But with a Whimper

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

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Laager
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Laager » Mon Sep 13, 2010 7:49 am

Two more posts, what a great morning....thank you for the additional posts. This is one heck of a good story.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Yeti » Mon Sep 13, 2010 10:08 am

I think all the sheriff's need to get together.
It would help prevent the outbreak we know is coming.
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Ponyboy314 » Mon Sep 13, 2010 6:13 pm

“Los Alamos County Sheriff’s Department, this is Deputy Collins. How can I help you?”

Henry replied, “Could you please get me the Sheriff? Is he in his office?”

“Yes he is, but he’s rather busy at the moment. Who can I tell him is calling?”

“This is Henry Dane, Chief of Police for the town of Red River. Please tell him that this involves his investigation of the missing campers in the Jemez.”

There was a pause of a few seconds on the other end of the line, replaced by low muttering that could not be understood on Henry’s end.

“Deputy Collins, did you hear me?”

“Yes, Chief Dane. Please hold for a second.”

After another few seconds, during which Henry was mercifully spared any muzak while on hold, the line picked up again. “This is Sheriff Stahl. Is this Chief Henry Dane from the Red River Police?”

“Yes it is, Sheriff.”

“Deputy Collins tells me that this involves our missing campers in the Jemez, Chief. I hope that he spoke correctly.”

“Well Sheriff, I wanted to see if there was anything we can do to assist in your investigation on my end.”

“So you don’t have any information on the Maturin family, or on Christopher Nessman? I presume that you know those names, Chief.”

“I do, Sheriff. But I led an investigation on a case here in Red River a few weeks back and some of the circumstances were similar to another case out in San Miguel County. I’m wondering about the likelihood that these three cases are somehow linked.”

“Linked how, Chief Dane?”

“Well, this isn’t exactly the first missing person case we’ve had in this state recently. I don’t know to what degree you’re aware, but there was a missing person case in Raton sometime back, and two more in Las Vegas. Our Las Vegas, not Nevada. This is more than usual in New Mexico, and I can only wonder to what degree this is coincidence.”

“You stop believing in coincidence when you’ve been on the job as long as I have, Chief Dane.”

“Well, I read in the papers about the details that led your office to believe that perhaps foul play may have played a part in the disappearance, the details that you probably did not want leaked to the press.”

“Right about that, Chief. If I find out who in my department blabbed to the press about that, I’m going to string him up by the ankles and clock him in the balls with a bat. Anyway, you were saying?”

“Well believe me Sheriff, I try to keep tabs on missing persons cases in the state, because of the number of such persons who have a habit of turning up in out-of-the-way places like Red River. People who don’t want to be found, that sort of thing. The case out of Raton ended in my town, for example, and there was a case of a missing teenage girl from Las Vegas who wound up in Pecos, for another.”

“And if you don’t mind me asking Chief, how did those turn out? I seem to remember something on the wire about some guy from Raton who got killed accidentally in Red River, but what about the Las Vegas case?”

“That one ended on a rather violent note as well, Sheriff.”

There were a few seconds of silence on the line, but a few muffled sounds could be heard after that. Henry guessed what that meant. More than likely, it meant that Sheriff Stahl was speaking to someone with his hand cupped over the receiver.

“Well Chief Dane, it sounds like you’re talking about those who get up and leave, hoping that someone won’t find them. That’s sure as hell not what we have here. I have a hard time believing that our missing family and ranger were running from something, you understand?”

“I’m not suggesting that either my case or the one in Las Vegas involved people trying to disappear, Sheriff. That’s only the reason I try to stay informed of missing persons cases. I’m suggesting that all three cases have a few things in common that might link them, because they seem somewhat out of the ordinary.”

“I see. Okay, let’s cut to the chase. What exactly are you asking for here, Chief?”

“Well, my theory that these cases might be linked leaves me with the belief that we should be working together in an information-sharing capacity. I’d like to share some details of my case and perhaps some from the cases out in Las Vegas, and see if we can determine a pattern of some kind.”

“So, you really think our cases could be linked?”

“I’m open to the possibility, Sheriff Stahl.”

There was another long pause on the other end of the line. “Chief, any chance you can make a trip to my office here in Los Alamos in the next day or two? And bring any information from your case files that you think might be relevant?”

“I expect I can, Sheriff. I’ll call you later and tell you when I’m coming.”
"If you have a milkshake, and I have a milkshake, and there's a straw, there it is, that's a straw...and my straw reaches...acrosssssssss the room, and begins to drink your milkshake. I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE! SLURRRP! I DRINK IT UP!

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Laager » Mon Sep 13, 2010 7:03 pm

Hope this turns out for the best, for some odd reason I get the idea that Los Alamos County Sheriff’s Department is holding back something, but it could just be my over active imagination.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Ponyboy314 » Tue Sep 14, 2010 12:01 am

After hanging up, Henry went out to speak to Erika, who did not yet know why she had to call the Los Alamos County Sheriff’s Department, even though with recent events she had a pretty good guess.

“Erika, I have to go down to Los Alamos tomorrow or the next day, more likely the next day. I’d probably be back the same day, but I might end up staying the night.”

“What, you’re involving yourself in that missing family thing?”

“I think I have to. I just don’t have a source for inside information right now, at least not with that case, and I think I need a link to the local guys over there. And you ought to know this. It’s not just a missing family anymore. I read the Journal this morning. One of the front page articles said that the ranger that found their campsite and reported them missing, you remember him?”

“Not really.”

“He’s disappeared, too. Vanished in the trees just a few dozen yards from his own search team. No sign of him.”

“And you think that what happened to Greg Lemme and that girl from Las Vegas, and that family…happened to him?”

“Hell of a coincidence if it didn’t. But the Los Alamos Sheriff’s Office didn’t tell the press everything, and probably won’t, and most likely neither would I. You know those press assholes. All those crusading “investigative reporters” who love nothing more than uncovering cases of police corruption or incompetence or misconduct or whatever, just so they can high-five themselves and play the part of the tireless champions of the truth or whatever the hell those dicks call themselves. I get it. That’s part of the reason that the Leland Plessy case was…what’s the term…edited for television?”

“What do you think you’re going to get out of this, Henry? Running around with the Sheriff of Los Alamos County and all that?”

“Probably nothing, probably something. But I need to see if there’s anything he could share with me but wouldn’t share with the press. But if this continues, and I play my cards right, I might be able to start some kind of network, you know? A bunch of different sources of information so that if anything pops up, I’ll know about it. With that Greg Lemme/Leland Plessy case, I at least can claim to be the first to investigate this rash of missing persons directly. That might help me get a few favors. But if I say that the Plessy case and the disappearances in the Jemez might be linked, I think it’ll grease a few wheels. You know, you scratch my back, so on and so forth.”

“Well, I hope something shakes loose up there.”

“So do I, Erika. So do I.”

It was getting on to four that afternoon when Henry got on the phone with Nathan Marr. Having traded numerous e-mails over the previous weeks, it had been a while since they had spoken on the phone. Henry didn’t have the luxury to wait for a reply e-mail.

“Taos County Medical Examiner’s Office. May I help you?”

“Doctor Marr, please.”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“Chief Henry Dane, Red River Police Department.”

“Hold please.”

This time, the on-hold muzak hit full force, and it was about eleven or twelve seconds worth of a muzak version of “Ramble On” by Led Zeppelin (which Henry regarded as blasphemy, as would any other reasonable person), Nathan picked up.

“Henry, long time, no hear.”

“Hey Nathan. I thought you should know that I’ve got a meeting this week with the Los Alamos County Sheriff. I wanted to touch base with him about that disappearing family down his way.”

“What do you mean, ‘touch base with him?’ A little out of your neighborhood, isn’t it?”

“But he’s now dealing with a case involving six missing people and no leads, at least none that he’s told the press. I told him about Greg Lemme being a missing person from Raton, as well as two more missing people from Frank Benevidez’s area, that Dubois girl and Edward Hernandez. This many missing people in this short a time…I told him that our cases might be linked and that we should exchange information, so I’m heading over there in the next day or two and taking my case file on the Lemme/Plessy case.”

“Well Henry, I certainly hope that you’re only presenting the ‘official’ version of the Plessy investigation.”

“Of course. You do know that I’m not a raging retard, right Nathan?”

“What are you expecting, Henry? Huh? You really think that they’ve figured out what they’re up against out there? You really think he’d believe you if you told him?”

“I’m not telling him anything that we haven’t already told our own powers that be. But I need some backup on this one. I need him realizing that something is going on and more than one person has picked up on it. I might need your help, but more than that, I might need Frank Benevidez’s help.”

“How’s that? What can Frank do?”

“I might need Frank to get in touch with the Sheriff of Los Alamos County also. His name is Lucas Stahl. I might need Stahl to see how widespread this whole “missing persons” deal is. If we can tell him convincingly that all of this is somehow connected, he might just be willing to spill his guts about every damned thing he knows. Crap shoot I know, but that’s what I’ve got.”
Last edited by Ponyboy314 on Tue Sep 14, 2010 5:50 am, edited 2 times in total.
"If you have a milkshake, and I have a milkshake, and there's a straw, there it is, that's a straw...and my straw reaches...acrosssssssss the room, and begins to drink your milkshake. I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE! SLURRRP! I DRINK IT UP!

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Ponyboy314 » Tue Sep 14, 2010 4:19 am

The following day, that being Monday, Henry was able to call Sheriff Stahl in Los Alamos and inform him that he would be making the trip Tuesday morning. He wanted to spend at least some of the day getting a few things in order to keep them running smoothly while he was gone. One of those was leaving Martin in charge while Henry was away, but another, and to Henry the far more important, was having Erika stay with Madeline if he had to remain in Los Alamos overnight. Sheriff Stahl promised that the county would set Henry up in a hotel if he had to stay more than one day, and Henry began to believe that this trip might be a little more involved than he initially believed. Henry got out the station’s Ar15 and a few magazines with pouches, placing them in the trunk of his cruiser, while Erika watched, wide-eyed.

“Henry, I thought you were going down to Los Alamos to exchange information or something. What the hell are you taking that thing for?”

“Because going into Los Alamos could mean driving right by five infected family members and one park ranger on the side of the road. I’m not going over the road unless I can deal with whatever I find on the way, and I’ll be within spitting distance of six of those freaks. I’d just rather have it and not need it than…oh, you know the rest.”

“Yeah, I do. You really think you’ll be gone for longer than just the day?”

“Sheriff Stahl seems to think it’s possible. But remember, if I have to stay overnight, shack up with Madeline. I don’t want you past the tree line alone. Hell, I don’t want you anywhere alone, you know?”

“Okay you worry wart. I’ll stay with Madeline. But if she and Jay make any kind of freaky monkey noises while they screw, I’m going back to my place.”

“Wait, they’re screwing now?”

“I don’t know, but if they are, I don’t want to hear Jay squeaking like a dog toy when Madeline gets him off.”

“Okay…okay…umm…anyway, I think we should go out to eat tonight, just because, well, we should. Want to hit the Griddle?”

“Naw, Mazzio’s.”

“Okay, Mazzio’s it is.”

Dinner was nice, and since the tables had a habit of being fairly close together, it was rather easy for Henry to stay clear of the issue that had dominated his thinking for the last few weeks. Instead, they chatted about whether or not Jay and Madeline would go the distance, and then spoke of the same about Martin and Gina. Another topic was if Henry was back by Friday (which he was pretty sure he would be), should they break from tradition and hit The Rough Rider and do their part to keep Lew Clancy in business. The conversation got on to what they would do when Henry’s birthday hit (which would be late August), and by the time their food arrived, had narrowed it down to a few days in Hawaii, where neither had ever been, or perhaps New York, where Henry had been long before but Erika never had.

There was no talking whatsoever about what was happening in the dark corners of New Mexico, or the reason behind Henry’s trip to Los Alamos, or even that he was taking the trip at all, apart from whether or not he would be back by Friday. They talked instead of more conventional things, and both were happy to have a normal conversation for once. True, what was out there would once again be stalking Henry’s mind by the next day, but for now, he was having a nice dinner with his girl, and for a short while, the world seemed normal.

That night, Henry packed for a few days (more than he thought he would need) and among the things he took was something from his gun cabinet. He had three handguns in there (not counting the Kimber M1911 that Henry almost always wore), and one of them was a Walther PP that Henry sometimes kept in the glove box of his cruiser, while there was also the Beretta 92 he purchased himself after a couple of years on the Santa Fe Force when he realized he didn’t much care for the Glock he was issued, and then there was the Smith and Wesson .357, a 686 model with a seven shot cylinder, which he bought at Outdoorsman’s Outpost a few months after arriving in Red River after hearing about the bears that sometimes sniffed around the houses inside the tree line (Henry had lived in his cabin for years, but no bears or mountain lions had ever come calling, so far as he knew). He took his .357 slapped it in a vinyl holster before locking it in his pistol case. He, for some reason, thought that it might be a handy thing to have.

Then, they showered together and had sex. It was a truly peaceful sleep, and Henry had begun to forget what that was like. He fell asleep with a smile on his face and did not bother to wonder how long it would be until he had another, and didn’t even consider as sleep took him that the chances were good that the next time he fell asleep, it would probably be in a Motel 6 in Los Alamos.

The next morning, they took Erika’s car to the station where Henry loaded up what little he was taking and told the others to keep an eye on things, and that he would call before heading home. Erika was already aware that he was likely to call her that night if he was staying in Los Alamos, just to make sure she was all right and to tell her that he was as well. After all, he would soon be within a few miles of perhaps as many as six infected souls.

Henry flipped it and zipped it in the bathroom, straightened out his uniform, and took off in his cruiser towards Los Alamos, a two and a half hour drive if he kept a steady pace.

The trip between Red River and Los Alamos did not take Henry anywhere near the Interstate, meaning that he went most of the way on State Highway 68, which made for a pleasant and picturesque drive with trees on both sides of the road, with the sun continuing to rise, casting a warm, welcoming light through the branches. Scenes like this were a big part of the reason that Henry had opted for the Red River Police Chief’s job to begin with (not getting shot in the leg again was a close second), and it was lovely enough to almost make him forget the reason he was on the road.

Almost.
"If you have a milkshake, and I have a milkshake, and there's a straw, there it is, that's a straw...and my straw reaches...acrosssssssss the room, and begins to drink your milkshake. I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE! SLURRRP! I DRINK IT UP!

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Laager » Tue Sep 14, 2010 8:57 am

Henry certainly isn't taking any chances......I like that.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by SteveD » Tue Sep 14, 2010 12:19 pm

Good stuff PB.... :mrgreen:
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Ponyboy314 » Tue Sep 14, 2010 9:29 pm

Henry made good time, and along the way, passed two state police cars, the drivers both giving him a nod as he passed. Professional courtesy was one of Henry’s trademarks, so getting some back was sure to leave him with a grin.

He played his usual fare of classic rock as he drove along the peaceful highway through the trees and mountains, blaring Ted Nugent and Bad Company at a rather high decibel level, since he rarely had occasion to drive any real distance alone and made full use of the opportunity. The ride itself was uneventful, apart from chewing out the drive-thru punk at the McDonalds in Espanola, who apparently couldn’t understand the difference between a Sausage Biscuit and a Sausage McMuffin, and similarly didn’t seem to get that Henry had ordered a Coke instead of a Dr. Pepper. Beyond that the road didn’t offer anything dramatic or thought provoking. It took just under the expected two and a half hours until he reached Los Alamos.

He had occasion to visit Los Alamos a few times, and the most recent was about a year earlier, when he pulled over a speeder and found that the car he was driving was hot, and then proceeded to find a loaded weapon under the seat, right next to a bag of crystal meth. The car had been reported as stolen from Los Alamos, where the driver had a warrant on him for possession. Henry, as usual, drove the suspect back to Los Alamos himself as a goodwill gesture, and formed a working relationship with the local chief of police.

Henry had first visited the town as a teenager, when his parents took him to see the local museums, particularly those involving the building of the atomic bombs back during World War II. That had always been a subject of interest to him, as his late grandfather (on his father’s side) had fought in the Pacific in the US Marines, serving in every hellhole from Guadalcanal to Okinawa, coming home with more medals than God, including five Purple Hearts (Henry had been told a few times by his grandfather how he got those, but never once explained how he got the three Silver Stars and two Bronze Stars he had been awarded). His maternal grandfather had also served in the Pacific (and was still around to talk about it) in the US Army Air Force as a flight engineer/turret gunner aboard a B-25 Mitchell bomber, but Henry had seen him far less growing up, and only knew anything about what he had done in the war because of a scrapbook in his father’s keeping, which included the citations for his Distinguished Flying Cross and bucket of Air Medals. Obviously, the Pacific Theater of World War II was bound to be of interest to him, and that included the bombs that ended that war, especially considering that both his grandfathers probably only came home because there was no need to invade the Japanese Islands.

That also gave Henry a type of thinking that was not especially common these days. He wondered why everyone yapped incessantly about Hitler and Nazis and the death camps when the Japanese atrocities were as bad as anything the Nazis did, yet college punks still whined about dropping the A-bombs on Japan. Henry (as well as his ex-marine grandfather) believed that if the A-bombs had been dropped on Germany, no whiny punk would ever say a word about it. Nazi meant evil to the post-World War II mind, but somehow Imperial Japan, with their Rape of Nanking, Bataan Death March, and unprovoked bombing of Shanghai somehow slipped through the cracks and no one seemed to regard them as another evil empire.

Indeed, Henry tended to think rather odd thoughts when he spent hours going over the road by himself.

Henry got to Los Alamos by about ten thirty that morning, and headed straight for the sheriff’s office (Mapquest strikes again in the name of justice), which was easy to find right by the Los Alamos Civic Center. He used visitor parking and got out, tucking his case file under his arm. As he walked in, he got some rather interesting looks from the local sheriff’s deputies and city police he passed, and the real fun was when he reached the metal detector inside the lobby with the civilian security guard in the white shirt, holding a plastic basket in his hand, the kind that mom-and-pop burger joints served fries in.

“Sir, can you please place all metal objects in this basket and walk through the metal detector?”

Henry went wide-eyed. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Sir, I said, can you please place all metal objects on your person in this basket and walk through?”

“Uh, friend, you do realize I’m a police officer, right?”

“Yes Sir, but…”

“And you want me to toss my service weapon in that basket along with my car keys?”

“Sir…you do not appear to be local, and all visitors must…”

Henry was losing patience, and he hadn’t had much of that since strange things began happening in his home state. “For one thing, that’s ‘Chief’ to you. For another, I’m here at the behest of the Los Alamos County Sheriff, and as if that’s not enough, I am not required under any circumstances to hand over my weapon to a civilian security guard. I’m here to assist with an ongoing investigation and I suggest you step aside and allow me to pass.”

“Sir, I mean Chief, if you please surrender your firearm, I’ll see to it that it’s returned when you leave the building, now if…”

“Are you kidding me? Listen Mister, I suggest you get Sheriff Stahl on the line right now, because I have a lot going on here in your fine little town and I don’t need you impeding me.”

“One minute, Chief.” The punk twenty-something got on a nearby red phone hanging on the wall near the metal detector (by now, about a half-dozen people were stuck in the lobby, waiting for the guard to pull his head out of his ass) and called the sheriff’s office. After a brief conversation that Henry couldn’t hear, the kid went beet-red and said, “I’m really sorry…Chief Dane…Dane is it?”

“That’s right. So if you don’t mind…”

“Go ahead and pass through, Sir.”

“Damned decent of you.”

As Henry guided himself using the signs on the wall that pointed the way to the sheriff’s office, he thought to himself, “I can see this is going to be a real love affair…”
Last edited by Ponyboy314 on Wed Sep 15, 2010 5:46 am, edited 2 times in total.
"If you have a milkshake, and I have a milkshake, and there's a straw, there it is, that's a straw...and my straw reaches...acrosssssssss the room, and begins to drink your milkshake. I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE! SLURRRP! I DRINK IT UP!

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Laager » Tue Sep 14, 2010 10:06 pm

You know I think the same guy or one of his relatives must work at the McDonald's in Las Vegas NM, because they did the same thing to me awhile back.... :lol:
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Dawgboy » Tue Sep 14, 2010 10:25 pm

C'mon P0ny of death, Keep it rolling! The moar zombies need some action!!!
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Ponyboy314 » Wed Sep 15, 2010 5:27 am

Even though Los Alamos was hardly Chicago, it was still more than twenty times the size of Red River (there was even a Wal-Mart, which would be blasphemous in Red River), so it was easily large enough for local law enforcement to have use of a very modern building with all the advantages that tend to go along with that. Sheriff Stahl obviously had a real staff working under him, so much so that his secretary probably never even saw his dispatchers (of which he likely had several), even though back home, Erika did both jobs. Stahl’s secretary had an expensive-looking desk right outside his office, and looking around, it seemed more like a primetime police drama than anything back in Red River. The LAPD or NYPD would regard the County Sheriff’s Headquarters as Spartan at best and primitive and rustic at worst, but to the police chief of a town of not even five hundred, this might as well have been Hill Street Blues, and Sheriff Stahl might has well have been James B. Sikking.

The secretary could have been Erika’s first cousin for the resemblance, but lacked her pleasant disposition, which Henry realized within seconds of speaking.

“Ma’am, could you please tell…”

“Yes, Chief Dane. Sheriff Stahl is waiting for you inside.” She said it in a rather dismissive tone, as though the underlying message was, “Now, then, would you please be kind enough to get the fuck out of my face?” Henry just walked past her and into Stahl’s office.

Sheriff Lucas Stahl was easily fifteen years Henry’s senior, and a few inches taller, with a gray mustache and eyes that looked as though he was fairly certain that he could tear Henry apart with his bare hands while in the middle of more important matters.

But fortunately, his demeanor was a little more on the polite side.

Sheriff Stahl immediately came around his desk and offered his hand, which Henry promptly shook. “Lucas Stahl, Los Alamos County Sheriff.”

“Henry Dane, Red River Chief of Police. Pleasure.”

“Likewise. Anyway, I’m not above pleasantries and I suspect you aren’t either, but we are a tad bit pressed for time. In about an hour or so, I’m heading back out to the campsite. As you might imagine, we have a field station out there, since we need people on site twenty-four-seven, you know?”

“I expect so. Anyway, you know why I’m here, so, where exactly do you want to start?”

“First Chief Dane, I’d like to know how our missing campers tie into your case back in Red River, with that missing person from Raton who popped up unannounced.”

“I think for our purposes, just ‘Henry’ will be fine, provided that you’re okay with me calling you ‘Lucas.’

“Fair enough that, Henry.”

Henry opened his case folder and laid it on Sheriff Stahl’s desk, spreading out the photographs, ME reports, and all pertinent notes.

“Well, you have a missing family, and now a missing park ranger, and I already know that you suspect foul play in the disappearance of the Maturin family. While I’m thinking about it, do you suspect foul play in the Nessman disappearance?”

“Of course, but all I have there is basic circumstance. I have no blood, no drag marks, no calls for help or suspicious people in the area just prior…but he went into the tress just a few dozen yards away from half a dozen others and poof! Either someone snatched him or Nessman just went off by himself, not wanting anyone to find him, and I seriously doubt that. Someone out there got him, must have. I’m guessing the same sumbitch who took the Maturin family.”

“So Lucas, your current suspicion is that a serial murder/kidnapper is running around the Jemez Mountains, shadowing your rescue teams, looking for anyone who wanders off?”

“I know how freaky that sounds, Henry, but it makes the most sense. This guy, or guys…move fast, no sound, but still, I can’t think of anything else it could be. Now then, with that in mind, how does that roll into that missing guy from Raton?”

Henry picked up the missing persons report he had faxed to him from the Raton Police Department (all eighteen members of it) for addition to his case file.

“Look at this. Gregory Lemme, disappeared from the outskirts of Raton and pops up sometime later in Red River. Outskirts of Raton, that’s where they found his car. According to the missing persons report, the car had two-thirds of a tank of gas, full tires, nothing mechanically wrong with it. Simply…”

Stahl interrupted him. “Simply…no reason whatsoever to abandon his car.”

“Right. Easy to suspect that he was…taken, but then he winds up in Red River, and wanders onto the first property he finds, presumably looking for help.”

“And…your man, this…”

Henry picked up another page of the case file. “Leland Plessy.”

“Plessy…just kills him?”

“It was ruled an accidental killing, but that doesn’t change anything. He went missing and turned up forty or so miles away after several days. But there’s more to this. Two more missing person cases, one solved in rather violent fashion, the other still open.”

“And you think that all these cases are related, Henry?”

“All I’m saying is that I think it’s possible, Lucas. That’s really all. I think we need to be open to the possibility, so we should do what we can to keep each other informed.”
"If you have a milkshake, and I have a milkshake, and there's a straw, there it is, that's a straw...and my straw reaches...acrosssssssss the room, and begins to drink your milkshake. I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE! SLURRRP! I DRINK IT UP!

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Yeti » Wed Sep 15, 2010 11:20 am

Lucas Stahl, that name sounds familiar.

Wasn't Lucas the Sheriff on Fallout 3 in Megaton?
But the Stahl last name belong to another character.......

Unless your doing like the GM in a Star Wars game I'm playing in. We met a smuggler named Harrison Jones. :lol:

As much as I hate to admit it, the punk security guard was right. Generally visiting cops get escorted through those things. Anyone could go buy a surplus uniform, just ask the ones assaulted by fake cops late at night on lone highways.

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I'm honestly suprised Henry hasn't been preparing his place as a place of retreat for this Deputies and those few he can save if the Communtiy building falls.
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by jameslw1 » Wed Sep 15, 2010 11:23 am

Yeti wrote: But the Stahl last name belong to another character.......
There was an Agent Stahl in Sons of anarchy, she was ATF
could be that :?:
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Hoppy » Wed Sep 15, 2010 11:46 am

Gunner Stahl was the bad guy leader of the Icelandic hockey team in Mighty Ducks 2
No one has a sense for the dramatic.

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Dawgboy » Wed Sep 15, 2010 11:57 am

Hoppy wrote:Gunner Stahl was the bad guy leader of the Icelandic hockey team in Mighty Ducks 2
No No No Ducks... Me want Zombies!!!
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by mypps » Wed Sep 15, 2010 12:51 pm

how about zombie hockey players? kind of like that football team from "Beetlejuice", just not as musical. although it would be funny seeing zombies on ice.
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Yeti » Wed Sep 15, 2010 2:19 pm

jameslw1 wrote:
Yeti wrote: But the Stahl last name belong to another character.......
There was an Agent Stahl in Sons of anarchy, she was ATF
could be that :?:
That's it. I knew I had heard it recently.
mypps wrote:how about zombie hockey players? kind of like that football team from "Beetlejuice", just not as musical. although it would be funny seeing zombies on ice.
Can't have Zombie Hockey Players in Ponyboy's Zombieland.
All his worlds have a tie-in together in someway that usually isn't revealed till very late in the story.
And in one previous incantation of the world so far, the Zombies are the freeze and unthaw type.
Unless of course he has changed the world as we know it so far. He has always been one to throw us for loops.
But not all world tie-ins are there such as the Tell it to the Marines one is a future Space one.
Ponyboy,
Are there any others besides the ones below?

SIDS Chapter One: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=29018" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
SIDS Chapter Two: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=29170" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
SIDS Chapter Three: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=29241" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
Death of Conscience...a Zompocalypse Story of Lonliness: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=47882" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
30 Days: A Chronicle of Surviving the Dead: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=54874" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
The Interview: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=55776" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
The Twelve: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=55931" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
John Webley: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=57531" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
The Convention: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=57780" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
The Woman and the Ghost: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=58054" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
Tell it to the Marines: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=61690" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
Two for the Road: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=62993" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
And of course this one:
But with a Whimper: http://zombiehunters.org/forum/viewtopi ... 28&t=68305" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

Far as order you should read, that's up to you.
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by mypps » Wed Sep 15, 2010 2:46 pm

you know, i have read all of ponyboy's stories. and i wonder if this will tie in to that S.I.D. story he wrote awhile ago. its one of the few that haven't been hooked to another story of his. i liked that story, to bad it was never finished properly. and i didn't really mean zombies playing hockey but a few zombies roaming around in hockey uniforms, like the team was attacked while at a game or something.
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Ponyboy314 » Wed Sep 15, 2010 4:10 pm

I swear, you guys talk about some weird shit sometimes.
"If you have a milkshake, and I have a milkshake, and there's a straw, there it is, that's a straw...and my straw reaches...acrosssssssss the room, and begins to drink your milkshake. I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE! SLURRRP! I DRINK IT UP!

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Wrecking Ball » Wed Sep 15, 2010 5:03 pm

I hope it doesn't tie into SIDS since, and I hate to say it, I never bothered getting into those stories. :cry:
I bring shame upon Ponyboy fans everywhere.
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Ponyboy314 » Thu Sep 16, 2010 2:21 am

“So, are you saying that…wait, who’s the medical examiner out your way? Red River is in…Taos County, right?”

“Right, Lucas.”

“And who’s the medical examiner there?”

“His name is Nathan Marr. Good man.”

“Wait, I think I met him once or something. Anyway, he signed off on all the details of your investigation into Greg Lemme’s death?”

“Yes he did.”

“Now, what about those cases in San Miguel County? What can you tell me about those?”

“Well, I can tell you what I’ve heard. Nathan Marr is a friend of the San Miguel Medical Examiner, Frank Benevidez. You know him by any chance?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Well, I’ve heard from Nathan Marr that in one case, a teenage girl who ran out of her home after fighting with her folks or some such thing, that she turned up in Pecos, in a state of some kind of delerium. No drugs or alcohol in her system. Her delirium was, in all probability, caused by some kind of trauma, like extreme PTSD or something of that nature.”

“Okay, but what makes that similar to your case or mine?”

“Extreme PTSD can sometimes result from a kidnapping, especially if the kidnapping involved some sort of physical or psychological abuse, and her particular case, there was such abuse. Her kidnapper apparently tortured her to some degree.”

“How was that?”

“He…I don’t know how to say this without it sounding stupid, Lucas, but her kidnapper bit her.”

“Bit her?”

“Indeed, and a severe bite was also found on Greg Lemme. Both wounds were inflicted by a human mouth. I think it’s safe to say that both cases are connected, and do forgive me for stating the obvious. But Greg Lemme showed up forty miles from where he disappeared, and Martine Dubois, that’s the girl who went missing from Las Vegas, she turned up just outside of Pecos, and while that’s not far, it’s a good walk through the desert at a fairly hot time of year. I suppose it’s possible that heat stroke caused her delirium, but fortunately, we had a witness to the Lemme death, and Lemme was acting delirious as well. We still believe that he was attempting to ask Leland Plessy for help, but Plessy saw a delirious man and something snapped. But two human bites, two cases of delirium, clearly that’s more than just chance. But to sum it up, two people go missing, both turn up miles from home with a bite mark and in a delirious state. Maybe they got away from their kidnapper, maybe he let them go as a joke, who knows? But the thing that concerns me is that there’s no pattern to this person’s movements, unless he’s going in a great big circle. But I think that this mystery man might be involved in your case. But if he is, then six people in barely a week, and five of them all at the same time? There might be more than one. In fact, I’m rather betting on it. What’s more, he’s apparently shadowing your rescue efforts. Playing a game, getting a thrill, like hide-and-seek when we were kids, you always have the most fun when you’re hiding right near the seeker but they can’t see you. This person, or these people, are probably still up there in the Jemez, waiting until someone else wanders off, just to play his sick game. Again, I suspect that our cases are related, but there’s nothing concrete. I’m here hoping to either find a solid link or something equally solid that shows our cases to be unrelated.”

“I see, Henry. Well, first off, thank you for filling me in on a few pieces that, forgive me for saying so, you probably weren’t quick to share with the press, were you?”

“Hell no. The last thing we needed was some crusading reporter looking for a smoking gun in my pants. Screw them. All they do is make the whole thing harder than it needs to be.”

“I agree totally, Henry. Worthless assholes, always poking around when you screw up, nowhere to be seen when we knock it out of the park.”

“So Lucas, if you don’t mind me asking, what does Chief Sterling from the Los Alamos Police have to say about this? Is his department helping out in any way?”

“Well, the mountains are out of his jurisdiction, but he has his people out there in the streets pulling extra time because of all the guys I have committed to this case…wait, you know Paul Sterling?”

“Yeah, we had occasion to meet about a year back. A local meth-head stole a car from around here, and I busted him for speeding back in Red River. Ran the plates, found a loaded gun and some meth in the car, and I drove him back down here myself. We’re in contact every now and again.”

Sheriff Stahl looked as thought the wheels in his head were turning at a strong rotation, until that light bulb finally turned on.

“Damn, I knew I heard your name before Henry, but I just couldn’t get it. Paul brought you up in conversation x-number of months ago. You were that guy, huh? You were the one who brought that meth freak car thief back here rather than having him send someone himself, huh?”

“Yeah Lucas, that was me.”

“Well, damn. I wish I’d been able to place your name earlier. Okay, well Paul Sterling said you’re a good man, not concerned with jurisdictional bullshit, just wants to get the job done. Well, then…I’m glad to know that. If there’s any information my office can send your way, just ask. Any friend of Paul’s is a friend of mine.”
"If you have a milkshake, and I have a milkshake, and there's a straw, there it is, that's a straw...and my straw reaches...acrosssssssss the room, and begins to drink your milkshake. I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE! SLURRRP! I DRINK IT UP!

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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by KYZHunters » Thu Sep 16, 2010 10:17 am

Hmmm. "Useless asshole" reporter that I am, if I got hold of this story and found out that LEOs were covering it up I'd probably headline it, "Cops stock up on guns, plan their own bugout" with"City council, citizens left in the dark" as a kicker. But I'm just an asshole that way.
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Re: But with a Whimper

Post by Mr. E. Monkey » Thu Sep 16, 2010 10:30 am

KYZHunters wrote:Hmmm. "Useless asshole" reporter that I am, if I got hold of this story and found out that LEOs were covering it up I'd probably headline it, "Cops stock up on guns, plan their own bugout" with"City council, citizens left in the dark" as a kicker. But I'm just an asshole that way.
Thus validating their distrust of reporters. :mrgreen:
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