The Eye of Madness

  Carmella rested in a conference room of the administration building. An ace bandage covered her forehead where she made contact with the sidewalk. A heating pad warmed her lower back where she made contact with the concrete planter. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Not only because of Steff, but also because of the information just passed on to her by a member of the clerical staff.

  President Garrison and Avery were not going to North Carolina tonight in the limo. They would go in the morning. He sent Sebastian and Joan ahead of them. The only good news Carmella could determine from the situation was that the two Secret Service agents had been put out at the gate. What good would they have been to the travelling ambassadors after dark anyway? One of them was in the infirmary nursing a bullet wound to the shoulder. Joan decided to take pot shots at them as they drove away.

  Everybody was sympathetic to her treatment at the hands of the president’s lone female henchman. None of them liked Garrison’s cronies. Even fewer liked the president himself. Carmella could sense it, but she also knew they were guarding their feelings. She was one of the White House secretaries. No one knew how warm or cold her relationship was with the president and his administration.

  For the time being, all she could do is wait. She knew there would be repercussions when the bomb went off and it wouldn’t take Garrison long to determine who brought the car. When that happened, she would be joining Steff. She wasn’t afraid of death. Her faith refused her the notion of fearing death. Almost as important as her faith, she had taken a peek behind the curtain, so to speak, and knew the promise of eternity was real. The Impals proved it. The one thing keeping her from squashing her fears was the wildcard of the eye of the storm. Did it change the nature and disposition of the soul? This uncertainty vexed her. Even as David brought her a cup of coffee and took a seat across the room, she could not manage a smile.

  While she appreciated David’s efforts, she wasn’t in the mood for company. All Carmella wanted was to be alone and to contemplate her life in the short time she knew she had left. She was about to get up and seek solitude when something made her freeze in her tracks. Her tears shut off as if someone turned a faucet. She propped herself against the arm of the sofa as the room began to vibrate. A glowing white light began to drive away the approaching dusk outside. It was like the most brilliant sunrise ever, projecting radiant daylight in a surreal dream. She gasped in amazement, then fell back on the sofa, shielding her eyes from the brilliance.

  Cecil’s eyes had just become accustomed to the light when they were plunged back into darkness. He was no longer aware of his father, the platform or the Tesla Gate. He was ten years old again, in a canoe filled with vile snakes doing their best to torment him into taking his own life.

  Cecil was aware of the sensation of falling, yet in his tortured mind, it was only the canoe sinking deeper in the water. As he cried out and tried to claw his way out of the canoe, he heard a wild shriek. It was around him and inside of him at the same time. The malignant sound chilled him as much as the snakes. However, now the snakes were gone, replaced by a warm and bright light covering him as a warm blanket, driving away the chill. He felt safe and secure. As the screaming faded, Cecil opened his eyes. What he saw convinced him the dark souls did their job. There was no other explanation.

  He was still hanging from the rope by his arms and twisting with his feet a yard or so off the ground. The fact he was still hanging from a rope was what confused him. He felt a cold touch on his arms, but it was not disquieting like the serpents. It was pleasing, especially after he started to feel the unusual sensation of hot and cold. Standing beside him with bright smiles were Abbs and Steff. Cecil was overcome by joy, but he was also tempered with confusion. He expected to see Abbs again when he died or if the storm happened to bring the Impals back. Why was Steff glowing with silvery luminescence?

  “Steff … what, what … happened?” he stammered.

  Before she could answer, his reunion was interrupted by the booming voice of a man insane with rage.

  “Demonic filth!” President Garrison screamed. “How dare you impersonate my granddaughters!!”

  In a flash, Garrison jumped off of the platform and grabbed a nearby iron chain which had been used to herd Impals. In one quick motion, he swung the chain and struck Steff in the head. She went sprawling across the floor and came to rest less than a foot from the Tesla Gate. The backlash knocked Abbs into the platform and struck Cecil across the arm. Garrison jerked the chain back and took aim at Steff. This time determined to finish the job and knock her into the Gate. Then he would turn his attention back to the demon posing as Abbs and give it the same treatment.

  Garrison was so focused on the abominations, he didn’t notice the light flooding the hangar. It was due to much more than two rogue Impals. As he reared back to swing again, he cried out with surprise. The chain dropped to the floor with a clatter, echoing through the hangar. Cecil twisted so he could swing sideways and see in President Garrison’s direction. He was both relieved and horrified.

  Garrison resembled an enraged angel as he hung above the ground. He was bathed in the shimmering light of the half dozen Impals who seized him and lifted him in the air.

  “Get thee behind me, Satan!” he screamed as he kicked and writhed. His efforts were futile. They carried him forward and held him a few feet from Cecil and his daughters.

  Another Impal walked up behind Cecil. He turned and stood between him and his father. Cecil blinked in surprise because he recognized this Impal and knew him well.

  “How are you?” Cecil croaked, his mouth agape. Part of him felt as if he was in a dream. This was too real to be a dream and the rope too painful for him to be dead.

  The man stepped forward and smiled as he placed his hand on Cecil’s lower arm.

  “I’m fine, major,” Thomas Pendleton said softly. He then turned and beckoned to a group of Impals out of Cecil’s line of sight. “Please, let’s get this man down,” he said.

  Cecil felt the warm-cold touches of Impals as he was lifted in the air and the rope pulled loose from his torso. A moment later, he was set back on the ground. Cecil massaged his sore ribs for a few moments before his father began to shout again.

  “You are all under arrest … you are all traitors … how dare you defy my authority and the will of the Lord!”

  Cecil stepped forward and gazed up into the face of the raving lunatic he once called father. Garrison spat in his son’s eyes before muttering, “You disgrace, you should have been aborted. The world would have been a better place.”

  The words hurt, yet Cecil ignored him. He stepped back and put his arms around his daughters. He tried to address his father with some affection, but it took every ounce of resolve to utter the first word.

  “Dad … these are my daughters, your granddaughters. They are not demons.”

  “I know for a fact Steff is alive and well at the White House, the most secure location in the world. This can’t be her! The deceivers will go to any means to test our faith!”

  Cecil felt the odd warm and cold sensation like tiny shooting stars moving through his shoulder. Steff’s tears rolled off her cheeks in shiny drops as she placed her forehead on her father’s shoulder.

  “It is me, grandpa,” she said. “I tried to climb out a window and fell. I followed Carmella out here when they brought your car.”

  “Lies,” he hissed. “Go back to Hell, demon!”

  The full meaning of Steff’s presence sunk in with Cecil and he began to cry.

  “My poor girl,” he said stroking her cold head. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you … for both of you,” he said, pulling Abbs into their embrace.

  “I’m sorry I let you down, Dad. It’s all my fault,” Steff said as silvery tears continued to sheet down her cheeks.

  “No sweetheart, it’s mine,” he whispered.

  Cecil wanted the moment with his daughters to last forever, but his father had other plans.

  “Please let me down,”
President Garrison asked. He sounded quite lucid and calm. A far contrast from the hate filled zealot from moments earlier.

  Cecil paused. He never heard this voice from his father, not even when he was younger.

  “I don’t think so,” said one of the Impal men holding him up.

  “Please,” said President Garrison, pleaded. “I only want a moment with my granddaughters, God bless them.”

  “You just thumped them with an iron chain,” the large Impal of an 18th century black man growled. He then helped hoist Garrison even higher as if making a demonstration of their resolve.

  Cecil was so dumbstruck with the Impals return, coherent thought was an impossible notion for him at the moment. He was intoxicated with joy to see his daughters again. As a result of all these competing feelings, his inner sense of goodwill took over his common sense. His affection and trust for his father had disappeared a long time ago. Yet, a small flame still burned inside him like a dying match. The unconditional love of a child for their parent is a flame that’s difficult to completely extinguish. Cecil’s tiny flame still kindled a small hope for reconciliation. He hoped this more for his daughters than himself.

  “Let him down,” Cecil said.

  The Impals detaining his father, a group of a half dozen men or so, all turned to him. Their clothing was a stark contrast. Each man was from a different period in history ranging from colonial to the 1940s.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Thomas said, stepping closer to Cecil. “You remember what he did to me and Seth?”

  Cecil did remember. It had haunted him every day since his failed attempt to rescue the father and son. Thomas earned his respect and admiration for the sacrifice he made for his son.

  “Where is Seth?” Cecil asked, becoming aware that there were more Impals in the hangar. There were hundreds of them. The lights were still off and their bright luminescent glow lit up the whole of the structure. The soldier who manned the controls and the one who wheeled Barbara in fled. Barbara still rested on a gurney a few yards from the Tesla Gate.

  “Seth is back there,” Thomas said, pointing towards the far wall of the hangar. Dozens of Impals covered the distance. “He is with a friend. I didn’t want him to see up here.”

  “Please let me down,” Garrison pleaded again, this time he sounded as if he were on the verge of tears. “Please, I just want to see my granddaughters … to tell them I am sorry.”

  Thomas shook his head at Cecil, but his common sense still had not returned. The small flame was still bright enough to blind him for an instant.

  “Let him down,” Cecil requested again. “But make sure he doesn’t have any weapons or iron on him.”

  Perhaps it was Cecil’s prudent suggestion that led the Impals to relent and lower Garrison to the ground. After several long moments of debate, they dumped him on the hard concrete floor.

  Garrison got up and regarded Cecil and the girls with a wide sheepish smile. He began to walk towards them, his arms opened with his palms turned up in supplication.

  “I’m sorry girls, please forgive me,” he said and opened his arms wider.

  Thomas moved to intervene, but Cecil urged him to step aside. Garrison moved closer and when he was a few feet from the frightened girls, his smile faded into a scowl of hatred. He charged them.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do this earlier!” he screamed.

  Impals are capable of passing through most solid objects except for iron, but they have to concentrate. It takes focus and determination. Abbs and Steff had no time to prepare. He caught each of them under their arms and began to drive then towards the crackling mouth of the Tesla Gate.

  Cecil and Thomas tried to grab Garrison, but he was too quick. Two flashes shot from the far corner of the platform and raced towards Garrison. He was less than ten feet away from the Gate when the flashes intercepted him. He was jerked backwards and the girls dropped to the ground. They began to crawl towards Cecil as he and Thomas ran towards them. Each reached a girl and pulled her to safety. A moment later, President Garrison was hurtling towards the Tesla Gate. Cecil turned his head as the disgusting crackle of a body hitting the current resonated through the building. The stench of burning flesh flooded Cecil’s nose, making him want to wretch.

  His father had become the latest victim of the Shredder. Even though this would have been celebration for most, he could not bring himself to celebrate. The small, weak flame burning inside managed to produce a few tears which rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away as he covered his nose to suppress the smell.

  He turned to look, it was unavoidable. His father’s body lay smoldering on the floor. Standing on either side of him were two Impal men, one of which he recognized immediately, the other not until he spoke.

  CHAPTER 42

  THE STORM ROLLS ON

  “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

  ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

  “I’m sorry, Cecil,” Sam Andrews said.

  “I am too, major. Quite regrettable,” the other Impal said. He wore a nineteenth century, three-piece suit. It consisted of a sack coat with matching vest and trousers. He didn’t resemble the stereotypical magician with top hat and cape. Even so, he definitely fit the appearance of a showman.

  “Musial?” Cecil asked. “You’re an Impal now?”

  “Yes,” said Musial trying to keep up his cool and sarcastic persona. He was so elated, he could not conceal it. Tears of joy rolled down his cheeks like silvery shooting stars, disappearing into the gray concrete floor.

  “I’m sorry, major,” Musial said, then turned away. He walked behind the platform for privacy.

  Musial was right. It was possible to redeem yourself, no matter how dark one’s transgressions may have been. Did he make himself right with God? Cecil could not say, although he did have his own beliefs on the matter. The only thing he knew for certain was that overcoming ignorance and arrogance seemed to free the soul in more ways than one.

  “Sam, are you okay?” Cecil asked.

  Sam grinned and put his hands on his hips. Cecil noticed he was wearing the same clothing his body was clothed in. It was curious to see the vast garment variations among the Impals. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to their attire. Perhaps it was a favorite garment in life and they incorporated it into their eternal wardrobe.

  “I’ve never been better, Cecil. I haven’t felt this good in years.” He paused for a moment and stroked his chin, smirking with satisfaction. “You know, I don’t have any desire for a drink, not one little bit.”

  Something changed about the Impals since they walked the planet before. Cecil couldn’t quite put his finger on it. They still had the same tinny sounding voice and a glowing silvery ethereal quality, but there was more. They seemed much brighter than before. Perhaps it was the close proximity of so many of them together that gave this illusion.

  When Cecil noticed the girls standing beside their mother’s gurney, his heart sank. He knew they walked close to their grandfather to get there. Their attention was too focused on their mother to notice his macabre presence. A large American flag hung from a nearby pole so Cecil walked over and took it down. He carried it to his father and covered the corpse. It seemed both reverent and disrespectful at the same time. He covered his father with a flag, but Cecil didn’t believe his father deserved that privilege. A part of him, a rather large part of him, thought it disrespected the flag more than anything. The important thing was, his body was now covered from view of his daughters. As Cecil was about to turn away and join his girls, something dawned on him. His father’s Impal was not here.

  Cecil whirled about as if a wild animal might be stalking him when he heard a voice a few feet away. Musial said, “I told you major … he is not here. He is with the dark”

  “Where?” Cecil asked.

  Musial gazed up at the ceiling distantly, as if he were pondering the size of a planet in the nig
ht sky. He then frowned and glanced about the hangar.

  “The dark souls are gone,” Musial said. “The eye has passed.”

  Musial didn’t have to say any more. The former general, former president, and former father, had joined his kindred spirits. Cecil couldn’t help feeling a little sick thinking of his father confined to the dark void. He also felt safe. He pushed the thought aside, took a deep breath, and joined Steff and Abbs with their mother.

  Barbara’s condition broke his heart ever since the day she was ravaged by the dark. Now to see his daughters, his two deceased daughters, regard her with forlorn sadness. It shattered his heart into a million pieces.

  “Mom,” Abbs said, reaching out and taking Barbara’s hand.

  Steff didn’t say anything as she took her other hand. Both girls wept.

  Cecil stood there for many moments watching his daughters. Salty, mortal, tears dripped from his face and formed a wet spot at the foot of the gurney. He was vaguely aware of the crowd of hundreds watching them. Right now, he did not care. His life would soon be an empty and lonely one. He had not thought of Barbara’s condition as serious until now. With every passing day, and every passing moment, his hope of getting his wife back grew weaker.

  Cecil was startled when there was a loud crackle and pop as the hangar grew darker. One of the Impals figured out the controls and managed to shut down the infernal Gate. He turned and looked at the empty archway, still emitting a low hum as it powered down. He jumped again when he felt cold hands on each shoulder. He turned to see Thomas and Sam standing there.

  He suddenly remembered hearing the disturbing tale one night from an inebriated Sam Andrews’s. The story of how his parents were murdered in a home invasion when he was only eight years old. He had witnessed it all.

  “Being drunk is the only way I can talk about it,” Andrews had told him with slurred speech.