Byron Starr - Doppelgänger

Sam then picked up a small spiral notepad and read off. “‘That’s not very comforting, Sheriff Oates. Don’t you think that it’s your job?’ Then she is cut off.” He put the notepad down and continued. “She seems to be reacting to something the creature said. Now, if you can imagine a creature that can somehow manipulate your eyesight, it’s fairly easy to imagine something that can manipulate your hearing. But that’s not the worst of it. We aren’t able to hear what he says, but the way she reacted leads me to believe that the creature answered her second question intelligently.”

There was some murmuring at this statement, and even a snicker here and there, but Sam had expected this. After all, he was telling them something that went against just about everything they’d ever been taught, from grade school on up.

“I know this must sound like a crock to most of you, so I’m going to take a break here to answer a few questions before I press on.” Sam pointed at the highway patrol officer who had started to ask a question earlier. “I believe you had a question.”

“Yes, sir, I was thinking maybe the tape could have been altered by a computer or something.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Sam answered. “I’ve seen my share of doctored videotapes and if it is, I’ve certainly never seen one this good. Also, there wouldn’t have been enough time between when Mrs. Parish and Mr. McCoy were killed and the time the bodies were found to fix up the video after the killings, and the wounds correspond too well with what’s in the video for it to have been made beforehand.”

Carl Price, who was sitting on the edge of his desk, spoke next. “No offense, sir, but I find it hard to believe this thing is going into people’s mind and doing their thinking for them.”

There were numerous murmurs and nods of agreement at this.

Carl continued, “Is it possible this thing somehow makes them hallucinate? Maybe it releases some sort of gas or something.”

“Possible, but I don’t think so. If that were the case, then, how did it make Mrs. Parish and Mr. McCoy have the same hallucination? Remember, they both thought they saw Bill.”

Then Sam received help from an unexpected quarter. Darren Woolford spoke up. With a slight tremor in his voice, Darren said, “It was dark, but I did get a glimpse of that thing in the Beck house.” Darren pointed at the TV. “That thing there was what I saw. It looked like that.”

Max Davis spoke up from across the room, “Wait a minute. If that’s the case, why did Darren see that thing looking like that,” Max pointed at the TV, “instead of looking like Mary Poppins or Puff the Magic Dragon?”

This caused a round of laughter, even Sam cracked a smile.

“I think it’s because he caught it by surprise,” Sam answered. “But I’m not sure.”

One of the new game wardens spoke up next. “Captain Jones, when you said that thing answered Mrs. Parish intelligently, were you meaning intelligent like a person?”

Here was the question Sam had been waiting for. “Yes, that is exactly what I meant,” Sam replied, receiving the expected mumbles of disagreement. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but judging by some of the other things this creature has done it’s probably accurate. Remember last week when we tried to track it down with the dogs. Only two days later that creature traveled almost twenty miles from where it last struck and attacks the bloodhounds. I, myself, find it hard to believe a creature like that,” Sam pointed at the screen, “could have human intelligence, but in light of what all has happened, there’s no doubt in my mind that we’d be better off overestimating this thing than we would be underestimating it.”

Sam paused, once again to allow the importance of what was said to sink, then he continued, “This brings me to our biggest problem. How do we stop this thing? So far as I can tell, there is no way to tell the difference between this creature and whatever disguise it takes on. For now, the best we can do is patrol the area heavily, especially inside and just outside the city limits. Also, from here on out, anyone patrolling at night will have a partner and will remain with their partner at all times. Furthermore, for the remainder of this crisis, or until further developments, all partners must be quartered together.”

There were several groans at this, and one officer spoke up, “What about our families?”

“For the most part, we have taken care of that with our new schedule.” Sam indicated a stack of photocopied papers resting beside the TV. “We’ve tried to schedule most of the officers who have families locally and might have difficulty sparing a room for daytime duty, which won’t require a partner. Still, quite a few of you will have house guests for an undetermined amount of time.”

Sam’s audience groaned once more.

“I know this is something of an inconvenience, but it is necessary,” Sam replied. “When this is over, I’ll personally see that the State reimburses everyone involved for any extra expenses.”

Sam then picked up the schedules he had indicated earlier and handed them to one of the game wardens sitting on the floor in front. “Take one and pass them around.”

Sam waited until everyone had a schedule before continuing. “More than eighty percent of the patrols will be dusk-til-dawn shifts in northern Newton County, centering around the city of Newton.”

Sam then went over the schedule from top to bottom, before dismissing the officers. He knew that many, if not most, of the officers at the meeting were unconvinced of what they were dealing with. All of their lives they had been conditioned against belief in such supernatural beasts, and one meeting was just not enough to change their mindset. However, even if their conscious mind refused to accept what they saw, the sight of the creature walking right up to Jana Parish and ripping her apart would stay embedded in their subconscious. They were now just a little better prepared for the beast lurking in the woods around Newton.

The cells at the Newton County Jail were empty of their normal inmates. Ironically, their current occupants were law enforcers rather than lawbreakers. Two days ago Sam had arranged for all of the inmates to be transferred to Jasper, freeing the jailers for patrolling, except for Jack, who was convinced that he was still needed at the Sheriff’s Office. This had also enabled them to use the cells to house Bill, Sam, and now James.

That night James bedded down in cell number nine, right across the row from cell number two, where he had spent four nights when he’d been under arrested for the murder of William Youngblood. This visit was much less formal. No fingerprints were made, no front and profile pictures were taken, and the door to his cell was kept unlocked. James’ suitcase sat in one corner of the cell, and his cell was now equipped with clean sheets and a feather pillow. It was still a jail cell though. The walls were that sickly shade of blue, and names and obscenities were still carved into the pictureless, windowless, walls.

The only decoration was a small potted cactus Emilio had put in James’ cell earlier in the day as a joke. The more James got to know Emilio Rodriguez, the more he reminded James of Greg O’Brien. Emilio was not quite as rowdy as Greg, but they both had the same brand of humor; the rare kind that allowed them to laugh at themselves just as easily as they could laugh at someone else, and enabled them to tell a knock-knock joke to a seven-year old with the same enthusiasm they would tell a dirty joke to a barroom full of drunks. Right now, James’ new friendship with Emilio was painful. James realized that what Emilio and Greg had in common was they both loved life. And now Greg was dead.