HARBINGER
Sean Danker-Smith
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Publisher’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.
Solstice Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com
Sean Danker-Smith 2012
Dedication
“This one’s for everybody who only hears from me when I need something.”
Chapter One
There is no graceful way to hit a spike strip. The Coronet struck it head on, front and rear tires blowing in quick succession, echoing like a pair of gunshots. The car lurched and grated to an uncomfortable stop a few yards into the curve, still mostly in the right lane.
A couple of long moments went by before Frank reached down and killed the engine. He’d been wearing his seatbelt, so aside from the jolt and the adrenaline, there hadn’t been any harm done. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, making sure his jacket covered the gun at his hip.
He looked up the road, then back the way he had come. There was nothing to indicate he wasn’t completely alone. To his right the mountainside was steep, covered with spindly, leafless trees. On the other side the ground fell away barely a yard from the guardrail. A few shreds of rubber marked the path of the Coronet from the strip to where it now rested.
The strip had been intended to come out of nowhere. It had been deliberately positioned at the curve, and only extended across the right lane, so a driver had to be on top of it before he knew it was there. Frank had been forced to choose between the tires and the car. He’d chosen the tires, because a swerve would have taken him down the mountain. The trees probably would have stopped him from tumbling all the way to the bottom, but you don’t roll a 1970 Coronet just to save a few Michelins. Especially when it’s not your car.
He looked down the road a second time. It curved away up the mountain, perfectly silent. He went to the spike strip and rattled it with the toe of his boot. It was the real thing; not the plywood and nails that kids might try. Law-enforcement grade material.
But no lawman had appeared. No sirens, nothing but the wind. This puzzled Frank; he didn’t think the strip had been placed for him. He supposed it wasn’t out of the question, but he couldn’t think of a reason for it. Nobody up here knew he was coming, or why. It had to be meant for someone else.
Either way, it didn’t bode well. He thought about dragging the strip off the road, but decided against it. It was the only thing that might keep the next person from coming around the curve and smashing into the Coronet, and Frank was more than willing to sacrifice someone else’s tires to protect Velvet’s car. There was a spare in the trunk, but that left him three short.
He’d tried his cell phone half an hour ago only to find it had no service, but he gamely checked a second time. No good. That didn’t leave a lot of options. He thought about the last signs he’d seen, and determined it would be better to go forward than back. Unless he was mistaken, he’d reach Condon Falls long before he got back to the pitiful little service station he’d passed nearly an hour ago. Walking in the mountains just before dark in the middle of December wasn’t Frank’s idea of a good time, but he didn’t see that he had any choice. At least it was a mild winter.
He started back toward the Coronet, but paused after just one step. He’d heard something. He looked over his shoulder, then at the trees. The sun was still out, more or less, but the tangled web of branches made it difficult to see much. It came again, and he turned his attention back to the car. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought the sound came from the Coronet itself.
In a few quick strides he was near enough to know with certainty that someone was in the trunk, thumping to be let out. He had to pause again, taken aback. In his lifetime Frank had encountered more than his share of surprises, and he handled them well, even when they came in force. Even so, he didn’t like the way this trip was starting.
He took his keys from his pocket and approached the car warily.
The kid was in the act of pulling back to pound on the trunk lid when he opened it. She froze. He froze. It was awkward. At last, Frank reached in and helped her out. That was awkward, too.
“Got anything to drink?” the kid croaked, finally. Feeling dazed, Frank got her a bottle of water from the back seat of the Coronet. The kid drank it down as though she’d been in the trunk a lot longer than a few hours.
Frank couldn’t recall if Velvet had ever told him her exact age. He thought she was probably seventeen or eighteen, but she didn’t look it. He tried to remember her name, but it wasn’t coming to him. They’d only met a couple of times. She was a little under average height. Sort of cute, in a mousy way. On the scrawny side. Some people would probably describe her as perky. Her dark hair was cut short, and it was a little disarrayed from the ride, which must have been pretty bumpy. She wore jeans and a thin, hooded sweatshirt.
Frank took off his jacket and held it out wordlessly as she began to shiver. The kid pulled it on gratefully, though it made her look even smaller than she was. He folded his arms and regarded her expectantly.
“Velvet made me,” she said quickly.
Frank arched an eyebrow.
The kid looked up at him and swallowed. “Well, she more like suggested it.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe even just strongly hinted.”
“Hinted that you should hide in my trunk?”
She rolled her shoulders and looked away. “Well, uh – you know. She was pretty clear that she didn’t like you coming out here by yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“Clear – you know. Really clear. Like wink wink, nudge nudge. She wanted me to come.”
Frank continued to stare.
“Look, she was really hinting. For real.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
“She wanted you to talk me into waiting until she was well enough to come, not come yourself.”
That hit her like a punch in the mouth. Frank could see it genuinely hadn’t occurred to her. She pulled herself together impressively quickly, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. “Interesting theory,” she said, stroking her chin. “More important, don’t you ever stop? For lunch or something? Being in there that long wasn’t the plan. Don’t you eat?”
Frank groaned and turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He took a second to collect himself, then pulled his duffel out of the Coronet and threw it at the kid.
“Let’s go.”
“Go?”
He pointed at the Coronet’s tires.
She blinked at them. “So that’s what that was. What the hell gives?”
“Good question.” Frank’s gaze fell on the spike strip yet again. “Something isn’t right.”
The kid struggled to get the heavy bag over one shoulder. “Where are we going?”
“Velvet didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“And that didn’t tip you off that stowing away wasn’t what she had in mind?”
The kid opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Where are we going?”
Frank started walking. “Condon Falls.”
“Never heard of it.” She hurried after him. “Where are we?”
“Washington.”
“Jesus Christ. How much did you speed?”
“I don’t speed. I drive fast.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t let me out earlier.”
“What?”
“The first time you stopped.”
She meant when he’d fueled up, about a hundred miles ago. “I didn’t even know you were back there.”
“I only banged on the thing for like half an hour.”
There had been a truck stop next to the highway. Frank hadn’t been able to hear himself think, much less anything else. “I didn’t notice.”
“The hell you didn’t. I’m hungry.”
“In the bag.”
Frank looked down at her as she unwrapped a stick of jerky and started to gnaw. She looked like a hamster. They walked in silence while she ate. The sun was low behind them now, and Frank saw dark clouds moving in from the east. He hoped they’d reach the town, or someone would drive along before the rain hit, but he wasn’t holding his breath. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d passed another car since getting off the highway.
“So what are you doing up here?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“You’re going back to Silver Bay as soon as we get to town. They’ll have a bus stop.”
“Like hell. I know you didn’t come out here for the scenery. Something’s up, or Velvet wouldn’t have been worried. Somebody’s got to watch your back.”
A gust of wind brought a flurry of dead leaves and debris across the road, and Frank deliberately stamped down, halting in his tracks. The kid looked back.
“What is it?” She mumbled, jaw still working on the jerky.
Frank knelt to pick up what he’d trapped under his boot. It was a brown wrapper covered in black print. He showed it to her. “MRE.”
“Who’d be eating those up here?”
Frank shrugged and tossed it away. “Survivalist types like these kinds of communities. They don’t have to deal with a lot of people.”
“Yeah, but don’t they want to save their MREs for after the apocalypse?”
“Maybe he’s getting into the spirit of things.” Frank squinted at the trees in the gathering dark.
“Think he spiked the car?”
“Anything’s possible.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“We might be. Speed up. Here, give me that.” He took the bag, and they began to walk more quickly.
“How much further?”
“Less than thirty miles.”
She looked up at him as though trying to determine whether or not he was kidding. “What the hell kind of answer is that?”
“The last sign I saw said thirty miles. I don’t know how far back that was.”
“Oh.”
There were a couple minutes of silence before the kid began to press him again, but she stopped abruptly when they found the car. It had been hastily pulled onto the shoulder. The driver’s door was standing open, but the engine was off. The car belonged to the Condon Falls Sheriff’s Department.
Frank touched the hood. The engine was cold. One stretch of this lonely road looked much like another, and there was still no sign of anyone. They were less than two miles from the spike strip, but that was still too far. If this deputy had been waiting to catch someone, they would have been positioned much closer.
“What’s going on here?” The kid sounded nervous, and rightly so. “Does this have to do with why we’re out here?”
“I don’t know,” Frank replied, meaning it. “Keep a lookout.” He set the bag on the hood and got into the squad car for a closer look. There wasn’t much to see. The interior was very clean. Nothing in the backseat. There was a mount for a shotgun between the seats, but it was empty.
Frank could picture the car pulling off the road, and the deputy grabbing the shotgun and taking off in such a hurry that he left the door standing wide open.
He got out and crossed the road to look down the embankment. There was nothing to see but dirt and leaves, remnants of scrubby bushes, and a whole forest of eerily bare trees.
“What do you want to do?”
Frank thought about it. “Let’s wait for him to come back.” He leaned against the hood of the car. “I want to ask him about those spikes.”
“This is kind of creeping me out.”
“That’ll teach you to stow away.”
“I never want to see the inside of a trunk again.”
“You’re handling it well.”
“Small spaces don’t bother me.”
“You’re a weird kid.”
She made a face at him. “Come on – tell me what you’re doing out here. What could you and Velvet possibly want in a place like this?”
Frank didn’t hear the question. What he did hear was the distant cawing of crows. He could see them, too. Big ones, wheeling across the darkening sky. “Look there.”
“Birds.”
“Yeah.” He moved away from the car, then looked back, conflicted. “Stay here.”
“Are you kidding?”
“What? No – you’re right. Damn.” He didn’t want to miss the deputy – but he had a bad feeling about this. “Come on.” He shouldered the bag and stepped over the guardrail.
“Is this a good idea?” The kid followed, picking her way carefully down the slope. “It’s almost dark. We could break our necks.”
“It’ll even out down here.” Frank took the flashlight from his bag, and clicked it on. “Watch your step.” The footing was treacherous, and made worse by the half light of dusk, but Frank’s instincts told him he needed to know what so many crows were this excited about in this cold.
He had undertaken the trip to Condon Falls without any real expectation of finding anything. So much for that. It was a long, uncomfortable climb down, but Frank’s instinct had been right.
The body was sprawled at the foot of a skeletal willow. The dead, drooping limbs rustled in the wind, the ends dragging through the loam.
Crows lined the trees all around, and now that they were so close, their cawing was uncomfortably loud. Frank and the kid stood at the edge of the clearing, the beam of the flashlight illuminating the corpse.
“This has long night written all over it.”
“Not cool,” the kid said, after a lengthy silence.
“You aren’t going to get sick, are you?”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good. Hold this.”
“What are you doing?” She took the light and followed Frank toward the body. The man was on his back, dressed in rugged jeans and a heavy coat. Frank went down on one knee, and the kid tried to keep the light where it would be useful.
Frank took out a pen and probed at a bloodstained patch of the coat. “Probably about in his forties, you think?”
The kid swallowed as Frank grabbed the man’s sleeve with both hands. “Yeah. What are you doing?”
“Just looking.”
“You shouldn’t touch it.”
Frank turned to look up at her, then pointed one finger at the trees teeming with crows. “How much do you think they’re going to leave for the cops?”
It looked like the kid hadn’t really needed that mental imagery. She turned away, grimacing. Frank partially rolled the body to get a look at the back. He saw what he’d been afraid of, scowled, and let the body settle back into place. He started patting the man’s pockets.
“What killed him?”
“Somebody shot him. Double tap, right in the center of mass.” Probably with a 223 if the exit wounds were anything to go by. “Very clean. He was dead before he hit the ground. No wallet, no ID.” He sighed.
“Frank.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you see his foot?”
“No. Put the light on it.”
“I am.”
Frank followed her gaze. The kid had a point. The body’s left foot was gone; nothing but a ragged stump remained. He gazed at it for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Something took a bite out of him.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Frank was impressed; the kid was holding it together pretty well in the face of a lot of concentrated strangeness. Maybe Velvet was right about her. “I’d like to know what.”
“Probably a wolf.” Frank went back to rifling the corpse’s pockets.
“There are wolves up here?”
“Of course.” He frowned, drawing his hand out of the front coat pocket. Brass gleamed in his palm. “45 Long Colt. Don’t see that every day.”
“Are those bullets?”
“Yes.”
“Has he got a gun?”
“Not that I can see, but it could be anywhere.” The loam was several inches deep; something as heavy as a pistol would sink right in and be lost to sight.
“Do wolves just come and start chewing on people? How long has he been here?”
“I think he was killed today, probably. Beyond that, I don’t know, not in this weather. He’s almost frozen. The ground probably soaked up most of the blood.” Frank turned and looked off into the darkness. “Probably shot from that way, but it could have been from any distance. There’s a lot of forest out here.”
“Wolves? Seriously?”
“Yes.” Frank straightened, taking the flashlight from her and shining it around the clearing. “Wolves will nibble a body. I’m surprised they didn’t take more.”
“I thought wolves didn’t attack people.”
“Not often,” Frank replied distractedly, stepping past her and sweeping one toe through the loam. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. “But they do. Not suddenly, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”