Disclaimer: The central characters of Poltergeist: The Legacy do not belong to me – they are the property of Trilogy and MGM – and I’ve simply borrowed them for a short period of time.

All the other characters were created by me. Hope you enjoy …

POLTERGEIST

THE LEGACY

THE GRAY AND THE BLACK

Chapter 1

Tuesday

Fiona Dexter opened her eyes to a bright early morning. The sun was still low but the air was so clear at this altitude. She could see the sky was cloudless, achingly blue. Even though her bedroom was warm, she shivered. She knew that the temperature outside was below freezing. It would climb during the day but, for now, it was freezing out there. She glanced sideways and smiled fondly when she saw the still sleeping face of her husband. He would wake soon enough so she let him sleep on. Fiona slid from the bed, pulled on a robe and hurried downstairs to get the coffee on and start breakfast. Dex was between courses at the moment. One group had graduated, the next was arriving. Classes would begin in earnest next week. This week, though, it meant he was around more than normal. She was glad of that. Her nerves had never been a problem .. until recently. Fiona had a measure of pride in herself for the way she was always so calm. She worried, of course she did, but she was a military wife and a mother. She refused to let her worry show. Yet, over the last couple of weeks, Fiona had felt her stress levels soaring. Masking from her family how she felt was becoming impossible.

“Boys! C’mon, or you’ll miss the bus!” she called up the stairs.

She went back into the kitchen, poured her first cup of coffee of the day. She’d slept deeply the night before yet she still felt tired. The doctor had taken a blood sample for tests. He though she might be anemic but she’d tested fine. He’d given her sleeping pills but Fiona didn’t like to take them. She didn’t have a job to get up for but she couldn’t rely on Dex to get the boys fed and ready for school. Dex wasn’t a morning person, so it came down to her. Sleeping pills were a last resort. Fiona knew what was wrong with her. Depression. And she dared anyone in the world not to feel depressed if they’d had to endure what she had just recently.

She hadn’t said a word to the doctor. She hadn’t mentioned it to her neighbors, hadn’t spoken of it to her friends. Dex knew – not about the depression – but he’d been here, in the house. He wasn’t stupid. He had eyes. He’d seen. If Fiona was always calm, almost stoical, Dex was ramrod stiff. He never lost it, never. But, for a split second, she’d seen .. something in his eyes. Pain? Puzzlement? Hurt, maybe. Then the shutters had come down. That he was frightened never occurred to her.

The sounds coming from upstairs weren’t at the right level. She looked at her watch. “Boys! C’mon! Move it!” she called again. The noise level increased.

Fiona put oatmeal into two bowls, poured two glasses of orange juice, put two lunch bags on the counter by the door. She heard a heavier set of footsteps start moving around. Dex was awake. Lighter footsteps came pounding downstairs. She smiled at her twin sons as they sat down quickly and began to shovel oatmeal into their mouths.

“Good morning,” she greeted.

“Hi, Mom,” they chorused. “Nina says she can sit with us tomorrow .. if you have plans.”

“Tomorrow ..?” Fiona frowned.

“Saint Valentine’s Day,” Jake pointed out.

“Dad might be taking you out,” Jack added. “If he is, Nina says she can come sit with us.”

“Oh.” Fiona was impressed yet not really surprised. She’d raised her boys to think ahead. They were simply demonstrating how good a mother she was. “I’ll .. remind him.”

Dex wouldn’t have remembered something like that. His mind was on other matters. His lectures. His new intake of recruits. His .. second family. Fiona wasn’t jealous, she was pleased they were there. Dex could go to war, anytime, she knew that, but, for now, he had a regular job with more or less regular hours. Away by day, home at night. Even after two years, there was still a novelty to it.

She heard the bus pull up. “Run,” she ordered. They scrambled, grabbing lunch bags, school bags, coats and mufflers. The door opened, was slammed shut. Fiona winced briefly and smiled to herself then began to clear the table.

“They gone?” Dex called from upstairs.

“Oh yeah,” she replied, putting another glass of juice, a cup of coffee, and a stack of waffles on the table. “It’s safe. You can come down now.”

She heard him begin to descend the stairs. Fiona opened the back door to let the cat in. “Mitzi!” she called. She looked down. She screamed.

*****

Nick came to an abrupt halt in a spray of snow. He felt great, alive. There was just something about skiing that pushed all the right buttons. His heart was thumping, his face was flushed, his eyes sparkled. He turned to look for Merlin, and got a snowball right in the face.

His eyes narrowed. “You want a war?”

“No,” she said. “I’m just trying to provoke one.”

“It’s working,” he warned with a good natured grin.

“It shouldn’t,” Merlin replied. “No matter what the provocation, you have to stay focused.” She bent, idly scooped up another handful of snow and began compacting it. “Has to be water off a duck’s back, Nicky.”

“I’m not gonna let you pound on me with snowballs, an’ stand here an’ take it.”

“That’s where you are so wrong,” she grinned and let fly.

Nick wiped the snow from his face. “How is this teaching me anything?” he asked, his voice patient but holding a faint note of aggravation. “I do know how to act in combat. I can stay focused under fire.”

“I know that,” she shrugged. “But SEAL training and Enforcer training is different. Consider, for one second, if you will – SEAL training is general most of the time and becomes specialized before a mission. You get an in-depth briefing before you leave, another briefing before you land. You know as much as you can in advance about where an’ who an’ what. That’s all great as a starting point. Enforcer training is like .. one series of ambushes after another. A demon could erupt behind you right now. Pow! There is it! Would you be ready? I am. No matter what provocation or what’s going on around me, I’m ready to do what I have to, no hesitation. That’s what you’ve got to be like too.” She came closer, kissed his cheek. “A lot of the time, there is time to think an’ plan an’ figure out the where an’ who an’ what. But sometimes there isn’t. Sometimes, it just happens.”

Nick nodded. “I get that but, Merli, I’m not an Enforcer.”

“I know that too. But what happened to you in Coronado must mean the boss thinks you can hack it as back up. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have given you those weapons, one to incapacitate, the other to kill. If I’m busy with one demon and a second pops outta nowhere, you have to be ready, Nick. If you hesitate, I could die, you could die, we both could die, and the evil guys win. Even as back up, you need some training .. even if you never put it to use. So .. I will test your patience to its limits in every way I can imagine. Your task is not to react, to keep the focus.”

“No matter what.”

“S’right.”

“Okay.” He pushed off and bent into a crouch. “First you gotta catch me,” he called, disappearing over the edge of the slope and gaining speed.

“Oh .. I will,” Merlin promised quietly.

*****

Fiona Dexter pressed her lips together. She didn’t feel it. They were numb. Her entire body felt numb. Her stomach, however, was churning. She thought she might be sick. Her mind wanted to retreat, to find a small, dark hole somewhere, crawl into it, and never come out.

“We have to tell someone, Dex.”

It was her voice, but she wasn’t aware she’d spoken. It came to her from a long way off.

“Who?”

Her eyes swiveled toward him. “Who? Who the hell do you think?” Her voice rose from a stunned echo to a shriek of hysteria. “The cops! The MPs! Someone!”

He stared at her. Fiona crossed her arms, hugging her shoulders, trying to hold herself together. Tears had bloomed in her eyes. She was shaking so much, they spilled over. As she sensed them rolling down her cheeks, she dragged in a shuddering breath and she shrugged helplessly.

“We can’t go on like this. I can’t go on. You might be able to cope with it .. but I can’t.”

Lieutenant Colonel William Dexter, United States Air Force, senior instructor at the Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, shook his head slowly.

“You must think I’m some kinda cold, unfeeling, heartless bastard, Fiona, if you imagine for one second I can cope with this.”

She blinked. “You’ve never said.”

“Neither have you.” He straightened, ran a hand thru his military short hair. “I have spoken with the MPs.”

Dex had seen a lot in the course of his career as a combat fighter pilot. His reputation amongst his cadets was that he had a cast iron stomach and a steel rod up his butt. Yet this … This turned even his stomach.

Mitzi had died in absolute agony. Some sick bastard had used her as an ashtray; there were numerous cigarette burns all over her body. Two of her legs had been broken, one leg dislocated from its socket. One eyeball was ruptured. And she had been opened up, blood soaking into her soft fur and drying, her entrails ripped apart, and her heart … Well, God only knew where it was.

Fiona had found her on the back doorstep and had screamed. Dex couldn’t blame her – he’d ground out a pretty vicious curse himself. A week ago, their pet canary Snowbird had been found one morning in the bottom of its cage with its head pulled off. Dex’s tank of tropical fish were all dead too. Someone had put bleach in their water.

“They’ve investigated. They said .. there’s no signs of forced entry.”

Fiona stared at him. “That’s it? They can’t find any signs so they’re giving up?” Her voice was rising again.

“I’ll call them again.,” Dex said heavily. “After I bury Mitzi.” Beside Snowbird and the fish.

“This is evidence, Dex! Evidence!” she snarled, right on the edge of hysteria.

He swallowed, knowing she was right. “I’ll take pictures,” he responded. “She’s been thru enough, Fiona! I don’t want people … ” He couldn’t go on. Dex turned away; he didn’t want her to see him crying.

“Dex, someone around here is targeting us,” Fiona remarked. “One of our neighbors. We have to tell the police.”

He shook his head.

“For God’s sake! We don’t have any pets left!” she snapped, tipping over the edge. “Maybe you’d like to see one of the boys attacked and killed next! Or me! We’ve run out of options, Dex!”

He spun round and slapped her. Fiona was shocked into silence, her eyes opening wide, one hand rising to her stinging cheek. Then she began to cry, long, breathless sobs which tore at her throat. Dex pulled her into his arms and held her tightly as all the bottled up pain and anguish flooded out in a cleansing torrent. His own pain was vented silently but was no less than hers.

Tell someone. Yes. He knew he had to but he didn’t know who to tell. The cops might put a watch on his house. The MPs could go over it again. He didn’t believe it would help. Tortured, mutilated pets were low on the priority list when matched against homicides and other violent crimes. Who to tell? Who would help? Dex didn’t know what to do. So he just did the things he could – he held his wife and he cried.

*****

“I feel a little embarrassed.”

It was a softly spoken admission. The driver of the rental car said nothing, there was no need.

“I mean, I know I’m too old for this.”

“Being eighteen doesn’t mean you’re too old. People a lot older than you feel .. apprehensive the first time they leave their home city.”

Christopher Drummond laughed quietly. “For sure. Even former tough guys like me. I guess what I’m trying to say is – ”

“You don't have to say anything, Chris.”

“I want to. I don’t have any parents. If I did, they’d be doing this. But I do have you, Father. I’m glad you came with me.”

Philip Callahan smiled and, while he knew pride was a sin, he did feel a moment of unassuming pride in the way Chris had turned his life around.

“A familiar face around while you settle in .. it’s the least I could do. And don't worry. I know how important reputations and attitudes are in places like this. I’ll stay in the background.”

“You’ve been here before?”

Philip shook his head. “I used to know someone who was in military service.”

“Air Force?”

“Navy.” Philip gave a wry but affectionate smile. “He was a tough one. Hated anyone to think he was anything but totally self-reliant. It took a while and a lot of hard effort but eventually I managed to make a small dent in his armor.”

Chris studied the priest’s expression. “And you became his friend.”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” Philip laughed. “For a long time .. we rubbed along, tolerating each other’s personalities, the perceived weaknesses. Then we fell out in a big way. And then .. I guess we matured. Instead of fixing on the weaknesses, we saw the strengths we each possessed. Last time we parted, we parted as friends.”

Chris grinned. “He’s a lot like me then.”

“In a way, yes,” Philip agreed. “And, like him, you’ve done well, made something of yourself, risen above all the pain of your past. I’m proud of you, Chris. It isn’t every young man who makes it into the Air Force Academy."

“When I think back , how I was when you first found me … ” Chris shook his head. “It’s a miracle I’m here.”

“I can see why you might think that, but, in this case, you’re wrong. You did all this by yourself. God just .. helped point you in the right direction.”

Chris sat up, his heart beating fast, as Philip slowed the car at the security gate.

“You’ll be fine,” Philip said to him, rolling down the window. “This is Christopher Drummond, a new recruit. I’m Philip Callahan.”

The sentry checked a list and nodded. “How long you planning to stay, sir?”

“Here? Just long enough to see Chris settled. In the area, a week or so.”

“Welcome to the Academy,” the sentry greeted and waved them on thru.

“Why a week?” Chris asked. “Think I’m gonna change my mind?”

Philip laughed again. “This has been your dream for the past two years. You’ve worked hard, made all the right choices. You won’t change your mind. I’m staying because .. the Bishop can use some time without me and I’ve never been to Colorado before. I thought I’d make the most of the opportunity you and God have given me and be a tourist for a few days.”

They parked outside the administration block.

“You’ll be okay from here,” Philip declared. “You’re a handful of minutes away from making a new group of friends, all who’ll share in your dream. If you need to talk with me, I’m staying at the Amarillo Motel.”

Chris nodded, collecting his duffel from the back seat. “Thanks for everything, Father Callahan. When I graduate .. you’ll be here to see, won’t you?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Philip replied, solemnly shaking the young man’s hand. “Go with God.”

He watched Chris head into the single story concrete office block and he smiled briefly. He didn’t expect Chris to look back, and he didn’t. Looking back would have meant Chris had doubts .. and there was no way he could have those. From a foul-mouthed, insolent-eyed, resentful teenage tearaway, Chris had grown into a responsible and enthusiastic young adult who was dedicated to his dream. Philip hadn’t done it. He’d helped in working the transformation by the pertinent application of patience and unconditional love .. and the occasional tough lecture. But this was Chris’s triumph. Philip had been honored when Chris had asked him to come to Colorado Springs and see him enter the Academy.

Philip had done that now. His duty to the orphan was over. And he was, now, a tourist. The sun was shining in a sky so blue it was painful, and the air was crisp and cold. Pockets of snow lay around. He grinned. Most places for tourists would be closed this time of year. Nature, however, was free and the scenery around here was breathtaking. Sometimes, the best way to connect with God was simply to find an isolated spot and just admire the spectacular beauty of creation.

Philip heard a burst of laughter from inside the building and he nodded. It was the signal he’d been waiting for and it told him he was free. He looked at his watch. Time to go.

*****

Dex patted down the soil and shoved a small wooden marker at one end. Mitzi, it read, RIP. Silently, still crouching down, he murmured a prayer, and he promised revenge.

You couldn’t see the graves from the house. Dex had chosen an area sheltered by trees. There was a rough wooden bench there but he was the only one who used it. Fiona said it was ‘his place’, the place he went when he needed to forget about technology, fly by wire, altimeters and fuel gauges, and fire controls. Dex had never told her but he thought Fiona was one of the wisest women he knew. The samurai of feudal Japan – now, there was a group of men, and women, who were the most dedicated, loyal and fierce warriors anyone could care to read about, and they had balanced the ferocity of war with writing poetry, flower arranging and origami. The more brutal the profession, the deeper the need for spirituality. Dex chilled out by communing with nature.

He didn’t talk to the trees. He wasn’t that weird. He just sat in the garden, away from the house, and was quiet. Dex did his best thinking out here without ever thinking at all.

Right now though, his mind was full of red hot anger. His clean shaven, square jawed face was wiped of expression. It was a skill he’d developed over time. Don’t let it show. Keep it all inside. If you get shot down, don’t give your captors the pleasure of seeing how scared you really are. This was different. He didn’t want to scare Fiona by showing how furious he was. His blood was literally boiling.

He straightened, sat on the bench, gazed at nothing and waited for the anger to cool. Yet his gaze kept being dragged to the three pathetic little mounds of earth. He could almost hear their cries begging for retribution.

Dex stood suddenly. He needed to get away from this, from the house, from his wife. He needed to calm down. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly, to make a coherent report, to decide the next thing to do until he did. He strode around the trees and moved onto the path. Snow was starting to melt slowly on the lawn. He didn’t see any of it.

Fiona was in the lounge, curled into a tight ball of misery on the sofa. “Dex ..?” she called.

“Sweetheart, don’t take this wrong,” he said, pausing in the lounge doorway. “I’m not leaving forever. Just an hour or so. I gotta be on my own for a while. If I stay here .. I might start smashing up the house. Okay?”

Incredibly, she smiled, even laughed softly. “Sure, I understand,” Fiona nodded. “My husband’s a human being after all.”

“Look, er .. go into town or something. Go hit the stores. Don’t stay here.”

“I’ll call Jillian. I could use the company.”

“And no more keeping it inside. No more secrets.”

She was still depressed but her stress level plummeted. “Okay. Thanks.”

Dex nodded and went on his way. He slammed the front door and didn’t care if his neighbors heard or not, or what they thought. One of them was responsible. Similarly, he slammed the car door and drove away with a squeal of tires which left burnt rubber on the road. He hoped his reckless driving would be noticed. He hoped the cops pulled him over. Maybe then they’d see how the disintegration of his home life was affecting him and maybe they’d do something to help restore it.

All he knew at this point was that a crime of this magnitude demanded one hell of a lot of scenery if he was going to clear his head.

*****

“Where you going?” Nick sounded surprised.

“I’m going inside. I’ve had enough skiing for one morning. My knees ache.” Merlin looked back at his crestfallen expression. “You don't have to come with me. Skiing is hardly a group sport. You go up to the top of the mountain again and I’ll go soak in the hot tub.”

Now he looked torn. One more exhilarating rush down the mountain or sharing a hot tub …

“I’ll prepare lunch for us. Get the fire going. It’ll be nice and cozy for when you decide you’ve had enough.”

“Merli .. are you mad at me?”

“No!” she laughed.

“Is it because I wouldn’t learn the lesson?”

“I’m not mad at you, Nick,” she declared. “Go. Ski down the mountain. We’re paying enough for the equipment and the lift passes. Make the most of it.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure,” she smiled.

“Okay. One last trip. I promise.”

She waved and then, picking up her skis, trudged thru the snow toward their villa. “Yeah, you make the most of it cos this afternoon,” she murmured to herself, her eyes glinting with wicked humor, “I am gonna make sure you learn the lesson … ”

*****

Philip checked in at the Amarillo Motel and unpacked his few belongings in his room. It was basic; a two bed room and a bathroom. TV, table, two chairs. Clean, comfortable. He pocketed the key and returned to his car.

Philip was a true believer. He’d come to this over a rough and rocky road of self-doubt and sacrifice. But now he believed everything happened for a reason. There was some great, overall plan at work. Life rarely surprised him these days. When it did, it was only momentary. A question of ‘oh’, and then it was gone. Just another example of the mysteries of God’s plan.

He drove back into town and stopped at a deli to buy a picnic lunch, then he was back in the car again and heading south and then west into Manitou Springs and the area known as The Garden of The Gods. He parked and then walked, his lunch and a rug in a battered canvas backpack which hung heavy against his spine.

City living, he enjoyed. The people, the pace of life, it kept his energy levels high. There was always something to do, some chore to be done, some new challenge to be met. Yet, here, Philip discovered the clean, crisp fresh air which city living robbed him of experiencing. The air was tangy with the scent of pine, fresh with the smell of snow. The sheer, thrusting red of the rocks, the blue of the sky, the vast open space and the profound silence, everything reached into his heart and soul and struck a deep, vibrating chord.

Men built cathedrals of stone with huge, towering spires. They decorated them in golds and blues, fitted them with magnificent stained glass windows. All to the glory of God.

And here .. nature did the exact same thing. It had taken millennia, but it had been done with no real effort. It had achieved the same result just by being itself. Philip, staring around with astonished eyes, felt the same reverence which he felt in any church. Perhaps even more. If men built cathedrals to the glory of God, God had created this for men. Philip felt humbled but not insignificant. He was grateful to be alive and to have seen this, shared in this. In some way, being here validated his existence.

He spread his rug on the ground and sat down, hunched into his coat against the cold sharpness of the air. The view was spectacular. It caught at his throat. There is a reason for everything, he was sure of it. If he’d ever doubted that, seeing this convinced him it was true.

God worked in mysterious ways, beyond the ability of mortal men to understand. Maybe we shouldn’t try, Philip thought. Maybe .. we should just admire His work and thank Him for being such a consummate artist.

*****

Dex knew where he wanted to go. He’d discovered the place by accident around eighteen months before. If any place on the planet could calm his churning anger, it was there. He strode up the path, breaking into a run from time to time such was his agitation, blind to the beauty all around him. He was desperate to get to ‘his place’. And, when he did finally hurry around the bend in the trail, he saw someone had gotten there first. His head felt like it was on the final countdown to a massive explosion.

The man glanced round, smiled briefly. “Good morning to you.”

Dex tried to respond. His mouth worked, his lips tried to form the response, but his throat had locked tight.

The man angled his head slightly. “I’m Philip Callahan.”

All Dex could do was look away.

The man frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Do I look like I’m all right?”

The words erupted from the pit of his stomach. Dex felt sick. The guy was a total stranger, had merely asked a concerned question and Dex had snarled into an attack. He waited for the man to pack up hurriedly and leave. But he didn’t.

“My rug’s big enough for two, if you want to share,” he offered. “I’m only in the area for a week or so. Visiting, from Boston. I wanted to see this for myself. I’m certain God speaks to us in places like this, if your heart’s open enough to listen.”

Oh, great, Dex inwardly sighed. The guy’s a religious nut. How much worse can this day get ..?

The guy was studying him. “Is your heart open enough?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Dex demanded.

“You look angry. You sound angry. More than just because I’m in your special place. I can move, if you want. Or I can listen to you.”

Dex hesitated.

The man gazed ahead, his arms looped loosely around his knees. “I know I’m a Catholic priest and listening is a large part of my vocation but I’m not here for anyone’s confession. I’m a tourist this week. I just know that, sometimes, talking things over with a total stranger can help get a life back on track. Besides, I believe everything happens for a reason, even the bad things. Me being here in your special place .. there’s a reason.”

Dex took a step forward. “William Dexter. People call me Dex.”

“Sit down, Dex. Share the view with me. Let God work His magic.”

Dex sat down. “You really believe that? Everything happens for a reason, even the bad things?”

“I do,” Philip said. “When my brother was murdered, I doubted my faith. My brother was a good man, a good husband and father, so how could God have let him die like that? I still don’t know why. Maybe I’m not meant to know why. Maybe I should just accept it. One more soul in God’s heaven, one more light to lead the way in the darkness. Why are you so angry?”

“My cat. The family’s pet cat. Mitzi. She was … ” Dex paused, overcoming the knot which had tightened in his throat. “Some sick bastard killed her. Not a hit an’ run, it wasn’t like that. We could’ve coped with that. She was .. tortured. Burned. Ripped open. Left on the back doorstep for us to find this morning. Just under two weeks ago, some person, probably the same one, poured bleach into my fish tank. Killed them all. And Snowbird, the canary, had its head pulled clean off its body. Now Mitzi. How are those things meant to happen, Father? Explain it to me. How am I just supposed to accept it?”

Philip was silent for a moment. “I don’t think you are meant to accept it, Dex,” he then replied. “It happened for a reason, it’s true. Maybe that reason is for you to catch whoever’s responsible and so prevent other creatures dying in agony.”

Dex slowly nodded. “And how do I do that? Lay in wait? Set a trap?”

“Maybe that’s why I’m here,” Philip responded. “We met for a reason, I’m sure of it.”

Dex pulled his billfold from his pocket and removed the Polaroid photo. “This is what they did to her. I’ve tried the military police. They came to the house, looked it over after Snowbird was killed. They drew a blank. No signs of forced entry. Should I go to the cops? Would they investigate something like this, or just put it down to a grudge? Would they wait until some damage is done to my property? Buildings seem to be more important than animals. Or maybe .. I have to wait till my wife’s a target or my two boys. Then they’d have to do something.”

Philip had taken the Polaroid and was staring at it. Everything did happen for a reason but the reason for this was particularly obscure. It was difficult to reconcile. However, it was very easy to recognize.

Dex was silent, gazing over the view, and feeling his anger at last unravel. Whether it was down to this place, or God, or just because he’d finally been able to talk about it, he didn’t know.

“I don’t think the police can do anything constructive about finding this killer,” Philip replied at last. “I think the reason I was here when you arrived is because you need me.” He looked round. “I’ll make a phone call, Dex. I have friends who can help you. I believe you’re going to need them.”

Continue to Chapter 2