Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (44 page)

He flicked it on, the beam illuminating the trunk’s interior.
Hah, a break.
The light lit upon a large black shaft. Jack reached in, pulling the bar out. Upon closer inspection it was apparent that the top several inches were covered with dried blood. Instinctively, Jack dropped it back down.
What the hell, how many people has this maniac hurt or killed? I’ve got to stop him.

Reaching back in, Jack pulled the tire iron back out with a grimace. Turning, he looked around and then slipped over the low wrought-iron fence that surrounded the graveyard.

His approach was simple; the Wong family was prominent and wealthy. Therefore it stood to reason that one of the large crypts would belong to them. Using this method, he had spent the last twenty minutes in this creepy place with no success. He could feel the tension rising through his body. The plan was becoming more and more urgent in his mind.
An hour this way or that isn’t going to make a difference at this point. Why can’t I just stay calm about it? Yeah, that’s easy enough to think but tough to do.

Just then a bird crowed loudly, causing Jack’s head to swivel in that direction. His heart raced for a moment before he realized the noise was nothing more than an ordinary crow.
Shit, this place can really mess with your mind.

*    *    *

Steve had commandeered Liam’s car after shooting him and Sam. The vehicle had provided him with an expedient way to exit the crime scene. Having awoken from the fall and not finding Jack’s body, Steve had come up with a new set of priorities. First, get the hell away from the old mill, and second, find Jack and kill him.

He smiled to himself; locating Jack was going to be easy thanks to technology.
Man, I love this stuff. Who would have thought that the anti-theft tracking device I put on the Duesenberg would be useful for more than just recovering the car?

Steve had retrieved the tracking unit from his apartment and was now using it to hone in on Jack’s location.
It’s not going to be long now, asshole,
he thought as the screen indicated that the target was only about another mile away.

*    *    *

Finally a break, there in front of him stood the object of his search, the Wong mausoleum. The dark grey structure was large and foreboding standing there rigidly locked in his flashlight beam. The words “Wong Family” were carved in the granite above the entrance. On the door itself was some additional lettering in what Jack could only assume was some type of Chinese script. He started to step towards the door, tire iron at the ready.
The symbols I can’t read are probably a curse or something. Ha, right, I have been watching way too many movies.

As if in answer to his thoughts thunder boomed and the rain began to pour down like a monsoon.  This sudden change caused Jack to freeze mid-step in his tracks. He already wasn’t feeling good about the whole grave robbing thing, but this was like some kind of bad omen.

*    *    *

Steve pulled up behind his Duesenberg and scowled. The rain was beating down hard.
That’s a five hundred thousand dollar car, the least the bastard could’ve done is put the top up.
Turning his head right the cemetery filled his vision, a smile replacing the scowl.
A graveyard, how fitting, just the place to kill someone and find the medallion. This will make for a no-hassle cleanup.
Steve got out of the car and jumped the fence. After several large strides into the darkened necropolis, he pulled out his gun. Thunder boomed again overhead, and lightning lit up the sky.
I couldn’t ask for a more perfect night. If I time things right, the thunder will cover up the gunshot.

Steve continued forward, glancing around excitedly each time the lightning illuminated the scene. The rain continued coming down in buckets, making it difficult to see much.
Damn it, I have to find that bastard.

*    *    *

Mustering up his nerve, Jack stepped forward again. Sticking the pointed end of the tire iron into the door jamb, he gave the door a hesitant nudge. Nothing happened, which was what he expected. He felt half relived and half irritated with himself for not throwing more into the process.
Come on, buck up. Just pretend you’re a prominent archeologist or something.

This time he threw his whole back into the effort. He could just make out a concrete scraping noise before more thunder boomed and lightning danced across the night sky once again. Taking a deep breath Jack pushed again with more fortitude. He had a strong feeling that this time the door was going to pop.

With another grating groaning noise the door inched hesitantly open. A few more shoves and the entryway was open wide enough to squeeze in. Stopping, Jack bent down and picked up his flashlight.

*    *    *

Hah, there’s the bastard. Plug him now or let him do the dirty work and find the medallion. Yeah, I think I’ll opt for him to find it.
Steve snuck ever closer, squinting through the rain that was pouring down, watching Jack enter the tomb. The grave markers made for perfect cover as Steve moved in on his prey.
How perfect, a readymade grave, I’ll just make sure the son of a bitch never leaves there.

*    *     *

Jack pressed forward through the large musty- smelling structure, his flashlight beam bouncing off ornate carvings, creating all types of eerie shadows. His heart was racing now. He had jumped several times at the appearance of shadows or the rumble of thunder. He wasn’t at all sure where to look or what to do next. Perhaps if he could get control of himself and concentrate, he could figure it out. He stopped closing his eyes and took some deep breaths.
Just relax,
he told himself.
What would I do if I was in Tim’s position? Where would I put the medallion?
Jack stood there quietly, breathing deeply, trying to work this new train of thought. He was doing a fairly good job of tuning out his surroundings. Only occasional claps of thunder were penetrating his conscious now.
Tim probably felt just like me, scared and not happy about being in someone’s tomb. So he would have stayed away from caskets. Not much you can do with the walls, too obvious. The cipher mentioned finding the medallion is like turning a corner. That had to have a double meaning.

Jack’s eyes popped open.
Of course, the floor, he put it under the floor off in one of the corners.
He moved forward letting his gut feeling guide him. Kneeling down, Jack examined the far corner of the tomb. The floor was made up of many stones fit snugly together, but one appeared to have more of a gap between it and its brethren.

Leaning the flashlight up against the wall, he took the pointed end of the tire iron and began to work the edges of the tile. The mortar flaked out with ease. Jack began to grow excited. He could just sense this was definitely the spot. He could feel some of his earlier doubts falling away.

Now or never, he thought, jamming the tire iron into the crevice and heaving downward to create leverage. The stone tile popped up with shocking ease. The gaping recess revealed a small dull-colored canvas apparently wrapped around something.

Jack’s hand shot into the void, grabbing the burlap. He quickly unwound the wrap and found himself holding the medallion he had been seeking. The hideous dragon on the piece stared back at him menacingly, but it wasn’t the dragon’s piercing eyes that scared him. No, it was the ones he could suddenly feel boring through the back of his head. Mustering all his strength, Jack whipped around from his crouched position in the corner like a sprinter coming out of the starting blocks for a big race.

Staying low, he powered forward, legs pumping, arms swinging madly. Steve barely had a chance to finish saying “Bravo” before Jack plowed into him full on. Jack’s momentum sent the two of them flying backwards in an awkward kind of roll, slamming the side of the tomb wall at an angle and continuing to slide across the floor.

Jack was wishing it hadn’t had to turn out like this. Thoughts raced through his mind.
I wish I could have stopped this thing before it began back in 1929. No better yet,
but before he could finish his next thought the hand holding the medallion began to tingle, then twitch like he had hit an open electrical line. No more thoughts entered Jack’s brain as he felt himself being ripped away.

Chapter 31

His head swam as he took in the sounds of jazz music blaring off to his right. His eyes were accosted by heavy smoke as he gazed around the bar. 
What the fuck happened to me? Ohh shit, I wished when I was rolling and...

Before he could finish that thought a rather large gentleman in a fancy old-fashioned suit grabbed him by the front of the shirt and lifted him up from the wall he was lying against. “Had a little too much, haven’t you, buddy,” he said in a gruff but friendly voice. “Well, it’s time to go.”

“Wait Mr., what’s the date?”

“You really have had way too much. It’s September 21
st
. Now let’s get your drunken ass out of this respectable gin joint. Frankly, dressed the way you are, I’m not sure how you got in here in the first place.”

“No, I mean what year is it?”

The bouncer just smiled at him. “Come on, you joker. There’s always an idiot in every crowd and it looks like I just found tonight’s.”

His senses clearing, Jack was beginning to get a little pissed off at this guy, “Listen, just tell me the date and I’m outta your hair.”

Any congenial attitude the bouncer might have started with disappeared. “Nobody tells me what to do! Now let’s go before it gets ugly.” The bouncer grabbed Jack by the upper right arm with a grip that felt like a vice and started shoving him towards the door.

Jack was in no mood for this and began to curl his left hand into a fist. He was just about to start swinging when another gentleman walked up.

“That’s enough, Bruno, let him go,” the man said, before staring at Jack strangely as if entranced by him.

Jack shook his arm loose roughly from the grudging fingers of the bouncer. He stared back in amazement at the man that had just arrived.
The man is the fuckn’ image of Steve. It is Steve, no, it can’t be. He didn’t have time to change and he wouldn’t be this cordial.

The stranger spoke in a very smooth familiar voice, “Don’t I know you? You seem so familiar to me and then again no. I never forget a face.” He let his last sentence trail off, as he squinted and continued staring at Jack.

Jack screwed on his best poker face and replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before, but thanks for helping me out.” On that note Jack turned and started walking for the door. He could feel the stranger’s eyes on the back of his head. He heard the man whisper something.
Never mind, just get the hell out of this place and figure out what is going on later.
Jack deliberated
. This can’t be what it seems.

He found himself in a dimly lit hallway. Jack walked down the corridor and opened the door at the end. This in turn led into a store front that was stocked with all kinds of crazy clothes from the twenties.  Jack looked around in amazement.
Holy crap, this thing is for real.

*    *    *

Steve rubbed his head, opening his eyes and trying to focus.
What the hell, I was going to kill Jack and then… Yeah, that’s it; the bum charged and tackled me. Why didn’t he finish the job, wait a second.
His surroundings became clear. He was leaning against a whiskey barrel, one of many, in some back storeroom.
This is my storeroom back in the twenties!! Son of a bitch, that little bastard, it can’t be possible. I used the damn medallion once already, but he hadn’t. Being tangled up with him must have done it. This is just fucking ridiculous; I need to get back to the god-damn future. I don’t belong here anymore. I’m going to kill that son of a bitch slowly and then get the hell out of here.

Leaning on the barrel, Steve agonizingly tried to get to his feet. He felt dizzy, his head throbbing. Rubbing it, he felt a large knot on the back where he had hit the tomb wall. He sat back down and cradled his head in his hands.

*    *    *

Jack walked slowly through the clothing shop, trying not to draw anymore unwanted attention. When he got to the front, he couldn’t contain himself from bursting out the front door. The bright sunlight hit him; squinting, he began to look around in amazement. Old-fashioned cars were zipping up and down the street. The kind of vehicles you only ever saw one or two of in a museum.

The people walking up and down the street were dressed rather fancy. The men were all wearing suits complemented with matching hats, and the women all had on dresses of varying styles.
This just can’t be. I was going to get the medallion and go back just a few days, not this.
Suddenly, Jack felt a dull ache in his right hand. Realizing he was still clutching the medallion tightly in his palm, he lifted his arm up, turning his hand over, and slowly opened up his fingers. There it was, the source of all this troubles. 

Closing his fingers back over it, Jack wished to go back to the future. This produced a dull aching sensation that began working its way up his arm. He abruptly stopped wishing, shoving the accursed medallion into his front jeans pocket, and proceeded down the street with no logical destination in mind.

People hurried by him on their way from here to there. Narrowing his eyes, he walked down the bright bustling street searching for any sign of familiarity. The sounds and smells that assaulted his senses seemed so foreign. This plan was not turning out at all like he had imagined. Jack remembered the old phrase his father used to say ‘life is what happens when you’re making plans’. How true, how very true that statement always turned out to be, especially this time. If only he had been able to go back just a few days in time like he had intended to.
How the hell am I going to get myself out of this jam?

He continued down the block with no particular course of action in mind. His eyes constantly scanning these new strange surroundings, he tried to make things fit into his paradigm. That’s when he spotted a very familiar-looking face. It was a countenance he had never seen before, yet Jack felt sure he’d know it anywhere. The man walking towards him strongly resembled Rene. He felt sure this had to be the lost Tim Bartington Landers, owner of the journal.
Maybe fate doesn’t have it in for me after all. What are the odds?

He grabbed the gentleman softly by the upper arm before he could pass by. “Excuse me sir, I need a few minutes of your time.”

The man stared at him, taking in Jack’s clothing which didn’t exactly fit the time period. His expression changed from nervous-looking to compassionate.

Jack noted that it was the same expression Rene wore when showing empathy. How strikingly alike father and daughter looked!

The man spoke hurriedly glancing around cautiously, “What do you want from me?”

“Is your name Tim Landers? I need to know the truth; this is a matter of life or death.”

The man started to speak and then hesitated as if reconsidering his answer. “You already know the answer to that question! You’re just trying to confirm it.” Again he surveyed the surroundings tensely. This time it was obvious the guy saw something he didn’t like.

Jack started to turn and look, but before he could the man had grabbed his arm, herding him in the opposite direction towards the street corner.

The gentleman talked quietly out of the side of his mouth, “Don’t look back and come with me. There is an evil man following us and it wouldn’t be good for either of us if he were to see us talking.”

He hustled them along and just around the corner to where his car was parked. “Get in,” the man said, his voice wavering slightly.

Jack hesitated, trying to decide if this was the right course of action.

Upon seeing his shilly-shallying the man spoke again, very softly this time. “Yes, to answer your earlier question, I’m Tim Landers.”

*    *    *

Steve had gotten a glimpse of his target just a moment before.
What the hell? Of course that fucker would run smack dab into Tim.
Steve reached around his back to draw his gun, only then realizing he must have lost it in the previous struggle.
Son of a…

Steve found himself being shoved roughly to the side, colliding with a well-dressed gentleman that had been about to walk by. The man began to complain, but Steve had already regained his balance and reeled around ready to dole out some payback for this outrage.

Before Steve could stop himself, his fist met solidly with the assailant’s lip. The man was caught completely unaware and was knocked backward off his feet, hitting the sidewalk hard. In the process the gun he was holding came loose from his grip and went skittering across the concrete.

At that precise second, Steve’s lip began to throb in pain. He reached up to it, feeling the warm blood beginning to trickle. Steve was dumbfounded by what he was seeing. Sitting up from a sprawled position on the sidewalk was himself, or rather Charles, his previous persona.
Great, just great, I cold cocked myself.

The guy was staring back at him in utter astonishment. It wasn’t clear to Steve if the bewildered look came from being assaulted or by seeing his better- looking mirror image. Steve was bigheaded for being much more muscular and fit currently.

The roaring of a car engine snapped Steve out of his trance. He saw Jack and Tim making a hasty escape. Taking a sudden lunging step, he scooped up the gun Charles had dropped. With another swift motion, he was on the curb blasting off a couple shots at the fleeing vehicle.

One of the shots hit a taillight, shattering it and sending pieces of glass into the street. The second shot thumped solidly into the rear mounted trunk doing no real damage.

Son of a bitch!
Staring down the street, he noticed a woman a short distance away loading some packages into a parked car. Steve sprinted down the block, snatching her car keys from her white gloved hand and shoving her roughly aside. Jumping into the car, he fired up the engine and jammed the accelerator to the floor hard. The car leapt noisily away from the curbstone, the woman’s screams fading into the background.

Jack and Tim had somewhat of a lead on him, but this car was a better model. Steve had no doubt that he would catch up to them expeditiously.

*    *    *

Tim sped along nervously, checking his mirrors for any sign of pursuit. So far nothing, but Tim knew better than to write Charles off. The man didn’t give up when he wanted something, and this time was unlikely to be an exception. Taking a momentary break from the task at hand, Tim questioned Jack, “I need to know exactly how you got here, although I have a pretty good idea.”

“I used the medallion the same as you. I did it on purpose, sort of,” Jack paused for a moment. “Unlike you, I got the impression from your journal that you didn’t plan on winding up in the past.”

“If you knew that much, why in the hell did you come back here?”

Jack started to answer, but before he could spit out a word the car was jolted hard from behind. Jack turned and saw that Steve was in the car behind them, a menacing smile spread across his face.

Tim swung a hard right, the automobile shaking violently as it rounded the corner much too fast for conditions.

They shot out ahead for the moment as Steve missed the turn, swinging wide and riding up onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.

“Charles, that bastard, is hot on our heels.”

“What ya mean Charles, that’s Steve; he accidentally came with me from the future.”

Tim looked confused for a second as the car sped on. The picture was starting to take shape in his mind, and it wasn’t a pretty one. Fumbling in his coat pocket, Tim pulled out a revolver and handed it to Jack. “Have you ever shot one of these? I’m crap with it standing still, much less driving. If he gets any closer, stop him.”

Jack looked at the weapon, wondering how the situation had come to this. He was instantly knocked out of his trance as a shot rang out, shattering the rear window. The noise was deafening as glass shards flew everywhere throughout the car.

Twisting to shoot back, he felt a warm trickle running down the side of his neck. He cracked off the first shot just as Tim yanked the car into a hard left, narrowly missing another car coming through the intersection at the same time.

The turn caused Jack’s shot to stray wide left, hitting the corner wall of a nearby brick building. “Crap, son of a bitch, if I’m going to shoot at him you’ve got to let me know before pulling a maneuver like that. I don’t want to hit an innocent bystander.”

Tim grunted out a perfunctory, “You’re right!” continuing to concentrate on his driving.

Steve came sailing through the intersection, his Ford scraping heavily against another car before completing the corner. The noise the two cars made was like nails on a chalkboard.
Damn it, that was too close, my ears are ringing. You sons of bitches are not getting away from me now!
He reached his left hand out the window, squeezing off another shot. He watched the slug hit low, taking out the remaining taillight of his quarry.

Jack cringed as he heard the bullet slamming into the back of their car. “Can’t this piece of shit go any faster?”