Hell's Roundabout. Benjamin Vance

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СКАЧАТЬ on the bad side of drunks, druggies, shoplifters, loiterers, speeders and possibly a homeless person or family passing through. Road accidents were not his cup of tea in any case. Certainly, the horror Army was presently standing among hadn’t happened in the Sheriff’s quiet town before ... had it?

      When he finally regained control of his precocious vomiting reflex, we wandered over to where current Deputy-in-charge, Larry Englestein was gingerly kicking at part of a plastic car fender in a futile attempt to kick it over with the sharp toe of his Western boot. He did it that way so he wouldn’t have to get his face too close to whatever may have been lurking under it.

      “Larry, you ever see anything like this? How many vehicles do you think blew up or came apart or whatever?”

      “Hell, Army I’ve never seen anything like this! I’m gonna get Andy to send us a couple more guys to help out the Coroner. I’m sure glad it’s cold so this mess hopefully doesn’t start stinkin’ before we get it cleaned up. You wanna take guard tonight or do I give it to one of the other guys?”

      “Yeah, I guess I can, if you give me time to get a baby sitter for Charley and get a little supper. I sure don’t want to drag him up here to see this mess. When are we going to open the roundabout again?”

      “Well, I guess routing people around the entire area will have to continue to work for us ‘til we get a better handle on cleanin’ this mess up. The coroner’s guys’ve been here all morning and still haven’t found enough parts for a complete human. I’m gonna go down and talk to Les Gilbert and just see what he needs. Call your baby sitter, ‘cause I sure as shit don’t wanna sit out here tonight; this place gives me the creeps.” As he turned to go, “Thanks, Army, I owe you one.”

      Lucy, the baby sitter was willing because the little thing had a crush on Army and because she needed the money to buy makeup and a present for her current boy-friend. Army and Charley had supper at Lennie’s Restaurant and Army dropped Charley and Lucy off at his apartment on the way back to the accident site. When he arrived he spoke to Les Gilbert, the Coroner and got updated on all the horrific details to include a dog having been in one of the vehicles. Les just shook his head at the grisly details.

      By the time Les and his crew left to deposit their findings in a cooler and a more secure place at the morgue, it was getting dark. It got dark early in the canyon country; the sun set at about 5:30 p.m. and usually there was a spectacular sunset in November. Army watched it introspectively, as he sipped coffee and made his first walk around the large perimeter of the incident site. His patrol SUV sat at the Eastern perimeter with its lights flashing and motor idling. It would idle all night to provide a warm refuge and spot of light in the otherwise black night of the canyon country. Although penetrated by an occasional set of car lights detouring at the flashing traffic barricades, there was no darker place than a canyon with scant stars, no moon and only dark, ominous pines for company.

      By the time he climbed into his SUV and stretched out his six foot, two inch frame, night was totally upon him. He tested his spot light, flashlight and night vision monocular. They all worked well. He removed his insulated winter hat, smoothed back his unruly, brown hair, snuggled down in his seat with coffee nestled in the console and dimmed out his interior lights. All he could see then were the reflections of his emergency lights on the trees, rocks and wrecked reflective vehicle parts.

      He let his mind wander to the innocent people and dog killed in the horrific split-second it took to blow the vehicles to kingdom come. One moment they were alive and full of life and the next … gone literally to pieces; not a genuinely kind way to go, but quick and probably painless. Overall, not so bad, he guessed. As his mind wandered through the idiosyncrasies and possibilities of his own life, he thought he noticed a dim green light deep among the trees on the hill.

      It was there for just a second, but he watched the area more intently until his eyes started playing tricks on him. He thought he’d seen something about a hundred feet to the north of the previous glow. Then, there it was again for sure, very subtle, but greenish blue, without shadows. He turned on his spotlight and shattered his night vision, but found its brightness comforting somehow. He directed it at the light source, but couldn’t see anything except more carnage and trees. He searched the hillside thoroughly and saw no light or light source at all. He felt a tingle go up his spine.

      He really didn’t want to, but he quenched the spotlight and gave his brown eyes time to develop more visual purple. He reflexively pushed the door lock button on his armrest. He waited … then he saw it again; the faintest column of blue green as it danced faintly and sensuously along the hillside and then disappeared. He thought of his night vision monocular, turned it on, shut off the emergency lights and removed the covers from the eyepiece and objective lenses of the monocular. Before he got it to his eye he saw the bright shimmering revealed on his shirt and pants. He could hardly believe his eye when he looked through the scope. There were columns of light, flashes of light, balls of light and subtler indescribable visions he couldn’t comprehend. What he saw was only the light of a limited spectrum, but his mind reeled at the source and the spectacle.

      He willed the eyepiece from its place over his right eye and looked blankly at the bleak darkness before him with his left. It was unbelievable. He held the scope up again and used the palm of his hand as a movie screen to watch the machinations of infra-red light reflecting from the scope. He had a whim and turned on his siren for just a second, not in his wildest dreams believing it would make a difference, but in the deep recesses of his mind hoping it would scare away the boogie man. The lights didn’t stop.

      Finally getting his wits together and rationalizing there could be some biologic or perhaps fundamental geologic reason for the lights, he turned on his spot and slowly swept the hillside one last time before he turned on the emergency lights again and exited the vehicle to inspect the hillside more closely. He notified the dispatcher, locked the doors electronically and made his way around and through the wreckage toward the area behind the trees using his big flashlight on left shoulder and right hand on pistol. He approached the area where he saw the lights and saw a faint green glow quickly pass in front of him. Then it came back like a will of the wisp, seemingly just to startle him.

      He walked toward its last trajectory, then saw it coming from his right. He stood his ground, but as it passed over him he felt his pistol strangely pull forward. He tightened his grip and pushed it down into its black polymer holster only to find it was already locked tightly and would still take the light pressure of his index finger to release its full potential. He stood in place and let several slivers of greenish blue and bluish green light pass over and around him. Each time his pistol and belt moved ever so slightly. It finally dawned on him he was in some sort of magnetic field, but he decided to move past the line of light and go higher up the slope. However, he did not leave the light behind; it seemed to sense and follow him.

      After he’d gone about 50 yards through some young pines and entered a small grassy park among the older pine grove, he noticed he was without green ghost lights. He turned around, looked back down the hill and was treated to the most beautiful light spectacle he’d ever seen. There were even rare flashes of some red shades. The slivers, ghosts, lines, and bundles of colored light danced and pirouetted sensuously; seeming for his eyes only. They covered an area he estimated to be about six hundred feet along the side of the hill and were over a hundred feet thick from top to bottom of the slope. Some of the colored spires reached beyond the old tree tops and into the night sky toward the few beckoning stars.

      Once he’d passed the lights, turned and looked down to admire the spectacle, he thought to safely release the white-knuckled grasp on his pistol. In fact he’d been unconsciously increasing the downward pressure on his pistol as he walked uphill, so when he tentatively removed his blood-starved hand, his pistol and holster pivoted rearward toward the mountain side like a compass needle. He then decided not to remain on the hill and began a calm, deliberate and entertained retreat.

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