’ve driven by this place a few times and thought it would be cool to check out at some point. We’ve never actually pulled in, but we’d also never seen anybody here. We figured the place was empty.

Yeah, well, let’s see what they left behind then. Might as well give it a go. I mean we’re here, right, Roach coaxes as he shoots an I got your back look in Trevor’s direction.

Fine. Let’s go and get this over with, Amy says in reluctant acceptance of the situation.

They walk in and make their way through the first room, and Trevor shines the flashlight around looking at all of the junk on the floor. It’s mostly old clothes along with a bunch of papers and shards of broken glass.

You also see picture frames, toys, empty beer cans and bottles. They’re mixed in with other assorted junk that couldn’t even be made out. The walls were dilapidated as well. There had been wallpaper all over, but it was now ripped to shreds.

There was somewhat of a chaotic order to it all. As their eyes made their way through the mess they could feel some sort of ominous presence overseeing the nights activities. It was almost as if everything was laid out to imperfection. For them to see. On this very night. At this very time.

The odor was also getting stronger and everyone was gagging. They were trying to keep the smell in check by holding their breath as much as possible. And then breathing through their clothing in hopes of diluting the scent.

Trevor shines the flashlight to the left in the kitchen, where you see dirty dishes left in the sink. On the floor are cereal boxes and shattered dishes. It’s more of the same. They could also start to get the sense that maybe they weren’t the first people to visit this house post exodus of the previous residents.

This place is a disaster area, Trevor proclaims. It’s bizarre to me that someone would bail on a place and just leave it in this kind of condition.

It looks like a frikkin’ tornado tore through this joint. Nuckin’ futs! Roach interjects.

Yeah, well, I don’t like it at all. Let’s see what you boys need to see and leave, please, Amy pleads trying to light a fire under their asses, in sensing the urgency to not stay here any longer than need be.

Boys? There are no boys here, Roach belts out almost in song.

Maybe we can get out of here a little faster if we split up, James suggests. Detecting that Amy is not in the most happy of states right now and is thinking that maybe getting away from the rest of the pack might help in lifting her spirits even if it is just a little bit.

Of course, his adolescent hormones are also kicking in and the thought is crossing his mind that this might be a prime opportunity to get a little alone time with Amy. And maybe, just maybe, get the nerve to follow through on a first kiss. Though he has a long way to go to get to that point.

Sounds good. How about Rebecca and I cruise upstairs, Trevor proposes. James and Amy, basement. And, um, as for Roach?

In the back of his mind he’s guessing Roach will find the basement a more interesting quest. Selfishly detaching him from the hip. He was also thinking, and it was a long shot, that maybe Roach would prefer not being a third wheel to either party and explore by himself.

Of course, all of those hopes are shot down in one quick illustration. I’m upstairs, Roach blurts.

Well, I guess you had to go somewhere, huh, Trevor says, trying to convince himself he was ok with not being able to shake his shadow. Unfortunately, kids, only one flashlight. You’re on your own in that department. You cool?

We’ll be good, I think, James says. His eyes drift in Amy’s direction knowing she has been more than a little uneasy about the situation. And now, having no light might actually exasperate the circumstances.

Yeah, we’re good, Amy offers, yet with hesitation. She matches eyes with James as if to show she is putting her trust in him to make it alright. She is frightened, but she really likes James and thinks of him as her protector.

Ok, then, we’re off, Trevor asserts with the shrug of a shoulder.

Roach then leads the way toward the stairs, which are sticky and covered in dust. He then proceeds to take the first step. He pauses before having his foot touch down and makes a noise as if he’s turning on some airplane intercom. Please watch your step. Because you may find out that there is no step.

The first step actually had a board missing so there was technically no first step. He then composes an exaggerated gesture in lifting his foot up to skip the first step.

You’re such a ham, Rebecca observes trying to remove herself from the slight fear and nauseating smell she is enveloped in.

I believe you may be onto something, he replies.

Alright, we’ll catch you guys in a bit, Trevor says to James and Amy. I’m sure we won’t be too long.

They next continue their journey up the stairs watching their step the entire way considering there was the distinct possibility of falling a long way down. Roach has a bit of fun skipping along the way, during which Trevor and Rebecca are considerably less cavalier. The smell seems to be getting stronger the further they go.

Looks like the dead beast will be found on our watch, Trevor observes.

Lucky us, Rebecca says, the words dripping in sarcasm.

Meanwhile James and Amy are moving even slower toward their destination down to the basement. It is extremely quiet except for the sound of their friends’ footsteps above them.

Thanks to the moonlight they see a door up and around to the right that looks like it might lead somewhere. James is feeling anxious about getting alone time with Amy.

On one hand he’s trying to figure the angle that might lead him to their first kiss and on the other hand he’s thinking that it might be a hard sell because Amy is, to some degree, less than thrilled about the circumstances that they find themselves in.

And the flip side? Amy is feeling torn. She really wants to