The Trilogy of the Void: The Complete Boxed Set

by Peter Meredith

  Rick tried his best to be small, to be inconsequential, to be something easily missed and forgotten, but he failed at this.

  A moment later, he felt the man standing over him again and his fear became everything. It settled into his bones, deep in the marrow and dug in anchors. Despite all of his attempts not to, he began to cry harder, though he still kept his eyes clamped shut with manic intensity. He kept picturing the knife there, poised just above his eye.

  However, the man didn't stab him. He hit him hard in the side of the head with his fist. The blow was so unexpected and delivered with such force, that all of his muscle relaxed immediately, and he went limp almost fluidly so, but he was still conscious.

  His eyes came open and the bedroom spun about, literally. He was picked up, turned around, and dropped heavily onto the wood chair that had come with his desk. He hadn't felt much pain before, only shock, but now the pain was huge. With his every breath, it raced across his chest, and again he felt the panic of suffocation. He tried to push himself up, but the priest was there, kneeling in front of his face.

  "I can't breathe," he said to the man in a panicky half-breath.

  "If you can talk, you can breathe," the man responded, and then grabbed Rick's left wrist and tied it to the back of the chair. He was using a spool of Rick's kite string and he cinched it down very tight, it pinched the skin and the pain was sharp and nasty, and for a moment, Rick forgot about the pain in his chest.

  He watched as the priest struggled to cut away the string with the dull knife and a little voice inside of him, prayed to die right there. His other hand was tied just as cruelly and then his ankles as well.

  The man stood behind him for a few moments and Rick felt terribly exposed, unable in any way to defend himself or even to squirm. His tears rained down in front of him, but disappeared, swallowed up in the old shag carpet.

  "No, you don't have time for this," the man said it quietly, to himself. He then moved to Rick's side and paused until Rick looked up at him. That's when he took the picture.

  "Perfect," Luke said, smiling at it. But then, he smiled down at Rick and his eyes were like pools filling with wickedness, deeper and deeper. He knelt to face Rick and grabbed up a pair of his socks. They were balled up, something his mother always insisted upon, something that had been important to her, Rick had never understood it.

  "I've decided that we do have time after all." This caused a fresh stir of panic in Rick, he looked up into the man's eyes and saw raw evil in them, and even at eleven years old, Rick could see his own death there.

  "Open your mouth wide...wider!" He brought the knife up and Rick's mouth went open its widest, the sock was shoved in, far back, too far, and Rick lost control of himself. He couldn't breathe and he struggled horribly around the sock and this time he felt he would certainly suffocate and in desperation, he whipped his head back and forth.

  But he didn't suffocate.

  However, the agonies of the sadistic atrocities he'd suffer in the next few minutes, culminating with that cruelly dull steak knife, sawing at his neck, had Will wishing he had.

  Chapter 24

  The Search for Terry

  Around the time that the brother and sister had been discussing looking into the future, Jim decided that he would burden them as little as possible with his presence. There seemed to be no reason for him to speak and barely any reason for him to even think, and he kept in the doorway that adjoined the rooms, where the possibility of escape from his tremendous shame was only a few steps away.

  The darkened room where his crime had taken place beckoned him, tempting him to hide there, amidst the wreckage that a giggling girl had wrought.

  However, Jim was too principled, too much of a man to hide from his sin. He had apologized and it had not been accepted. This was a good thing in his mind. He deserved to be punished; what he had unwittingly done had been too much for a simple, "I'm sorry" to fix. It didn't matter that it had been...an accident?

  Could he honestly call what had happened an accident?

  No, it wasn't an accident; he'd been played as a fool perfectly. The other Talitha had used his amazing stupidity and his obvious love to destroy any chance he'd ever have with the one girl that seemed so right, so perfect.

  Just then Will punched his own hand three times sharply right in a row and Jim smiled. He wasn't smiling at poor Will, who was trying to get himself mentally prepared to look into the future, he was smiling at his last thought. It was a bitter smile, full of self-loathing. Who was he fooling? He never had a chance with Talitha, not in a million years.

  A long sigh, heavy with emotion and weariness, slipped out of him then. It was loud, but seemed to go unnoticed as Will spoke.

  "Ok, this time for real, but I'm not going to count," he laughed, embarrassed. "I felt like a kid doing it that way."

  Now Will closed his eyes and seemed to relax and Jim tensed, expecting the same fireworks as had occurred earlier that afternoon, but nothing happened. At least, not right away. He simply fell back onto the mattress, as if asleep and his eyelids fluttered every few seconds. Very quickly, it seemed, the thirty seconds that Will had wished to be his limit for seeing into the future, were up. Talitha checked her watch and then his pulse.

  "Should I wake him up?" she asked Jim, but her face never left her brother.

  Jim poured out his soul: Talitha, you have to believe me! I would never have done that to you, had I known. Never in a million years would I do anything to hurt you and you don't have to say anything or even forgive me, but I want you to know, I'm truly sorry.

  This is what he wanted urgently to say above anything else, but instead, he whispered, "I dunno."

  She sagged at the two words and then turned toward him; still she didn't look up into his face. "Jim...we've gone through something that would normally take some time for us to come to terms with. However, I don't think we have that much time." Here she paused and finally looked at him, but now it was his turn to glance away. His shame was too great to meet her eyes.

  "Jim, look at me," she commanded softly. He did and saw that her face was pinched and strained, but also hard. "For now, let's put what happened behind us and deal with my brother, ok?"

  "Yeah," his voice was still a whisper.

  She turned away again. "This," she indicated her brother, "isn't how it was this afternoon was it? Your description of his actions is completely different."

  "Yeah...he was talking to me and...you know, seemed more aware. Then he went crazy, like I said."

  "Right. That's why I am loath to wake him just yet. Perhaps he hasn't come to the portion of his vision that has relevance." She said this slowly with calm reasoning, but her anxiety was mounting and she rechecked her watch.

  After another long minute of silence dragged out between them, with Will still only lying there with an occasional twitch, she said nervously, "It's been long enough. Will...hey Will!" She shouted at him. He didn't stir and she then climbed up on the bed next to him and shook him gently at first, but then with more energy as he failed to respond.

  "Will, wake up!" she yelled into his face, but then turned back to Jim and there was a hysteria written across her features. "Something's different, you have to tell me what it is."

  Jim saw nothing different except for the location and he didn't think that was the issue. "I don't know," he blurted out.

  "That's not good enough. You have to..." she stopped in mid-sentence as air exploded out of Will in a rush and the man's face went bright red.

  "Will...Will?" Talitha's eyes shot wide in alarm. "Oh my God, he's not breathing." She gave him a quick violent shake that had his head flopping about and then peered into his face, but only for a second. She then dragged him off the bed and onto the floor and it was then that they noticed he had begun breathing again. It was light and high up in his throat, but it was still breathing.

  "Will?" she asked with a little hesitating voice, there was no response. One at a time, she peeled back his eyes, holding h
er hand close and then pulling it away again looking for a reaction, but if she got one, Jim didn't see it.

  "Fill that coffee pot with cold water," she commanded. He rushed for it and she called out, "Please think. What's different?"

  This made Jim crazy with frustration and he gripped his head in both hands. "I don't know. He looked into the future, that's all I know." Leaving a wet trail, he brought the pot to her and she poured it over her brother's face, slow and deliberate.

  His body reacted, coughing weakly, but he was still gone mentally and Jim forgot his own troubles for a while as he stared down at the comatose man. "Should we call an ambulance?" he asked.

  "No, this is beyond them." Talitha looked up at him then and set her face into an odd smile, one that pleaded with him, and she spoke soothingly, "This may not help at all, I don't want you to feel any pressure. Did he say anything different? Did he speak in another language at all before looking?" Jim slowly shook his head at her and she went on, "Ok, how about you go down, who, what, why, where and how. Take your time, think slowly."

  Slowly was his only option when it came to thinking.

  He had always considered himself smarter than anyone around him ever believed he was, not that he felt he was a genius, instead at least average. But not around Talitha. When her eyes shown his way, it was as if a piano had landed on him, which is to say he felt his mind filled with hundreds of discordant notes and half notes that lingered, thrumming loudly. It made for difficult thinking.

  "The who is different. Before he was looking for you, not Luke," he said and she nodded encouragingly at this. "The uh, what...what, he didn't have a what this afternoon. He was all about finding out where you were going to be."

  "But now," she reasoned, and her eyes shot back to her brother. "He does have a what. He said he wanted to know what Luke was going to do."

  "Luke is a monster," Jim cried in dismay. "You saw what he did to those boys." The hideous memory came back to him, making him go weak and he went to the bed and sat down, staring at nothing.

  Talitha looked down at her brother appalled and suddenly cried hard, sobbing. "No, please no," she moaned repeatedly, and Jim longed to comfort her in some way, but felt he would make it worse if he were to touch her.

  Another minute passed, it had now been six since Will first closed his eyes and it was then that the air shot from his body again, it was less forceful, but equally as startling and Jim jumped a little at the sound.

  Talitha leaned back over him, dripping her tears across his face, "Will? Please come back, please. Don't leave me, please." Her begging shook Jim up and he had to choke back tears of his own and resist again the urge to go to her. For the next ten minutes, she knelt that way, over the still breathing form of her brother and those minutes stretched out in helpless misery as visions of the bound boys kept invading Jim's mind.

  Eventually Will began to twitch and make choking sounds deep in his throat, and this ended Talitha's tears. She no longer looked upon him helplessly, and now seemed poised for action, but there was as yet nothing for her to do.

  Will's choking became more pronounced with his Adam's apple working its way up and down, spasming under the skin of his neck so rapidly that it didn't seem humanly possible. His high rapid breathing changed as well, it now more resembled the ragged sputtering of an old car's engine, and it would start and stop in an erratic manner.

  "Jim, the lamp on the desk, unplug it and give it to me." There was no denying her authority when she spoke like that, and he hopped from his sitting position and got it for her.

  With one hand on her brother's neck, checking the pulse, she took the lamp with her other and then did the oddest thing: she took the lamp's cord in her mouth, and pulled the lamp back sharply leaving the cord dangling between her teeth. It had been quite a bit like a soldier in a war movie, biting the pin from a grenade.

  Casually, she tossed aside the ruined lamp and took the end of the cord that still bore her teeth marks and bit it again. She then pulled the cord slowly from between her teeth and he saw an inch of gleaming copper at the end of the cord.

  Spitting out the excess rubber coating, she ordered, "Pull the desk back, and when I tell you to, plug the cord in."

  "What? Why?" Jim asked, taking his end of the cord and pulling back the desk.

  "Just in case his heart stops. I'll try to jump it back to life," she said and then bent her head to his chest, listening.

  "Will that work?"

  "Probably not," she stated matter-of-factly, still listening to his heart. Jim was more worried about Will's breathing: the intermittent hitching had become a little bubbling gurgle. And soon, that ended as well in one tiny lonely sigh.

  Talitha was obviously worried about his breathing also. "Will!" she yelled into his face and gave him another of her heavy shakes. "His pulse is weakening, get ready to plug that in." The cord had sat limply in his huge hands as he knelt at the outlet waiting.

  There was a pause as she waited to see if his chest would rise on its own. When it didn't, she bent down and plugging Will's nose, tried to blow air into his lungs. However, there was something wrong and she looked instead to be blowing up a balloon. Her cheeks were puffed out and red and she sat back with a gasp.

  "Huh?" She seemed for a moment perplexed and then she ran her hands along his neck. "Layrngospasm," she said to Jim and before he could ask what that was, she bent to breathe again. This time her free hand went to Will's neck and she squeezed it firmly and as she breathed, her brother's chest rose.

  She paused, her hand on his neck slipping down to his carotid artery to check for a pulse and her eyes widened with a touch of excitement. "He still has a pulse; it's light, but still there. We just have to find away to get him to breathe on..." She stopped talking, Will's chest had raised a tiny amount on its own.

  Talitha then began to gently massage his neck and his breathing became heavier, "Will? Hey Willy J sleepy head are you in there?" she asked with hope.

  A few seconds later, his eyes fluttered open, he immediately began to choke, and stare about in a half confused panic. He then kicked back away from Talitha, hacking and coughing.

  "Will, it's Talitha, the good Talitha. Jim is right here too, ok? You're going to be alright." Understanding came to him in slow degrees and he wilted back onto the carpet still holding his throat and breathing in long exaggerated breaths.

  Talitha and Jim went to stand over him, looking concerned. "There you go, just try to breathe normally. We'll wait until you are ready to talk about what happened..." she began.

  "No!" He had to force the word out and it was low and raspy as if he were struggling with a terrible cold. He swallowed, which looked to pain him. "We have to go now."

  Talitha gave Jim a surprised look and as she helped her unsteady brother to his feet asked, "What's going on? What did you see?"

  "Not yet, I'll tell you in the car. Jim, my coat please, it's right next to you." Jim went to hand over the garment and that was when the black pistol slipped from the inner pocket and clunked heavily to the floor.

  There was then a moment as all three of them eyed the thing and considered the many implications that it represented. With sudden moves, they all went for it, but Talitha was smooth and quick and she had it in the palm of her hand in a flash.

  Jim's breath caught in his throat and he cast a quick eye at Will and saw alarm replacing the last dregs of the fear from his vision, but Talitha seemed innocently unaware of the two men's feelings and without a pause, held out the gun to Will.

  "Thanks," he said shakily and smiled at her just a little. He then took the coat and left, hurrying to the car, leaving Jim and Talitha to catch up.

  As they came up to it, Jim asked, "Where are we going?"

  Will paused and with a puzzled expression, gazed out through the drizzle, at the cars parked around the motel.

  Talitha looked askance at Jim before blurting out, "You don't know?"

  "Sshhh." Will held his hand out to her to shut her up
. "She went to Boston College...and lives five minutes from Roger's park."

  "Who are you talking about?" Talitha asked giving Jim another look, a wide-eyed one that told him she was worried where this was going to take them.

  "She's my sis..." Will's eyes opened wide for a second and then said, "Uh, a girl that Luke has kidnapped, not just a girl, but a virgin," he added ominously and then squinting into the low rain asked. "Is it a full moon?"

  Jim looked up, but Talitha didn't need to. "Yes, and we can rule that out as a coincidence," she said quietly. "He's going to try to bring back Ba'al tonight, is an easy guess."

  There was a pause and then they all scrambled hurriedly into the car, with Jim driving and Talitha in the passenger seat. Jim headed for the highway that would take him to Boston College.

  "Where too?" he asked looking into the rear view mirror.

  "All I know is that it's an apartment building that's five minutes from Roger's Park. Do you know where that is?" Will voice was still raspy but getting clearer.

  "There are a couple of parks near the college and I'm pretty sure I know which one it is, but there are a lot of apartment buildings down there. Do you have an address or the name of the place?" Jim asked.

  "No," was all he said. Talitha turned to stare at him in shock and Will protested. "It's not my fault. All I know is that it's five minutes from that park."

  "By car or on foot?" Talitha asked.

  "On foot...definitely on foot," he responded.

  She waited for him to continue and when he didn't, irritation crept into her voice, "Please think, what else was in the vision? Was there mail lying around? A credit card statement? A post card on the fridge. Was there a view from one of the windows?"

  He hesitated before answering, lingering over his vision and he paled noticeably while he did so. "My sis...damn it! Terry lives below ground, what do you call that?"

  "In a basement," Jim suggested.