The Last Peak (Book 3): The Darwin Sacrifice

by William Oday

  Not his fault. Wrong time. Wrong place.

  There was a chance he could live if he didn’t do anything stupid.

  “Let go of the handle. Nice and slow. I don’t want to kill you, but I will.”

  “Daddy? Is that you?” The black fabric muffled her voice but didn’t dull the edge of terror.

  “Yes, it’s me. You’re going to be fine.” Mason said because he wasn’t going to say anything else.

  No matter what happened.

  The people seated below the stage murmured and whispered as they realized this wasn’t a planned part of the show.

  Dozens of police officers and prison guards drew their weapons and sighted Mason and his hostage. From across the stage, the President shouted. “No one fires unless I give the order! Mason West, release that innocent man!”

  The guard let go of the handle and Mason dragged him backward trying to keep his captive’s body covering as much of his own as possible.

  Mason took in the countless guns pointing at him. He extended his pistol and targeted the president. That was the one threat that might keep him alive. Keep his daughter alive. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Gabriel.”

  The use of his first name had the intended effect. Cruz’s mouth twisted up like it was an insult. “I do not bargain with terrorists. You will drop the gun and surrender, or I will be forced to order them to kill you both. Do you want an innocent man to die for nothing?”

  The guard locked in Mason’s grasp whimpered. “Please. I have kids. They don’t have a mother. Please.”

  “Shut up and don’t move,” Mason hissed in his ear.

  “Gabriel Cruz!” another voice shouted.

  “What do you want, Father?” Cruz asked.

  The priest walked to the front of the stage as he spoke to the people seated below. “It is not what I want, but what the Lord Almighty requires that matters!”

  Cruz squinted at the priest. “What are you talking about?”

  The priest raised the scepter with the golden cross above his head. “Like Moses with the Pharaoh, this staff is much more than it appears to be.”

  He twisted something at the bottom and the staff beeped loudly three times. He turned back to the president.

  “Priest, what is that?”

  The man with the ruined face pointed the end of the staff at the president. A green light glowed on some kind device drilled into the bottom. “That is an activated pressure sensitive detonator. The slightest impact will set it off.”

  The priest looked around to the security people who were now moving their aim back and forth from Mason to him. “If I drop it, or knock it in any way, it will go off.”

  He turned back to the president and rotated the staff so that the gold cross pointed at Cruz. “The important thing to ask is what is this?”

  “You’re trying my patience with this nonsense.”

  “I assure you it’s not nonsense. Under the gold paint, the cross is made of one pound of SemTex. For the uninitiated, that is an explosive more powerful than TNT and C4.”

  He twisted the staff so the cross rotated back and forth. “You’ll notice the ornamentation. That’s hundreds of quarter-inch ball bearings. Traveling at the speed of sound, it’s shocking what they can do to the human body.”

  The president’s face went pale.

  “Good. I see I have your undivided attention.”

  The crowd below broke like an expanding bubble finally reaching its limit. Chairs flipped over and people ran as security personnel tried to maintain order.

  The priest turned back to the camera that was now without an operator.

  “Citizens of the capital, you will bear witness to God’s justice! Take heed and turn away from your sinful ways! The Almighty has decided in his infinite wisdom to wipe away the vice of modern man. Those who seek to recover it stray from His will.”

  He turned back to Cruz. “Join me, Gabriel.”

  The president didn’t move.

  “Now!”

  Cruz scurried to the front of the stage.

  “Pray with me, Gabriel.”

  Cruz didn’t respond.

  “Close your eyes and bow your head before God!”

  Cruz trembled as his head dropped.

  The priest looked up into the sky.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven

  Hallowed be thy name;

  Thy kingdom come,

  Thy will be done,

  On earth as it is in heaven.”

  Mason whispered into the guard’s ear while keeping the muzzle pressed into his temple. “Don’t move if you want to see your kids again.”

  “Give us this day our daily bread,

  And forgive us our trespasses,

  As we forgive those who trespass against us;

  And lead us not into temptation,

  But deliver us from the evil of this wretched world.

  Amen.”

  Mason holstered his gun while creeping toward the madman with the bomb. Stopping the hanging wasn’t going to do shit if they all ended up getting blown to hell.

  The priest held the staff with both hands and raised it high.

  “His will be done.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  The staff drove down to hit the stage as Mason grabbed it with both hands. He stopped the descent and spun it sideways but the priest didn’t let go.

  The priest stared at him with surprised fury. He pulled back to get control but Mason wasn’t letting go.

  No how. No way.

  They tugged back and forth as Mason tried to rotate it enough to break the priest’s grip. He was a lot stronger than he looked.

  Mason strained to rotate it further. The angle was almost there. The priest would either let go or his wrists would break and then he’d let go.

  The priest’s fingers started to peel away. He was about to lose it.

  The priest leaned back and Mason realized what he was going to do as his head snapped forward to headbutt the staff.

  Mason dropped and drove his head forward. The crown of his head caught the priest on the nose. It cracked and the priest fell over unconscious. His broken nose gushed blood over the ruined skin of his face.

  Mason turned to Cruz and held the scepter out. “Don’t fucking move!”

  Cruz didn’t breathe. And then he smiled.

  “You’re not going to do that. The blast will kill your daughter and the boy. We’ll all die. Give it to me and we’ll talk.”

  We’ll talk.

  Right.

  Mason looked around. Cruz was right. He couldn’t let it go off here. Everyone on stage was guaranteed Swiss Cheese. He couldn’t throw it out into the chaos of people running every which way to escape.

  He looked up at the towering lighthouse. The upper terrace was forty feet above. If he could throw it up to that level, the ground would take most of the blast. The rest would go out and up. There might be injuries below, but every other option guaranteed casualties.

  “You’re right. You win,” Mason said.

  Cruz smiled and held out his hand.

  Mason gripped the end of the staff with both hands and extended it.

  Cruz reached for it and Mason spun in a circle. He launched it like a shot put letting go as the terrace came into view.

  Time stood still as the staff soared end over end through the air.

  It slowed as it neared the peak of its arc.

  It wasn’t going to make it. It would hit the rocky side and send down an avalanche of ball bearings and boulders.

  It vanished over the edge of the terrace.

  A huge explosion sent a plume of dirt rocketing into the air. A few seconds later, debris pelted them from above.

  A horrendous rending sound drew everyone’s attention.

  Mason looked up with his hands protecting his face.

  The lighthouse pitched forward at an impossible angle. It held there an instant and then fell.

  It fractured into massive chunks as it hit the rocky fac
e and tumbled down. It broke apart like tectonic plates pulling apart.

  One massive fragment bounced away from the rock face and fell straight at them.

  Cruz dove off the stage.

  Mason turned to Theresa with her head still covered and the noose around her neck. There was no time to do anything.

  The fragment hit the back edge of the scaffolding.

  Support beams underneath splintered apart and the stage heaved as the back side dropped.

  It knocked Mason on his ass and sent him sliding down the angle.

  The gallows leaned over dragging Theresa and Elio by the neck. It creaked to a stop with Elio’s toes barely touching the wood.

  Next to him, Theresa’s toes dangled in the air. Her body jerked around as she choked.

  No!

  No!

  Mason dug his fingernails into the wood and clawed his way to her. Long splinters dug up under his nails. The pain couldn’t have been further away.

  He made it over and grabbed her legs and lifted.

  She coughed and hacked, but he managed to keep her high enough to keep weight off her neck.

  His back foot started to slide down the steep decline. He stepped up and fought to keep Theresa high enough while also keeping his balance.

  He looked around while insane panic surged inside like a tide. What could he do?

  Doing anything would mean letting go of Theresa. Letting her choke to death.

  The tide rushed in threatening to wash away his reason.

  He glanced over and saw the president above at the front edge of the stage.

  Cruz held a deadly-looking knife in his hand.

  He slid down a few feet angling over to Mason.

  Mason wrapped one arm around Theresa and reached for his pistol with the other.

  It was gone.

  And moving made his feet slide.

  Theresa dropped an inch and the noose tightened.

  Mason struggled back up and wrapped both arms around her tight and lifted.

  Dammit.

  Cruz grinned like a shark and angled closer. He made it to the vertical post holding the crossbeam a few feet away. He pulled himself up and pointed the knife at Mason.

  “I’m going to gut you like a pig. And then do the same to your daughter.”

  Mason tried to get better footing to kick out but he could barely stay up much less kick anything.

  Cruz leaped at him.

  A body streaked by and smashed into Cruz in mid-air.

  The two rolled down off the edge.

  A second later, a head popped up.

  Miro!

  “I snuck over on the passenger ferry.”

  “Help me!” Mason shouted.

  Elio was choking and coughing as he tiptoed around feeling for something to stand on.

  Miro climbed up the ramp.

  Mason held Theresa up while Miro sawed through the thick rope above her head.

  Mason lowered her onto her back. He loosened the noose and got it off. A wide line of red and purple encircled her neck. He pulled the black sack off her head.

  She coughed and gasped.

  “You’re safe. It’s okay,” he said.

  Miro cut through Elio’s rope and eased him down.

  Movement behind the stage drew Mason’s attention.

  Cruz stared at him with a snarl. He turned and ran.

  That bastard was not getting away.

  “Miro, help them down.”

  Miro saw the object of Mason’s focus and nodded. “Go get him.”

  Mason sped down the ramp and leapt off the edge landing on the ground a few feet below. He caught up with the slower man and tackled him to the ground.

  They rolled over locked together like two tigers in a fight to the death.

  Mason wrestled into top position and smashed down an elbow into Cruz’s face. The skin split open revealing pale bone.

  He sat up and rained down heavy blows.

  Left. Right. Left. Right.

  A flurry of punches pulverized Cruz’s face.

  And Mason didn’t stop.

  A bone cracked in his clenched fist.

  And still he didn’t stop.

  Vengeance.

  That was all that mattered.

  A voice echoed into his awareness.

  Quiet at first, but then louder and louder.

  “Sarge!”

  “Sarge, you’re gonna kill him!”

  “Sarge! Think about it!”

  Mason finally understood.

  He was Sarge.

  And he was about to kill the President of the United States of America.

  He awoke from the frenzy and let his exhausted arms fall to his sides.

  Cruz was unrecognizable. His face a mess of blood, lacerations, and bone.

  Mason wanted him dead.

  But not like this.

  Not with the same vigilante justice that Cruz was about to carry out on Theresa and Elio.

  His hands clenched and unclenched, begging to finish the job.

  No.

  He turned and saw Miro watching from the ground behind the stage. Theresa and Elio lay on their backs next to him.

  If they had a future worth living, it was choices like this one that would either make it possible or resign the civility of the old world to history.

  It meant Cruz would have to be tried, convicted, and sentenced.

  And not beaten to death.

  Lightning stabbed up into Mason’s stomach. He grabbed at it and his hands curled around Cruz’s wrists.

  He looked down and saw the knife buried to the hilt in his stomach.

  His hold on Cruz’s wrists weakened. His strength was leaking out.

  Cruz’s hands pulled back and the blade cut free.

  Mason fought to keep the hands under control, but either they were getting stronger or he was getting weaker.

  The blade pivoted up toward his throat. The red point rose inch by inch closing the distance.

  A dark shroud rimmed his vision.

  The struggle with the knife seemed so far away.

  The picture in the middle shrank as the surrounding darkness grew.

  The tip of the knife touched his neck.

  Did it matter what happened so far away?

  “Daddy!”

  Theresa!

  Mason dove into the scene floating in the middle of the void.

  He lurched to the side as the knife nicked his neck. He twisted the blade around and stabbed downward.

  The blade plunged through Cruz’s neck and stuck into the dirt below.

  Mason fell over onto his back.

  He turned his head and saw Theresa sit up and look at him. Her mouth moved but he couldn’t hear the words.

  Mason stared at the gray sky beyond. He prayed that God was real. And that God might forgive all of the things he’d done in life. Especially the things that he himself could never forgive.

  I love you, Theresa.

  I love you, Beth.

  I hope to see you again.

  He was so tired.

  Too tired to stay awake.

  He closed his eyes and the numbing comfort dragged him under.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  BETH hugged Theresa like she was trying to squash her daughter into her soul. Which she was.

  She’d been hugging her all day like this.

  Her precious baby had survived.

  She squeezed harder.

  “Mom, you’re choking me.”

  The vision of her daughter almost being hanged burned in her mind. The hopeless horror. Of the noose around her neck. Of it choking her.

  She let go. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s just. You know.”

  Theresa nodded. “I know. I wish dad could’ve seen this, too.”

  Beth felt tears welling up in her eyes. She wiped at them before they could escape and slide down her face.

  Miro wrapped his long arm around them both and squeezed. “He wouldn’t have approved anyway. It’s better this
way.”

  Beth laughed.

  The hollow laugh that betrays a bottomless well of misery.

  “I should do it, right?” he whispered in her ear.

  She nodded. Her heart ached that Mason would miss such a beautiful occasion.

  Miro walked across the room and took Iridia’s hand. “Babe, we haven’t known each other long in the usual reckoning of things. But, the time we’ve spent together hasn’t been ordinary time. These months are years. I feel like I’ve known you forever. I feel like I’ve loved you forever.”

  He dropped to a knee and pulled something out of the inner pocket of his coat. He raised it to her.

  A ring.

  Iridia sucked in a quick, little breath. Even her surprise was gorgeous.

  “There aren’t any jewelers with reasonable opening hours right now,” Miro said. “So Beth gave this to us. It was the ring her father gave to her mother. Iridia—”

  “Wait!” Iridia said.

  Miro’s stuttered to silence.

  “I can’t!”

  His eyes went wide with fear.

  “Not like this,” Iridia said. “Noor, pass me one of those flowers.”

  Noor retrieved a single red rose at the peak of its ephemeral beauty.

  Iridia tucked into her hair. She looked like a post-apocalyptic Aphrodite. She adjusted it into place and then smiled. “Okay. Go ahead.”

  Miro smiled. “Too bad Sarge couldn’t see this.” He raised the ring.

  “I’m not dead yet.”

  Beth spun around in shock to see her husband awake. He was awake! Mostly. His eyes were slits, but the barest hint of a smile rested on his face. He lay in the hospital bed looking like death might’ve been a better option.

  Beth rushed to his side. Tears spilled off her cheeks.

  “I’m okay, honey.”

  Beth buried her head in his arm.

  He groaned.

  “Sorry!” Beth pulled back not meaning to hurt him.

  “I will be okay, someday. So what were you hoping I’d see?”

  “Welcome back, Sarge! You tough son-of-a-bitch!”

  “Language, Miro!” Iridia said glancing at Noor.

  Everyone took turns hugging Mason and even Miro had moisture lining his eyelids.

  “It’s good to be back,” Mason said. “More than I can say.”

  “Then don’t say,” Miro said. “Watch and listen while history is made!” He turned to Iridia and got back down on one knee. He searched through his pockets. “Where did I put it? It was here a second ago.”