“They’re already dead,” Stacy said. “I know that. I knew that he would kill them no matter what I did. I just didn’t want to admit it. I wanted to hold out hope that he would let them go if I helped him. They’re dead and I was a part of a major terrorist attack. I deserve to be hated and to spend the rest of my life behind bars.”
After making the emotional hike back to the parking lot of the town park, Jen cursed at not having the keys to Lisa’s car and considered breaking a window so she could retrieve her overnight bag.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mac said. “For Flannigan’s plan to work, authorities need to think you’ve been either killed or abducted. Breaking a window and taking your suitcase doesn’t exactly fit into the narrative.”
Jen looked at the blood stains on her pants and coat sleeves. “I can’t wear these anymore.”
“I’ll take care of that. Let’s just get out of here before anyone spots us.”
They jumped into Mac’s van, pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards Mac’s apartment. “We can go back to my place and get cleaned up. I’ll run out and get you some clothes while you shower. You’ll just need to tell me what you want and what sizes you need. Once we’re both cleaned up and changed, we should be able to rest up and plan our next move. Flannigan said she’ll keep my name completely out of her story, which, I’m hoping means that no one will come looking for me. As for you, the entire country will be keeping an eye out for you so you really need to keep a low profile.”
“You seem really calm about this,” Jen said as the town park grew smaller in the distance. “Are you a detective or a military guy?”
“Substitute teacher, musician and now, full time sender.”
“Great. We should have no troubles at all.”
<<<<>>>>
“I wish I brought more cash with me when Lisa and I started this horrible trip. I feel bad that we have to use all your money.”
“Not a big deal,” Mac said. “I don’t have a lot of money saved up but I have enough. I’m thinking that if God or whomever is running point on this team we’re on, recruited us away from our normal, income-earning lives, that we shouldn’t have to worry about money.”
“You notice any mysterious cash in your wallet?” Jen asked.
“Not yet.”
“How about your bank account? Notice any deposits you didn’t make?”
“Well,” Mac said, “maybe money will show up when we need it and right now, we don’t need any more than what we have.”
“In other words, nothing. Right?”
“I haven’t worked out all the kinks in my ‘magic income’ theory yet.”
“Well, keep working on it. If this lasts as long as I’m feeling it will, we’re going to need money.”
Jen and Mac were eating Subway sandwiches in their shared hotel room outside of Binghamton, New York. The two, having no idea which direction to head after leaving Mac’s apartment, drove west towards Ohio. They would have continued towards Cleveland had they not run into the incredibly expansive cordon zone federal authorities established. The “no travel” zone stretched from Cleveland to Buffalo and from Columbus west to Pittsburgh. The cordon zone created a rhomboid-shaped area that displaced millions of people and prevented all travelers from entering the area.
“It feels like the apocalypse,” Jen said. “So eerie.”
“It kind of is, isn’t it?” Mac said. “Not good for the world but, I think it’s up to just you and me to prevent this from really turning into the end of everything.”
The events that happened at the pond were still fuzzy in Mac’s mind. He clearly remembered being in the “in-between,” the man he told his story to, and the feeling of being both rooted and pulled. Though he knew the basics of what happened at the pond, memories of what had transpired from the time he first saw Novak till he was sitting next to the fire were sketchy at best. But when he needed to remember something, something he saw, felt or heard, the memory revealed itself.
“Actually,” he continued, “it’s not just the two of us.”
“What are you talking about?” Jen asked.
“I remember Rachel telling me that there were twelve senders but that something recently happened and that I was now one of nine senders. You and I make two…”
“Which leaves seven others like us.”
“Nine against Hell. I like our odds. Nine to save the world.”
The two finished their takeout meal then exchanged blank looks with each other.
“Any ideas?” Mac said.
“Nothing. I have literally no idea what we should do, where we should go or who we should look for. How about you?”
Mac paused, rubbed his hands vigorously on his thighs, then said, “I know Rachel turned out to be, well, more than just a really bad partner, but she did give me some very useful information. I don’t think she thought I had any chance of surviving, but she needed me to fully trust her. She had no worries about giving me clues that would end up helping me if I did survive.”
“Like what clues?”
“After I sent my first demon back, she acted as if she didn’t know much about demons and suggested that I might know more than she did. She had me play this game where she would ask me questions and I would, for the lack of a better term, ‘stream’ answers. You know, just let ideas flow.”
“You think we should try it? I’ll ask you questions and you let it flow?”
“I think, since we’re both senders, that we should both let it flow. Ask each other questions and see what comes to us.”
“Okay,” Jen sighed. “I don’t have any other ideas, so, let’s give it a try. What is our next step?”
“Here’s what I’m feeling,” Mac started. “You said you’re certain you hit Rachel with two shots, right?”
“Yes. One in the shoulder and one in the gut.”
“And since Novak was killed by your shot, it proves that demons can be killed.”
“I thought we established that already,” Jen said, her impatience bleeding through her words.
“If Rachel took two bullets, including one in the gut, chances are high she’s dead.” Mac felt a familiar and unwanted pang in his heart. Despite everything that happened, and despite how much he wanted to hate Rachel for what she had done and who (what) she turned out to be, the pang he felt when he suggested that she might be dead was real. The feeling of remorse, sorrow and loss, though fleeting, was filled with a momentary desire to change what had happened. That brief slash in time during which the pang existed, strived to create its own reality, to rewrite what had happened, to make it perfectly right to still have the feelings Mac harbored for Rachel.
“Maybe, but her being dead or alive doesn’t change the fact that you and I are sitting in a hotel room without a clue what we should do next. I have no idea where you’re going with this, Mac. Sorry, but I don’t think this game of Rachel’s is going to bring us to any better understanding.”
“Like I said when I started this train of thought, this is what I’m feeling. I’m not saying there’s logic behind this, just a feeling. Make sense?”
Jen said, “Okay. Sorry. Keep going.”
“I have a feeling Rachel is dead. That other demon, the old one that jumped into the pond…”
“O’Keefe. Flannigan said he is, or was, a Catholic Cardinal.”
“Right. I think O’Keefe won’t be leaving that pond anytime soon. Stacy also said that she heard Henry Winchester tell O’Keefe that he was an important part of his plan. So, if Rachel is dead and O’Keefe’s cover has been blown or will be as soon as Flannigan tells authorities that he was involved, Henry is up shit creek.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that he’s a demon and, based on what I’ve seen, will want revenge.”
“You feel he will come after us?” Jen said.
“Stacy said that Henry had five demons and her as part of his team. We know about O’Keefe, Novak, Rachel and the one in Cleveland that
masterminded the plague attack.”
“Badr Irani,” Jen said. “Stacy mentioned his name and, for whatever reason, I remembered it.”
“Stacy told us that she knows she can’t tell the authorities that Badr, O’Keefe, Novak and Winchester are demons but that she will absolutely tell them they were involved in the attack and that they are probably planning more attacks. Since Flannigan told us already that Badr went into hiding, we can assume that he went even deeper into hiding.”
“Or, since he is a demon, that he made his way back to Hell?” Jen was still getting familiar with her role and the realization that the stories of angels, demons, God and the devil she was told growing up were all true. Though she had always believed that there was something beyond her understanding, coming face to face with a still unexpected reality was more than emotionally challenging.
“I don’t think so,” Mac said. “Stacy said she overheard bits and pieces of conversations between Henry and his team about Henry dethroning someone and taking his rightful spot. To me, it sounds like Henry is using the attacks on Earth as a way to take over Hell. And if that’s the truth, the last place anyone on his side would want to be until Henry succeeds is back in Hell. There could be some pretty serious consequences for any demon switching alliances down there.”
“So, you think that Badr will stay in hiding until whatever Henry is planning down below ends?”
“He won’t take any chances of being located up here, so, yes. I have a feeling that unless we run into him face to face, he’s not a threat to us.”
“But,” Jen said, “he’s still a demon and still needs to be sent back. I’m still getting my head around this, but we are senders, after all. And, as senders, our job is to send demons back.”
“We will, but only after we send Henry back,” Mac answered.
“Same holds for O’Keefe?”
“I think so. He won’t risk exposure either. He may just stay in that pond till this whole thing is over. I feel that our focus has to be on finding Henry and sending him back. Once we do that, I believe we’ll get a message about our next steps.”
“But,” Jen said, “if what Stacy heard is right, there’s still another demon on Henry’s team running around. A demon that we know nothing about. Any ideas about that one?” Jen paused. Her mind flashed back to the message she received from her Kindle about being a sender. Mac shared with her about the message he had received while walking on the trail to the pond. “Mac, do you think the messages we received were just the messages we needed to receive right then and there, or do you think the way we received those messages was a sign as well?”
“Not following,” Mac said.
“I saw flashing words while reading my Kindle and you saw special letters in trail marker signs. What do they both have in common, the way the messages came to us?”
“Both messages came to us in words, not feelings.”
“This game you’re playing, this ‘streaming thoughts’ game, I’m not feeling anything except that, to me, you’re trying to force logical thinking on to something that defies all logic. It isn’t logical to believe in God, the Devil or angels and demons, but we both know they are real. At least, we know demons are real. But logic says otherwise. I’m not saying what you’re feeling is wrong, but instead of using logic to guide us, maybe we need to look for messages the same way the messages were already sent to us?”
“By reading?”
“Exactly,” Jen said. “And I have a pretty good idea what book we should be reading.”
Mac stood and bolted to the nightstand. He pulled open the drawer and removed a Gideon’s Bible. “Jen,” he said, “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are on the same side as me! This is a brilliant idea.”
“Thanks,” Jen said. “But I honestly have to tell you that I wish I was back in my office in D.C. working for a member of Congress that wasn’t involved with demons. I want my life back. No offense.”
“Trust me,” Mac said, “there’s nothing more I’d like than to wake up and have these last couple of weeks turn out to be nothing more than a bad dream. But you and I both know that’s not going to happen. We both know this is real. This is our new reality. I don’t know of any upside to being a sender, but I have to believe there’s something good about it. There has to be something good about being a sender.”
“Maybe what’s good about being who you and I are will be a flashing message in that book you’re holding.”
“Only one way to find out.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
His concern turned to anger then graduated to fury. Being who he was and having earned the rewards that he had, Henry didn’t need to rely on the usual and limited means of discovery. His team, O’Keefe, Rachel and Novak, had failed him. Badr must have picked up on what happened as well and was not in the hiding place he and Henry agreed to. He had no way of connecting with Phillip, no good way, that was.
He was alone and it seemed inevitable that his plan would fail.
He sat on a dusty chair in the run-down fishing cabin off the shore of Lake Michigan—the place he had so diligently chosen as the hideout and meeting place for Badr—and forced his thoughts to obey his commands.
“I don’t need them,” he said after his rage quelled. “I don’t need any of them now. The terror has been released, despite their failure. All I need,” he admitted, “is for Phillip to complete his mission.”
His agents, those who wafted formlessly in between Hell and Earth and moved only in cold, fetid smelling breezes, were still at his command. They could still be called upon to bring him information. They could still serve as his guardians, his silent informants.
And Henry knew he needed them.
These silent servants had told Henry when the sender, who worked for Flannigan, was getting too close to uncovering part of his plan. They informed him of the disaster at the pond and how O’Keefe was cowering beneath the assumed protection of that same pond. They delivered a message to O’Keefe and returned to him O’Keefe’s reply: “You will fail and I will not suffer the consequences of your failure.” These invisible agents tried to revive Rachel as she lay, bleeding, then dying in the woods. But they were only messengers, spies, and lacked any power or ability to alter the consequences of actions set in motion.
Badr felt their presence and only ignored and sent them away. “Tell him that he has no power over me that I do not give him. And I give him nothing,” was all Henry received from their efforts.
Novak was dead; his soul was floating, drifting, in a murkiness so deep that it would take centuries for him to gain even a whisper of awareness.
Henry was alone. If Phillip failed, his fate would be worse than what he could even imagine.
But if Phillip succeeded?
The Earth and that which lies beneath, would be his.
Henry allowed his anger to run through its familiar course. He knew it would lead him nowhere but still, he knew better than to attempt any redirection. “I’ll find those fucking senders and rip every ounce of hope and life from their pathetic bodies,” his anger insisted.
He waited for his anger to bring him other directions to take, then began to wonder if there were any other directions for him.
There was nothing he could do to help Phillip. He needed to find the senders.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Where do you think we should start?”
“I’m far from a Bible expert,” Jen answered, “but I’m pretty sure Genesis is where the Bible starts so it makes sense for us to do the same. Don’t you think?”
After having retrieved the Bible from the nightstand drawer, Mac had been standing in front of Jen, holding the book and nervously shaking his head.
“Why are you so nervous about reading the Bible?” Jen asked. A flash of terror crossed her face. She stood up and began backing away from Mac, never moving her eyes off of his. She felt her way to the door then reached for the door handle.
“What the hell are you doing?�
�� Mac asked.
“Why can’t you open that Bible?” Jen asked, her voice creased with fear. “Open it. Prove that you can open it.”
“You’re not thinking… Jen, do you think I’m one of them? Seriously?”
“Open that Bible.”
“Jen, I’ll read whatever you want from any book in this Bible. Jeez, Jen, I’m just scared as hell that you and I will open this book, start reading and not get any message. Actually, the truth is, I’m scared that either we won’t get a message or that we will get a message and that message will tell us that we have to face this Henry character face to face. Or that we need to kill Satan himself using nothing but two spoons and a Dixie cup. I’m scared, Jen, about everything and everyone. What Rachel did to me hurt me. Think what you want about me and how I felt about her, but she hurt me. I try to do what I guess I have to do for the rest of my life, and for my efforts, I get my ass kicked and, if not for you, I get killed.
“I don’t trust anyone, Jen, and I am pissed as hell that my life is over. I will never have a relationship, will never fall in love, will never get married, never have kids, will never get to complain about my boss and get a fucking gold watch after working in some shit job for twenty-five years. You wonder why I’m having trouble opening up this Bible? Because I’m scared as hell and pissed off that I’m a sender and had no choice in becoming one. That’s why.”
Mac threw the Bible across the room. It smacked against the wall above one of the room’s queen beds then fell open onto the pillow.
Jen stood, staring wide-eyed at Mac, who was staring at the Bible laying open on the bed a few feet beside him. His fear, anger and pain were palpable, filling the room with a suspense-filled stillness. Jen released her grip of the door handle, dropped her arms listlessly to her side, then sighed heavily. “Mac, I’m sorry that I…”
“Shhh,” Mac said, holding a raised hand towards her. His face was intense, filled with a renewed sense of awe and of fear. “Look at the words,” he whispered as he pointed at the Bible and the white pillow it sat on. As if the pages of the Bible were made of metal and the words were magnets that had lost their attraction, letters and words were slipping from the pages and onto the crisp, white pillowcase. As the words flowed from the Bible, they began to form words, sentences and, Mac hoped, directions.
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