The Strongest Link
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“I’m not going to be able to do this,” I said. “It’s too hard.” The words came out in a whisper, but the sound of my voice was loud and clear inside my head. My hands were shaking as they gripped the steering wheel so tightly that it hurt. It felt like there wasn’t enough room for all three of us—me, my mom, and our car—in here at once; we’d been driving around forever without making any progress toward finding Dad or getting home again.
And now Mom had just told me she thought he might have run away from her…and then what? She wouldn’t tell me why, because if I knew where he went, maybe I could find him myself! But how would you even know when someone ran away from their family? Maybe he didn’t want anyone else looking after his kids anymore.
Or maybe something happened to make them leave on purpose…
My thoughts kept circling back over themselves until finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore: I took a deep breath and asked my mother point-blank, “What did happen?”
She sighed deeply before answering. “You’re right about one thing, sweetie—” Her tone made it very plain that she still considered herself the adult here. —”This is really difficult for both of us…”
But she never finished whatever sentence she started. Instead, she looked down into her lap, fiddled with the radio dials, and muttered under her breath, “…but I think we need to talk about some things anyway.” Then she turned off the ignition and sat quietly while I waited for her to say more.
When nothing happened, I glanced up at her face and saw tears glistening in her eyes. For a moment I wondered whether she meant to cry, but then I realized that no matter how upset she got, she always seemed to keep control of herself somehow. That’s probably part of being an actress, I decided. So instead of asking her anything further, I reached across the seat and squeezed her hand.
Mom smiled sadly. “Thanks, honey,” she whispered. “That means a lot to me.”
Then she pulled open the glove compartment door and rummaged through its contents. After several minutes spent fishing around, she produced two small white pills wrapped in aluminum foil. One was marked Tylenol PM, and the other read ZzzzQuil.
“Here,” she said, handing me one of each. “Take these first. They’ll help you relax.”
As soon as she spoke, though, I remembered that I hadn’t taken any medicine since I stopped taking allergy shots last year. (They weren’t working well enough to justify keeping up with them.) Still, I figured I should take what my mom offered, especially if she thought it might calm me down. Besides, I wanted to see what she planned to do next.
So I popped the pill into my mouth and washed it down with water from the cup holder between us. As soon as I swallowed, I felt a wave of warmth spread throughout my body. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window, letting the gentle breeze blow past me. Before long, I fell asleep almost instantly.
When I woke up later, I found that Mom had parked the car somewhere along the side of the road. We must’ve driven quite a ways, because the sun was setting behind us, leaving only a few wisps of cloud visible above the horizon. There were also lots of cars coming and going by on either side of us, which suggested that we’d arrived at some kind of highway rest stop.
I opened my eyes and tried to sit upright, but I immediately regretted doing so. My whole body ached, and I groaned loudly. I heard my mother stir beside me, then reach over and pat my arm gently. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she murmured. “We’re okay now.”
After another minute or two, I managed to get out of the passenger seat and walk unsteadily toward the front of the vehicle. I peered ahead, trying to figure out where exactly we were and noticed that the sky was beginning to lighten slightly.
A few birds flew overhead, calling out to one another. At least, I assumed they were birds—it sounded like birdcalls, although I couldn’t actually hear any actual voices.
Ahead of me, I spotted a large sign painted on the pavement: Welcome To New York State. I squinted, wondering whether I was seeing things correctly, then blinked and rubbed my eyes. Yes, it definitely said that. I stared at it for a little longer, then shook my head and walked forward again.
The farther away I moved, the clearer everything became. Soon I could make out all kinds of details, including a row of vending machines just inside the entranceway.
It occurred to me that this place wasn’t much different than the rest stops we used to visit when I was younger. But there was something else too…something strange. It took me a second to realize what it was, but once I did, I knew I wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.
This particular rest area didn’t have any bathrooms; instead, there was a single building set apart from the others. And unlike most of those buildings, this one appeared to be completely deserted. In fact, not even the parking spaces outside were occupied.
I stood staring at the structure for a full five seconds before realizing why. All of the windows were boarded up! No wonder nobody was using it. If anyone came near, he would surely run straight into a wall of glass.
Still, I couldn’t resist looking closer. I approached the doorway and peeked inside. Sure enough, the interior looked totally empty. Not a soul in sight. Just an old wooden desk sitting off to one side, surrounded by stacks of papers. On top of the desk sat a pair of glasses, still half-full of water. Whoever owned the place obviously left without finishing his drink.
My gaze drifted back to the window, and I saw a man standing across the way. He wore a dark suit, complete with a tie, and held a briefcase in one hand. His hair was neatly combed, and his face bore a faint smile. Then, suddenly, the stranger turned and began walking toward our car. For a moment, I wondered who he was, and how he got here. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?
But no sooner had the question formed than I realized that I already knew the answer. That’s right, I told myself. You know him very well indeed.
The stranger reached the driver’s side window and tapped lightly on the glass. When I glanced up, I saw that he had a familiar look about him: pale skin, black clothes, and jet-black hair tied tightly behind his neck. Only this time, the expression on his face was far more serious.
“Hello?” he called softly. “Is anybody home?”
***
For several moments, nothing happened. Then, finally, I stepped out of the car and crossed the asphalt toward the rest stop. By the time I made it halfway there, the stranger had disappeared. I scanned around frantically until I caught a glimpse of his silhouette moving through the trees beyond the parking lot. Once again, he seemed to vanish entirely.
Then I remembered something else. Something important.
Mom was waiting for me, leaning against the hood of the car. She smiled as I drew nearer, then patted my shoulder. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “You scared me to death!”
I laughed nervously. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
She gave me a quick hug, then pulled away. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah…”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean ‘yeah’? What’s wrong?”
I hesitated. There was so much I wanted to tell her, yet somehow none of it felt quite real. Instead, I simply shrugged. “Nothing really,” I replied. “Just tired is all.”
That wasn’t true, of course. Nothing was ever truly simple anymore. Still, I figured it might be best if I kept mum for the moment. After all, Mom had been through a traumatic experience herself. Maybe it’d help us both to wait a while before talking about anything else.
So I decided to change the subject. “Hey, where should we go next?” I asked.
We hadn’t gone anywhere since leaving the hospital, which meant that we must’ve passed through a dozen or two states during our journey thus far. Now that we were free to move wherever we pleased, though, I thought maybe it was high time we started heading north. We needed to get to Canada—and fast.
Mom considered the matter briefly, then pointed to a small road leading westward. “How does that sound?” she suggested.
I agreed wholeheartedly. The farther south we went, the greater the chances were of running into trouble. Sooner rather than later, someone would probably come after us. At least, that was what I hoped. Otherwise, things could turn ugly pretty quickly.
And besides, I reasoned, it just wouldn’t feel like Christmas unless we spent some quality time together under the stars.
After making sure everything was packed, we headed down the highway, keeping a watchful eye on the rearview mirror. It didn’t take long to reach the border crossing. As soon as we arrived, however, I noticed a problem.
A police officer was parked directly ahead, blocking our path. A second patrolman waited nearby, also watching over the area. They appeared to have set up shop outside the checkpoint, and they weren’t exactly friendly faces. In fact, their expressions reminded me a bit too much of those from the nightmarish dream I’d experienced earlier.
As I watched them closely, I heard a voice call out to me from behind. “Excuse me, sir! Can I see your license please?”
It took me a few seconds to realize that the speaker belonged to the first cop. I turned and found him staring at me expectantly. My heart skipped a beat, but I managed to keep calm.
“Sure thing,” I said, pulling my wallet from its pocket. I opened the flap and extracted my ID card, then handed it to him along with a pen.
He studied each document carefully, scanning every inch of the page. He looked back up at me once he finished, then held the papers in front of his chest. “Thank you,” he muttered. “Please drive safely.”
With that, he returned the documents to my hand. For a brief instant, I stared dumbfoundedly at the man’s retreating form. Then I snapped out of it, hurriedly stuffing the paperwork inside my jacket.
Once I got the chance, I leaned forward between the seats. “Didn’t he say anything else?” I whispered to Mom.
She shook her head. “No… not a word.”
I sighed. “Well, whatever. Let’s hurry up and cross already. This place gives me the creeps.”
Mom nodded silently, then put the car into gear. Within minutes, we were driving across the border without incident.
From there, we continued on our way. Soon enough, the landscape began to transform dramatically. Gone were the endless fields of corn; instead, rolling hills covered by thick forests came into view. And although this part of America was still technically within the United States, it certainly seemed more foreign than any place we’d visited so far.
The further we drove, the stranger it became. Eventually, we reached a town called Rockford, Illinois. From here, we planned to make our final push toward Chicago. But when we finally made it to the city limits, we discovered an unexpected surprise.
An enormous crowd had gathered around the entrance to downtown, blocking traffic completely. No one knew why they’d formed such a large gathering, nor did anyone seem eager to explain themselves. All we could do was sit tight while we tried to figure out how to proceed.
Eventually, a pair of officers showed up to try and clear the streets. One was a woman who wore a badge pinned to her uniform. She carried a baton in either hand, and she glared menacingly at everyone present. Her partner, meanwhile, stood off to the side, looking bored.
When the cops approached us, I rolled down my window. “Uh… excuse me!” I shouted above the din. “What’s going on? Why are all these people standing in the street?”
Without waiting for a response, I glanced over at Mom. “Do you know what’s happening, hon?”
Her expression remained unchanged. “Not really…”
I shrugged helplessly. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. Just stay cool, okay?”
Mom gave a nod, then returned her attention to the road. After another minute or two, the situation resolved itself. Traffic resumed moving smoothly again, and the police cleared away the last stragglers. Once they were gone, we proceeded onward.
We eventually crossed the river separating Illinois from Indiana. Shortly thereafter, we entered the state capital of Indianapolis. We passed through several suburbs before reaching the center of the metropolis proper. There, we stopped at a gas station to fill up. While I pumped the fuel, Mom bought a newspaper from the convenience store next door. When she emerged from the building, I asked if there was news about what happened in Rockford.
“Nothing yet,” she replied curtly. “But I’m sure something will come up sooner rather than later.”
That sounded ominous. Still, I decided to let it go for now. The important thing right now was getting to the hotel where Dad would be staying. So after paying for the gasoline, we left the pump running and went inside.
There, we picked up some snacks and drinks. I grabbed a couple bottles of water, then paid the cashier. Before leaving the counter, though, I paused to look at the headlines displayed overhead. They read:
***
NEWS HEADLINES (LOCAL)
’MURDERED IN ROCKFORD’: THREE DEAD, TWO WOUNDED
Police Investigating ‘Mass Murder’
Local Man Charged With Three Counts Of Homicide
—Rockford Register Star, August 24th
My eyes widened as I scanned the article. It described exactly what had taken place earlier today. Apparently, three men had been killed and two others wounded during an altercation outside a local barbershop. A suspect named Robert Jenson was arrested shortly afterward, but no charges had yet been filed against him.
As I reread the story, I noticed that the names of the victims weren’t mentioned anywhere. That struck me as strange since their identities should have played a crucial role in the investigation. Yet somehow, the reporters hadn’t bothered to mention them. Instead, they focused exclusively on the criminal’s arrest.
It didn’t take long for me to realize why. As I suspected, the murders were connected with the case we’d investigated in New York City. In other words, they might very well be related to the same killer responsible for those crimes. If so, then this new development meant everything we’d done thus far had been pointless.
And even worse, the murderer must’ve known we were coming. He probably figured we’d arrive just in time to witness his latest crime. Which meant he was planning to strike again tomorrow night!
This realization sent a chill down my spine. What if we couldn’t stop him this time? Would we end up like the people murdered back home…?
No way. This wasn’t over until we caught the guy red-handed. And once we did, we’d bring him to justice. Then we could rest easy knowing we’d saved countless lives.
With renewed determination, I hurried out of the shop and rejoined Mom. By the time we got into the car, I felt much better. Now, all we needed to do was get to the hotel without any more trouble.
Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worst almost immediately.
A few blocks ahead lay the intersection of Michigan Avenue and Washington Street. But when we reached the crossroads, we found ourselves confronted by a massive traffic jam. Cars lined both sides of the road, creating a virtual blockade. Even pedestrians seemed unable to pass through the mess.
The cause of the problem was obvious. Several dozen vehicles had crashed into one another, resulting in a pileup. At least half a mile of cars stretched across the highway, blocking our path forward.
“Ugh…” I groaned. “Looks like we’re stuck here awhile.”
Mom nodded grimly. “Yeah… looks like it…”
After a moment, she turned to face me. “You wanna try driving around the block?”
I shook my head. “Nah, not worth the risk. Let’s wait till the wreckers clear the area first. Maybe they can move faster than the police.”
She agreed readily. “Okay, sounds good to me. How long do you think that’ll take?”
“Hard to say,” I admitted. “Depends how many wrecks there are and whether anyone needs help evacuating the scene.”
In truth, I knew little about such matters. However, judging from the number of emergency vehicles gathered nearby, I assumed most drivers had already made it safely off the roadway. That meant only minor injuries or property damage remained. Plus, none of the wrecked cars appeared too badly damaged. So unless someone suffered a serious injury, the cleanup process shouldn’t take long.
Still, I wanted to err on the side of caution. After all, we still had plenty of ground to cover tonight. So instead, we sat tight while waiting for the accident site to be cleared. Fortunately, the delay proved short-lived. Within minutes, the wreckage began being towed away. Soon enough, the entire stretch of highway was open again.
By that point, however, darkness had fallen. We had less than four hours before the next attack. There simply wasn’t time to waste.
So after making sure the coast was clear, I pulled onto the street and drove onward. Thankfully, we encountered no further problems along the way. When we finally arrived at the hotel, I breathed a sigh of relief.
But despite our success, something else nagged at me. Something important I’d forgotten to check.
What was it? Oh yeah, the hotel room itself. Wasn’t it supposed to be haunted?!
Well, technically speaking, I suppose ghosts aren’t real. They’re nothing more than figments of human imagination. Still, that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. For example, some people claim to see spirits floating above their beds every morning. Others insist they hear voices whispering in the dark. Some even swear they’ve seen apparitions walking through walls.
Personally, I’m skeptical of these stories. The fact is, that humans tend to overestimate the strangeness of the world around us. It’s what makes superstition so popular. People believe in magic because they want to. Not because it actually exists.
However, I also know firsthand how powerful fear can be. Especially when it comes to hauntings. Just ask anyone who’s ever stayed overnight in an abandoned building. Or walked alone through the woods late at night.
The End