Chapter Twenty

“Caleb, it's ok. Calm down.” Mayor Barton whispered into the dim lit cell in an attempt to calm the old veteran. He reached down to the dusty floor and took old of Tommy’s pistol, as the discharged smell of smoke and gunpowder singed his nostrils.

“Sorry, Paul.” Tommy sheepishly re-holstered his weapon.

“Christ, he could have killed me!” Ransom’s shrill voice could barely be heard over Caleb’s continued combat rant in the background. It appeared the old bugger really was losing it in the carnage.

“What the hell are you doing here Ransom?”

“I didn't take anything, or hurt anyone. I was just working on the story.”
Tommy straightened up. “Breaking and entering. That's what I'd call it. You're under arrest mister.”

“Well, I didn't break anything.”

“This is our school, Ransom. I bet it’s a Federal offense to break in here.”

The Mayor’s last sentence sent a chill down Ransom’s spine. The thought of losing the story seemed to pale in comparison to becoming a felon. He cursed under his breath for not having thought this all the way through.

The Sheriff moved closer to Ransom with his handcuffs ready. As he grasped Ransom by the shoulder, another figure emerged from the staircase, giving all three men a startle.

“What the hell is going on down here?”

It was the good Doctor Mastes. Cletus was wrapped hastily in a bathrobe and looking quite perturbed at having been awakened at this hour. He was having a good dream too, when the squad car pulled into the school lot. He couldn’t quite remember what it was, but it was peaceful – and it was right there, at the edge of his brain, lingering like succubus and coaxing him back.

“Well, the gang’s all here.” Ransom quipped.

From the cell, Caleb’s assault on the door had ceased, although the occasional swelling of profanity emerged in waves. Upon hearing the doctor’s voice, Caleb had gone totally silent.

“Doc, is that you? I don't feel so good, Doc.”

The exhaustion now fully set upon the old man, Caleb’s legs gave way and he crumbled to the floor inside the cell. Fumbling a moment DocMastes started over to work the lock with his key.

“Hold on, Caleb. I'm coming. All of this trauma can't be good for it, Paul.”

Ransom took notice of the doctor’s choice of words. The trauma can’t be good for ‘it.’ He clearly meant the tumor. Ransom’s thought returned to his story, even if but a moment. The locals here had a janitor, a World War II veteran, locked in a school basement. The janitor suffered from some kind of illness or injury, Ransom couldn’t be certain, but Kathy told him it was a tumor. A bulging, lucky tumor… the BLT. The old man was clearly off his rocker, and if any of this was true, the town was too.

“Cuff him Tommy. Let him spend a night in the tank with Bo.”

Mayor Barton’s voice broke his train of thought. Kathy had warned him that who could be in danger, and as the cold steel slipped around his wrists, he thought his predicament might even be worse than a breaking and entering charge.

“Come on Paul. No harm, no foul right?”

“Pipe down, you're gonna like Bo. I think he might be just the thing for you.”

“Paul, quit trying to scare the kid and come over here. This is serious.” Doc’s voice echoed through the basement hallway.

As Tommy began to escort Ransom up the stairs, he caught a glimpse of his trousers in the improved light. He never wanted so bad to dust himself off, as huge clumps of dirt and debris covered his clothing, even up as far as his navel.

“Damn dirty floor.” Ransom muttered. He then turned and shouted back down the stairs toward Mayor Barton, “Not much of a janitor you have there, Paul!”