Learning Things

The crack of bullets echoed across the town, the silent backdrop serving to amplify the weapon’s fire. Once the chamber was spent the men looked up to see the body riddled with bullet holes. Hardy rushed to Jon and Leslie’s side, the deputy moving in with his weapon on the body. It seemed that it was over. As the deputy checked the body Hardy would send Jon and Leslie on their way. “You’re okay big guy,” Hardy offered. “You’re soaked through. Go on.” He urged. The two were a bit shaken. Jon looked to Leslie as they hurried down the sidewalk. “What -- you kicked him hard.” Leslie nodded. “Yeah, but when you’re on those kinds of drugs you keep at it you know?” Hardy reached onto his shoulder where his walkie say. “Hey, you guys got any news from the water plant?” A voice crackled over the radio. “[Yeah boss. Seems one of their pipes burst so they had their own issues. They won’t be operational again til the power’s back in that area.]” There was a pause in the comms before a soft click was heard over the other end, indicating the officer pressed the button again. “[You check in with Charlie? He ain’t called back in since he was sent to the mortuary. We can never get a signal out there.]” Hardy sighed. “Right, I’m on it. There’s some more bodies for Mortimer too, some druggies wreckin’ the place while no one was watchin’.” “[Copy that boss. Over.]” The channel went silent. Hardy looked up to the deputy. “You wait here, help Micheal with old Mac. Get him to the EMTs. I’m going up to the mortuary to check on Charlie and Mortimer.” He noticed the deputy staring at the body, intensely inspecting something around the back of their neck. “What is it?” “Boss...“ The deputy turned the corpse around to show a bullet wound at the back of his head. “Mikey made that shot.” Micheal was a marksman so when he made a shot it was usually to kill. Hardy leaned in closer. The wound was clean. It was definitely Micheal’s shot. That man could clip a deer from ten yards out. “You know how some of these drugs are, it’ll keep a man movin’ even if he’s got a foot in the grave. Come on. Go help Mikey out. I’ll be back.” The sheriff would look back to the body before pushing to stand. Heading back to his squad car he would strap in his seat belt and drive up down West Avenue, taking a sharp turn down Hollow Road which led to the graveyard, which was broken up into two sites: the old site, where many of the founding members of the community were entombed in family crypts or buried straight in the ground long before regulations for burials existed. Then there was the second complex which was built on a higher foundation away from the water table so that when floods would occur there was no contamination or risk of eroding the graves. There had already been problems with bodies trudging up the river in the past and they wanted to be sure they weren’t dealing with tainted water on top of injured and rabble rousers. Jon and Leslie would arrive at Misha’s only to find that it was packed with people, those either seeking shelter from the rain or getting something warm to eat. Like most places Misha’s had been one of the ones to lose power, but unlike others she had a wood burning stove that didn’t depend on the utilities to run. It had been quite warm as well so it was a good place to dry off. Many people had bowls of chili or her special borscht and had blankets over their shoulders, courtesy of the proprietress. “Ah, welcome you two, sit sit I will bring you chili soon!” Misha called from the kitchen as she worked to get everyone a bowl of something hot! Leslie reached out to grab Jon’s arm, tugging at his sleeve. Turning his gaze to the taller woman she would point to one of the booths where Kaitlynn sat with her head hung low, an empty bowl of what was likely borscht, by the red stains along the white, porcelain bowl. They moved inside, careful as to where they stepped. While Misha’s Munchies was not flooded, the tile floors were wet from the heavy foot traffic. The pair would slide into the booth: first Jon than Leslie. They looked to each other, concern evident in their expressions before they looked to the young woman. Kaitlynn was training to be a nurse at the university. After her mother died of an untreatable illness and watching how the nurses had made her last days in life comfortable had really stuck with the young woman so she was quite determined. She had short, brown hair that went down to her neck. With no bangs obscuring her face her soft features contrasted with her strong jaw and high cheekbones. She was pretty, but her family’s reputation made many of the younger families uneasy. Jon felt someone should speak up, but it was not him. “Kait, what’s the matter?” Leslie was always very gentle despite her boisterousness. “You look sick, hun.” The occultist would reach out to touch at Kaitlynn’s forehead, as if checking her temperature. It was a motherly gesture, one not lost on Jon. It was strange that, despite her tomboyishness she could be so warm. But Leslie’s father was a gentle man who always took care of the neighborhood kids; he let them play on his farm, or work part time when they were struggling. Some kids would even run away to the family’s farm to stay overnight. It was safe to say they had averted many tragedies with their open door policy, acting more like a sanctuary for the lost lambs. They were a safer space, more than the church could ever be. Jon shifted uneasily in his seat as he looked around. He recognized a few of the faces. The old Eckerman couple were resting shoulder to shoulder. They lived close to the old cemeteries so it wasn’t a surprise they were down here, somewhere dry. That area was always the worst during storms. “He’s...“ Kaitlynn would finally speak up, her voice breaking. “He’s in the hospital.” She finally choked out. Leslie gripped her hand firmly. “Who, hun? Who’s in the hospital?” Kaitlynn sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She reached over to the end of the table to grab a napkin to wipe her face and blow her nose. After a moment of collecting herself she would look up. “Pa-kun.” She pushed out, to Jon and Leslie’s surprise. Jon shook his head. “What?!” He was struck by disbelief. “What do you mean?! How what --?!” Leslie reached up to lay her hand on his forearm to calm him down. “...go on Kait.” She looked over the bring of her wire-frame glasses to the other woman. “Right,” She began. “Well they found him at the O’Brian’s shop. He was covered in cuts and a sprained ankle.” She looked down towards her empty bowl. “He said that Mrs. O’Brian had been on a rampage. The Mr. O’Brian is dead ....” “What...?” Jon gasped softly. “But -- wait, I?” Jon exhaled, feeling a heavy sensation press onto his shoulders, but when he looked up he would realize he did: it was Nathan, and Nikki! The two had arrived amidst the conversation before sliding into the booth on Kaitlynn’s side, the flustered woman moving over at Nikki’s behest: who pulled her into a hug. “Nate, Pa-kun--” “I know.” he put his arms on the table, leaning forward as he gripped his music player in hand. “Kait called us. His parents are stuck on the other side of the bridge so can’t come down.” He informed, as Nathan was an emergency contact as Pa-kun’s nana lived at the end of his block. Kaitlynn sighed. “He was babbling so none of the EMTs paid him any mind, but...“ As she moved to explain, Misha would arrive at the table and slam down a few, still-warm bowls of chili and borscht for the youths. “Do not look so glum. Bo is in back making fresh cuts, yes? I will make you kids a nice meatloaf. It is my specialty.” She beamed joyously before departing to tend to her other customers. The chili at Misha’s was thick. It was full of beans, ground day-old hamburgers and Polish sausages that were homemade and quite spicy. Feeling his stomach churn, Nathan slides the bowl over to Jon who accepted it greedily. He was hungry as he had left Nathan’s without eating and had waded in that bone-chilling water for at least an hour already. When Misha was back in the kitchen Kaitlynn lowered her head to whisper among the others. “Pa-kun said Mrs. O’Brain was screaming over and over that he was ‘one of them’ and came at him like she was possessed. She was shaking and laughed hysterically as she tried to stab him.” She looked to Leslie. “You think it’s Harold?” Jon was about to spoon some of the chili into his mouth, but stopped when he heard the strangely familiar name. “Harold?” Leslie nodded. “Yeah, sounds a lot like his antics.” She looked over to Jon, arms on the table as she leaned down to also whisper. “Harold was an old Klan member who had done some pretty horrible things... He's Kait’s great, great, great uncle.” Kaitlynn would look away. “They said Harold was a psychopath and did some awful stuff to some kids. He was hanged for it eventually, but they say he’s still seen around this block, where he had died, since the old gallows were here til they were moved up to Hollow Road. Says he hated Irishmen, targeted them pretty regularly and was in it real bad with one of the O’Brian’s ancestors. But,” She paused. “But--?” Jon looked deeply into Leslie’s eyes. “It doesn't make sense. Even if he was a demonic spirit or poltergeist they wouldn’t possess someone for nothing and as far as I know Mrs. O’Brian is a saint. A bit loud and mouthy, but she ain’t a bad person, you know?” They nodded in understanding. “That’s just what people say when they don’t wanna take responsibility for their own actions, but Kait is right -- something’s off about that. She wouldn’t just lose it.” They were in agreement with this. Jon was intent on taking a bite of the chili but all he could think about was the drug addict that grabbed him, how he was shot dead, just like that. He set his spoon down and pushed the bowl away. Something wasn’t right though.