The Massacre Mechanism (The Downwinders Book 5)

by Michael Richan

  “Chill,” Winn replied. “I’m not going to lose him. We’re fine.”

  David’s hand released, allowing some color back into his fingers. Winn couldn’t help but notice how big they were. Football hands, Winn thought.

  Traffic had increased now that they were closer to Hurricane. A couple of cars had turned onto the road in front of them, creating some distance from Warren’s truck.

  “Don’t lose sight of him!” Winn said. “I gotta watch traffic now, so it’s your job to see if he turns.”

  “I got the truck,” David replied. “I’m on it.”

  They twisted through the subdivisions and strip malls, keeping a healthy distance from Warren. David occasionally noted a turn, and Winn followed carefully, trying to keep as much distance as they could without losing him.

  “He’s going to Brainerd’s,” Winn said.

  “I thought that was a hardware store,” David replied.

  “They sell feed too.”

  Winn slowed the Jeep as they watched Warren’s brake lights come on, three cars ahead of them. His right signal came on, and he turned into a large parking lot that served several different businesses.

  Winn turned a block before the parking lot, and drove his Jeep to the next intersection, where he made a left.

  “Hurry,” David said. “We don’t want to miss the drop.”

  Winn pulled into the back lot of the hardware store. He stopped the Jeep and turned off the engine. They were about to exit the vehicle when David stopped them.

  “Look!” David said, ducking a little. Along the side of the building was Warren, walking in their direction.

  Both Winn and David instantly slid down in their seats until they could barely see over the dashboard.

  “He’s coming this way!” David said.

  “No, he’s stopping,” Winn replied, watching. “He’s fishing for something in his pocket.”

  They watched as Warren removed a shiny glass bottle and lifted the black plastic lid of a large metal dumpster on the side of the building. He let the bottle fall inside. As he lowered the lid, he looked around to see if he’d been observed. Winn and David responded by sliding even lower.

  “That’s what I saw the man hand him,” Winn said, “back on the road. It’s not trash. It’s the drop.”

  Winn slid up a little more so he could see over the dash. Warren was walking away from them, back the way he came. Within seconds he was out of sight.

  “I’ll get it,” David volunteered, opening the Jeep door on the passenger side.

  “Watch out if he comes back!” Winn said as David slipped out.

  “Of course,” David replied, closing the door. Winn watched over the dashboard as David walked the fifty feet to the edge of the building and then down its side.

  The sun was beating down on the dumpster, and David quickly pulled his hand away from the lid when he touched it. He reached for it again, flipping it up. It came to rest against the side of the building, leaving the dumpster open.

  David tried reaching into it, but it was deeper than his arm would go. Winn watched as David looked up at him and pointed into the opening, a signal that he intended to climb into the dumpster.

  Shit, Winn thought. This is taking longer than it should.

  David pushed up onto the edge of the dumpster and vaulted his legs inside, his athleticism evident. David’s head disappeared below the edge of the dumpster, and Winn began to fidget.

  After a few moments, David reappeared. He raised a hand holding the item Warren had dropped into the dumpster. He smiled and waved to Winn, showing him that he had it.

  Now get out of there! Winn thought.

  David jumped out of the dumpster and began running back to the Jeep. When he reached the passenger door, he opened it and got inside. “Here it is!” he said.

  “Down!” Winn replied, sliding lower in his seat once again.

  David instantly joined Winn by sliding below the level of the dash. “What?” he asked.

  Winn slid up enough that he could see through the windshield. Three people were walking toward the dumpster. One was a tall, thin man dressed in a black shirt and pants, with a dirty white tie and a grey Stetson. By his side were two women, clothed in ankle-length dresses of drab color. The sleeves of the dresses went to their wrists, and the tops rose up their necks. Winn had seen the classic polygamist outfit many times before, when fundamentalists came up from Colorado City to shop.

  The tall man in black ordered one of the women into the dumpster, and the other woman knelt to give her a boost. Her long dress made it hard to slide over the edge of the hot metal, but she was inside within seconds.

  “I don’t know who I was expecting to pick up the drop,” David muttered, “but it wasn’t this.”

  “Some old polygamist and his wives?” Winn said. “Me either.”

  They watched as the head of the woman inside the dumpster popped back up, showing tight braids that ran down her neck, stopping at the shoulders. She exchanged words with the other two, and the man in black ordered her back down. Her head disappeared, and the man assisted the second woman into it the dumpster. He waited while the women rummaged through the trash, occasionally looking left and right to see if they were being watched.

  Winn saw the glass in David’s hand, and asked him to pass it. Inside was a clear liquid. He unscrewed the cap and took a sniff; it smelled strongly of juniper, and for a moment he thought it was gin. Then it changed to a scent more like oranges, and within a few seconds it changed again, smelling burnt.

  “Strange message,” David said. “Maybe it was just Warren throwing away some booze, so he didn’t get caught with it? Maybe this isn’t the drop at all.”

  “It’s the drop,” Winn said. “That’s why they’re over there, searching for it.”

  The tall man in black turned as the heads of the two women appeared out of the dumpster. They argued for a few minutes, and the women disappeared inside the oversize garbage can once again.

  “Grab that iced tea bottle on the floorboard,” Winn said, pointing to a spot near David’s feet. David reached down and retrieved the glass bottle, passing it to Winn.

  “What’s that for?” David asked.

  Winn carefully removed the cap on the iced tea bottle and sniffed at it. He didn’t like the smell. “Is there a water bottle down there somewhere?”

  David rummaged through the trash at his feet, finally locating a plastic water bottle that had a couple of inches of water inside. He handed it to Winn, who opened it and poured the water into the iced tea bottle.

  “What are you doing?” David asked.

  “I’m going to keep a sample of this message,” he replied, swishing the water around inside the bottle and then pouring it out onto the floor of the Jeep. “But I can’t keep it in plastic. Has to be glass.”

  “A sample?” David asked.

  “I’ve seen this before,” Winn replied. “The message is in every drop of this liquid. We don’t need it all, just some of it.” He carefully poured a quarter of the liquid from Warren’s bottle into the iced tea bottle, and capped them both.

  “As soon as they go, run this back to the dumpster,” Winn said, handing the bottle back to David.

  “Run it back? Why?”

  “Because these fuckers seem very intent on finding it,” Winn replied, “and there’s no reason they shouldn’t. Carma just wants to know what the message says. If they come back again and find it, they’ll think they were too early for the drop, or that they missed it the first time. It’ll keep suspicions down and they won’t confront Warren.”

  “I wish they would confront him,” David said. “Now that he’s working for the enemy, I’d just as soon they turn on him.”

  “That’d be fine with me too, but I think Carma would rather keep the information coming. Warren and Dayton have no clue we’re onto them, and it’s best to keep it that way.”

  They watched as the two women inside the dumpster gave up. Each of them crawled out wit
h no assistance from the man in black. Once they were out of it, he looked inside, but didn’t enter it. He quickly glanced right and left. Winn slid down in his seat, but even from this distance he could see the man’s eyes shifting back and forth, searching the landscape. Finally the man and his wives turned and left, walking away from them to return to the front parking lot of the hardware store.

  “Was it just me, or was that one creepy threesome?” Winn asked.

  “Pligs always creep me out,” David replied. “But that guy was different. Mega creep.”

  “Looked like a villain right out of a movie,” Winn said, starting up the Jeep.

  “Yeah, with two bizarre henchmen.”

  Chapter Three

  “Oh no,” Carma said, her hands coming together quickly to begin wringing. “Oh dear.”

  Winn sat on a chair in Carma’s sitting room, taking an iced tea from the tray Carma had prepared.

  “Tell me again,” Carma said. “Be specific.”

  David grabbed an iced tea and fell onto the couch. They all avoided the chair that Deem preferred — it seemed wrong to sit in it while she was gone.

  “One man, two women,” Winn said.

  “And the two women were his wives, I guess,” David said. “Wearing plig clothes.”

  “How was their hair done?” Carma asked.

  “Braids,” Winn replied.

  “And the man?” Carma asked.

  “Black from head to toe,” David said. “Except his tie. And his hat seemed a light shade of grey.”

  “How tall was he?” Carma asked.

  “Six foot three?” Winn guessed. “Somewhere around there. Tall. Thin.”

  “Creepy,” David added.

  “Oh, no!” Carma repeated, sitting on the edge of a chair, the wringing of her hands picking up speed.

  “What?” Winn asked.

  “I had hoped the rumors weren’t true,” she muttered, looking to her side.

  “What rumors?” Winn asked.

  “We’d heard through the grapevine that they were using The Fist,” Carma replied. “But his name gets thrown around a lot, so we discounted it. I guess we were wrong.”

  “The Fist?” David asked, sitting up on the couch. “He’s called The Fist?”

  “The Fist of God,” Carma said. “Lives on the outskirts of Hildale, just north of Colorado City. He’s shunned by the fundamentalist leaders there, but he’s often used by others to get dirty work done. He’s ruthless, and so are his wives. I was hoping the reports of their involvement were false.”

  “Involvement?” David asked. “He’s working with Dayton?”

  “If it was him picking up the drop, then yes, he’s involved,” Carma said, tapping a finger against her leg nervously while she thought. “They’ve gone for the big guns.”

  “Aside from the getup, they didn’t seem all that impressive to me,” Winn said, taking a gulp of his iced tea. “Just an old polygamist and his wives.”

  “No, he’s not just that,” Carma said. “He’s gifted, and so are the women. What they see, he sees. He’s got some kind of special connection to them. I know people like to look down on the fundamentalists around here, but it’s a mistake to think they’re deficient in some way. Just because they have multiple wives doesn’t mean they aren’t smart. Or, in his case, diabolically malevolent.”

  “I don’t care about the multiple wives,” David said. “Grown adults can do what they want. It’s the marrying of underage girls I object to.”

  “And the mindless following of a leader,” Winn added.

  “There’s a lot of that in the world,” Carma said, “not just here. That’s not my point. This man has a reputation that goes back generations. The gifteds who use him gave him the nickname ‘The Fist of God’ years ago because he’s so ruthless and effective. I’m afraid this tips the scales a little.”

  “His wives didn’t look that tough,” David observed.

  “They are, I assure you,” Carma replied. “It’s a huge mistake to underestimate them based on their looks. They’re all seasoned, well-exercised gifteds who can make the River work to their advantage. We need to be very careful going forward. Many people believe that a huge number of unexplained deaths around here are attributable to them.” Carma paused. “Never connected to them, of course.”

  Winn produced the iced tea bottle that contained the liquid he transferred. He showed it to Carma.

  “This was the drop,” Winn said, handing it to her. “Once I smelled it and realized what it was, I decided to keep most of it in the original bottle and leave it there. If they go back to look for it again, they’ll find it.”

  “Smart!” Carma said, the look of worry on her face diminishing slightly. “That keeps things in play for a while longer. Quick thinking.”

  She took the bottle from Winn and looked at it, then unscrewed its cap and sniffed at it.

  “Oh, yes!” she said. “I’ll get this down to Lyman. He has filters that’ll lift the words quickly.”

  “So there’s a message in that liquid?” David asked. “Fascinating.”

  Carma rose from her chair. “You can put a message into almost anything if you know how,” she said, turning to walk to the hallway.

  “Speaking of messages,” Winn said to David, “I’ve got an appointment with Awan in a couple of hours. Sure you don’t want to come?”

  David smiled back. “If I don’t study for this final, I’m going to flunk the class altogether. I can’t. I wish I could, though.”

  Winn rose. “No problem,” he replied curtly, following Carma. He descended the stairs behind her. She stopped when she reached the bottom and turned to him. “Don’t be angry with him.”

  “Angry?” he replied. “Why would I be angry?”

  Carma’s head tilted at him. “Don’t make me go into it.” She turned and walked through the dark basement room, on her way to the passage that led to the tunnel.

  Winn followed her, deciding not to continue pretending he didn’t know what she meant. He was miffed that David would choose a college test over helping him out, especially since Winn believed the message came from Deem. Winn hadn’t done well in college, and dropped out almost immediately. As he followed Carma through the tunnel, he felt resentment of David bubble up, and it wasn’t the first time. It irritated him.

  Rich college kid, he thought, shaking his head.

  He knew that deep inside himself, past all the irritation and anger, he respected David for having the determination to see it through; something he hadn’t been able to muster. He suspected if he were being completely honest, he actually admired David. But it was easier to be pissed, to feel slighted by his lack of loyalty.

  I wonder where his loyalties lie, he thought.

  You’re an asshole, his better self replied. You know where his loyalties lie. He’s been tested. He’s on your side. If you were on his side, you’d want him to succeed in college. You’re the asshole.

  Carma led him past the small wooden table that used to be the point at which they’d always stop and wait for Lyman to appear. “The fact of the matter is, both of your hearts are in the right place,” she said, passing through another small tunnel and into the dark cave that housed Lyman’s work area. “So don’t be too hard on him, or yourself.”

  About ten paces inside the cave, Winn stopped and let himself drop into the River. The darkness dissolved into an eerie glow that illuminated all of Lyman’s tables and projects. He drifted to a corner where his reason for following Carma lay stretched out on a table: Deem.

  She looked the same as the last time he’d come down to check on her: stretched out like a body on a slab, her chest slowly rising and falling. Her face was still covered by the gelatinous glob that was somehow keeping her alive. He could remember how part of it forced its way into Deem’s mouth and nose as Lyman had applied it many weeks ago. He felt his body shake with the willies in response to the memory.

  She’s the same, Lyman said from behind, coming up to Winn and pla
cing a hand on his shoulder. Lyman’s hand felt insubstantial and light, and it made Winn wonder just how effective he might be at saving Deem’s life. He turned to look at the man by his side, and seeing Lyman’s young, sixteen-year-old face didn’t help.

  She’s still OK? Winn asked.

  Well, as OK as she can be, considering where she’s at, Lyman replied, removing his hand from Winn’s shoulder and drifting to the other side of the table.

  Tell me again why you have to leave her in that horrible place? Winn said. I know you’ve told me before. I guess I’m hoping that the story will be different.

  It’s not, Lyman replied. The weapon you used to capture Willard Bingham was the same weapon I used many times in the past to round up a large number of evil, degenerate entities. When you misfired and hit Deem with it, she was transferred to the soul cage with the others.

  Didn’t misfire, Winn muttered. She stepped in front of me. Of it.

  Yes, Lyman replied. However it happened, she’s in there with hundreds of malevolent people. When I open the soul cage, they’ll all come out, including Deem. I can’t release them until I’m ready to use them. I’d be wasting decades of work.

  You wouldn’t do that for her? Winn asked. I know she’s important to you.

  Winn watched as Lyman looked down at Deem. He could see the man’s face soften; he knew Deem reminded him of a former love, someone from a hundred and fifty years ago that he’d cared about very much. Then he saw Lyman’s face slowly harden. She’s important, Lyman said. But she’s fine, for now. I can’t discard all of the work I’ve labored so hard to complete.

  And what is that? Winn asked. What’s the plan?

  Lyman turned to look at him. He didn’t reply.

  I know you have a plan, Winn said. Why won’t you tell me?

  Some of the worst setbacks I’ve suffered came from people I trusted, Lyman answered, looking down at Deem. I’ve found it’s best to share knowledge when there’s a reason to, not before. I’m asking both you and Deem to be patient.

  Winn felt himself sigh. It was probably the fourth or fifth time he’d approached Lyman, hoping the man would let him in on things and give him some idea of how Deem would finally be freed, but to no avail. Lyman kept his cards close to his chest and never let anyone see them until the last moment. It was frustrating, but what could he do? Deem’s body was alive for now, thanks to the creature Lyman had slathered over her face; without it, Winn suspected her physical body would have died long ago. He had no choice but to trust Lyman and wait.