Again Will felt compelled to do as Godson commanded. He winced when the voices of his ghosts began to wail, a cacophony of words coming so fast and loud he couldn’t make out what they were saying until one voice roared louder than the others, WE DON’T BELIEVE IN HIM, YOU DON’T BELIEVE IN HIM!
Godson was tiring of playing the battle of minds with Hill. He was wondering if he shouldn’t work a distracting miracle, perhaps making the man’s genitals burst into flames, when there was a combined groan and shriek of metal and Betsy cried out.
Will and Godson turned as one to run to her aid, stopping short when they saw where she was.
* * *
“Easy kid,” Al said. He was kneeling beside Carlos, who was sitting up against one of the ragged patrol car doors. The boy was a mess. His chin and throat were soaked with blood coming out of his mouth, and more blood was bubbling from a half-dozen holes in his chest, washing over the American flag on his T-shirt.
“Can’t seem to get any air,” Carlos said, trying to inhale as the wounds in his chest sputtered.
“Don’t waste your breath talking to me,” Al said. He’d seen damage like this before and he knew the kid was as good as dead. “You hang tight. I saw a radio in that crazy van. I should be able to call for—”
A wet red hand grabbed Al’s shirt. “Did we get those assholes?”
“Yeah, we got ‘em, Carlos. One for each of us.”
“Good. That means Jeannie has a better chance to get away.” Carlos let his eyes close a moment, then looked up at Al. “You gonna be okay, big guy?”
Al took Carlos’ hand and gripped it firmly. “I am.”
“Good,” Carlos wheezed, slumping as his head began to fall. “Just in case though, take this.” Carlos dropped something small and hard into Al’s big hand. It was his obsidian coyote fetish. “This will help keep you safe, I hope.”
Al couldn’t speak.
Carlos fought for one more deep breath. “You know, Officer Al, death scenes suck.”
Carlos’ hand went slack and began to slip out of Al’s grip, but Al held it tight, and as his eyes began to well up he whispered, “Lord, take this boy up. He’s a good boy.”
* * *
“Wow,” Brian said.
He had seen the girl running toward the center of the bridge and then she was hidden by a cloud of white dust that rose up around her. Brittle concrete and rust-eaten metal crumbled and snapped and silently dropped into the gorge as most of the remaining roadway around her disintegrated. A gust of wind diffused the dust and for a moment Brian thought the girl was standing on nothing until he realized her feet were planted on a single narrow finger of metal, a broken floor beam jutting out over the abyss. The overstressed metal lattice of braces to either side and above was still intact, but it was giving off eerie low sounds as if groaning. Betsy was balanced on a beam six inches wide, with clots of concrete still clinging to it. To either side was ten feet of open space between her and what was left of narrow walkways on each side of the bridge. She could walk back the way she came along the length of the beam, but it would be very dangerous.
“She’s in trouble.” Brian said, hearing the mechanism of Ravi’s telephoto lens whirring and seeing the videographer nod.
Brian scrambled down to the news van, hoping he’d be able to see more on the monitor inside. A fist rapped on the side of the van just as he was settling into a seat. His heart lurched, and he laughed nervously when he saw Jeannie standing by the open side door. Christ, he thought, she’s incredibly cute for someone who looks scared shitless. “What’s up?”
“Will doesn’t want me going closer to the bridge. Can you see any better in here?”
“Sure,” Brian said, standing and leaning over his communications console. “Have a seat. See that monitor? That’s the picture my cameraman is shooting right now.” The image panned from Will and Godson to the girl. Ravi zoomed in and Brian saw that the faces of Jeannie and the girl were identical in their fear, and their striking beauty. He also felt as if he was becoming aroused and he shook his head at his own body’s inappropriate foolishness.
“Oh God,” Jeannie breathed, “Don’t fall, Betsy. Don’t fall.”
* * *
“Any idea why Godson is so fascinated with the girl?” Mondani asked Tupper, as they both stared at the monitor.
“I may have some idea, yes,” Tupper said.
* * *
Will couldn’t believe his eyes when Godson started walking along the metal beam toward Betsy, showing no regard for the chasm below. He raised his gun, taking aim at the back of Godson’s head. The beam trembled with Godson’s every step and Betsy’s balance wavered. She leaned forward and dropped to her knees, steadying herself with her hands. Godson was getting close to her.
“Hey! I’ll put a bullet in your head if you don’t freeze right now, asshole!”
Godson did an about-face, turning so smoothly it looked like a dance move. “William, I intend to take the girl. Do not try to stop me.” He took a backward step, and another.
Will could only stare in disbelief as Godson continued walking backward with ease.
* * *
“What’s happening?” Jeannie asked, as the picture on the monitor became erratic.
“Ravi must be moving closer to the bridge for a better view,” Brian said, turning his head when the CB squawked and he heard a familiar voice.
Jeannie watched him scramble to the front of the van and grab the microphone. He said “yes,” and “no,” and “that’s too bad,” and then told whoever was on the other end that he would swing by as soon as possible.
“That was the sheriff,” Brian said, stepping back to the console. “He’s calling from one of those black vans that went after him. His patrol car got shot up and the kid with him got killed. I told him we’d pick him up as soon as we could.”
Brian turned his attention to the monitor and was so wrapped up in what he was seeing he didn’t notice that Jeannie was crying, and he didn’t hear her whisper Carlos’ name and say she was sorry.
* * *
Stella began making her way down the side of the mountain, to the bridge.
* * *
Will had wanted to go after Godson but he was sure the metal beam couldn’t support the extra weight. He ran to what remained of the walkway on the right, a horizontal lattice of fragmented cement and old steel that made moving with anything resembling speed a challenge. He could feel Godson’s eyes on him and tried to ignore the distinctly unclean sensation.
“Sometimes I see things down the road, William,” Godson said. “I get impressions of what’s going to happen.”
“Fascinating,” Will muttered. He made his way along the crumbling walkway until he was across from Betsy, with a long drop between them.
“The Deputy, for instance,” Godson said, turning to face Will. “The young man with him is dead, but the officer will be going home. And it is in his home town he’ll soon find himself in a place stranger than the Compound, seeing things no one on this world has ever seen.”
“No shit,” Will replied. The gap between him and Betsy had to be at least three yards, and he wondered if she could jump that far from a standing start.
“The reporter.” Godson gestured toward the news van. “He will one day cross paths with monsters, and write the testament of a forgotten people.”
Godson faced forward again and Will saw that he was closer to Betsy. A few more steps and Godson would have her.
“As for this one’s mother,” Godson said, tilting his head to Betsy and squinting as if peering through a shifting fog. “She shall be a mother again, the mother of a new nation.”
* * *
Brian and Jeannie shared a look, and they heard Ravi say softly into the microphone, “What is this garbage? Do you think he can pick some winning Lottery numbers for us?”
* * *
Mondani stared uneasily at the monitor. “This is curious.”
“Yes,” Tupper said, bouncing in his seat
, perversely energized by what he was seeing. “It appears the rumors about John Godson’s source material may be true after all.”
“Absurd!” Mondani snapped. “Godson is just a man.”
* * *
Godson looked into Will’s eyes. “For myself, I sense but cannot see, another time and another place.” He frowned, as if even he were unsure of his meaning. “But for you, William, I see nothing. Once before I prophesied you would not see the sun set on the new millennium and I repeat that warning now. All you will have is darkness, a darkness that will swallow you body and soul unless you put down the gun and let me have the girl.”
The air was still and quiet. Will, Betsy, and Godson could hear each other breathing, and the unsettling groaning and ticking of overstressed metal. There was a whisper, a tickle, an ache in Will’s head, behind his eyes, and he ignored it.
Godson took a few steps closer to Betsy, putting more weight on Betsy’s end of the beam. With each step there was a creak of metal and a faint crunch as his feet came down on bits of grit and concrete on the rusted and pitted metal. Godson stopped, glanced at Will, and then looked at Betsy. “Come to me,” he said.
Betsy got to her feet and shook her head. She took a step backward, then another, putting more weight on that end of the beam.
“Don’t do it, kid!” Will called. “Jump over to me. I’ll lean out and catch your hand. It’ll be easier than it looks.” The girl paused.
Will heard a sound almost like running water. He turned and saw that the base of the beam Godson and Betsy were on was set in concrete that was rapidly crumbling. Gray fragments were trickling away from the base of the beam and spilling into the gorge.
“Betsy,” Will said, trying his damnedest to sound reassuring, “that beam is coming loose. It’s going to fall, but you still have time. Jump. I’ll grab you.”
Godson looked over his shoulder and scowled. He seemed perturbed with the beam for having the temerity to come loose at this time. He reached for Betsy with his left hand.
Will raised the gun and fired a single shot. There was no thought involved. He saw the hand and pulled the trigger. Godson’s hand snapped back with a bloody hole in the palm, and then he was reaching for the girl with his right hand. Will fired again, and Godson let out a hoarse, furious cry, his suit spattered with blood and flecks of tissue.
Pieces of concrete were breaking away from the base of the beam faster than ever. Even Betsy could see them now, as she looked past Godson, who stood with his head lowered and his arms crossed over his chest. She carefully turned to face Will. He gave her a nod, and she tensed, preparing to jump.
“Bet-see,” Godson almost sang, “Stay where you are.”
Will cursed in frustration when Betsy did as Godson commanded. Standing and staring at nothing with a dreamy expression of her face, Betsy could have been on the street waiting for a bus. A gust of wind tossed her hair and her pretty face was hidden in that silky darkness. Will raised his gun, aiming at Godson’s forehead. “Enough of these games,” he said. “Let the girl go now, or you . . . die.”
Will had faltered on his last word, because the beam was breaking free of the concrete and Betsy was about to be pitched into the void. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. Will was looking at Godson’s feet and even though the beam was dropping away, Godson was still standing where he had been a moment before and the gap between his feet and the metal beam was widening.
* * *
“What do you think, Doctor?” Tupper asked Mondani. “Are we bearing witness to an actual, honest-to-God miracle?”
* * *
Jeannie couldn’t speak. Godson could shit fire and rise up into the air like a rocket and she wouldn’t care, as long as Betsy got off the bridge in one piece.
Brian quickly hid a nervous grin with one hand when they heard Ravi say, “I think I saw David Copperfield do this in Vegas, and it sucked then, too.”
* * *
Will watched Godson hover in the air before him, not realizing that Betsy was herself again, as if Godson had to break whatever spell he had on her to concentrate on levitating.
She jumped without warning as the beam underfoot broke free and tumbled into the gorge. Will somehow managed to stay on his feet and keep the gun on Godson while grabbing the girl’s slender left wrist with his free hand.
Godson raised his bloody hands. Betsy yelped and then she was rising, suspended in the air between the two men and being drawn toward Godson.
Will tried to pull Betsy close to him. Godson raised his face to the sky and spread his arms wide, his hands dripping blood. Will’s feet began sliding over the rubble-strewn concrete and steel at his feet. Betsy was being drawn away from him and he heard the sound of metal buckling and breaking, realizing the entire bridge was coming apart. He looked at Godson floating in midair, arms outstretched, feet crossed at the ankles, blood dripping from his palms. The man’s face was twisted with strain and effort, but when he looked at Will and spoke his voice was gentle and horribly persuasive.
“Put down the gun. Let the girl come to me. Do these things, and do not forsake me.”
Will began lowering the gun, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind of a numbing fog.
* * *
“Hold on, Will,” Jeannie pleaded, watching the surreal tug-of-war for her daughter.
* * *
Will felt Betsy’s wrist slipping out of his grip. He tried to raise the gun but it seemed to weigh as much as the ruin of the bridge. Godson’s voice boomed in his mind, demanding that he release the weapon and the girl. The pain was incredible, like a spinning spiked metal ball shredding brain and bone behind his eyes. He was sure he would rupture a blood vessel in his skull if he didn’t do something soon. His voice was a raw whisper when he said, “Please . . . Leave us alone or I’ll shoot.”
* * *
“Oh my goodness, this is absolutely wonderful!” Tupper said with uncontainable enthusiasm. “Presley versus Christ! Now we’ll see who the real King is!”
Mondani and Dolan looked at the young scientist as if he were diseased.
* * *
Godson’s face turned away from Will and his shouts faded from Will’s mind. The pull on Betsy became stronger still. From far away Will heard Jeannie let out a shriek.
The bridge began to shudder, sections of the concrete deck dropping out of sight and old steel beams overhead breaking away and spinning down into the gorge.
Godson was moving through the air as slow as a cloud, reaching for Betsy, who was still hanging in the air and being pulled away from Will.
Will’s ghosts spoke again, for the very last time, and now he recognized many of them. He heard Stern. He heard his own voice at different ages, seven and ten, twelve and seventeen. He heard a great man who had only ever been known as Jon. Praise the Lord and pass the peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwiches, he even heard Elvis Aaron Presley.
We can do this together. We’re stronger than he is. We can kill one more time, one more death to make up for all the others.
“Okay, then,” Will whispered. “Let’s take care of business.” He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on Betsy’s wrist, and aimed the gun at Godson, slowly squeezing the trigger.
Still suspended in the air and reaching for Betsy, Godson faced Will. “You can’t kill me,” he said, a terrible mixture of hope and desperation in his voice. “I’m Jesus.”
“Then say hi to your dad for me,” Will said.
The gun fired. A small hole appeared in Godson’s forehead and he jerked spastically, brains spilling out of the back of his head as he dropped into the gorge.
The bridge shook and a cloud of dust and flecks of rust hung in the air like dark smoke.
Betsy began to fall and Will let go of the gun, grabbing a rusted railing behind him and pulling her close. She clung to him so hard he couldn’t breathe for a moment. They started walking back to the near side of the gorge, the bridge shuddering underfoot. He heard ragged snapping sounds and saw a hu
ge lattice of rusted metal fall from the bridge.
They stepped off of the bridge, onto the road, Betsy first. Will saw the black eye of a camera pointed at him from the end of the bridge and Ravi waving from behind it. Brian and Jeannie came out of the news van and Brian cheered. Betsy ran to her mother. Will was gladdened when he saw Jeannie holding Betsy close to her.
Just as Will set foot on solid ground there was a horrendous groan and the skeletal remains of the bridge collapsed and dropped down and out of sight, crashing down into the gorge and booming like rolling thunder.
Dodged another bullet, Will thought, and then Jeannie jumped into his arms, nearly knocking him back on his ass.
In the dry riverbed at the bottom of the gorge, steel and concrete buried an empty white suit that was stained with blood.
A Page from the Past
Made in the U.S.A.: The 10th Anniversary Edition Page 43