Haunted Bodies

Haunted Bodies

by

Zachariah Chamberlin

Loneliness has a scent.

That's what Richard Warren thought as he leaned against his black Cadillac in the ruins of the Salt Creek Elementary School parking lot. The smell was a stew of the uncut grass, dusty pebbles, and the recently departed rainclouds. Just how long would he have to wait?

"Detective Warren?" called out a voice from within the shadows of the school entrance. The moon was full tonight and so very bright. A Hunter's Moon. Tonight was the closest and reddest it will be. It bathed everything the light touched in a red hue.

The deep shadows birth the slender figure of a man. Instinctually, Richard began sizing this man up. He never took chances, and life taught him to look for danger.

This man had a strange way about him. He was adorned in a white dress shirt, black vest and coat, and black trousers. At first glance, Richard thought he looked like some gothic figure from an Edgar Allen Poe story.

Contrary to his conservative clothing style was his bright red hair; even in this moonlight, the top of the man's head appeared as if it was on fire. The sides of his scalp were shaved, and Richard could see tattoos etched around his skull and rolling down his neck.

He walked with a cane and wore silver-rimmed shades. With every step, the man stabbed the sidewalk leading into the school. Each footstep was punctuated with a tick from the metal spike that ended the stick's length.

"Yeah, I'm Warren. You are?" Richard Warren said curtly.

"The name's Phineas Thatch." The man said, grinning. He extended a gloved hand. Richard took it briefly, obviously in no mood for pleasantries.

"Detective Warren, I was told by the local constables that you might have some insight into a series of murders that have been terrorizing this town," Phineas turned and headed back toward the school. "The police were able to apprehend the man committing these acts, but he isn't talking."

"Why call me? They got interrogators, right? He'll crack sooner or later." Richard said. He only wanted to go home and read while sipping some Jameson. Anything would be better than hanging with this weirdo.

"They can't get him to talk because he's in a coma," Phineas replied with a shrug. "no amount of pressure can fix that. Evidence found on him suggests his last victim is still alive."

"Got an ID on the vic?" Richard asked as he lit a cigarette. He blew the blue-grey smoke out in a hateful stream. 

"Six-year-old boy. Kevin Knowles. Bright kid, likes to swim, loves Paw Patrol." Phineas relayed. "Taken from his bus stop after school. Just happened to be waiting alone for his mother to come pick him up."

"So again, why me?" Richard said.

"The FEDS seem to think you may have some experience with killers of this sort," Phineas replied.

"Ok, why you?" Richard felt like this was some game of cat-and-mouse to this guy.

"I've been hired on as a consultant. I've worked with Law enforcement in the past." Phineas replied, not surprised by the question. "I see things others miss."

"Are you a fucking psychic?" Richard scoffed.

"I suppose you could call me that. It's not something I go around advertising. It is a hard brand to sell." Phineas said, almost apologetically. "Anyway, I thought I would walk around the school where this sicko worked."

"Lead on." Richard retorted. Phineas walked ahead, pushing through the double doors. The school had been closed for quite some time and lacked power. Phineas pulled a flashlight from his coat and handed it to Richard.

"Our guy was the janitor and groundskeeper here," Phineas said as they walked down the empty halls. The smell of paper, crayon, and something tangy hung in the air. Richard remembered liking the scent of his school. He thought about those days as a boy and how school was the only place he could be a kid.

Richard would go to school no matter how tired or beat up he got at home. Even if other kids thought he was weird, he enjoyed watching them be free. The teachers were often the kindest people he knew, too.

Richard was shaken from his reverie when he nearly bumped into Phineas. The strange man stood before an office; the entryway was crossed in yellow police tape. This deterrent did not prevent graffiti from being scrawled across the wood.

Pervert. Baby Killer. Fag. Other curses were seared into the door with permanent black markers or primitive wood carvings. Unconcerned with protocol, Phineas tore the tape away from the door.

Richard stared at those strange glasses Phineas wore. The silver rims were ornate, and the lens nearly covered his field of vision completely, including his peripheral sight. The lenses were so dark that it made Richard curious how the man could see in the gloom of these empty halls.

"I have a condition that affects my sight," Phineas said as if he was reading Richard's mind. "my gifts came with a curse. I see spirits. More accurately, I see the land of the dead, Gehenna."

"Ok, sure," Richards said incredulously. "so you see dead people. Like the kid from "Sixth Sense"?

Ignoring the snarky tone in Richard's voice, Phineas smiled, "Yeah, something like that."

"Sounds distracting," Richard said, rolling his eyes and his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Phineas opened the door and walked into the office without a word. Richard trailed after him slowly. The darkness of the room felt oppressive, the air within stale. Richard fumbled around the door frame, looking for a light switch.

Tracing his fingertips along the frame, Richard's hand came upon the plastic cover for the light. He yelped in surprise when a hand grabbed his fingers. Richard pulled away quickly as if he had touched a hot stove.

There was a click from the switch, and Richard was startled again by the broad, evil grin of Phineas. Richard stumbled back into a file cabinet, cursing. Phineas didn't move from his spot and just stared at him in amusement.

"Jesus fuck!" Richard said as he tried to control his breathing. "Goddammit, you are a creep, you know that?"

Phineas didn't respond to this. "This was our killer's office when he worked for the school district. We are looking for clues about the whereabouts of his last kidnapping victim and those he buried."

"Fine. Let's get this shit over with. Anything you expect me to find?" Richard said.

"I was told you could think like this man. Had insight into his thought processes. Let's use that." Phineas said.

Richard began looking around the small office. The walls were painted in neutral tones. Oatmeal-looking taupe, no posters, no photos. The file cabinet once held records but has all been cleared except a single empty folder.

Nothing in the room was extraordinary, no unique furniture piece or artwork. There weren't even pictures of the family. There was something about the desk, though. Richard approached it as though it was a skittish fawn.

"Why this desk? What's so special about it?" Richard suddenly nearly jumped when he realized Phineas was asking him the question. 

Richard used his senses to absorb the scene. He could almost feel the memories held within this institution. Tasting the childhood in the air. He understood this man liked working here. He was happiest in this place.

"This was the only place he felt safe and free." Richard finally said.

"Well, this is interesting," Phineas replied, standing where the office chair once rested. He pulled open the center drawer. It was empty, but Phineas probed it with his fingers anyway. Richard heard a sharp click echo throughout the office as he came around to see what Phineas was toying with.

Phineas seemed rather pleased with himself. Richard hissed and looked around like someone would burst in from those empty halls. The surface of the desk had been modified to be lifted.

With a smile, Phineas raised the desktop. Hinges squeaked in protest initially, and with a second click, the desktop locked into a ninety-degree position. Beneath the polished surface was a perverse inspiration board facing Phineas and Richard.

"What the fuck?" Phineas said in horror. In the shallow compartment was a diorama of the school, the surrounding fields, and a path leading to a house on a hill beyond the borders of the crops.

Peppered across the landscape were toothpicks topped with small origami birds. Each one was placed gently, and each delicate bird was carefully impaled on the small wood stake.

The inspiration board was a collage of photos, drawings, and news clippings of the murders. Next to several of the clippings was a token of some sort. A trophy?

Richard peered into each clipping and drawing. Some pictures and photos were before and after images of a victim. All of them were children, even babies. 

Along the sides of the board were notes. Richard felt hot and started loosening his tie. His palms were shaking and sweaty. Richard wiped his hands on his pants. The notes were contacts of other men. Collaborators?

"What do you suppose that is?" Richard jumped when Phineas posed his question. Phineas pointed his chin at the miniature model building on the hill behind the school. "Do you recognize that place?"

"I've heard of it. I think many people think it's haunted or something." Richard replied. Before he could say anything else, an explosion of pain erupted in his skull. Richard swooned and was forced to brace himself against the edge of the desk.

"Hey there, Detective, you ok?" Phineas said with a hint of concern. "Are you going to make it?"

The searing pain began to subside a little, but the episode left Richard weak in his knees and feeling a chill across his body. Something about all this seemed familiar. He did know this man they were hunting. He could imagine the things he did.

"I need some air," Richard said. Phineas agreed and led the man through the school and back to the playground. Outside, Richard doubled over in pain, and waves of nausea and dizziness assaulted him. Richard fell to his hands and knees and retched.

After the spasms ceased, he stood on shaky legs and wiped the bile from his lips. Phineas stood by, looking out at the horizon. The moon made his tattoos seem to glow under its pale beams. Richard followed his gaze to a house on the hill behind the school.

Seemingly unconcerned with Richard's condition, Phineas began walking toward the house. Richard spit the last of the bitter contents of his guts out onto the playground asphalt.

Hyper-focused on his destination, Phineas strolled toward the abandoned house. Richard squinted past his tears and headache and saw the light coming from within the old home. Phineas must have been moving quicker than Richard thought. The slender man had already crossed half of the distance to the house.

"Didn't I tell you that this place was haunted?" Richard tried to slow Phineas with his words. Alarms started going off in his head for some reason. "Why the fuck would we go near that place?"

Before Richard could protest anymore, a wolf's baying split the night's quiet. Richard spun on his heels and nearly fell over from another wave of dizziness. In the distance, other howls replied to the call.

"Wolves? This is fucking Kansas! How are there wolves here?" Richard exclaimed. From within the shadows of the rows of corn, Richard saw hungry yellow eyes staring into him. He felt their hunger, almost hearing them drooling with anticipation of the hunt. Richard turned to run into the school, but the doors were locked.

"Fuck. Thatch! Phineas! Help!" Richard squealed. Richard began running furiously toward him, seeing that the man was not slowing. He could hear movement in those rows of corn now.

By the time he reached the front yard of the old home, his breath was ragged, and he felt a stabbing pain in his head and guts. He fell to his knees, breathless. Richard looked up and saw Phineas staring at the front door to the house.

"So this is where the boy is, huh?" Phineas said in a relieved voice.

Detective Richard Warren suddenly replied without thinking. "Please don't go in there."

"Why detective? Do you know this place?" Phineas replied without turning. "What's so terrifying about this quaint farm home?"

Richard was assaulted by memories of the abuse at his father's hands. The loneliness he felt. The shame when his parents found the pictures stuffed under his bed. He remembered how he screamed when they burned them and beat him.

Richard's chest wanted to explode as he remembered the first kill. The little girl he found walking home after school. How her blood turned black on his naked body under that pale full moon.

He had been so careful. How did they find him? Richard suddenly remembered the cop he bumped into at the convenience store. His photos spilled everywhere. The next thing Richard remembered was trying to run and then a gunshot.

"It seems to be coming back to you now," Phineas said with a smile. "Sorry for the theatrics. I needed you to remember the boy. I had to tamper with your memories to that end."

"What the fuck? This isn't me!" Richard said desperately. "I'm a cop, not some perverted janitor."

"Look for yourself," Phineas said, pointing to his polished shades. In those reflective pools, Richard saw himself- his true self. 

He wasn't wearing the coat and uniform of a cop. He was adorned in the dirty jumpsuit worn by janitors. His face was round and speckled in whisker-like hairs and a five-o-clock mustache. He was nearly bald, and what hair he had left was combed over in a sad attempt to hide his hair loss.

"No sir, you are not a cop. You are a piece of shit." Phineas said, looking over his specs. His eyes seemed to glow a pale blue light. "You have kidnapped, raped, photographed, and peddled those you preyed on. When you were done with them, you killed them."

“No…no…how did you do this?” Richard stammered.

"You are in a coma. The police found your photos and then went to your office. The school has been shut down for nearly a year, but that didn't keep you out." Phineas walked closer to Richard. "They found your online contacts and child pornography."

The howling of the wolves was close now. Richard jumped as he heard their songs from within the house's shadows. He turned to run but saw more of them bounding from shadow to shadow in the crops.

"What are those!? Please, I'll confess, I'll do anything. I swear it! Just don't leave me alone." Richard blubbered as he crawled on his hands and knees.

"Those are furies; come straight from hell for you," Phineas replied cooly. "they hunger for your soul."

"Look, the black boy, he's in the cellar. He's locked up in the freezer," Richard said, trying to trade information for his life.

"Thank you, Richard." The look on Phineas's face was one of feigned pity. "Unfortunately, the furies of hell are done waiting for their meal."

Another angry howl let loose from behind Richard, and he let loose his own howl. One of desperation and terror. Streams of tears and snot streaked his face as he charged past Phineas and to the house's front door.

Richard's meaty hand flung open the flimsy screen door and grabbed the door knob. Screaming, he turned the handle until he heard the familiar click of the tumblers and bolts. The door creaked open, and Phineas spoke just as he was about to enter his home. He turned to regard this strange man.

"Richard," Phineas said, his eyes staring hungrily, "welcome home."

Richard screamed again and turned to run into his home to find his path was blocked. A wall of oily, black fur roiled before him. Hungry yellow eyes flared within that mass, and sharp white fangs gleamed.

Richard didn't have time to scream as the tidal wave of hate and hunger rolled over him. He tried to fight off the hellhounds. He cried and begged for mercy as Phineas watched. Then, as quickly as they had struck, the hounds dragged Richard Warren into his haunted home to feast on his soul for eternity.

Phineas opened his eyes and found himself in the hospital room of the coma patient. He held a ruby medallion out and spent the last few hours muttering a language not heard for millennia.

FBI agent Hayes stood by the window watching him perform this strange ritual. He was promised this was the best way to get information on the missing victims. He prayed this wasn't a wild goose chase. He held a pad and pen, eager to put them to use, and stared at Phineas, waiting for his revelations.

"So? Did you get anything?" Hayes asked impatiently.

After taking a deep breath, Phineas gave Agent Hayes the school's name and the house's location. He also told him the whereabouts of the bodies they hadn't discovered. Dead that the FBI hadn't even known about.

"Mister Thatch, you came highly recommended, and I hope the rumors are true. I have to check out these leads." Agent Hayes said hurriedly. "Oh, can we keep this between us?"

"Of course, agent. I am known for my discretion, after all." Phineas chuckled grimly. "I'll take it to my grave."

With that, the agent ran out the door. Leaving Phineas with the patient. This man was now trapped in his body. A haunted house for his soul, filled with hellhounds and horrors. Phineas sincerely hoped Richard Warren lived for a very, very long time.

As he was about to leave the room, Phineas swore he heard a scream and the baying of wolves.