Evil Like Me Page 30

  “They won’t hurt Hunter Keller. He is safe,” Baldwin said. “The elk protect him—dead or alive. I suppose they don’t know the difference.”

  “I’m a hunter,” Cottam said. “Wild animals run from people. They don’t make friends.”

  “As Mr. Wilcox said, we’ve seen this before,” Baldwin said. “Our scientists say it is extrasensory communication tied into the animal’s instinct mechanism. Animals respond to stimuli. In this case the stimulus is sent by Keller, his subconscious reaction to danger. He knew he would face danger here tonight. The animals picked up on it. They came, driven by protective instinct. They see Keller as one of them. They see Swenson and Cankor as predators.”

  “That sounds bizarre,” Cottam mumbled.

  “Mr. Keller connects with animals like his mother did years ago—the Scanate Project. The particular skill is rare. I know of no other with the capability. Mr. Keller possesses even more gifts beyond our understanding,” Baldwin said.

  They stared at the undulating herd beneath the rising dirt cloud.

  “You see the largest bull elk with the enormous rack? The animal is holding his head high. He’s maybe twenty feet away from Major Cankor.”

  “He’s gotta be seven-hundred pounds,” Cottam said.

  “See how he stays to the edge of Cankor’s line of vision?” Baldwin said. “When Cankor turns, the bull moves to hold his position in the periphery.”

  “What about it?” Wilcox asked.

  “He is the alpha male in the herd. He’s measuring Major Cankor. He is going to charge. It is now about timing. The alpha bull elk sees Cankor as a threat to Keller and his herd.”

  “They had to travel a long way,” Cottam said. “Seems like that makes them the predator, not the defender.”

  “That doesn’t matter in the animal world, Director Cottam. The concept of first and second means nothing. Instinct drives everything. Major Cankor’s aggression triggered the threat and created the confrontation,” Baldwin said.

  “How can you be so sure Hunter Keller is dead?” Petty asked.

  Baldwin leaned out and found the doctor. “If Mr. Keller were alive, he would be fighting back. I believe the psychic confrontation is over. It appears Major Cankor was the victor.”

  “If Keller’s dead, why would Cankor drag him off?” Wilcox asked.

  “To destroy his remains, to burn him, to obliterate the Keller family DNA. Major Cankor’s objective is to secure his total dominance over the global, psychotronic initiative.”

  “So you admit psychic-weaponry does exist,” Petty said.

  Baldwin smiled. “Yes. I speak in general terms.”

  “A psychic-weapon of mass destruction is something our planet really needs,” Wilcox said.

  “I’m afraid it has had the attention of the superpowers for four decades. What began as an intelligence gathering tool soon became much more.”

  “Killing people with ‘thoughts’ sounds like science fiction to me,” Cottam said.

  “I still have trouble that one man can cause so much trouble in the world.” Wilcox said.

  Baldwin said, “If Cankor was not occupied by this elk herd, one look this way and people would die. Don’t deny what you do not know or understand.”

  “I hear you, but still find that hard to swallow,” Cottam said.

  “Director Cottam, you have multiple psychic-homicide victims in your county morgue. I am quite certain Dr. Petty has now seen enough to share her professional opinion on the matter.”

  Eyes turned to Dr. Petty as she scanned the herd still looking for Hunter Keller. “Psychic manipulation of the amygdala produces an overwhelming sense of terror triggering life system shutdown and cardiac arrest.”

  She turned to them and said, “In layman terms, you are mentally manipulated into being scared to death—a kind of lethal hypnosis. The hypnotist is far away.”

  “William Harvey, an English physician in the 1600s, was ahead of his time. When medical intervention was viewed a last option, he said something profound. I believe it fits this moment. He said, ‘All we know is infinitively less than all that remains unknown.’”

  “Never heard of the man,” Wilcox puffed.

  Petty chuckled. “He was the first to describe the systemic circulation and properties of blood pumped to the body and brain by the heart. In his day he was thought to be crazy, too. Four-hundred years later, he’s a genius.”

  “Today a third-grader knows more than the world population back then,” Baldwin said.

  “Maybe this Harvey guy got it right,” Wilcox said. “The stuff I’ve seen over the last few days is from the unknown.”

  On his last word the alpha bull elk charged Cankor and pushed him to the ground. Cankor jumped to his feet and waved his hat and arms backing up the herd. The bull elk hesitated and backed away. Then it lowered its head and charged a second time. A cloud of debris lifted.

  “They’re going to kill him,” Petty said. “We can’t just stand here. It’s not right.”

  “Shooting the animals would create a much bigger problem,” Baldwin said. “We would confuse the herd. They’d come our way—we would be the predators. Major Cankor could escape and a lot of us get trampled. I don’t care how many guns we have, we’d lose the battle. Trust me, we cannot intervene. We must let this play out.”

  Wilcox stepped into the tall grass. “Baldwin, you don’t know if Keller’s dead.”

  “I do not know for sure.”

  “He could be alive. He could be lying out there needing help.”

  “Keller stopped blocking,” Baldwin shot back. “Cankor and Swenson got in his head. Hit him with everything they had. Even Keller could not survive the onslaught.”

  “Explain Dewar, then. Cankor ran when Keller showed up,” Wilcox said.

  “Cankor was caught off guard. Maybe he was injured on Dewar and had to leave to do battle another day. Regardless, it appears he has recovered. He and Swenson took Keller down.”

  “I will not stand here and watch. I’m gonna do something,” Wilcox said.

  “I can’t stop you. You’re making a mistake. Those animals are crazed. If they don’t kill you, Cankor will.” Baldwin turned to his team. “Everyone, stand down. That’s an order.”

  “Commander Derby, it goes for your people too,” Cottam ordered. “Detective Wilcox is on his own. He’s always been,” he said under his breath.

  But Petty heard him. “And he’s often right.” She ran into the deep grass. “Maybe I can help.” She caught up to Wilcox. Together they approached the edge of the snorting herd of moving shadows.

  “I have no idea what I’m gonna do with Cankor,” Wilcox whispered.

  “Knock him on his ass,” Petty said.

  “You never cuss,” Wilcox said. “Don’t try to get on my good side.”

  They inched forward. Even though Cankor was a despicable serial killer, allowing wild animals to gore and trample him to death was not the justice they sought. And in Keller’s final hour, they would not abandon him. The frail, young man from Stringtown with the bizarre gifts was now more alone than ever. He did not need to confront his nemesis on Mud Island. He did it because Wilcox and Petty gave him the courage to face reality. Now, they would not leave his body in the field beneath the sharp hoofs of a hundred bull elk. He deserved better.

  “I know why he came here tonight,” Petty said as they pushed through the grass. “We helped him reach a turning point. Hunter believed he was evil like Cankor. He was afraid of what his gifts could do to him. I think tonight he was …”

  “Was what?” Wilcox turned to her.

  “I think tonight he was … too afraid to run.”

  They approached the edge of the herd and stopped. The massive heads turned. A path opened. “What’s this about?” Wilcox whispered with his eyes on the path.

  “I suspect we are more of a curiosity than threat, at the moment,” Petty said.

  They walked the narrow path. With each step forward the animals opened before the
m and closed behind. Forty yards from the sandy mound and onlookers, they saw Keller lying on his back on the trampled grass. The bull elk maintained an open circle around his lifeless body.

  “Baldwin was right,” Wilcox said. “They’re protecting him. I’ll be damned.”

  Elk eyes locked on Wilcox and Petty as they knelt by Keller. The muscular animals could close in on them at any moment. Petty felt Hunter’s carotid. “No pulse.” She put her ear to his chest.

  Wilcox stared at the snorting heads and black eyes and three-foot racks of sharp boney spikes waving in the moonlight. They were in control.

  “Is he deh … ?”

  Before he could finish the word, Petty started CPR.

  Wilcox could do nothing for Petty or Keller. He had to find Cankor. He had to do the impossible—convince a psychopath to stop killing. Maybe Cankor would return to Stargate if he knew Baldwin was alive, on the island, and willing to make a deal.

  He got to his feet and pushed forward through the herd. He peered over a hundred bobbing heads and through the choking dust cloud. Then the elk opened another path as if they knew he was going to stop Cankor.

  I’m doing it again—way over my head. Keller’s dead and Cankor’s my serial killer. I can’t let that monster get off this island. Wilcox moved deeper into the herd. As he progressed, the bull elk were bigger and more agitated. You guys must be the warriors. He took each step unsure if it would be his last. Whoa there. I’m one of the good guys. I don’t need to be gored tonight. Did I mention I’ve never hunted a day in my life? Animals, anyway …

  Wilcox was nudged down the path with curious noses, challenging snorts, and huge eyes. He looked away from the few rearing up on hind legs. They dropped back to all fours and let him pass. I’m on my way to die with some psychic asshole, he mused. I’ll never get this power-crazed freak to give it up. Why do I attempt the impossible? What is my problem?

  There was movement ahead, in the murky haze and undulating shadows. He found Major Cankor—his back ten yards ahead. The bull elk maintained another circle around Cankor, but the purpose was different. They were going to kill the man.

  But before Wilcox could open his mouth, the psychic-killer waved off the last charging bull elk and spun around; his long, black coat lifted in the air like a hideous cape.

  “Too bad,” Cankor spewed. “The bullet would have been a more comfortable way to die, Detective Wilcox.”

  His chest wound burned under Cankor’s stare. Wilcox winced and tried to blink away the spiraling pain. “Stop. Wait. You win. Everybody’s dead. You’re the last one standing with the weird skill sets. You are a valuable commodity, Major Cankor. Nobody’s gonna mess with you now. Swenson’s missing half his brain, Keller’s a carp in the grass. All the RVs are dead. You win. Let’s get out of this pissed-off herd of elk before we both get gored.”

  “Alfred is here,” Cankor said. “He survived the sniper’s bullets.”

  “He did. But you control psychic-weaponry. Your first customer is the U.S. Government. Baldwin is standing over there ready to make a deal. Don’t screw this up.”

  “You underestimate me because you’re a common man with a narrow definition of right and wrong. You live in a one-dimensional world, Mr. Wilcox. Your small brain cannot comprehend extreme, existential concepts. I don’t need to make any deal. I have all the power now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Wilcox inched closer. How much time do I need to reach my ankle holster, pull my gun, and put a bullet between the eyes of another delusional monster?

  “You’re a fool.” Cankor smiled. His brow dipped. “It is time for heroes to die. I will kill you first, and then Dr. Petty. I will kill the others and save Alfred for last. You have underestimated me. You have woefully miscalculated the dimensions of the moment.”

  “Listen to me, Cankor. Alfred Baldwin’s your old, school buddy. He’s here to cut you the best deal and take you back to Stargate. You’re on the top of the heap with a deal.” Wilcox looked back at the white lights and knelt inches closer to his ankle holster.

  “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

  “I have not underestimated you, Cankor. The government’s not gonna let you off this island if you don’t work with them. You can’t stop bullets. You can’t stop all the snipers tonight. You can’t stop a world hunting you. We will not let you take psychic-weapons to our enemies.

  “Take the deal on the table. Work with the most powerful country on the planet. You’ll get everything your little, black heart desires. Any other way means the end for you.”

  Cankor smiled at the moon. “I will be the only one leaving Mud Island tonight.”

  He raised a hand and plunged a psychic-dagger into the top of Wilcox’s head. Like a sizzling bolt of lightning, the pain shot through the core of his brain and down his spine. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the turf gasping for air. Like all the others under telekinetic attack, his arms and legs stiffened and back arched to the snapping point. Cankor’s unspoken words dripped with controlled rage, and burned the inside of Wilcox’s skull.

  “Soon you won’t care,” Cankor said as he turned his back to the next dying man.

  Baldwin was right. Petty and Wilcox should have stayed on the sandy mound and let the animals have their way—Cankor’s skills could not stop a herd. He was an evil predator on a sinister mission.

  Cankor was right when he told Wilcox what would happen next. Wilcox lay paralyzed on trampled grass. He struggled to manage his final thoughts. With all he could muster, he willed his cramped fingers down his calf to his ankle holster, but he was attempting the impossible. His frozen body would not find a way to remove the gun from its holster, to aim, and to pull the trigger one last time. Cankor was right—Wilcox did not care anymore.

  When he touched the pearl handle of his 357 magnum, his hand flopped to the ground. The terror, manufactured by his manipulated amygdala, took over. Wilcox lost reason and the will to live. The side of his head sunk deeper into the flat grass. Surrounded by the muscular legs of bull elk, his heart raced and eyes ached under the mounting pressure. He touched the pearl handle a second time and inched his finger to the trigger. Through wet, paper-thin slits his eyes found Major Cankor one last time. But Cankor was no longer standing in the middle of the herd. He was floating above the herd in the swirling dust cloud raining debris.

  Am I dead? Am I dreaming? This is an illusion.

  Forty-Three

  “Gifts make their way through stone walls.”

  Proverb

  *

  From the sandy mound they watched in silence. The flood lights lit up the north field of Mud Island like an NFL stadium night game. Lights poured to the tree line northeast of the land bridge. All could see Major Cankor floating above the herd.

  Cottam spoke first. “Is that man levitating?”

  “There is a logical explanation,” Baldwin said. “It is not what you think.”

  “He’s gotta be thirty feet up and climbing,” Baily said.

  “More like fifty,” Patterson said.

  “What in the hell is our government doing?” Cottam said as he rubbed his eyes and witnessed the silhouette climbing and his coat lifting in the river breeze like a demon’s cape.

  “I did not see this coming,” Baldwin said. You should not be seeing this.

  Director Cottam said. “Tell us the government did not know that man could levitate.” He shook his head in disbelief as the others blinked in silence. “I suppose if I were running things in the government, I’d want to keep this a secret too.”

  “Major Cankor is not levitating,” Baldwin said.

  “Right. We believe you. He’s not be levitating,” Cottam said tongue in cheek.

  “Hunter Keller is doing it.” Baldwin pointed to the wisp of a shadow standing in the center of the herd. “There he is. He is alive. And he is in control of everything, including us.”

  “Keller is levitating Cankor?” Baily asked.

  “No. Keller is
controlling our minds,” Baldwin said. “This is nothing more than a mass-illusion. He is manipulating us. We see what he wants us to see.”

  “Are you saying we are hypnotized?” Cottam asked.

  “Not the way you think. This is not hypnotism by the power of suggestion. It is more like pheromones—excreted chemical factors that trigger a response. In nature it is most often of a sexual nature. Pheromones are well documented in the insect world. They come into play with some vertebrates and even plants. They are well understood.”

  “How does that apply here,” Patterson pushed.

  “Hunter Keller releases telepathic-pheromones, in a sense. He is impacting perceptions and behavior of receiving individuals. But unlike chemical pheromones with limited reach due to diffusion issues, Hunter Keller’s T-P is effective in large areas.”

  “How large?” Cottam asked.

  “At least a city. Maybe more. We have not been able to test him.”

  “Is it possible Keller is actually levitating Cankor?” Baily asked.

  “No. He is creating the illusion of levitation in our minds. We are seeing and feeling what he wants.”

  “Does Major Cankor believe he is floating fifty feet above the ground?” Cottam asked.

  “Yes,” Baldwin said. “All of this is for Cankor. We are in range to receive the telepathic pheromones. Mr. Keller is attempting to negotiate with Cankor, get him to surrender.”

  On Baldwin’s last word they watched Hunter Keller turn to them and drop his head. Seconds later Cankor plummeted to the ground.

  “It appears the Major was unwilling.”

  The herd melted into the woods and the dust cloud settled on Mud Island.

  The Memphis Tribune: Gunshots on Mud Island Kept Under Wraps

  Memphis, TN, November 6 – Early today gunshots were fired on Mud Island. The MPD Elite Force was called into action. At least one died at the scene. Details surrounding the shooting are unknown at the time of this report.

  MPD Director Cottam was interviewed leaving the scene. “The nature of events occurring on Mud Island is classified,” he said. “I am pleased we could assist the FBI and Homeland Security on a matter of national importance. The citizens of Memphis were never in harm’s way. The operation was professionally managed and carefully monitored to insure the safety of our community.”