Devil's Throat (The River Book 6)

by Michael Richan

  Then what are you going to do? Winn thought.

  Michael’s going to go back and get your bodies, Emmett thought, and then we’re going to bleed you in The Throat. The ground is thirsty there right now, and the blood of you four will keep things nice and moist for a while. Emmett walked to a corner of the room, where he lifted a small square door on the floor. Inside, he thought.

  One by one they were brought to the opening and tossed into it. Then the door slammed shut above them.

  Steven looked around the dark and smelly room they were in. It was ten feet square, just tall enough to stand up in. He tried to move out of the room, past the walls and back up into the basement, but he couldn’t.

  The room’s been protected, Winn thought. You can’t move through it. It’s like a jail cell in the River.

  And these marks? Roy thought. I’m guessing they’re stopping us from returning into our bodies.

  Exactly, Winn thought. They force us to remain in the trance. Even if we could get out of this room, the best we could do is stand by our bodies in the motel room and wish we could get back into them.

  Your mark isn’t as bright as ours, Deem thought, looking at Winn’s mark on his neck.

  Really? he thought. I can’t see mine. I got branded a half hour before you. As soon as I showed up to get Jason, they hit me from behind.

  What do we do? Deem thought.

  If we don’t stop Michael, Roy thought, we’re all doomed. I’m going back to the motel room to see what’s happening.

  I told you, you can’t, Winn thought. You can’t get out of this room.

  He’s split-trancing, Deem thought to Winn.

  Winn’s expression changed from dejection to elation. He smiled and looked up at Roy. Really? he thought. You are?

  Yes, Roy thought. And I’ve got a knife in my hands.

  Thank god, Winn thought. We’re in your hands now.

  Steven didn’t know if Winn meant we were in Roy’s hands, or God’s hands, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to try and get out. Let them kill me, he thought. Jason has abandoned me. Worse, he gave us over to these bastards.

  Roy closed his eyes and flipped over to the other trance he’d initiated once he’d reached St. Thomas. He could see through the eyes of his body, back at the motel. The room was lit by the nightstand light. He turned his head and saw Steven next to him, breathing shallowly. Past him, in the next bed, he saw Deem.

  He turned his head back. He tried lifting his arm that held the knife. It went up, slowly. He knew he didn’t have enough strength to make his body stand up and move around. The best he’d be able to do is raise the knife from where he lay. He tried raising the knife a few more times, each time becoming a little quicker, but nowhere fast enough for his liking.

  He heard movement outside the door. Roy looked as someone worked on the lock from the other side and the handle rotated. Slowly the door opened, letting the hot air from outside billow into the room. It was Michael.

  Michael looked around the room, then walked into the adjoining room. In a moment he came back.

  Roy was closest to the door. He was hoping Michael would take him first, so he could use his knife on him before he hauled other bodies out to his car and killing him made for a scene in the motel parking lot. He forced himself to make a noise to draw Michael’s attention. It came out like a whine.

  Michael turned and walked over to Roy. Roy kept the knife under his leg, gripping the handle tightly. Roy moaned again, and Michael turned and disappeared into the bathroom. He returned to Roy and walked to the side of the bed. He had a washcloth in his hands.

  Ready, Roy thought. Get ready.

  Michael wadded the washcloth into a ball and shoved it into Roy’s mouth. Not close enough, Roy thought. He’s got to be right over me for it to work.

  Michael walked over to Deem. He eyed her body, considering options. Roy could see Michael reach to his belt and start to undo his buckle.

  Roy moaned again.

  “Shut up, old man!” Michael said, continuing to remove his belt. He had his pants open and was lowering his zipper.

  Roy moaned again, trying to get Michael’s attention, but Michael ignored him. Michael reached for Deem’s pants, unbuttoning them and trying to slide them down her legs. They were tight, and he was struggling, but he was intent.

  Roy moaned again. “I said shut up!” Michael said, continuing to pull on Deem’s pants. He stopped and let his hands wander up her body to her breasts, where he lingered, groping. It kicked him into a higher gear, and he reached down to push his own pants lower, then returned to trying to pull off Deem’s jeans.

  Roy gave the loudest moan he could muster, forcing the washcloth out of his mouth with his tongue. The moan pulled Michael away from his task, irritated.

  “That’s it!” Michael said, jumping off Deem and walking over to Roy. “I told you to shut up, you old fuck!” he said as he grabbed the washcloth. He spat into it and wadded it once again into a ball. He leaned over Roy and shoved the washcloth forcefully into Roy’s mouth, pressing it in until it was well past his teeth. Roy felt himself struggling to breathe. Michael kept pressing. Roy tried another moan – it was muffled, but it came out. It seemed to make Michael even angrier. “Shut up, shut up!” Michael yelled, pressing on the washcloth. He leaned over and placed his face right next to Roy’s. “Shut up!” he screamed.

  Roy raised his knife. He aimed it at Michael’s midsection, hoping for the heart, but willing to take anything that might stop him.

  Roy felt the blade meet resistance as it hit Michael, then Roy doubled his efforts and pressed upward as hard and as fast as his body would allow. The knife began to sink past Michael’s clothes and into his chest. Michael’s face changed from one of anger to confusion. Roy pressed again and again, trying to drive the blade as deep as he could.

  Take that, you sick fuck, Roy thought.

  Michael’s face, still right in front of Roy’s, turned from confusion to anger, and Roy knew he had only a second more before his shot was over. He summoned all of the energy he had and ordered his arm to press upward as hard as he possibly could.

  He felt the knife slide the rest of the way into Michael, all the way to the hilt. He could feel Michael’s clothing next to his hand where he held the knife’s handle. He kept pressing.

  Michael pulled away. Roy released his hold on the knife. As he stepped back, Roy could see the knife was placed squarely in Michael’s chest. Michael looked down at the knife, a look of shock washing over him. He reached for the knife, and grabbed it.

  Shit! Roy thought. He’ll pull it out and use it on me!

  Michael’s hand wrapped around the knife’s handle, and he tried to pull it out. It wouldn’t come. He raised his other hand, adding it to the one already there. With both hands he pulled, but it was stuck.

  I must have landed the serrated edge under a rib, Roy thought.

  Michael tried again. He looked at Roy, shock and horror on his face as he began to realize he wasn’t going to remove the knife.

  Die, motherfucker! Roy thought. Go straight to hell!

  Michael’s eyes began to glaze over as his thoughts left the idea of removing the knife and shifted to something else. He dropped to his knees next to the bed, still grasping the knife, but no longer trying to pull it. Roy could see he was close to passing out. After another agonizing moment, he fell forward and hit the floor, out of Roy’s sight.

  Roy let himself return to the basement cell at the hotel in St. Thomas. The others were sitting still around him.

  He’s dead, Roy thought. I killed him.

  Steven was looking at the floor of the cell. He didn’t look up, but Roy saw a smile spread across his face.

  You stabbed him? Deem asked.

  Yes, Roy thought. In the chest. He just fell to the floor beside me.

  Thank god, Winn thought. At least we’ll have bodies to go back to.

  He was about to rape you, Deem, Roy thought. I stopped him. You’ll f
ind your clothes a little disheveled when you get back.

  Thank you, Deem thought, shivering.

  Your brand, Roy thought, looking at Winn. It’s much lighter than when I went back to the motel room.

  Yours are getting lighter, too, Winn thought.

  What will happen when it’s no longer glowing? Deem asked. Will we be able end our trances?

  I’m guessing yes, Winn thought. It’ll happen to me first, so we’ll find out.

  Michael isn’t going to be showing up with bodies, Deem said. I presume they’ll keep waiting for him to arrive before they decide to remove us.

  If we’re lucky, Winn thought, these brands will be gone before they realize Michael isn’t coming.

  That, Roy thought, or they remember to re-brand us.

  Let’s all be ready to slip out of here the second the brands are gone, Winn thought. We’ll rendezvous at the motel room but then we’ll have to leave quickly.

  Thank you, Steven thought. Thank you for killing him.

  You’re welcome, Roy thought to Steven. And I’m sorry we didn’t do it before, back when we should have.

  Steven looked up at Roy, and their eyes met. Steven nodded at Roy, and Roy nodded back. Steven smiled briefly. Roy could tell how upset he was, he knew Steven wanted to cry. But he knew Steven wasn’t going to break down in front of Winn and Deem.

  What are you going to do about Jason? Deem asked.

  I don’t know, Steven thought. I really don’t.

  He’s obviously too far gone, Winn thought. He’s on their side now.

  You may be right, Steven thought. I may have lost him.

  We’ll have to see how this plays out, Roy thought. Things might change.

  They waited. Deem kept an eye on Winn’s brand, and after a while she noticed it was beginning to fade rapidly.

  Michael should have been back with the bodies by now, Winn thought. Someone upstairs is going to start wondering soon.

  It’s Jason, Roy thought. He’s back in the motel.

  What’s he doing? Deem asked. Steven turned his head to listen to Roy’s answers.

  He’s walked into our room from where he was sleeping, Roy thought, dictating to the group what he was seeing in the other trance.

  Roy shifted back to the motel room fully. Jason was looking at Deem, Steven, and himself all lying on the beds. Then he noticed Michael behind Roy’s bed. A look of anguish appeared on Jason’s face, and he dropped to Michael’s body. Roy watched as Jason examined the knife in Michael’s chest, and he looked up, figuring out what had happened. Jason looked at Roy, at the washcloth still stuck in his mouth. Roy wasn’t sure if Jason was sad, angry, or both. He was afraid Jason might do something drastic.

  Instead, Jason knelt by Michael’s body and began talking. “I’ll take you there,” Jason said, “like you wanted, to The Throat. I’ll do it.” Jason slowly picked Michael up, the knife still embedded in his chest. Blood came from the wound, but the knife was blocking most of the blood from escaping. With Michael in his arms, he opened the door to the motel room and carried him out. After a few moments, Roy heard the sound of Michael’s Mercedes coming to life, and then the sound of the car leaving the motel parking lot.

  Roy returned to St. Thomas and the others.

  Jason took Michael, he thought to the others. He drove off with him. He said he was taking him somewhere. To the throat.

  Emmett said something about a throat, too, Steven thought. What does it mean?

  Devil’s Throat, Deem thought. It’s a cave system near here.

  Do you know it very well? Steven asked.

  Some of it, Deem said. Not my favorite place to be.

  Snakes? Roy thought.

  No, Deem thought. It’s a place that likes death. I think the reason Emmett said he wanted to bleed us there was to feed a creature that lives in the stone of that cave. It might be where they’ve been taking the tourists and the others who go missing.

  It’s gone, Roy thought, pointing to Winn’s brand. See if you can end your trance.

  If I can, Winn thought, you all be ready to leave the second your brands fade. I’ll wait at the motel for you.

  Winn closed his eyes, and in a matter of seconds he faded and was gone.

  It worked, Deem thought. That’s a relief. Now he can keep an eye on our bodies until we can go back. Not that I relish the idea of Winn being left alone with my body, mind you.

  They’ve got to be figuring out that Michael isn’t coming, Roy thought. This is going to be close.

  Steven looked at his brand. It still had a faint glow. Deem, when we get back, we’ll need to go to Devil’s Throat. I have to find Jason.

  He betrayed you, Deem thought. He betrayed all of us.

  He’s still my son, Steven thought. I can’t just leave him. Will you take us there?

  Deem looked at Roy, and he seemed to nod in agreement with Steven. Alright, she thought. I’ll take you there.

  They all returned to watching their brands.

  ◊

  Steven saw Deem fade and disappear from the basement cell. He checked his own brand – it was still glowing.

  How did she…? Steven wondered.

  Winn, Roy thought. He must have found a way to bring her back, something more powerful than the brand.

  Either one of us might be next, Steven thought.

  I hope he doesn’t try it on me, Roy thought.

  Why not? Steven thought. The sooner we get out of here the better!

  Because I’m split-trancing, Roy thought. And I can’t end just one of the trances, I have to end them both at the same time. If he pulls me back it’ll fuck me up. If he pulls you back first, tell him not to do it to me.

  They heard the sound of footsteps overhead. They must be coming to take us out, Steven thought, but before he could communicate anything more to Roy he found himself back in the motel room, with Winn on one side and Deem on the other.

  “Welcome back!” Winn said, removing the matchbox from his wrist. He held it up for Steven to see. “Tracks and brings back!”

  “You can’t do it to Roy,” Steven said.

  “Why not?” Winn asked.

  “He’s split-trancing,” Steven said. “He said it would fuck him up if you do. And just as you pulled me back, I heard footsteps overhead. They might have been coming back to take us out, to re-brand us.”

  “Shit,” Winn said. “I think we should try it anyway. If they re-brand him, we may never get him back.”

  “The brands were almost gone,” Steven said. “A couple of minutes more and he’d be able to come back on his own.”

  They heard Roy moan.

  “He’s watching and listening to us!” Deem said.

  Roy raised an arm and moved his hand as though he was holding a pen.

  “He wants to write something,” Steven said. “Anyone got a pen? Pencil? Anything?”

  Deem went to her backpack and rummaged through it. She found a black marker and took it to Roy.

  “Here,” Winn said, handing Steven a piece of notepaper he’d found next to the telephone.

  Steven uncapped the marker and placed it in Roy’s hands, then he held the paper under the marker for Roy to write.

  Roy scratched at the paper for a moment.

  “He wrote ‘wait’,” Steven said to Winn and Deem. He turned back to Roy. “We’ll wait, Dad.”

  Steven sat next to Roy, trying to be patient. Winn walked back into the adjoining room and began packing up some of his items. He returned with his backpack.

  “Do you think they’ll come after us?” Deem asked.

  “Don’t know,” Winn said. “They’ve got Jason, that’s what they wanted most. And they can get more blood by nabbing tourists. But I expect they’re pissed at me.”

  Roy’s eyes began to flutter.

  “Dad!” Steven called. “Dad! Can you hear me?”

  Roy opened his eyes and smiled. “That was close!” he said. “They had just realized I was the only one left. One of them had jumped
down into the cell with the branding iron and was coming at me. Two more seconds and I would have been trapped there.”

  “We should get out of here,” Winn said.

  “We’re going to Devil’s Throat,” Steven said. “Deem is going to take us.”

  “Enjoy,” Winn said. “I hate caves.”

  “Winn,” Deem said, “just come along. We need the manpower.”

  “This wasn’t the plan,” Winn said. “Jason was supposed to come with us and we’d be done, not this double-cross shit. I didn’t sign up for going into caves. I’m no good in them, you know that.”

  “We could use your help,” Roy said, getting off the bed and noticing that there was blood on his hands. He checked the bed. There was blood on the bedspread. He removed it, wadding it up. “We’ll have to take this, it’s stained,” he said. Then he checked the floor beside the bed. “Shit!” There was a small bloodstain in the carpet.

  “They’ll never figure out whose blood that is,” Winn said. “The motel might assume it was yours.”

  “Maybe,” Roy said.

  “Listen, all of you,” Steven said. “I need your help. We’re not done. The next step is getting Jason, but I know that might not happen. He might not come with me. But whether or not he will come, I’m taking this place down.”

  “What, the motel?” Winn asked.

  “No,” Steven said. “St. Thomas. I’m going to destroy it so it can’t keep producing people like Michael. I’m going to empty it of ghosts and Callers. And I could use your help.”

  Winn looked at Deem. Deem looked at Roy.

  “I think he means it,” Roy said.

  “That’s a tall order,” Winn said. “I don’t know how you’d go about it. I don’t know how you’d even start going about it.”

  “We made the mistake of leaving Michael out there,” Steven said. “We didn’t know how to take him out, either, but we should have put in the effort and figured it out. Same here. As long as St. Thomas is still alive and crawling with those Callers, there’ll be more Michaels. I can’t have that. I’ll be the last father that’s lost a son to them.”