Excerpt: Jack Urban

Jack rifled through the urban legends that he had filed away in his head. He couldn’t think of many that would fit this scenario, unless it was something completely out of the box. He highly doubted that this would be a case of the babysitter getting a phone call, or the clown doll in the children’s room. That one always gave Jack the shivers. He hated clowns.

It was 11:30 now. Jack shook his head. He needed to think, and he needed to think quickly. Three agents passed by his patch of shrubbery, but none of them were looking for him. They were looking for people. They were looking for someone that stood out. If they found nothing, they would chalk it up to Jack being a nutcase. Part of him wondered if that was the game the Hookman was playing. Was he trying to cause a false alarm so that the FBI would distrust him even more, or was there something even more sinister at play? Jack realized quickly that having no one to voice these questions to would leave him even more frustrated than ever if he and the FBI didn’t make amends after this case.

11:45. Still nothing was happening, but Jack’s head was hurting him more than ever. He shook his head, though he knew for a fact that wouldn’t clear it. Now he was getting worried. If he hadn’t found anything, and the FBI hadn’t found anything, then chances were that they had missed something. Jack watched as his watch crept with excruciating slowness toward 11:59.

Then, with a shocking suddenness, it was midnight. The FBI agents all froze in place when the time was called out. The seconds slowly trickled past. Jack had to remind himself to breathe as he waited for the second hand to wrap its way around the face of his watch.

Then, the clock his 12:01, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone but Jack. The feeling was still there. It was still going to happen. Somehow, somewhere in the woods, it was still going to happen. He’d always assumed it was going to be at midnight because of the symbolism, but he had no idea for sure when it was going to happen. Now he knew for a fact it was going to happen sometime in the next few minutes, but he still had no idea when or where.

Jack stumbled off into the woods, far away from any agents and the road. There had been no traffic, and he was still sure there were no campers or lovers in the woods. Surely, if there were, they would have quickly departed thanks to the sheer amount of company that had found its way into the woods in the past few hours. It definitely wasn’t the place to be caught if you had a curfew or wanted privacy. Then Jack heard it. It was a low noise at first. There was a clicking noise, and a slow rumble. He heard it coming, and it all clicked into place.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered. “The train.”

He sprinted into the midst of the FBI with a total disregard for his own personal situation, and the fact that, by running from them yesterday, he was one of the prime suspects. “You have to listen to me! All of you! There’s a train coming, and it’s the Hookman’s target! We have literally seconds left! There’s a penny somewhere on these tracks, and if we don’t find it, chances are that if it wrecks…” he spared a glance at Kelly, “…then we’re all dead, too.”