by Dan Alatorre
I swallowed hard. “I guess so.”
“Don’t be arrogant. You didn’t control me. You couldn’t control me, and I didn’t want to be controlled.” He took a long pull on his cigarette and narrowed his eyes, glancing at a wall clock mounted in a wire cage. “Coming in here allowed me to stop the slide.”
“What?” I sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“Do you remember in Drivers Ed class, Mr. Morgan told us to look both ways before crossing a one way street? Do you remember what he said?”
“A one way street?” I cocked my head.
“Yeah,” he said. “You can do everything right and end up just as dead as if you’d been wrong. Because other people can screw up.”
Jimmy exhaled, blowing his smoke toward the ceiling. “You aren’t looking both ways, pal. You never did. Maybe guys like you don’t have to.”
“Guys like me?” I said. “You were a guy like me, once.”
“No,” he said, rising. “Not really, I don’t think.”
He hung up and walked toward a steel door.
“What are you talking about?” I jumped up and pounded on the glass. “Why didn’t you just stop?”
A big guard approached me, his hand on his night stick. “Sir, please do not touch the glass.”
Jimmy looked back at me as he prepared to make his exit. He mouthed the words. “I told you why.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
Another guard approached. “Sir, control yourself or you’ll be removed.”
Jimmy said something to the officer nearest him, gesturing to the empty chair. The officer nodded.
Returning to the glass, Jimmy remained standing and picked up the phone. “I had to,” he said. “I was out of control and heading full speed off a cliff.”
I couldn’t believe my friend could throw his life away. I pressed the receiver to my ear. “You got yourself locked up for twenty years because it was better than what would have happened otherwise? That’s hard to believe.”
His face took on a pained appearance, like he was remembering things better off forgotten. “I wasn’t in charge of myself anymore. It was worse than you know, Dougie. Dark.” He swallowed hard. “I did things. Terrible things. Coming in here for killing that guy . . . I got off cheap.”
“To what?” I was nearly shouting again.
“Okay, sir. Put down the phone.” The big guard gripped his baton and squared his shoulders. “Time’s up.”
I lowered my voice, but not my intensity. “What kinds of things? What did you do?”
Jimmy shook his head, moving his gaze to the floor. “The worst things you can think of.” He raised his eyes to look at me one last time. “They locked up two of us when they put me in here.”
He slid the phone back into the receiver and walked off. I didn’t know what things he could have meant, and he didn’t want me to know. At the time, he was right.
It would only be years later, after talking to a voodoo witch and a priest, that I would even begin to understand what he was talking about.
Chapter 42
The windshield wipers thrust bands of rain down the sides of the Navigator as I drove north on I-75. Long stretches of water ran sideways across the glass like little rivers.
The three gas cans in the back ensured we’d make it to Atlanta without stopping—on paper. The numbers worked, but the rough weather made it long a game of cat and mouse. Wind would gust up from nowhere and push the car around, and as the skies darkened with the onset of twilight, the fun was only getting started.
I checked the fuel gage and the clock. Six hours into our trek and we’d already consumed most of our gas. I’d be using the spare cans sooner than I thought. In the rearview mirror, Mallory and Sophie slept. No point in waking her for that.
Leaning forward, I squinted out the windshield. The highway curved to the left, but this section didn’t have reflectors or lights. I gripped the wheel and eased my foot off the gas pedal.
Lightning flashed, turning the road white—and illuminating a massive tree sprawled across the highway.
My heart jumped. I stomped the brakes and spun the steering wheel, sending us into a tailspin. The force of the turn threw me into the side window. I yanked the wheel in the other direction as the ground disappeared out from under us.
Mallory screamed. Our big car slid sideways down the embankment. All I could do was hang on.
Don’t roll over. Don’t roll over. Don’t roll over.
It was only a second or two, but I tried to look back to see where we were headed. The next flash of lightning showed more trees.
Lots of them.
I held my breath and braced myself. I couldn’t steer while sliding in reverse.
Don’t hit a tree. Don’t hit a tree. Don’t—
The booming crunch of metal smashing into wood met us with a massive jolt. My head slammed the headrest. Our suitcases and gear went flying.
I rubbed my skull and opened my eyes. The drumming of rain on the Navigator’s roof was the only sound. Our headlights illuminated a wet hillside—and two huge ruts of mud that traced a path from the empty highway to our car.
Mallory gasped. “What’s going on?”
I twisted around. Sophie was buckled into her car seat. The shattered rear window was filled with a huge tree. Splinters dotted the remaining glass and a distant lightning flash illuminated a huge gaping split in the tree trunk.
I popped open my seat belt. “We had a wreck. Check Sophie.”
The car vibrated with a low groan that shook our seats, and the sharp noise of cracking wood.
“Hang on! It’s coming down!” I put my hands over my head and ducked.
Mallory reached for Sophie as tree limbs suddenly appeared in all the windows.
Boom!
Half the roof compressed into the cabin, shattering the windows and scattering glass in all directions.
I unclenched my teeth and tried to lift my head. It pressed against the ceiling. Drops of cold rain fell on my arm.
Miraculously, the tree trunk had fallen diagonally across the car. It smashed the roof between the front and back seats, but didn’t directly hit any of the occupants.
I peered at the front passenger seat as water splattered onto it. The tree had crushed the seat. Anyone sitting there would have been killed. Mallory’s habit of riding in back with Sophie had saved her.
Sophie.
My stomach dropped. I whipped around and lowered my head to see between the seats in the dim light. Mallory clawed at the child seat restraint. Sophie’s head lay on her chest at an awkward angle.
Mallory strained against her own seat belt. “Sophie! Sophie!”
I was cut off from them by the smashed roof. Mallory lurched backward and undid her seat belt, then pushed her way through the spilled cooler to the child seat.
“Sophie,” she whispered, easing her hands under our daughter’s chin.
Mallory gently lifted Sophie’s head. I opened my mouth to caution about neck injuries, but there was no stopping her.
Sophie’s eyes rolled and then opened.
Mallory froze. I held my breath.
Sophie blinked. “Are we there?”
I collapsed in relief on the console. She had slept through the whole thing.
Mallory laughed and unbuckled her. “Good girl.” They hugged. “Good girl.”
I sighed. We had come down the hill slow enough to avoid injuries.
“Dad.” Sophie held up a wet arm. “Put the window up.”
“We can’t honey,” Mallory said. “The window is broken. We wrecked the car.”
Sophie frowned at me. “Why did you do that?”
We all laughed, including Sophie—even if she wasn’t quite sure what was funny about it.
“Good thing Sparkles stayed at the neighbors,” she added.
I instructed Mallory to check herself for any hidden pains that she might feel now that the initial shock was over, and then check Sophie as
best she could. I tried to open my door. It moved a little, and with some effort I was able to pry it open. The car’s overhead dome light—now barely six inches above the driver’s seat arm rest—illuminated the wet ground.
Our headlights shined upwards toward the highway. Other than that, it was nearly black all around. Up on that curve, other drivers would be able to see our headlights. Leaving them on would attract attention.
I reached in and turned on the emergency flashers. That would send an unmistakable signal that we needed help down below.
Putting my hands on my hips, I squinted through the rain at the hill. I was probably going about fifty miles per hour when I hit the curve. It was so slight, no guard rail had been erected. I turned to face the wreck. We’d slid down the hill, losing momentum until we hit the trees.
I shook my head. Any faster and we would have been killed by the impact; any slower and we might have rolled over coming down the hill.
I pushed my wet hair out of my eyes. I didn’t know how much, if any, of the first tree was still blocking the highway. I thought I might have hit part of it, but everything happened pretty fast. I might have knocked it out of the road, but either way, the rest of it was probably still up there causing a hazard.
In the car, Mallory was barely visible under the smashed roof.
I put my hand on the door frame. “Honey, I need to go check the road and see if the tree I hit is still there.”
“Why?” She glared at me. “We need you here.”
“If another car hits it, they might end up down here on top of us. I just want to go check. I’ll be quick.” I checked around the car. It might be a while before any help came. “If you guys are okay, try to find something to keep dry with, and maybe put some of our stuff back in the cooler.”
The grass near the hill was soaking wet and muddy. My feet sunk with each step. Slogging up the incline, I reached the curve.
The highway was empty. There were no cars or distant headlights coming, no road noises—and no tree, either. I must have taken it down the hill with us. I peered through the rain at the split roads to the muddy hill on the other side. I guess the tree slid off from there. A few others were leaning, like they might be coming down soon, too. Between the rain-softened soil and the wind, the heavy tree must have slipped right off.
I couldn’t see much. The tree probably went over the hill with us and disappeared into the darkness somewhere.
The rain smacked the asphalt all around me, hissing like skillet full of bacon. As it rinsed the mud off the road, I stared up at the sloping hillside. That tree had to come down just right to even be on the highway at all.
A jolt of fear shot through me.
Unless it had been done on purpose.
I stared down the hill at the Navigator, blocking the glare of the headlights with my hand. Mallory and Sophie were alone down there. If the tree had been a trap, it had worked to get me to leave them alone and defenseless.
My heart pounded as I sprinted across the highway, slipping and sliding my way down the hill. The wind pushed me sideways as I pulled each mud-laden footstep from the soggy ground.
Lightning gave me a good look at the damage. The rear of the Navigator was smashed, as was the roof, but the tree had fallen onto the car and more or less rolled off the passenger side. That’s why I was able to get out.
When I got to the car, it was empty. The wind whipped my face as I glanced around. “Mallory?”
“Back here!” Mallory had gotten Sophie and herself into some plastic ponchos, and the two of them were sitting on the cooler behind the car. Cold, heavy drops beat down on all three of us.
I yelled over the noise of the rain. “You guys okay?”
The plastic hoods bobbed up and down.
“It smells like gas in the car, really strong,” Mallory said. “I think the spare gas cans may be leaking.”
A pang of fear gripped my gut. If gasoline was leaking, it could become a fire hazard. That’s why you’re not supposed to drive around with cans of gas in your car. That, and the risk of explosion in a wreck.
Thunder rumbled overhead.
The Navigator was a loss as a vehicle now, but it might have kept us out of the elements. The leaking gas cans spoiled that and would ruin our spare clothes and supplies if it got on them.
I looked at Mallory. “I’ll try to pull the cans out. If they did spill, it won’t be safe to sit inside the car. The fumes are dangerous to breathe.”
She stared blankly at me. “That’s why we’re out here in the rain, sweetie.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. Then I turned back to the car. “Ohhhkay.”
I reached through the broken rear window and grabbed one of the heavy gas cans. The smell of gasoline hit me in the face. I climbed onto the rear bumper and grabbed the roof rack, straining to pull the wet can through the broken window. They were heavy enough to lift into the car with two hands when the tailgate was operational. With it smashed shut, I strained to hoist each can over the tailgate and through the broken glass.
Overhead, the lightning intensified. The storm was coming closer.
I leaned on the side of the car, sweating and trying to assess our situation. Gas fumes aside, we would be better off in the car. Wet seats would be more comfortable than the wet ground if we had to spend the night. We’d be safer inside than being out in the storm—if we didn’t get sick from the smell. Lightning was everywhere, and it might hit one of the nearby trees. If it did, the roof of the Navigator had already proven sturdy enough. If trees attract lightning, being under them was a liability.
I peered at the caved-in wreck. No windows, rain coming in on all sides, and filled with toxic gasoline fumes. I took a deep breath and stood up. Mallory and Sophie could wait by the car while I took a flashlight and tried to wave down a passing vehicle. I peered at the dark highway and sighed.
If there are any passing vehicles.
A quick check of the Navigator’s floor produced my cell phone. No signal. We were either out of range or the towers were down. No surprise there—it was rough enough to knock down every tower from here to Tampa.
The nagging unease in my gut wouldn’t go away. The tree, the rain—if something was determined to get us, we had allowed ourselves to become sitting ducks, just as Mallory had predicted.
I swallowed hard. I had allowed us to become sitting ducks. She would have had us sitting on our nice dry couch at home.
A bright flash of lightning ripped across the sky, blinding me. I crouched, almost falling to the ground. The thunder clap that accompanied it was like a cannon shot in my ears. The lightning was close, its rumbling echo rolling through the tree tops. The flash illuminated a clearing a little farther down the hill. It was horseshoe shaped, with a stump off to one side.
I breathed hard in the falling rain. The skies roared, reloading. Clouds churned and boiled while the wind whipped my face. The tree tops banged into each other like wind chimes.
I had gas cans sitting on one side of my car and a tree sitting across the other side. My wife and daughter were sitting on a cooler, cowering—and nobody in the greater Atlanta metropolitan area was out on the road. With a flashlight in one hand and a worthless cell phone in the other, I’d had enough.
I stood in the mud and cursed at the sky. “What do you want from me? What do you want?”
The skies rumbled their reply.
Stepping toward the clearing, I held out my hands. “Isn’t it enough that you ruined the old man at the winery? That you nearly killed that young woman there?” I gripped my flashlight and spit into the wind. “You killed Tyree! What did he ever do?”
The wind ripped at me, pushing me—but I kept walking.
“I’m here now! Is that what you wanted?” I wiped the rain from my eyes. “Well here I am! What do you want?”
A flash of lightning blasted the ground a few feet away from me.
I jumped backward, my heart in my throat. Adrenaline surged through me.
Shaking, I
continued walking into the clearing toward the stump. “I’m not afraid of you! Is that all you’ve got? Lightning?” I forced a laugh. “You could have used that on me at the beach! Come on, come get me!”
Each step drew me closer to the clearing and further from my wife and child.
I threw my hands in the air. “Show yourself, you damned coward!”
A blast of lightning lit up the ground, knocking me to my knees. I shook my head, my ears ringing. Mallory waved and screamed at me to come back.
I glared at the sky. The rain was coming straight down, and I could make out thick round clouds. Lightning rippled back and forth between them as the thunder groaned like a monster.
My heart was in my throat. I was never going to be much more vulnerable than I was at that moment. If the demon was here, it wasn’t making its move. Why was it waiting?
I looked around. The grass of the clearing offered no cover for protection, just a stump.
I clenched my fists. “I’ve had enough, do you hear me? Enough running, enough being afraid.” If something was going to happen, it was time to make it happen. Time to make a stand.
I gritted my teeth and bolstered myself, willing to confront whatever was coming.
And I stood, alone in the clearing, hoping to make a difference. My heart pounded. Like in the parking lot with Muscle T and the bar manager, I was ready to—
A long ripple of lightning rolled across the clouds, illuminating the clearing—horseshoe shaped with a stump. I recognized it. The one from the lion dream.
My breath left me. This was it. This was where it was supposed to happen. Here, in this wet ground—the fourth lion. The fourth tragedy.
I swallowed hard. I’d come unprepared. I had nothing to fight back with. My heart sank.
And yet . . .
I squinted at the night sky. If I was so vulnerable, why didn’t it make its move?
We’d caught the demon off guard. Like Tyree had advised, the dark angel wasn’t ready yet. And if he wasn’t ready, he might be able to be provoked.