Ethan Eternal

Chapter 3

“The Lone Ranger”

            “This is just bullshit man!” a young and anxious police officer shouts to another that might pass as his biological twin. The second officer… Officer Peabody… simultaneously nods to his comrade and expectorates an enormous wad of something brown and suspiciously odorous.

            “Yep. Bullshit.” Peabody murmurs as the two stare at the wreckage that was once a car of some kind.

            The rain continues to fall… though the drops have been ground down to a finer mist than before. Breath steams from every man at the scene of this strange incident and there are many of them… some dressed in blue… some not. All of these men… all but two of them… stand outside a ring of yellow tape. Within that cordoned sector, the car rests like the great hulk of a dead carcass bowing to the mastery of greater hunters… and these are… if any are… great hunters indeed.

            One of the men inside the ring is the direct superior of the younger officers surrounding him. He could not be mistaken for anything less. He stands tall over the one beside him… proud in his position… as though defiant even against the downpour that is steadily cleansing his crime scene. The frown upon his face is almost as apparent as his posture.

            The other man is much older… perhaps in his late 50’s or early 60’s. He wears no uniform… or at least it would seem so. His uniform is one of weary formality and the indulgences of a man granted his own leave. His loose tie and aged shirt are covered by something from another era. A long leather coat is draped over him… something Texans call a “duster”. As the rain bends across him, Perry Long… Ranger Sergeant Perry Long… bends his mind around the evidence at hand.

            “It’s just like I told ya. We’ll be lucky to find anything worth a damn in this mess. We can’t run tests on anything here. It’s all contaminated.” Police Captain Hamilton shouts over the rain to the man kneeling below.

            The Ranger seems absorbed by the blackened steel. He mutters something only he can hear as his lips move and his eyes follow. Perry looks like an icon of a long forgotten past… when lawmen rode on horseback… tamed the wild country… and brought outlaws to justice. He likes to think of himself this way too.

            Texas Rangers are given authority inside the state that no other peace officer has. This allows them to move from county to county... jurisdiction to jurisdiction… without question or interference from any other agency. This clout has helped to build a bit of a legend around these men… but it has also garnered some resentment from some of those with lesser power. Perry deals with this every day. Today is no different.

            The Texas Ranger rises from his crouch… revealing a height slightly taller than the police captain. Hamilton meets The Sergeant’s eyes… grey eyes… eyes that have seen every corner of this massive state… and every horror found within. He is somewhat startled by what he finds in that colorless stare. Perry seems to find no such mystery in the eyes looking back.

            “Captain Hamilton… I appreciate your cooperation. I know this is the last place you wanted to spend your Sunday afternoon.” Perry says with a voice almost too polite for the texture of it. It is a voice whittled down by dust… leathered by time.

            “Well, that’s what we do. Can we at least get out the rain now?”

            Sergeant Perry Long nods.

            A few minutes later, the two and facing one another again but this time from across a polished table covered by a red and white checkered cloth inside an otherwise empty diner. The owner stands outside cracking jokes with a few of the officers about barbecued cars and which sides would go best with them.

            “This your man?” Captain Hamilton says and breaks the moment of silence between them… referring to another conversation shared by these two lawmen on a day drier than this.

            “Looks like it” Perry says and sips a cup of black coffee.

            “A.P.B. says he killed his kid… maybe his wife too. Doesn’t sit to well with me.” Hamilton mutters almost casually.

            “I recon… it doesn’t”

            A long pause follows The Ranger’s words before Captain Hamilton smiles and leans back against the torn upholstery at his back.

            “You Rangers see a lot of fucked up shit out there. You ever see anything like this?”

            Perry carefully sets the cup down onto the white saucer under it and rises from his chair. With a melancholy tone, he speaks only one word before leaving the company of the local police.

            “No.”

            Colt is waiting patiently when Perry opens the door to the Ford F150. He watches his master without moving as he shuts the door and starts the engine. Before putting the truck into gear, The Ranger turns to his partner and grins. He rubs Colt behind the ears with a rigorous affection reserved for the only true friend he has left in the world. Colt… a beautifully bred German Sheppard… returns the gesture with stoic composure. He licks Perry’s hand once and then turns his attention to the road ahead… ready for business. He is a very good dog.

            As The Ranger drives down the narrow cemetery road, he ponders deeply on the events of the past 7 weeks. He has never known a case to be so strange and he has never seen such clear evidence of outside interference. The police will be of no use to him. He is sure of this now. If the dead boy and his mother are to have any justice… it will be up to him. The fate of Mr. Hill… Mr. Kevin Hill… is almost set in stone.

            Perhaps there is still time… for truth…

Ethan is silent as he watches the rain slowly dripping down the massive window at his side. He has always been a patient man. He glides a tiny finger down the cool glass and wonders at the marvel he has become. He must stop doing that… but not today… Today the rain falls outside and George is hard at work. Today is a day for inward thought… for self reconciliation… and admiration. He wonders if George has killed them yet. He smiles.

            “Ethan. Are you hungry?” an elderly man whispers from across a giant carpet. A white towel is draped over one arm and the other is held at his back with a stiff yet proper professionalism.

            Ethan glances to this man and then back to his window almost instantly.

            “Yes David, I am… I think I would like… roast… roast goose.”

            David nods sharply, “Of course Ethan.”

            The servant slips away with a gliding stride and out of his master’s library.

            Ethan grins.

            “Roast goose…”

            He giggles with the voice of the dead boy.

            “Roast goose…”