Lunacy: Chapter 3

Chapter Three

  Joseph Whitecloud and Jake Hurley were friends from early childhood through high school, and attended the Rangers’ Academy together in New York State. Upon graduation, they received their bases of operations. Jake was excited to get the Avon, Massachusetts assignment, meaning he would be within a four or five-hour drive to visit Joseph, as he was to remain in New York on assignment.   

  When his superior had informed him of the horrible death Jake suffered from an unknown beast, he automatically demanded a transfer to the Avon Rangers’ Cabin to fill the position of his fallen friend. 

  Joseph’s superior did not like the idea of him running off, consumed with grief and vendetta on his mind, until Joseph reminded him of the nights he had spent on his couch throughout his divorce. It was the least he could do. Following Jake’s funeral, he left for Massachusetts as soon as he received official orders.          

  Upon entering the town of Avon, his thoughts on Jake’s loss were suddenly overpowered with a strong sense of evil; like receiving a firm punch to the jaw. Only this assault attacked his psyche, leaving him weak and disoriented, with feelings of despair.

  Pulling his vehicle to the side of the road, he slowly regained his mental defenses to deal with the onslaught. As he sat gasping for air for a few moments, he knew that his feelings of wariness on making this trip, were now an omen toward his mission here. He must be careful.                              

  Before Jake departed for his assignment, Joseph called upon the Iroquois spirits of his ancestors to foresee the future of his good friend. In his trance-like state, the vision showed the untimely demise of his friend and the feeling of morbid evil.  Although he could not see exactly how and why, he called Jake immediately to warn him of danger, but he simply laughed, saying that Joseph needed to stop with his “superstitious nonsense,” as Jake usually did when he talked of his visions.

  After regaining his composure, he took a brief moment to study his map to find the way to the sheriff’s office. Finally reaching his destination after a long five-hour drive, he hoped the sheriff would not be displeased with him for arriving two weeks early.

  Pulling up to the center of town, he saw that there was not much to observe. Diagonally in front of him stood the Police/Fire Station, a tiny, red-bricked building with a steeple-like roof on which a large clock displayed the time. To the right of the station was a grassy area with a small white gazebo and what appeared to be an old bronze cannon on top of a white stone; the bronze had turned green from oxidation.

  Immediately to his right, were a pharmacy, a small pizza shop, barbershop, and an office building, containing tax services, and other businesses. The town bank sat in the middle of a fork in the road beyond them. The road to the left led to the only two bars in town. To the right was the Library, which was directly across the street from the Middle/High School. Two churches built side by side, one Catholic and one Baptist, sat to his left. The General Store, he discovered later, about a half mile farther down the same road, and the lumberyard straight ahead past the Police Station.

  Pulling into the station’s parking lot, he hoped to catch the Sheriff before he left for his daily patrol. His first order of business was to introduce himself, get the keys to Rangers’ Cabin, and find out first-hand what he knew of Jake’s mysterious death.

  A friendly, young dispatcher, sitting in a small room to the left, greeted him.

  “Hello, can I help you?” she said, from behind a glass window.

  “Yes. My name is Joseph Whitecloud. I am the new Ranger for the town and I was hoping to see Sheriff Bell, if he is available,” he answered.

  “Oh, well hello Mr. Whitecloud. I am Amanda. It is very nice to meet you. We weren’t expecting you for another couple of weeks,” she replied with a questioning look.

  “Yes, I apologize for any inconvenience. I decided to leave New York early to get settled in, and begin investigating the tragic accident of the previous Ranger,” he explained to the woman.

“Yes, that poor man,” she said, with a look of grief on her face. “What that animal did to him was so awful. They never did find it, you know. Did you now Mr. Hurley?”

  Fighting the lump in his throat, he realized that he would never again be able to try to convince Jake his visions and mystical powers were real, and not a joke. Jake often teased Joseph about his superstitious nature, and usually got a big laugh when Joseph would try to convince him of his powers. Forbidden by his people to show outsiders how to use Shamanistic powers, he never really could prove it to Jake. “Yes, very well,” Whitecloud replied, sadly. We were best friends for years.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Embarrassed, she immediately picked up her phone and dialed a few numbers. “Sheriff Bell. The new Ranger is here to see you. Yes, I know. Okay, I’ll send him in,” she replied after a short pause.

  “He’ll see you immediately, Mr. Whitecloud,” she said with a sympathetic smile, as she reached for the buzzer, allowing him entry to the inner door leading to the back of the Police Station. With a nod of thanks, he entered.

  As he walked a short distance down the hallway to his left, a tall, stern-looking man with short auburn hair greeted him.       

  “Mr. Whitecloud I presume, I’m Sheriff Michael Bell,” he said, holding out his hand in greeting. Stiffening with warning as he made contact with the man’s hand, he instantly sensed the evil spirit haunting this man. He immediately knew this man was werewolf – as his Great Grandfather had tuned his senses as a young boy, to do.

  “Is everything alright, Mr. Whitecloud?” the Sheriff asked, eying him suspiciously. “Yes, quite.” The Indian lied, trying to hide his astonishment. “I apologize for arriving sooner than expected, but I am eager to get settled into Rangers’ Cabin, and find out exactly what you might know about my predecessor’s untimely demise,” he continued.

  “I see. Why don’t we step into my office then, Mr. Whitecloud,” said the Sheriff, as he led him down the hall and around a corner to the right.

  With a gesture of his hand, the Sheriff offered him a seat in front of his cluttered desk, piled with folders and papers stacked next to a computer to the right. On the walls were pictures with postings of wanted people and sex offenders from the surrounding towns. Behind the Sheriff’s desk, was a rack of assorted keys. Taking two sets from it, and placing them in front of him, the Sheriff explained each one. “This one goes to Rangers’ Cabin, and this set goes to your town vehicle. I’ll arrange for my deputy to deliver it to you tomorrow afternoon.”

  After shuffling through a draw in his desk for a moment, the Sheriff placed a card in front of him, stating that it was his gas card to use when he required it. He then sat down in his large leather chair to face Joseph and looked at him questioningly. “I gather from the e-mails you and I have exchanged over the past couple of months, that you and the deceased were very close friends. Is that accurate?” he said, as he began fishing through the numerous files on his desk. 

  “That would be correct Sheriff. Jake and I were friends since early childhood. His sudden death came to me as quite a shock, and I would like to see any information about his death to help me find, and possibly put down, the animal responsible for it.”

  Holding the file in his hand with the edge of it under his bottom lip, not being able to shake the feeling that in some way, this man knew what he truly was; and it put him on edge. How could he possibly know? 

  “Are you sure you want to see this report? These pictures are extremely unsettling,” he warned the Ranger.

  “I assure you Sheriff, I have anxiously waited for this moment to investigate this incident, and quite possibly find the justice my good friend deserves. It is the least I can do for him,” the Ranger replied with confidence, filling the room with his deep voice. Placing the folder on the desk, the Sheriff explained that he thought the attack was by a bear or pack of coyotes, but was leaning more toward a bear, because of the massive wounds inflicted. Opening the folder, Whitecloud fought back the bile that crept up his throat, at the first grizzly photo.

  In that photo, Jake was lying on the ground by the lake’s shore. Next to his corpse, his bowels were visible from a massive opening in his belly. Horrible claw marks spread from his face to his throat. The next photo zoomed in on the huge bite that clearly showed his near decapitation. Meat and spine jutted from the fatal wound, as Jake’s head flopped to the side, with the final moments of pain and torture etched on his face. According to the Sheriff’s report, his Deputy discovered Jake’s body the next day and no one heard or witnessed a thing. 

  Looking up from the file, the Sheriff could see the anger and tears welling in the Indian’s eyes. “I’m going to find this animal and put it down.” The Indian said with finality and stood up. “May I borrow this?” he said to the Sheriff, indicating the file. The Sheriff nodded his approval.

  With directions to the cabin from the Sheriff, Whitecloud grabbed his keys and gas card from the desk, said his goodbye, and walked out of the station.

  The directions were accurate, as Whitecloud emerged from the narrow dirt road, into a large clearing in the forest to reveal a mid-sized log cabin to his left. A small, serene lake sprawled out behind it, as two Canadian geese chased each other through the clean, crystal-clear water. As he drove the truck closer, he noticed a cave opening in the cliff face to the left. The remaining clearing was lush with green grass and sounds of wildlife in the forest surrounding it.

  The front of the cabin had a large porch with an overhung roof. Joseph slid the key home, and swung open the heavy oak door to reveal the insides of his new home. He was impressed at the sight of a large stone hearth; a hand carved solid oak mantle resting above, with two leather chairs facing it. Looking up, he could see the open ceiling rafters that were hand-made, much like the rest of the cabin.

  To his right, a kitchen island was equipped with a stove, sink, and dishwasher, with a refrigerator nearby. In the corner beyond, was a beautiful breakfast nook, and with a step up, a huge bay window overlooked the view of the lake. The wooden posts and railings of the nook had intricate vines and flowers carved into them. In the middle sat a wooden table, with booths to either side, equally impressive. Toward the front right of the cabin, another nook contained a single bed pushed up against a large window, with a desk close by. In the left wing was a large bathroom, with a pedestal sink, toilet, and shower. He was shocked to discover a hot tub built for one in the corner. 

  Within a few hours of unpacking his belongings, Joseph Whitecloud decided it was time to explore the cave he noticed when first arriving. The opening of the cave appeared as a dark, yawning mouth, ready to swallow the first victim to enter its ominous reaches. Flashlight in hand, he entered the cave without fear. The dim illumination offered little, except a twenty by twenty space with a circular rock formation in the middle, obviously used as a fire pit at one time.

  Uttering a single word in his native tongue, the pit abruptly burst into mystic fire, illuminating the cave with an eerie pale white light. The reflecting light revealed to him walls made of granite, and the ceiling was at least ten feet high with a crack above the pit, used for ventilation.

  Further inspection along the back wall exposed an opening, just large enough for a man to slip through, leading to a deep chasm, but noticed nothing important when shining his flashlight into it; there would be plenty of time to investigate later, he thought. 

  Untying a swollen leather pouch from his belt, and extracting an ancient ceremonial rattle draped with feathers and Indian markings from his pocket, Whitecloud began the ceremonial chant of protection from evil. He then shook the rattle, and spread the contents of the pouch; a mixture of roots, herbs, and the crushed bones of ancestors long past, across the base of the opening to the chasm. A warping blue field of energy materialized from nowhere, and suddenly became invisible. He then continued the same ceremony in front of the cave, and around the cabin.

  “Thank you, great ancestors, for your grace and protection from any evil trying to enter these dwellings. May your spirits find peace and tranquility,” the Indian mystic shouted to the sky with his arms raised in the air. With that came a gentle breeze, acknowledging that the great spirits heard his prayer.

  The following day, Joseph spent the morning unpacking boxes and situating his various possessions about the cabin. By late afternoon, the Deputy Sheriff pulled up to the cabin in a handsome four wheel drive SUV, painted white and dark green, that appeared to be somewhat new. The words, Forest Ranger and a phone number, marked each side.

  Leaning the smoking pipe his grandfather made for him against the cabin wall, he slowly rose from the comfort of his rocking chair on the porch, to greet his first guest. After observing the officer collecting things inside the vehicle for a few moments, a beautiful, young, Native American woman in uniform emerged from the vehicle to stand before him at the base of the steps.

  Her long, dark, silky hair running down the middle of her back, and her subtle, yet obvious Native features captivated him instantly. Her dark, intense eyes could reach the depths of any man’s soul and unleash wanton desire, yet warn against any such lust, simultaneously.

  With a slight tilt if her head, and stunning sparkle in her eye, she looked at him with a smile, “Are you our new Ranger, Joseph Whitecloud, from New York?” she asked, with an obvious accent that indicated she was not from this part of the country.

  “Yes, I am.” He replied with a smile.

  “My name is Mindy. I’m here to deliver you’re vehicle and welcome you to our quaint little town, and I’ll need you to sign these release forms before I leave,” she said, squinting up at him with the sun in her eyes.

  “Would you care to come in for some tea while I do that?” he asked carefully.

  “Sure. That’s mighty kind of you,” she accepted, as he held the door open for her entry into his new home. “Wow, this place is spectacular. I’ve never been in here before,” she exclaimed with a shocked impression on her delicate face.

  “Have a seat over there,” he said, indicating the breakfast nook.

  Her eyes gazed in wonder at the finely carved artwork of the nook before seating herself in one of the lush benches around the table. “This is absolutely gorgeous. I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything quite like it before, and look at that view,” she stated again in astonishment.

  “I was also quite awestruck when I first seen it,” he explained. He placed the teakettle on the hook above the small fire burning in the hearth. “I could not help but notice that you are Native American. From what tribe are you from?” he asked gently.

  “I am Navajo, she whispered. “And you?” she asked, with curiosity slowly rising in her voice.

  This would explain the odd aura he could feel seeping from her being. Unlike the Sheriff’s tortured and evil soul, hers had a peaceful and natural calmness. Warming his lonely heart, he knew instantly that he could trust this woman, unequivocally. She may very well be a Skinwalker. “I am Iroquois,” he answered her proudly.

  “Ah. The Haudenosaunee, the People of the Longhouse.” She stated, matter-of-factly.                                     

  “You know your history,” he replied, with shock etched upon his face. A deeper respect for her suddenly welled up within him.

  After her initial admiration wore off, she wondered why Jake had never invited her here to this beautiful cabin. Though their time together was short, she found it strange that he never invited her to stay with him here at Rangers’ Cabin. He always came to her place for their rendezvous. Perhaps he just thought of this place as work and did not wanted to mix business with pleaser. She then realized a folder lying before her on the table she had not noticed at first. The name and case number written on the top, however, was very familiar. Jake’s death hit her worst of all. She missed him so much.

  Slowly, she looked up from the painful memories in front of her. Seeing the tears beginning to permeate from her eyes, Joseph looked down at the folder and lifted his head in sudden comprehension. “Great spirits, you knew Jake well,” he stated after a long pause.

  “We were lovers. Even if it was for such a short time, my heart aches without him every passing day. I can’t believe he is gone.” She replied between chocking sobs of dejection.

  Fighting the own lump in his throat, he reached out and held her hand with understanding gentleness. “I know your pain. Jake was my dearest friend since childhood.” Even though they had met just moments ago, Mindy looked at him relieved to have found a common kinship with someone, anyone, she could share her sorrow; feeling so utterly alone.

  After many hours spent reminiscing of Jake and the kind of man he was, how they each had met him, and tales that Joseph could tell her that seemed to cheer her up, Mandy was again in good spirits. “Oh my, it’s been three hours. I need to get back to the station,” she exclaimed, looking at her watch in shock. Joseph nodded his head in agreement, walked her to the truck, and opened the passenger door for her.

  As she put one foot in, she turned to him and said serenely, “I really enjoyed our conversation. You made me realize that life can go on without the ones we love, as long as we keep them dear in our hearts. Thank you so much Joseph.” She then learned over, kissed him gently on the cheek, and smiled at him with her brown eyes filled with a kind of peace she had been missing for some time. He dropped her off at the stationhouse with a wave goodbye and a renewed sense of vigor. He knew his new home and friend would fill the dark void he was feeling with a bright new ember of hope and meaningfulness.

  Later that evening, Joseph lay in bed by the window, watching light and shadows of the fireplace play hide and seek in the rafters, drifting slowly into sleep, thinking only of Mindy and her gentle spirit.