M Sellars - Never Burn A Witch

I spoke. “Victim number four.”

“They think so. There’s a hole in the ice.” He bobbed his head. “It hasn’t even started to freeze back over yet.”

“I was afraid that might be why there were two.” I nodded toward my arm as Doctor Sanders mechanically wrapped gauze around it and listened in. “But I ignored it again, and whoever is trying to talk to me resorted to the water…” I let my voice trail off as a spasm of the recent personal horror worked its way back into my thoughts.

“Is that what you meant earlier?” the M.E. questioned cynically. “You actually think the water was somehow mystically conjured into your lungs because of what the killer did to the latest victim?”

“No offense, Doctor,” I ventured, “but do you have a reasonable explanation for how it got there? Medical or otherwise?”

“Fluid can build up in lung tissue due to a variety of medical conditions,” she replied.

“Fluid heavily laden with chlorine?” I asked.

She didn’t answer. She just shook her head and continued taping the gauze in place.

“Jeezus, white man,” Ben mused with a loud sigh, “I thought I was gettin’ used to this Twilight Zone shit, but this…”

“Too weird,” Constance muttered.

“Yeah,” Ben echoed quietly. “What she said.”

For the most part, my disquiet had faded into the background during the short drive to the Cherry Wood Trails subdivision. I still did not fully understand why, but suffocation and drowning were my most deep-seated phobias. They had been since I was a small child. To now have my darkest fear brought that close to realization was very nearly more than I had been able to bear.

After twenty minutes of intense concentration, I had almost succeeded in forcing the disturbing thoughts from my mind. Unfortunately, our arrival at the latest crime scene dredged them immediately back to the forefront.

Ben nosed the van into the only available parking space he could find and switched off the engine.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked, worry once again creasing his brow.

I realized as he spoke that my breaths were quickly becoming shallow gasps. The panting had begun as soon as I stared out across the street at the bustling activity around the swimming pool enclosure. I knew there had to be terror in my eyes when I looked at him, and when I jerkily nodded my head to the affirmative, he stared back with an unconvinced, thin-lipped frown.

“Bullshit,” he replied. “You’re a friggin’ wreck. You shoulda gone ta’ the hospital. I’m grabbin’ a squad and sendin’ ya’ home.”

“No.” I shook my head while trying to calm the rampant panic that was building in the pit of my stomach.

He was correct. At the moment I was a wreck, but it was a luxury I couldn’t afford. There simply wasn’t enough time. Me breaking down would not do any good for anyone, including myself, and it definitely wasn’t going to help find the killer.

“No. I’ll be all right,” I continued. “I just need a minute.”

Knowing I had to get a grip, I began to inwardly visualize myself surrounded by an impenetrable shield of white light. In my mind I was carefully constructing a barrier, tangible only on a supernormal level, but exactly what I needed to hold the frightening visions at bay nonetheless. Almost instantly I began to relax.

“Well if ya’ won’t go to the hospital and ya’ won’t go home,” he ventured, “why don’t you just wait here in the van? The techs from the crime scene unit are takin’ pictures, and I can fill ya’ in on any other details afterwards.”

“That may not be enough, Ben,” I returned and cocked my head in the direction of the scene. “Maybe this victim saw his face. Maybe there’s something in there that won’t show up on a photograph but will be visible to me. I can’t let a stupid phobia keep me from doing what I was brought here to do.”

“Fuck phobias, Rowan!” he shot back. “I just watched you almost drown in a goddamned dry apartment. That’s not a phobia, white man, that’s… that’s… Well hell, I dunno what it was, but I know ya’ coulda died. And that was the second time too! In my book that’s worth more than just a little fear.”

“I let you know right from the very beginning that this one was going to be worse than the last case,” I told him quietly.

“Yeah…” Ben nodded. “But I thought you were just talkin’ about the body count.”

“Unfortunately, so did I.”

I was feeling much more at ease now, though it was a sensation that was most certainly only temporary. I had successfully wrestled the demon known as terror back into its cage for the time being, and the thick supernatural armor I had erected around myself would protect me from the outside influences of the scene. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay hidden behind it the entire time, for if I did my particular talents would be useless. However, what I would do was try to keep myself safe for a little while. At least until I was fully grounded and ready to face whatever horrific image was waiting for me on the other side.

“Okay,” my friend eventually huffed. “Short of bannin’ ya’ from the scene, I know I’m gonna play hell tryin’ ta’ keep ya’ out, so I might as well give up. But,” he added sharply and thrust a stiff index finger at me, “first sign of you bein’ in some kinda spooky ass trouble, you’re outta here. No arguments. Understood?”

“Understood,” I agreed.

“Better yet, no hocus-pocus without warnin’ me first.”

“I can’t always control it, Ben. You know that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes ya’ do shit without tellin’ anyone and ya’ get yourself in trouble. That’s the kinda thing I’m talkin’ about.”

“Okay, okay. If I try to do anything, I promise I’ll tell you first.”

“Like I said, don’t try anything. If it just happens ain’t much I can do about it, but don’t be makin’ it happen.”

“Yeah. Okay. I won’t.”

“I’m serious, Row.”

“I know you are.”

After he finally gave his reluctant, negotiated blessing, Ben and I climbed out of the beat up Chevy and started across the small parking lot toward the crux of the activity. Since we were on the opposite side of the street, we had to stop for a moment and wait as a large, black panel van rolled past. A patina of grey and white from salt and road grime dusted its dark exterior, blending it in with every other vehicle in the city that had yet to see time in a car wash. A multi-pitched mechanical groan emitted from beneath the van, audibly announcing improperly meshed gears as the driver shifted and slowed. The van coasted for a second while the occupant stared at the spectacle, or so I assumed. A fraction of a minute later the engine gunned and roared its protest in an off key duet with the transmission as it was up-shifted again.

“Take a picture, asshole,” Ben called after the pair of dusky red taillights. “It’ll last longer.”

As we crossed the narrow lane immediately behind the passing vehicle, a cold tingle danced up my spine. My scalp tightened painfully, and the hair on the back of my neck tilted upward, sending a prickling sensation throughout. I caught myself as I tripped across the low curb and stifled a small gasp. Fortunately, Ben didn’t know the real reason behind my stumbling, and I was able to mask the event as a random attack of clumsiness.

I was more than a little surprised and took a moment to bolster my defenses even more. I shouldn’t have felt anything yet, and if something was getting through to me already, then this was going to be worse than I originally thought.

In that moment, I became even less pleased by the prospect that I would soon need to cast away these ethereal shields in order to view the scene with senses other than the physical. I tried not to think about it as we continued walking. Needless to say, I met with only limited success.