Byron Starr - Doppelgänger

The beast quietly descended the other side of the small hill and moved further into the woods.

When Bill, James, and Emilio arrived back at the station, Sam was there waiting.

“What happened?” he asked as they came through the door.

“Let’s step into my office,” Bill said.

Once they were settled in their customary seats, Sam asked. “Will someone please tell me what the hell happened this morning?”

Sam had just returned from a short trip out to his father’s place and was told that Bill, James, and Emilio had lit out this morning without telling anyone where they were going. He knew it had to be a development in the case. Sam had been in Austin when Jana Parish was killed and now this. All he could think about was, I’ll be damned if I let any of them out of my sight again.

“James saw where that thing’s been hidin’ durin’ the day in one of his dreams. It was underneath the old Beulah Church,” Bill explained.

“Beulah Church? Never heard of it.”

“A black church down a dirt road off fourteen-fourteen. It hasn’t been used in years.”

Sam still didn’t remember it, but he nodded and waved his hand for Bill to go on.

“We took Emilio’s truck down the dirt road to the church. When we came around the corner, it came out from under the church and made for the woods. Emilio got out and fired at it, and we think he winged it.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Sure did,” Emilio said, making like he was holding an invisible rifle in his hands. He pulled an invisible trigger and added, “I plugged the hell out of it.”

Bill continued, “We found blood, but not much. I don’t think it’s mortally wounded, but at least we know the damn thing bleeds.”

“Did you try to track it?”

“Not for long. Like I said, I don’t think it’s mortally wounded, and we weren’t too big on the idea of following that thing into the underbrush.”

Hearing the fact that the beast wasn’t mortally wounded repeated twice, Emilio decided he should throw in, “I think it may have been walking on three legs after I hit it. It may have a crippled arm now.”

Everyone, Emilio included, had the sinking feeling they had just missed their best opportunity to kill the beast. They had caught it unprepared, at its lair, and probably asleep. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. They couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if they had stopped the noisy four-wheel drive a few hundred yards from the church and crept up. Emilio’s shot had been nothing short of amazing, but he kept wondering if he’d just been a little more accurate. Bill wondered if he had taken his time, or maybe if he’d brought more men with him. Sam was kicking himself in the ass for not being around when it all happened; he wondered if he had been there if they might have bagged the beast. And James privately wondered if things might have turned out better if he’d awakened during the dream and they’d tried to kill the beast while it was in town. They had come so close to come up empty-handed.

When Sam placed Emilio in charge of all the game wardens currently operating in Newton County, Emilio had been flattered. Now he looked at his new position as more of a pain in the ass than anything else. First off, it was an odd position for him to be in; over three quarters of the game wardens under him had more years of experience, and not all of them exactly appreciated being passed over. He also found that it was a lot more work than he’d expected. Not only was he still working the all-night patrols, but when he came in the next morning, he had to check in with Bill and Sam, who, since they’d had a full night’s sleep, invariably wanted to talk for hours on end about the current situation. Afterwards Emilio still had to do all the necessary paperwork and interview any game wardens who thought they saw anything the night before. And, just when it was beginning to look like he was going to get to go home and get some rest, a game warden would want to talk to him about a problem with his schedule. Emilio went on duty at eight each evening, and he usually didn’t get home until around noon; a full sixteen-hour shift, sometimes longer.

Yesterday, just after Emilio had gone home, one of the game wardens had seen some buzzards circling off Lee’s Mill Road. When they investigated they found what appeared to be the remains of a hunter who had been killed several weeks ago, possibly near the beginning of hunting season. It appeared to be another victim. As usual, Bill had called Emilio out to look at the scene. Sure enough, there were tracks all around the area. James said he hadn’t seen this one, but judging the advanced stage of decomposition, the hunter had been killed during the first week of the month when James was on Xanax and not having his visions. By the time Emilio was finished at the scene, he was only able to get a two-hour nap before going back on patrol that night.

Today had turned out to be almost as long a day as yesterday. After this morning’s excitement out at the Beulah Church, Bill and Sam wanted to talk even longer than usual. It was past noon before he was able to leave Bill’s office. As it turned out, there wasn’t very much paperwork to do, and only a couple of game wardens came in to talk about their patrols, but it was still almost three before Emilio could head home. He was dead tired, and would probably only get three hours of sleep before he went back on patrol.

Now I know how James feels, Emilio thought as he fought to keep his heavy eyelids from shutting while he pulled down the short dirt drive to his trailer.

Parked in front was another game warden vehicle, this one a pickup. It belonged to Bret Fuller, a game warden from West Texas who had been assigned as Emilio’s partner. He wasn’t with Emilio this morning because he had gone home to get some rest while Emilio worked over the details of the schedule with the sheriff. Emilio would be glad when Bret was gone. The man was too nit-picky clean, and he snored worse than anyone Emilio had ever heard. It sounded like Bret had a sawmill running wide open in his throat. Even with the door to his bedroom shut, and wads of toilet paper crammed in his ears, it still took some time before Emilio could get to sleep with all the racket. He doubted it would be a problem today; he was exhausted.

As he got out of the car, he saw Bret coming from around the side of the building.

“You’re running late today. What’s up at the office?”

“It’s a long story,” Emilio said as he walked toward his door.

Emilio was normally a perceptive man. He probably would have wondered why Bret had been around the side of the building. Or maybe he would have noticed Bret was approaching him just a little too eagerly. Or he might have just felt something was out of place, even though the beast had yet to become so bold as to attack someone in broad daylight. But, right now, Emilio was exhausted and his mind was set on getting into his bed.

When he got almost a third of the way from his truck to the door, he heard something coming from inside the trailer. Snoring.

He turned and ran for his truck. The beast, which was about halfway from the side of the house, dropped to all fours and darted toward him. Given a lead of about fifty feet, Emilio was able to get to the Blazer, get inside, get the key in the ignition, and he even managed to turn the key and crank the engine before the beast reached him.

But the beast was there before he could put the truck in gear.

The beast’s clawed hand burst through the driver’s side window, sending shattered glass flying throughout the cab. Emilio flung himself across the seat just in time as the beast raked its claws across the back of the seat, leaving five deep tears that would have been on Emilio’s upper chest and throat.