Reign Of Terror by Chris Morin

Chapter 6 - Hospital-ity

    The car rolled up to the cabin that was secretly nestled in the hills. Trying not bring any attention to the vehicle, Ike drove within the speed limit and made no sudden movements on the road. The cabin had been deserted for years. Only a handful of  people knew about it. It was about 50 yards from a small secluded lake. Ike had driven all night and he was very tired. The pain in his arm had dulled a bit but if he let go of the pressure on his arm, the blood would run.
    Upon arrival, Ike scavenged in the car for anything that may be of some use. He found the nursing home woman's purse behind the driver seat and emptied it out on the backseat. He found a lighter with some money and useless credit cards. Nobody would believe he was a member since nineteen seventy-one. He also found a pager and an address book.
    "Probably not enough time for a date right know."
   Ike continued to go through the big pile of junk on the backseat.
    "How much stuff do women carry in these things?"
    Finally he came across something of value. It was a small sewing kit. Ike looked down at his arm.
    "Well, if Rambo can do it, so can I."
    The glove box was the next place that Ike tackled. Not much of value there unless you wanted to take a trip to Wyoming. There was a beautiful state map folded up neatly along with a replacement light bulb to one of the car's tail lights. He closed the glove box and got out of the car still trying to keep some pressure on his arm. He opened up the trunk. It was empty except for a car jack. Ike slammed the trunk door down in disgust.
    "Typical woman!"
    Ike walked toward the front of the cabin. It looked dark and desolate. The door was locked but he remembered where his mother had hid the spare key. It was under a rock over by a great big pine tree on the right side of the house. After finding the key, Ike unlocked the front door and entered the cabin. Not a soul had been in the cabin for years. It was in beautiful shape and would be a perfect place to hideout from the police and then finish the job on Troutman.
    The cabin had two bedrooms, a small kitchen, a bathroom and a good size living room. Ike walked directly into the house and straight to the kitchen sink. He pulled out the small sewing kit and found a tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol under the sink. He opened the kit and removed a needle and a small spool of white thread. He pulled off a large length of thread and tried, as best as you can with your blood spilling all over the place, to thread the needle.
    After fooling around with that for a few minutes and muttering a few hundred explatives, Ike opened up the alcohol bottle and poured a little of the liquid over the needle and then his hands. He turned on the kitchen sink's cold water and tried to clean out the wound as the sweat of pain continued to bead up on his forehead.
    The pain was excrutiating as he inserted the needle into his arm. In and out the needle turned. On occasion, Ike felt a little faint but he was able to compose himself. After about fifteen minutes, he was all sown up. He stuck his arm under the kitchen faucet and rinsed off the excess blood from his arm. He walked into the bathroom and found a box of bandages and a roll of gauze under the bathroom sink. He unwrapped one of the extra large bandages and placed it over the wound. After that was done, he rolled the gauze around his arm and taped it down with some duct tape.
    After fixing himself up, he noticed that the fireplace had wood in it. He opened the flue and got the fire going by lighting some old newspapers with the lighter that was in the nursing home woman's purse. In a few minutes, the fire was warm and comfortable. Ike grabbed a pillow from the couch and curled up on the floor next to the fireplace. Ten seconds later Ike was fast asleep.

    Inspector Troutman awoke a couple of days after his confrontation with the ax. A nurse hovered over him.
    "Where am I?"
    The nurse gave Troutman a soft smile as she checked his pulse.
    "You are in Holmes Grove General, Mister Troutman."
    Troutman looked around the room cautiously.
    "How long have I been here?"
    The nurse continued to look at her watch.
    "Just a couple of days. You were pretty banged up. It took the doctors about eight hours to put your leg back together. You almost lost it entirely."
    Troutman pulled back the blanket and noticed a huge bandage wrapped around his leg.
    "It was a good thing your partner called for backup otherwise you may have bled to death."
    "When can I get out of here?"
    The nurse finished with Troutman and headed towards the room's door.
    "A couple of days yet. Relax, work will still be there when you get back."
    Troutman exhaled deeply.
    "But how many more people will die before then?"

<>    A scurrying around Ike's head woke him from his sound sleep. It startled him into consciousness. He sat up and noticed that the front door was partially opened. He grabbed the knife he had kept close to him while he slept. It had been his only companion since his vistit to the Troutman home and the death of his brother. Was someone in the house with him? A noise could be heard from one of the bedrooms.
    He quietly stood up and cautiously made his way over to the master bedroom. The bedroom's main door was fully opened and rustling could be heard from inside of the room. Ike made his way over to the door and peeked into the room. The room was about ten feet square with a full size bed, a small dresser and a small closet. The closet door was opened.
    Ike gripped the knife tighter. Whomever this intruder was would not live to see another day. He crept silently over to the closet, heart beating wildly in his chest. More noise were heard in the closet. Ike thought to himself that it sounded like someone was going through a box of old pictures in the closet.
    As soon as he reached the front of the closet, he raised the knife in his hand above his head and his eyes were as wide as they could go. Instantly, a small tiger cat jumped in front of him with a small mouse's head dangling from its mouth. The cat startled Ike sending him falling back onto the bed. Ike began to laugh uncontrollably. He must have never closed the front door before his makeshift operation.
    After he got himself under control, anger began to get the better of him. The cat finally realized that a stranger was in the room and ran across the floor. Like a predator on the hunt, Ike leapt off of the bed and onto the cat. Its bones were crushed by the boy's weight. Ike began to rip the cat to pieces as blood dripped everywhere.
    "That's what you get for waking me up!"
    Ike decided that something needed to be done with the car he had stolen. He went outside and pulled everything he could possible use out of it. He then got into the car and put it in neutral. The car began to roll. It was a fairly straight line to the nearby lake and with very few obstacles. He put the breaks on just shy of the water and then rolled down all of the windows. He placed the car in neutral again but this time got out of the car. He got behind it and began to push. Within seconds the car slid into the lake and began to fill with water. In a few moments, the car vanished from sight.
    With that out of the way, Ike pondered his situation. There were fishing poles in the cabin so there wouldn't be an issue with food. He also had money so he could always try to go to a store and get some food but he'd make that very infrequent so he wouldn't get recognized. He also needed to deal with Troutman. He must pay for killing his brother.

    Troutman was packing his stuff to go home. He was being discharged from the hospital. But before he could leave, the Police Chief had a few questions for Troutman. With the death of so many people including several police officers, the search for Ike Crenshaw had reached a critical level and the Chief did not want any more losses of life.
    "No Chief, this has gone way past the point of becoming personal. I will do whatever it takes to find Ike Crenshaw."
    "Don't push me on this again Troutman. If you push this issue, this may cost you your job."
    "I have been investigating this case from the beginning. I have been attacked, lead on a wild police chase, had a house blown up on me and have seen my partner killed right before my eyes. I will not let go of this investigation."
    "I was a bit leary of putting you on this case in the beginning due to your personal involvement. Now, after all that has happened, I wonder if I made the right choice."
    "Give me another week. I'll get him."
    "You have one week, Troutman. After that, you're off the case."
    "Thank you."
    "But I have to warn you Troutman, if one more person is found dead because of this boy, I will have your job."
    "Don't worry Chief. If I can't find him in another week, I'll resign."

    A taxi dropped off Troutman in front of his house. He walked up to the front door and then inside. The room had been cleaned with virtually no signs of a struggle left in the room. After tossing the bag of clothes on the couch, he walked to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of root beer and closed the door. After twisting off the bottle cap, he wandered around the house thinking about the case and trying to figure out what Ike would do next. There was still a slight twinge in his leg as he walked. The stitches wouldn't be removed for another two weeks but his leg felt good. He wandered into the living room and saw the picture of Peg Crenshaw on his mantle. He stared at the picture and in an instant he had his answer.