I tried to remain calm and not let the claustrophobia have its way with me. I wasn’t tied up; I could move around freely. I felt a rough indoor/outdoor carpet underneath my cheek. I smelled a strong odor of rubber and a faint trace of motor oil, but I still couldn’t figure out where I was.
Something gouged me in the back, and I reached over my shoulder to feel what it was. I felt a wheel that rotated a full three hundred and sixty degrees, and I quickly discovered that there were three others to match. It was Peter’s stroller. The one we kept in my trunk.
I froze as I realized what happened. Angel Face-or should I say Darrell Gene Rankin-had locked me in the trunk of my own car. I felt around in my pockets for my keys, hoping that he had been stupid enough to leave them with me. They weren’t there-he had either taken them with him or used them to move the car.
I struggled to think for a moment, fighting against whatever he had drugged me with. It still impaired my senses, and I couldn’t use logic or reason for a few seconds. Then, I remembered that he was in my house, holding my family at knifepoint; that was motivation to get out when all I wanted to do was pass out again.
I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths and relax. I needed to think, and I couldn’t do that if I was freaking out. I knew that most modern cars were engineered to make getting locked inside the trunk a non-issue. I found it strange that we lived in a world where such designs were necessary, but I was grateful that someone had possessed the foresight to anticipate such a problem.
I tried to remember how to pop the latch. There was supposed to be a handle of some kind. I fumbled in the darkness until I found it and yanked on it as hard as I could. The trunk lid popped open, and cool, crisp air rushed in. I squinted against the sudden brightness and gasped for breath. I got out carefully. My legs were as shaky as a newborn giraffe, but I was able to stand without collapsing.
I looked back and saw a maroon stain where I had bled all over the floor of the trunk. The old scrap of parchment I had carried with me throughout my journey lay there in scarlet. I picked it up, convinced now more than ever that the labyrinth and everything in it had been real. I looked at the note, and the message scrawled there filled me with a sense of urgency that I desperately needed:
“Your family awaits. Go reclaim your life.”
The message made me realize just how lucky I was to be standing here now, safe and free from the maze. It also made me realize that my family wasn’t out of harm‘s way yet. There was still much to do and many miles to go before I could relax.
My car was still in the parking lot where I had left it. The only thing Darrell Gene did was move it to the opposite end of the apartment complex, away from the highway where it wouldn’t be spotted as easily. He left the keys in the ignition. I knew it was too early to consider myself lucky. Once I made sure my family was okay, then I could rejoice.
My car started on the first try. I backed out slowly, still a little disoriented from my escape from the labyrinth and from the head wound. I looked in my rearview mirror as I pulled out of the parking lot and saw Karen’s door open. She stepped out, wearing a mask of confusion as she watched me drive away.
She would never figure out what had happened, and I would never tell her.
That view of Karen in my rearview mirror was the last time I ever saw her. After that fleeting moment passed, I focused ahead of me, on the open road, on the future.
I pressed my foot down on the accelerator and raced toward my house to save my family and my marriage.
I just hoped that both would be intact when I got there.
Chapter 33
“Come on out now, darling.” Darrell Gene held the knife at Judith’s throat. “We’re all waiting to see what Miss America looks like.”
Peter squirmed in Judith’s grasp, whining. She miraculously managed to keep him under control, even at knifepoint.
“Leave Amy alone.”
Carl struggled to speak with his hands and feet tied behind his back. The floor beneath him was covered in a sticky maroon puddle from the deep wound Darrell Gene gave him. The blood stood out in stark contrast against his pale, pasty complexion.
“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, Carl. I won’t hurt a hair on her head. She’s going to be my wife, after all. She‘s got to look good for the pictures. It just wouldn‘t do to have her all banged up and bruised. I‘ll save that part for the honeymoon.”
Carl went back to praying silently, closing his eyes against the pain. Darrell Gene returned his focus to the bedroom door.
“Time’s up, sweetheart. Let’s see just how pretty you really are.”
The door opened and at first no one was there.
“I said come out. I want to see you. Don‘t be shy.”
Amy emerged clothed in delicate white silk, looking like an older, more tired version of the girl who had gotten married all those years ago. Darrell Gene gasped at the sight of Amy standing there in her wedding gown.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “You’re a regular little angel, and I should know. Judith, dear, do you happen to have a camera handy?”
“There’s one in the desk drawer.”
“Well, don’t just sit there playing babysitter. Get up and get it. We’ve got family pictures to take.”
Amy froze. “Family pictures? I’m not taking any kind of pictures with you. You‘re not my family!”
“I think you’ll reconsider that. In fact, not only are you going to be in the picture, staring lovingly into my eyes. But the baby’s gonna be in it too. We’re going to be one big happy family, and the camera‘s gonna capture it all for posterity. Since your husband is gone, it only feels right that I do the manly thing and step in to take his place.”
“No.” Amy’s lower lip began to quiver. “Jamie isn’t gone.”
“He left you for someone else. He apparently didn‘t want his family, but I do. I think we‘ll all get along nicely.”
“No!” Amy wept, crushed by the impossibility of the situation.
“Yes!” Darrell Gene waved the knife around in joyous, festive circles above his head. “Now’s let’s show the camera how much we love each other.”
For the “wedding pictures,” Darrell Gene insisted that they recreate the poses featured on the mantle. Judith snapped the first photo as Darrell Gene and Amy stared into each other’s eyes. The camera couldn’t see the knife that was pressed against her stomach. All it captured was the hatred in Amy’s eyes and the mirth in Darrell Gene’s.
The next pose featured Darrell Gene shoving a hunk of chocolate cake into Amy’s mouth. It was a pose expected from all newly-married couples. The tears, however, were completely optional. Amy decided to include them because she couldn’t have done any differently.
The one that nearly sent her over the edge though was the snapshot of the three of them together. Darrell Gene insisted on holding Peter. It was all Amy could do to stifle her sobs long enough to force a smile that looked more like a grimace of pain.
“Isn’t this fun?” Darrell Gene said as Peter began to cry.
“I can’t imagine being dipped in honey and covered in fire ants could be any more of a joy,” Judith spoke sarcastically as she snapped picture after picture. At first she, too, had balked at the idea of family pictures, but she soon realized that this was buying them some much needed time. Who knew when Darrell Gene would grow tired of this masquerade and kill them all?
There was another reason she was so eager to continue taking pictures. The whir and click of the telephoto lens masked Carl’s struggle on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him desperately trying to fish his cell phone out of his pocket.
He seemed to be having some success, but there was no way of telling if he would be able to dial 911 before Darrell Gene grew tired of posing for the camera. The phones hadn’t worked thus far. Maybe he would get lucky.
Chapter 34
There were no games left for me to
play. No tasks to complete. No riddles to solve. There was only the overwhelming need to get to my house as quickly as possible. In retrospect, I think killing Cerberus was easier.
I gunned the engine, racing out of the apartment complex parking lot, and was dismayed to find myself behind a slow-moving late model Buick. I tailgated the car, noting with a detached eye how the blue paint was oxidizing and how the left signal light dangled by its wires. A bumper sticker read “Of all the things I’ve lost I miss my mind the most.” At the moment, I could sympathize with that all too well.
I veered into the lane of oncoming traffic with the intent to pass when the Buick abruptly made a left hand turn, nearly forcing me off the road. I wrenched the wheel wildly to the left, only narrowly managing to keep my own vehicle under control. My heart thudded in my chest, and it took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. The road ahead of me was clear now. I hit the gas and hoped there would be no additional obstacles in my way.
“God, please protect my family!” I prayed as I rushed through a flashing yellow light. “Keep them safe.” I wasn’t sure what I would do if any of them got hurt because of my selfishness. The thought made me sick to my stomach.
The distance from Karen’s apartment to my house gave me plenty of time to think of all the horrible things that could happen. It wasn’t fair that I had placed my family in this situation. Of course, I wasn’t the one in control of Darrell Gene-something far darker than any minotaur influenced his behavior. But, if I hadn’t gone to see Karen, I would have never gotten trapped in the maze. And if I hadn’t gotten trapped in the maze, I would have been there to protect Amy and Peter and Judith and Carl from the madman that was holding my home under siege.
In a roundabout way, this was all my fault. Of course, I didn’t have the trials and tribulations of the labyrinth anymore to show me the error of my ways, but I didn’t need them now. I could see the direct result of my sins without having to face Barabbas in a mirrored hallway.
I had so many things to be sorry for. I only hoped that Amy would forgive me.
I almost pulled into my driveway with a frantic squealing of tires then thought better of it at the last minute. The last thing I needed to do at this point was alert Darrell Gene to my presence. The only advantage I had at the moment was the element of surprise.
I drove down the block and parked on the curb. It wouldn’t have surprised me if my car got towed, but that was the least of my worries. I ran the length of the block to my house and cut through the yard to get to the back door. I listened for screaming all the way, and was relieved not to hear any. I took that as a good sign.
I didn’t know what precautions Darrell Gene had taken against intruders, but I prayed he had neglected to check the sliding glass door leading into the laundry room. Before I tried the door, I peered through the window in the den, searching for any clue as to what was happening.
The first thing I saw was blood.
Chapter 35
The minotaur blinked his eyes once, twice, three times. No matter how many times he blinked, the sight before him remained the same. Things were different this time around- they were worse.
“Again?” He grumbled, still reeling from defeat. “So soon?”
The hallways smelled of sewage and rot. The walls weren’t comprised of flashing luminescent signs and symbols but of oxidizing sheet metal. Rusty chains hung from the rafters like streamers at a gothic birthday party. Bare light bulbs dangled from the ceiling, winking on and off periodically like eyes readying themselves for sleep. Dark, shadowy creatures with bodies like quicksilver chattered from unseen places, speaking in languages that had been dead for thousands of years. The hallways were filled with screaming; agony, not guilt, was now the currency of the realm, and this was a place of wealth.
Clouds of mosquitoes drifted from one passageway to the other, looking for fresh blood to dine on. Even the flies that swarmed around Asterion’s head were agitated by them. He waved them away and surveyed his new home, noting every ounce of pain that was infused into this place. This was what it must feel like to mainline pure, uncut misery.
Imps with stilettos for teeth worked tirelessly on new and more gruesome facets of the maze. One coated blowgun darts with poison it extracted from the back of a small red frog. Another dug holes in the ground; newly sharpened stakes would be buried there, waiting for some unsuspecting victim to fall in. Some of the other imps hauled in torture devices that were in perfect working order from frequent use. Iron maidens. Cat’s claws. Whips. Thumbscrews. Guillotines. Judas cradles. Beds of nails. Dunking tubs.
It looked like they were preparing for a witch trial, but, Asterion thought any self-respecting witch would be frightened of a place like this.
Asterion himself was even a little bit afraid. This maze was darker than any he’d ever inhabited before, even the one Daedalus had constructed so many centuries earlier. The bleak landscape had as much to do with the new Architect as it did with him.
The trials and tribulations in this labyrinth would be more vicious, more gut-wrenching, and involve more pain and blood than any Asterion had ever participated in before. Even the imps chattered nervously to themselves as they constructed new and terrifying perversities that would haunt this place. They weren’t used to this level of sadness and anguish either.
Some of the labyrinths allowed random rays of light in here and there. Some, like the one Jamie had constructed, had an inner source of illumination that suggested reasons for hope and prayer. In this one, the darkness swallowed light whole. It was like a black hole in the shape of a maze.
Unlike most of the traps, which were largely empty and desolate and devoid of life, this one was brimming with arch demons. The hallways were full of their sulfurous smoke and their black laughter. The shadows created by their outstretched wings were enough to snuff even the most resolute flame. The air was alive with the scratching of their claws on cement and the clicking of talons scraping up and down the sheet metal walls. They waited, just like Asterion.
Asterion spoke aloud to calm his nerves. “We’ve got our work cut out for us with this one, don’t we?”
The voice of the maze sighed. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Chapter 36
Seeing the pool of blood was enough to make me panic, and I nearly charged through the sliding glass door right then and there. Knowing what I know now, that might have gotten everyone killed.
Thankfully, I waited just a fraction of a second longer and strained my neck to see where the blood was coming from. The moment I saw Carl Beckett lying there on the floor, bound with telephone wire, was the moment he saw me. His eyes went wide and so did mine. I wasn’t sure what Darrell Gene had done to him, but it didn’t look good. Carl had lost a lot of blood.
He rocked back and forth, making imprints of himself in the coagulating puddle. He was trying to get free. I weighed the risk of trying to help him versus the risk of leaving him and going after my family instead. I didn’t know how badly he was hurt and reasoned that he might not be much help to me. On the other hand, I knew that Darrell Gene was a formidable opponent and a much bigger man than I was. Two against one would provide better odds. Yet, somehow, I suspected that Carl wouldn’t remain on his feet long after standing up---if he was even able to do that.
I decided to leave him for the moment.
“Get away from me!” Amy screamed from the living room, followed by the sharp report of an open-handed slap. I heard Amy weeping, Peter screaming and Judith praying to God from the other room. I knew I had to hurry.
I ran to the garage, looking for something to use as a weapon. On instinct, I picked up the sledgehammer because it seemed strangely fitting somehow- having wielded one recently, it felt right in my hands. I would have actually preferred a gun of some sort, but Amy never felt comfortable with me owning one. I suspected she would change her tune once this was all over with.
Looking back now, what I did next seemed strangely illogical. But, after all I’d b
een through in the maze, the illogical was starting to feel like second nature to me. The only way I’d been able to escape the dangers of the labyrinth was to fall to my knees and pray. I had trusted in God and He had delivered me. I was going to trust Him again in this case.
My prayer was short but heartfelt. I asked Him to give me strength, to protect my loved ones inside that house, to triumph over my enemy. Then, armed with the sledgehammer and the conviction of my beliefs, I slid the glass door open and stepped inside the house.
“Aren’t we all just one big happy family?” Darrell Gene spoke from the other room.
“You’re psychotic!” Amy wept with each word.
“You’ll grow to love me in time.”
Carl watched me with wide eyes as I stepped over him. He grunted softly, trying to draw my attention. I knelt to untie the knots that bound him, then I saw the cell phone sticking out of his pants pocket. It gave me an idea.
“Trust me,” I whispered. He nodded weakly. I had no idea that the phones hadn’t been working up until this point. I didn’t realize that The Piper had seized control of all electronics and was using them to speak to his servant. Somehow, I think I would have tried to place a call anyway. I had seen and experienced too much not to believe that my prayers would work. I quickly dialed Carl’s number and stepped into the shadows.
Miraculously, his phone rang, sounding like an alarm clock bell. The shrill noise traveled through the house, and it wasn’t long before I heard footsteps approaching. I readied myself to swing the sledgehammer and waited for just the right moment. Darrell Gene walked toward Carl with a look of agitation on his face. That looked turned to surprise and even terror when he realized that he had stepped into a trap.
I swung the sledgehammer as hard as I could, but Darrell Gene was deceptively fast. He raised his forearm and deflected the blow. I heard something snap in his hand as he stopped my attack, and even as he defended himself, his other hand lashed out with the knife. I felt something rip across my abdomen. I didn’t know how deeply I’d been slashed, but I felt warm blood trickling down my stomach.
The Maze - the Lost Labyrinth Page 17