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  "Okay," Todd reluctantly agreed, "just hold on a second. I will be right back." Todd left his guide in the hallway and headed back to his bed, grabbing his jacket from the closet and putting it on in the process. Todd looked down at his suitcase, which still contained a messy cargo of clothing and papers, Todd reached in and lifted from his suitcase two containers of tablets. Although not having grabbed the full collection that he had brought, Todd stuffed the containers into his jacket pocket while the teddy bear on his pillow watched with intrigue. Todd exchanged a look of discomfort with the stuffed toy before popping a few pills in his mouth. The two beady eyes of the bear became clearer as the tablets dissolved quickly into his system. Digesting his pills and his pride, Todd turned around and joined Mike in the hallway.

  "Please take me to your town sheriff," Todd said politely to the man with black make-up on his nose.

  "Alright," Mike replied, taking a few steps back through the hallway, "but you gotta talk to my friend Arnold later . . ."

  Chapter 3

  Mike led Todd down Kinston's main street towards the church. Its bell tower stretched high towards the sky as if purposely to symbolize power and might over its neighboring buildings. As the two men walked, the sun slipped behind the large, metallic cross atop the church, bringing a shadow of perpendicular bars down on top of Todd.

  "You are taking me to the town's sheriff, right?" Todd asked, shielding his eyes from the reappearing sunlight.

  "Oh no no," Mike replied, "you have to meet my friend Arnold first-" Todd immediately turned around, fuming with anger, before Mike even finished. Todd cast his eyes back and forth, hastily scanning the town for any helpful sign that could direct him to the town's police station.

  The distant sound of someone working with a hammer echoed behind a row of buildings across the street. Todd looked in the direction of the racket and coincidentally found "Sheriff" written on a sign in one of the building's windows. The hammering emanated through the alleyways on the left and right side of the building, quickly drawing in any curious passerby.

  While no cars had yet passed down the road Todd looked down both ways of the street, meaninglessly, before fleeing to the other side. Mike finally turned around to find his companion running towards the other side of the street. Nonstop, Todd continued on his way until finally pushing open the doors to the sheriff's office while Mike pursued, sprinting across the road with mind boggling speed.

  "Hello?" Todd shouted into the building, "Hello? Sheriff?" The hammering outside didn't skip a beat as Todd's only reply was the squeaking of the entrance doors as they shut behind him. The building was nearly cleared out of all furnishings with not even a single light bulb burning away. The ceiling fans had ceased to turn and the one phone, which sat on the only remaining desk, was full of empty lines; dark and dead. The innards of the filing cabinets had been cleared out along with every other moveable object with the exception of the desk chair. No equipment or personal mementos sat atop the desk, no bodies worked behind the office windows in the back corner, and no living creature could be spotted within the station.

  "Where is everyone?" Todd gasped, still catching his breath from the desperate dash across the street. Mike, appearing behind him, began twisting and turning his neck, looking every which way.

  "What is that blasted racket?" Mike asked, ignorant to Todd's query while walking towards the back door. Todd followed in hopes that an explanation might materialize from thin air, or at least from whomever was causing the commotion.

  Through the back door, Todd and Mike found a vacant lot of grass and overgrown foliage where two men stood at a wooden post. One man held a hammer while the other held an assault rifle. The two men casually debated as Todd and Mike gawked at them; unnoticed.

  The man with the assault rifle was dressed head to toe in green camouflage with a few leaves of foliage protruding from his helmet. Face paint was smeared beneath his eyes and everything from the gloves on his hands to the boots on his feet was complete military attire. The intimidating rifle hung from his left hand while a pistol hugged his belt and a knife clung to his ankle.

  The man with the hammer was dressed in old cowboy clothes, battering away at the wooden post with his tool while stacks of timber and boxes of office material lay on the ground surrounding him. He wore a cowboy's hat, blue shirt, vest, blue jeans, and boots. As the cowboy turned to pick up a wooden board, Todd saw a golden star pinned on the cowboy's vest.

  "Sheriff?" Todd asked out loud as he stepped carefully towards the cowboy. Both men lifted their heads in surprise and stared at Todd.

  "Who are you?" demanded the soldier hastily, lifting the barrel of his rifle in Todd's direction.

  "Why are you dressed like that?" Todd asked quickly, awestruck by both men but with no conscience to hear what the soldier had demanded. Todd reached out to touch the sheriff's clothing but the soldier quickly tackled Todd, wrestled him to the ground, and then pinned him.

  "What are you doing Charles?" the sheriff calmly asked as Todd roared in fury beneath his attacker.

  "He's a Jap sir!" the soldier shouted, "I know it! I knew they would sabotage-"

  "What are you talking about!?" screamed Todd. Mike lifted his glove to his mouth and chuckled.

  "Sheriff Meyers, this is Todd Morgan, Helen's husband," Mike said. Charles, hearing Mike's information, looked at Todd with amazement before jumping to his feet and reaching down a hand to help Todd up. Todd, however, smacked Charles's hand away before moaning and groaning as he stood up.

  "Mr. Morgan?" the sheriff asked politely, extending his hand to Todd. Todd brushed his jacket before giving Charles an ugly stare. The two men shook hands as Todd nodded in confirmation, straining to crack a smile. "I'm awfully sorry about your wife," Sheriff Meyers said, looking around at all who observed, "We all are." Todd nodded again in subtle agreement while his eyes remained transfixed on the sheriff's outfit.

  "How come you're dressed like that?" Todd asked, pointing to the sheriff's vest. Mike and Charles looked at the sheriff as if trying to find what Todd pointed at.

  "You mean this?" the sheriff asked, naively taking a hold of his sheriff's badge, "well I'm the sheriff. Ev'ry sheriff needs a badge." Sheriff Meyers gave Todd a look of fascination, as if thinking he’s silly for asking such a question. Todd was instantly confounded with the Sheriff's attitude and after pondering it a moment, decided it best to let those around him continue with their games.

  "Hey," Mike abruptly interrupted with a big grin, "whatcha building there?" Mike pointed at the lone post with a crooked board nailed to it.

  "Oh, that?" Sheriff Meyers said, pointing his hammer at the post," that's gonna be our new jailhouse." Mike nodded his head and opened his wide smile with childish fascination. Todd stood mortified with confusion.

  "But you have a jailhouse already," Todd said, pointing to the building behind him.

  "That's what I told him!" Charles burst in, lifting his rifle before turning to Sheriff Meyers to argue, "That stuff is meant for our barricade!"

  "That building right there," Sheriff Meyers shouted, pointing to the police station, "is no good! We need bars, wood . . . good ole keys!" Sheriff Meyers held up a big ring with half a dozen antique keys jingling on it. The two men pulled down on their head ornaments simultaneously before turning to Mike and Todd.

  "If it were meant for a barricade," the Sheriff argued, "there wouldn't be the word Sheriff written on it!" Charles stepped towards Todd and Mike.

  "We received this material for fortifications! The Japs are comin' closer each day! What're we gonna use a jailhouse for if we are all dead!"

  "What Japs!?" Sheriff Meyers yelled, "there ain't no Japs 'round here Charles." Lieutenant Johnson held his rifle strong, compressed his lips in rage, and marched over to the adjacent space between two buildings and pointed his rifle straight out at the city limits where the distant landscape of green foliage was visible.

  "They're hiding in the brush!" Charles yelled at the top of his voice li
ke a marine, "I see 'em at night when they sneak closer! Soon they'll be right on top of us!" The camouflaged man then marched back over to Sheriff Meyers before standing straight up in his face. "And stop calling me Charles! My name is Lieutenant Johnson!"

  "I'll call you a six-legg'd horse if I want to!" Sheriff Meyers shouted back into Lieutenant Johnson's face.

  "Guys! Stop!" Mike bellowed. Both men looked at Mike and then released exhaust, relaxing a minute before taking a step back.

  "Who gave this wood to you guys?" Todd inquired, knowing he would regret asking such a trivial question that would only encourage their games.

  "God done give it to us!" Sheriff Meyers proclaimed loudly, holding his hands up to the sky like an evangelist.

  "It wasn't God you fool," Charles said, nudging Sheriff Meyers with his rifle, "it was aerial support. They dropped it just last night . . . they got us ammunitions too not too long ago." Charles held up his rifle as an example.

  "This stuff," Todd began, pointing to the wooden boards that littered the ground, "came from the sky?"

  "Yes," said both men in unison, suddenly bringing to light the one topic where they did not argue. A silence ran through the group of men gathered on the vacant lawn. Todd tilted his head back and peered up at the blue sky just before Mike saw this and peered upwards too

  "There's nothing up there," Todd said softly. The other men, too, caught on and looked up at the desolate sky where not a single cloud held back the sun's rays.

  "I'm telling you," Sheriff Meyers spoke, "it came from God."

  "Maybe it came from angels," Mike added. Hearing this, Todd concentrated harder on the sky; trying to find anything that could qualify as an explanation. He squinted agonizingly, hoping more than anything to spot something, but quickly relaxed after realizing his futile efforts.

  "An angel like Helen," Todd whispered aloud. Mike, Charles, and Sheriff Meyers broke their transfixion on the sky and instead looked back at Todd whose head still remained tilted back.

  "Again Todd," Sheriff Meyers began, sullenly, as Todd looked down, "we are very sorry for your loss."

  "I only want to know about it," Todd said, drifting off. Another silence passed between the men before the dreary atmosphere surrounding them had withdrawn suddenly. "Well I hope sometime I can come by your office," Todd said before pausing and looking around, "or your new office, and we can talk." Todd nodded and the Sheriff nodded back. All four faces generated a subtle happiness, but only half expressions were true.

  "Have a nice day men," Charles said sternly, lifting his rifle and his chin in unison. Sheriff Meyers tipped his hat as Mike and Todd turned to leave through the abandoned station. Upon returning his gaze to the inside of the building, Todd killed his default smile after realizing how little information was gained. Mike, on the other hand, resumed his cheerful attitude as the two returned to the sidewalk. The annoying sound of a hammer meeting a nail continued to emanate from behind the police station.

  "Pssst!" whispered a boy hidden in the bushes of a nearby house. Mike and Todd looked at each other before giving the boy a strange gaze.

  "What do you want?" Todd asked quietly. The boy replied by signaling the men to come closer to the line of bushes that divided the two lawns. Mike and Todd reluctantly strolled over to the shrubbery and kneeled down next to the boy.

  The young teenager wore red goggles and had a black cap on his head. He wore dark clothing as if to hide in the shadows and elude attention during clear daylight, while wearing a belt decked out with plastic spy gear. With a canteen in his gloves, the boy leaned next to Todd and Mike.

  "Can you see in those windows?" the boy asked, pointing his finger towards the nearby house. Mike and Todd turned their attention to the ancient edifice on the other side of the bushes. The large, dull structure sagged under its own heavy weight. The front lawn was long overgrown while the uninhabited house had long since begun shedding its tinted paint. If there were a detailed description of a haunted house, Todd was most definitely staring at it.

  "Yes, I can see in those windows," Mike said, turning back to the boy with complete interest. Todd reluctantly turned to the boy as well and agreed.

  "Can you see anything moving around in there?" the boy asked with obsession in the tone of his voice. Todd shrugged as Mike gullibly turned back to the house to look.

  "I don't have time for this," Todd insisted before standing up. The boy took due note and tried to tackled Todd and pull him back down behind the bushes.

  "Get down! Don't blow it!" cried the boy as he spilled the juice in his canteen all over Todd's shirt.

  "Ahh! What are you doing?" Todd roared, throwing the boy back down to the bushes where Mike still kneeled. Todd looked at his stained shirt and gasped in distress at his ruined clothes before looking back down at the boy with anger in his eyes. "What is wrong with you!?"

  "They're in that house! I hear them! Every night . . ." the boy said gasping for breath. Fear and anxiety seemed to rule over him, but unappealing paranoia quickly overlapped and conquered. Todd dismissed the boy's accusations and continued to hopelessly wipe at his shirt with his hand.

  "Don't be stupid kid, there's nothing in that house," Todd said unsympathetically as Mike stood up. Both men turned to leave as the boy also jumped to his feet and started to back away towards the house on his side of the bushes.

  "You sound just like my brother!" he cried immaturely before retreating up to the house and running inside. Todd watched on and considered the boy's stupidity just before looking down again at the stain on his shirt.

  "This is my good shirt," he said looking up at Mike, "I wanted to wear it for . . ." Todd drifted off as the day's disappointments returning in his head. Mike watched as his companion let out a sigh of frustration and dropped his arms to his sides.

  "Is something wrong Todd?" Mike asked, putting his big fuzzy paw on Todd's shoulder, "Maybe now you should go talk to my friend Arnold." Todd lifted his head in disapproval and tried his best to appear well, for sake of avoiding more of Mike's sympathy.

  "No it's alright. I just have to go and clean up . . . maybe I will try again tomorrow," Todd said politely as he thought of the Sheriff's busy schedule in building his jailhouse. The Sheriff's stupidity quickly followed in Todd's mind. Mike lifted his paw from Todd's shoulder, realizing Todd's current needlessness for him.

  "Okay then," Mike said cheerfully before pointing his finger at Todd, "I'll see ya later buddy." Mike chuckled and then turned away before strolling down the street. The dance in his step and the joy in his tone surfaced faster than it took for him to turn away. Todd tilted his head in fascination at Mike's attitude adjustments, but only until the headache kicked back in.

  It had been a while since pills had found their way into Todd's system, so under nothing less than obligation did he reach into his pocket and extract the tablets. It seemed the pain in Todd's skull pulsated as he threw his head back to gulp down the unknown number of pills. He did not remain on the street to wait for a reaction.

  Instead, Todd made his way back to the hotel, avoiding the receptionist's blank stare, and went back into his room where he threw off his clothes and put on cleaner, although not anymore formal, attire. Then, with a bag of clothes under his arm, Todd went off down the hallways in search of a washing machine where he could clean up his good outfit in hopes of attending a perfect meeting with Sheriff Meyers. Todd's goal, however, eluded him for some time until finally he ventured into the basement to discover the uninhabited laundry room which contained a half dozen washers and dryers.

  Todd set his lump of clothes down on one of the dryers in the center of the room and began to sort it. The stain in his good shirt jumped out at him like a nightmare while the silence in the empty laundry room soothed his conscious. The only pain in his head now came from the flicker of the basement lights.

  "Hey . . . Todd," called a robust voice. Todd lifted his head in surprise; having though he was the only occupant in the room. In fact, Todd remembered walk
ing into the desolate room alone.

  "Yes?" Todd inquired, turning around to find the speaker, but there was no one in the room.

  "Do not be afraid," spoke the mellow voice yet again. Todd located the sound to be coming from behind one of the washing machines up against the wall. A slight touch of curiosity enveloped him as he noticed the lack of gap behind the machine where the speaker could fit.

  "Who are you?" Todd asked aloud, taking a step towards the machine. A chill crept up Todd as he began to wonder more deeply where the speaker was. Instinctively, Todd reached out his hand to check beneath the lid of the washing machine since he could look no where else.

  "Do not be afraid," the voice echoed again, "and please do not lift my lid." Todd stopped the very second he placed his hand on the lid of the machine. And please do not lift my lid? Without a moment's thought, Todd involuntarily heaved up the lid of the washing machine and looked inside. Another low, yet gentle, voice echoed into Todd's head as he peered inside an empty washing machine.

  "Please do not be afraid." Todd then fainted.

  Chapter 4

  "WAKE UP!" shouted an unfamiliar voice. Todd popped up from his lying position and struck his head on a board above him. Todd immediately bellowed in pain and began rubbing his forehead. He sat in a dimly lit basement filled with bunk beds and nothing else. A strange woman, wearing a military uniform and a Red Cross sash around her arm, kneeled next to him on the bottom bunk.

  "I'm sorry," the female medic said, "but your snoring was getting on my nerves." Todd, still massaging the bump on his head, was dumbstruck by the recent events, many of which still remained veiled behind the curtain of pain in his skull.

  "Wha . . . where am I? How long have I been out?" The female medic turned around just as Lieutenant Charles Johnson walked into the room; having heard the commotion.

  "You've been out for at least an hour, you're in one of my bunkers, and it's good to see you again Todd," Charles said, walking up to Todd who continued to rub his head.