March Into Hell

by M. P. McDonald

  “Lily?” His voice was less hoarse than yesterday, but she thought it still sounded painful.

  “Hey, Mark.” She stood, giving the chair a dirty look when it screeched again. Not that it mattered anymore. His hand rested on the sheet, and she reached for it, mindful of the bandages and I.V. “How are you feeling?” His skin was warm, almost hot. He pulled out of her grasp, but only to raise the head of the bed.

  “I’m okay. Still sore, but better than I was.” Although he said the right things, his demeanor said something else. He looked exhausted. Dark circles stood out on his pale skin. There was something else in his tone too. It hadn’t been there yesterday. Then he’d still been groggy and his throat had been so sore that he’d said very little in the brief periods of time that he’d been awake.

  She smoothed a hand against his cheek.“You feel a little warm.”

  Mark turned his head away from her hand.

  “How’s your shoulder? Are you due for some pain meds?” She tried to take his hand again, but he pulled it away.

  He sighed. “It’s okay, Lily. I’m fine.”

  She could sense him closing down.

  “Talk to me, Mark.” She rested her hand on the bed-rail.“I know you’re hurting."

  He shifted in the bed, wincing, and tugged the sheet up higher on his lap. Their dry rustle sounded loud in the room.

  He looked down and mumbled, “I…I…should have fought harder, Lily.”

  “Fought harder? Mark, you’re covered in bruises from head to toe and the police tested some blood they found in your loft and it wasn’t yours. I’d say you fought pretty damn hard.” She wondered if she should be less stern, but she knew Mark and his tendency to blame himself for everything.

  “I bit someone.” He gave a short laugh.

  “What?”

  “They were all around me and someone got too close to my mouth and I bit down as hard as I could. That must be what the blood was from."

  “See? What else could you have done? The police also found almost a dozen different footprints in the alley outside your building. There’s no way you could have fought your way past all of them.”

  “So, that means they haven’t actually caught anybody yet?” His eyes were flat and his voice guarded. She knew he was trying not to let any fear leak through. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back as she shook her head. “Not yet, but they have a lot of leads. They think that the girl, Judy Medea, might have had something to do with it. They found the missing keys in a pile of snow behind the studio and she was the last person besides you or me to be in the office that day.”

  “Oh, she was there all right. I know exactly who's behind it all.” His voice was hard. Angry. “Kern and about a dozen other people.” He went silent then and Lily didn’t push for more details. She rubbed his arm and he didn’t pull away, accepting that small comfort.

  Lily pulled a chair right up beside the bed as close as she could and continued the gentle stroking. She finally saw him relax and his breathing settled into a soft rhythm as he fell asleep. The tears she’d fought to hold back trickled out and she swiped at them with her free hand. She didn’t believe in vengeance, but right at that moment, if Kern had been standing before her, she didn’t think she’d have any qualms about hurting him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Adrian supervised the unloading of the small truck by his followers. Most of the furniture from the Oak Park house had been abandoned, but it couldn't be helped. His desk and leather chair were the exception. He scowled at the necessity of moving and glanced at the rundown apartment building that was to be their temporary home. How it hadn't yet been condemned by the city was anyones guess, but a few phone calls and the exchange of cash had made it available. He surveyed the neighborhood, batting away a tattered newspaper that blew towards his face. The area looked like a war zone. Half the windows were missing from the buildings and grass was a luxury the street couldn't afford. Front stoops crumbled onto muddy patches of bare ground littered with broken bottles, pop cans, and paper. The few trees and bushes were decorated with twisted plastic shopping bags that snapped in the stiff wind.

  At least it was only temporary. His followers had balked, but at least they wouldn't have to worry about nosy neighbors. In this area, nobody paid any attention to what happened to others. It was just what Adrian needed right now.

  How the police had found them at the warehouse so quickly still mystified him. The most dangerous part, the actual abduction, had gone without a hitch. Once at the warehouse, they should have had all the night to complete the ceremony. Taylor shouldn't have been reported missing until morning, but when the police scanner started buzzing with activity at Taylor's loft, Adrian had set lookouts with instructions to report back any suspicious vehicles. It was the only thing that saved them.

  Taylor had been in bad shape when they'd left, and Adrian had held out hope he would die from his wounds, but it wasn't to be. He shrugged it off, it wasn't worth second guessing his restraint when he'd stabbed the man. At the time, it had added necessary drama. He hadn't missed the morbid fascination of many in the guild, and had overheard several talking about that moment.

  Besides, he could never let his doubts show in front of his followers. Instead, he took credit for the media frenzy. He had put the Guild of the Rose on the radar. Every news outlet in the country had run a story on them. Adrian chuckled, loving the comparisons to Jim Baker's cult. What he wouldn't give to have the number of followers Baker had, but as usual, the press had stretched and exaggerated the truth. While the attention increased the risk, it also catapulted Kern to the front pages of the news and he basked in the notoriety.

  As the last of the boxes were carted into the building, Adrian followed his members inside. He strode into the lobby of the apartment complex. He'd instructed everything to be unloaded there first so that it could later be distributed among the four apartments in the building.

  "Everyone, please find a place to sit."

  Some of the women glanced at the floor with their noses wrinkled and remarked about sitting on mouse droppings and cockroaches. Adrian narrowed his eyes. "Sit!"

  Startled, all of the members sat without another word of protest. He pinned each one with a look until they squirmed and glanced away. "I will not hear another word about the condition of this building. Even as you all are bitching about bugs and rodents, I am making plans. Plans like you have never imagined. The Guild of the Rose will become known throughout the world."

  He surveyed them, relishing how their shock turned to curiosity as he allowed the tension to build.

  "We did not fail with Mark Taylor. Instead, he is even more famous than he was before, and that was our doing. We have that kind of power. When we bring him down for the final time, our power will be immeasurable. People will flock to our guild hoping to become members." He pointed at them. "As senior members, you will all be bishops when that happens. My inner circle. Think of the power you will have."

  He swept an arm out, and said, "All of this is but a minor inconvenience, a small price to pay. Soon, we will have a complex to rival any on earth. It will have fountains and statues. There will be private apartments for all of you, and all of your needs will be taken care of. You will want for nothing."

  Their eyes lit up and he let it sink in for a few moments. "These things take time. For now, we sit tight while I lay some groundwork. I'll have to leave the country for a short time to make some arrangements. In the meantime, Judy Medea will be in charge. She's proven herself worthy. You will obey her as you would me."

  Judy's head came up in surprise as she gave a tentative smile. He still wasn't sure of her loyalty, but he was positive of her fear. She would do whatever he told her to do.

  * * *

  Mark awoke and his eyes went to the chair beside the bed. It was empty and he felt a pang of disappointment. He hadn’t been very pleasant to Lily and it was no wonder she had left. He looked at the big clock on the wall, surprised to see that it
was late afternoon.

  Brenda entered carrying a dinner tray. “How about some real food? Feel up to it?” She set the tray on his table and removed the lid from the plate. “You were sleeping so I ordered for you. I figured a hamburger would be a safe bet. Is that okay?”

  Mark nodded. “Sure. That looks good.”

  A nurse appeared at the door and spoke to Brenda about a patient in another room. “Okay, Mark. I have to go, but if you need anything, put on your light.”

  “Thanks. I should be fine.” Mark sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled the table closer, scanning the tray for ketchup packets. He spotted several next to the ever-present green Jell-O and reached for one. Realizing he couldn’t open it with his hands, he put the edge between his teeth and pulled. The packet ripped open but flew out of his hand and slid across the floor towards the door. “Dammit!”

  “Lose something, Mark?”

  He looked up from the smear of red on the floor to see Jessie step into the room and bend to pick up the errant packet.

  “Whoa!” Jim sidestepped to avoid running into her backside. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that, Jessica.” A wide grin split his face.

  Jessie straightened and raised an eyebrow at Jim. Mark almost felt sorry for the other man being on the receiving end of the look. Jim's grin dissolved. Jessie tossed the packet in the garbage can then approached the bed, her expression softening.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Mark put the lid back on his dinner. “Okay.” He looked between the two. Was this a social call or did they have news for him? What little appetite he’d had dwindled to nothing.

  “You’re looking a lot better than you did the last time we saw you.” Jim leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets as he appraised Mark.

  Mark couldn’t remember them visiting, but maybe he’d been out of it when they had come by. “I was probably pretty sedated then. I don’t remember much about the first few days I was here.” He reached for his juice. His appetite was gone but his mouth was dry as a sandbox.

  Jessie looked confused and glanced at Jim then back to Mark. "I think Jim meant at the warehouse.”

  Jim nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah, Taylor, that was pretty…bizarre.”

  The bottom dropped out of Mark’s belly and his ears began to buzz. In some part of his mind, he was aware that someone had rescued him but he hadn’t thought that part through yet. They had been there? Jim and Jessie had seen him like that? He couldn’t look at them as he imagined how he must have appeared to them. He swallowed bile. He’d been hanging there in the warehouse like a side of beef.

  For the second time that day, he felt like vomiting. It was bad enough knowing that others knew of his humiliation, but to have someone he knew witness it firsthand was like a kick to the gut. Mark closed his eyes and leaned his head on his hand, his elbow propped on the table. He wished Kern would have just finished him off. It would have been a lot more merciful than letting him die of humiliation.

  “Damn, Taylor! What’s wrong?” Jim was beside him, his hand on Mark’s right shoulder. “You just looked like someone drained what little color you had right out of you.”

  Jim moved the table out of the way and tried to urge Mark back in the bed. “Lie down before you pass out.”

  Jessie pushed the nurse call light and when it was answered, barked out, “We need some help in here!”

  Mark, cradled his head in his hand, his eyes shut, while he mustered the last shred of dignity he had left. “Get out. Just leave me alone.”

  * * *

  Mark's body shuddered as he hunched over and after a few seconds, he brought his feet up and lay curled on his side. Jessica leaned over him, pulling the covers up, but Mark ignored her presence, his mouth clamped into a tight line and his eyes still closed.

  Jim stepped away from the bed and reached out, grasping Jessica’s elbow and giving a little tug. When she looked at him with an eyebrow raised in question, he angled his head towards the door. He wasn’t sure what had set Taylor off, but it was obvious that the man was barely keeping it together.

  “But--” Jessica tried to shake off Jim's hand, shooting a worried glance at Mark.

  “Let’s go.” Without waiting, Jim turned and headed towards the hall and after a moment, he heard the tap of Jessica's boots on the tile behind him.

  He strode down the hall until he found a little sitting area and she followed him.

  “Jim! He needs some help in there. We should get the nurse.”

  “What he needs is a little time to get himself together.” Jim crossed his arms and leaned one hip against a window ledge, half-sitting. “Couldn’t you tell that Mark was about to lose it in there?”

  She wore a puzzled expression and tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced back down the hallway towards Mark’s door. “I thought he was in pain…”

  Jim gazed down at his foot resting on the floor, tapping it against the tiles as he tried to think of a way to explain his theory to Jessica without causing further embarrassment to Taylor. At first, Jim had been as mystified as Jessica at Mark’s sudden change in demeanor, but he thought back over the conversation and realized what had hit Mark so hard.

  Jim had done enough interrogations and had seen subjects display similar reactions, especially if the interrogator threatened to show videos of the questioning to the subject's family. They were often terrified of loved ones seeing them like that. The feeling of helplessness and of being a victim was almost as hard for some to handle as the actual attack. It didn't matter that Taylor wasn't new to...interrogations, this was different. Jim refused to think of his own past questioning of Taylor as torture, it wasn't even close to what these animals had done. Taylor had been the victim of a brutal beating, torture and attempted murder, that went beyond anything the government had done to him.

  “Jessica, you’ve worked as a cop long enough to recognize that Mark is acting like most other victims. He doesn’t want people he cares about to see him as vulnerable or helpless.”

  At first she looked confused, but then her face colored as she understood Jim’s implication. "He doesn't want me to see him like this, but, I'm investigating the case. How am I going to find out anything if he won't speak to me?”

  “Dan is investigating the case --you’re off it, from what I understand.”

  “Well, technically, sure, I know that.” She shrugged one shoulder and crossed her arms, turning away. “I wanted to see how he was doing and I thought he would welcome a friendly face asking him the questions instead of--”

  “My mean ugly mug?” Jim teased gently and stepped around Jessie, making her face him. He looked her in the eye. “I’m going to go back and talk to him, if he’ll let me. As crazy as it sounds, he's familiar with me seeing him like this. I might not be as threatening. Why don’t you wait here for now?”

  “Yeah, I guess, “ she said and sank down onto one of the easy chairs.

  * * *

  “Taylor? Can I come in for a minute?”

  Mark thought about ignoring the request, but he already felt like a fool for the way he had behaved. He cracked his eyes and saw it was only Jim and he wondered where Jessie was and if she was out in the hall.

  Jim must have seen the question in Mark’s eyes and shook his head. “It’s just me.”

  Still not quite able to meet Jim’s eyes, Mark nodded and said, “Yeah, come on in.” He raised the head of the bed and straightened the covers. “Sorry about tossing you out…I…I just--”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Jim said, cutting Mark’s apology short. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.” He ambled into the room, stopped and crossed his arms.

  Mark took a sip of water, not quite sure what Jim was getting at. He set the cup down and flexed his right hand several times. It was still painful, but he was beginning to have more strength in it. Fidgeting, he adjusted the strap on his sling.

  “I had hoped to get some information from you, but I can see this probably
isn’t a good time. That’s okay though. One more day isn’t going to make a whole lot of difference.” Jim pulled up a chair and sat down with a sigh.

  Mark looked out the window. It was almost dark and the orange sunset slashed across the horizon. Neither man spoke, and the silence hung in the air like a thick heavy fog. Mark felt Jim’s gaze boring into him. Unable to resist any longer, he turned to look at him. What he saw in the other man’s eyes surprised him. He expected to see pity but what he saw instead was anger.

  Jim leaned forward, his arms resting across his knees. “Mark, you know that what happened to you wasn’t your fault, don’t you?”

  Mark looked away, his eyes on the wall beyond the foot of the bed, but his focus was inward. It was his choice to respond to the first assault on Judy Medea. Then, he had invited her to the studio for an interview. He was sure she had taken the keys then. How could he have been so gullible? Why hadn’t he checked his loft for the keys after Lily had reported them missing? Stupid! His biggest regret was in not getting away. Lily had a point about how many people had been there, but still, he should have thought of a way of getting free.

  “It doesn’t really matter what I think, does it, Jim? The fact is, I let them do that to me. Things I did or…or…didn’t do, contributed to what happened.” Mark clenched his fist, ignoring the pain. Narrowing his eyes, he turned to Jim. “I could have made them end it sooner.” His voice was low and harsh as he continued, “I begged him to shoot me, but I should have forced him to do it.” Mark’s breathing became ragged as he thought back and tried to think of ways he could have prevented the crucifixion.

  “Maybe he didn’t have a gun…but he had a knife. I should have attacked Kern. Either I would have succeeded in getting away, or I'd have died trying.” He almost forgot Jim sitting beside him as he imagined different plans of action. “Anything would have been better than what happened.”