The Legend of Bastien - Chapter 19 – The Town That Didn’t Exist – Part 1 of 2

 

The Legend of Bastien

By Karen Singer

 

Chapter 19 – The Town That Didn’t Exist – Part 1 of 2

 

Hugh Pomeroy hung up the phone.  He couldn’t believe what Fred Tucker had just told him.  All the Bastien’s had been murdered?  The deputies too?  No.  It was just too hard to believe.  And what could Chrissy Moore have to do with it?

Instead of phoning anyone, he told his wife he had to go out and check on something.  Then he drove straight to the sheriff’s office.  When he went inside, Fred Tucker was nowhere to be found, but the sheriff and Deputy Hank were definitely there, and both of them were definitely dead.  It was just too difficult to believe, but he was staring down at the two dead bodies himself.

He drove home and finally told his wife what Fred had said and what he had seen.  But Fred had asked him to call some others to let them know.  With his wife at his side, he picked up the phone and called Elijah Shultz.  The town undertaker.  “Elijah,” he said once the undertaker had answered.  “Hugh Pomeroy here.  Listen, I can’t believe it myself, but according to Fred Tucker, every member of the Bastien family is now dead, and so are all the deputies.”

“They’re what?” Elijah asked, not believing it.

“According to Fred, they’re all dead.  And Elijah, listen.  I just drove out to the sheriff’s office and saw him and Deputy Hank both lying dead on the floor.  And trust me, they were definitely dead!”

“Dead,” Elijah repeated.  “Okay.  That’s what I’m here for.”

“Elijah, wait!” Pomeroy said quickly as he thought of something.  According to all those cop shows I’ve seen on TV, I don’t think you’re supposed to touch a crime scene.”

“I’m the undertaker here,” Elijah replied.  “If not me, then who?”

“Fred Tucker is on his way out of Bastien right now to meet with some men from the state police.”

“The state police!  Well, that will be a first.”

“Yes!  I don’t remember any outside police ever being here before.”

“I don’t know of anyone other than some TV and internet installers ever coming into Bastien before.”

“I’m sure there haven’t been many outsiders at all.”

“Okay.  Thanks,” Elijah said.  “I’m going to take a look, but I won’t touch anything…for now.”

“Good.  I need to start calling a few others to let them know.  I don’t know yet exactly who is really dead, but I do know for a fact that the sheriff is one of them.”

“Okay,” Elijah told him.  “Why don’t you hold off on calling anyone else.  Let me check around a bit and get back to you.  You wouldn’t want to give out any false information.  Especially for something like this.”

“Yeah.  Good idea!  Thanks.”  Hugh Pomeroy hung up.  He had always trusted Elijah.  Everyone in town had trusted him and his entire family.  Next to the Bastiens, for some reason, the entire town trusted the undertaker family.

Elijah went back to his wife in the living room.

“Did someone die?” she asked.

“Yes.  The sheriff for one.  One of the deputies too.”

His wife quickly put her book aside.  “The sheriff!”

“And maybe more.  That was Pomeroy.  According to what Fred Tucker told him, the entire Bastien family is dead.  All the deputies too.”

“Elijah!  This may be what we’ve been waiting for since…forever!”

“Five generations we’ve been planning for this…if it’s true.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Find out for sure.  I’ll let you know when I can.  And evidently, Fred Tucker is on his way right now to try to contact the state police.”

Grace Shultz could only stare in disbelief.

Elijah first drove to the sheriff’s office.  Just as Pomeroy had said, both the sheriff and Deputy Hank were dead.  Curious now, he headed for the judge’s house.  Both the judge and Olivia were dead.  Hopeful now, he drove directly to the sheriff’s house.  He found Miranda dead in the doorway, and Alicia and Billy Bastien not far away.  Every Bastien in town.  Just like Fred Tucker had told Pomeroy.  He didn’t bother checking on the deputies, he drove home instead.  Inside, his wife and son were waiting anxiously for him.

“It’s happened,” he told them.  “As hard as it is to believe, every Bastien is dead.  Without a doubt.”

“What the family has been planning for since this town was founded,” Grace said.

Elijah nodded.  He picked up the phone and called Pomeroy.  “It’s true,” he told the school principal.  “Every Bastien is dead.  I didn’t bother checking on the deputies.  They hardly matter in the scheme of things.”

“Thanks,” Pomeroy told him.  “My wife and I put together a list.  We’re going to start calling around now.”

 

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Fred pulled his dry goods van into the parking lot of the Mason, Wisconsin post office.  He noticed the police car was already there.  He had been worried they wouldn’t show up.  As soon as he parked, he got out of his van as two policemen got out of their car. 

“Mr. Tucker?” one of them asked.

“That’s me,” Fred told them.

“I’m Officer McNally and this is Officer Clemson,” one of the state policemen told him.

“Thanks for coming.  We appreciate it,” Fred replied.

“Mr. Tucker,” McNally said.  “None of us have ever heard of Bastien.  No such place is recorded anywhere.  How can there be that many murders, especially what you reported as the entire police department, if no such place exists?”

“Damn it!  Bastien does exist.  If it doesn’t, then arrest me.  Arrest all of us in Bastien for all I care.  Just follow me and I’ll lead you right to it.  Oh, but just before we get there, there’s an old wooden bridge we’ve got to cross.  Go slow and easy over it.  It’s the only way in and out of the area.  And you’ll find the first body right there on the other side of it.  One of the town deputies.”

“We’ll follow you,” the officer told him.  “And it better lead to somewhere.  And there better be some kind of damn good reason for you calling us out like this.”

“Just follow me, damn it!” Fred told them.  He ran back to the van and got in.  A minute later, he was back on the road, leading the state troopers back toward Bastien.

The drive was far enough that McNally was getting ready to pull the van over and arrest the driver for dragging them out under false pretenses, when he saw the van pull off the highway onto a dirt road.  He followed, now moving much slower.  The drive continued along the dirt road for a very long way.  Finally, the van stopped, then started moving slowly again as it went across what looked to be a very ancient wooden bridge.  Both McNally and Clemson were surprised.  They were more surprised when the van from Bastien had to make its way off the road to go around a pickup truck parked, blocking the road on the other side of the bridge.  The van stopped there, turned in such a way so that the headlights were aimed toward the pickup truck.  They saw Fred get out.  McNally and Clemson got out of their vehicle too.

Fred pointed at the body lying in the road.  “That’s Deputy Thomas,” Fred told them.

McNally had already noticed the body and was concerned now.  He and his partner went over and saw the body with the bullet hole right through his head.  “Shit!” McNally said.  He looked up at Fred.  “There’s really a town called Bastien?”

“About another mile down this road,” Fred told him.

“And there’s really more murders?”

“Trust me,” Fred replied.  “I saw the sheriff and another deputy personally.”

Clemson ran to the car and tried to radio for help, but they were too far away to get through.  He tried his cellphone but there was no service.  “I can’t reach anyone!” he complained.  “How the hell do you call out of here?”

“Landline only,” Fred told him.  “And there’s only a couple of phones in the entire town with privileges to call out of Bastien.”

“What do you mean, with privileges?”

“They don’t let us call out unless it’s for a good reason, and all calls get monitored.”

“For what?”

“That’s going to take a while to explain.  Do you want to continue into town?”

“Yes!” McNally replied.  “If for no other reason than to get to a working telephone.”

“What about the shooter?” Clemson asked.  “What happened to him?”

“He’s home.  With his mother.  He’s fine.”

“With his mother?” McNally said, surprised.  “Are you saying a kid did this?”

“Yes.  Chris Moore.”

“How about the gun he used?”

“I believe he’s still got it.  I stopped in there before I left town, and I think he had a death grip on the thing.”

“So he could still shoot someone else.  He’s still dangerous.”

“No.  Trust me, this is all over.  And I think he was out of bullets.  He kept trying to kill himself with it, but every time he pulled the trigger, nothing happened.  Believe me, he’s pretty upset about it.”

The two state policemen looked at each other.  “Let’s secure the shooter first,” McNally decided.  “Then we’ll find a phone to call in reinforcements…if we need them.  It still doesn’t sound likely.