Deranged Souls

by Ron Ripley

  “The boy.”

  Guillermo’s laugh was more of a bark than an expression of humor. “Are you mad?” he asked. “We were taken apart. There is no way we’re going to be able to enter the Village. Our casualties would be too high. If we managed to get the boy again, we wouldn’t have enough troops to withdraw once we had him.”

  David shook his head. “Unacceptable.”

  “Get out,” Guillermo spat.

  “What?” David demanded, anger furrowing his brow and causing his eyes to flash.

  “You heard me,” Guillermo hissed. “Get out.”

  David leaned forward, and Guillermo drew his pistol and aimed it at the man’s head, keeping the weapon far enough out of reach to prevent David from grabbing it.

  “Get up and get away,” Guillermo said softly. In his peripheral vision, he saw his men had their weapons drawn and fixed on David.

  David saw it, too. He glanced around, nodded, and straightened. “I will deal with you later.”

  “Get out,” Guillermo replied. “Keep your threats to yourself.”

  David’s hands were clenched into fists as he stood and left the cafeteria.

  Guillermo holstered his weapon and returned to his quiet contemplation of the disaster at the Village.

  Chapter 33: Movement

  The bodies were hidden in the woods. They were stripped bare and Tom, who seemed to have the strongest stomach of them all, had cheerfully bathed the bodies in bleach. Then, as the rest of them avoided the stench of the chemical, he had gone about cleaning the entire house.

  “He’s a worker,” Ellen said.

  Joyce nodded. “Hell of a job, though.”

  “He doesn’t mind it,” Victor said. “He had a rough time.”

  “Didn’t you both?” Joyce asked.

  Victor smiled sadly and nodded. “We did. It’s over now, and there’s not much we can do about it. We have each other as well as a friend of ours in New Hampshire. Tom takes after him very much. In fact, it was Shane, our friend, who taught Tom what he knows about weapons.”

  “What about the destruction of physical evidence?” Joyce asked as Tom walked into the room to the sink.

  Tom grinned at her. “What physical evidence?”

  “He also has Shane’s sense of humor, unfortunately,” Victor smiled apologetically.

  “No worries,” Joyce chuckled. Turning to Tom, she asked, “Everything good?”

  “Yup,” he nodded. “I found a logging road a little while ago. Not too much snow on it. I figure I’ll drive up the road about half a mile or so, turn off as soon as I can, and then drive the Caravan as far into the woods as possible. I’m hoping it’ll be a while before anyone finds them.”

  Joyce shook her head and looked at the teen. “I’m a little concerned with your knowledge of how to effectively inhibit the collection of trace evidence.”

  “I read a lot,” Tom said, his grin fading. “And there are, like Shane says, just some people who need killing.”

  Without another word, Tom left the kitchen.

  “Damn,” Ellen whispered.

  Victor sighed. “As I said, he has had a rough time of it. Putting aside our history for the moment, I think we may have to move far sooner than we anticipated.”

  “Yeah,” Joyce agreed. “I don’t know about this guy, Armand, whether he’ll come at us again or not.”

  “I think there’s a good chance he will, unfortunately,” Ellen said. “Alfor’s been contracted by Worthe to basically do whatever he wants, so it doesn’t matter if Armand thinks it's cost-effective to send a bigger team after us or not. Alfor’s there to do a job. That’s it.”

  “So,” Joyce said, looking at Victor. “We definitely need to be on the move.”

  Victor nodded. “All right. We’ll gather up our gear today and be out of here in the next couple of hours. We’ll simply have to move quickly to keep ahead of any more Alfor troops.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Joyce winced as she stood up. Smiling at Ellen, she asked, “You ready for this?”

  “To see ghosts again?” When Joyce nodded, the other woman laughed and shook her head. “Hell no! But, hey, what else is there to do?”

  “A lot,” Joyce said, hating the seriousness in her own voice. “Ellen, you don’t have to do this.”

  Ellen smiled, sadness in her eyes. “I do, though, Joyce. Really. Stupid as it sounds, I need closure. I hate what I was part of. I need to help get Marcus and Alex, hell, even Timmy Knip out of that place.”

  “Thank you,” Joyce said, hugging Ellen.

  Ellen hugged her back tightly. “Don’t thank me yet. Nobody’s been saved.”

  Joyce watched her friend leave the kitchen, then looked down at her knee. She remembered the pain of the injury and shook her head.

  Warren, she thought sadly, why were you such a damned coward?

  Chapter 34: Fond Farewells

  There was a touch of spring in the air as Armand stepped out of the Humvee. His driver looked at him, and Armand shook his head.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. “Where it’s safe.”

  “Your helmet?” the driver asked.

  “Unnecessary,” Armand answered. He closed the door to show the conversation was at an end. Walking along the compacted snow, he approached the wrought iron gate. Beyond it was the Village, a place denied to him and his men.

  “I know one of you is there,” he said in French.

  Brother Michel appeared. “What brings you here, Armand? Do you not know it is dangerous for the living?”

  “Not for all the living,” Armand replied bitterly.

  The Brother nodded. “You speak truthfully. Now, tell me why you are here.”

  “I wish to speak to the boy,” Armand replied.

  “Alex, the living boy?”

  “Is there another?” Armand asked.

  The Brother shook his head. “Give me a moment.”

  The dead man vanished with a disturbing alacrity. Armand stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. Behind him, the driver kept the engine of the Humvee running. Minutes passed, the gas lamps on either side of the cobblestone road glowing dimly in the late afternoon light. The clock chimed four, and then, fifteen minutes later, he saw the door to 114 Broad open.

  Alex walked confidently down the road. Armand watched the boy wave and pause to speak with people Armand could not see. The sight was disturbing and set his teeth on edge.

  Finally, Alex reached the gate, standing on the opposite side of it. Armand felt uncomfortable, as though he were being watched from every angle.

  They’re around me, he realized. If I were to try anything, I would be dead before I could move.

  The thought was sobering.

  “Hi,” Alex said, smiling pleasantly. “What can I do for you, Armand?”

  Armand found his throat was dry. He cleared it. “I am here to request a favor. Two, actually.”

  Alex eyed him warily. “Maybe.”

  “First,” Armand said, “I was hoping I might impose upon you regarding the bodies of my men.”

  Alex tilted his head sideways, his eyes narrowing with genuine confusion. “Why? The bodies are only meat now. Whatever spark was there, it’s gone. Just one of them, Miguel, he was the one who stayed behind, and he’s not even here anymore. He’s with his brother.”

  Only meat, Armand thought. A child of war if any I have seen.

  “True,” Armand agreed. “They are only meat, but meat which their loved ones wish to have. I would greatly appreciate it, Alex, if you would release their bodies to me.”

  Alex shrugged and answered, “Okay. So, what’s the other favor?”

  “Well,” Armand began, but he found it difficult to continue.

  “Tell me,” Alex said in Arabic with surprising gentleness. “What is it you wish to say?”

  “My birth mother,” Armand said roughly. “How did she die?”

  Alex looked past Armand, nodded, and then said in Arabic, “Your mother, she died from an illnes
s. She doesn’t know what it was. It, um, ‘carried me away,’ quickly. She was supposed to go back for you. That’s what she told me. She was dead, though. Ever since then, she’s been beside you.”

  Armand closed his eyes, hating to think what the dead woman had seen him do.

  “She wishes,” the boy continued, “that you would remember how you were raised. She wants you to be charitable and pious, to pray and to make your pilgrimage. She doesn’t want you to be sad about her being dead. Or about anybody being dead. Death is just something that happens. Sometimes easy, sometimes hard. But it’s there.”

  Armand opened his eyes, wiped the tears away, and nodded. “Yes, I will. Thank you, Alex. There is something I wish to tell you.”

  “Sure.” Alex smiled. “What is it?”

  “Alfor is leaving,” Armand stated. “We won’t be guarding the Village anymore.”

  “Oh,” Alex said happily. “That’s really cool. Thanks!”

  The boy waved goodbye to him, turned around, and walked away.

  Armand watched him until the child was safely in the house again, and then he laughed.

  Safe in the house? This entire Village is his, where will he not be safe?

  Armand walked back to the Humvee. It was time to speak with David.

  ***

  David sat with Erica Schomp in medical. Professor Worthe lay on one of the beds, his face pale and drawn as he snored lightly. The door opened, and Armand walked in.

  “Where are your medics?” David asked as Armand stopped a short distance away from him.

  “They’re packing,” Armand replied.

  Erica didn’t look up from her book, but David saw her shoulders tense.

  “Why,” David asked carefully, “are your medics packing?”

  “Alfor is pulling out,” Armand stated. “Our control officer is drafting the letter as we speak. We shall be refunding the security deposit made by Professor Worthe.”

  Armand glanced at the sleeping form of the professor.

  “In addition,” Armand continued, “we will be reimbursing him for the cost of shipping us in, less than the amount for the initial team sent in.”

  “This is absurd,” David said, finding his voice again. “Your organization has a contract with the professor.”

  “Yes,” Armand replied, “it certainly does. In that contract, you will find specific riders concerning excessive losses and unrealistic expectations on the part of the employer. As you so cheerfully pointed out at the beginning of this business relationship, David, a close reading of the contract was required. Did you fail to read it?”

  David hated the smug tone in the man’s voice, and he fought the urge to draw his sidearm and kill him. “When do you plan on leaving?” he asked bitterly.

  “We will be gone in a matter of hours,” Armand answered. “I gave the order this morning after I spoke with my superiors.”

  “Why are you telling me at this late hour?” David demanded. “As far as I know, there was an agreement that you would give us a minimum of forty-eight hours prior to withdrawal, and that you would leave a skeleton force in place until a new company could be brought in.”

  “Ah,” Armand said, nodding, “you would be correct. However, the professor deemed it an unnecessary expense.”

  “What?” David asked, surprised.

  Armand smiled politely. “Yes. Evidently, he contacted Alfor’s headquarters several days ago, canceling that portion of the contract. He needed, and please, I am only quoting here, ‘the extra money to facilitate the return of his fiancé.’”

  Erica put down the book she was reading and looked at Armand. “When was this sent in?”

  “Two in the morning on this past Thursday,” Armand answered.

  Erica nodded, picked the book up again, and started to read once more.

  “I’m going to take my leave of you now,” Armand said. “If you want my advice, you should pack up as well. I don’t think the boy is going to stay in the Village for long.”

  “What does he have to do with this?” David demanded.

  Armand appeared genuinely surprised. “David, the boy is the king of the dead. There is nothing they do without his approval or consent.”

  “He’s a kid!” David barked.

  “He is a king,” Armand said firmly. “Be forewarned. Alex reigns supreme in the Village. Soon, he shall reign outside of it as well.”

  Armand turned to Erica, bowed and said, “You are sad, Nurse Schomp, and for that I am sorry. I wish you the best.”

  David was shocked to see a look of sorrow on the woman’s face as she peered at Armand.

  “You’re a lot more perceptive than I realized,” she said softly. “Thank you. Have a safe flight.”

  Armand bowed again and left the room.

  David stared after him and shook his head. “What the hell?”

  Erica lowered the book in her hands. “What’re you upset about?”

  “What do you mean?” David asked.

  “David, this has been coming. All along. Didn’t you realize that?”

  “No,” he said bitterly.

  “You did,” she chided him. “It’s why we’ve had our discussions. Soon, we’re going to have to make a decision.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Soon,” Erica countered, glancing at the professor.

  “Before we leave here,” David said after a moment, “we need to make sure all his data is saved and uploaded.”

  “Can you do that?” Erica asked.

  David nodded.

  “Good,” she said bitterly. “It seems I can’t risk going to the bathroom without him getting onto a computer and making a bad situation worse. We’ll have to sedate him at night if he’s to get any real rest. Plus, we’ll need to sleep, too.”

  David rubbed his face and got to his feet. He paced about medical for a minute. Finally, he looked at her and asked, “How long would you need to set up what we talked about?”

  “Two days. Three at the most,” she answered. “But I would make sure you’ve saved whatever it is you need to save first. If they do get out of the Village, then we won’t stand a chance in hell of making it out alive.”

  “I’ll start securing everything tonight,” David answered bitterly. “When I’m done, I’ll let you know. Should we have him rest in his room?”

  Erica shook her head. “No. It’ll be hard enough to control him in here. In his room, it’ll be a madhouse. He’ll go crazy trying to find the damned tooth again.”

  “What did you ever do with that?” David asked.

  “I shattered it with a bone hammer,” she answered, picking up her book.

  “And then?” he asked.

  Erica yawned. “Then I dumped it in the chemical toilet, where it should have been the whole time.”

  Chapter 35: A Dead Kingdom

  Marcus put the rifle beneath the couch, sat down, and looked at his son.

  Timmy lay unconscious, his skin pale enough to reveal the network of capillaries beneath it. One vein, in particular, running along the curve of Timmy’s temple, held Marcus’ attention. He could see the irregular heartbeat mirrored beneath the skin.

  Marcus watched the younger man, hating his inability to save him.

  “He’s almost gone.”

  Marcus startled at the sound of the voice and twisted around to see Timmy’s grandfather, Dennis Knip, standing behind him. Dennis smiled fondly at Timmy, then, to Marcus. “My daughter spoke of you. Never by name. Only as ‘Timmy’s father.’”

  Dennis walked closer and looked down at his grandson.

  “She was a hard girl,” he said. “Didn’t open up to too many. Fact that she, well, wanted a child with you, says a lot.”

  “It’s unfortunate she did not want me around,” Marcus said, his voice raw with emotion.

  “Hell, that was her. Stubborn an’ colder ‘n hell when she wanted to be. Can’t say as I blame her. Lauren had a rough go of it after my wife passed.”

  “Illness?” Marcus a
sked.

  Dennis peered at him, as if to be certain Marcus didn’t know the real answer, then, satisfied that he did not, the dead man shook his head.

  “I wish it had been something as peaceful as that,” Dennis sighed. “Timmy doesn’t know how his grandmother died. And, if I wasn’t sure the boy wasn’t asleep right now, I wouldn’t even mention her name. As it is, Timmy is asleep, so you may as well know. When my daughter was three years old, my wife had a bit of a breakdown. She went to the corner, flagged down a police officer, and killed him. Bit his jugular right out. Then, she took his pistol, an old thirty-eight service revolver, went back inside the apartment, and put a round into my girl’s head before she blew her own brains out all over our wedding picture.”

  “Why?” Marcus whispered horrified.

  “Good question,” Dennis said bitterly. “When I see her again, if I do, I’ll be sure to ask. It’s been on my list of things to do for a hell of a long time. Anyway, she didn’t leave a note. Nothing of the kind. Well, I get home from workin’ at the mill, I pass by all these cops hunting up and down the street for something, and I go inside the apartment building. Now, the first thing I get is Mrs. Mahoney, my downstairs neighbor, yelling at me about the baby crying. Complaining about how my wife’s not answering the door or anything.”

  Dennis shook his head, his face a bitter, angry mask. “This wasn’t unusual for my wife. Plenty of days, she would leave the baby inside and just wander. So, there I am, opening up the apartment door with Mrs. Mahoney yelling and Lauren screaming. Then, all of a sudden, Mrs. Mahoney, she’s screaming, too, and pointing inside the apartment.”

  Marcus waited as the dead man gathered the courage to continue with the story.

  “Mrs. Mahoney,” Dennis continued, “she’s screaming because she can see the baby. Lauren’s covered in blood. Bullet went in at an angle, see, and traveled around the scalp before it came out behind her left ear. Happens a lot. Lot more than people realize. Now, not all the blood is Lauren’s. No, some of it’s her mom’s. Lauren was under the table when she was shot, and she must have been knocked out, else I’m sure her mom would’ve put another bullet in her to finish the job. My wife, she put the wedding picture on the dining table and shot herself. Did it wrong, too, from what I could see. Blood everywhere, which means she lived for a hell of a long time.”