Six Bullets to Hell

October 13th, 2022:

Colorado Springs Airport:

With every bounce of the plane’s tires as we were landing, my spine felt them. Michael, my older brother, had asked me to fly into Colorado Springs instead of Denver, as I normally did. He had said that it was closer to Salida.

Since it was a six-hour flight, I looked up the distance between Colorado Springs and Salida on Google Maps. Hm, two hours sounded better than a four-hour drive from Denver.

“Thank you, folks, for choosing Southwest Airlines for your flight today,” the captain’s voice boomed over the speakers. “I hope you all enjoyed your flight. Thank you again for choosing Southwest Airlines.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Dana, my friend, muttered as if the captain could hear her. “Now, I’m ready to stretch my legs.”

I couldn’t agree with her more about stretching out the legs. Six hours seemed like an eternity, especially after receiving the news yesterday. My fingers twitched against my thigh as I waited. People were exiting in a single-file line. Finally, a gentleman paused to let us out.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, picking up my carry-on bag.

“No problem, miss. First time to Colorado?”

“No, sir, I have family here.”

We joined the line exiting the plane. The stewardess smiled as we passed by her. As we walked down the jetway, I could hear the business of the airport. It was only Thursday, but the airport sounded crowded.

“Oh, hell,” I muttered as I entered the waiting area and saw the crowd of tourists milling around. “How the hell am I going to find Michael in this crowd?”

From my point of view, all I could see was the backs of people walking around. It was a moving wall of people wearing high-tech fleece and backpacks.

“See anything, Belle? Or do you need stilts to see over the people?”

She grinned at me as I turned to look at her. “Hey, not my fault that I’m short. I get it from my dad.”

Dana wasn’t just my best friend; she was my literary agent. The only one who could talk me off the ledge when a manuscript went to hell in a hand basket. As we stood there, she clutched her laptop bag tightly as if someone was going to snatch it and run off.

“Just backpacks and beanies,” I muttered, standing on my tiptoes.

From my back pocket, I heard the opening riff of Three Doors Down’s “Kryptonite”. I didn’t have to look to see who was messaging me.

Where are you at, sis? I’m over by an oversized window. I’d wave, but I’m currently stuck behind a family of six and a golden retriever.

I snorted a laugh, making Dana look over at me.

“That was Michael texting me. He’s by a window, but he didn’t say exactly where,” I told her.

“I guess we stay here to wait for him.”

“Yup, let me tell him where we are.”

I looked around to see which gate we had disembarked at.

We’re at gate four. It looks like we’re near the baggage claim area.

It was almost five o’clock, or at least I think it is. Checking my phone, I found that it had automatically changed the time zone. As we stood there, the aroma of fresh French fries frying tickled my nose. Maybe on the way to Salida, I could convince Michael to stop somewhere to get a quick bite to eat.

Above the noise of the airport, I could hear my name being called out. “Belle!” I looked around and saw Michael weaving his way through the sea of tourists. Wow, he didn’t look forty-two at the moment. Stress must have aged him in the past few days. He looked like he had been chewed up and spit out by a landslide.

“Hey, bro,” I said as we embraced as if we hadn’t seen each other in forever. “Any word about Dad?”

“None, sis. Maybe with you being here, the sheriff will do something instead of sitting around.”

He noticed Dana next to me and gave her a tired, but appreciative smile.

“It’s no problem, Michael,” she told him as we started to make our way to the baggage claim area.

“Which one is your bag, sis?” Michael asked me as the bags slowly spun around.

“The purple one,” I said as I saw mine and Dana’s bags come into view.

As he picked up my bag, he grunted, “Dear lord, what the hell do you have in here? A body?”

I laughed as I replied, “Shush, you ain’t supposed to know that.” He shook his head, making me laugh harder. “Naw, I didn’t know how long we were going to be here. Not to mention, I didn’t know what the weather was going to be exactly. From what I could tell, the weather out here is just as much of a roller coaster as Virginia.”

“Well, the sheriff ain’t doing shit, so no telling how long y’all will be here. He keeps telling me that maybe our Dad wanted a few days to himself.”

As we stepped outside, I saw the Rocky Mountains bathed in a bruised purplish haze as the sun was slowly sinking down. It reminded me of what I usually write in my horror novels before a body is discovered.

“Bro, if the sheriff ain’t doing anything about Dad, what makes you think I can get him to do something?”

Michael stopped and turned to me.

“I hate to play this card, sis, but it’s Dad. You’re the famous writer. That’s why I think you would be able to get the sheriff to start looking for Dad.”

“I may be the famous writer, but I would think that you would have more sway over the sheriff because you live and work there.”

He laughed a sarcastic laugh as he opened my door for me.

“I don’t know if the sheriff has a personal problem with Dad, or if he’s just being lazy. Dad’s been missing since Monday afternoon. It’s been way over twenty-four hours.”

A soft ‘static’ noise started to hum inside my head. Something didn’t seem right with the sheriff dismissing our dad’s disappearance so easily. I knew that our dad wouldn’t just disappear without saying a word. He would have let one of us know where he was going.

# # # #

The Day Before:

October 12th:

Hayes, Virginia:

The morning air was thick and damp as I stepped outside for a coffee and cigarette break. Something was weighing heavily on my mind. It was to the point to where I couldn’t focus on my writing my latest novel.

Dana was sitting in one of the wicker chairs, lost in her thoughts that made her abandon her cup of coffee. She was staring at her tablet, probably going over a contract.

She finally broke her gaze from the tablet.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning, Belle,” she remarked as she picked up her coffee mug. “Is the haunted lighthouse story giving you trouble?”

I ran my finger around the rim of my coffee mug before taking a sip.

“The lighthouse story is going fine,” I sighed as I stared at the black mirror of my phone on the table. Her gaze followed mine. “I haven’t heard from my dad this morning. Matter of fact, it’s been a few days now.”

“Maybe he got busy with his construction business.”

Before I could agree with her, the sound of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” came blasting from my phone. It wasn’t even ten o’clock. Why was my aunt messaging me? Well, she might be up early for a doctor’s appointment for her or my Uncle Mark.

I swiped the screen to unlock my phone to read her message.

Morning, Belle sweetie. What are you up to this morning?

Taking a break from my writing. Is everything okay? You’re up early.

I noticed Dana looking at me, a light brown eyebrow raised.

“Is everything okay?” she asked me.

My aunt’s ringtone rang out again. I glanced down at my phone.

I was wondering if you had heard from your dad lately?

No, it’s been a few days since we last talked. Have you tried calling him at his office? He should be there by now.

A knot of dread was slowly forming inside as I waited for my aunt to reply. Once again, her ringtone rang out, scaring away the birds that were hopping around the front porch.

I tried his office, but no answer. The last time I talked to him was Monday. After that, it’s been quiet on his end. I don’t like this. Something is not right. I can feel it.

My hands shook as I read her message. The “Warren” intuition was kicking in for both of us. And usually, it’s never wrong.

As I sat there, thinking of how to reply to her message, the soft sounding static noise started to fill my head. I closed my eyes and saw…

My dad is sitting in some kind of coffee shop with maps and papers spread out in front of him. The bell above the door jingles and a woman walks in. She greets my dad as she walks over to his table. Her face looks familiar to me. She must be familiar to my dad as well because his eyes lit up when he saw her. Something felt wrong about this woman.

“Belle, Belle,” Dana’s voice was full of panic as she shook my shoulders. “Wake up!”

I blinked my eyes to focus and saw her sitting next to me, her sapphire blue eyes wide with concern.

“I’m sorry about that, Dana,” I told her as she sighed as she got up from where I was sitting at.

“Woman, you need to give me a warning before you slip off to vision land. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, Dana,” I apologized with a smile. “But, I don’t know when they will come to me.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw someone who is supposed to be…”

Before I could finish my sentence, the opening riff of Three Doors Down’s “Kryptonite” echoed through the morning stillness. I knew it was Michael texting me. My heart started to race as I picked up my phone.

Belle, you need to come home. Dad has disappeared.

# # # #

Present Day:

The Drive to Salida:

“Belle? Earth to Belle.”

Michael’s voice came crashing through my thoughts. I glanced over at him and shook my head.

“Sorry, bro,” I said, climbing up into his heavy-duty Ford truck.

“Do I even want to know what you were thinking?” he asked with a laugh.

Dana squeezed into the backseat, pushing blueprints and empty coffee cups to the side. I nudged a few empty ones as I climbed in.

“I was just remembering yesterday.”

“I’m sorry ladies for not cleaning out my truck before picking y’all up,” he apologized, climbing into the truck. “Buckle up. We got about a two-hour drive to Salida.”

“Hey, on the way there, could we stop somewhere to get a bite to eat?” I asked.

“Well, I know of a special place in Salida for dinner. Can you wait that long?”

“Sure, bro.”

He flashed me a smile as he put the truck into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. I fought off the jet lag to take in the scenery. There weren’t any tall buildings in Colorado Springs like in Norfolk or Virginia Beach.

“What’s bothering you, sis?” Michael asked me and I glanced over at him. “I know something is bothering you.”

I patted my hoodie pockets for my cigarettes as he rolled down my window. “Hey Dana, if you want to smoke back there, push out that little window.” He handed me a car ashtray to hand to Dana.

“Thanks,” she said, digging into her laptop bag.

“You may think I’m crazy when I say this,” I started to say and he laughed.

“Sis, our family is crazy, but continue.”

“Yesterday, I had a premonition about Dad. He was at a coffee shop, waiting for someone. When the woman came in, she looked familiar to me and to Dad as well. But, it can’t be who I think it is.”

“Who did you see, sis?”

I took a long drag off my cigarette before answering him. It was still making any sense to me.

“It was my Aunt Amelia, but my mother had told me that she died in a car accident before I was born.”

“Wait a minute, isn’t she your mom’s twin sister?” he asked me and I nodded my head.

“I know it sounds weird as hell to see someone who is supposed to be dead. The real question is, why was Dad meeting with my aunt Amelia? I did notice that his eyes lit up when he saw her, but his expression changed. Why? I don’t know. Maybe he thought it was my mother, but realized it wasn’t her.”

“Are you sure that it was your Aunt Amelia?” Dana asked me.

I knew why she asked me that question. My mother had lied to me about my dad for so many years. She had told me that he was dead. So, what’s one more lie about someone else, right?

“I’m pretty sure it was her.”

“Okay, hear me out, Belle, and don’t get snappy with me,” Dana said, leaning forward from the backseat. “What if your mother didn’t lie about your aunt? It could be someone who knew your aunt and dressed like her.”

I pushed back my long, auburn hair instead of answering Dana right away. Her point sort of made sense to me.

“Dana, this woman was the spitting image of my mother. A carbon copy. I would have seen differences if it was someone else trying to look like her.”

“Okay, so if this woman is your Aunt Amelia,” Michael piped in and I looked over at him. “What would she want with our dad?”

His question stumped me. I didn’t have the answer to that question.

“Michael, I remember Dad telling me about some land developer that wanted to buy the ranch from Dad. I just don’t remember the guy’s name.”

“Jeffery is the guy that wants Dad’s ranch,” I noticed Michael’s jaw tighten up when he mentioned the man’s name. He clutched the steering wheel to the point that his knuckles were white. “He only wants it because he puts on these concerts on Labor Day weekend.”

I bit down on my bottom lip, thinking. A thought came to me quickly. It wouldn’t exactly answer Michael’s other question.

“What if my aunt is working with Jeffery to get the ranch?”

He nodded and said, “Okay, that sort of makes sense, sis. But, what would she have to gain from helping Jeffery in getting the ranch?”

Now, I am truly stumped. I had no answers or possible answers. Yet, a scenario came into my head.

“Something just came to me,” I said, lighting another cigarette. “What if my aunt pretended to be my mother? They’re twins and our dad wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. Maybe her plan worked for a moment and Dad did think she was my mother. But, as the conversation continued, he remembers why my mother left. He starts to question her and she panics and she acts out whatever plan she had.”

“Well, it would explain why that creep has been around the ranch more.” Michael smiled and pointed to a wooden sign with two bighorn sheep on it. “Welcome home, sis.”

The town of Salida still had its magical charm. Michael merged into the turn lane at the stoplight by Loaf ‘n’ Jug. I saw a sign that said, Old West Burgers. I laughed as my stomach let out a loud, audible growl. Michael looked over at me with one eyebrow raised, and I laughed as he said, “Damn sis, when was the last time you ate?”

“Um, before we left Virginia.”

“Good god, let’s get that monster fed!”

Our laughter echoed through the dusky evening as we climbed out of the truck. I stood there for a moment, admiring the mountains that surrounded the town. My back was turned to the restaurant, but I got this feeling of being watched. When I turned around, there was no one outside. The outdoor dining area was deserted because of the biting night air. Was the chill a real chill because of the air? Or was it because it was a warning? A warning that I was walking into a mystery I had no clue about, and I had no idea how deep the mystery went.