Bug Out! Part 11: Motorhomes on the Dark Road Read online

  “Oh no, then they know Jeb is there.”

  “Yep. We’re still trying to figure out how they got so close before the apps went down.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but we’ve seen a van behind us. It might be following us.”

  “Crap. Have they made any moves?”

  “No, not yet, and we have two rifles and a pistol with us. Earl’s got one in his lap, in the back seat, and Gabe’s up front with the other. I’m driving.”

  “Good. You stopping in Grand Junction?”

  “No, we were going to get on Route 50 there, and drive straight through.”

  “That’s a really long drive.” Charlie said.

  “We’ll take turns.”

  “Is the van close enough for the short range app?”

  “Should be, but we aren’t getting a hit, Charlie.”

  “Okay. How’s your gas? Maybe it’d be good to gas up in Grand Junction. Lots of people around there.”

  “Probably a good idea.”

  “You do that. If that van shows up again on route 50, call me.”

  “Okay, Charlie. Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing.”

  “Hope so. Talk to you soon.” She set her phone back in her purse, beside her on the seat.

  “Charlie?” Earl asked.

  “Yeah. The hospital got attacked, but the army took care of it.”

  “Gathered that from the conversation,” Gabe said. “We’re getting further ahead of that van. It’s probably not the enemy.”

  “Yeah, looks like that to me, too,” Hilda said. “Charlie thinks we ought to gas up in Grand Junction since there’s so many people around there.”

  “Sounds good,” Gabe said. “I could use a bathroom break, anyway.”

  “Okay, there’s the first off-ramp. I’ll take it.”

  She drove off the interstate, and cruised down the main road, choosing the third gas station she saw.

  Gabe got out of the car and pumped gas while Earl got out and stretched his legs. Hilda went to the restroom. The area was well lit, with plenty of people around, but Gabe was nervous. He scanned for the van.

  “Mind if I go hit the restroom?” Earl asked.

  “Go ahead,” Gabe said. Earl walked away, passing by Hilda as she returned. She had a bag in her hands.

  “More goodies?” Gabe asked.

  “Soft drinks, cookies, and chips,” she said.

  “Good, I could use a snack. I’ll hit the restroom when Earl gets back.”

  “No sign of our friends?”

  “Nope. Why don’t you get on your map application and find us a good way to get to Route 50. I’d rather do surface streets if we can get away with it.”

  “Okay, on it,” Hilda said. “Want me to keep driving?”

  “For a little while,” Gabe said. “You okay with that?”

  “Sure, stretching my legs helped. Here comes Earl.”

  “This thing just finished filling,” Gabe said, pulling the nozzle out and putting it back on the pump. He waited for his receipt.

  “Good, all done,” Earl said.

  “Yep. Be back in a minute,” Gabe said, walking off towards the restroom.

  ***

  The general rushed back into the clubhouse. “Major Harrison found the vehicle.”

  “How does he know it’s the right one?” Charlie asked.

  “They came in a modified van,” he said. “The interior is shielded, from right behind the front seats to the back end. Lead plates.”

  “No, seriously?” Jerry asked. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Hilda and Gabe saw a van following them,” Charlie said. “I just got off the phone with her.”

  “Uh oh,” Frank said. “If they’re being followed by a shielded van, they won’t know about it until it’s too late.”

  “What about the driver?” Jackson asked.

  “The two men up front had scars on their arms,” General Hogan said, “both of them got shot in the gun battle with the rest of the cretins.”

  “I’d better call Hilda back,” Charlie said.

  Chapter 2 – The Long Dark Road

  Charlie called Hilda.

  “Charlie, what’s up?”

  “We found out how the cretins got near the hospital without being seen.”

  “How?”

  “They tricked out a van. The back had lead lining inside. The driver and front passenger both had their chips removed.”

  “Clever. Wonder if the van that was following us is set up the same way?”

  “Is it still behind you?”

  “No, but we aren’t back on the highway yet. We’re taking surface streets to route 50.”

  “You already hit the gas station, I take it.”

  “Yeah. No problems there. No sign of the van. Lots of people out and about, too. Feels almost normal here.”

  “Well, I just wanted to let you know that the apps might not protect you. Keep your eyes open.”

  “Will do, honey. Don’t worry. I think if they were really after us, they would’ve shown up at the gas station.”

  “Talk to you soon, Hilda.”

  “Bye.”

  “Sounds like everything is okay,” Frank said.

  “I think we ought to get on the road and meet them,” Charlie said. “This makes me nervous as hell. If the cretins do make a move, we won’t be able to get there in time.”

  “I’m with you,” Jackson said. “What do you want to take?”

  “We can take my SUV,” Charlie said. “Maybe we should see if anybody else wants to go.”

  “I’ll go,” Dobie said.

  “Good,” Charlie said.

  “I’m going to send my boys in the Humvee too, if you don’t mind,” General Hogan said. “This doesn’t smell right to me.”

  Jerry started to say something, but Jasmine jumped in. “No, Jerry, don’t even say it. You’re staying here. Having my mom out there is bad enough.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “Okay, I understand,” Jerry said. “I was actually thinking more of following and then going on towards the hospital.”

  “It’s too early,” Jasmine said. “Jeb won’t be released for a few weeks. I’m thinking we ought to take the coach there when it gets closer, maybe with an escort.”

  “That’s a better idea,” Frank said. “We don’t need everybody gone from here at the same time. We’re vulnerable, remember, and the enemy knows where we are. We’re already a little thin with Earl, Gabe, and Jeb gone, and now Charlie, Dobie, Jackson, and the privates are taking off. That’s enough.”

  “Yes, that is enough,” general Hogan said.

  “Okay, I get it,” Jerry said.

  “I’ll go talk to my boys,” the General said. “When are you leaving?”

  “We can be ready to go in half an hour,” Charlie said. Jackson and Dobie nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, sounds good,” General Hogan said as he walked out the door.

  “Charlie, why don’t you call Hilda and let her know you’re on the way?” Frank asked.

  “I’ll do that from the road,” Charlie said. “So she can’t try to talk me out of it.”

  “Think we should take Duchess?” Dobie asked.

  “Couldn’t hurt,” Charlie said. “There’s room in the back.”

  “All right, let’s load ‘em up,” Jackson said. The three of them left the clubhouse.

  “You think this is a good idea?” Jane asked.

  “Yeah,” Frank said. “Otherwise I don’t know how we can save them, if they are being followed.”

  “What about the army?” Jasmine asked.

  “We want them fighting the enemy while it’s still like shooting fish in a barrel,” Jerry said. “That window of opportunity is closing fast.”

  “Wonder who’s running things for the enemy now,” Jane said.

  “Good question,” Frank said. “The highest ranking people not in custody are the guys south of Big Bend.”

  ***

  Scott led Howar
d and Bailey down the steps to the basement door. The walls around the stairs were scratched and pitted. The door had a new dead bolt on it, which stuck out like a sore thumb over the old-fashioned glass doorknob and key hole. The musty smell hit them in the face as Scott pushed the door open.

  “This lightbulb is liable to go out any time,” Scott said as he pulled the chain to turn it on. “Looks like it’s from the 1930s.”

  The room was bathed in eerie yellow light.

  “What’s with the stuff on the back of the door?” Bailey asked, looking at the thick padding fastened on the inside.

  “Poor man’s soundproofing,” Scott said. “Probably worked okay.”

  “This looks like a 1940s photographic studio,” Howard said, looking at the light stands and the backdrops hanging on one wall, and the selection of props sitting on a table to the left. There was a changing screen on the right side of the far wall.

  “Yes, this was the photo and screen test room,” Scott said. He turned on another bank of lights, and the room brightened up. It didn’t look dangerous. More photo and movie hardware came into view, including small boom microphones and an expensive looking movie camera.

  The only thing that looks odd is the window up near the ceiling,” Bailey said. “More of that soundproofing stuff.”

  “Makes sense, if you’re going to make sound movies down here,” Howard said, chuckling. “Perfect cover.”

  “He’s got the same stuff around all of the windows down here,” Scott said. “That’s why it’s so stuffy. None of them open anymore.”

  “Wonder what they did about that problem back in the day?” Howard asked. “Had to be a tip off to the victims.”

  “Good question, Howie. I’m going to run some vent pipes up through the roof. Ought to hide the noise okay. Check out what’s back here.”

  Scott went to a door on the far wall and opened it. There was a seal around this door made of rotten rubber. They walked through, and Scott pulled the light chain just inside. This was a much larger room, with the look of a dungeon.

  “This is where the sausage was made,” Scott said, grinning.

  “Nice cells,” Howard said, looking at the three cages along the wall. “Why so many, though? Didn’t this guy work alone?”

  “Nobody really works alone, Howie,” Scott said. “You know that.”

  “Look at that table!” Bailey said, rushing over to the middle of the room. There were tools hanging on one side by hooks. Bone saws and other orthopedic medical tools. The table top had a channel all the way around the edge, going to a spout that was over a dirty old tin bucket. “Did he cut people up down here?”

  “Yes, that’s the way this guy worked,” Scott said.

  “Is that what you do?” she asked, wide eyed again. “Cut them up down here?”

  “No, that’s not the way we mark,” Scott said. “I’ve used it for torture a few times though.”

  “This isn’t all that much different from what Chet set up back at the park,” Howard said as he looked around.

  “Where do you think my dad got his ideas?” Scott asked.

  “They knew each other?” Howard asked, a shocked look on his face. “He never told me about that.”

  “Yeah, he was funny about this guy, for some reason,” Scott said. “He told me he had a friend who lived a couple blocks away from Ohio State, but that was all he’d say. You don’t know how many old houses for sale I’d looked at in this neighborhood before this one came on the market.”

  “So you knew what you were looking for,” Howard said.

  “Yep.”

  “He didn’t pick victims from here, though,” Howard said. “From what I’ve read, they were mostly from Cleveland.”

  “Yeah, he had this thing about not fouling the nest,” Scott said, laughing. “All kidding aside, it’s probably why he never got caught.”

  “Good thing for you to remember, Scotty,” Howard said.

  “How many girls have you killed down here?” Bailey asked.

  “Only six so far,” Scott said. “I’ve been pretty careful to protect this location, especially since I’ve been working by myself. Doesn’t take much to lose control. One of the young lovelies I had here made me fall down those stairs. She almost got away.”

  Howard saw something in the far corner of the room. “Is that a projector?” he asked.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Nice library down here. It’s probably the most valuable thing I have.”

  “Does it still work?” Bailey asked.

  “Yes, although it’s getting hard to find those light bulbs now. I have about six left.”

  “Looks like 35 mm,” Howard said, walking closer to it. “This thing would be worth money, working or not.”

  “Probably,” Scotty said. “The hardware isn’t nearly as interesting as the media.”

  “Do we get to see?” Bailey asked, a wicked grin on her face.

  “Yeah, Scotty, is that your evidence about Black Dahlia?”

  “It’s on the movie that’s loaded in the projector now,” Scott said.

  “He didn’t kill her here, obviously,” Howard said.

  “Of course not, Howie. It was on a road trip. Guess who went with him?”

  “Chet, probably,” he said.

  “Your dad was in on the Black Dahlia murder?” Bailey asked, fire in her eyes.

  “Yes, and the father of another dear friend,” Scott said. “Prescott Beckler.”

  “Never heard of him,” Howard said. “But then most people have never heard of Chet either. Jason wasn’t first generation, then?”

  “Few of us are,” Scott said. “You can usually tell the first generation. They’re the ones with the dead families.” He snickered.

  “I was first generation, and I didn’t kill my family, Scotty.”

  “Perhaps,” Scott said. “How did you meet Chet again?”

  “My dad and Chet used to hunt together,” Howard said. “But that doesn’t mean anything. He was no killer. Hell, a few of the people at your RV Park used to hunt with Chet. That’s how they knew about the place.”

  “Okay, you have a point,” Scott said. “Shall we take a seat in the screening room?”

  “Yes!” Bailey said, running over and sitting on one of the ancient folding chairs in front of a crude screen hanging on the wall. Howard and Scott looked at each other and grinned.

  “Ready?” Scott asked.

  Howard shook his head yes, looking mesmerized.

  “C’mon, guys!” Bailey cried.

  “It may terrify you, Bailey,” Scott said, a wild look in his eyes.

  “I hope so,” she said.

  Howard came over and sat next to Bailey as Scott turned on the projector. After it started, he rushed over to the door and pulled the chain, killing the lights. Then he sat on the other side of Bailey. The sound track from the movie started to snap, crackle, and pop as the picture came into view.

  “Where is that?” Howard asked.

  “Some crappy bungalow in Leimert Park.” Scott said.

  “Isn’t that where the body was found?” Howard asked.

  “Yeah, close by, in a vacant lot,” Scott said. “Wish I could find the house.”

  “I always figured she was killed closer to the Biltmore, in downtown LA,” Howard said.

  “That’s where my dad and his friends picked her up,” Scott said. “Look, there she is.”

  They focused on the scratchy film in front of them, flickering in the darkness. The sound was hard to listen to because of the ambient noise on the sound track. The rustling of the clothes, footsteps, noises outside.

  “Why aren’t we doing this at the studio?” asked the brown-haired woman in a Boston accent. She looked around nervously as she stood in front of the white screen, squinting in the bright lights.

  “They’re overflowed,” said a man, out of view of the camera. “They hired us to scour the area for new starlets. If you interest us, you’ll be given a formal screen test at the studio, so it’
s up to you to impress us.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “First of all, say your name.”

  “Elizabeth Short,” she said, forcing a smile, but still looking around warily.

  “How long have you been in the area?”

  “Not long.”

  “Is that a Boston accent I hear?” asked one of the men off-camera.

  “You can still hear it?” she asked. “I was from there originally, but spent a lot of my early years in Florida.”

  “When did you become an idiot?” asked one of the men.

  She looked at him, the corners of her mouth dropping in anger. “Hey, you sap, what gives?”

  “You let three strange men take you to a deserted house on the promise of a screen test. Smart women don’t do that.”

  She started walking away, a terrified look on her face. The camera followed her. One of the men got into camera range, hitting her in the head twice with a small club, knocking her out before she could even scream. “Chet, get your lazy ass over here and help me tie her hands and feet.”

  “There’s dear old dad,” Scott said proudly.

  “Who’s the first guy?” Howard asked.

  “Prescott Beckler,” Scott said. “Never met him. He disappeared before I was born.”

  “How about the Torso Killer? He ever get into the film?” asked Howard.

  “Yeah, later,” Scott said. He got up and pulled the light chain again, then flipped off the projector.

  “We don’t get to watch the rest?” Bailey asked.

  “Tomorrow. They had her for several days and filmed a lot of it. See that stack of film cans there?” He pointed to a stack of round cans, sitting on the floor in the corner.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of footage,” Howard said.

  “Yeah, hours and hours,” Scott said. “It’s getting late. We need our beauty sleep.”

  “What are all those other film cans?” Bailey asked, pointing to a huge pile about five feet away from the Black Dahlia cans.

  “I’ve only watched about five of them so far,” Scott said. “They were all shot in that studio up front, and in here. Grisly stuff. We’ll watch some of those tomorrow, too.”