The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

Chapter 34

Like a frightened kitten Lynnette crept into the semi-busy police station where a light stream of disorderly traffic swept through the floor; from officers escorting pimps and prostitutes, to drug addicts and homeless people being processed at various points throughout the area. This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

In Lynnette's mind everyone that surrounded her were shadows that were caving in on her. She held her boney arms as though she were freezing cold while trying not to make physical contact with any of the other undesirables that resided in the station's front lobby.

Ahead of her was a long podium that stretched at least fifty feet wide. At the very center of the podium was an older black lady who was dressed in full police regalia and steadily writing away on a piece of paper while successfully ignoring the rest of the world around her.

"Excuse me." Lynnette meekly gawked at the woman.

The lady, who was still scribbling away on her piece of paper, didn't remove her eyes from her duty.

"Can I help you?" She mumbled.

"My...my son has been kidnapped." Lynnette stammered.

At the snap of a finger the lady stopped writing and looked straight at Lynnette asking with a suddenly concerned look, "How long ago was your son taken?"

"I...I don't know for sure. Maybe about an hour ago or something."

"Okay, just hold on, I'll be right back," the woman said while getting up from out of her seat and walking away.

Lynnette stood by and watched as the unnamed shadows passed by her in a simultaneous chorus of blundering chaos. She didn't know whether to remain at the podium or simply walk away altogether.

She couldn't stop shaking, and the more she thought of Isaiah the more she just wanted to break down and bawl all over the floor. It had been months since she had control over her own being.

"Can I help you?" A middle-aged, black police officer approached Lynnette.

Lynnette looked at the man and tried to speak. "I...my son has been taken away."

"Okay, follow me and we'll see what we can do."

The man led Lynnette away from the open floor and to a series of desks that were located in an adjacent area. Within the area were other officers who were either heading home for the evening or just beginning their shifts.

The officer pulled out a chair for Lynnette to sit in. Seated just three feet beside her was another desk where a white man who was disguised as a mime was arguing with an officer.

"Okay, my name is Officer Barron." The man said as he sat down behind his desk. "And what is your name, ma'am?"

"Uh, Lynnette Glover," she timidly replied. Barron paused for a bit looking as if he were trapped inside a thought.

"Glover, Glover. Why does that name sound so familiar?" He tapped his fingers on his desk. "It doesn't matter. Miss Glover, can you describe your son for me, please?"

"He's two years old. He has...he has." Lynnette tried and tried so diligently but could not seem to conjure a mere picture of her son in her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not thinking very clearly right now.."

"That's okay, but we need some kind of description in order to get this search underway. Now, what was he wearing when you last saw him?"

"I...I don't know for sure."

Barron placed his pen down onto the desk before sitting and studying Lynnette very meticulously.

"Miss Glover, are you sure that your son is even missing?"

"Yes, yes he is!" Lynnette hurried to say. "You see, I haven't been home in a few days. I've been...working a lot."

Barron continued to hand the young woman the 'square eye' before he picked up his pen and began writing all over again.

"Can you possibly give me anything to go on? Something about your son that we could latch on to in order to make this easier," Barron persisted.

Lynnette bore down as hard as she could before blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "He has curly hair and a scar on his left hand that his...father gave him."

"Curly hair and a scar on his left hand," Barron recited to himself while writing. "Is it possible that his father—

Barron right there stopped himself before taking his pen and nibbling on the very tip while staring on at Lynnette. "Now I remember that name." He said in a low voice.

Lynnette only turned her head and blushed the longer Barron looked at her. "Miss Glover, where was your son when he was abducted?"

"He was with my parents at their house."

"Okay, and what's your parents' address?"

"2167 Anders Road."

"Would your parents be able to give an accurate description of your son? It would help."

Shaking her head in a futile manner, Lynnette said, "No, they were both attacked this evening, too."

"I'm taking that this was a burglary?"

"Yes."

"Did your parents happen to get a description of the intruder or intruders?"

"My mother said that there was—

Lynnette's brain came to a complete and abrupt stop at that very instant. All she could think of was what her mother had mentioned.

"Miss Glover, are you okay?" Barron waved his hand in front of her blank, pale face.

At once, Lynnette started to tremble all over again. "My...my mama said that there were three?" She turned her head.

"Who were the other two?" She then began to cry.

Reaching his hand out, Barron said, "Okay, Miss Glover, I'm going to need you to calm down."

"She said there were three of them!" Lynnette sobbed loud enough for everyone within earshot to hear.

"Miss Glover, please try and calm yourself."

"But I don't know who the other two were!"

"Look, I know exactly how you feel. I have two sons of my own." Barron said. "But in order for us to find your child, I need for you to settle down and tell me everything you know."

Lynnette wiped her face clean before clasping her hands together as tight as possible. "I know one of them." She whimpered. "She had these brown eyes and afro puffs. She was dark skinned. The last time I saw her was in Skyler Park."

Writing on his pad, Barron asked, "Okay, what about the other two?"

"That's just it, I don't know of any other two." Lynnette tried to catch her breath. "My mother said that there were three of them, but I only know of the woman."

"Is it possible that this woman could be part of a gang?" Barron inquired. "We have been seeing a spike in gang activity in the city as of late."

Lynnette shut her eyes for a few seconds before opening them and exhaling the warm air around her. The words she wanted and needed to say were right there on the very tip of her dry tongue, all she had to do was open her mouth and let them flow.

In a very calm voice, Lynnette explained, "I'm going to tell you something that you won't believe at first, but it needs to be said all the same."

Officer Barron sat up close and personal to the young woman while not batting a single eyelash as he stared hard at her.

"What I am about to tell you won't sound...real, but it's all I have. These animal killings that have been happening, I know of—

At that very moment, a loud commotion erupted from clear on the other side of the area. It was two men wrestling with several police officers on their way into the station.

At once, everyone within the vicinity, from officers to victims and perps, stopped what they were doing and directed their attention at the melee which began sprawling all onto the floor, making it appear like

a mad riot.

"You're gonna have to excuse me!" Barron breathlessly stated as he shot up from out of his chair and raced towards the scene to aid.

At once, numerous officers all descended upon the two unruly men in order to subdue the turmoil, while Lynnette sat by in her chair and watched in astonishment.

Both of her hands trembled on her lap as her teeth chattered. Lynnette was wrapped up in all sorts of misery, from the spurts of profanity-laced mayhem clear on the other side of the room, to her own son; no matter what, the woman could not catch a simple breath. She had spent months ignoring Isaiah to the point where at times she forgot that the boy actually existed.

All every thought seemed to do was make her body shudder from head to toe. She couldn't believe that he was gone. The same child that she hadn't seen in days was nowhere to be found, and just knowing that something beyond darkness had taken him to God knows where only made her want to throw up right on the floor beneath her.

"Tea," a man's voice suddenly spoke.

Lynnette looked all around until her eyes connected with the man seated only three feet to her right at the next desk.

"What?" She cleared her throat.

"I said, tea." The young man in his mime disguise casually remarked from his chair. "Drinking a warm cup of tea will calm those jitters."

Trying to gather herself, Lynnette sat up in her seat and wiped her misty eyes. "Thanks." She stuttered.

"Believe me, sister, I used to shoot up, too. That is until a good friend told me about the wonderful effects of tea calming the nerves."

Appearing flabbergasted, Lynnette looked at the man and arrogantly said, "For you information, I am not high."

All it took was for the man to stare at Lynnette's scarred up arms for her to turn away from him in total embarrassment.

"Look, I'm sorry your kid is missing, but the last thing you need is to be in here of all places shaking like a leaf. These cops see it every day. The cop that was attending to you isn't stupid."

Lynnette tried her hardest not to look at the man, who with his makeup only appeared as a scary clown in her eyes, despite his carefree tone.

"Look at that mess over there." He nodded his head.

Lynnette slightly turned her head to view the carnage that was still taking place in the middle of the floor.

"These people are so understaffed due to most of them walking the beat after this wild animal that's running loose." The man explained. "That's why I'm here now. No, I take that back," he sniggered. "I'm actually here because I was harassing this elderly couple. They said they would give me five dollars for my routine, but once I was through, the old geezers just up and walked away. Next thing I know, I'm sitting here in a police station missing 'Welcome back Kotter.'"

"Maybe it's a good thing that you're sitting in here and not out there." Lynnette found the courage to speak up.

"Maybe you're right." The man relented.

Sitting in her cozy chair with her arms wrapped around her body in the hopes that her shakes would end, Lynnette watched in silent comfort as the officers eventually brought the two men to their knees. In her drowsy eyes it was like watching a movie.

"There's something out there, and there's nothing any of us can do to kill it." Her voice faltered. "I've seen it before with my own two eyes."

"Wait a minute, you've actually seen this animal before?" The mime asked amazed.

"Yeah, twice now," she replied. "Ever since then...I know what the devil looks like. He either has fur, or he tells me how fine I am."

"You sound like a poet." The mime said.

"No, I'm not, I just see people for who they really are."

"Yeah, so do I." The man began to rub off the white paint from his face. "I've been cooped up inside this station for the past three hours, and in those three hours I've had the opportunity to see all sorts of characters besides myself." He indignantly stated. "You see that old, black lady over there?" He pointed. "She has a complaint about her neighbors' dogs that keep barking all night. Then you have that guy right there, the bald, white fellow. He's in here complaining that a hooker didn't give him the blowjob he paid for. Then there's that guy right over there in the cuffs. The black kid. This joker actually walked in here on his own volition a while ago. Apparently he's been running around town for the past few days harassing people. The cops have been searching for him ever since Henderson's speech the other day. Then suddenly he stumbles up in here looking for someone himself. What luck? Yep, the police station seems to bring out who we really are really quickly, especially when there's a full moon out."

Lynnette studied each person carefully until she came eye to eye with the aforementioned bearded, 'black kid' that the mime spoke of last.

The young man sat cuffed to his chair staring right back at Lynnette in the most distressed manner possible, as if he wanted to reach out for her in the worst way, even though he was fifty or so feet apart from her.

Lynnette tried to divert both her eyes and attention away from the man, but the more she twisted and squirmed in her seat, that was all the more she couldn't seem to escape his doom gaze.

"God, I wish they would hurry and at least put me in a cell already." The mime grumbled. "I can't take this sitting a second longer."

The more time passed that was the antsier and more uncomfortable Lynnette became, until after so long she couldn't bear it any longer. She got up from out of her chair and began walking away.

"Hey, what about your missing kid, lady?" The mime tossed up his hands in confusion.

But Lynnette blew him off as she carried on past one busy officer after another. At that point, and after so much anarchy her brain had been reduced to mush. Isaiah was still fresh in her heart, but Lynnette desired to be away from prowling eyes, officers and mimes.

As she came closer to the handcuffed man Lynnette couldn't help but to quickly glance at him on her way out the door.

"Lynn!" Cloyse shouted.

Lynnette nearly fell to the floor trying to stop. When she gazed down all she could see was Cloyse looking back up at her like a lost, desperate puppy panting for water.

"Who...who are you?" She fumbled over her own tongue.

Scooting his chair closer to her, Cloyse gasped, "You are alive."

Lynnette only backed away from the feverish man as though he had a disease. "Who are you?" She started to shake all over again.

Cloyse appeared as if he were about to cry. His face and clothes were saturated in sweat, while his bloodshot eyes gave the impression that he hadn't rested in ages.

Lynnette could only see a fraught, pathetic man before her who could have been high on the same kinds of drugs she had been indulging in for the past few months; his looks wouldn't have proven otherwise.

"Please...let me out of here." He grieved.

"I don't know you." Lynnette turned up her nose before pulling away from Cloyse.

"I can see in your face dat you have seen them!" He said out loud.

Lynnette once more stopped before turning back around and frowning, "Nigga, what are you talking about?"

Cloyse dropped his head for a moment before looking back up and saying, "You have seen Arthur and his sister."

"Who," Lynnette clinched her fists.

"The two with de eyes," Cloyse remarked.

Lynnette's left foot tapped so hard on the floor from fear that she could hardly even stand in place.

"Who are you and what are you talking about?"

"I too have seen dem. I have seen dem all of my life. Dey are here, in dis city. Dey have come for you."

Lynnette's eyes couldn't have gotten any wider than they were at that painstaking instant. She heard the words coming out of Cloyse's mouth, but she honestly couldn't believe what she was listening to.

"I don't know you!" She yelled. "Who's coming for me?"

"Okay, fella, that'll do it for you." A male, white officer came up behind Cloyse and began to uncuff him from the chair that he was attached to.

"No, no, I need to speak with him!" Lynnette urged the officer.

"Lady, I have to get this guy to a cell, pronto." The officer began dragging Cloyse away.

"Miss Glover, I need for you to come back to my desk so we can finish your missing persons report." Officer Barron came up behind Lynnette.

Anxiously, Lynnette spun around and said, "I have to talk to him!" she pointed at Cloyse.

"Miss Glover, this guy has been harassing—

"I know all that, but it's important that I speak with him!" Lynnette pleaded with Barron. "Something tells me that he may know where my son is!"

Barron and the white officer both stood and eyed each other. Lynnette then approached Cloyse and asked in an adamant tone, "Just where have you been these past few days, Charles?"

Cloyse's face took on a more confounded glare. For a second or two he gawked all around wondering just who she was addressing.

"You've been running all over the city bothering folks when all you had to do was take your medication." Lynnette continued. "Why didn't you come home the other night like I told you?" Lynnette then turned to

Barron. "He's my cousin...from Africa. Me and the family have been looking all over for him. Thank God you all found him."

"Well, he actually found us." The white officer commented. "He came in here a couple of hours ago looking for some woman."

Patting Cloyse on the shoulder, Lynnette looked doe-eyed at the man and said, "Poor Charles, he must mean Aunt Wilma." She then turned back to Barron. "She was his mother who died three years ago. You see, without his medication, he's a complete mess. If I could just take him home then he'll be out of your hair before you know it."

The white officer stepped forward and tried to say, "Look, I don't—

"Hold on, I think there's a little con game going on here." Officer Barron halted the officer. "Let him go."

The officer looked at Barron as to say releasing Cloyse was out of the question.

"Just let him go, Lord knows we've got a hundred other problems to deal with at the moment."

Ever so reluctantly, the officer unlocked Cloyse's cuffs. Lynnette then took the man by the arm and began leading him towards the front door.

"Thank you so much." She smiled at both officers.

"Do us all a favor and stay off the streets, the both of you." Barron rolled his eyes as he walked away.

Forcefully escorting Cloyse out the door, Lynnette whispered into his ear, "What do you know about me?"

Rubbing his sore wrists, Cloyse glared his confused eyes at Lynnette before replying, "I know why Arthur and Akoni are here."

"Who and who," Lynnette shrugged her shoulders.

"De two devils dat are here in dis town," Cloyse said, sounding as if she should have known what he was talking about.

"But you know my name."

Cloyse looked all around at the lively downtown scenery before turning back to Lynnette. "I know a lot of tings. I have traveled very far to find my sister, and to hunt dem down and kill dem."

Lynnette's mind was racing faster than the vehicles that were flying down the street past her. The woman didn't even know what day it was.

"Okay, if you know about me, then do you know anything about my son, too? Apparently these same devils that you speak of came to my parents' house and took him."

Cloyse's eyes began to water up at that instant. All Lynnette could seem to do upon staring at him was try and restrain her own knees from buckling like they wanted to.

"Where is my son?" She whimpered.

"I...I did not know dat dey took your child." Cloyse's voice broke up.

"Well, they did!" Lynnette screamed into his face. "You need to tell me where they took him, because those police in there now think I'm full of shit, and I don't know what else to do!"

Cloyse put his hands on his hips and paced back and forth on the sidewalk. But Lynnette was persistent in her urging as she yanked the man by his arm and whipped him back to her face.

"Tell me what you know!" She hysterically hollered.

"I only know what I can see." Cloyse looked her straight in the eye.

"What does that mean?" Cloyse pulled his arm away from Lynnette's hold before placing his hands over his face in a hopeless manner.

Lynnette, on the other hand, felt even more destitute and pointless. All she saw before her was a complete stranger who could have been just as evil as the ones that abducted her son as far as she was concerned.

She folded her arms and began a stroll of her own back and forth upon the pavement until she came to a stop at a newspaper vending port where the headlines read only of the animal attacks.

"Are you hungry?" She asked with her back still turned to Cloyse.

"I am...very much." Cloyse pitifully muttered.

With her hazy eyes still reading the newspaper headline, Lynnette adamantly said, "Then follow me."

Lynnette began down the busy sidewalk with Cloyse following in behind like a lost child in tow.

***

"I can't believe that lady just up and left without even trying to find her own kid." The mime kept on marveling while guzzling down his fourth cup of water from a Styrofoam cup.

"You know how these colored broads are." The older, white male officer ranted as he plucked away at his typewriter on his desk. "They drop these kids then forget all about them."

With only scant traces of white paint on his face, the mime responded, "She probably doesn't even have a son for all we know. But who am I to judge? I dress up like a clown every other night."

"You got that right, pal." The officer snickered. "Now, we're gonna let you go simply because we don't have any more room in the cells. But a piece of advice, quit harassing old folks, nobody cares about

mimes anymore."

"That's one thing you don't have to worry about, Officer." The mime pressed his hands together in a praying fashion. "If I ever even think of miming again you can lock me under the jail."

"Alright, get outta here, and don't let me see you down here again."

Ecstatic, the young man got up from out of his seat only to be stopped by the unnerving sounds of what could only be described as howling coming from outside the building.

In fact, everyone that resided on the first floor of the building all paused what they were doing at that very instant just to take notice of the two beasts that howled a succession of nighttime chants for at least a full minute.

It was an eerie noise to hear in the city of all places; it was just as uncanny to see everyone inside the station's first floor come to a complete and utter stop as though each and every heart had ceased in their usual routine. A person could actually hear a pencil fall to the floor. Even the telephones had stopped ringing right then.

Slowly sitting himself back down in his chair, the mime, with a trembling pair of hands and his face pointed at the windows, said to the equally speechless officer, "Uhh...did I mention that I raped a lady last week, too?"