Page 29 of Grave Possession

“There’s a cabin about forty minutes north-west of here, and I’m loading up to go check it out.”

“Wait a minute… How do you know all of this? Damn it, Nox. This is why you have to keep me in the loop.”

Shouldering the phone against my ear, I zip up the duffle bag. “Those hunting websites I told you about, remember?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I heard back from multiple people. Some sent pictures, and one slightly matched the cabin from that video I had sent to me.” Oh, fuck. I said too much.

“Video? WHAT VIDEO?!” he roars, uncaring if others hear our conversation anymore. Shit, he’s pissed. I don’t have time to relay everything to him right now.

I sigh. “The killer sent me a video yesterday. I’ve been too busy analyzing it to even think of anything else. I’m sorry, uncle. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“We are going to have words, young man.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep your fucking radio on you since you’ll lose cell reception out there. I’ll be out to the mill shortly for my rounds.” Silence stretches between us until I almost debate hanging up. “If he’s there…” my uncle pauses.

“Yeah?”

“End this,” he says.

“No matter what?” I ask.

“No matter what,” he solidifies. I wonder if he would still say that if I told him my hunch about our fellow officer. I haven’t found any evidence against him, so my theory is still flimsy at best.

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and Nox…” my captain’s words turn from cold and stern to warm and loving.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Be safe.”

“Yes, sir. You too,” I reply, ending the call.

Click.

I snatch the bag off the table and pocket my phone. Flying out the door to the ATV that’s parked around the back of the house. I stuff the bag into the storage compartment on the back of the quad, and turn the keyin the ignition. As I slide the helmet over my head, the engine sputters and dies. Pausing, I wonder if it was just a simple misfiring of the engine. I turn the key again and nothing happens.No, no, no…Pulling off the helmet, I clearly see the gas gauge needle is so far below the ‘E’ it’s almost pointing straight down. No fucking way the gas was that low when I got back the other night.

I race over to the shed, the spare jerry cans I have sit in the damp grass alongside of it. There’s only two… There should be four. I pull out my phone, dialling my uncle once again. While waiting for him to answer, I shake the canisters, both are empty. This is impossible. WE HAD A FUCKING SYSTEM! He wouldn’t forget to fill the cans on purpose… Would he?

“Nox, is everything okay?” he asks, the concerned parent persona back at the forefront.

“Did you forget to fill the jerry cans?” I snap.

“No, I dropped off two full ones the other day, and took the two empty cans.”

“You took two empty ones, and left two full ones?” I confirm.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Lennox. I’m sure. I’m not fucking senile yet, son.” Sometimes I beg to differ.

“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath.

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