Private Journal of Doctor Jack Tyler December 29th, 2012 "The Haircut" - Part III

      I frowned at my grandfather saying, "Hey, my hair isn't that long.

   "No, but it looks like the last time it was cut someone took a weed-whacker to it," he grunted and gestured at the seat. "So which of you mop-tops is going to be first?"

     "Mop-Top?" Darlene repeated, scrunching up her face in such a way it was clear she didn't know whether to be amused or confused.

     Luckily Cheryl came to her rescue, "That was a popular way of describing men with long hair back in the 60's. I think it started when the Beatles came here to the United States for the first time." Here she paused and studied me for a moment and then added, "You just need to look at your father to get a good idea of how long their hair was back then."

     My offspring gave me an appraising stare and then shook her head. "They considered that long? Looks more he's losing some..."

     "That'll do," I cut in giving her a look that once upon a time would strike terror into her heart. Now all it did was earn me a mischievous grin. Sigh... they grow up fast and much harder to intimidate these days. 

     Meanwhile, Nathan had hopped into the barber's chair, much to my grandfather's satisfaction. Especially when Nathan started asking him about the NY Mets.

     "That bunch of bums!" granddad snarled, while tying the styling cape around Nathan's neck, "Don't get me started. And why are you bringing them up? This isn't baseball season."

     "My point exactly," Nathan replied cheerfully, "If they play during the off season they might actually find someone they can beat. Maybe a girl's softball team for instance."

     Darlene immediately jumped in saying, "You've got to be kidding. We'd mop the floor with those losers, any day of the year."

     "You tell 'im," granddad smiled and turned back to Nathan, "She gets that from my side of the family."

     "And mine!" added my grandmother pointedly. Then she turned to Cheryl and said in a stage-whisper, "He'll never admit it, but he always loved the fact that I wouldn't put up with his nonsense."

     "Like hell," granddad shot back, "I married you because no one else was willing to try to straighten you out so you'd behave more like a lady."  

     "And how did that work out for you?" Nathan asked innocently.

     Granddad glared at him for a second then murmured something about, "Gimme time. I'm still working on it." 

     I was about to comment how he'd already been working on her for almost 70 years, when I noticed my son Joe picking up an old photo album off the table. "Be careful with that," I told him, "That contains some priceless pictures in it."

     Naturally he gave me a skeptical look. "Dad, you say that about all the albums at home and it's just filled with pictures of us when we growing up."

     Looking up into the mirror, granddad saw which book Joe was holding and said, "Memories of family will be more precious than you'll ever know one day. But that's not what's in that book. Those are photos, most of them signed, by some of my favorite customers from over the years. Go ahead and take a peek, you might recognize one or two faces."

     Obligingly, my son did as he was told and immediately his eyes widened at the first image he came across. "Cary Grant!" he cried.

         

     "You're kidding?" his sister gasped and went over to see for herself. 

     Meanwhile, Granddad got to work on Nathan and was saying, "Really nice fella. Great head of hair. Loved working on it and passing the time with him. How old was he when you first brought him to my shop?"

      Nathan had to think for a moment. "Let's see, he was still pretty new in the vaudeville circuit when I met him. I'd say he was just eighteen at the time."

     "That's what I thought," Granddad nodded, "Always stopped in for a shave or a haircut whenever he came to town too." 

     Meanwhile Darlene had turned the next page in the album and started frowning. "Who's the funny-looking guy with the big nose? Was he famous too?"

      "Let me see," Nana told her and went to take a peek. After a moment she smiled, "Oh, that's Jimmy."

     "Which one, Stewart or the other one?" asked Granddad looking up from his work.

      Nana shook her head at him, "Did Jimmy Stewart ever have a big nose?"

     Suddenly, Nathan leapt out of the chair and swung around. His nose had grown considerably as he started talking fast in a raspy, jolly voice. "Who's got a big nose? Madam I'll have you know this schnozzola has given me the world's most memorable profile. It even got me into Guiness just last year."

     I quickly jumped in. "You're in the Guiness Book of World Records?"
     "Nah," Nathan replied in the same voice, "Any chump can into that old waste of paper. Nah, it got me into the Guinness brewery and straight into one of their vats. And lemme tell ya, it weren't full when I fell in, but it was plenty empty when I got out. Ha-cha-cha-cha."

     My son Joe, who had been frowning as if in deep thought, suddenly spoke up. "I know that voice. That's the guy who was the narrator from the 'Frosty the Snowman' cartoon."

     "Hey, that's right," his sister agreed. "And the cartoon version of him did have a big nose just like that." 

    "Dat's right kids, and lemme tell ya. They still didn't do it justice," Nathan continued in Mr. Durante's voice. "Why just the other day I..."

     At that point, Granddad grabbed Nathan by the arm and made him sit back in the chair. Of course this didn't stop the rush of jokes coming out of his client. In fact it wasn't until he pulled out the hot towel and placed it over the comedian's face that the dialogue became more muffled, but not completely silent.

    From then on, the rest of us continued going through the album marveling at the number of famous folks who Granddad had had the pleasure of working on over the years. Nathan helped supply some visuals to the proceedings, much to everyone's amusement and delight. 

    When Granddad finished with Nathan, Joe was more than willing to sit in the chair next and get his hair cut. Not that he really needed it, but by this time he was eager to hear more of namesake's stories. In the meantime I sat back and waited my turn in the chair. It was great seeing my kids really connecting with their great-grandparents. Like Granddad said earlier, memories about family were priceless and at that moment, I was wishing I had my phone out taking pictures. But I didn't, because Nathan had already grabbed it and was shooting away. 

    I later found out, both he and Cheryl had videotaped some of the exchanges and nonsense that followed. It was a great visit, but what made me the happiest was on the way home both Darlene and Joe asked when we were going to visit again. 

     We made a lot of memories tonight and all because of a simple haircut.

     

    - The End

Private Journal of Doctor Jack Tyler December 29th, 2012 "The Haircut" - Part II

            Darlene rolled her eyes at her brother and sighed, “I don’t know why he’d need a haircut. Does it really matter?” Then before he could answer, I saw her expression change. “Actually, that is a pretty good question. Dad…?

            Holding up my hands I said, “Don’t ask me, I’m just here for Nana’s cookies and hot chocolate.” I wasn’t about to admit that I’d never really thought about it myself.

            Just then Nathan, who was not three feet away, turned to my grandmother saying, “You know I could’ve sworn I’d walked in with a bunch of people, was I just imagining things? Or did I suddenly turn invisible?”

            I watched her pat his arm and say, “No, you’re just getting to that age when everyone thinks you’ve gone deaf or your mind has gone wandering and you aren’t paying attention. I get that a lot.”

           “Not from me!” I called out loudly.

           Nathan looked around, “Did you hear something?”

           “Aw it’s just this old house creaking, or my joints, one or the other,” Nana told him.

           “Must be the house,” he assured her. “I told your dad when he was building it to use hickory but as he pointed out it was more expensive and harder to get here in Connecticut.”

           Nana laughed as she led us down the hallway.

There was an old barber pole on the wall, next to the door that led downstairs.

My grandfather had been the town’s barber for over sixty-five years, before he finally ‘retired’. The shop was still in business but being run by one of my cousins who specialized in not only classic haircutting, but the more modern ‘faded’ style as well. I myself spent a lot of time in grand-dad’s shop when I was a boy and people often thought I’d follow in his footsteps. In reality, I was studying how he interacted with his customers since he always had a way with them. I learned an awful lot about putting people at ease and drawing them out from watching him, which has been a great asset to my medical practice.

I slipped past Nathan as we reached the door to offered Nana my arm which she accepted, then we all headed downstairs.

“Here we go through ‘Dr Who’s Tardis’ again,” I heard my son Joe murmuring behind me, only to be shushed by his sister saying, “Oh, shut up, I like that show.”

“That’s just because you think the current one is cute,” he shot back.

Glancing over my shoulder I saw Darlene make a face, “Ew… I’ll take David Tennant over him any day of the week. I mostly like the companions, especially Amy…”

At that point Nana chimed in with, “I still prefer Tom Baker myself.”

That earned several groans from the rest of us, although deep down I had to admit she had a point. He was a master of comic timing and seriousness when it came to the role of the Doctor. I would’ve said more but we’d just reached the bottom of the stairs and my grandfather’s ‘shop’.

Even though my dad, Nathan, and I helped set the place up for him, I always found myself transported back to my childhood every time I came down here.

One wall of the room was dominated by a large mirror, with shelving covered by numerous barber implements, stood before two chairs that had come from the shop itself. There was also a small flatscreen television staring down from above the mirror. In short, there were also other chairs and tables around the room, but to all intent and purposes, the place was a mini-barber shop. This had been my grandmother’s idea after a number of former clients kept pestering her husband for haircuts because he was the only one who knew how they liked their hair done. Plus, they missed having their regular bull sessions with him.

But most of all, she knew my grandad missed keeping busy.

My grandfather was lounging in the older of the two chairs, when we came down. Getting out of one of the chair, where he'd been reading the paper, he stood up. "About time you got here Nathan, I was about to..." he began then spotted me and my family. "Oh good, lord you brought the entire crew with you. Looks like I've got my work cut out for me tonight."

TO BE CONTINUED...

*Author's Note: Sorry for the short entry. I was working on it this past weekend and had to go to get some routine lab work done (which took a couple of hours... groan). Plus family and a bad cold took more out of me.  Didn't want to leave you all with nothing, so I figured a short entry was better than nothing, especially when I'm trying to do at least at two entries a month. To be concluded in two weeks... unless the story decides it wants to be longer.

Private Journal of Doctor Jack Tyler December 29th, 2012 "The Haircut" - Part I

Cheryl and I took our kids, Joe and Darlene, to visit my grandparents at their home this evening. They only live on the other side of town, but with the snow on the ground walking with two teenagers grumbling the whole time would've tested the patience of saint. It never ceases to amaze me how after spending all day out in the cold with their friends, our children can be all set to head outside once more in spite of the dropping temperature as soon as they finish eating dinner. Their energy and enthusiasm seems limitless. At least, until we remind them they're supposed to go somewhere with us.

In that moment, all life seems to suddenly evaporate from their bodies and they're too tired to go anywhere. Or they've just remembered an important paper they need to do for school which requires them to stay home, and maybe have a friend or two over to assist them in their research. It is a condition that we in the medical profession have yet to fully analyze and come up with a name for it. I have on more than one occasion considered preparing a paper on this phenomenon for publication. However, the thought of spending hours trying get teenagers, who are NOT mine therefore I have no authority over them, to answer even the simplest of questions quickly cures me of such urges.

Well, after reminding them of how often they'd assured us that they were fully caught up on all their schoolwork, and that we'd discussed the visit several times earlier in the week, they finally went to fetch their coats. I swear it was like watching a the old television series, "The Six Million Dollar Man" or "The Bionic Woman", where the heroes are filmed in slow motion when they're supposed to be moving inhumanly fast. Only in my kids case they really were moving that slow, it took them almost a full fifteen minutes just to find their coats and another five to put them on.

Anyway, we finally got them out the door and on the road. We were just pulling up to my grandparents place, when we saw a familiar figure knocking on their front door. It was Nathan.

From the backseat I heard Joe say, "Since when does he know Great-Nana and Great Pop-Pop?"

"Um... I don't know, maybe because he's been watching over our family for generations like he told us back in September," Darlene shot back, in a sweet-sarcastic tone only a sibling can deliver. A second later, she was out of the car dodging snowballs from her brother who'd raced after her.

All of this happened before I'd even killed the engine of the car, leaving me once more to ponder that paper about energy levels in teens. Perhaps I could just try an observational study? I turned to Cheryl who I noticed already her seatbelt unbuckled but hadn't even opened the door on her side. "Is something wrong?" I asked her.

Turning she gave me a look of disbelief. "I'm not going out into the middle of those two having a snowball fight."

A second later, a rogue snowball struck the window, followed by a muffled, "Sorry Mom," from our son Joe. His aim has never been great when it comes to throwing, which is why he's never made it onto the school baseball team. Darlene on the other hand has a wicked throwing arm from two seasons on the softball team. Which she proceeded to demonstrate by nailing her brother while he was a distracted.

Joe quickly retaliated with a rare well-aimed shot at his sister, who barely managed to dodge the attack unlike my grandmother who had just come out onto the steps to greet all of us.

Thank God Nathan was right there. He could've easily just caught the snowball, but it would've exploded in his hand, showering Nana in the process and he knew it. So he good-naturedly stepped in front of her and took the hit, which almost knocked the long stocking cap off his head. I saw him say something to my grandmother and then he turned on my offspring yelling in his Groucho Marx  voice, "Of course you realize, this means war!"

However, before he could reach down to grab some snow, Nana tapped him on the shoulder and said something to him. Of course I couldn't hear from inside the car, but I saw him straighten up and give a dramatic sigh indicating hostilities would remain on hold.

At that point, Cheryl finally opened her car door and stepped out. I quickly followed and joined her and our children who were already greeting their great-grandmother.

Nathan was standing respectfully to the side and I joined him.

"Nice kids you got there, Jack," he remarked, still in his Groucho voice. Taking off his hat and shaking the snow from it, he continued, "Attacking bystanders like that. What's this world coming to? Don't answer, I'll tell you what it's coming to..."

I was thankfully spared the rest of his performance by Nana's voice calling out, "Nathan! Joseph's expecting you downstairs in his 'shop'. You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting. And it looks like he may have some other customers who need haircuts as well." That last remark was aimed at my son, my grandfather's namesake. Then I noticed she was eyeing me as well.

"I think we're expected," Nathan observed in his own voice, and I nodded.

As we followed my grandmother inside, I heard my son saying to his sister, "Wait a minute. With all the things he can do with his body, why does Uncle Nathan need a haircut?"

TO BE CONTINUED...

“The Cannibal Killer” Part – VIII The Conclusion: Private Papers of Michael Rhodes June 18th, 2016

     As soon as I finished re-loading, Nadine headed for the classroom door only to find it locked. “Seriously?” she hissed, “They lock classrooms doors an abandoned school? What did they think kids were going to break in and start rummaging through textbooks so they can catch up on homework or something?”

      Suppressing a smile I joined her and explained, “Teachers always lock the doors to the classrooms when they leave, and when they left this school they had no idea it wasn't going to reopen. Besides, even if they knew they'd still have locked things up because the school district would still be responsible for anyone, even trespassers, hurting themselves in here.”

      “I know one I won't mind hurting,” she murmured under her breath and reached for the handle.

I stopped her, “Too much noise. If the Cannibal's nearby he'll hear it. The hinges are on this side of the door. Do you think you can pull the pins out?”

      Smiling she elongated her fingers and with a little super-human strength, the pins were out.         

      Together we managed to silently pull the door out of the frame, then stepped into the hallway.

    Seeing no sign of our quarry, I quickly determined our location and led the way towards the stairwell leading downstairs. I have to admit, even if we weren't hunting a psychopath, the old hallways I'd wandered down so many times seemed kind of eerie. The district had been right to close the place down. Some of the ceiling tiles had collapsed, littering the floor with debris and dust. Not to mention the occasional opened locker which revealed cobwebs and abandoned notebooks. I found myself starting to wonder what might be hidden among the closed ones and shuddered.

      Upon reaching the old stairwell, I could see more fallen ceiling tiles and exposed wiring.

    “This place is starting to feel more and more like a horror movie set,” Nadine whispered as we carefully made our way down the steps.

     “And we're headed for the boiler room where creeps like Freddy Krueger hang out,” I replied in a hushed voice, then a thought hit me. “Hey, Nadine, how about you changing back to your normal form?”

      My companion paused on the steps and gave me a curious look. “Why?”

      “Because I watched enough of those old slasher movies to know the only girl left always makes it out alive. But any guys with her, especially if they're black like me, they're toast,” I told her.

      Rolling her eyes, she glared at me. Then a wicked smirk crossed her face and she whispered, “See you downstairs,” and took off down the steps in a blur.

     Cursing myself for having said anything I quickly followed. And for the record I wasn't the least bit annoyed with her for abandoning me like that. I knew damn well if she had sensed the Cannibal anywhere nearby she would never have left my side, even for a joke.

     Just before I reached the last step a light came on and I saw my partner standing near the switch staring into the most unnerving area we'd encountered yet. Old white brick walls surrounded us on all sides, with the occasional dark hallway staring at us almost begging us to come and take a look. There was an old chair and abandoned pallet in one corner, along with some big old rusted bins that had seen better days.

    Then I noticed Nadine's breathing sounded louder and faster. “He's getting near... and so is someone else.” Closing her eyes she trembled slightly as she concentrated.

    'Going back inside his head,' I told myself and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She seemed to appreciate it as the shaking stopped and her eyes flew open. “That way,” she snapped, pointing at one of the dark corridors.

    Gun drawn I led the way. As we moved I could here noises up ahead including moaning. Quickening our pace we soon found ourselves in a huge room filled with machinery, boilers and God help me... a fucking cage with a young woman inside it. She was curled up in a ball in one corner of her prison, rocking back and forth in a rhythmic fashion that told the entire story. From what little remained of her torn clothing it was obvious she had suffered much at the Cannibal's hands.

      This time Nadine didn't hold back. She rushed right up to the door to the prison and ripped the thing right off its hinges and flung it aside. The sound of tearing metal seemed to cut through the girl's almost catatonic state as she looked up and stared at the two of us, not certain if she could believe what she was seeing.

        I placed a hand on Nadine's shoulder and whispered, “Gently, she's been through a lot.”

    She gave me an annoyed look and then nodded. “Got it,” she replied and was about to say something else when the young woman stood up and rushed into her arms crying uncontrollably. In the distance I could hear the sirens of my fellow deputies' cars drawing closer. No doubt the killer was nearer too.

    That's when I heard the first hint of footsteps coming down the stairs. He was close than I'd thought.

      “Nadine!” I murmured, cocking my revolver.

      “I know,” came her muffled reply.

    Puzzled I turned and saw my companion's face buried in the girl's neck. “What are you...?” I began, when she turned and faced me.

      To my relief, there was no blood on her lips. “What did you do?” I asked.

      “Gave her peace,” Nadine replied and gently placed the now strangely calm victim into my arms.

      “You wiped her memories?” I hissed, in disbelief.

    “No, just gave her some strength to cope and recover with time,” my partner answered as she stepped past me.

      So she'd given the girl a bit of herself, that was a relief.  I was about to say more when our rescuee blurted, “Don't! He'll get you too.”

      Nadine paused and gave us both a reassuring smile. Then without saying a word, she headed out of the room.

      “What's she going to do?” the girl asked me.

     Before I could answer a voice bellowed from the other room saying, “JOANIE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME? I'M GOING TO...” the rest the words were lost on a cry of despair.

      The girl in my arms stiffened for a second and then became calm. “That cry, it was his voice, not hers. What's happening?”

     “Let's find out,” I told her and led the way out of the boiler room and down the hallway. As we moved I could hear Nadine speaking softly as we drew closer.

      “It's all right, I'm here,” she was saying.

     As we stepped into the white bricked room I could see my friend approaching the Cannibal who was slowly backing away until his back was pressed against the far wall.

     “DON'T TOUCH ME! I'M FINALLY THE STRONG ONE, NOT YOU!” the killer wailed, his face contorted in a mask of fury as his hands clenched into fists. Yet in spite of all that rage, his arms remained seemingly pinned to the wall. But why? Then it hit me, the Sangui-Sapio was holding him back. It wasn't about to let him harm the one who had shared her life with it.

      Nadine took another step closer then stopped and said softly, “It's okay, you can let you go. I'll catch you.”

      It was hard to make out in the dim light of the room but then I noticed the bullet holes in the Cannibal's shirt began to move as if of their own accord. Peering closer I finally made out particles of deep red were slowly exiting the tears in the fabric and floating across towards Nadine's extended hand. Once there, they seemed to disappear into the flesh of her palm, and I could see a sense of relief take over my friend.

       As the last of the stream of particles disappeared back into her, the Cannibal slumped against the wall and sat there staring at nothing.

     Then Nadine turned to us, and I could see her shoulder finally began to heal properly. Within seconds there was no trace of the injury she'd suffered earlier. Smiling she said to the girl in my arms, “It's over, he's done for. Let's get you out of here.”

       I caught the faintest glimpse of green mist waft from her hand into the girl's nostrils as she spoke. No doubt the sight of red particles coming out of the Cannibal and going into Nadine's hand would be forgotten.

      'Good job,' I mouthed to my partner as we led the girl upstairs.

     We'd just reached the top of the steps when Sheriff Parkes and several deputies appeared down the hallway. Upon seeing us they called out and quickly joined us.

     “What are you doing here...” my boss began, when he and the others unknowingly inhaled some faint green mist. After a moment, he continued, “You found her! Good job you two. What about our suspect?”

      “He's just down those stairs in the basement...” I began when.

     “JOANIE! JOANIE YOU BITCH!” came the Cannibal's voice from the stairwell. “I won't let you get away this time. I'll prove I'm stronger than you... you bitch.”

      “Get this girl out of here!” Parkes barked at our back-up.

      Two of my fellow deputies took care of our charge and moved her down the hallway to safety, the rest of us turned to face the nightmare figure coming up the stairs.

As the Cannibal came into view I noticed fresh blood stains had appeared exactly where he'd been hit by our bullets earlier.

      “Joanie...” he said spying Nadine, his voice was husky and his breathing more labored. “You keep coming back to prove I was never enough of a man for you... I joined the army to become stronger... and proved it overseas. I practiced on the whores I found there and found it wasn't me it that was the problem... it was you. You never knew how to satisfy me... but they did. I taught them how, with they're screams, their blood, their flesh.. And then I came back to show you but you'd left... and I had to find you. I had to find you over and over... and prove and prove it all over again, and again and...”

      Suddenly the man's eyes rolled up into his head and he toppled back down the steps, ending with a sickening thud at the bottom. Even before we reached him I knew our quarry was dead.

      “It's finally over,” one of my fellow deputies breathed.

      Parkes nodded, then turned to me saying, “You and Collins two did great tonight. Finding the girl while we had him on the run was a great move. Speaking of having him on the run, we heard from the hospital while we were chasing the bastard. Terri's awake and identified her assailant as our friend here.”

      A wave of relief swept over me. Knowing she was out of danger really brought the entire chapter to a close for me. I made a mental note to head to the hospital as soon as we were done here. Unfortunately, there was one last piece of business to attend to here, and I wasn't looking forward to it.

    I glanced over at Nadine who gave me a sad little smile. We had agreed back at the bar that it would probably be best for no one to remember her or her part in all of this, but I was having second thoughts about it.

     As Nadine approached I said to my boss, “You know to honest I couldn't have done any of this without Detective Collins help. I think it would be good for us to keep her in mind if we need her expertise again down the road. She's something of an expert in handling unusual cases.”

     “Is she?” Parkes remarked turning to her. “I know asking you to become part of our team would be a step or two down for you, but I would appreciate it if we could call upon you again in the future.”

     For a pregnant moment I half expected to see more greenish vapors, but instead Nadine smiled and extended her hand saying, “Of course. Michael... I mean Deputy Rhodes knows how to get a hold of me.”

     “Glad to hear you say that,” my boss replied taking her hand. And he wasn't the only one. I had grown rather fond of this 'other' side of my Uncle Nathan, and I was happy to know may get to see/work with 'her' again one day.

E-mail from Deputy Michael Rhodes Dated June 17th, 2016 - "The Cannibal Killer" Part-1

Author's note: Due to health issues I didn't have time to prepare a good Halloween tale, so I'll be re-running one of our more 'scary' tales. Please enjoy...

****WARNING THIS STORY MAY BE TOO INTENSE FOR SOME READERS, ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN A VICTIM OF RAPE, VIOLENCE, OR LOST SOMEONE TO A VIOLENT ACT.  PLEASE DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU THINK THIS STORY MAY CAUSE YOU UNDO MENTAL OR EMOTIONAL ANGUISH.**** 

Dear Uncle Nate,

I know it's just been a month or two since you were last out this way, but bad things have been happening.  REALLY bad things.  Right now we've got the townspeople, the Mayor, hell even the Governor clamoring for an arrest and so far we've been coming up empty.  

We almost got him last night but his 'victim' had to come first.  It was my partner, Terri McCloud.  You'll remember her of course.  She had dinner with us that one night.  But even if she wasn't my partner, I'd have still put her first.  She's one of us and you watch out for your own, especially when they wear the same uniform as you.  You told me that a long time ago. I was too young to fully understand what you'd meant back then, but when I enlisted in the army, your words came flooding back and I finally got it.  

Of course, I'm not in the army now, but I still wear a uniform and so do my fellow deputies, like Terri.  And right now we're up against something, or someone, who seems almost inhuman.  How else can you describe a rapist who also eats parts of his victims?  You don't expect someone like that to show up in small town like this.  Not to say we don't have our share of death, violence, drugs, etc.  We may not be the big city, but we have a lot of the same problems.  But a maniac like this?  No!  Nobody is ready for a serial killer to show up.  And this one is smart, which makes him even more dangerous. 

According to a profiling expert who came in to advise us, killers like this one don't announce their arrival, not right away.  Oh no. They're subtle at first.  An attempted mugging or a sexual assault, then they possibly lay low for a while to see what happens.  Did they leave any evidence behind?  How good a job of keeping their face hidden from the victim?  Then he'd wait and see what far we'd take to find him... sort of scoping out how overstretched we were, that kind of thing.  

Based on that idea, I'm starting to suspect he's had military training and have mentioned this several times to our boss.  He wasn't so sure about that theory at first, but after the fourth attack he started coming round to my way of thinking and so have the others.  Problem is, we still don't have much to go on. 

To make matters worse, he knew who his target was last night.  He KNEW Terri was a deputy gone undercover.  How do I know?  She told us while they were rushing her to the Emergency Room!  She'd suffered massive blood loss from multiple stab wounds.  She never got a look at his face, but heard him muttering about "her being out of uniform after dark..." during the attack, but that's all we got.  She's been unconscious since they brought her out and we've got men on the door to her room.  They're checking EVERYONE who comes in to make sure they're hospital staff.  Hell, they even stopped and searched a priest who claimed to be from her brother... which he was.

Right now she's the only victim to survive, and I'm worried we might not be enough to keep her, or anyone else, safe.  That's why I'm e-mailing you Uncle Nate.  You're the only one I know who can probably help take this guy down.  Everybody here has been doing their best to try and catch him, but he keeps getting past us and as I said he never leaves any evidence behind.

I know I'm breaking all the rules asking you to come in and help, and I haven't told my superiors or even my partner about you.  But I don't want to see anyone else wind up like Terri or the others.  Please let me know what you decide as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Michael

MARISA'S MUSINGS - October 24th, 2019: "Red Fang" Part VI

I have to say, the folks at the airport did not waste any time trying to get me indoors and away from the 'creature'. They were so quick, I barely got a chance to look over my shoulder and catch one final glimpse of Nathan in his Man-Wolf form as we got close to the door of the terminal. Unfortunately, one of my 'rescuers' caught my backward glance and also spotted him. Next thing I knew, he was yelling to the other around me and a couple of them were armed with rifles. 

Now I want to point out that no one in my family hunts, so I had no idea just how loud a gun sounds when it's fired. I now understand why people wear those hearing protectors that look like headphones. Damn, those things are loud. My ears were ringing and I could barely make out the sound of the airport around me. Hell, I could hardly hear a plane taking off. Luckily, one of the men who had opened fire was right next to me, and I could barely make out his shout of, "I hit him!" 

For a second my heart skipped a beat, then I remembered they were talking about Nathan not someone in a costume. Surely the Sangui-Sapio inside Nathan had protected anything vital. I know from past experience that it always does. Even if Nathan had been hit bad, the Sangui-Sapio would have either moved the organ in danger to a safe spot, or created a secondary version of whatever had been injured to keep him going. From what Otto has explained to me in the past, if healing could not take place, the new organ would simply replace the original which would simply be broken down and absorbed on a cellular level into the rest of the body. I swear, even knowing as much as I do of what that Para-Earth entity can do, I'm still in awe of it. 

But I didn't have time to dwell on either Nathan or the Sangui-Sapio. My 'rescuers' were busy hustling me past a crowd of lookie-loos who had gathered by the doors leading outside, trying to catch a glimpse of the action taking place outside. Of course, there were a number of podcasters, and Tik-Tokers on hand who tried to get close and ask me and the security people questions about the creature and my encounter with it.

Apparently, Nathan and I had put on a real good show, or someone had spotted the poor wolf itself. In either case, I was now a news story. Yay me! 

Anyway, security took over and had quite the time spiriting me away from the crowd. They wound up leading me to an out of the way office on the main floor far away from the crowd. After getting me a cup of coffee and making sure I was unharmed. Once I assured them for the 12th time that I was fine, then one of the men started asking me what the hell I was doing out side the terminal in the first place? Didn't I know that area was off limits to anyone but airport employees? 

The more he spoke the more he was getting himself worked up. He was shouting now, and several of the others in the room were looking more and more uncomfortable.

That’s when I decided to draw on some of what I had learned in the theater classes I took with Lisa during our last year of high school.  Every, time the guy started raising his voice and getting in my face, I started cringing and flinching. Finally, I practically burst into tears and began babbling hysterically. I wound up telling him I’d never been here before and that I had taken a wrong turn trying to find my way to the ladies’ room, because it was that time of the month and I wound up going through a door that led outside which locked behind me…

That was more than enough to get the “Spanish Inquisition” off my case. He backed off and ordered someone to ask one of the female employees to get me whatever I needed, then exited the room himself. Once a woman came in with what I 'needed' the others exited the room to give me privacy. 

As soon as they left I went over to the one window in the room. From there I could see what was happening outside. Clearly, the hunt for Nathan was still on. I could see bobbing flashlights and brief silhouettes of his pursuers in the distance, beyond the parked planes. I opened the window to see if I could hear anything of what was being said, but it was too noisy out. As I began to close the window I could hear some kind of report coming from over a radio nearby.

It seemed to be coming from the other side of the door to this room. Forgetting the window I sneaked over to the door to listen. Apparently, a security guard had apparently been assigned to keep the 'paparazzi' away from me, and he was currently listening what was going on outside over his shoulder radio. From what I could make out, one of the rangers had been knocked down by the wolf-creature, which had then stolen his rifle and taken off.

I frowned at that. It had to be Nathan's doing, but why? Were they getting too close? Had he been hurt by one of their shots? Maybe, they had caught a glimpse of the real creature and were taking aim.

It sure as hell couldn't have been the wolf who had stolen the rifle. It wouldn't know the first thing about guns, aside from possibly knowing they were dangerous in the hands of a human. 

Suddenly, I heard a clattering noise right behind me and whirled. There before me was the Man-Wolf, while at my feet lay the rifle.

I swear I didn't know whether to be surprised or terrified at that moment. But when it spoke, I nearly burst into tears. For in very broken English it said, "End... me... please..."

TO BE CONTINUED...

E-Journal of Nathaniel Eoghan Steward - October 24th, 2019 "Red Fang" - Part V

I recognized the tone in Marisa’s voice and knew she was being completely serious. So, I immediately looked in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, standing there amidst the trees across the road, was our quarry. It was still in its wolf/human form. As we watched, the creature kept switching its gaze from Marisa, then to me and back. 

“It must’ve sensed your presence,” Marisa murmured.

I nodded. “The Sangui-Sapio we share is calling out to itself. I felt he was near while I was still on the plane.”

Marisa shot me a puzzled look and I quickly explained what had happened. “I see,” she nodded when I finished and glanced back at the creature across the road. “But why is it choosing a humanoid shape? I would think it would hunt better in its own form.”

“That’s got me puzzled too,” I confessed and told her about the dreams I’d been having. “So, when I saw the article, I knew I had to come. I think the poor creature is stuck and can’t shift back to normal.”

“Do you think the Sangui-Sapio is responsible?” she asked, then frowned. “No that doesn’t make sense. You’ve always told us that the only times the Sangui-Sapio has ever altered your form shape without permission was to keep you safe. Otherwise, it never tries to interfere or takeover.”

“I know, that’s what got me confused,” I told her.

“Not as confused as this poor thing,” Marisa replied and proceeded to cross the street.

Naturally I immediately followed, all the while saying, “Marisa what are you…” Then I stopped myself. The wolf-creature was coming out from among the trees. Its body language was neither hostile or threatening. If anything, it seemed drawn to her somehow… 

And of course, that’s when everything went to hell! 

A passing car’s headlights illuminated the wolf who was completely clear of the trees just then. The sound of tires screeching to a halt, told me that the driver had spotted the poor misshapen animal. Before I could even think, Marisa began shouting at the wolf to take off which it promptly did with amazing speed. 

I think I was the only one not surprised, but that was because my keen eyes saw the animal’s mismatched limbs suddenly shortened or stretched until they were the same length, allowing it to move with a speed only I could match. Not that I did of course, not with the Ranger right there. 

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the vehicle that had come to a halt was a modified pick-up belonging to an Alaska Park Ranger. The driver was already leaping from his vehicle holding a rifle when the beast disappeared from sight. 

Unfortunately, the wolf had not bolted back into the woods as I’d hoped. Instead, it shot across the road and disappeared between the shadowy buildings of the airport before any of us knew what was happening. 

At that point there was only one thing I could think of doing. I straightened up and did my best impression of Bull Shannon from the show “Night Court” and said, “Ooooo-kay,” in his voice.

I knew he was one of Marisa’s favorite characters from the show, but if you had seen the look she gave me you’d have thought I’d done an impression of Dan Fielding, the sleezy lawyer, instead. 

“Seriously? Is that all you’ve got to say at a moment like this?” she demanded, while pointing behind me.

I quickly got what she meant, because I could hear the Ranger reaching for his radio. I immediately pointed at him and shot my mist in his direction. I wasn’t able to stop him from getting a few words out saying he’d located the creature, but I did manage to get him to tell them to search in the opposite direction from where the animal had fled. I also got him to completely ignore us and take off in the wrong direction. 

“Better?” I asked Marisa, only to find she was already crossing the road again to get back to the airport.

Catching up with her, we’d just reached the edge of the buildings where we’d last seen our quarry in time to hear shouts and running feet. This time I was the one to spot the animal, darting between a couple of hangars. Without pausing, I picked up Marisa and raced towards the buildings. To anyone watching they’d have just seen a blur shoot past, since I wasn’t holding back on the speed. And as for the snow on the ground, I can run on top of it, which meant no trace of our passing would be found. 

As soon as we were in the shadows of the building, I put Marisa down and we both started scanning the area for our friend. But because this was real life and not a Disney or Hallmark Channel story, all we could see and hear were people screaming and scrambling away from the tarmac. Although I had gotten the ranger and his friends heading in the wrong direction, the animal had clearly been spotted by people who were now surging towards terminal to escape and raise the alarm.

As we stood there, we could see security armed with rifles were already pouring out of the terminal and nearby buildings. 

“This is not good,'' Marisa muttered, looking around for our friend. “And I don’t see him anywhere?”

Neither could I, but I knew he was still near. But with security already spreading out to search I didn’t have time to try and zero in on him. But I did know where he definitely wasn’t. “I’m going to lead them off, keep an eye on my stuff, please,” I told Marisa. 

Before she could ask what I meant, I began misting out of my clothes and let them hit the ground. A moment later I solidified a few feet away not as myself but as the ‘werewolf’.

Marisa smiled.

Gesturing with my snout at the security guards I gave her a wink.

“Okay, but you be careful,” she whispered and then let out a bloodcurdling scream that got everyone's attention. Immediately, I bolted from our hiding spot and onto the tarmac, pausing briefly to make sure I was spotted before trying to get away from the terminal area. I purposely alternated running on two feet, then all fours, so as not to discourage pursuit. After all, the whole idea was to lead them away from the area where we knew the creature was. 

Glancing over my shoulder I saw a number of security officers giving chase, as well as a couple who were ‘tending’ to Marisa who was putting on quite the damsel in distress act.  They were leading her into the terminal where she would be safe. Or so I thought. Like I said before, this wasn’t a Disney or Hallmark movie…

TO BE CONTINUED...

E-Journal of Nathaniel Eoghan Steward - October 24th, 2019 "Red Fang" - Part IV

After a five-hour drive to Columbus Ohio, and now coming to the end of a 12+ hour flight, I’ll be touching down in Fairbanks very shortly. Isabella tried getting Otto to come with me, but I pointed out that this was more of a solo trip. As knowledgeable and talented as Otto is, I’m the one who has more of a direct connection to the wolf. The recent dreams have proven this to me, and even this high up, I think I can feel the gap between me and the errant Sangui-Sapio shrinking. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. I’ll know for sure once we touch down.

The flight crew are asking us to shut down our electronics. I’ll take this up once I’m back on the ground.

 

Three hours later… 

Okay, so much for my ‘solo’ mission. Apparently, Isabella has been acting as the eyes and ears for Lisa and Marisa without my knowledge. How did I find out? Well, coming off the plane and finding Marisa at the gate holding up a sign that says, “Congratulations on your sex change, Sis… er Bro!”, which included a photo of me in my ‘Nadine’ persona, was a huge hint. You see, I’ve only ever let Isabella take photos of me in that form, so I knew it had to have been her doing.

I was tempted to walk in the opposite direction, only I had this horrible image of Marisa running after me yelling, “So? How’s the new plumbing working out?” I know how tenacious she can be. So instead, I simply walked right up to her and said quietly, “Thanks for going the sibling route, instead of something like, ‘Congratulations on the sex change, Honey. When do I get to try out your new equipment?’.”

She laughed and said, “Ooo… I’m saving that for next time.”

“Me and my big mouth,” I murmured as we headed for the baggage area. “So, how did you land all the way up here. I thought you were riding the rails with our Karneval Schatten friends?”

Karneval Schatten, as the name implies, is a traveling carnival made up of people and beings from various Para-Earths who at one point or another found themselves stranded in this world. By traveling and presenting themselves as performers, they’re able to hide their ‘strangeness’ from the folks of this world. And like Otto and me, they seek out incursions from other Para-Earths and try to return any creatures/beings land up here. If they cannot return the ‘visitor’ to their reality, they will add them to their ranks if possible. However, in cases where the intruder is hostile or more dangerous, they will contact me or Otto to help contain the being.

They travel by an unusual train which can actually travel through various Para-Earths and reappear in this world at a variety of select locations that act as beacons for them. Just don’t ask me for the mechanics of how the train does it because I have no idea. Nor do my carnival friends to be honest. They ‘borrowed’ it from another Para-Earth traveler, who had been gathering and imprisoning them (and eventually me) for purposes I’d rather not go into right now.

Damn, just thinking about that day still makes me shudder. I swear if it hadn’t been for Brandon Elliott, and his grandson Peter, God only knows what might have happened to us and this world.

The rest of my reverie was interrupted by Marisa.

“Once I heard you were coming here, I asked them to drop me off,” she explained, brushing a stray blonde hair out of her face and back into the hood of her parka. “I was ready to head home anyway and figured I could catch a lift back with you after we find your… friend.”

I halted in mid-step and frowned at her. “My sister sent you the article too?”

“No, I found it,” she laughed, “Who do you think sent it to her the others in the first place?”

Eying her curiously I asked, “So, you’ve been keeping an eye out for possible ‘incursions’?”

She nodded. “Incursions, strange phenomenon, sightings… after all I need material for my children and Young Adult ‘fantasy’ books don’t I?” Then she bumped me with her hip saying, “Unlike some people, I don’t have over a century and a half of life experience to draw upon.”

“Touche’,” I conceded. “When are you going to finally try releasing one of them?”

“I want to have a good number of them completed in case I hit a dry spell so I can keep releasing stories in a timely manner. That way the audience doesn’t wind up getting frustrated that it’s taking so long between books,” she replied as we started walking towards the baggage area again.

“How many have you got on hand?”

“Five, but I want eight at least before I start publishing.”

“Eight?” I frowned as we reached the baggage carousel. “Why so many?”

“That way I can safely put out two per year with plenty of room for travel or…” she paused to snatch my bag which had just appeared on the conveyor belt, “Life getting in the way for a good four years.”

I had to admit she had a point. I often wished I still had a few books set and ready to go some days. But ever since I moved back to the family mansion, I’ve had a number of distractions (which included her and Lisa) to deal with. And this ‘werewolf’ business was only the latest.

As we made our way out the doors of the terminal I could see how much snow had fallen recently. Marisa must’ve noticed it too and promptly huddled closer to me as we walked through the parking lot. Since she is almost as tall as me meant she could rest her head on my shoulder, and promptly did so.

“You didn’t by chance rent a car, did you?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I caught a taxi and came right here. Besides, I wasn’t sure if we’d need a car, skis, or a snowmobile.” Here she paused and looked at me, “Then again, we could just rent a dogsled and tie you to the front. You’re so strong we wouldn’t need a full dog team.”

“You just want an excuse to get a leash on me,” I blurted and instantly regretted it.

“Well now that you’ve brought it up…” she began.

“Uh-oh,” I muttered, looking up. “It’s starting to snow again.”

Marisa frowned, “So? I thought you loved the snow?”

“I do, but with it falling that means no moon or Northern Lights to help us find my ‘friend’ as you call him,” I explained and looked around. I blew out a breath. “I’ll have to reach out mentally to try and get an idea…”

“FOUND HIM!” Marisa cut in and pointed.

 

TO BE CONTINUED…