It was so cold and dark and rank and just flat-out evil that everything in me wanted to turn back.
But I didn’t.
I kept pushing, weaving between them like an earthworm among anacondas.
Finally I broke through. I charged into the school on a straight path to Harding’s office.
But wait.
Why were the Creepers flooding the building now, filling the foyer like frenzied maniacs?
I turned, and in walked Dan. He stopped in the middle of the crowded foyer, then slipped his arms out of a camo-print hunting jacket, releasing it to the floor. No cocky grin. No words or expression on his face at all.
Just hate in his eyes.
And two rifles strapped to his back.
FORTY-FOUR
THERE WAS NO TIME TO REACT. No way to warn people or tackle him in time.
Dan reached over his shoulder and clutched one of the weapons, then aimed it at the mass of students. It happened in an instant, but I somehow still managed to think about it . . .
The unsuspecting parents, devastated for life. The siblings left behind, forever regretting not saying good-bye this morning. Flags lowered to half-mast from coast to coast.
I’d witnessed untold terror for weeks now. But this . . .
I literally could not breathe.
It seemed like slow motion.
Dan racking the rifle.
A few wide-eyed students attempting to run.
Then the ear-shattering blasts. The screams.
The collapsing bodies.
It was like a dream—a far-removed experience. Stella Murphy got struck in the back and hit the cold floor.
Dan stormed deeper into the school. I knew there would be more casualties with every passing second.
I scrambled for a plan, a way to stop the massacre, but the shock of it all was working against me. Once again I was helpless, standing there while Molek’s merciless assault unfolded.
Some students rushed past me, managing to run outside, while others tried to hide, crouching under tables, behind wall columns—whatever they could find. But I hadn’t come here to save myself.
“Owen!” Ray Anne charged toward me from a side hallway, but she stopped short, dropping to the floor next to a crumpled form. I saw that it was Ashlyn, in anguish, clinging to life.
Ray Anne grabbed her hand, weeping. “It’s okay. I’m here—I won’t leave you!”
Principal Harding’s voice trembled over the intercom: “Lockdown, lockdown, shooter in the building—this is not a drill, I repeat, not a drill!”
Classroom doors were slamming all over the building.
I could still hear Dan firing off shots, in the main hallway now. There were Creepers everywhere, but a horde had left the foyer with him, a massive entourage of evil that had pressed in around him the second he’d aimed his weapon.
Finally the rapid gunfire ceased, and I heard Dan yell, “Jess! Where are you?”
Ray Anne looked up at me and gasped.
I had to find Jess. I wasn’t afraid to search for her through the body-strewn hallways. What scared me was the thought of getting to Jess but still having no way to protect her.
“No,” I scolded myself. “No fear.”
I took off running up a nearby stairwell. I was sure Dan would look for her in our first-period class, and even though the odds were way against me, I set out to beat him there. Hopefully she was locked inside the classroom, but I had no way of knowing what he was capable of—what deadly forces had been set into motion before this day ever dawned.
As I hurried down the second-story hall, there was no sign of Dan, but he’d definitely been here—his victims were scattered on the floor. Yet there were Watchmen present—some were standing guard in front of closed classroom doors. Others were on bent knee next to injured students.
I kept running, trying not to let the horror of it all steal my focus.
As I passed the library, someone said my name. I turned fast, and there was Lance, slumped against the wall, with a blood-soaked shoulder and a leg so shattered, the bone was exposed. All the color had drained from his face.
I ran to him and dropped to my knees. “Lance . . .” I could hear sirens closing in. “Help’s coming—hang on!” My grudge against him seemed so petty now. So cold blooded.
As if he hadn’t been brutalized enough, several Creepers scurried around him, whispering cruelties to his traumatized soul. But I stayed close.
His eyes started to roll back in his head like he was losing consciousness. “Help me, God,” he muttered. Then barely mouthed it again. I’d never known Lance to be the praying type, but . . .
A radiant Watchman came charging toward us, sending Lance’s tormentors into hiding. He wore a platinum breastplate on top of flowing white garments, but no armor beyond that. I gladly moved out of his way and watched through squinted eyes as he knelt down, then placed one giant hand on Lance’s wounded shoulder, the other on his mangled leg.
I had no doubt this Watchman was far stronger than any Creeper, but it didn’t look like he was here to fight. My own aching body found instant relief in his presence, convincing me he’d brought some of heaven’s healing to earth.
To Lance.
I didn’t want to move, but then a scream jerked me to my feet. Dan emerged from a restroom at the end of the hall, dragging Jess out with him, a rifle pressed into her side. A crowd of Creepers led the way as he pulled her into a stairwell.
As I ran that way I noticed Jess’s spilled purse caught in the restroom door, her inhaler visible among the clutter. I grabbed it and started down the stairs, holding out hope that a battalion of armored Watchmen or a team of police—ideally both—would storm our school any second and confront Dan.
Dan stepped off the bottom step onto the lower floor and yanked Jess behind the first door he came to—a backstage entrance to the auditorium.
I hurried to the door, took a deep breath, then opened it fast and stepped inside. I looked left and caught a glimpse of Dan and Jess nearing the end of a long, narrow hallway infested with Creepers. The door automatically closed behind me.
It was pitch black now.
I reached for my cell, but it was gone from my pocket. I couldn’t see a thing.
I thought I heard Jess crying, but it was hard to tell. The Creepers were in an uproar, shrieking and hissing. But Dan couldn’t hear all that, so I had to step lightly.
I put one foot in front of the other, moving through the dark hallway—as black as the pit I’d seen Meagan fall into. I felt movement all around me and loathed the thought that I couldn’t see the Creepers but they could see me.
Then again, that had been my reality before I’d drunk from the well. Humanity’s predicament.
It was like I was inching my way through a haunted tunnel, blindfolded and alone.
I ran the tips of my fingers along the walls to guide me. It was so chilly in here my teeth started chattering. But I kept going—until my hand grazed something ice cold and slimy. I muzzled my mouth with my other hand, determined not to make a sound.
There was no telling what I’d just touched, but I couldn’t stop now. I was sure I could hear Jess gasping.
I moved forward again but kept my hands wrapped around my gut. Suddenly I was surrounded by dim red light. I could see now that I’d made it backstage, and an overhead set of stage lights had been flipped on. I could hear Jess crying hard, and she seemed close now.
Rows of black curtains hung along the side of the stage. I took careful steps between them—and there she was. Center stage. Dan’s terrified hostage.
I spotted Dan. Unfortunately, he’d seen me, too. “I knew you’d come for her,” he said. He stood stiffly behind Jess, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other clutching a rifle. She was panting, looking like she was about to pass out.
I held up the inhaler and stepped forward, straining to keep my voice calm. “Dan, her asthma . . . She has to have this.”
“She’s meant to die today. Wi
th me.”
I took another slow step. “No one is meant to die here today.”
Creepers closed in around us, and I could see now that Dan’s eyes weren’t right. Pupils off center and corrupted. It was Rage again, looking at me from inside Dan.
“Let her go.” I lifted both hands now. “Take me instead.”
“She stays with me!” He was sweaty, his voice erratic. “I’m in control here!”
“No.” I swallowed hard. “You’re being controlled.”
Dan narrowed his eyes, then shoved Jess to the ground, freeing up his hands to aim the gun at my head. He racked the rifle, and I saw the moment for what it was—the final second of my life. A signal to Molek to come confiscate my soul.
But when Dan noticed Jess starting to crawl away, he pointed the gun at her. “You think you can leave me, Jess?”
She froze, laboring even harder to suck in air.
This was it. Time to make my move.
I tossed the inhaler toward Jess and rushed forward, knocking Dan to the ground so hard that the back of his head slammed onto the stage. The gun fell from his hands, and I reached for it, but he grabbed the other rifle and bashed me in the temple with it. I fell onto my back and he rolled on top of me, shoving the rifle barrel under my chin, his snakelike eyes inches from mine. I thought for sure a bullet was about to rip through me, but I threw a fast punch and busted his nose, sending him to the floor, a bleeding mess.
Both of us reached for weapons and scrambled to our feet.
We stood at the same time, facing one another, out of breath, clutching rifles.
Aimed at each other.
Blood poured from my forehead where Dan had struck me, dripping into my eyes and down my cheek, but I didn’t dare take a hand off the gun. “This is between you and me.” My finger stayed on the trigger. “It doesn’t involve her.”
I could hear Jess taking hits from her inhaler and hoped she’d have the strength soon to run.
“Ready to die, Owen?” Dan asked. That instant, the spectating Creepers all hit the floor, faces down, while one of the shadows behind Dan charged toward him, taking shape behind his back.
Molek.
I wasn’t sure I could pull the trigger before Dan pulled his, and I knew bullets were no match for the real assassin in the room. But I kept my rifle pointed at Dan, poised to shoot.
The Lord of the Dead extended an arm, and one of Dan’s chains lifted into the air—raised up by itself—until the cuff hit Molek’s wrist, then snapped shut like the slamming of freight train doors.
“Shoot him!” he hissed in Dan’s ear, looking at me. “He deserves to die.”
Then Molek moved toward me, gliding behind my back. It took everything I had to keep my eyes forward.
Another clash of metal, then Molek’s voice echoed in my ears and inside my head. “Shoot him! He deserves to die.”
Same vengeance. Different target.
The tempter moved out from behind me, and I could finally see it—a sickening glimpse of my captivity. Chain links stretched from behind me, attached to Molek’s wrist. Same as Dan’s.
There Dan and I stood. Two weapons, ready to fire. One dark lord, bound to us both, enticing us to destroy one another.
Believe me, I wanted to pull the trigger. But that’s what Molek wanted too.
And I couldn’t stomach letting him get his way.
There was the sudden muffled sound of men’s voices, then a door flung open—the same door I’d entered through. Footsteps now stormed our way.
“The cops are here.” I lowered my weapon an inch. “We have to put our weapons down.”
I didn’t survive this standoff with Dan just to get shot by police. How would they know which of us was the shooter?
Dan was cracking under the pressure, shaking so bad now that he struggled to aim his rifle.
Molek moved in on his weakened prey—he jerked away from my chain and rushed at Dan, cursing and demanding that he not surrender. When Dan started to tear up, Molek snapped. He ran at Dan and slammed into him.
Inside of him.
That second, Dan kicked my legs out from under me with superhuman speed and strength, then aimed his rifle once again. My weapon fell from my hands and slid across the floor, out of reach.
I’d thought for sure that whoever I’d heard approaching would have intervened by now. But no. I’d been outplayed, outmaneuvered by an immortal mass murderer and a fanatical human being who’d rather kill than not get his way.
I closed my eyes tight, unwilling to look at Dan’s possessed face while he blasted my soul into eternal death.
“You’re mine,” he said.
The shot was so loud. So fast I felt nothing.
I didn’t move. Just waited for my heart to stop.
Another shot.
But then came something else—multiple sets of doors slammed open at the back of the auditorium. I looked over and saw police rushing toward the stage, the blinding glare of flashlights coming at me.
Jess wailed now, somewhere behind me.
I gazed down at myself—I couldn’t see a wound. And then it registered: I hadn’t been struck by a bullet.
I stood and spotted him—Dan, backed into the side-stage curtains, on his knees. He aimed his rifle again . . .
At himself.
There was trauma in his eyes, but they were his own again. Molek had left him to die by himself, Suicide looming over him.
I held my breath, hoping Jess wouldn’t see this. But before Dan could pull the trigger, armed men overtook him and pinned him to the ground.
I lifted my hands fast in surrender, then turned, hoping to get a glimpse of Jess before the authorities restrained me. Jess was behind me, cradling a limp body in her lap. A girl with blonde hair . . .
Ray Anne.
Not moving.
Her blouse soaked with blood.
“She jumped on top of me!” Jess cried to the police. “When Dan started shooting!”
I was already collapsing when officers rushed me. Already crushed before my face ever hit the floor.
FORTY-FIVE
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG FOR the cops to realize I was innocent. They let me up just in time to run to Ray Anne. She was on a gurney, being whisked out a back door by EMTs into the parking lot.
I followed them outside into the chaos—a blur of first responders, the campus perimeter lined with news crews and distraught onlookers.
I made it over to her. “I’m so sorry, Ray!” The words tore from the depths of my soul. “It should have been me.”
Her hand moved like she wanted to reach out to me, but she was too weak.
An EMT warned me to get my hands off her and to make it quick. The Life Flight helicopter was closing in overhead.
“Please hold on, Ray Anne.”
I fought against the light-headedness and shock attempting to overtake me.
She managed to whisper, “Is Jess . . . ?”
“She’s safe. Because of you.”
She couldn’t open her eyes, but her lips moved. “Pray.”
I’d have done anything for her. Anything. But . . .
“I . . . I don’t know how.” My heart was exploding with raw emotion.
I put my ear above her lips, hanging on her every breath. “Don’t leave me.” I cried it again and again. But there was no response.
I gazed into the sweetest face I’d ever known, fearing the worst. She was so pale now, drifting away in front of me.
I wouldn’t let her leave this world without it—without a first and final kiss. From me. I leaned in, but a heavy hand gripped my shoulder. Another paramedic. “We have to take her now.” He turned to the EMT beside him. “We’re losing her.”
There was only one thing I could do.
One thing left I knew to say . . .
“I love you, Ray.”
And then they took her away from me.
A police officer grabbed me and escorted me to an ambulance. Under the bright lights, a paramedic
examined the gash on my forehead. I kept asking what city hospital they were taking Ray Anne to, but no one would answer me.
A sheriff approached. “I’m told you stood up to the perpetrator. Cornered him until our men arrived.”
I couldn’t bring myself to nod.
“You should be proud, young man.” He patted me on the shoulder.
I’d never been less proud in my life.
They wanted to take me to the local ER and stitch up my face, but I said no. I staggered out of the ambulance into the pandemonium, nauseated and weak. The press was swarming. It seemed like all of Masonville was there, watching. There were ambulances everywhere, filling with students. Lance was among them.
There were a few Creepers scouting the area, but most of them had moved on, their master plan carried out. The crazed redhead stood among the crowd—nothing more than a bait and switch that the wicked forces had used today to throw me off.
Jess called to me from inside an ambulance. “Owen! Here.” Still trembling and crying, she held Ray Anne’s leather journal out to me. “I found this on the floor. I think she dropped it.”
I took it and clutched it to my chest. Jess tried to thank me, but I was desperate to be alone. I removed myself from the crowd and sirens and flashing lights, taking one laborious step after another away from Masonville High. I saw my mom in the distance, peering at the school with the other hysterical parents. But I kept going, wandering into the tall grass, then the woods.
This was my property, my land to protect, and I’d failed. Failed every student at my school—dead or alive.
I walked deep into the woods, allowing myself the freedom to cry, to give in to the bitter pain.
I’d been played.
From day one, those Creepers that had been tracking me—Murder, Faithless, Lust—they’d had an agenda bigger than me. Of course they had; I was no threat to them. The one they really wanted was Ray Anne.
They’d been banking on my bad influence to weaken her so they could get a foothold into her life. But they’d underestimated her. Her faith.
The Delusion Page 28