Bastard Son of Nelson Creed part 6

Cassandra moved to Winghaven when she bought Stagger Lee’s and was one of the few residents who purposefully moved there. She had always liked “spooky shit” and saw an opportunity to live there and save up for retirement.

On one of her first nights bartending, Farrell Creed sat at the bar, drinking his beer quietly, occasionally glancing at Cassandra; he found her alluring even though she wasn’t what most men would consider attractive but she had many qualities he liked in a woman. He also knew better than to be one of those jerks who flirted with the bartender while they were working so he remained quiet. The college-age guys sitting on the other side of the bar were fine with being jerks in their own way.

“Hey, you got tattoos all over?,” the ring leader asked Cassandra after taking note of her bare arms. She obviously ignored him and continued going about her business so he drunkedly repeated the question, “You got tattoos all over?”

“Only the sleeves,” she playfully flexed her bicep, “What you see is what you get.”

“I don’t believe you, lemme see,” he tried to reach across the bar but she stepped back and slapped his hand away firmly.

“That is the last time you reach across this bar,” she warned.

Having seen enough, Creed spoke up quickly, “Need me to take these guys outside and whup their asses, just say the word,” he turned to the young men threateningly while waiting for her answer.

“I can handle some college boys but thanks,” she said gratefully.

“Hey, redneck,” the ring leader called out, “There’s four of us and only one of you.”

“So go get four more guys, princess,” Creed fired back, then confidently returned to his beer. The ring leader turned to his friends and they began to murmur angrily while Cassandra chuckled. She leaned on the counter facing him, “What’s your name?” “Farrell Creed,” he told her, hoping that she was new enough in town that she hadn’t heard the name before. She didn’t react which clued him in that she wasn’t aware of his reputation but the same could not be said for the college guys.

“Oh shit, I heard about this dude,” the ring leader pointed at Creed, “His dad was like some kind of serial killer or something and this guy like… bit a teacher’s face off when he was in school”

“That a fact?” Creed brushed it off as he continued drinking his beer, “You always talk out your ass or are you just more flexible than usual today?”

The ring leader rose to his feet, followed by his friends, “Real funny. You wanna see what the four of us can do, we’ll be happy to-”. Cassandra’s fist came into view and the college student dropped to the ground in a daze. His friends’ jaws all hung open and a smile spread across Creed’s face while Cassandra cracked her knuckles. “Not in my bar,” she told them, “Take your shit someplace else.” The friends mumbled a few responses as they pulled the leader to his feet and helped him outside.

“Nice right hook,” Creed told her excitedly, “Ya got my name, what’s yours?”

“Cassandra,” she produced her hand to shake, “So you’re a local celebrity, huh?,” she asked in jest.

“You eat one guy’s face and they won’t let you forget it,” he jokingly shrugged, “Don’t know what to tell ya.”

Cassandra laughed and playfully slapped his arm.

Farrell’s memory faded and he was back in Widow Springs or what he assumed to be Widow Springs. He was being jostled back and forth on what felt like the flatbed of a truck. It wasn’t going fast; in fact, it felt like someone put it in neutral and let it roll down an incline. Meanwhile, something heavy weighed him down but he knew there were no restraints. Whatever it was also restricted his vision and as he tried to remove it, he could see sunlight peaking through passing tree branches. He could tell it was metal and he began fumbling with the base in order to find a way to remove it when suddenly, it grew dark. He had been slipping in and out of consciousness but he was quite sure he hadn’t passed out this time and yet, midday turned to the dead of night like someone flipping a switch. Just when he felt what seemed to be locks around the strange helmet, the truck jolted and hit a tree, then he fell back to the bed of the truck. As his condition was already weakened, he passed out once more.

He came to a few seconds later to see a dark figure looming over him and while he couldn’t see clearly due to the obstruction over his head and the darkness of the night, he instinctively reached out and snatched the figure by the throat. There were murmured voices and gasps around him, indicating there were more people nearby so he gave the person a shove, throwing them onto the grass below. With the figure momentarily out of his way, he sat up and once again fiddled with the clamps around the strange helmet before he finally pulled it off. In the moonlight, he could see that he was still in a wooded area and there was a small crowd of people gathered.

“Is this the sign?”

“How should I know?”

“What do we do?”

Creed looked down and noticed he was wearing a very thick uniform with odd decorations and a peculiar old diving helmet was next to him. Not waiting around for any questions, he jumped out of the truck, spotted some lights beyond the trees and made a break for it.

The diving suit was heavy but Creed used his abnormal strength to pass through a clearing and when he came to a small road, he recognized the main street of Widow Springs. He hoped his motorcycle was still parked by Town Tavern and sprinted in that direction but in doing so, he noticed something odd about the cars and trucks parked along the road and in the drive ways. They were all vintage 60s and 70s model vehicles in mostly good condition. Some were as old as the 50s. One could surmise there was a car show in the area but they weren’t exactly Mustangs on the road. They were just the sort of trucks and family vehicles lower class farmers and their families would’ve driven decades ago. There would be little reason to keep these models and they certainly looked as if they had been in constant use. He slowly made his way to the old grocery store on the way to the tavern and noted the windows were no longer boarded up. As he passed, he also saw a sign in the window, showcasing a Pepsi logo. This wouldn’t be so off-putting except that the logo was outdated. Curiously, he crept closer and peered inside. It was then that he noticed a 1979 calendar on the wall.

An Hour Earlier…

After the church incident, the Mayor scheduled a town hall meeting with most residents in attendance. As Gus was studying the Time Jacket, he was a part of the meeting if only by proxy. The table he normally worked on was taken up by the mayor’s secretary keeping minutes so he opted to sit in the back and read Heinrich Mason’s journal (the suit was laid out neatly in the corner with the helmet resting on top).

“Nelson Creed has been a problem around here since he was a boy,” the Mayor admitted, “I think each and every one of us has had a run-in with him at some point.”

“And it’s only gotten worse!,” a local man shouted.

“Right. So, I been talk’n to the Chief of Police over in Winghaven…,” the Mayor began almost apologetically and was met with groans from the small audience.

“They’ll do jackshit!,” Miriam shouted.

The mayor raised his hands defensively, “The Chief said he can have one of his boys making rounds twice a week.”

“What the hell are me and my family gonna do on the other days of the week?,” Dale spoke up bitterly.

“We all know what happened at church,” Katey added angrily, “I got no faith in the cops. We gotta do this ourselves.”

“Do it ourselves? What exactly are you suggesting?,” the Mayor asked nervously.

“Think you know.”

“She’s right,” Charlie added, “Back in my grandpa’s day, they had a law about people who ‘needed kill’n’. No cops asked questions if you could prove it needed to be done.”

“Now, listen, nobody is kill’n nobody,”

“We are all God-fearing people,” the Pastor spoke up, “We are all angry, I know, but vengeance does not belong to us.”

“It ain’t vengeance if it’s self-defense, Pastor,” said Beau.

“I don’t have to tell ya’ll what you’re suggesting is illegal,” the Mayor shook his head, “Ya’ll got mouths to feed. I don’t think you wanna risk jail time.”

“What if Nelson finally kills one of us?,” a person in the crowd shouted.

The raised voices and the subject matter of the conversation got Gus’ attention immediately and he couldn’t help but to continue listening. He laid the journal down.

“I know they let ya’ll down a few times but ya gotta let the police do their job,” the Mayor pleaded.

“They don’t give a shit about us,” Katey said as tears welled up in her eyes, “We are just poor farmers. And we’re bound to get a whole lot poorer now that the mines are closing. They won’t even notice. We don’t got much money or education and we can’t afford some bigshot lawyer. No one is gonna help us,” she wiped a tear away, “Nelson won’t face any consequences until it’s too late for one of us. We… are… alone. Alone against that maniac,” she pointed out the window, her expression changing from sadness to righteous anger, “He’s been firing guns on our property at night. He put a gun in my boy’s hand. Told him to shoot his father,” she pounded her chest furiously as she screamed, “MY BOY! MY HUSBAND!” Miriam approached to console her but she waved her off, “Nelson’s gonna be a daddy himself soon but he still thought to do that? I’d like to see the look on his face if someone put a gun in his boy’s hand and told him to pull the trigger.”

“I shudder to think about him raising a son of his own,” someone in the crowd muttered, “We’d end up with two Creeds around here.”

“Of course, we can’t wait that long,” Katey said, “Whatever we do, we gotta do it now. Tonight if we have to.”

“People, listen to me,” the Mayor called out but was ignored. The crowd had made up their minds long before that meeting and he knew it. They were frightened and desperate and he was beginning to fear the mob would turn their attention on him soon.

She ignored the mayor and continued to address the small crowd, “It’s only threats now but once the trial is over and the heat dies down, he’s gonna come back meaner than ever. Hell, he could come right through that door right now with a gun! Nothing we could do about it. We ain’t got time to talk.”

Charlie noted the Time Jacket sitting on the floor, “We have more time than you think,” he motioned toward it, “If we wanted to, we could go back a week and take him out while he’s at the tavern or his house,” he stole closer to the suit, his eyes widening as he became transfixed, “We can go all the way back when he was just a snot-nosed kid and maybe talk some sense into `im.”

“Are you suggesting using that thing?,” the Mayor pointed to the suit in frustration but received no answer.

“Can’t we just… shoot Nelson?,” one bystander spoke up.

“Ever killed a man?,” Charlie asked, “I haven’t and I don’t think anyone else here has either. Nobody likes that man but…”

“No one here is a killer,” the Pastor said quietly.

“We have to find someone to do it,” another bystander spoke up.

“And pay that person… with what? We ain’t got the money,” Charlie responded, “And even if we got some cash together, what do we know about hiring killers? Where do we go to find one, y’know?”

“Nelson Creed is without a doubt the most dangerous man I ever met,” Beau said, “No matter what we do, we gotta be careful. We can’t just aim a gun and shoot, `cause… what if we miss?”

“I like what Charlie said,” Miriam added and pointed to the Time Jacket, “This suit is here for a reason.”

Charlie was filled with emotion and not quite sure of what he was saying but the words resonated with the crowd nonetheless, “Nelson’s girl is supposed to give birth pretty soon. We could get the kid from the future. Put a gun in his hands like Katey said and have him do the deed. Make it poetic.”

“That thing probably don’t even work,” the Mayor was growing tired and it showed, “Mason was a crazy old man so just put it to rest!”

“We can find out if it works or not!”

“We are not gonna touch that blasted thing,” the Pastor warned, “Assuming it works, and I ain’t sure it does, this thing was created from dark magic by Madman Mason himself. It perverts the laws of God and nature, provoking things that are best left alone.”

“I’m Baptist enough to know when a preacher’s right,” Gus finally rose to his feet, “We don’t know if this thing does what it’s supposed to do. Mason was crazy and spent the last years of his life in the nut house. And if it does work… I mean, no one hears knows enough about it. Lord knows what could happen.”

“Thank you,” the Pastor said appreciatively.

Katey looked at him with sorrowful eyes, “… But what else can we do, Pastor? Far as I know, it’s worth it and I don’t wanna spend another night awake in fear, wondering if I’m gonna bury our children some day,” she pointed to the window again, “Everyone who lives near Winghaven knows there are monsters out there…,” her voice cracked slightly, “… And some of them are human.”

Gus thought for a moment, then turned his attention to all-gathered, “I got an idea. Everyone follow me.” He began to walk out of City Hall with the small crowd following curiously. He led them across the street, past the small row of houses and into the woods behind them. Once he came to a hill with a trail, he pointed to it and said, “A Ley Line runs along this point, according to Mason’s notes. If we used the Time Jacket, this is the closest spot we could use it,” he turned back to the crowd, “It is currently May 12th, 1979 at…,” he checked his watch, “… 7:14pm. I am making this declaration right now. If we are to use the Time Jacket, if it’s our fate to use it in any way, then we agree to send a message at this time and place,” he looked at their blank expressions, “If nothing happens, we know that, one way or another, we will not be using it in the future and that means we gotta find some other way.” He turned and looked at the trail, “If it’s gonna happen, it’ll happen now… But I don’t see no message, so-”

Then a truck came out of the ether and slammed into a nearby tree.

Continued…