The Eye of Madness

  “Okay Private Abernathy, if you’ll come with me I’ll escort you to the base hospital so they can check your head out,” he said.

  Jack didn’t know why he was being so formal. Everyone called the base hospital the dispensary because they got prescription drugs from there. Jack didn’t argue, he followed the soldier across the parade ground and to the long, two story hospital. One of the base doctors immediately saw Jack. His name was Dr. Peter Kincaid, a man who Jack knew well. The doctor visited the Impal barracks most nights to hear stories from J.M. Barrie, the Peter Pan author.

  “Jack, what did you bloody do to yourself?” he asked.

  “Ah, it was pretty damned stupid,” Jack said. He then proceeded to tell him the bogus tale of his clumsiness, omitting, of course, the part about the old woman in the cage.

  “Well … you’re going to need about three stitches,” Dr. Kincaid said as he examined the wound. “You’re damn lucky you don’t have a concussion.”

  Dr. Kincaid administered a local anesthetic, and then proceeded to clean and suture the wound. As he worked, Jack took the opportunity to question him about the MP’s strange behavior and equally strange questions.

  “You know … he asked me if I was wandering about in the dark last night!” Jack laughed. “Isn’t it hilarious?”

  He expected Dr. Kincaid to laugh along with him, but the reflection of doctor’s face in the glass cabinet in front of him was anything but amicable.

  “What is it?” Jack asked.

  Dr. Kincaid could not look him in the eye since he was stitching the back of Jack’s head, but he wouldn’t have done so anyway. He was too scared and confused.

  “Last night … there were a few civilian deaths.”

  “What, they wandered into the dark?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, but it was why they wound up in the dark in the first place. It was quite disconcerting.”

  There was a long pause as Dr. Kincaid retrieved a bandage to place over Jack’s stitches. Finally, suspense goaded Jack into asking the obvious question.

  “What?”

  “There were three folks who lured them there.”

  In an instant, Jack knew where this conversation was headed. He knew he must play dumb for his own sake, so he asked a dumb question. “How did they get lured?”

  “Well, there were three people who the dark didn’t seem to have any effect on. They were wandering about in pitch blackness and taunting everyone. As in most large crowds, there are always one or two morons who can be convinced of anything, or have more balls than brains.”

  “What a bunch of idiots,” Jack thought but did not say.

  “They convinced about five people to come and join them. At least we think there were only five … we’re still picking up body parts by the south tree line. One of them managed to get hold of a grenade and, well, there is enough mess out there to be two people.” Dr. Kincaid grimaced and shook his head. “The others, … one of them managed to almost hack their own head off with a field utility shovel. Then there was a child …” he shook his head and trailed off. “Suffice it to say, last night was a bad night.”

  “Why were these people able to walk about in the dark without harm?” Jack asked with sincere curiosity. He didn’t know for sure himself and wanted to know if the military developed some plausible theory. He also wanted to cover his own butt.

  “I don’t know,” Dr. Kincaid said. “They’re holding them in the stockade until they get some answers.”

  “Do they consider them threats?” Jack asked.

  Dr. Kincaid revered at him as if he were mad. Jack realized he was overplaying his hand.

  “Well … they did invite those poor people to come out there with them so … yeah, I guess you could say they are a bloody threat!” Dr. Kincaid snapped.

  Jack stared at the floor. “Of course,” he muttered.

  Jack’s mind raced as he thought of what they could be doing to those three special individuals similar to himself. They were locked up just because they were different? Well, okay, they shouldn’t have tempted people to come out with them. That was pretty ignorant, but it wasn’t as if they dragged the people outside and threw them into the dark. These people, these morons, had done so on their own free will. Isn’t it what his grandfather used to call ‘chlorinating the gene pool’? Of course, Jack saw himself as one of humanities’ pool boys, a job in which he took pride. A job which he thought he might be getting fired from when two beefy military policemen entered the exam room.

  “Is he done, Doc?” one of them asked harshly.

  Dr. Kincaid nodded and stepped back from the table.

  “Private Jack Abernathy, please come with us,” the other MP demanded.

  “Where?” Jack asked as he got to his feet. Fear and anger surged through him like two competing poisons. He already knew where and he knew who to blame. He should have killed her last night.

  “We’re taking you to the stockade for observation,” the officer replied without emotion.

  Rebekah, Malakhi, and the man in a woman’s body waited three hours for a shower. Rebekah thought it was well worth the wait. She felt much better and Ruth was much more tolerable to be around … at least in the physical sense. Ruth was strange in the questions she asked, but not as much as the way she watched Rebekah and Malakhi. It was always subtle, when Ruth thought Rebekah was not paying attention. It was starting to give her the creeps.

  Rebekah’s comfort level was so diminished; she talked to one of the officers at the base, requesting a tent transfer for her and her son. They told her the obvious … space was at a premium and they couldn’t move people around now.

  “But what if she does something?” Rebekah pleaded.

  “Report it and we will deal with it. Until then, there is nothing we can do,” he stopped and grinned before walking away. What he said caused Rebekah to turn red faced with anger. “Besides … she’s an old woman, what is she going to do to a strong and firm woman like yourself?”

  Rebekah wasn’t sure what bothered her the most, his condescending attitude or his lack of empathy. She turned with clinched fists and strode to the edge of a large field where Malakhi was playing soccer with several other boys. She plopped down on the grass and absently stared at the game. She wasn’t watching; Malakhi could have scored ten goals and she wouldn’t have noticed.

  This was the first time she had any time to reflect on the last couple of days. Her mind locked into a repeating playback of events from the last two days and the last few months. She was so thrilled to have her father back. After the initial shock wore off, it was like old times again. When he disappeared and the darkness gained a malevolent life, it was an indescribable pain. A pain she supposed millions were now experiencing; the pain of losing someone for a second time.

  The dark horror and her concern for her son did not allow for any time to grieve and reflect, so she now made up for lost time. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as she hugged her knees and buried her head on them.

  No one sat near her and she was alone in her own private world of grief. Of course, she was not really alone. Someone watched her from behind, out of sight around the corner of a tent. The same hungry expression washed over Ruth’s face as he … it watched Rebekah wallow in her personal anguish.

  CHAPTER 22

  LESSONS

  “You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment unless you trust.”

  ~Frank Crane

  In his mind, Cecil was with his daughters again. They lay snuggled in an enormous hammock with Abbs under one arm and Steff under the other. He was happy, he was content, and love covered them like a warm and tangible blanket. Barbara watched from a nearby lounge chair as they swung to and fro in a lazy summer breeze. There was no storm, there had never been a storm, the world was as it always was … perhaps better.

  Cecil inhaled and closed his eyes, pulling his daughters tight. As he listened to the wind rustling the leaves and the faint babble of a nearby strea
m, it slowly started to change. The more he listened, the more the joyous paradise began to slip away. A dreadful sound began to morph out of the perfect ambiance of the woods. It was the dark. Cecil felt his girls slipping away. He saw Steff’s pleading eyes, her face agape with horror. He tried to speak, but no words would come. He grabbed her as tight as he could and turned to Abbs. To his surprise, her face was calm and serene.

  He tried to call out to her, yet his voice still wouldn’t work. He tried to pull her tight and was shocked when he realized that his arm was slipping right through her. He felt the strange mixture of warmth and cold as the living get when they penetrate and Impal. He saw she now exhibited a luminescent glow. His arm had almost passed completely through her when she said, “I am okay, dad. Take care of mom and endure, it will be okay.”

  The next instant, she faded from sight. Yet, unlike when she disappeared before, she did not seem afraid. She was anything but afraid.

  Cecil turned his full attention back to Steff, but it was no use. Regardless of how hard he tried to hold on to her, she still continued to slip until she fell over the edge. Cecil lunged for her, but she was gone too. He then turned to Barbara. She lay motionless in the lounge chair, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling. He cried out and was startled when he felt a couple of gentle hands grasp his shoulders.

  “Cecil … Cecil … it’s Sally,” he heard a soft voice say.

  A second later, he breached the gap between waking and dreams. He found he was sitting in the floor of the cabin. Bright sunlight streamed in from every direction, but he could still hear the faint call of the dark in the woods, as in his dream. Most people awake from a nightmare and are relieved they have been dreaming, but Cecil was just the opposite. His daughters were gone, Barbara was still catatonic, and they were surrounded by deadly darkness. Recalling where he was, he jerked his head towards Musial. He was gone.

  “Where …?” he began, then Sally stopped him with a soft pat on the back.

  “He’s outside with Burt and Derrick. They are giving him lessons,” she said.

  Cecil stared at her, dumfounded. She shrugged and indicated he should join them. He eased to his feet and tried to shake the cobwebs from his head.

  “You passed out right after Burt started watching that thing. You were exhausted and you needed your sleep, so we left you alone.”

  “How long?” he asked as he walked over and knelt by Barbara, stroking her hair.

  “A couple of hours … long enough … we already ate breakfast.”

  “I saved you some!” Charlotte called from the kitchen doorway.

  “Thanks,” Cecil muttered, not taking his eyes off Barbara. He wasn’t hungry, even though he probably should be. Stress and fear make a formidable appetite suppressant. When it came to food he didn’t think of himself, he thought of Barbara.

  “We’ve got to get some food in her,” Cecil said, fighting back tears. She looked gaunt, even though it had only been a little over a day. The experience and the after effects were taking a toll on her.

  “I already thought of it,” Charlotte said. “I’m cooking up a special broth for her. If she can swallow water, she can swallow broth.”

  Cecil smiled. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

  She blushed, and went back to her cooking. Soon a hearty, rich aroma drifted from the kitchen.

  Cecil tended to Barbara’s private needs. Sally and Charlotte had fashioned a makeshift diaper for her yesterday. He changed her, cleaned her, and redressed her in a pair of sweat pants provided by Charlotte. He couldn’t help crying as he worked. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to tend to him in his geriatric frailty, but not for at least another forty years. He never considered Barbara would ever be in this position. She was too strong, too beautiful, and to him, she was an immortal goddess.

  When he finished, he kissed her and then went outside to join Burt and Derrick in their training session with Musial. They were teaching him how to drive. Burt was sitting in the passenger seat, giving instruction, while Derrick sat in the back. His gun trained at the back of Musial’s head. They had no idea if shooting Andrews’s body would stop Musial or not. It seemed the prudent thing to do. There was a day and a half, maybe two days, of gas left. Musial was the only one who could make it through the woods unmolested. The only way he could do this and get back in time is if he drove.

  A knot formed in Cecil’s stomach as he stood and watched the herky-jerky maneuvering of the SUV in the large circular area of the drive. It reminded him of when he gave Abbs driving lessons only a few short years ago. He took a seat on the porch to watch.

  The lesson continued for another ten minutes with abrupt stops and an occasional curse word from Burt. Cecil gazed up at the sky and took in the lazy motion of the clouds and silent rustling of the breeze. The sky’s unusual reddish tint with orange clouds was a stark contrast to the lavender and yellow to which they were accustomed. He never thought about it before, but it struck him as a color contrast between Hell and Heaven. They were certainly in Hell now; in spite of the peaceful and serene setting. The macabre whispers from the woods left no doubt.

  Charlotte brought Cecil a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and fried Spam. He picked at it for a while; he was not hungry at all. He wished they had a dog, and then he could at least take care of the fried meat. He downed his coffee in a single gulp. He was thinking about how nice it would be to have a ‘Take me to your liter’ sized soft drink from Martian Burgers when Burt called out to him.

  “Well, what do you think of Stan the Man’s driving here?” he called out the open window of the SUV. Musial didn’t understand the reference to the St. Louis Cardinal’s great, Stan Musial.

  Cecil held out his hand, palm facing down, and then twisted it back and forth to indicate Musial was a ‘so-so’ driver.

  “He should be all right,” Cecil said. “Considering there shouldn’t be a whole lot of other people on the roads.”

  Most people were ‘voluntarily’ evacuated to military bases, but none of them were sure just how voluntary it was. Of course, if they didn’t go they were dead without a generator and fuel.

  “True,” Burt said. “We shouldn’t have to worry about him hitting anyone … unless they are an idiot.”

  “No, all we have to worry about is whether or not he’ll come back,” Cecil thought.

  “I want to show him one more thing,” Burt said and held up a finger to say give me a minute.

  Cecil could hear Derrick and Burt having a heated argument. A few moments later, the back door swung open and Derrick rolled out, a deep scowl on his face. He walked around to the front of the vehicle. He didn’t point his pistol at Musial, but kept it at a forty-five degree angle in front of him so he could bring it up and fire at a moment’s notice. Burt leaned out the window.

  “I haven’t showed him about backing yet. Once he masters it, he should be good to go,” he called.

  Burt turned and gave instructions to Musial. He pointed at different areas on the dashboard and the rearview mirrors. He then acted as if he were adjusting an invisible gear shift. Derrick turned and shrugged at Cecil.

  It was obvious he did not trust Musial and he trusted him even less now that he wasn’t able to guard him up close. No one trusted Musial, but Burt needed Derrick out of the back seat. He couldn’t teach Musial about the fine art of backing with Derrick’s head in the way.

  After he finished coaching, Musial shifted the SUV into reverse and it lurched backwards. What happened next was unclear. It brought Cecil out of his seat and Derrick’s gun to bear on the vehicle as it sped away in reverse.

  Burt screamed and tried to grab the wheel, but it was no use as they careened down the slope next to the driveway. They were heading toward the darkest spot in the woods.

  “I told him this was a bad idea!” Derrick screamed as he ran after the vehicle. “I told him!”

  Cecil was in pursuit on Derrick’s heels, without a clue to what they intended to do. It wasn’t as
if they possessed super powers and could grab the bumper and stop the SUV’s wild jaunt. Running after it was all they could do until it stopped.

  “Burt … jump!” Cecil shouted as the vehicle approached the woods.

  Derrick kept trying to aim a shot, but the way the vehicle jostled from side to side, he stood a good chance of hitting Burt. They heard the screams of Sally and Charlotte behind them. Their focus was on getting Burt out of there somehow, some way. When it became obvious there was no way the vehicle was going to stop before hitting the woods, Cecil did a dangerous and foolish thing. He tackled a man with a loaded gun and an itchy trigger finger.

  “What in the crap are you doing?” Derrick spat as they tumbled and slid together on the wet grass.

  “We can’t do Burt any good if we go charging into the dark after him … that’ll just leave the women with Musial! Do you want that?”

  The logic had a hard time penetrating his adrenaline charged head. Before it began to sink in, Burt began to scream. Not a pain filled or terrified scream, it was an anguished scream, eerily similar to what they heard from Dr. Winder. They saw the SUV had come to rest against a large pine tree, in the center of the dark spot in the woods. The tires continued to spin in reverse as the tree refused to give an inch.

  “Burt!” they called in unison, mixed with the mingled screams of the women who were approaching from behind.

  Cecil had to jump to his feet and tackle Sally or else she would have traipsed right in after her husband.

  “Let me go you, bastard,” she screamed. “He is going to die!”