Her deep sleep-breathing relaxed his muscles, and he gently stroked her hair. He could spend every day with her. With his back against the rock and the weight of Missy’s body against his chest, Andy drew in a deep breath. He didn’t know what the future held; he had no idea what they’d find in Portland, but he knew he could face it with Missy by his side.
Eventually, he allowed himself to drift to sleep.
.......
The man stood in the woods, concealed by darkness and night shadows, and watched the duo sleep. They’d had such a hard journey, but he felt no remorse and no sympathy for them. They should both be dead by now. And if he’d had his way, they would be dead.
The girl was frightened and confused. Her world of darkness had become so much more dangerous, so much more mysterious, so much more uncertain. Her faith wavered. He could feel it, sense it, hear it in her voice and questions.
The freak was frightened and angry. He was afraid of his shadow, what he was, what he could become—would become—if he surrendered and allowed his true nature to assume control.
And this was how the man would break Andy. In his dreams. He’d torment him with visions of what he truly was, of what resided inside him. He’d show him the ugliness of his soul, the darkness of his heart. He’d tempt him with power, lust, and the world of pleasure that lay just beyond his reach. Within his reach, if he so desired.
And then he’d take the girl from him and break him one final time. That would be the catalyst that drove him to surrender, to yield control and authority. He’d become a pawn then, a very useful idiot.
.......
At some point during the night, Andy awoke with a chill. Missy slept soundly, her breathing deep and even. She’d been so tired but hadn’t complained once. He supposed it took much more effort for her to navigate this world.
She was remarkable.
He pulled her close and adjusted his arm so it draped over her shoulders and down her arm. She stirred and mumbled something unintelligible. The feel of her body aroused some deep desire in him. In the dead of that quiet night, thoughts he did not want to entertain assaulted him. She was there for the taking. How easy it would be in the woods at night. She may even enjoy it. Maybe she shared his feelings. Maybe she’d entertained thoughts of being with him, holding him, kissing him. She had no idea what he looked like.
Andy almost woke her but instead pushed those thoughts from his head. They didn’t stay away long. Missy stirred again; her aroma enticed him. He became very aware of every curve of her body, of the placement of his hands and her hands, of the gentleness and gracefulness of her form.
He could take her. He wanted to take her.
Again, though, Andy forced the thoughts from his mind. They were not his thoughts. He cared for Missy and would never hurt her, would never take advantage of her. He needed to get some sleep. They’d have a long day of travel when the sun rose.
He closed his eyes and pushed out the uninvited thoughts that wanted to shove their way in. Eventually, he grew tired of the fight against sleep and willingly succumbed.
.......
He was afloat in a dark sea, lying prostrate on a raft of thin wood. The raft drifted up and down, to and fro, following the crests and troughs of the throbbing water. Beneath the raft, something moved, something writhed. Andy gripped the edges of his tiny vessel. Above, the sky was ridged and loomed close. Gray clouds churned and swirled, promising a thunderous storm.
Suddenly, a hand broke from the water—a woman’s hand, gray and thin, the angle of each joint protruding into leathery flesh. It groped about until it found Andy’s leg, just below the knee. Then another appeared, and another, all the same, all groping about. Andy tried to escape their probing but it was useless; there must have been a dozen of them. One grabbed his wrist, another his thigh, and another his bicep. Each pulled at him, tugging him toward the inky water.
A flash of lightning ripped through the sky, followed by a roaring clap of thunder. The movement of the sea intensified, the crests reaching ten feet now. The tiny raft rolled along, but the height and valley of each wave threatened to spill Andy from the fragile vessel.
And the hands, there were more now, pulling at him, tearing his flesh. Their nails dug into his skin and drew blood. And the more blood that flowed, the more hands appeared as if they were drawn there like sharks to the aroma of the wounded.
Andy struggled to free himself, struggled to remain on the raft. But he was losing his grip. His arms ached; his hands cramped. His fingers could no longer feel the rough surface of the wood.
Eventually, the fight would be lost, and he would slip into the dark waters forever. Whatever gruesome beings were attached to those hands would have their way with him, and he supposed he would become one of them, looking for the next victim to float along.
He told himself he would not let go, regardless of the pain, regardless of the fatigue. He would hold tight and remain on the raft. But he knew it was a promise he could not keep, not without help. He would lose the will to fight and eventually give in, surrender, succumb to the relentless pull.
.......
Another man stood in the forest, yards from the sleeping Andy and Missy. They were out of view but not out of mind. Andy battled unseen forces and creatures from another dimension. His soul was the prize, and the enemy fought viciously for it.
The man stood behind a tree and prayed. Soon he would intervene, but for now, his support would have to remain unheard by human ears and unseen by human eyes.
.......
A foot had nudged her awake, heavy, like a boot. Missy stirred and wrestled to gain a bearing on where she was and who had awakened her. Andy? No, he slept next to her.
“Hey.” A man’s voice. Deep. Firm.
Missy rubbed her eyes, pushed away from Andy. Fear gripped her throat, and her dry mouth couldn’t produce saliva to swallow. She elbowed Andy, but he didn’t even stir in his sleep.
“Miss?” The man again.
Missy stretched out a hand in front of her and waved it back and forth. “Stay away.”
Leaves crunched as the stranger shifted his stance. “Ma’am.”
She elbowed Andy again, shook him. “Andy.”
.......
A voice wafted over the water then, a woman’s voice. Missy. It was barely audible over the roar of the sea and booms of thunder, but he knew it was Missy. She called his name.
“Andy.”
He had to hold on for her. She needed him, and he needed her too.
“Andy.”
They were meant for each other. Neither fate nor coincidence had pushed them together, had her to find him in that drainage pipe.
“Andy.”
There was something more there, something providential about their meeting.
“Andy!”
Andy startled and awoke. A leaf scratched his face and he pushed it away. It was light outside. Morning. Missy nudged him. “Andy.”
Andy cleared his eyes and looked up. A man towered above them. He wore a uniform.
Chapter 29
What’re you two doing?”
“Excuse me?” Andy said. He was still trying to clear the sleep fog from his head and rid himself of the images in his dream.
“There’s no overnighting in the park.” The man was tall, thin, clean-shaven. He wore a green uniform with some sort of outdoor insignia on it. A park ranger.
Andy sat upright. “Oh, sorry.” He held his head in his hands. “We, uh, we—”
A voice from Andy’s left interrupted. “Oh, there you are. Thank God we found you.” An elderly man approached. Small, thin, dirty gray goatee. His clothes were baggy but not ill fitting. His eyes were the clearest blue Andy had ever seen. “Boy, I thought we’d lost you two.” He turned to the park ranger who now looked very confused. “Officer, this is my niece and her boyfriend. We were hiking last night, and they got caught out here after sunset. Must’ve gotten lost.”
The ranger turned to Andy, then glanced at
Missy.
“She’s blind, sir, you see,” the old man said. “Needs a guide at all times.”
“She—she wandered away from me,” Andy said. He had no idea who this man was but gathered he was there to help. He’d play along for now. “I had to look for her. By the time I found her, it was dark. We got turned around. I didn’t want to stumble around in these woods all night, so we decided to wait for help. We must’ve fallen asleep.”
The ranger turned to Missy. “Miss? You want to add anything?”
Missy faced the ranger; her eyes danced around his face but never focused on it. “I’m sorry, sir.”
The ranger put his hands on his hips and scanned the woods. “You know your way out?”
“Sure do,” the old man said. “Got my truck back in the parking lot.”
The ranger looked Missy and Andy up and down. “You two look like you could use a hot shower and change of clothes. Go on. Be more careful next time, you understand? For your own safety.”
Andy stood and helped Missy to her feet. “Thank you, sir.”
The old man shook the ranger’s hand. “Thank you for finding them. I was so worried. We all were.” Then he turned to Andy. “Let’s go.”
They walked in silence until they reached the truck and got in, shut the doors.
Andy turned to the old man sitting behind the steering wheel. “You mind telling me who you are?”
He turned the key, bringing the engine to life, and shifted into drive. “Someone who just saved your hide.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
The road cut through the leafless forest in wide turns and bends. There were few straightaways as it followed the curve of the terrain.
“Why did you save our hides?”
“And how did you know where to find us?” Missy said.
For a handful of long seconds, the driver focused on the road that lay ahead. “What happened to Clement?”
Missy turned her face to Andy and felt for his hand.
“You know Clem?” Andy asked.
The old man tightened his jaw. “What happened to him?”
Missy faced the driver again. “You changed the subject.”
“I did.” He paused and turned onto another road that took them deeper into the reservation. “I’ll answer all your questions as best I can, but first I need to know what happened to Clement.”
“He died,” Andy said. “As best we can tell. Yesterday in Boston. He—he gave his life for us.”
Missy squeezed Andy’s hand.
The old driver fell silent and serious again. His jaw muscles flexed rhythmically as if he were chewing. Finally, he said, “Did he give you the message?”
“What message?”
“Did he tell you who you are?”
Andy didn’t want to answer. He didn’t know this stranger and didn’t know if he could be trusted.
Missy apparently knew something Andy didn’t. “He told Andy who he was,” she said. “He started to tell us about me, but we got . . .”
“Interrupted,” Andy said. “He told us to read Revelation eleven.”
“Did you?”
“We don’t have a Bible. No one does.”
“How do you know about all this?” Missy asked.
The man paused, glanced at Missy, then Andy, then back to the road. Outside, the sky was brightening, and bars of shadows and light now striped the road. “I’m a friend.”
“That doesn’t tell us much,” Missy said.
“Did Clement tell you where to go?”
Andy said, “Portland. He told us to find some guy named Amos.”
The old man nodded slowly. “Amos. Yes, that makes sense.”
“So who are you?”
“Tony. I’m here to take you to Portland.”
Tony turned right onto a road partially barricaded with a Road Closed sign. He glanced at Andy. “It’s closed for construction. Still passable at this time of day.”
“How did you know about Portland?” Missy asked.
“You two think you’re alone but you’re not. There’s a whole network of folks in place to make sure you get where you need to be.” He slowed the truck and turned right onto a road that climbed straight up a steep hill. “Thing is, there’s a whole network of other folks at work to make sure you don’t get there.”
“Why?” Missy asked. “What’s so special about us?”
Tony lifted his eyebrows. “You haven’t noticed yet?”
“That’s why we’re being hunted? Because we’re different?”
“Not because you’re different, but why you’re different.”
“I’m not following.”
He pointed to the glove box. “Open it. There’s a Bible. Revelation eleven.”
Andy opened the glove box and retrieved a small worn copy of the New Testament and Psalms. But before he could open the book, a terrible crunching sound shook his eardrums, and the truck lurched forward to the right.
Chapter 30
The truck veered off the road and skidded into an embankment with such force that Andy’s seat belt broke, and he slammed into the dashboard. The world momentarily went black, and an alarming ringing settled in his ears. When he came to, he noticed three things.
Missy was slumped in the seat. Her belt had held, but she’d apparently hit her head on the dash with enough force to knock her unconscious.
The windshield had shattered and littered the interior with tiny pieces of glass. Tony lay on the ground in front of the truck, face bloodied and his right arm twisted behind him at a very uncomfortable angle.
Smoke poured from the engine compartment, but through it, Andy could make out the form of a semi sitting on the roadside, its brake lights glowing red.
Andy rubbed his eyes and head. A thick haze clouded his mind, jumbled and muddled his thoughts. Where had the semi come from? Who drove it?
There’s a whole network of other folks at work to make sure you don’t get there.
He looked over at Missy. A single trickle of blood ran from a cut on her forehead, over the bridge of her nose, and down her cheek.
Righting himself, Andy scanned the area. Nothing but forest on either side of the truck. The sky was clear, the sun still low. From around the back of the semi, a figure appeared, a man. He carried something in his hand.
A gun.
There’s a whole network of other folks at work to make sure you don’t get there. Portland.
If Andy had hoped the accident was just that, an accident, his hopes were dashed at the sight of the man with a gun. He had to move; he had to get Missy out of the truck.
He unbuckled her seat belt and pulled her into his arms, then opened the door. By the time he tumbled out and onto the ground, the man had reached the front of the truck and stood over Tony.
Tony groaned and moved. From his vantage point on the ground, Andy could only see the man’s legs. He stood over Tony for a couple seconds, then discharged his weapon. Tony’s body flinched, then fell motionless. The gun discharged again.
Andy tried climbing to his feet, but the man was there before he could even get to his knees. He wouldn’t toy around with Andy and Missy. He was there to kill them, not take them captive, not torment them. His mission was singular.
The man was young and tall, thin but muscular. His angular face housed two large round eyes. Dark. Lifeless. A shark’s eyes. He grinned but said nothing. A man of few words and all action.
There was no time to plan, no time to talk or plead or bargain. Instinct had to govern his movements. Without taking time to calculate or weigh the risks, he pushed off the ground with both arms and swept his foot toward the gunman’s legs. His foot connected with the man’s ankle with enough force to knock the man off balance.
The gun discharged.
Missy shrieked.
The man went down and hit the ground.
Andy had to move quickly. He followed the direction of his momentum and continued his spin while he stood. From his positi
on on the ground, the man raised the gun again, but Andy was there. His leg swung around and caught the man’s hand, dislodging the gun and sending it skidding across the ground. Without hesitation, Andy was on the man. Behind him, Missy choked and gurgled. He stole a quick glance. She groped at her neck, both hands red with blood.
She’d been hit. She needed help. She needed Andy.
The gunman lunged at Andy and struck him along the left side of the face, but the blow had little effect. Andy dropped his weight on his attacker’s body and head-butted him squarely in the nose. The man tried to roll away, tried to fight back, but Andy’s attack was relentless. He rammed his forehead into the man’s face over and over again.
But the man would not give up. He continued to fight and struggle. Eventually, he put enough space between himself and Andy that he could drive his knee up and into Andy’s groin. Andy toppled off, nausea spreading into his abdomen. The man climbed to his feet but not before Andy could get upright. Both men faced each other. The gunman’s swollen nose dripped blood. His eyes were wild and hate-filled.
On the ground, Missy continued to struggle for breath. She was choking on her own blood. Andy had to finish this, or Missy would never make it.
Seeing that Andy was distracted by Missy, the man threw himself at Andy and caught him in the chin with a solid fist. The blow was so hard it pushed Andy back and spun him nearly in a full circle. The gunman had incredible strength. Like Trevor.
But Andy remained on his feet, and as the man lunged again, Andy sidestepped and caught him with an elbow to the face that stopped his advance. The man stumbled back. Andy followed with a blow to the jaw, an elbow to the nose. He grabbed the man’s head and butted the bridge of his nose again.
In such proximity, though, the man could get both hands around Andy’s throat. Andy delivered a series of blows to the man’s trunk, but it had no effect. He had only one option. He grabbed the man’s head and thrust both thumbs into his eye sockets. The man screamed and squeezed his eyes closed but did not loosen his grip. His hands pressed on Andy’s trachea, threatening to crush it. Andy tightened his neck muscles and pushed his thumbs deeper until he could feel the curve of the eyeballs.
Midnight Is My Time Page 14