The Colonel stared at him, enjoying his fear.
“I warned you to find more intelligent friends, doctor. I’ve had more difficulty finding my keys.”
“What do you want?” Brian asked, being careful to not sound demanding. “You’ve already told me what you’re planning, and how you can’t wait to see my reaction.”
“All true. I told you on the phone I wanted to meet your friends. Perhaps I would have let you pick a neutral location had you not acted so rashly.”
“I’m having a hard time believing that.”
“You’re probably right,” he said with a twisted smile. “But that was then; this is now. I’m content to kill your friends at this point. I might leave a few of them alive if I leave here with every electronic device in that house. I want that audio file destroyed. Your friend outside was using a radio, so I’m thinking the house isn’t quite empty.”
“I’ll gather everything myself if you just leave,” Brian said, stalling.
“I don’t want to do that. At the very least, I’d like to say hello to Dr. Kelley. The two of you make such a cute couple. Oh, and Dr. Bradley,” he called, raising his voice, “Dr. Harper sends her greetings.” He chuckled and looked at Brian. “When she can speak, that is.”
Brian could feel his fear giving way to rage. “Neff was radioing someone off-site,” he lied. “We’re the only ones here. Now let me go and I’ll get what you want.”
“You’re a very poor liar. Your words strike the right chord, but your eyes tell me otherwise.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No, it isn’t.” The Colonel looked around the garage, surveying the equipment and scattered tools. He picked up a staple gun and slid its row of staples into his hand. He held them up in front of his eyes. “A clever, but primitive, tool.”
The words were scarcely out of the Colonel’s mouth when the staples disappeared—at least that’s what Brian thought. A second later he felt excruciating pain in his thigh.
“Aaahhh!” he cried out and fell to the floor. He looked at the source of his agony. The row of staples was firmly buried in his flesh. He gasped, raising himself up on one elbow. The Colonel took a few slow steps toward him, strolling around him in a circle. He knelt down, positioning his face inches from Brian’s.
“You know, I’m not here to kill you, Dr. Scott. That would be like turning off a favorite show just when things were getting interesting. However …”
Brian cried out again and twitched on the ground. He could feel the staples burrowing deeper into his thigh.
“You’ll heal, of course,” the Colonel soothed mockingly, “but I can cause you pain in a thousand ways. I’ll give you a minute to clear your head while I kill Dr. Bradley. Then we can go to the house to get acquainted.”
***
The soft, steady whir of the wheelchair reverberated through the paved tunnel. Their path was unobstructed, save for the occasional spider web that Sabi could neither avoid nor clear with his powerless arms. He had asked Clarise to gather with the others to pray after he left. He’d also said goodbye, telling Clarise thank all those who had cared for him at Miqlat in case he did not return. He prayed continuously while his chair moved slowly, relentlessly, forward.
He could see the door now. He began to hear the voices, unintelligible syllables that beckoned him to deliver the message God had embedded into his consciousness, night after night. He rolled the chair to a stop and prayed a last, brief, silent prayer. Then, as he’d done dozens of times in his twilight mind, he rammed the chair into the door. It didn’t move.
Surprised, he urged his wrist forward, propelling the chair once more into the door. No effect. He looked at the adjacent walls for a speaker, some biometric device like those scattered all over Miqlat. A devastating realization swept over him: This door was different because this place was different. It was the only location he’d never seen for the simple reason that it lay outside Miqlat. Anyone wheelchair-bound would have no reason to leave Miqlat or go across the property on his own.
He looked upward and squinted, his mind rebelling at a dull, silver protrusion that was faintly visible through a thin layer of dust. A deadbolt. The door was locked.
76
The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.
—Seneca
“I’m curious, Dr. Bradley,” the Colonel said evenly as knelt beside Brian, watching him writhe on the hard concrete floor of the garage, blood streaming from the wound in his leg, “how long are you going to let your friend suffer on your behalf?”
He stood up and looked around. “I know you’re here, Malcolm,” he taunted. He peered into the dark interior of the garage, listening intently. He stood up and stepped around the disabled Brian toward the open, concrete expanse before him. He took note of a light switch affixed to a support beam. He flicked it on. Lights cascaded in unison through the interior. He smiled and watched, looking for an unnatural movement in the stillness.
“Up here.”
The Colonel jerked his head upward. His eyes were drawn immediately to the barrel of the handgun in Malcolm’s outstretched arm only a few feet away. Malcolm pulled the trigger, firing rapidly into the object of his hatred, again and again.
Malcolm suddenly felt his own body go rigid. He struggled to react, but was completely immobilized by some unseen force.
“How imprudent, Dr. Bradley,” the Colonel snarled, looking up at where Malcolm had perched himself on a ledge, partially obscured by some large boxes piled atop each other. He’d been kneeling on a partially completed plywood floor. “Had you not said anything, you may have injured me, albeit slightly. But in any regard, this body repairs even more quickly than your friend’s.”
“Bbbllld,” Malcolm croaked through his unmoving jaw.
The Colonel looked into Malcolm’s eyes, but they weren’t trained on his face. They were directed at the floor. The Colonel looked down. He was standing in a small pool of blood. He took a step back and stumbled over Brian’s prone body. The blood was Brian’s.
The Colonel glared back up at Malcolm, who was still fastened to his ledge by the Colonel’s power. “You fool!” the Colonel raged. “I decide who lives and dies here!”
In a rush of fury, Malcolm’s body hurtled from the rafter down to the concrete and then was once more jolted through the air toward one side of the garage. He smashed into a pegboard wall, sending the tools fastened against it flying in all directions. He groaned but was immediately lifted into space again, this time hurled into the door of the garage. A loud crack shuddered through the space, accompanied by a brief yelp.
The Colonel walked over to the motionless form, but his eye caught an unexpected sight—a face at the bottom corner of the window. It was Neff.
“Please join us,” the Colonel growled viciously. The window exploded, spraying glass in every direction as Neff’s form went sailing through it into a shelf full of tools next to the pegboard wall.
The Colonel looked at the prone figure, and then back at Malcolm. They weren’t moving—and neither was Brian.
77
At the edge of chaos, unexpected outcomes occur. The risk to survival is severe.
—Michael Crichton
Melissa closed her eyes tightly, squeezing a flood of tears onto her soft cheeks. She’d seen everything, heard everything. She’d managed to find a space between the legs of a large, rusty table saw and a drill press. Both had been covered with heavy canvas tarps, which overlapped, allowing her to crawl through for coverage and, at the right angle, provided a tiny viewing slit.
She’d managed to crawl underneath leaving everything undisturbed—everything, that is, except the dust that her coat had swept through while she crawled on her hands and knees. She realized after she was in position that she’d left a detectable trail. But it was too late. There was no time to move elsewhere.
She wanted to burst out of hiding, to go to Brian. She’d seen him hit the floor and knew instantly that at least one
of Malcolm’s bullets had found the wrong mark. She’d watched the trickle of blood become a pool. He was bleeding out. He was dying, and there was nothing she could do.
Melissa watched helplessly as the Colonel knelt next to Brian. To her surprise, he felt for a pulse, then shook his head.
“Such an inept species,” he muttered, then stood up. “You do not have my permission to die, professor,” he said with a casual sniff. He removed his jacket and laid it on one of the work benches. “When you’re done entertaining me, then I’ll kill you, not before.”
Brian’s body began to rise from the floor. Melissa suppressed a gasp. Her astonishment was tempered when she caught sight of the blood dripping from a gunshot wound somewhere in Brian’s torso.
Silently, the Colonel placed his hand on the right side of Brian’s chest. After a few seconds, he did the same with his other hand on the underside. The trickling stopped. With Brian’s body still suspended, the Colonel turned in Melissa’s direction. She carefully moved her head an inch to the side and held her breath. There were no footsteps, only some shuffling.
Subduing her terror, she tilted her head back to the vantage point that allowed her to see. She saw the Colonel grab a soiled towel that had been draped over the edge of a barrel. He wiped Brian’s blood from his hands. In the same instant, she felt a piercing pain in her abdomen. A contraction. Not now! She sat back and gritted her teeth, then bit into the thick sleeve of her coat as the pain coursed through her.
Hearing the subtle crack of glass under pressure, she moved to look through the slit again. Neff had come to and discovered that he’d landed atop Malcolm’s gun. He’d risen to one knee and taken aim, but was unable to hold the weapon steadily. He was shaking. He grunted in pain and fired.
The shot was well wide of its mark and smacked something metal beyond Melissa’s location on the distant back wall. The bang of the gun had startled the Colonel, causing Brian’s body to drop to the ground with a sickening thud. The Colonel turned and saw Neff collapse.
“Those things are dangerous,” the Colonel scolded sardonically. He held out his hand, and the gun rocketed into it. He popped the magazine and looked at it. “Excellent. I’ll only need two bullets.”
***
Nili leaped off the platform as it came to a rest in the upstairs pantry, followed closely by Ward and Malone, all of them fully armed. “Finally!” she exclaimed in desperation. The three dodged the furniture in the house and bolted out the front door, into the snow. Malone quickly lost pace as Ward and Nili sprinted ahead toward the garage, weapons at the ready.
***
Sabi sat trembling in his wheelchair. He’d heard the gunshots, the angry voice, the thunderous crashes. He’d tried repeatedly to move the door, knowing it was futile. He’d finally ceased and silently vented his frustration to God.
His prayers had been abruptly answered by a loud ping and a whistling sound next to his ear. He knew within moments that he’d nearly been killed, a stray bullet fragment ricocheting within inches of his skull. He closed his eyes and gradually gained control of his breathing—in, then out … in, then—
The quietwas suddenly broken by another gunshot. Then silence resumed.
His pulse quickened. In desperation, he powered his chair into the door, and it gave way. He looked up at the lock, which was now nothing more than a mass of protruding metal and splinters. He pressed forward, but the heavy door resisted. He rammed it again and gained, slowly gaining more ground. He backed the chair up for another run … and heard Melissa scream.
78
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
—John 11:25–26 ESV
Melissa had turned away, unable to watch as the Colonel fired a kill shot into Neff’s head. She began to weep again, trying desperately to keep her promise to remain hidden. The shot was followed by silence. She mustered the courage to look.
The Colonel carefully sidestepped the pool of blood that had formed from Brian’s wound. He moved to step over Neff, but stopped. He crouched over Neff’s body and seemed to take in its scent, like an animal inspecting a carcass. Melissa watched in transfixed horror as the Colonel put his hand to Neff’s head wound and then put his fingers, soaked in blood, to his nose. His face conveyed curiosity. Suddenly he licked the blood from his fingers. Melissa’s stomach heaved.
The Colonel stood up and walked over to Malcolm, who had begun to stir. “Goodbye, Dr. Bradley. Tell dear Andrew that it was more fun to kill him than you.”
Melissa’s instinct overtook her. “No!” she screamed, expending all the energy she had.
The Colonel’s head jerked in her direction. His brutal, wicked smile quickly returned. “Well, finally a pleasant surprise.”
He turned in her direction. He could see Melissa’s tussled red hair and frightened face peering out from behind the corner of the tarp. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet again in better circumstances, Dr. Kelley. Please, won’t you join me?”
Melissa struggled to move. Another contraction hit suddenly, and she slumped to the floor, gasping in pain.
“Oh, come now, professor.”
Melissa groaned loudly. The Colonel watched as her hand clawed the side of the table saw. He took a step toward her and stopped.
“What is this?” the Colonel demanded.
Melissa looked up at him, startled by the shock in his voice. She lowered her head, gasping and gritting her teeth through another contraction.
“You’re pregnant?” He got down on one knee and grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look at him. “Who is the father? How are you pregnant?”
Melissa stared at him, her senses beginning to blur. The question made no sense. “Brian,” she murmured weakly.
“You lie!” he snapped. “You can’t have children. We examined you at the base. Now tell me how you’re pregnant.”
“I told—”
“The truth! Now!” He gave her head a vicious jerk.
“I don’t know,” she answered in a barely audible moan.
The Colonel stood up and took a step back. He looked around at the mayhem he’d caused, and his eyes fell on a utility knife. He held out his palm, and the knife flew from its resting place to him. He grabbed Melissa again by the hair and pulled her from her hiding place. Muffled whimpers arose from her throat. She was too weak to scream.
“I must know,” he sneered. “I’ll just have to take it with me.” The Colonel moved around to Melissa’s side and exposed the blade. He pulled her sweater up.
A still, calm voice penetrated the air. “No.”
The Colonel looked behind him over his left shoulder. He lowered the blade, dumbstruck at the source of the voice.
Sabi sat in his wheelchair a few feet from the stricken Melissa, whose legs were now spread, the mound of her abdomen exposed before the kneeling Colonel who was ready to tear into her womb.
“Is this a joke?” the Colonel jeered.
“You will not touch the woman again,” Sabi said quietly. “The Most High commands you to leave.”
The Colonel erupted in laughter. He got to his feet and turned toward Sabi. “How dare you?” he snarled. “How dare you command me?”
“I did not command you. The Most High commands you. You will not touch the woman. Leave this place—now.”
“I’m not going to leave this place!” the Colonel bellowed, his rage building. “I’ll take your head off and then get back to business.”
“How stupid,” Sabi said in quiet defiance, “to threaten one such as me with death. Look at me. I welcome death. You may kill me today, but you will not touch the girl. The Most High has decreed it.”
The Colonel stared down at the frail figure. Sabi looked into the cold, blue eyes. Melissa grimaced through another contraction.
“Yes …” the Colonel said slowly. “Death would be a gift for you. I could cut you
in a hundred places, and you’d never feel it. It would be more fitting to increase your misery … perhaps remove your eyes … or your tongue. Yes.”
“You may do as you wish to me,” Sabi replied, “but whether here or in the life to come, I will know that you did not touch this woman … that you hearkened to the voice of the Most High as your master, or suffered His punishment. Hear my words. You know He is real.… You know I will see it … Watcher.”
The Colonel took a step back. Melissa was still conscious. Afraid to move, she’d listened in terror to the exchange. The word itself was paralyzing. She turned her head. Incredibly, the Colonel appeared startled.
“I know who you are, Watcher,” Sabi said serenely. “The question in your mind should now be … how? How would this weak, pitiful man know what others do not? There can only be one answer.” Sabi started to smile. “It is because God has shown me … and if that is the case, He has truly given me the message you have heard. This is your opportunity to escape punishment. Now go.”
Melissa watched as a silent face-off ensued. The seconds seemed like hours. Terror began to well up in her in anticipation of an explosion of violence. But Sabi was still smiling, wide-eyed and expectant, as though on the verge of some long-anticipated thrill.
“Are you insane?” the Colonel broke the silence. “Yahweh sends a crippled village idiot as His Marine. What are you smiling for?”
“I wait,” Sabi answered. “I wait to see if you will obey … or perish. It is time to decide.”
The Colonel gritted his teeth. His face began to turn red. In a flash, he spat violently at Sabi, then repeated the action. The crippled man remained erect, unmoving, as gobs of spittle dripped off his nose and clung to his beard.
The Colonel stooped and pressed his face toward him. “Watch what I do now,” he growled, quaking with anger.
Sabi watched in dismay as the Colonel whirled and strode toward the fallen men. Melissa was abruptly seized again by pain. She tried to breathe evenly, turning her head to see what was happening. Objects on the floor and the walls began to hurtle toward the prone figures of Malcolm and Brian, pelting them repeatedly in a spastic fit of the Colonel’s rage. But just as quickly as the tantrum had commenced, it stopped. The Colonel had come to some silent realization. A low, menacing laugh gurgled from deep within his chest.
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