he started at the ceiling and squinted as if blinded by a bright light; his voice raspy as he cleared his throat before he continued, “Something has happened. I’m not sure if you guys still want to leave tonight or..."
“Well, what in the world happened, sheriff? Talk to us, give us the full story. What happened to Mike?,” Pete interrupted him.
The sheriff put his hat back on, making sure it was perfectly in place, took a deep breath and said matter-of-factly:
“Someone murdered your boss man. We found his body about five miles down the road about an hour ago. After we phoned the office we found out that he was en route to you meet you guys here. By the way, how long have you been here?"
“They’ve been here for more than two hours,” Lora’s voice rang out from the kitchen and she came back into the dining room.
“By God, sheriff, that’s awful,” she cried.
“What happened to him?”
Beams of light danced in the night time air. A generator was started up and buzzed. An instant later, giant floodlights lit up the scene of the crime. The police officers turned off their flashlights. Red-white striped barricades blocked the road in both directions. More police officers were posted in front of them to turn away any arriving vehicles.
A few minutes earlier, crime scene investigation specialists had arrived from New Bismarck. In white overalls they were now turning the scene surrounding the victim’s vehicle, which had halfway gotten stuck in a ravine, into a beehive of activity. Ben and Julie Johansson sat on the steps of the ambulance. The flickering blue light cast across the area by the police cars could not conceal their pale faces. A paramedic was trying to calm them down as he talked to them, but they appeared to be unable to take their eyes off the edge of the forest, upon which they were fixated.
CHAPTER 8
Hanky lay in his own bed and stared at the ceiling. Doctor Ness had brought him home in his car and had helped his parents put him to bed. Everybody was concerned about him and his mother had spent a long time sitting by his bedside, stroking his hand. She still saw Hanky as the small boy with big eyes who appeared to be lost in daydreams and never seemed to be completely present. She had never had enough money to take the boy to a real specialist and have him examined. In all the years she had spent raising him he had not changed, except physically. Now he just looked like a man. The only one who could make Hanky laugh out loud was his grandfather and the boy adored the old man. Hanky visited grandpa almost every day and listened to the same old stories in amazement.
After a while, his mother had gotten up and had quietly returned the chair to its place by the window. She’d tiptoed to the door, turned off the light and closed it. Hanky was glad that his mother had finally left, although he had enjoyed her presence immensely.
He would have loved to have a real conversation with her like never before - but he knew that he would have to pretend that he was the same “old" Hanky for a while. At daybreak he would definitely go over to grandpa’s house right away to tell him about his big change. Grandfather would certainly know what to do and would have some advice for his pursuit of the evil thing. His grandfather would stand by him and would not reveal his secret to anyone.
About sixty miles down the road, Walt Kessler’s car was now parked in a small lot alongside the country road. The thing sat in the vehicle and surveyed the fields and meadows through Walt’s eyes. The morning fog rose above the ground like an ocean made of cotton fibers. The sky was turning just a little red, while the bluish black of the night still prevailed. The thing did not take notice of any of that. It tried hard to get comfortable. It was satiated and as a rule, if it had had its fill, the creature felt pretty good. Not today. Everything was completely different, incomprehensible and new.
During the night the creature had hunted down a victim successfully and had sucked every ounce of energy out of it. It had been any easy feat - just like always. Except this time, killing the victim had not been any fun at all. Driven by fury caused by its discomfort, the thing had dismembered its victim in the worst possible way, even as the man lay dead next to his car. Even that had not given the creature any pleasure, especially since it had been interrupted by the arrival of another vehicle on the scene. Under normal circumstances, it would have done away with the trouble makers as well, but a sense of panic had overwhelmed this desire and driven it into flight. It was convinced that the people in the car - two of them - would recognize Walt’s car. Now it was too late. It would have to sever ties with its host body. A new host body would have to be found without the creature getting caught. Using the thinking patterns of its prisoner, the thing searched for a new opportunity. A city - a busy place where many people bustled about -that would be the perfect venue.
CHAPTER 9
Just minutes after sunrise, Hanky got up. He had not gotten any sleep during the night, but he felt refreshed and rested all the same. He dressed in his usual gear and looked at himself in the mirror. What he saw did not please him one bit. He looked like a man in a child’s costume. For now it would have to do - at least until he had made it out of his home village. He could no longer even fathom how he could have walked around in these ridiculous outfits. As soon as he would arrive in the next town, he would change his appearance. The way he looked now he would stick out like a sore thumb. They’d track him down immediately. They - in other words his parents, the police and possibly the newspapers - would certainly be looking for him everywhere. They’d be searching for a handicapped young man who could not manage alone.
Nonetheless, he could take care of that later. For now he was dressed appropriately. On the small shelf where he kept his “treasures” he also stored an old cigar box. He pulled it out and opened it. His entire savings were in the box. It wasn’t much. But he had helped farmers every now and then when they were unloading hay and had done other jobs that a simpleton could do. They’d always given him a little pocket change. He had never needed money before, so he had saved it up in the cigar box.
Hanky emptied the contents of the box out onto the coverlet of his bed and began to count the money. He suddenly knew how to do it. It was fun. Forty five dollars and seventy two cents. Satisfied and smiling, he stuffed his cash assets into the pockets of his pants. Next, he got down on his knees to find his backpack, which had been stowed under the bed. It didn’t take him long to locate it. He pulled it out and walked over to his dresser. He packed underwear, socks and a heavier sweater for cold nights. In the bathroom he found a bar of soap and his toothbrush and placed both into the backpack as well. He spotted the comb on the sink. He’d never even used the comb, although his mother kept nagging him to comb his hair once in a while. Shrugging off the memory, he packed the comb also. He took another look around the room and left. Quiet as a mouse he tiptoed down the stairs. From his parents’ bedroom came the sound of his father’s snoring. Luckily, his parents were still asleep. Once they got up they would not even miss Hanky, because it was common practice for him to go over to his grandfather’s house early in the mornings on most days. In the kitchen, he picked up to apples, a piece of sausage and half a slice of bread and stuffed the snacks into the backpack. He escaped into the great outdoors through the backdoor and realized suddenly that he was leaving his childhood behind at this precise moment. The feeling of having lost something truly precious was about to overwhelm him. Hanky stood still for an instant, his shoulders bent in sorrow, in his parents’ garden. Then he straightened himself up much in the manner of a soldier who is exuding courage and pushed the painful thoughts aside with great determination.
Initially he had thought it might be a good idea to bring his bicycle, but then he decided against it. The bike was way too colorful and anyone who paid attention at all would have remembered it. First he’d simply walk and once he’d made some progress, he’d decide what to do next.
The engine had suddenly stopped. First it had begun to stutter a bit until it finally gave up completely and all it heard was a loud “BLOM” sound. The creature looked around helplessly and searched its victim’s memories for any indication that would allow it to determine what was wrong with the Honda. Sometime later it dawned on the creature that the vehicle had probably run out of fuel. Now what? First, it would have