The Massacre Mechanism (The Downwinders Book 5)

by Michael Richan

  Me either, Marion replied. There’s someone inside me.

  That’s how I feel, too, Deem replied. How are we talking, but the others aren’t hearing us?

  Kate! Marion! their father called from ahead. Pick up your feet. We have ground to cover!

  Deem turned and began walking. Marion followed her. We’ve always been able to talk privately, Marion said. ’Cause of our gift.

  Our gift? Deem repeated. Do you mean the River?

  Don’t know what you mean, Marion replied. We’ve always done it. Daddy doesn’t have the gift, so he’s never been able to talk this way.

  Where are we going? Deem asked.

  West, Marion replied. Like before. We’re going to live in California.

  No, Deem replied. We’re not going west to live, Marion. We’re dead.

  She saw her sister’s brow furrow as she considered what Deem was saying. You’re right, Marion replied. We are dead. We’re going west for some other reason. Let’s ask Father.

  Before Deem could stop her, Marion had run ahead to where Paul and a couple of other men were marching forward.

  Father? Marion asked. Why are we walking west? We’re dead.

  That we are, Paul replied, not stopping. Don’t you feel it, Marion? The call? The urge in your blood?

  Marion looked down at her dress. No, I don’t feel it. Do you?

  I do, Paul replied. I feel it very strongly. It speaks to me. It speaks to all of us.

  What is it telling you? Marion asked.

  That the people who murdered us in cold blood are waiting ahead, unaware that we are coming. We are going to have our revenge, Marion.

  Marion stopped walking and Deem quickly caught up with her.

  You heard that? Marion asked.

  I did, Deem replied. Sounds to me like another massacre is coming.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “Do you think Deem will be alright?” David asked, eating a burger in the front seat of Winn’s Jeep. David’s car was parked right behind Winn so the two of them could trade off, but for now they were enjoying a fast food meal between them.

  “Lyman and Carma seem to think so,” Winn replied.

  “I wish there was something we could do.”

  “I don’t think we have many options other than to trust them,” Winn replied, remembering the feeling of the ghost’s fingers upon his own as he pressed the bones into the earth. He’d felt a strong anger in that touch, an anger that wanted to be released. If Deem was now inside one of those ghosts — the idea of it chilled him.

  “Do you think she’s walking to Caliente with the rest of them?” David said, swallowing down fries and following it with a sip of soda. “Lyman said her personality was strong enough to resist them. What’s she doing, just wandering around out there in the meadow? Should we go out there and see?”

  “I don’t know how that would change anything,” Winn replied. “Whatever it is Lyman has cooked up, it has to play out before he’ll release them and Deem will be free. We’ll have to trust that Deem is smart enough to know what to do. And besides, Carma thinks this guy is about to assassinate someone. We’ve got to stay here and keep an eye on him.”

  “If they’re even still in there,” David said.

  “They’re in there. We saw the wives earlier.”

  “But we haven’t seen them for hours,” David said, checking his watch.

  “They’re in there. Surveillance is patience. You might be too young to understand that.”

  “I’m not going to get pissed at you about insulting my age on the same day you saved me from a midair explosion. If you say they’re in there, I believe you.”

  “This might go on for a while, you know,” Winn said. “If we have to keep it up all night, we’re going to need to trade off. One of us needs to get some sleep so they can take over for the other in the middle of the night.”

  “You go,” David said. “I’ll go back to my car and keep watching.”

  Winn balled up the wrapper from his burger and tossed it into the backseat. “Alright. We’ll switch off around 2, how’s that? Call me if anything happens between now and then.”

  David opened the door. “Will do,” he replied, hopping out. Winn watched as David exited and closed the door, and then David surprised him by stopping to deliver a wide grin through the window before walking back to his car.

  Winn felt surprise at his reaction to David’s smile, as the sliver of affection he’d tamped down grew a little. It bothered him. He’s what, six, seven years younger than you? he thought. Forget about it.

  But Winn watched in the rear-view mirror as David walked back to his car.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Even though he’d blacked out his windows the best he could, there was still enough light in the upstairs bedroom to make falling asleep difficult. Carma had made him a special tea that she said would help him drift off without knocking him out, but he couldn’t feel any effects from the tea, and instead just tossed and turned. This is becoming chronic, he thought. Maybe I’m an insomniac.

  He was trying to put the events of the past few days out of his mind, but they kept replaying. Deem’s marching to some kind of battle in Caliente, he thought. The Fist of God and his deranged wives are about to kill someone in town, probably another gifted, like David’s parents. And here I am trying to sleep.

  He tried to think about something else; sex usually worked, it normally distracted his mind enough that sleep could come. As he began to fantasize, he searched for some recent exploit he could replay in his mind. The waitress from North Vegas, he thought, smiling, feeling himself become comfortably aroused, but not enough to stop sleep from approaching. He enjoyed the memory for a while, changing the details of the actual experience to something even more satisfying, feeling his mind begin to drift.

  Suddenly the flash hit, jarring him from the edge of sleep. Another flash, then a series of rapid flashes, all with his eyes closed.

  More symbols, he thought. Here they come.

  He relaxed. Deem’s trying to communicate, he thought. You know how this works now. Just relax and let them come.

  And then they started, a pattern of ciphers that he let replay over and over until he was sure he had them down, shifting from left to right in his mind, glowing.

  He opened his eyes and looked for his backpack. Within moments he’d sketched the symbols into his notepad. He looked at them, wondering if he should put on clothes and go downstairs to translate them.

  Last time I waited too long, he remembered. I almost missed David at the airport. Do it now.

  He stood up and slipped into his jeans, then pulled on a t-shirt and headed downstairs barefoot.

  Carma was nowhere to be found, but he located the mechanism on the shelf in the sitting room. She must have brought it back up from Lyman’s cave, he thought, walking to it and lifting it carefully. Its wheels were still turning, living off the energy imparted to it by all the recent use.

  He ripped the page from his notebook and set it on the floor, positioning the mechanism next to it as he had the previous times. Within moments it began to work, and Winn watched as the dials on the side slowed to indicate the final differential calculation. Then he reached out and grabbed the metal top of the contraption, holding firmly.

  He was surprised how fast it happened. He was sitting on the dock of a long pier, water surrounding him. He looked up; a thin roof had been constructed over the pier, shielding him from the rain that was falling. He could hear it hitting the shingles, and he could smell the damp wood.

  In the distance the moon was hanging over the horizon, but it wasn’t the moon. It was pockmarked like the familiar orbiter he’d seen his whole life, but it wasn’t round, it was ovular.

  It looks like a potato! he thought, mesmerized by the weirdness of it.

  The sensation of metal under his palm reminded him of his purpose. He glanced down and read, watching as the symbols morphed into English and back again.

  He released the metal ball and fe
lt himself pulled back rapidly, the nausea in his stomach immediately rising, and he rose from the floor for a trip to the bathroom even before he’d fully returned. He stumbled as he walked, slowly gaining a fuller awareness of his surroundings, and managed to land on the tile floor of the bathroom just as his stomach heaved. He positioned himself over the toilet, expecting to lose the burger and fries. Nothing came up. After he dry heaved a couple of times, he felt his stomach changing. The nausea was leaving, replaced by hunger pangs.

  He felt confused, anxiety racing through his system. The translation was not something he had expected, and it made him feel utterly alone:

  Destroy the mechanism.

  He fell back against the bathroom wall, trying to determine if somehow he’d misinterpreted the message.

  The words on his notebook read as plain as day. Maybe some other mechanism, he thought.

  But he knew that wasn’t what it meant.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Deem assumed her legs would be aching, but she felt no pain. They’d been walking for hours over the dry terrain, pushing forward just as they had with the wagons before the standoff with the Indians.

  Not Indians, she thought, though the thought wasn’t entirely hers. Not Indians. Mormons.

  Kate? she heard, turning to see her sister, Marion, trudging along beside her. Further to her right were other figures, ghostly apparitions moving west along with them, and ahead by ten paces were a group of men including her father.

  My father died, Deem thought. He is buried in St. George. The man ahead of me is her father, Katherine’s father, Marion’s father.

  Something’s different, Marion said to her.

  Yes, Deem replied, unsure if it was her speaking to Marion, or Katherine; perhaps a mixture of both. We’re resurrected, Marion. That’s what’s different.

  Not really resurrected, Marion said. Not like Jesus. We have no bodies.

  Our bodies rotted in the earth many years ago, Deem replied. It’s our souls that have been resurrected. That’s what’s different.

  No, it’s you, Marion replied. You’ve changed.

  Deem wasn’t sure how to respond; as she paused, the Katherine part of her rose and began to communicate. So have you, Marion. There’s something else inside you. I can sense it.

  It’s in father, too, Marion replied. Betty, Hubert, Don…all of them, they’re all different. Something has infected them.

  I infected her sister, Deem thought to herself. Something else entered her, entered all of the other people silently marching along with them: the souls from the soul cage. She’s right to think they’re infected — they’ve been taken over by some of the worst people ever imagined.

  It’s very angry, Marion said. I hate how it feels.

  Can you keep it suppressed? Deem asked.

  Just barely, Marion replied. How about you? Don’t you feel it?

  I do, Deem lied, fearful for Marion even though she’d known her for only a few hours. Do you suppose we’ve got control of it because of our gift?

  Precisely what I was thinking, Marion replied, giving her a slight smile.

  Hurry up, you two! their father called from ahead. When we get to Caliente, we’re going to rip apart those motherfucking bastards!

  Coming Father! Marion called back, picking up her pace a little. She turned quietly to Deem. That’s not him. He would never speak that way.

  It’s what’s inside him, animating him, Deem thought, realizing that all of the ghosts marching along with her were filled with the bloodlust of the beings from the soul cage. That, combined with the ghosts’ desire for revenge, was propelling them toward something, toward some impending event. Paul had mentioned Caliente, as though there was a plan. She searched herself, looking for any sense of compulsion. Suddenly she saw the memory of Marion’s throat sliced in front of her, and her father’s face destroyed by a bullet. Searing pain from the wound she received returned, and along with it the most poignant desire to right the wrong inflicted upon her family.

  We’re marching to Caliente for revenge, she thought, knowing it was primarily Katherine’s thought, not her own. Lyman somehow fused the evil beings from the soul cage into these people, Deem reasoned, combining their sadism and rage with the wagon train’s justified desire for vengeance. I’m not like them, so Katherine is left with just her revenge, which I can feel, pulling me forward. Marion too. Although some horrible creature from the cage must be inside her.

  So I wound up inside someone who had the gift, Deem thought. What were the odds? Was it planned that way?

  Lyman’s plan…when we reach our destination, what then? she wondered. These people are ready to kill, they are potent combinations of rage and revenge. Who’s in Caliente?

  Then she remembered the trip she made to Caliente a year earlier with Winn, trying to locate Dayton during a meeting of his group. They used the old, closed church building there. She became amused at the memory; how she and Winn thought they’d track Dayton afterwards, but instead found themselves outsmarted by the guy.

  If we’re walking to Caliente, she wondered, might it be to confront Dayton? Is this Lyman’s plan?

  These people will slaughter him and whomever he’s with, she felt, glancing again around her, sensing the same sadistic and evil beings she’d spent months trying to avoid in the soul cage.

  Lorenzo? she called in her mind. Are you there, Lorenzo? She desperately wanted to talk to her friend, the only one she’d been able to speak with for so long. He would help her understand what was happening, help her sort it out in her mind, keep her focused and not let her despair.

  No answer came.

  Who’s Lorenzo? Marion asked.

  Oh, no one, Deem replied, returning suddenly to the rough terrain they were walking over. She’s gifted, Deem reminded herself. And she’s my sister. She’s likely very in tune with Kate. Remember that.

  That wasn’t the man we met at the trading post? Marion asked. The one you talked with for so long?

  Kate answered before Deem could reply. No, that was Mark.

  Suddenly Deem felt a deep desire to know who this Kate was, to explore the person she was inside. There was some kind of divider, some type of membrane that separated them, allowing Kate to come to the forefront at times, but which Deem could easily push out of the way. Deem decided to ease up and allow Kate to take center stage.

  You liked him, Marion said.

  He was handsome but he seemed dull, Kate answered.

  Then who is Lorenzo? Marion asked. You were definitely thinking about him.

  I don’t know, Kate replied. I don’t know any Lorenzo.

  Marion went silent for a moment. Deem could sense she was confused; her sister was responding like a schizophrenic.

  They shot you, Marion said.

  You saw that? Kate asked. You were still alive enough to see it?

  I saw it, Marion replied. And I saw what they did to Father, too.

  Something terrible is inside him, Kate said. Someone horrible. It’s not our father, not completely.

  I know, Marion replied. If I were to let what’s inside me come out, I’m afraid I’d be a lunatic!

  It’s the same for all these people, Kate said. The whole party. They’re all possessed somehow.

  And you? Marion asked.

  I am too, Kate replied. But not by the same thing. I don’t feel the hatred. Whatever is inside me, it’s more confusion than hatred. It’s powerful, though. Can you control yours? Keep it down?

  Just barely, Marion answered.

  Whatever’s inside me, Kate replied, I can’t control. There’s a good chance that half of what I say to you might not be from me. You’ll have to sort out what’s what.

  That’s strange, Marion said. I can keep mine down, but you can’t. You’re normally stronger than me.

  Deem could feel Katherine poking at the membrane, trying to reach through and understand what was happening inside her ghost.

  Her name is Deem, Kate said to Marion. And she’s gifted
, like us. That’s why I can’t control her.

  Deem? Marion asked, concern in her voice. It’s another person inside you?

  They’re all people, Deem replied, taking control. Horrible, evil souls, all of them. Except me.

  Marion stopped walking and turned to her. You’re not Katherine, are you?

  Deem was surprised to see their father walking toward them, opposite the flow of the others. He stopped in front of them, his eyes glaring.

  I told you two to keep moving! he yelled, anger in his voice. Don’t you want to avenge our family?

  Then, as Deem and Marion watched, his face changed, revealing not just anger, but a potent malevolence that chilled them both. We’re gonna butcher them like sheep. I’ll hold ’em, and you’ll slit their throats, Kate, just like the farm.

  Deem felt a familiar horror pass through her; it was the person from the soul cage speaking through Paul, delighting in the impending violence. She watched as the man’s eyes glazed over with the vision of his desire, reveling in the blood to be spilt. He turned to keep walking.

  Pick up your feet, he muttered over his shoulder. I don’t want to have to tell you again.

  Deem felt herself taking a step, Marion at her side. As Paul slowly gained distance ahead of them, Marion turned to Deem.

  That’s not my father, she said.

  Apparently you raised sheep, Deem replied meekly, unsure what to say.

  Am I talking to Kate? Marion asked. Or Deem?

  Deem.

  We did raise sheep, but he never involved us in the butchering, Marion replied. He wouldn’t do that. He was always very protective of us, especially you. That wasn’t him speaking to us just now.

  It was the thing inside him, the thing you’re keeping down, Deem replied.

  Since you seem to know what’s happening to us, Marion said, I’d appreciate it if you’d share what you know. I’d like to understand it.

  It’s a long story, Deem replied.

  Marion chuckled. Then you’re perfectly suited inside Kate, she said. My sister is long-winded, and I’ve enjoyed dozens of her stories as we came west.