Quiet resolve

Lieutenant Woods—

Just under the base of Kings Bridge, at its foundation on the side of Forest Creek, I leaned against my car. It was supposed to be a day off. Of course, it was. But things never go as planned, do they. Not especially for the likes of me considering last night’s events. The previous 24 hours has been quite a trip.

Believing Frankie did what he did was hard to stomach. First, there was Lilith, and then there were the several hospital workers wounded from gunshots discharged from a single firearm. They said some guy did it after being caught prying a heart out of a woman’s chest who was in a coma. Yeah, the same lady, if I recall, got in a car accident with him. Still, I had my doubts. You know, trauma and all.

Still, the description of the man matched Frankie, but why would he do that? Over a car? No, not the Frankie I knew. Something felt strange in the air—deeply strange. If his actions weren’t enough, then at least the random blackouts and strange power outages could suggest so.

Unfortunately, Frankie was indeed the culprit. After reviewing some security footage, I realized it was him through and through on the camera. It’s hard to miss the lad and his distinctive walk-and-drink method.

Fortunately, I pulled a few strings to track him. He sped away in a stolen vehicle. I tracked his cell phone just as he was leaving the city limits. He was moving fast up north, further than the Winter’s Estate in Bogs Neck. After a quiet, long-hour drive, I knew where he was going. A place I was certain he swore off, never to revisit.

It was a cemetery on the outskirts of the small town where his wife had grown up. He doesn’t like talking about her, but when she passed, he spoke of how she wanted to be buried there should anything happen to her before him. It was as if she had seen something in a dream because a few weeks later, during a burglary where she was alone at their home, the intruder didn’t take kindly to the idea of a witness. They found the perp, who did and did it not long after. But the whole thing left Frankie heartbroken.

He never wanted to talk about it, keeping silent as if avoiding the topic could erase what transpired. The effects lingered—he was bitter to everyone around him until he became obsessed with a now-wrecked car.

Thought it would do him some good. Thought a lot of things would do him some good, yet here we are. He stood at the place where his wife was buried.

The odd thing about it, though, as I arrived, Frankie wasn’t mourning. Instead of flowers, he had a shovel and was already digging two feet into the soil. I hesitated, unsure whether I should speak. His actions were so inexplicable that I couldn’t understand his state of mind.

Was I supposed to stop him? Yeah, as a friend and colleague, I believed that was in my right to do, but the moment I unlocked the door to get out, it locked right back. Something was staring me in the eye in my rearview mirror from my back seat. It was only a second, but as I collected my nerves, Frankie was gone—his car, too. Two hours had passed, just like the snap of your fingers.

Checking in the mirror one last time to ensure the back seat was empty, I sighed heavily. It was hard to admit it now, but ignoring what I had seen would be stupid. Frankie’s actions were indeed strange, even for him, and now I knew the truth behind them. I would need backup. But who? I could call Siri, but the topic of her grandmother would no doubt reach my lips for her ears to hear. Chief Torres was already upset because I had been at the Winters’ during the cleanup of the thing that invaded their home. A single word from Winslet to Ronnie silenced him like a dog ordered to stop.

Pondering it led me to call the woman herself. She didn’t offer any words of “I told you so,” but that she would send someone who was up to the job and a few extra disposable hands.

Color me surprised when they located Frankie’s vehicle moving southbound back into the city.

Now here we are, with Virgil accompanied by a handful of off-duty cops armed with clearly non-standard-issue weapons. Generous gifts were being handed around, no doubt including an early holiday bonus for their pockets and services.

“How did I reach here before you guys?”

“Who said you did?” Virgil asked, nodding toward a few homeless folks who were turning the corner to head away.

“So the Winters really run the streets to that degree?”

“Run them, no. We own them.”

Virgil handed over the clips containing silver bullets like they were ordinary ammunition instead of precious contraband. Each suited my department’s issued sidearm. Even in our line of work, silver rounds were a rare commodity—and here he was, passing them out like Halloween candy.

“My thing is, do you still think he’s in there?”

“He has to be,” I answered.

For years, the tunnels had been abandoned. They were vacant, with tracks that were so old that they were rust-stained and brittle. Various entrances and exits existed, so it was plausible that Frank could have used another to come and go freely. But I doubted that.

If that thing—the Witch—stopped me from stopping Frankie, then it, too, knew what this place was. Whether it was its choice is even more farfetched, as this entrance was the heart of the neighborhood where Frankie and I first solved a case together—not as a department investigator and Lieutenant, but as two rookie deputies on the job one late Saturday night.

“Just follow me and stay close,” I advised, finding my flashlight. It flickered here and there, causing me slight hesitancy to just dive in and chase after the lad. I thought it would be different, considering it wasn’t attached to the power grid, but I suppose that just shows the influence of this so-called Witch.

***

As I entered, it all came back to me. The tunnels were just as intricate as I remembered. Frankie was indeed heading right back to the spot where everything went down on our first case together.

“You mind telling us where we’re going?” Virgil asked.

“There is a massive hub around here where the trams park. Frankie and I actually caught our very first suspect down here. Drug dealer, pushing some stuff called Wolfsbane.”

“Ahh…” Virgil sighed. I am sure he was familiar with the drug, given that many smaller gangs in the day fought over it.

Who controlled it, controlled the streets, they say. But someone always controlled the streets. Whether it be the Freys then or the Winters now. Of course, everyone knew the Winters were the ones who always came out on top. Streamlining the drug distribution was just one of many subsidiaries that paved the way for their current business ventures.

“Some punk kid rode his bike down here to ditch it. The bright blue product attracted more than just cops, however. A couple experiencing their first change as werewolves thought it was a good place to chain themselves up and down here. Nice and secluded, away from civilians and others that they could turn by accident.”

“What happened to them?” Virgil asked, “The couple? The Kid?”

“Well, after they tore the kid up real good, they had at it with the drugs. Frankie and I stalled for a long time until backup arrived. Who knows how many times we ran around these tunnels that night? We tried to keep them pinned down for as long as we could in hopes of making sure the kid survived, but…”

“You had to put them down…?”

“What, no. One lost control of their beast’s instincts and attacked the other. Riddled with the taste of their lover, it must have brought them back to their senses. Staring us down to scare us before darting off in the other direction.”

“You never found the thing?”

“Nope. It was like a bullet train as it took off. Forensics found it challenging to dissect and interpret what remained.

“And the kid?”

“Died of the injuries long before he got to the hospital. He was pushing stuff for his boss.”

“So you think your friend is heading back to the crime scene? Why?”

“No clue,” I answered. “But I plan to ask when I see him—”

Before I could finish my sentence, my flashlight began flickering again. This time, it didn’t stop, and when it did, it didn’t come back on. Not even with a few generous taps. I wasn’t the only one, either. We quickly became enshrouded in darkness.

“With all the random technical issues and power outages,” Virgil spoke. “I’m surprised you folks didn’t come prepared.”

It was then that a crackling noise came about, and a glow hovered from the flare Virgil lit. His actions had sparked my curiosity to bubble to the surface. It had been a long time coming, but I had to know.

“Just who are you?”

“Because I told you. I am a mechanic. Learned a lot from my old man. Fixers we are.”

He left it at that, leading the pack to light the way when the sound of snarling could be heard. My gaze shifted from his eyes to another set that glowed red in the dark deep down the path we were heading down. It wasn’t alone as several more pairs upon pairs emerged from the sea of shadows there. It became far too many to count.

“So this is what comes of having no guard dogs,” Virgil spoke sarcastically. He drew his weapon alongside several deputies. His choice was not a gun but a wooden stake, one of several around his waist.

“You best be on your way, finding another route, Lieutenant.”

Before waiting for a response, he was already charging head-first down the tracks without a care in the world while the off-duty deputies rained down silver bullets into the darkness. It allowed me to change my route. Virgil is a fascinating lad, but he wasn’t my concern. My friend. My brother—Frankie — was a different story.