Previously on RUNNER RAMIREZ & THE RACETRACK FROM HELL…
Runner Ramirez arrived in Pompano Beach, Florida, drawn there by his special ‘friend’. He found a massive horse track under construction, a track apparently related to organized crime. After overhearing of a death at the track, Runner heads there to investigate.
And now…
Runner Ramirez & the Racetrack from Hell
By Tyler Tarlton
CHAPTER 2
One might think that having an entity live inside you that could provide added strength and skills would be a lot of fun; it was at times, except when that entity chose to remain quiet. But we'll get to that in a moment.
I found out from a local that the racetrack construction site was about 30 minutes away by foot but just a few by car. It took a crisp $5 bill to convince him to take me. We arrived within the stated time and the man's eyes widened as I handed him the money. Mine widened at the sight before me.
To say the racetrack was large was very much an understatement. The thing was massive to an almost comical scale. I would later learn that it had seating for over 5,000 people and enough stalls to house 1,000 horses. A THOUSAND! That was just plain insane. I had never seen a track like it. The whole setup, even before I knew the details, just screamed 'front'. The Pompano Beach area was indeed growing but a track like that would be big for New York City let alone southern Florida. A race typically had 10-15 horses in it, why do you need room for 100X that? It's size alone was the first red flag.
A few other thoughts entered my mind as I looked up at the main entrance. The whole place was about 3/4 done at least and the fact they were apparently working at night meant it would be done fairly soon. If this was a front of some probable Prohibition-skirting speakeasy/money laundering operation they why was my 'friend' leading me here? We dealt in the strange and supernatural, not in common, everyday crime. Why was I here?
With that question in mind I decided to poke around a little. It was just past midnight and the place now stood deserted. I hopped the chain-link fence and walked around the area under the guard stand. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary or unsafe in any way. I was a bit surprised there were no guards present but of course an unfinished facility could not yet be used for any illicit activity except for maybe some sort of construction fraud. Evidence for that wouldn't found at the site anyway but somewhere at the construction company's headquarters.
I next crossed the track to the middle area and the big complex of horse barns and stables. I stopped and cocked my head in confusion. Something about the layout seemed a bit off. It was hard to tell for sure so I retreated back to the grandstand and climbed to its highest point. As I turned and looked down an intense shock down my spine. It continued for several seconds before regressing to a series of Morse code signals I could not translate. I would learn later that it was Latin. My friend had a habit of turning to that language when overly stimulated or excited. Unfortunately for me he never provided a translation.
There were 5 rectangular buildings that made up the complex and stretched across the entirety of the infield area. They were arranged in some sort of pattern with only their corners meeting. It matched no architectural design that I had every seen or heard of. I took out the small notebook I always carried and made a quick sketch of what I saw. Perhaps I could later determine the design at a local library.
Once my drawing was complete I pocketed the notebook and made my way back down to the ground. I checked my watch; it was close to 2 am and some rain was starting to fall. I decided to check the office area before calling it a night.
The area in question was at the other end of the grandstand, somewhere underneath as marked by a sign over a thick wood door. The door appeared very thick and was comprised of some sort of hard wood like cherry or ash. It wasn't the type of door that one would find outside the office of a horse track. It looked almost like a door you'd see on one of those old Victorian-type mansions. It was very strange.
I stepped closer to the monstrosity and shined my pen light on it. There are a few things everyone should carry...a pen light, a pocketknife, a pen/notepad, a lighter, and a paper clip. Anyway, I shone my light all around the wood and discovered something even strange then the door itself...etched into the surface were dozens of odd symbols, almost like hieroglyphics. Damndest thing I ever saw. And of course as soon as I laid eyes on them the crazy Latin Morse code started up again. And like always, without any reference or translation. I tried to ignore the shocks the best I could and reached for the door handle.
My hand didn't make it. As soon as my arm extended a hard object slammed into the back of my neck. The blow threw me forward, right into the door. Two distinct kinds of pain shot through my body in the process; the pain of my shoulder ramming into the thick wood and the intense shock that exploded down my spine. That one seemed to arise just from touching the door. Very weird.
My head was a bit foggy as I pushed myself off the door and turned. There were at least 6 men standing before me but there could've been only three amplified by some double vision. A fourth man stood back behind the others. He wore a suit and looked somewhat official. The guy in the center held a big club, the kind you'd see in a museum featuring cavemen. The other 2 (or 5) appeared unarmed. The fact they had no guns and got the drop on me made me angry.
"You're gonna regret that, " I said as I squared up.
"Well, you're in the wrong place bub," the man with the club replied. A snarled covered his face as he lurched for me.
As I may have mentioned, can't remember though, one of the benefits of being possessed, if such a thing can exist, is that the possessor can lend his host, me, a portion of his power, which believe you me is quite a lot. That strength had gotten me out of a few jams and would do so now, whether there were 3, 6, or even 9 fellas before me.
Three minutes later I found myself upside down in the ditch on the opposite side of the road from the track. The club man leaned down beside me and tapped my nose.
"We see you snoopin around here again..." he whispered. "You're a dead man."
He tapped my nose again and walked to the road. He got in a sedan with the other goons just before it peeled away. A grown escaped my mouth, I had been holding it in, and I rolled to my side. I reached up and rubbed the side of my face; I found a nasty gash and a lot of blood. Another groan arose as I stood on wobbly legs. Those guys had given it to me pretty good.
Now I know what you're thinking and yes, it's a very annoying problem. Sometimes my friend decides not to help. I'm not much of a fighter, I was a runner in the war, an actual runner, one who carried messages to and from various battalions, so if that power didn't come...well, I end up in a ditch. I've tried expressing my, um, displeasure but have you ever tried complaining to a demon? They don't care much to hear it. It didn't matter much at that time so I dusted myself off and stepped out of the ditch. I instantly dropped back to the ground. Yes, it hurt.
A pickup truck pulled out of the racetrack's gate and came to a stop. Out hopped the man in the suit I had seen watching the goons just before they jumped me. He walked around the truck to close the gate. I took advantage of the distraction and raced forward, stifling a cry of pain in the process. I reached the truck and rolled into its bed. I disappeared from view just as the man got back into the cab. I wasn't sure what I was doing but perhaps this man could lead me to some answers. He obviously had a key to this place after all so he must've worked there. I settled in to see where he would go.
The ride was long and featured numerous twists and turns. Trees started to appear overhead, their tops arching up and over the road. The air itself took on a more humid and cooler quality as well. My heart sunk a bit as I realized where the truck was going.
We were driving into the swamp.
What will Runner find at the swamp?? See you next week for Chapter 3!