Long Gone Dead (The Odarko Series Book 2) - Mark Slade

Long Gone Dead (The Odarko Series Book 2) by Mark Slade

Book excerpt

The ringing of the telephone ripped through the silence of the bedroom and tore me from my dream. A constant droning ping bounced off the walls until I found the phone in the darkness. A hand lazily slapped the receiver off the cradle and the contraption slammed on the floor once, bounced up in a half shadow on the bedroom wall, dangled in the air. I switched on the lamp that rested on the end table beside my bed. I saw the phone was hopping. The cord kept the receiver from completely touching the carpeted floor. A voice squawked on the line, and only broke my sleepy gaze seconds later with drawn-out hellos.

I didn’t bother sitting up. I turned on my side and snatched the phone on its sixth hop.

“Hello,” I said groggily.

A strange chirping sound came over the droning telephone line. Then a voice popped on so loud, I dropped the phone, wincing at the discomfort the voice had on my still sleeping ears.

“Dick Cole!” the voice screeched.

“Dick Cole!” the voice repeated.

Although muffled, I could tell the grizzly voice belonged to a man that was possibly middle-aged, smoked too much, drank a lot of whiskey, and more than likely white. I retrieved the receiver, slowly pressed my ear to one end, and my mouth to the other.

“Richard Cole!”

“Sometimes,” I said.

“What?!” the voice screamed.

I jerked away. Waited a few seconds and placed my ear back to the receiver.

“What?”

“What?” the voice asked.

“What are we talking about?”

“Are you Richard Cole?!”

“I am,” I said. “Why don’t you form your questions in complete sentences so I can understand what you’re talking about?”

The voice waited to speak again.

“They did it,” the man said after a moment.

“That’s wonderful,” I sat on the side of the bed, ran a hand across his balding head. “I appreciate the update. Good night.”

“Wait, wait,” the voice begged. “I’m trying to tell you something.”

“Okay, make it quick. If I don’t get my eight hours my face gets wrinkled and the beauty cream clogs my arteries.”

“Please,” the voice went from confidently gruff to dismal whine. “Don’t make light of these things. This is…this is so horrible.”

“Look, you didn’t even say who you are and who is doing these horrible things.”

The man on the other end choked up, cleared his throat.

“I can’t go into too many details. They’re after me…right on top of me…I’m sorry. I just…just need to ask you to help me. Stop these people from doing anything else—”

White noise took over, and if the man said anything that made sense, I didn’t hear the rest of what was said. The static cleared up and the man’s voice faded back in.

“I am you—”

White noise faded in again and his voice was muffled momentarily. With a dominant screech his words were crystal clear.

“—Do you understand?”

I cleared my voice, blinked incessantly.

“I think so,” he said. “Look. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who you are, what you need me to do, and who these people are.”

In a huff, the man said, “I just told you everything!”

“Hey, buddy, there was a lot of damn static on the line and I didn’t understand—”

Click.

The line went dead. Static took over completely.

I started to hang up, held on to the receiver a little longer. Maybe I should dismiss the call as somebody screwing with me. To be honest, I didn’t know anyone who could play a practical joke except my friend Ajax, and even he had little tolerance for such foolishness. So I put that out of my head.

Suddenly, I had a better idea. He stabbed the button on the cradle twice, listened for the static to give way to a few clicks. A woman’s voice came on. The velvet smooth voice of the operator I always fantasized about.

It wasn’t my initial intention to get a buzz on hearing her voice. I actually didn’t know she was going to be the operator this time of night. But I was over the moon having heard her say:

“Yes.”

I sighed.

“Uh, yeah, operator. I just had a call—”

“Oh God,” she said, annoyed as hell. “It’s YOU. Look, buddy, really, I am flattered. I also have to tell you, I’m SICK of you weirdos calling and breathing hard when you…you…God…do what you do! I have to tell you, you’re kind are driving me up the wall calling me all the time!”

“Hold on…I don’t do that—”

“Yes, YOU do!”

“I don’t—I do like your voice—”

“Here we go again! Look,” the operator said confidentially. “My boss is here tonight. I know I usually do…well…listen…I can’t right now! Well…listen to you tonight because my husband might pop in to check on me—”

“You have the wrong impression,” I said. Even though I was tempted by what she was eluding to, I had never done that, nor thought of it, and more than likely wouldn’t do that. “For real, I need to know where the last call to me came from.”

Silence on the other end.

“You don’t call me regularly?”

“Uhhh…well…I do…but I don’t do what you…were referencing to—”

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” the operator said. “I’ll check for you.”

I waited. During the interval, I started to think about the operator. I wondered if she was a redhead or a blonde. I remember how she made me think of a school teacher I had in Baltimore. How the school teacher was so commanding, ordering everyone about. How she dressed—

The operator popped back on. “The call came from a payphone at Lowden.”

“Lowden? There’s a payphone at the rest stop?”

“Yes,” she said coolly. “They installed one six months ago.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“Mine, too. Hearing your voice.”

The operator was none too happy to hear that.

“Oh, damn! You creep!”

The line went dead. I laughed, held on to the receiver a minute longer. Finally, I placed it on the cradle and wished I hadn’t said that.