Water splashed against the window of Dex’s room.
Maybe this was more serious than he thought. Where the hell is Mom?
An emergency alert came over the TV, interrupting his train of thought. It reiterated much of the same information Peter Jennings had already gone over, but then a familiar face filled the screen.
Father Marcus?
“Citizens of Key Largo,” he said, “I have prayed for all of you. You are my flock, my friends. I care a great deal for you and wish to open my house to you. For those of you who have not yet evacuated, I fear that moment for escape has passed. There is no Ark from Noah to save us from the Devil’s fury that is surely inbound.
“Please, wait no longer. Come join me in the storm shelter beneath Saint Augustine’s. There is plenty of food and water for all those left in Key Largo. Wait no longer. The storm is coming.”
The feeling of impending doom scared the shit out of Dex. Alone, in his room, he sat staring at Father Marcus’ face. His crooked smile was untrustworthy, like that of a used car salesman. But at least the church was an option. He rose from his bed to peer out the covered window.
Before reaching the window, the glass exploded. Shards of the sharp glass flew through the air. Some of the pieces struck Dex in the face, ripping gashes both large and small, and Dex screamed. Blood trickled from the wounds. More glass shards pounded his body.
Something crashed repeatedly into the house. Thud. Thud. Thud.
What the fuck?
Dex wiped the blood from his face, and a flash of red smashed into the broken window, stopped only by the thick wood frame of the small window.
He flinched. “Holy shit!”
Pinned to the window was a STOP sign. Its reflective white letters lit up from the light of the television.
“Fuck—I think we waited too long.”
“Mary! Mary! Get up!” Dex yelled.
“What the hell, Dex? Leave me alo… Holy shit! What happened to your face?”
“The storm busted out the window and I got all cut up. Listen, there is no time to argue. Get up and pack a bag right now. You have to HURRY!”
“Oh my God! Alright. I’ll hurry. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. The cuts aren’t too deep I don’t think. I’ll go clean up in the other bathroom,” Dex said.
“Where are we going?”
“There isn’t time to talk about this right now. Please Mary, go!” he screamed over the howling wind.
Dex saw the worry on Mary’s face. What thirteen-year-old wouldn’t be? After all, they were trapped in the path of an impending hurricane and their mom had been gone, presumably fucking some random dude, for almost a week.
Dex waited until Mary left the room to go clean himself up. He slowly pulled a few pieces of embedded glass out of his face and chest. His face contorted in pain as he tugged on each piece. Blood trickled down his face. He grabbed a white hand towel and soaked it in hot water. After he removed each piece, he pressed it to the area to help stop the bleeding.
More often than not, the pressure from the towel revealed another piece of glass hidden under the skin’s surface.
“Ouch. FUCK!” he yelled as the towel revealed yet another shard. This one required a pair of tweezers to remove. Carefully, he plucked out the shrapnel. More blood leaked from his face. He thought that was the last one, though, and at least that provided a small bit of relief.
He wrung out the blood-soaked towel, re-wet it with fresh water, and gave his face one last rub, just to make sure he got everything. Just as he finished, the lights went out.
Fuck.
“Mary! Hurry up. The power is out and we need to get out of here now!” he yelled up the stairs.
Another sound of breaking glass came from upstairs.
“Mary?” he yelled up the stairs.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs and she flew into view.
“You ready?” he asked, relieved that she was okay.
“Yeah, that was the window in my room. Are we going to be okay?
“We’ll be fine. You just have to do what I say. Can you do that? Can you be brave?”
Mary nodded, her bag clasped tightly in her right hand, a teddy bear clutched tightly in the other.
“Good girl. Let’s go,” he said.
They rushed through the house, making their way to the garage, and Mary followed closely behind Dex. Things slammed into the exterior of the house. Dex hoped they could get to the church okay.
Seconds later, the two leapt into the front seats of Dex’s Jeep. It was nowhere as nice as his mom’s, but it was his and he liked it. He reached up and clicked the button on the garage door opener. Nothing happened. He clicked it harder, a few more times.
Nothing…
“Shit. The power is out. Hold on, Mary, I have to get out and open the door.”
Mary clung to the stuffed bear in her lap, squeezing it so tight that it looked like it might pop at any moment. Dex patted her head and hopped out. He rushed to the door and ripped it open, revealing the fresh load of Hell outside.
Water flew sideways through the air, bringing with it debris of all shapes and sizes. A palm frond whipped in front of his face. He leaned out of the garage, tracking the larger pieces and was promptly struck by another. He returned to the Jeep and looked at Mary.
“Hold on, kiddo. This is going to be a rough ride.”
“Where are we going?” she asked again.
“Oh, sorry. Father Marcus was on TV and said Saint Augustine’s had plenty of room in the shelter and loads of food and water. I think it’s too dangerous to leave the Keys, so…”
“Oh, good. That’s not too far, either.”
“That’s a good thing too.”
Dex turned the Jeep over and it roared to life. With one more rev, he slammed the stick shift into first and dumped the clutch. The Jeep lurched from the garage as the tires broke and regained traction.
Once out of the safety of the garage, the Jeep bounced over the piles of debris that covered the ground. Dex gripped the wheel, white-knuckle tight. He swerved rather expertly around the larger objects while busting through the others.
As the vehicle changed direction, so did the rain. The open-topped vehicle quickly soaked with a mix of rain and the salty seawater. Mary was now pleading to hurry. Dex could see that she was soaked, as was he, but she was shivering already.
He shifted and slammed his foot back onto the pedal, bottoming it out on the floorboards. The engine revved. Dex reached to turn up the open-top vehicle’s heater just as a telephone pole cracked under the pressure of the wind. The pole toppled and slammed to the ground directly in the Jeep’s path.
“Shit!” Dex screamed, jerking the wheel hard to the left and slamming on the brakes. “Hold on!”
The Jeep slid, hydroplaning across the water’s surface. It spun out of control and slammed violently into a yellow curb lining the road’s edge. The rear passenger’s side dropped down, stopping the Jeep. The vehicle rested awkwardly, the nose perched much higher than the rear.
Dex checked to make sure Mary was okay. She was, so he unfastened her seatbelt and they jumped out. He grabbed their bags. And they ran. Just a few blocks from Saint Augustine’s, they ran hard. Occasionally they tripped and stumbled, but neither fell.
Before they knew it, they were standing in the parking lot of the church. They pushed on, scanning the lot for flying debris, ducking what flew near them. Then he saw it.
“Oh my God. Look, Mary. Mom’s Jeep.”
“Awesome, let’s get in there and find out why the hell she left us at home ALONE!”
“Relax. First let’s get safe, then we’ll deal with the other stuff.”
“Fine,” she said, picking up the pace.
They burst through the church doors with a percussive bang.
*
Dex and Mary were welcomed into Saint Augustine’s with open arms by Father Marcus. They were issued a cot as well as a few towels and some snacks t
o tide them over until dinner. The shelter was not much more than a large concrete bunker underneath the church. It served its purpose, though. It felt… safe.
Dex and Mary set up their cots together. There must have been a couple hundred other townsfolk there already. Many were settled in and sat conversing with each other, talking about all manner of things.
Prior to setting up their cots, both Mary and he had searched the area for their mother. Neither found any sign of her. They decided that she had to be here somewhere and they would take turns searching for her after they dried off and settled in.
Shortly after they were dry-ish, Father Marcus paid them a visit.
“Welcome, my children,” he opened with. “I trust you are settling in okay?”
“Yes, Father,” Dex said. Without hesitation he blurted, “Have you seen my mother? Her Jeep is outside, but I can’t find her.”
“I did see her, several days ago. Around the fourteenth, I believe. She was here for prayers and confession. I waited for her to finish praying, but she never showed up for confession. I assumed that she left afterwards. Ask around, though. This shelter is large and I don’t get around well. It is possible that I missed her.”
Father Marcus retrieved something from his pocket. He opened his hand and presented his open palm to them. Two butterscotch candies and a pair of skeleton keys lay in his palm.
“Please, have a piece of candy,” Father Marcus said.
The children obliged and took the candies, leaving the keys.
“Thank you, Father,” they said. They hurriedly unwrapped the sweets and popped them into their mouths.
Over the next couple days, Mary and he took turns walking around the shelter, looking for their mother. Unfortunately, no one they spoke with had any recollection of seeing her. At least they were warm, dry, and safe.
Until the generator stopped. The lights flickered, and… died.
*
Saint Augustine Church, Key Largo, Florida—Sunday, August 23, 1992
One day before…
Father Marcus spoke, “Fear not, my parishioners, candles are being distributed as I speak.”
Sure enough, candles began to light tiny patches of the shelter one or two at a time. This didn’t stop children from screaming and crying. No, it incited the raucous noise. Sounds echoed deafeningly off the cold stone walls.
A scream resonated off the high ceiling. This one wasn’t from a child, but rather, from a man. It was immediately followed by a loud snap.
“What the hell was that?” Dex asked.
“I don’t know. I think it came from somewhere above. Maybe up in the ceiling supports,” Mary said.
Sounds of wood creaking filled the air. And a gust of wind ripped through the basement shelter, blowing out all of the freshly lit candles. Several more snaps came from above, frightening the parishioners. Dex heard them gasping.
“What the fuck?” Dex said. “Let’s move to the walls in case the ceiling collapses.”
He stood and felt Mary do the same. The air was again still inside the room. Something dripped down Dex’s left, arm and he instinctively reached out to wipe it off.
A viscous liquid with a new, strange odor filled his nostrils.
What the fuck…
The candles in the room lit, one at a time. He fumbled with the packet of matches they’d been given and struck a match and put it to the wick. A small area around them illuminated. Mary gasped.
“Look at your arm, Dex. Is that blood?”
“What? No. Don’t be stu…” his voice trailed off. The liquid that dripped down his arm was a deep red. Not like a nose bleed. He’d had his fair share of those. This red was different. Darker. Thicker.
Another volley of drops struck his arm. Shocked, he jerked it away from the drips. He raised his candle up and looked into the darkness. He couldn’t see a damn thing.
“Shit. Can you tell where it’s coming from?” he asked.
“No. I can’t see a fucking thing,” she answered.
“Mary… Watch your mouth. The Father is in here somewhere,” he reprimanded.
“Sorry.”
“I have an idea. Stand up on your cot. I’ll give you my candle and raise you up on my shoulders. I don’t want whatever this shit is dripping on me all night.”
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said.
Dex hoisted her up and she raised the candles high and waved them around searching for the source. They lit up very little.
“What do you see, Mary?”
“Nothing. It’s way too dark. OH FUCK! DEX! HELP ME! PUT ME DOWN NOW!” she screamed.
Dex dropped her. She was still screaming and shaking violently.
“What is it? What did you see?”
Mary wrapped herself tightly around Dex’s torso, bawling.
“Mary, tell me what you saw.”
“There is a man—HANGING—up there,” she sputtered.
“What?” he asked.
“A fucking dead guy, Dex. Some dude hung himself and is swinging up there,” she cried.
“Then this is blood? Oh, Jesus!”
“HELP US!” Dex screamed. “Father Marcus!”
More and more candles were lit, illuminating the room better. Dex hugged his sister tightly. Both of them tucked their heads into each other, blocking out the horrific sight of the dangling man.
Screaming filled the room as the brightness increased. Dex pulled Mary closer but raised his head to look at what had caused the commotion.
“Oh God! Don’t look, Mary.”
Three groups of men hung some fifteen or so feet above the crowd’s head. Dex felt sick. The men swung back and forth, occasionally bumping into one another. Dex counted six. Six men in each group. Six in each. Six, six, and six.
Parents all across the room covered their children’s eye. These were not just random men dangling from the ceiling. Dex recognized them as fathers, brothers, and sons to some of the others.
Chaos erupted. Those with sense charged the steps that had brought them down into the shelter. Two or three wide, they ascended the stone steps. Panic filled their candlelit faces.
The room was deafeningly loud and filled with the sense of impending doom. Dex watched the first few reach the top of the stairs. They fumbled with the knob, but it didn’t open. They slammed their shoulders into the door. The door stayed sealed shut.
Several new men took the others’ places, beating on the locked door. They slammed and kicked at it. Some hit it so hard they broke bones. Those injured were carried down the stairs, back through the crowd below. Back to where their families were, where their cots sat. Back to where the bodies hung.
Dex and Mary watched as the men’s injuries were treated as best they could be with no medical supplies. What kind of shelter has no medical supplies?
A new voice shouted over the roaring crowd.
“Stop, please. Stop! STOP!” the man’s voice screamed.
Somehow, it gained the attention of the entire room, even over the banging and panicking.
“This isn’t working. The door is stuck. Likely from something above. Probably the storm. We can’t just sit here and let the kids see these men hanging from the ceiling. Let’s cut them down and get them out of sight.”
“Has anyone seen Father Marcus? He may know if there is a ladder down here,” the man said.
No one answered him.
A woman from the crowd brought the man a long fiberglass pole.
“This was in the back. I think they hang Christmas lights with it,” she said.
“Thank you,” the man replied. “This helps, actually.”
Dex watched him pull a large pocket knife out and unfold it. The man cut a strip of sheet off of the cot next to him and used it to secure the knife to the pole.
“Grab a few blankets and the strongest of you will have to get under the men one at a time and catch the bodies as I cut them loose. They are already dead,” the man said. “So it won’t hurt them if you miss. Just don’t ge
t caught under them.”
Horror filled Dex’s eyes and the men took their places. The man raised the pole toward the first rope. He touched the knife to the rope and pushed the pole forward.
“ENOUGH!” a voice said echoing through the room. The church bells began to clang, signaling midnight. The sound was deafening. The candles flickered. Another gust ripped through the room and extinguished the flames—again.
*
Saint Augustine Church, Key Largo, Florida—Monday, August 24, 1992
The day of…
A glow of fire illuminated the area around the top of the stairs. A man clad in a dark robe entered the room and walked down several steps and stopped. A large orange flame engulfed his right hand. It danced back and forth, casting horrifying shadows over the room.
Shit… Dex eyed the staff in his left hand. It was a long golden rod with three bars crossing it at the top. Each bar was slightly shorter than the one below it. The staff itself was nearly as tall as the robed man that possessed it.
“Let us begin,” the robed man said.
The man raised the staff high into the air and clacked it onto the stone steps. A dark wave of energy shot out across the room. The bags of flesh hanging from the ceiling exploded into a fine, red mist that rained down onto the crowd below them.
Dex and Mary screamed, as did the rest of the crowd. The red liquid rained over everyone and covered them from head to toe in blood.
“SILENCE!” the robed man commanded. “Kneel before me.”
Some of the crowd did just that as looks of terror covered their faces. Others froze in place.
Dex was one of the latter, Mary the former.
“KNEEL!” the man commanded again, striking the stone with the heel of the staff.
That was all it took. Another wave of the same dark energy ripped through the crowd, much lower this time. It tore their legs out from under them, causing them to fall onto the blood-drenched floor. A second wave of energy crashed into Dex’s body and was quickly absorbed.
Where the man once stood, Dex watched as the robe fell to the floor, empty. The fire dropped to the floor as well but still burned brightly.
Never Fear - The Tarot: Do You Really Want To Know? Page 13