Flesh and Blood: Chapter Two
The road to Hell...
When Mae Bishop finally did in her abusive husband and dumped his body in the river, she thought her troubles were behind her. When his ghost shows up and leads her away from the police and straight into the lair of a serial killer, she realizes trouble never left. And when a mysterious angelic being recruits her for purposes yet unknown, Mae knows she and trouble are in it for the long haul.
You're reading Flesh and Blood, the first novella in what I hope will blossom into a series known as The Bishop Chronicles. This is Chapter Two.
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Special Agent Chance Davies followed closely on the heels of the K-9 officer and her handler. The tunnel had already gone on longer than he’d expected. It seemed to have no end, the beams of their flashlights swallowed up by the darkness. His senses were on high alert, every muscle in his body tensed and ready for action. Who knew where this tunnel might veer off, where the suspect might be waiting to ambush them. Down here, a single shotgun blast could take all three of them out.
Maybe it was because he was listening so intently that he heard the slam of a car door somewhere up ahead—faint, but unmistakable. “Let’s go!” he barked at the K-9 unit, squeezing past the German shepherd and breaking into a run. An engine wheezed just as a light came into view, and Chance picked up speed, willing the engine to fail. But he still had several meters to go to reach the ladder leading up out of this hole when the engine turned over, revved, and then sped away.
Swearing, Chance took a running leap at the ladder, grabbed hold of it and scrambled to the top.
He paused to draw his weapon before emerging through the opening. Cautiously, he raised his head up out of the ground and scanned his surroundings. All he could see was a lot of grass. No sign of his fugitive. Still, he kept his gun ready as he climbed out of the hole.
A large patch of dead grass indicated the spot where a vehicle had sat for a long time. Fresh tracks led away from it in the direction of the highway.
Below him, the dog barked. “Agent?” the handler called.
Chance leaned over the hole. “Get on the radio. Get the chopper over here. I want every K-9 unit searching this area. And I want a road block set up on the highway, 10 miles in either direction.”
“Yes, sir.”
While the officer called for assistance, Chance went to inspect the tracks. All he found were two trails of mashed-down grass, the stalks that were merely bent and not broken already trying to stand back up and hide the evidence. He wouldn’t get any tire tread imprints or anything else useful from those.
The spot where the vehicle had sat might be a different story. Patches of dirt revealed where the tires had been in contact with the ground. Chance shined his light on the bare patches and took his phone out to snap some pictures. He couldn’t see anything helpful, but blowing up the photos might reveal something.
An idea occurred to him. He closed the camera app and hit the speed dial for the Bureau, but nothing happened. Squinting at the screen, he realized he had no signal. With a sigh, he returned to the hole and shined his light down. “Officer.”
“Sir?”
“I want satellite images of this area. Let’s see if we can get a look at the vehicle that was parked here.”
The officer nodded, and spoke into his walkie talkie. Chance started to pocket his useless phone, but then thought better of it. Instead, he pulled up the file he’d downloaded on his suspect and read through it again. A picture accompanied everything that was known about her, one that had been plastered all over the news for the last six months. It showed a slightly plump redhead, attractive, but tired-looking. It was only a driver’s license photo, but studying it for the umpteenth time, something in the woman’s eyes made it hard to believe she could have done what she was wanted for doing.
Then again, Chance had seen monstrous acts perpetrated by sweet old grandmothers. He had no illusions about what people were capable of, especially if pushed too far.
He wondered what had pushed Mae Bishop. Or who. He had his suspicions.
With another sigh, he put the phone in his pocket and stared out at the night, in the direction the vehicle had gone. It wasn’t his job to determine her guilt or innocence, or whether her alleged victim had had it coming. It was only his job to find her and bring her in.
As he heard the helicopter approaching, and the sounds of dogs barking behind him, he knew it was only a matter of time until he did.
***
They drove in silence. Well, Mae was silent. Wade kept humming to himself, and Mae did her best to ignore him. Once they reached the highway, she turned on the radio to tune him out. She found a talk radio station that didn't have too much static and left it there. She didn't really pay attention to what they were saying. It didn't matter. The soft drone of the voices soothed her as she drove.
They'd only gone a few miles when Wade asked, "Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"
"Nope."
"Why not? Aren't you the least bit curious?"
"No, because you're not here. You're a figment of my screwed up imagination. A holdover from my nightmares. Hell, for all I know, I'm still dreaming."
"Is that so? Then how do you explain me warning you that the police were on their way?"
Mae shrugged. "Maybe I heard the helicopter and just didn't register it yet. If you're a product of my subconscious, then it makes plenty of sense that you'd point out what I didn't yet realize."
Wade snorted. "Sounds like somebody's been reading up on their psychology."
"Hmm. Can't imagine why I'd need self-help after being married to you."
That shut him up. Which only confirmed her conviction that he was nothing more than a hallucination. The real Wade would never have been so easily silenced, nor did he ever look as thoughtful or remorseful as this one did.
He didn't stay silent for long, though. "Take this left turn up ahead."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because if you don't, you'll run into a roadblock."
"How could you know that?"
"Maybe because I'm a supernatural guide sent back from the great beyond to help you out of this jam." Mae shot him a withering look, and he rolled his eyes. "Or maybe I'm the voice of your own intuition. Take your pick. Just be sure you do it while you're turning left."
Making a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl, she slowed the truck and flipped on the turn signal. Hallucination or not, there likely would be a road block. She had no idea where this other road led, but as she took the turn, she figured getting lost was better than getting arrested.
"I don't suppose you know where this road will take us." She glanced over at Wade, who stared straight ahead without speaking. "I didn't think so. You can't know what I don't."
Wade smiled. "Just keep on this road for a few miles. I'll let you know when it's time to turn."
"Right." Mae glanced in the rear-view mirror. Nobody turned behind her. She wasn't being followed.
"I went to Hell, you know." Wade spoke as though he was just shooting the breeze. "It's not what you'd expect. I mean, there was fire and torture and all that, but it only lasted so long. The folks that run the place get bored easily and like to get inventive." He looked over at her. "Maybe that's why they sent me to you. So I'd get to experience a fresh new hell."
Mae nodded knowingly. "There's the Wade Bishop I know and despise. You think you're the one in hell right now?"
"I don't mean it like that. What I mean is, seeing how you are now, how hardened, how cold, when I can remember like yesterday how sweet and bubbly you used to be. Knowing I did that to you. Having to look you in the eye. That's my new hell."
Mae fell silent, letting that sink in. But then she shook her head. "You're not convincing me you're anything more than a hallucination. You're only saying what I want to hear. But I can't really believe that six months of hellfire and damnation is all it would take to make you a new man."
"Six months? Is that how long its been from your side?"
"What do you mean, from my side?"
"I mean that time is for the living, darlin'. The dead and the forces that govern us operate outside of time. I spent an eternity in hell. Believe me, I had plenty of time to think about how I lived my life here and come to wish I'd done it all differently." He looked out the passenger window as he spoke. "I know it's only been a short time for you, and you might not be ready to hear this. But for what it's worth?" He turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Mae. I truly am."
Mae's jaw hurt. She realized she was grinding her teeth. She forced her mouth to relax, took a deep breath and dropped her drawn up shoulders. "You're right," she said, keeping her eyes on the road. "It ain't worth much."
Wade nodded. Facing forward, he pointed with his chin. "Hang a right at the stop sign."
Mae squinted to see beyond the truck's headlights, but all she could see was darkness. "What stop sign?"
"There's a four-way just over the next hill."
A minute later, the truck crested the hill, and a set of four stop signs came into view. She coasted to a stop and looked at Wade. "How could you possibly have known that?"
He gave her a look that suggested she should already know the answer. "Turn right."
Mae sat there a moment, considering her options. She could keep going straight and see where this road led. Maybe to a small town where she could hole up until she came up with a plan. Or maybe it fed into another highway, hopefully one without any roadblocks.
One thing she'd been working on while hiding out for the last six months was learning to trust her gut--not something that came easily after so many years of gaslighting and her spectacular failure at judging what sort of man Wade had been in the first place.
If she was right, and Wade was a hallucination, an embodiment of her own intuition, then maybe she should do as he said.
But if that's all he was, how could he have known there would be a stop sign here? She hadn't known. She couldn't have. She'd never been down this road before.
If he was the real deal, then by his own admission he'd been sent by Hell. If that were the case, then maybe Mae should do the opposite of whatever he suggested.
But if she'd done that, she'd be in handcuffs by now.
Mae turned off the radio. She closed her eyes, took some deep breaths, and listened. She heard her own breathing, the rumble of the idling engine, the muffled chirping of crickets and night birds. Something howled in the distance--a dog or a coyote, she couldn't say. Closer by, a cow mooed. And deep down inside, a tiny voice whispered that she should go along with this--at least for the time being.
She didn't want to listen, but since she'd started paying close attention to that little voice, it hadn't steered her wrong. Yet.
Mae opened her eyes and made the turn.
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