After a long deserved rest from the horror of Halloween our team of paranormal investigators are ready to embark on a journey to Las Vegas, Nevada to attend PARA-CON aka The Paranormal Investigators Conference. Although there are plenty of frauds and nuts at the convention there are always enough of the real supernatural deal for us to warrant the trip. In addition we garner a nice amount of new business from our Mystic Investigations booth. When we leave the state together we usually fly commercially or rent a private jet if a wealthy client is paying for it. For this years PARA-CON we decided to try something different. We’re all loading into the Mystic RV for a good old fashioned road trip through Utah and Nevada. We’ll be leaving Woodland Springs, Colorado and driving on to US Route 40 all the way to Utah and then on to Interstate 15 all the way to Las Vegas.
It was a sunny and unseasonably warm Saturday morning in November when me and Rebecca revved up the RV and picked up most of the members of the Mystic team. Father Tom Davis, who helps us on a freelance basis, opted out since he doesn’t really go into areas that lie beyond the religious. My brother Michael Remington is more or less a silent partner in Mystic Investigations and is off traveling through time quite a bit. I believe he’s currently in ancient Egypt so he won’t be joining us. Our resident Vampire Drake Alexander will be safe so as long as he stays away from any sunlight coming in the windows but he is looking forward to experiencing a real group road trip. We planned to take turns driving and I started off the trip down the smooth black road heading out of the hidden valley where nestled in the Rockies where Woodland Springs is located. Soon we were on US Route 40 which would take us through many remote rural areas and small towns as we made our way to Utah. Driving there would take 14 hours so we expect to arrive in Las Vegas by 9 PM Saturday night so we can check in to our hotel.
The trip was pretty much uneventful other than the majestic Rockies and breathtaking late autumn landscape. Things however got interesting when we got to a small town off Interstate 15 in Southwestern Utah near the Dixie National Forest called Pangea. We pulled the RV into a place called Al’s Diner at about 3 PM to eat a late lunch. We all filed into a booth and table next to it. Drake naturally stayed in the RV to avoid the sun and he doesn’t need to eat food anyway. A cute twenty something waitress walked toward us with some menus but then some large thug slapped her rear end and said,”Hey honey where yah going! Don’t leave us baby!” She ignored them with a scowl on her face and passed out the menus to us. Most of us knew what we already wanted and began ordering. The six foot plus brown haired baseball cap wearing thug and three other mean looking guys sitting together at the counter laughed. She had gotten through three of us giving her our food selections when the guy walks over and grabs her arm. He then says,”Dammit woman I want you back at the counter now!” Hunter Jackson, the Ex-Navy Seal, and largest member of our team stood up next to the man and grabbed his arm while saying,”Why don’t you get your damn hands off the lady!” Hunter was about the same size as the 6′ 4″ tall heavy set man and he didn’t seem intimidated. He replied,”Get your damn hands off me boy!” He then pushed Hunter in the chest as the two other large men approached with menacing looks on their faces. The waitress tried to act like everything was okay but from the moment we walked into the place she seemed very nervous. Hunter pushed the man back even harder and he fell on to the shiny white tile floor as his buddies grabbed Hunter. I then pulled one off him and punched him in the stomach. Naturally as usual my girlfriend Rebecca was cheering me on,”Yeah kick his ass Xavier!” He was 4 inches taller than me with a heavier build but I hold a black belt in Kung Fu. Hunter elbowed the other guy in the ribs and then flipped him over his shoulder on to the floor. The thug he had dropped to the floor first sprung up and clocked Hunter square in the jaw. Hunter repaid the blow in kind. As Hunter engaged in a full on brawl with the chief thug the other man got off the floor and came up behind me as I fought my large opponent. Rob, our resident ghost buster attempted to stop him but was punched in the stomach and fell to the floor. Luckily bionic Zack, our technology expert, had just exited the rest room and shoved the bully to the ground. He looked up and was obviously angry that a teenager had forced him to the ground. He sprung up and took a swing at Zack’s face but he easily blocked it with his bionic arm and he then punched the man in the face with his bionic right hand. The blow knocked the man back against the lunch counter. He then went behind the counter and grabbed a baseball bat while saying,”Now you’re going to get it you little bastard!” Julia suddenly entered the fray by using her telekinesis to knock the bat from the mans hand. Zack then kicked him the groin and he fell to the ground like a sack of rotten potatoes. Me and Hunter had both of our opponents on the ground when all the sudden a rifle blast bellowed throughout the diner and plaster fell from the ceiling as people screamed.
It was Al, the owner of the Diner. He said he didn’t want any trouble and told us to leave. The three men laughed and it was apparent that even with his rifle he was afraid of them for some reason. He didn’t seem to care that they started the fight. Just then Drake runs in literally smoking from all areas of his body. He yelled,”Is everything alright in here?” Everyone turned to stare at him in quiet amazement as the man who started the fight exclaimed,”What in the hell is wrong with you boy?” Drake then shrugged his shoulders and answered,”Too much sun.” We all left but not before the chief thug said,”This ain’t over pal! Nobody messes with us. This is our town!” We just ignored him and left thinking he was just some blow hard big shot full of hot air. Back in the RV it smelled like baked chicken as the white smoke flowing from Drakes body began to subside. His light red skin quickly returned to it’s normal fair white color. All of us except Drake were starving so we drove down the road to find another place to eat. We found a restaurant and as soon as we enter we’re told that we’re not welcome there. We finally said to hell with it and headed out of the town. We get less than a mile down the road and a police cruiser pulls us over. The short chubby officer, who reminded me of Yosemite Sam, rather rudely tells us to leave town but refuses to tell us why we’re legally bound to do so. Or rather he yelled,”Because I said so you damn bastard! I have power boy!” I never heard a law enforcement official talk like that and paused for a second in disbelief. Then I told him we were leaving anyway and we continued down the road. The officer didn’t follow us but we assumed we were out of the town when we saw a sign at the entrance of a dirt road that said,”Sanderson’s Farm Fresh Café”.
It was a café with a large farm in back of it. There were a lot of shade creating trees around so Drake came inside with us. Everyone was beyond friendly and we finally got to fill our grumbling stomachs. When we asked the people in there about what happened to us the owner of the farm, Zeke Sanderson, sat at our table and told us about how a millionaire named Alan Billings bought off the town including the police. It was apparent he threatened local businesses to pay him “protection” money but there was also something else sinister going on. Billings brought illegal gambling, drugs, and prostitution to the once innocent community. Although there were rumors that Billings had other plans for the town as well. There wasn’t any tangible proof but everyone in town was scared of him and his goons which included the local police. The farmer said he’s the only one who refused to pay and that he and his workers had been threatened or beat up. Buildings and property on his farm had been vandalized. In fact one of his barns had been burned down recently which scared the rest of his workers away. His pleas to the County Sheriff and the State were mysteriously ignored and he felt all alone with nowhere to turn for help.
Just then two police officers kicked the door open and one of them said,”I thought I told you bastards to leave town!” It was little I have power Yosemite Sam himself. I almost laughed out loud because he looked like such a joke. Drake finally had enough of all this bullying and he walked over and said,”Do you have a warrant or court order of some type.” Yosemite loudly said no and grabbed Drakes arm and said we were all under arrest. Drake then grabbed his hand and squeezed it. As the bone crunching could be heard clear across the room, a steely eyed Drake said,”We’ll leave this town when we’re damn good and ready you son of a bitch!” The little officer was forced to his knees as he screamed like a baby. The other normal sized officer yelled,”Let him go you piece of crap!” while pulling out a taser and shooting it at Drake. He fired it continuously but it had no effect on him. Drake just laughed and said,”Your little toy gun amuses me boy!” He then picked the officer up off the ground with his other hand and threw him out the door. He then tossed little officer Yosemite our after him as if he was a piece of trash. Surprisingly they didn’t draw their guns but instead got into their police car and sped away leaving a cloud of dust in their wake…To Be Continued.
I’m recording the entire tale of our adventure in e-book form. Reply to this post if you’re interested in reading the rest of our story.