Butch

"Hold on there, Butch."

We never found him; disappeared to God knows where. He wasn't in his end of the world bunker. There was nothing there, bunks, self-defense items, food, boze; all of it gone, just like Butch. It wasn't like Butch to go off like this, even off his meds. Butch was a survivor.

"Come back home, Butch."

We never stopped looking. As far north as Texas Valley and as far south as Anchor Mountain; west to the Pine River Military Reserve and east to Banker's Lake. We never stopped looking and never found a thing. Butch Parkman was as good as dead.

"I'll never stop looking for him. He was-- is-- my friend."

Sheriff Brinker of Texas Valley was the one who had called. They'd found Butch.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Butch told the Pine River Dispatch's Editor, Publisher and only employee Alan Reece.

"Just went on a sabbatical is all."

"Where did you go?"

Sheriff Brinker led the reporter away. He turned to Butch. Brinker gave him the 'I'm not taking your crap' look. Butch only smiled. Apparently he'd done well off his meds. He was smiling now.

"Where did you go, Butch. Be honest."

"Just took a little R and R is all Garth. You could probably use a vacation, too." Butch smiled again. It was hard to tell if his meds had kicked in. "I know; you're worried I was off my meds. I might have gone loopy and killed someone. But nope, I didn't. Just a vacation, to clear my head," Butch said, tapping his forefinger to temple. "When can I get home? I know, you've got to look out after me and all-"

"Tell me where you've been Butch."

Butch looked somewhat surprised by Garth's tone. It was Sheriff Garth Brinker who'd actullay been influential in his own defense. Part of it was they'd been friends since they were kneehigh to grasshoppers. Another part was Garth was married to Agnes, Butch's sister.

"Been around Anchor Mountain, looking for ghosts, Butch, honest."

Garth sighed.

"Ghosts and demons, I've got the gear to prove it."

In Garth's search and catalogue of Butch's items from his truck found ghost hunting equipment. He wanted to believe Butch, but couldn't. He'd seen 'ghosts' before, figuring Butch's to be more of the same.

"I'm finding it hard to believe you, Butch."

Butch frowned at Garth's thought. "You just have too. I've done nothing illegal, I'll stay as long as you need, just so you believe."

Garth began to laugh. Butch joined in, but stopped as quickly as Garth had. Butch looked confusedly to the sheriff.

"What's wrong Garth?"

"You want to know what's wrong?! Butch Parkman had his voice box out because he was a smoker! I want to know: WHO AND WHAT ARE YOU?!" Garth screamed.

Butch, or the thing that called itself Butch, snickered at Garth's question. "I'm a ghost, Garth. You obviously don't know me," he smiled, lighting up a cigarette. "You don't know me," he whispered. "You don't know what I am, and I don't know you, Garth."

"Are you an angel or a demon?!" Garth said, lifting Butch out of his chair by the shirt.

He puffed on the cigarette, staring down Garth all the while. "There's many things out there, Garth. I could be any one of them," still whispering, as if Alan were still in the room.

"Alan," Garth whispered. "What did you do to him?"

Butch did not respond.

"What did you say?!"

Butch smiled now. It was a devilish smile. Garth pulled his weapon. "Don't do it, for Agnes' sake."

"But you're not real!!"

"If I'm not real, then surely you must. Between the kooks at Pine and spooks at the Mountain, you've got to shoot!"

Garth couldn't bring himself to shoot. He lowered the weapon, looking intently on Butch. "What would you or Butch have me say to Agnes? That our brother is dead?! I can't say that... I can't..."

***

Alan Reece is typing away at his keyboard. What a world. The phone call from Garth Brinker had put him off kilter. He was new to the area, buying up a newspaper that had turned into a twice-weekly broadside at the community market. He expected to get some pranks more often than not. But not like the prank Brinker pulled.

"You know what Brinker?!" Alan yells into the receiver.

"What's that, Alan?"

"Fuck you!"

"Just call up Aggie-" Click.

Alan shivered. Being new to the area was tough, getting to know the readership and their stories. Agnes Brinker had confirmed her husband's story. Butch was missing yet; the Butch Brinker held in custody hauled off to Pine for testing. Alan stopped his typing, looking into Butch's home. Aliens and ghosts ruled Butch's world and Alan had learned that they just might rule his world as well.

--John E. Lansing
--A work in progress...