J. Kerley - The Broken Souls

For my children,

Amanda and John.

They make life shine.

Cover Page

Title Page The Broken Souls J.A. Kerley

AUTHOR’S NOTE AUTHOR’S NOTE I exercised broad license in bending settings and institutions to the whims of the story. All should be regarded as fiction save for the natural beauty of Mobile and its environs. Any similarities between characters in this work and real characters, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

EPILOGUE

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by J.A. Kerley

Copyright

About the Publisher

I exercised broad license in bending settings and institutions to the whims of the story. All should be regarded as fiction save for the natural beauty of Mobile and its environs. Any similarities between characters in this work and real characters, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental.

Eastern Mobile County, Alabama, early 2000s

“Are you sure he ran this way? I don’t see anything.”

“Keep your damn voice down. Don’t touch the blood. And just use light when you need it.”

Lucas heard voices in the distance and his eyes snapped open. The world was spinning slowly, like he was caught in a syrupy vortex. Lucas threw his arms out to his sides to hold on and felt his fingers touch grass. It was night, but he saw the dark shadows of nearby trees. Comets were spinning between their trunks, blinking on and off: comet, no comet. It smelled fresh here in cometland, like dew and wet leaves. A very peculiar effect, he thought. Also peculiar: a single star straight up in the sky, flashing, like the comets and the star were conversing.

“I see a car! Hidden behind the trees, branches over it. He’s around here.”

“We’ll have to get rid of the car. Fast. Call for a trailer.”

Lucas closed his eyes and took a deep breath of cool air. The solitary star blinked. Another comet flashed across the sky. No, not comets, his clearing mind registered, it was flashlights pressing through fog. He was in a field beside a woods, damp weeds bristling against the sides of his face. Why was he in farmland? Had he gotten drunk? Why were there flashlights? Looking for something.

Looking for him.

What had he done?

The footsteps resumed, with the sound of bodies pushing aside branches, stepping on twigs. Flashlight beams swept through the weeds and trees. Lucas’s world turned white as a beam crossed him. He made himself lay absolutely still. The light passed by.

But in the moment of illumination he had seen something odd: his hand was red. He stared at his dark fingers, perversely entranced. Then he realized it wasn’t just his hand: his blue institutional pajamas were soaked with blood.

The voices started again. Louder and closer.

“I saw something at the base of the microwave tower. It should be to your left; can you see the tower light blinking above the trees?”

“Be careful. He’s…resourceful.”

A montage of pictures formed in Lucas’s head, recent memories playing like a jittery movie. He started to remember and his gut went cold. He should have figured they’d be coming. He knew too much.

“Shouldn’t the doctor be here? Why didn’t you bring him?”

“Shut up. I’ll circle to the far side of the tower. Keep the walkie-talkie low, light off. I’ll tell you when to move in.”

It was black and quiet for several minutes. Lucas wiped the blood from his hands to his pants, flexed fingers, arms, legs. He could move now, escape. He drew himself into an unsteady crouch as the comets started flashing again. His world turned white. Black. He stumbled to his feet, his knees like gimbals, seeming to wobble every direction. Run! his mind screamed.

“I see him, he’s up.”

“I’m coming in from my side. Get the stunner out.”

Lucas took a deep breath, calculated the angles his pursuers had chosen, figured his way past them. He gathered his energy into his core.

Just as he ran, the world turned white.

“Damn, he just ran into a tower support. He’s down and rolling around.”

“Go!”

He heard running feet. Felt bodies fall over him, wrestle him over, his face pressing deep into the wet grass. He felt metal wrap his wrists, pain. He smelled sweat. Aftershave. And a piercing reek of fear, not his own.

“Zap him!”

“He’s not fighting.”

“I told you to –”

There was a shivering blue explosion and the comets returned, each bringing a hundred stars to the party. They whooshed and tumbled and danced. It was beautiful.

In the distance, the voices started up again.

“There’s something all over him. Jesus, Crandell, it’s blood.”

“Get him up and moving. We’ve got to get out of here.”

And then a mouth at his ear, hot and wet. A happy mouth, it seemed, like it had just consumed a delicious meal.

“What did you do, Lucas?” the happy mouth whispered. “What terrible thing have you done this time?”

Present time

A stalled weather front bred thunderstorm cells from New Orleans to Pensacola. Rain dropped in sheets and lightning shredded the sky. Then, as if on a switch, the deluge halted and the air turned sweet and balmy. Ten minutes later, earth and sky were at war again. Mobile, Alabama, was dead center in the conflict.

“What do you think, Carson?” My detective partner, Harry Nautilus, peered through the windshield wipers. “Time to start loading up animals two by two?”

“How about this time we leave the mosquitoes behind?”

It was nine thirty p.m., the streets almost dead, sane people safe at home. Harry and I were parked near the downtown library. We were working four to midnight, something we did a couple times a week, most bad guys being nocturnal as owls. Not that we’d see much of them tonight; of the five hours we’d been in the car, two were spent against the curb, blinded by rain.

The radio came to life, the signal mangled by nearby lightning.

“DB …Eldredge and …truck driver heading to hosp …ains.”

“Did I hear DB?” Harry said. DB was Dead Body. He grabbed the microphone.

“Nautilus here, Dispatch. You’re breaking up. Repeat.”

“DB …corner of Industrial and Eldredge. Called in by a truck driver. Driver en route to hospital with chest pains.”

We were eight blocks away.

“Nautilus and Ryder confirm message received,” Harry said. “We’re on our way.”

Harry jammed the Crown Vic into gear, roared toward the scene. I figured we left a wake like a speedboat. The radio crackled again. Not Dispatch, but another detective team in the vicinity.