Final Crossing: A Novel of Suspense

by Carter Wilson

  Jonas recalled the voice on the phone. Hooah. That felt like centuries ago. He pushed against the rope again. He thought it gave a bit more, but more likely it was his hope outwitting reality. He had to keep trying.

  Rudiger disappeared once again into the dark. When he returned, an unlit cigarette dangled off his lower lip. He reached up with cupped hands and lit it, blowing smoke through flared nostrils.

  “That is so good,” he said. “Think maybe I’ll even have two.”

  He smoked silently as Jonas watched him, pushing with his legs and chest against the ropes. The room filled with a haze, the smoke floating in and out of the spotlights, making everything look like a stage production rather than the site of a mass killing. As Rudiger was nearly done with his first smoke he began to speak.

  “Preacherman came to me for a reason. God’s will. Preacherman stole me from myself, him and the whore. They took and took until there was nothing left, and when he finally had his fill I killed him. My first blood. Wish I got her too, but I didn’t. She disappeared like smoke and I never did see her again.” He flicked ash to the floor. “That’s okay. I found her lookalike back in Cleveland, so that felt pretty all right feeling my fists on her.” He looked at Jonas, staring deep into him. “But it was supposed to be that way, don’t you see, sir? Preacherman was supposed to do what he did, because all God wanted was for me to learn, and learn I did from him. God gave focus to the desires I have. God gave me direction. God gave me a mission. Otherwise who knows what sorts of havoc I might have wreaked in my life.”

  Then he fell silent.

  Jonas thought the rope was stretched just enough so he might be able to free one arm, but not without a lot of struggle. With Rudiger in front of him, he couldn’t do anything about it.

  Then he did as Jonas hoped—walked into the dark. Jonas strained and pulled against the ropes, feeling them dig and burn into his skin, trying to be as quiet as he could. He saw the Senator lift his head and look in his direction, but wasn’t sure if there was enough light for Sidams to see him. Jonas was able to move his right arm up a couple of inches, but the ropes were too high on his chest to slip his arm free. He needed more slack.

  Seconds later, Rudiger returned to the light. A freshly lit cigarette occupied his mouth. A hunting knife dangled from his right hand. The blade was stained with the blood of ears.

  “Then I remembered something else. This time it was my daddy. I was on the beach. He took me out into the water.” Long, slow drag. Exhale. Eyes closed. “Don’t much matter about the details. But what matters is what he said to me.”

  Jonas felt the sweat tickle his neck. “What did he say to you?”

  “He said, ‘I am pleased with you.’” He looked at Jonas. “You don’t understand, do you?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “You read the Bible?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s why, then.” Rudiger was silent for many minutes. His voiced seemed to echo when he resumed. “Immediately coming up out of the water, He saw the heavens opening, and the Spirit like a dove descending upon Him; and a voice came out of the heavens: ‘You are My beloved Son, in You I am well-pleased.’ Immediately the Spirit impelled Him to go out into the wilderness.”

  Jonas sensed a vague familiarity but nothing more.

  “All I needed to do was remember the time before the Preacherman. That one memory of my time in the water with my daddy.” Rudiger’s gaze burned into him. “Don’t you see, Lieutenant? It was jes like Jesus with John. Jes like that.”

  Fire-eyed and smoke pouring from his nose, Rudiger walked up to Jonas. Down on one knee. Cigarette dropped to the ground. Rudiger lifted his knife and dug deep into Jonas with his gaze.

  “Time to go to the wilderness.” Then he cut the ropes off.

  51

  RUDIGER STANDS back and looks at him. Ropes cut and twisted on the floor. Jonas doesn’t move.

  “Get up,” Rudiger says. “Slow now. Legs’ll be weak from the gas.”

  Jonas waits a second before standing. He’s off-balance when he does.

  “Don’t try to do anything to me. You’ll get that soon enough.”

  “Where is she?” Jonas asks. “Not here.”

  Jonas wobbles.

  “You don’t get it, do you?,” Rudiger says. “No.”

  He looks over to Sidams. Man don’t have long. Doesn’t matter. Those two are just window dressing. Part of the performance. Not the main actor.

  “Cross is for me, Lieutenant.”

  “You?”

  “It was me the whole time. The whole time. I’m the One.” Jonas takes a step forward. Wobbly.

  “Not Anne?”

  “No. Me.” Rudiger loses himself in his memory, clinging to it like the only copy of a rare photograph. “I didn’t even need my ability. I jes needed to remember the words from my daddy. He was right all along. I am special.”

  “Where is she?”

  Rudiger snaps his attention back to Jonas. “Dyin.’ Like I said.”

  “How are you going to get...on the cross?”

  Rudiger squeezes his fists, then opens all fingers. The knife falls to the floor.

  “You’re going to do it. Just like the others. ‘Cept the ear part—that ain’t necessary for me. Need to wait a few minutes for you to get your strength. Lot of work.”

  “You want me to nail you to that?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “You want to die?”

  “Not a matter of want. I am the Son of Man.”

  Silence. Rudiger follows Jonas’s gaze, which shifts to the

  Senator. Back to Rudiger. “How do I get Anne?”

  “You do a good job, I’ll tell you where she is. Before I die.”

  “What if you die too soon?”

  “Then she dies, too.”

  “Is this for real?”

  “What else would it be?”

  He spits on the floor, dry mouth. Should probably have some water, but doesn’t do anything about it. Another cigarette would be nice, but doesn’t want to indulge. He walks over and looks at the cross on the floor. Rudiger sits on the floor, then stretches out over the beams. Arms outright. Back stiff against cool wood.

  “Take your time. When you’re ready, come over.” Rudiger watches as Jonas stumbles over to the Senator.

  He doesn’t tell Jonas not to help the man. He’s smart, Rudiger thinks. He’ll figure that out. Sure enough, all Jonas manages is to touch his leg, small gesture. Wipe off some blood. He says something to Sidams. Rudiger can’t hear it. Maybe a promise. Then Jonas goes over to the Ambassador. Stares down at him, but doesn’t touch the body.

  Then Jonas walks into the dark. Seconds later, the room fills with light. The door he found swings open and Rudiger sees Jonas step out into the daylight. Feeble breeze rustles through the hangar. Death rattle breath. Jonas wants to run, Rudiger thinks. Run into the light. The safety of day. The open plains. But he won’t. He’ll shut that door and come back to the death around him. Because it’s the only thing he can do.

  Jonas does just that. Disappears back into the dark. Emerges into the light. Looks down upon Rudiger. Air still and heavy.

  “How does this work?”

  “Pick up the mallet and a spike.”

  He nods at the floor next to him, but he doesn’t need to.

  Spikes next to a cross tend to be obvious. Jonas does as he’s told, his movements slow and unsure.

  “Be easier with you on your knees.”

  Jonas gets on his knees. Rudiger can feel his breath. He stares at the spotlight above him, burning into his flesh. He thinks he’s ready, but he doesn’t know. What if I’m wrong?

  Preacherman’s voice. Preacherman’s words. You ain’t wrong, boy. Now do it good and deep. But I’ve been wrong before.

  Believe in your faith. And don’t be a pussy. Pain won’t last long.

  I don’t fear the pain.

  Tell him exactly how to do it.

  I know.


  “Left wrist first,” Rudiger says to Jonas. “Between the two bones leading up to the forearm.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Don’t get sick on me now.”

  “What if I hit an artery?”

  “You won’t.”

  Jonas wipes his forehead then places the sharp end of the spike on Rudiger’s forearm.

  “Lower.”

  The metal is cool, despite the heat in the room. The weight against the skin feels satisfying. Solid. Real.

  “Here?”

  “That’ll do it. Get the mallet.”

  Jonas picks it up. Holds it with a shaking right hand. “First strike hard, not soft. Drive it through.”

  “I...oh, God.”

  “You can do it.”

  “I know. Just give me a minute.”

  “You’re important, Lieutenant. Always have been. You’re saving the world and don’t even believe it.”

  The Senator gurgles a cough in the distance. Jonas closes his eyes.

  “You praying?”

  The man doesn’t answer. He’s lost somewhere else, another world. Another time. Building a purpose to do what has to be done. Then all is still, like a still that’s never been. No more breathing. No more shaking.

  He’s ready.

  Eyes open. Fierce. Resolved. Jonas lifts the mallet. High above the head.

  “God bless you,” Rudiger says.

  The blow is crushing, and Rudiger feels a pain and a glory he hasn’t felt since Jerusalem. Excruciating and humbling. He is on the road, no longer lost. Jonas pounds the nail. Two times. Three. Rudiger says nothing. No scream. No begging. With every crushing blow there is a certainty of right. Of belonging.

  He looks down at his arm, the metal protrusion an organic extension of his body. He feels himself smile. Wonders if he is. Blood pours from the wound.

  “Where is she?”

  Rudiger looks at his right arm. He feels a liquid run from his left eye, not knowing if it’s a tear or blood. Then he starts to hum.

  “We’re jes gettin’ started.”

  52

  JONAS FORCED himself to hammer the spike five times before turning away and retching on the floor. Hardly anything came out. His stomach twisted, and his throat burned with fire. When he finally turned back, he could see the pain on Rudiger’s face, but the man kept his eyes closed and kept humming.

  Jonas didn’t recognize the song.

  “We don’t have to do this,” Jonas said.

  Rudiger coughed and caught his breath. “Yes, Lieutenant, we do.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Test the nail, Lieutenant. Grab it and pull. Make sure it’s hard and fast in the wood. You don’t want it giving out.”

  Jonas didn’t move.

  Rudiger opened his eyes and glared at Jonas. “Do it.”

  Jonas reached over and grabbed the spike, which disappeared into Rudiger’s wrist. He pulled it weakly toward him. Rudiger grimaced.

  “I...I think it’s okay,” Jonas said. “Now the other one,” Rudiger said. “Why are you doing this?”

  “The other one, Lieutenant.”

  Jonas closed his eyes for a moment and tried to escape to a happier place, but there was no happy place to be found. He could smell the coppery blood. The sweat.

  He reached out and grabbed the second spike and held it in his hands. It felt heavy as a brick, and the metal became slippery with the sweat of his palm.

  Rudiger struggled to find his voice. “That’s it now. Do my other wrist the same way.”

  Jonas slowly placed the tip of the spike on top of the milky wrist and studied it. He held the mallet firmly in his right hand but did not yet raise it up.

  Rudiger’s voice was raspy and slow. “Be angry, Lieutenant, if that helps. Think of what I’ve done, if that gets your job accomplished. But I ain’t the monster you think I am. When you do what you gotta do, and I do what I gotta do, the heavens will open, the dead will rise, the good will be saved, and the evil will be damned. Judgment day. It all happens now.” Jonas shook his head. “All that’s happening here is murder and suicide. You’re just going to die.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “Just tell me where she is, please.”

  “One more nail, Lieutenant. I ain’t gonna make you do my feet. Just one more nail, then that’s it.”

  Jonas looked at the cross and saw the piece of wood extending outward beneath Rudiger’s feet. Just a few inches, but enough to stand on once the cross was vertical. Stages and Sidams didn’t get that courtesy, Jonas thought. They got a spike hammered through both feet.

  “I’ll live a little longer that way,” Rudiger said. “And once you have me up, I can tell you where your girl is.”

  “Why?” Jonas asked. “Why what?”

  “Why everything? Why did you kill that family in Somalia?”

  “Because I was supposed to. The sign outside the building even said so. It was a test. Make sure I could do what I needed to do later.”

  Rudiger’s face suddenly lost a shade of its already pallor tone and his head lolled briefly to the side before snapping back.

  Stop wasting time, Jonas. He’s going to lose consciousness and

  Anne will die.

  Jonas steadied the spike. “Here?”

  Rudiger coughed and looked at his arm. “Inch lower.” Jonas moved the spike, and Rudiger gave a feeble nod. “Those words you see, Rudiger. In your head. Those puzzles. They’re just gibberish, you know. They aren’t clues to anything. We can stop this all right now.”

  “She’s dying, Lieutenant. Hammer the nail down.” Jonas eyed the rust-brown head of the spike.

  Jonas let out a long, slow breath. “Close your eyes,” he said. He didn’t know why he wanted to give any comfort to the man, but it just seemed inhuman not to.

  Rudiger closed his eyes and the humming started again. Jonas raised the mallet and smashed it down on the head of the spike. The tip punched through the flesh but not to the wood. Jonas struck it again. Three times. Four. Five.

  Blood oozed from the wound but did not spurt. The spike seemed as deep as the other, and Jonas reached out and tested its firmness. It moved a little, but Jonas could hammer no more.

  Sweat poured from Rudiger’s face. “Good. Good.”

  Jonas shut off emotionally. He no longer cared what was happening. He had an objective, and that objective was to save Anne. He could only do that by completing the task at hand, and his Ranger training took over. He would follow instructions and do what it took to find out where she was.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Use...” Rudiger coughed harder and his body spasmed. His muscles flexed and contracted, each one pronounced in its definition. “Use the pulley and rope. Lift me. Shouldn’t... shouldn’t be too hard. Use the gloves.”

  One end of a long piece of rope was tied around a hook drilled into the top the cross. The rope ran to the ceiling, over a pulley, and back down to the floor.

  Jonas stood. He noticed the base edge of the cross already aligned in a small but deep hole dug into the floor. Once Jonas starting raising the cross, the base should slip into the hole easily.

  “Lift me up, Lieutenant. The glory is upon us.”

  Jonas found the gloves on the floor and put them on, feeling the dampness of Rudiger’s sweat inside them. He then picked up the rope on the floor. He knew that once the cross started moving, the pain for the man would be excruciating.

  It didn’t matter. Jonas had a job.

  He steadied his footing and pulled on the rope. Nothing happened. The weight seemed unbearable. But on a second effort the top of Rudiger’s cross began to lift from the floor.

  Jonas strained and resisted dropping the rope, which his arms were insisting on. He reached up and grabbed more rope and heaved again.

  The top steadily rose. Higher.

  After the halfway point, just as his arms were sure to give out, the effort eased. The brunt of the weight had been transferred back to the flo
or, and the cross slid into the depth of the hole beneath it. The cross wobbled, then settled.

  Rudiger was raised.

  53

  JONAS RELEASED the rope and stood back.

  Rudiger towered over him, and a bright spotlight perfectly positioned at the ceiling of the hangar shone directly onto the dying man. Sweat covered his body in a sheen. The red of the blood from his wrists looked like rose petals flowering from beneath his pasty skin.

  He was conscious. His feet found their pedestal, and, though he seemed weak, he had the strength to support his own weight. For now.

  “Now you tell me,” Jonas said. “I did what you wanted. Now tell me where she is.”

  A tendril of drool released from Rudiger’s lower lip and stretched toward the floor. He squeezed his eyes, as if willing the pain and the fog away, then opened them and looked down at Jonas.

  “Do you understand what I’m doing is good, Lieutenant?”

  “Tell me where she is.”

  “Do you realize this is the end of the suffering? That everything Preacherman and his whore did to me, it all ends here?”

  “Yes, I understand,” Jonas lied. He understood nothing. “Now please just tell me.”

  The room grew suddenly quiet. Through the silence, Rudiger sucked in a long, deep breath.

  “This is salvation, and you are part of it. God loves you for it.” He licked his lips. Tongue like a serpent. “I love you for it. Your soul will be saved.”

  Jonas looked at him, and in the light and through the sweat and the blood, Jonas had never in his life seen a man so in belief of what he was saying. Rudiger was a homicidal sociopath, but Jonas knew he truly believed in what he was saying.

  Jonas spoke.

  “Let me tell you something, Rudiger. If Anne dies, I’m going to come back and light your body on fire. Hopefully you’ll still be alive so you can feel the pain of that. But even if you’re not, you won’t get what you want, and you’ll have died for nothing. You’ll be a goddamned chunk of lifeless, smoldering cinder. Now tell me where the fuck she is.”

  54

  RUDIGER WATCHES the man who watches him. Eye contact is brief, and then Jonas turns and runs from the hanger. When the door opens, bright sunlight floods in like water, and Rudiger wonders what heaven looks like.