Shadow Walker - Part Six

Detective Vincent Morella leaned his head against the glass of the two-way mirror as he stared at the bloodied and glassy-eyed man who sat alone in the interrogation room. He cleared his throat and asked, “What do you think?”

His partner, Walter Hagen, shrugged. “He’s confessed to disturbing multiple crime scenes, removing evidence, impersonating a victim’s relative, and killing a woman by setting her on fire. We could book him for breaking and entering as well, but if we take his confession at face value, he’s got to be insane.”

The precinct chief, Rodney Schmidt, heaved a sigh. “Let him finish telling his story. He believes it, and his neighbors must have believed him if they all moved into his house.”

“You don’t think he’s telling the truth, do you?” Walter asked.

Rodney rubbed the top of his bald head as he frowned. “I don’t know, but the story being peddled to us from the powers that be sounds like bullshit to me. If this was a chemical attack that only affected a few people, why was everyone else also able to hear these screeches? We’ve had days of witness reports from all over the precinct, and they’re all consistent.

“What’s more, we’ve got way too many bodies that couldn’t have been killed by a human. The peeled bodies don’t show any signs of being cut, and we have yet to find a single skin. The handprint-shaped bruises on the ripped victims couldn’t have been made by human hands.” Rodney gestured toward the mirror. “We’ve all seen the kinds of markings he’s described, and he’s seen it on one of the victims for himself.”

Walter frowned, his face filled with skepticism. “Yeah, but—”

“I’m not sure how these people died,” Rodney said. “I don’t know that I’m buying his version of events either, but if these people are suffering from a chemical attack, then it’s an attack with specific instructions. I just don’t see that kind of shaped hallucination as being likely.”

Vincent nodded and turned to look through the mirror. “What if he is telling the truth?”

“Then we’ll have no choice but to arrest him. He took the law into his own hands, and now, in spite of whatever justification he might have, he’s a criminal.” Rodney waved toward the door. “Go on and finish this.” Vincent nodded and went to the door. He smiled apologetically at Virgil as he returned to the table and sat down. “I’m sorry, where were we?”

Virgil said, “You left right after I described our vote to get lanterns.”

“Right,” Vincent agreed. “So you went to the store and bought up all of the lanterns, right?”

“No. Every store we went to had already sold out.” Virgil paused to yawn and rub at his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “I was actually a day behind most people in figuring out that candles wouldn’t work. We found a few oil lamps, and we bought those...it was a mistake.

“When it started getting dark, we noticed the first storm clouds rolling in. Before the sun had even set, the sky was pitch black. We didn’t know they could summon storms, and I still don’t think a single banshee could on its own.

“But after I killed one of their infants, it provoked a lot of the new arrivals, and they pulled down a strong storm. Even then, we were okay. The candles and lamps were bright enough that I didn’t think the banshees could get inside, and most everyone was trying to find a spot to sleep when the attack began.

“Tony called me to a window, and I couldn’t see what he was pointing at until I realized that a banshee had wrapped itself around the trunk of a tree in his yard. We were trying to get people to move back away from the window when the tree snapped.” Virgil paused and looked at Vincent with a tortured expression. “It didn’t fall. It was thrown, and the entire wall collapsed. The wind was coming in from that side of the house, and within seconds, most every candle was blown out. The oil lamps weren’t strong enough, and I started seeing banshees reaching into the house to pull people outside.

“I went to the kitchen. I had a desperate idea for a weapon, and I grabbed a can of oven cleaner. I made a torch with my broomstick and a towel soaked in lamp oil, and I returned to the living room. We’d already lost a lot of people by then...I wasn’t sure where my family was, or if they’d already been taken, but I...”

Virgil’s shoulders hunched, and he started huffing in soft, hitching breaths. He’d long ago cried himself out, but the grief inside him was far from soothed.

Vincent leaned over the table when Virgil grew still, and the detective patted Virgil’s hand while he adopted a sympathetic expression. “Please, go on.”

“I waited until a banshee was reaching for a neighbor before I sent a fireball at it using the oven cleaner. It did work, but when the banshee began its death wail, several people dropped their lamps. The lamp oil spread over others in the resulting panic, and people stampeded over me as they tried to get into the rain to put themselves out. It was a case of damned if they did, and damned if they didn’t. The people who ran outside were skinned and killed almost instantly. Everyone who tried to stay inside was burned alive.”

“And what did you do?” Walter asked.

“Up until the point that a firefighter pulled me out of the fire, I laid unconscious.” Virgil turned to glare at the detective. “It’s fine if you think I’m a nutcase, or the victim of some kind of mass hysteria. I know what I saw, and I know what you people found outside my house. There must have been a huge pile of skinned bodies, so I’ll bet you’re trying to figure out how I killed so many people before the fire department arrived.”

Walter shook his head, his square face filling with an earnest look as he said, “No, I’m trying to figure out why you were the lone survivor.”

Virgil looked down at his hands. “I don’t know. Maybe this was their idea of revenge. Maybe they took everyone from me as a punishment for killing one of their children.”

“It seems fairly harsh,” Walter said.

“Are we any less forgiving when one of our own children has been murdered?” Virgil asked him in a quiet voice. He shook his head in the following silence. “I don’t know what these things are, and I don’t know where they came from. But I think I know why their cries are familiar to me. Some time long ago in the past, humans have had to fight with these creatures before. It doesn’t matter that no modern human has heard the screech of the banshee. We know well enough to fear the sound because it calls to an older, more primal emotion.”

“So that’s your advice for dealing with this threat?” Walter snorted. “Let’s just all get primitive and take on the banshees!” He leaned over the table and glared at Virgil. “I don’t know what really happened at your house, but this mess you’re giving us isn’t the truth.”

Virgil smiled tiredly. “I feel better knowing you’re on the case already, detective. The human race is safe in your capable hands.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Walter asked.

“It was an exceedingly polite way of saying, ‘fuck off and die, pig.’” Virgil leaned back to avoid the punch aimed for his nose.

“Son of a—”

Vincent got up and moved to pull Walter away to the other side of the room. “Easy, man. Just relax.”

“You should have let him hit me.” Virgil smiled at the detectives. “Both of you are scared shitless. You’ve got backed up case logs as the peeled bodies keep coming in, and no matter what reality is telling you, you keep looking for a logical explanation. It isn’t coming. Sooner or later, the banshees are going to stop picking on the suburbs, and then you two are going to get all the proof you need on my claims. It won’t matter to me, because I’ll probably be dead tonight.”

“What? Are you planning to off yourself?” Walter asked. “We could put you on a suicide watch.”

“I wouldn’t dream of killing myself. But I think I’ll be getting some visitors in my cell tonight, and tomorrow morning you’ll be looking over my peeled corpse.” Virgil sighed. “You won’t be getting any other variation of the story from me, so if that pisses you off enough to beat me up, then bring it on. You can’t do anything worse to me than what’s coming for me tonight.”

Walter huffed and went to the door, followed quickly by his partner. As soon as Vincent was through the door, Walter slammed it and shook his head at Rodney. “No way. He’s got to be—”

Vincent tapped his shoulder. Walter glanced at Vincent, and then he turned around to look where his partner was pointing in the corner of the room. A shadow was flowing outward from the ceiling, appearing like an oily fluid. The lights above them faded to a dim, bluish color.

Opening the door to run back into the interrogation room, Walter found Virgil staring at another shadow pooling in the corner behind the security camera.

The lights failed, plunging the room into impenetrable shadow.

Walter shouted, “What’s happening?”

“It seems I was wrong about the timing,” Virgil said calmly.

“There’s no banshees in here,” Walter insisted.

A moment later, a screeching rose in the air, and Rodney screamed in pain.

Virgil chuckled and shut his eyes when another screech began, and then another. “I think there’s quite a few, actually.”

Inside his head, he heard a familiar hissing voice. Hello, Virgil.

Vincent started to scream, and a split second later, Walter joined him. Virgil waited for one of the creatures to reach out for him, but while the cries of the police faded, the screeching did not. It occurred to him that the banshee expected him to say something, and he smiled to himself. “Hello, mister banshee.”

A sound like mocking laughter filled his head. I hope you don’t mind, but I invited some friends over for dinner.

The End?