I took a breath, hoping to channel some of Sully’s cool composure.
Off to my left, the bright lights and countless tall buildings of Manhattan were almost mind-numbing. I’d been to New York City only once, back when I was in law school at Georgetown and came up this way with some friends. I had been a bit enamored back then. Now, the labyrinth of streets and alleys and tall buildings just made it seem like Mackenzie was the needle in the city haystack.
I finally turned east on West 14th. Throughout the entire trip, I’d tried not to obsess over the reasoning behind sending me to this House of Death. My palms started to sweat. Now, all sorts of crazy ideas bounced around my mind, some even involving ghosts. The combination of no sleep and the repeated surges of adrenaline had left me weary. The kind where you feel it in your bones.
After I turned south on 7th Avenue, I picked up the phone I’d taken off Mickey and wondered if it might ring. Of course, it didn’t, so I put it back on the seat. I was about a mile away from the destination. Was this House of Death their actual headquarters? Their way of hiding in plain sight?
I came onto West 10th, slowed down, took in everything around me. Outside of a mattress store and a couple other businesses, it was all row homes made of red brick, with most of the front doors a few steps below street level. Trees dotted the sidewalks, apparently an attempt to break up the mass of concrete.
This was no Austin.
Ten minutes prior to my deadline, I pulled to a stop in front of 14 West 10th. Ivy was draped over a second-floor plant box. All the windows were covered. There was an awning over the entrance, and a single light was on next to the front door. I glanced around. No pedestrians in the immediate vicinity.
This had to be a trap, right? I mean, up until now, this group had been playing to my worst fears, using both the carrot and the stick to prod me into taking that next step.
Mickey’s phone rang, and I jumped in my seat. So much for the act of channeling Sully.
“Hello,” I said.
“I’m glad you made it. I can’t tell you how relieved we are.”
The same woman again. She sounded like a relative, maybe an aunt, sharing her happiness that I’d safely arrived. But I wasn’t stupid. There was more to my arrival than picking up Mackenzie and just driving off. Part of me wished Alex and Nick were a block away, waiting to raid this place and finally end this nightmare. We’d save Mackenzie, and the two of us would begin our lives together.
Had I fucked this up?
“Okay. Where is Mackenzie?”
“We left a light on for you. As I noted, you must follow the path. I’m only calling because I know the house can appear to be a bit…morbid.”
I wouldn’t have used that term. But she had. So, either something had gone down at this home or their interior decorator was from another world.
With the phone still at my ear, I slipped out of the Buick, walked onto the sidewalk, and looked around. The street was empty. All clear. I wasn’t sure if that was good news.
“Are you still there, Ozzie?”
Her voice sounded like she was the receptionist at a spa. Too serene for this situation.
“Yes.” I stared at the front door.
“Come on in. You’ll be warmly received.”
“Bring Mackenzie outside.”
A pause. “You know we can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“We know that you have never met your daughter. I’m sure it will be an emotional experience for both of you. Plus, given our situation, we’d rather handle the hand-over in a quieter setting. I’m sure you understand.”
“I don’t understand shit.” I anchored my feet to the concrete. Defiant.
The woman sighed into the phone. “I hate to remind you, but technically you have not arrived at the destination. You have two minutes until time runs out.”
A burst of emotion sent tears into my eyes. The emotion was partly seething anger, partly fright for losing Mackenzie.
“Okay, okay,” I said, gritting my teeth.
I went down the steps, put my hand on the doorknob, and turned it. Not surprisingly, it was unlocked. I walked into a small foyer. There was a nightlight glowing under a table against the wall. I walked over and picked up one of those things girls used to pull their hair back. This one was rainbow-colored.
“Where is—”
A stabbing jolt in my side before I could finish my question. My whole body buzzed like I’d touched a live electric wire, and I dropped to the floor. No control of my muscles. Nothing. Shoes shuffled around me. A rag was jammed into my mouth. It smelled sweet, like honey, but I knew it had to be chloroform. I clenched my muscles, trying with everything in my power to fight back. It was as if the signal had been cut from my brain. Two short breaths, and my eyes shut.
My last coherent thought was wondering if the rainbow-colored hair tie belonged to Mackenzie.
41
A shove, maybe two, and then yanking at my wrists and ankles. Seconds passed, maybe a minute. I could have fallen back asleep. Eventually, I peeled my eyes open and took in a faint breath. My vision, all of my senses, were off. Well, I knew my hearing was off, but nothing else seemed normal, either.
I was alone in the darkness. A chill coursed through my body. My muscles responded but only slightly. I had no real strength.
“Mackenzie,” I said, barely able to push out a sound.
No response. No movement.
I tried clearing my throat, but it was like moving a mountain. It wasn’t going to happen. Lifting my head, my mind gained just a tad more clarity. My ankles and wrists were tied to something. I was on my butt, and my back was pressed against a metal wall, which was not smooth.
I blinked, and a door swung open, breaking the darkness. Ah, so, I’m in a van. Two men got in, speaking so fast I couldn’t understand them. One of them laughed. I looked down. I had no clothes on. Still, laughter or not, embarrassment wasn’t a concern for me.
“Where’s Mackenzie?” I said as my head rocked left and right, with no real control.
One of them grunted, moved in closer. He had a lot of missing teeth. One-liners started shooting into my mind, but I was in a fight for my life. For Mackenzie’s life. At least I hoped I was.
A cold object against my side.
“Don’t. Don’t, please.”
They didn’t care. Mr. Jack-o-lantern zapped me with the taser, and my entire body locked up. It was as if I’d been turned into stone. They weren’t done. A wet rag was stuffed into my mouth. I last recalled seeing the door shut and then feeling the sudden thrust of the van taking off.
Once again, my eyes shut, and darkness prevailed.
42
“Wake up. Wake up, Ozzie.”
A voice from another world.
Hands were on me, grabbing at my shirt. My body was jostled.
I have a shirt on?
“What, what, what…?” A breath exploded from my chest as my eyes shot open. “Where am I?” I reached out a hand and felt metal. It was coarse.
“Ozzie, it’s me.”
I blinked, turned my head. A young girl was pulling at my sweatshirt. It was dark wherever we were, but I could still see dirt caked onto her face, sprinkled in her hair.
“Mackenzie?” I gently touched her upper arm.
She nodded. “I’ve been waiting on you. Everyone’s been waiting on you.”
She did sound like her mother. But she looked like…me.
“How...?” I turned away, looking out through a metal cage. I touched it—rebar. People shuffled by in worn boots and work clothes. I saw one head turn in my direction. He was serious looking, but I thought I noticed a smile play at the corners of his mouth.
It was daytime, though the sky was gray. A blanket of fog nipped at the tops of tall trees. We were in the middle of a forest.
Back to Mackenzie. I held her arms. “Have they harmed you?”
“No. Not really. Some of them have been mean. They’ve kept me in this pen.”
We were sitting down. The pen was no more than four feet tall, maybe six feet wide, six feet deep.
“It gets cold, especially at night.” She reached behind her and grabbed something that looked like it had been buried underground. “I have this blanket.”
They’d been forcing her to live in squalor. I could feel my blood rippling through my veins. But at least I felt something. I ran my hands across the rebar outlining this mini-prison cell. It seemed to be put together well. A chain wrapped through the tiny door, secured by a keyed padlock.
“How long have I been here?”
“A couple of hours, I think. They’ve already had their lunch.”
“What have you been doing while I’ve just been sitting here knocked out?”
She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes finding the ground.
I touched her chin. “Mackenzie, you can tell me anything.”
She swallowed, then swept some of her frizzy hair away from her face. “I’ve been leaning against your shoulder.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad you did.” A warm sensation filled my core. I started to bring her in for a hug when she said...
“I know Mom is dead.” Tears leaped out of her blue eyes, and she buried her face against my shoulder.
I wrapped my arm around her and let her cry for a moment. I bit into the side of my cheek to keep my emotions at bay. I whispered, “I’m so sorry, Mackenzie.”
Her sobs grew deeper, and she began to pull on my sweatshirt. I held on to her, wishing I could make the pain go away. A week or so ago, I was wallowing in the aftermath of what I’d considered a torturous experience, trying to figure out a way to deal with all the betrayal and resentment and outright viciousness. And now, here I was, holding my child—yes, my own flesh and blood—as she mourned the death of her mother. I thought then of the video. Mackenzie could never know what had happened to her mother.
“Your mom loved you with all her heart.” I kissed the top of her head. She put her arms around my torso and squeezed. My ribs felt a stab, but the pain meant nothing. She could hold on to me for hours if it would help her get through this torment.
A clapping noise drew my attention outside the pen. I saw the legs of four people. Then a face appeared just on the other side of the rebar. It was long and thin, with an egg-shaped mouth, like one of those Halloween masks.
“What a pleasure it is to finally meet the great Ozzie Novak.” He clapped and chuckled. “I’m Joseph. Welcome to my Kingdom.”
43
“I hope you’re comfortable,” he said, still smiling, looking around our pen as if he were a hotel manager checking on a penthouse suite.
Mackenzie slinked behind my shoulder. It seemed as though she were hiding from Joseph, leader of this…kingdom.
“Why do you have us locked up?”
“Because you’re our guest.” He glanced up at the three people standing by him, and they grunted acknowledgement. I couldn’t see their faces. “Guests are not members,” he said, holding up a finger as if he were teaching me a lesson meant for a four-year-old. I was so tempted to reach between the gaps in the rebar and snatch his finger. I wouldn’t just break it; I’d hold on until I snapped it off.
“But I hope you know how special you are to us,” he said, bobbing his head up and down. He had wavy hair and an accent that said he was more farmer than charismatic leader.
“Special,” I muttered.
He continued to nod. “I hope you know we meant no one harm. But the time has come,” he said, shaking that finger again. “This world cannot continue down its current path. No, it just can’t. We must initiate the necessary change to enable the flock to follow us down a righteous path. All sinners will be gone. Mark my word.”
I could feel my forehead fold, which gave me the sensation of a knife slicing my skin.
“I can see you have doubt.” He moved his robe behind his back and raised his arms as if he were signaling a touchdown. “The good Lord knows all, and through his closest living prophet, He has chosen me to be His surrogate to the people of this land,” he said, now patting his chest.
This guy seemed as believable as a carnival employee. Why was I the only one who could see it?
“Why are you keeping us here?” I asked with more force than I’d intended. “And when will you let us go?”
“Go,” he said, nodding. He looked at the people above his head. Then he set his eyes back on me. He squinted, studying me. “You have no idea how long I’ve looked forward to this day.”
I wanted to say, “Well, I’m here, ass wipe. Open up this cage and let’s go a couple of rounds.” Instead, I said in my calmest voice, “Why am I so important to you, this kingdom?”
He pursed his lips. “As Malachi once said, ‘Fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
Well, isn’t that grand?
“Your time has come, Ozzie.” He looked me straight in the eye, then he fell back into carny mode. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” He paused. “Stick out your arm.”
“What? Why?” I scooted back a few inches, Mackenzie still behind me.
He snapped his fingers. “Do you not sip the wine before you drink from the bottle?”
I had no clue what he was talking about. Hesitantly, I stuck my hand through the rebar. Two men dropped to their knees and grabbed my arm. Instinctively, I pulled back. But they were big and strong. I recognized one of the brawny guys from the van.
I struggled against their sizable weight advantage, but in my reduced strength, I was at their mercy. Suddenly, the guy from the van pulled out a knife and held it skyward. Then Joseph did some type of ritual crossing over it and kissed it. Yes, he kissed the blade of a frickin’ knife. In a split second, they opened my hand and sliced a wedge right down the middle.
“No!” Mackenzie yelled.
They turned my hand, pumped on my arm, and forced the blood to drip into a cup. They let go, and I fell back into Mackenzie. A dirty rag was thrown into the pen.
Joseph leaned over. “Tonight as the moon rises and sun sets, the chosen one will drinketh from the chalice the sacred blood, the one who will fill him with the essence of Malachi.”
He flapped his cape as if he were Batman and then marched away followed by his two-goon squad.
“Ozzie, are you okay?” Mackenzie took the rag and tried to mop up blood from the cut. “Tell me you’re not going to die.” I could hear panic in her voice.
“It will be okay, Mackenzie. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
I could feel eyes on us. I flipped to look over my shoulder. It was a woman. She had long, flat hair. She wore no makeup, and her skin was pasty white.
“I can see that she already cares for you like a daughter would her father.”
It was the woman from the phone. Had to be. I studied her for a second, and she did the same of me. She shifted her sights to Mackenzie. A single tear escaped her eye. She quickly wiped it away. “I’m sorry, but this has to be.”
And then she was gone.
44
The pounding of the drums started at sunset and didn’t stop. They grew louder over time. Mackenzie huddled at my side, neither of us speaking much. Our eyes were unblinking, staring out from the pen, trying to see the location of the campsite where sacrifices were made on an almost nightly basis. Earlier, Mackenzie had shared that interesting bit of intel with me. With a tear in her eye, she’d told me that she could hear the squeal of animals as they burned to death over a fire.
I didn’t want to tell her that many of the foods she’d eaten came from animals who’d died in inhumane ways. It didn’t matter. Seeing her compassion for other living things had shown me another side to my daughter.
My daughter.
I couldn’t let Mackenzie die. We’d been together for mere hours, but the connection I felt inside was unlike anything I’d experienced in my life. It wa
s real and undeniable.
I’d been racking my brain all afternoon, trying to understand the psyche of the players involved, searching for any type of hole that might ultimately allow us to live or, better yet, to be free. This Joseph guy was a real piece of shit. He’d somehow convinced these poor souls to believe his garbage. But for what? To lead the world down a new path of righteousness? Back in Austin, I’d hear crackpots like that every other week on some street corner. Mostly, they were ignored. Sometimes people would drop a buck or two into their “donation bins” just because they felt sorry for a person who’d obviously gone off the rails.
But was that Joseph’s actual goal—to lead this group like he was Moses?
I glanced down and saw the blood-soaked rag wrapped around my hand, and my mind, now finally working on all cylinders, started dissecting everything that Joseph had said.
“The good Lord knows all, and through his closest living prophet, he has chosen me to be his surrogate to the people of this land.”
Through his closest living prophet.
When he’d first said it, the phrase had gotten lost in all the other nonsensical gibberish. Was the “closest living prophet” real? An actual person guiding Joseph? I’d seen Joseph exit out of some primitive-looking building at the far end of the camp. I wondered if he had a computer in there, how he might be communicating with this “living prophet.”
Mackenzie moved behind me and started drawing in the dirt. I could see it was her way of escaping this craziness. A sense of dread hung over us like a fog blanket. Any words of encouragement from me would surely be met with a roll of the eyes, if not a more irate response. She was a young girl who’d experienced something I could never have fathomed at nine years of age. I was too busy playing ball outside, swimming, or battling my brother for video-game dominance.
She swept some of her curly hair out of her face and focused on the vignette she was creating, giving me a moment to reorient my thoughts on Joseph’s ramblings. He was a big believer in the Old Testament, quoting from the book of Malachi twice.
Game ON (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 2) (Redemption Thriller Series 14) Page 18