-A Grave Truth-
David had sat -his eyes sore with strain- at his desktop, researching FBI Agent Blake O'Neal. Hours had past and page after page were scanned by his eyes, yet nothing was there to be found. Agent O'Neal wasn't in any of the databases, although David didn't have access to the complete list of active FBI personnel, still his search left him quite empty handed.
Nevertheless, -professional life aside- he couldn't find anything else on the guy. No birth certificate, family of any kind, not even a social media profile. It's as if he didn't even exist, which -in David's experience- could only mean two things. Either Agent O'Neal possessed enough Top Secret clearance in his field that every single trace of his identity had been thoroughly erased, or Agent O'Neal wasn't and FBI agent and was lying about everything.
Both circumstances were equally possible, and both scared David slightly. In either case, why was this O'Neal character interested in the accidental death of his daughter and her friends? David refused to believe the man's story about 'just passing through' the scene of the accident. He was there for a reason, but what reason? David suddenly remembered the tattoo that was on Agent O'Neal's wrist...
JOB 21:32
... and decided that he'd look in to the significance of that. He did a quick search on his browser and pulled up one of the results, a website on The Holy Bible. The tattoo pretained to the Book of Job -David assumed before even entering the search- and the passage 21:32. He looked up the specific passage and read it aloud.
"Yet shall he be brought to the grave, and over the heap watch be kept." He whispered to himself. No sooner than he uttered the words, his cell phone rang.
"David?" The man on the other end of the line questioned.
"Agent O'Neal. What a pleasant surprise. I was just..." David began before being interrupted.
"Wouldn't it benefit you more if you were looking in to the recent and obscure death of your daughter, than trying to dig up dirt on me Mr. Constantine? I mean, we're on the same side here." Agent O'Neal asked.
"Are we?" David asked, quickly standing from his desk chair and nervously glancing around the room. Agent O'Neal had no doubt bugged his home, David just needed to find out where the device was hidden. "Tell me, if we're on the same side, what are you really up to?"
"Classified, as I'm quite sure you expected as an answer."
"Cut the bullshit O'Neal. It doesn't take a private eye to figure out that you're hiding something. Out with it!"
"Well, since you're the private eye you tell me." Agent O'Neal offered. David let out a soft sigh as he tried gathering his thoughts and keep his temper low.
"I know it has something to do with that tattoo on your wrist."
"Huh?" The agent questioned, almost as if David had uttered something Agent O'Neal wasn't expecting in the slightest. Perhaps this man wasn't as good as he had led on, and perhaps David had him by the balls.
"The tattoo on your left wrist, JOB 21:32? Now, I'm sure you're going to tell me that that's some sort of family motto or some other made up shit that isn't true? I'm not a fool Agent O'Neal and am getting sick and fucking tired of being treated as such. So, when you're ready to shed what light you hold on the death of my daughter, I'll be expecting your call. Until then, I shall continue to dig up any dirt on you I see fit to bury my shovel in, are we clear?" David blurted out. The line fell silent for a moment before Agent O'Neal spoke.
"You done, boy?"
"I just need answers."
"Everybody needs answers." Agent O'Neal said with a slight chuckle, before a fit of coughing. He cleared his throat and continued. "What makes you think I have the answers you're looking for?"
"I don't know. I can just sense that something with her death isn't right, and as her father I have to do my best to find out what that something is."
"And what if there is nothing? What if her death was nothing more than just a freak accident, and that I did happen by the scene of the accident by chance? When all is said and done, could you accept that reality?"
"Yes." David answered without hesitation. Again the line fell silent for a moment before Agent O'Neal spoke.
"You're sure?" He asked.
"Yes." David repeated. "If after thorough investigation this turns out to be nothing more than a tragic accident, I will accept it."
"Good. That's what I wanted to hear. Look, if you knew the obscure reality you and your family have stumbled upon, the odds of your not committing suicide would be far less than you'd ever have imagined." O'Neal began. David heard some commotion on the other end of the line -almost as if Agent O'Neal was gathering some items and fumbling with them in his hands- before he continued. "There's some stomach turning things that happen in this world of our, things that common folk should never know about."
"What are you talking about, some X-files mumbo jumbo? Look, just because you're an FBI agent..."
"It's deeper than that, Mr. Constantine." Agent O'Neal began. David could hear him striking a lighter in the background, assumingly lighting up a cigarette. "Meet me at the coffee house on Range Line Road in an hour and I'll shed upon you some of that light I apparently hold on what really happened to your daughter." He offered.
These words plucked at a heart string David had been clutching to since arriving at the scene of his daughter's accident. He thought he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, but had to voice the words aloud.
"Is my daughter really dead?"
"No." Agent O'Neal answered flatly.
"Then, she's alive?" David asked.
"No."
YOU ARE READING
Unexpectedly Undead
Paranormal"Watch out!" She screamed as the massive wrecking ball collided with the car's passenger side door. The sickly sound of twisting metal and breaking bones filled Olivia's ears as Ramona was thrown to the driver's side due to the impact. She held on t...
