Game ON (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 2) (Redemption Thriller Series 14)

by John W. Mefford

  “As Malachi has 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.’”

  My mind went to the word “eternal.”

  “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.”

  Damn, he was talking about my blood.

  I wasn’t stupid, and I doubted that they’d brought me across the country to “sip the wine.”

  Without openly saying it, I was their sacrifice to roast over a fire like a skewered pig. “Your time has come, Ozzie.”

  I took in a breath and tried to keep my anger from getting the best of me. I wrapped the fingers from my good hand around the rebar and squeezed until it hurt. Rattling the cage, throwing a fit, would only draw more attention to us. If anything, we needed the opposite. More time, less attention.

  I began to mimic Mackenzie, running my pointer finger through the dirt, allowing all the information I’d heard, all the horror I’d witnessed over the last several days to soak in the same mental bucket.

  It came to me in mere seconds, as if my brain had just found the secret door to a treasure. I remembered sitting in the TGI Friday’s in LAX and Denise reading to me the story of Camp Israel, of the people who’d been held captive for thirty years. The leader of that group—Malachi.

  I wasn’t sure why I’d blocked this piece of data from my mind.

  Now, I recounted Joseph’s words with a filter in a place. And I asked myself one question: was there any way the “closest living prophet” was none other than Malachi? He was in prison, or so Alex and Nick had been led to believe. That had been one of their tasks, to see if he was still behind bars.

  What if he wasn’t? What if he’d escaped and was the true leader of this cult?

  Mackenzie turned and looked at me, trying to smile. I put my hand against her face, and she leaned into it. Then her eyes went wide. “Look, it’s Cecelia.”

  It took me a second to see through a number of people walking by us, likely headed to the festivities down by the ring of fire—wasn’t that a Johnny Cash song? Anyway, I followed her gaze until I found the woman who’d been here earlier, the one from the phone, leaning against the building, her hands in her pockets. She looked off in the distance and then back to us. Then again, the same routine.

  “Her name is Cecelia?” I asked, my eyes still on the woman.

  “That’s what I heard Joseph call her. He used her name a lot that one night when he got into the pen with me.”

  I flipped my head around. “Do what? Did he…?”

  “Stranger danger. My mom told me all about it. No way that guy was going to touch me, not in that way. I kicked and scratched and did everything to keep him off me. Finally, he gave up and said something about having his way with Cecelia. Since then, he’s stayed away.” She paused as her eyes looked beyond me.

  “What do you want from us?”

  I turned to see Cecelia at the cage.

  45

  Cecelia wrapped her fingers around the rebar. It almost seemed as though she wanted to be inside the pen with us. And there, I saw a crack I could exploit.

  “Do you like it here in this camp, Cecelia?”

  She shifted her eyes to me and blinked. She looked tired. “What do you mean?”

  “Joseph and all his rituals and sacrifices. Is this really who you are?”

  She swallowed and blinked again. “He means well. We’re following the prophet. Through his guidance, we can change the course of the world.”

  “Is this prophet named Malachi?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I know about Camp Israel, remember? You guys sent me there.”

  Mackenzie leaned against me. No way I was going to bring up the death of her mom.

  “We did our research. He’s the prophet, isn’t he? That’s who’s giving Joseph this edict to change the world.”

  She turned her head, looking away from us.

  “Do you know the story of Malachi? By the way, I think his real name is Eldridge Kaufman.”

  “Yes, I read about it. But Joseph has a deeper connection, both with the Lord and the prophet. He knows him in a different way.”

  “Do you know what he did to people? Do you know that, behind everyone’s back, he was simply trying to scam innocent people out of their money?”

  She wiped her face and scanned the ground.

  “What? Please tell me what you’re thinking, Cecelia. Because here in a few minutes, your people, led by Joseph, might be roasting me over a fire.” I’d purposely kept Mackenzie out of the conversation, but I was almost certain they would not allow her to live.

  The crowd behind Cecelia was thinning out, which meant that most people were probably gathered by the fire pit. She brought her hand to her lips, as if she were trying to keep words locked inside.

  “Cecelia. I can see you’re a good person. Even the way you spoke to me over the phone. You’re not like Joseph.” I paused, waiting for a response, even a signal. Nothing came. “None of us are perfect, Cecelia. We’re human. We’ve made mistakes, but it’s not too late to change. I’m just like you. I’ve made tons of mistakes in my life. And I’m sure I’ll make—”

  “It’s you, okay?” she blurted out, jerking her head to me.

  “Me? What about me?”

  She picked up a handful of dirt, then tossed it back to the ground. “Ozzie, your blood is Malachi’s blood.”

  I suddenly became lightheaded. My hands balled into fists, my nails digging into the cut on my one hand. I breathed out the word, “What?”

  “You, Ozzie, are Malachi’s son. This is why Joseph wants to make you a sacrifice, to drink your blood. He believes he’s channeling Malachi by drinking the blood of his son.”

  If I’d been standing, I might have keeled over. As it was, my heart couldn’t beat any faster.

  “Ozzie, what is she saying?” Mackenzie asked, pulling at my sweatshirt.

  I patted my daughter on her head, and she rested it against my shoulder. She seemed to sense that her questions could wait until later. I trained my eyes on Cecelia, sizing her up. Was this another one of their ninja mind tricks? She didn’t look away. Our stare-off lasted a good thirty seconds.

  “I’m adopted,” I said.

  “I know. We know everything about your life, Ozzie.”

  Something thumped my chest. The drums, my heart…I couldn’t tell for sure.

  “You passed all the tests. You have his unbreakable will. You are just like—”

  “Don’t say it.” Now I was the one looking away. A murdering sociopath? I’m his son? How?

  I tried to speak, but I couldn’t formulate a coherent thought.

  “You were going to find out before…” she said, her words trailing off.

  “How do you know this is true?”

  “We have people in places. They want to be part of this global change. It means something to them.”

  “Like Gwen?”

  Cecilia’s chest hitched just a bit, but she didn’t confirm it.

  “I wondered if she had somehow been wrapped up in this.” I glanced down at Mackenzie, still leaning against me. She was playing with a few strands of hair, seemingly in another world. I looked back at Cecelia. Part of me wanted to just rip her a new one, for the deception, the kidnapping of an innocent child, the assaults, killing Denise, possibly killing others as well. And for what? To see if I could stand up to some bizarre set of tests to prove I was worthy of them sacrificing me, drinking my blood?

  “You don’t approve—I understand. Many have sacrificed to get us where we are today. But after tonight, we begin the pilgrimage.”

  “To where? To do what? This is nuts, Cecelia. Killing anyone…drinking blood won’t change the world. It takes sensible people sitting down and connecting, finding common ground. It takes respect. Not killing. Not deceiving.”

  She didn’t arg
ue the point.

  Mackenzie sat up, lifted my arm, and put her head on my lap. Cecelia’s eyes lingered on my daughter.

  “Just know that you are a lucky man to finally see your daughter before, you know…” Her eyes became glassy.

  I sensed she’d experienced loss. Another possible opening. And I knew I had only one more shot.

  “She’s a gift,” I said in a calm tone, nodding.

  She didn’t move her sights off Mackenzie, but there was something behind her eyes that told me more.

  “Cecelia, did you lose a daughter?”

  She went still, her eyes dazed.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I was a rebel when I was young. Always partying, looking to mingle with the older crowd. This charming guy, Drew Stanley, caught my eye. He said I caught his, but I now know the truth.” Tears welled, but that didn’t stop her. “I got pregnant. I was only fifteen. Drew wanted no part of me or the baby. He spit in my face when I told him.”

  She paused. In a normal setting, I might have reached out, touched her arm. But the rebar cage and the situation prevented that response.

  “We lived in a small town in rural Indiana. No way would I be able to have a kid out of wedlock, not at that age. My parents sent me off to my aunt’s home in Los Angeles, where I put the baby up for adoption.”

  Tears rolled down her face. She wiped one away but stopped after that.

  “You miss her, don’t you?”

  She looked down, nodded.

  “It’s not too late, Cecelia. There are ways to find your kids. I’m a lawyer. I can help you. I have friends who can help you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “But I don’t deserve her. I gave her away.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for something that happened when you were fifteen. But it really doesn’t matter what age you were. We make decisions every day that can be ridiculed at any point in the future. It’s part of being human.”

  She looked up at me, hope in her eyes.

  “The point is, you miss her. And that makes complete sense. I have a feeling that, if you reached out, she’ll want to get to know her mom. Her real mom.”

  She bit into her bottom lip, eyes darting everywhere, finally landing on Mackenzie.

  Some type of horn blew off in the distance.

  “I’ve got to go and get ready.” She wiped her face, pulled a cross necklace out from under her shirt, leaned over, and said a quick prayer.

  “Cecelia, we can help each other.”

  She got to her knees, glanced at me briefly, and then pushed up and walked away.

  “Cecelia.” I put my face against the rebar as I watched our only hope walk off.

  We were all alone. Although I knew, in a few minutes, the goon squad would come back to get us and take us to our deaths.

  I grabbed the rebar with both hands and shook it with everything I had. It hardly budged.

  “Ozzie,” Mackenzie said.

  “What?” I asked, with my face now pressed against the rebar, catching the last glimpse of Cecelia fading into the horde of people. Then I saw a flame flicker to life.

  They’d started the fire.

  “Ozzie, look at what I found.”

  Mackenzie got in front of me and held a key in front of my face.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “On the ground, right by the edge of the cage,” she said, patting the dirt.

  Cecelia had left it for us, I was certain. I quickly tried the key in the padlock. It fit. I turned the key, unhooked the lock from the chain, and slowly scooted the door open about a foot. I pushed Mackenzie through the small opening, then wedged myself out while keeping one eye on the group by the growing fire. They were all chanting something.

  We got to our feet, and she took my hand. There was a path into the woods, and we ran like our feet were on fire.

  46

  My legs felt like they weren’t mine, so Mackenzie and I ran at about the same pace. I took a quick peek down at her. She was pumping her arms, her cheeks puffing out with each breath. Damn, I was proud of her grit, her unyielding desire to cling to life in the prison, and now this brave push to get out of this hellhole.

  The woods were thick, and while a little glare from above helped to see the ground, I had to just pray that we wouldn’t trip over anything—that was the main reason I kept us on the path.

  “Do you think…do you think…we’re safe?” Mackenzie asked, barely able to get words out through her stressed lungs.

  “Don’t know. Let’s keep going.”

  Not more than a few steps later, she stopped on a dime. I pulled up. “We need to go. Come on.”

  She brought a finger up to her mouth. “Shh.”

  I glanced around. Nothing was moving, but I couldn’t hear if anyone might be lurking behind a tree.

  I asked, “What do you hear?”

  “Nothing.” I tried grabbing her hand. She pulled it away and said, “I was hearing the drums while we were running. They were really low, but I heard them. Now I don’t.”

  “Maybe we’re finally too far.” I reached for her hand again.

  She shook her head. I twisted around, scanning the area with eyes that I wished had night-vision. As I moved back a step, I saw glint of light through the cracks of the wilderness.

  I pointed in that direction. “Shit. That’s the camp. I think we might have circled back on this path. Fuck! Come on.”

  She said something, but I didn’t hear her. I took her hand and headed off the path, moving directly away from the campsite. Our pace had been cut in half—we couldn’t see a damn thing until it was on top of us—but it was worth it to put real distance between us and the nutjobs.

  Another minute passed, and then I saw a clearing. “Let’s pick it up.” I began to jog, and Mackenzie fell in right behind me. The cold air singed my lungs, but in some respects, it felt good. I was doing something to keep us alive, which beat the hell out of helplessly walking to the fire pit and being burned alive.

  I cut around a tree and began to see white on some of the limbs. It had been snowing. We might freeze out in the middle of... Where were we? Not only did I not know what direction we were running, I had no clue what city or state we were in.

  “You’re doing awesome, Mackenzie,” I said.

  “Thanks.” She had some pep in her voice. She seemed to like the positive reinforcement. I could sense that she felt the same hope that I did.

  “We’re making progress. Another five minutes or so, and then we’ll—”

  I felt the pop in my hip at the exact moment my shoe jammed into something hard. My head dipped forward. My momentum sent me airborne. The next thing I knew, my face slammed into the frozen dirt.

  I moaned. “Mackenzie?” I looked up, didn’t see her. Hearing what sounded like a chuckle, I flipped around. A tall silhouette was holding Mackenzie, who was trying to shake her way loose.

  I got up on all fours, ready to lunge at the guy.

  “Don’t make a move.”

  A light flicked on. It was the glow of his phone moving up next to his ear—the guy from the van was smiling as he waited for whomever to pick up the line. I could just make out Mackenzie’s face. He had his arm hooked around her body, the barrel of a pistol pressed into her chin.

  “Stop moving,” I yelled to Mackenzie. She froze.

  “Found ’em. Yep. Up here, just forty yards south of the north 2A zone. Right. Out.” He pressed a button, turned on his flashlight, and shined it in my face. I turned my head for a second.

  “You have sinned, Ozzie. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, not expecting a good reason. “Look. Just let us go, and we’ll make sure the authorities know you helped us. They’ll let you off.”

  “You think I’m some kind of ignoramus country boy?”

  He’d asked, but I refused to say what I was thinking. “You’re the smartest one of the whole bunch.” Damn, I needed his name to really connect. “And smart pe
ople make the best decisions under stress. You don’t want to go to prison, do you?”

  He brought the phone to his chin and scratched it.

  I looked over my shoulder. I could see a bouncing light moving our way. Back to the guy. I said, “Come on. Let us go, and you’re safe.”

  “I wouldn’t let you go if Jesus dropped down on this Earth and did a dance in a silly little dress right in front of me.” He snorted out a laugh.

  Something moved in the darkness behind him. His head bobbed forward slightly.

  “Drop the gun before I put a bullet through your skull.”

  “Alex?”

  The man dropped his gun as Alex wheeled around to where I could see her. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen…aside from my little girl. “Hey there,” she said, her eyes and gun still trained on the stupid sap.

  Mackenzie rammed into my chest just then. She hugged me and began to cry.

  “Get down on your knees,” Alex said to the man.

  “I’m not doing anything a woman tells me to do, no matter what you have in your hands.”

  Quicker than I could say Mackenzie, Alex had snapped her arm and popped the guy on the nose with the butt of her pistol. He dropped to his knees, squealing like a pig. His phone also dropped, and the light from the screen shined upward. Alex asked me to pick up the man’s gun. The moment I had the gun in my hand, I heard another voice.

  “Everyone just needs to stay calm and not move a muscle.”

  I turned to see two dark figures. It sounded like Joseph, but someone was in front of him.

  I said, “It’s over, Joseph. The FBI is here and—”

  “Alex Troutt, I believe.”

  A pause.

  “That’s me. Why don’t you come over and shake my hand,” she said. I could see her gun aimed in the direction of Joseph.

  How did he know Alex? It must have been her connection to Camp Israel and that lunatic who ran it, Malachi. He was my father. I would have hurled from the thought had I not been worried about surviving this situation.

  “While I didn’t predict it, I knew it was a possibility, given your skill set and history.” Joseph sounded a little too happy right now.