Eve of Redemption

by Tom Mohan

  “What?” Burke asked, but Martinez held out a hand, silencing him. For a moment, all was quiet. Then, another muffled sound came from somewhere in the darkness, and this time Martinez felt certain it was a footstep. He glanced at Burke. Muted moonlight illuminated the window behind him, casting him in shadow. Martinez held up his left hand to indicate Burke should remain where he was, while pulling the gun from his shoulder holster with his right. The door leading to the kitchen was little more than a black hole, but he thought he detected movement. He kept the pistol aimed at the doorway as he slipped across the room to get a better angle. Another shuffling step issued from the darkness, accompanied by shadowy movement.

  Martinez took a couple more steps toward the center of the living room, putting Burke behind and to the right of him. The cuffed man could easily get to the front door, maybe even get the door open, but his primary concern at the moment was the figure lurking in the kitchen. The shadowy form moved clumsily, as though struggling to find his way in the dark. Could he be injured? Martinez wondered if Burke brought more than one of the kids to the house.

  “Police! Come on out here where I can see you!” Martinez’s voice was loud in the confines of the quiet house. He was not one to scare easily, but something gave him the creeps. From the moment he arrived at Burke’s, nothing had felt right.

  He tensed as a light appeared across the room. A flashlight lay on the floor, pointing into a corner. The light shone under an end table by the couch, casting an eerie glow over the room. Martinez assumed the light was Burke’s. He pressed the button on his own light a few times, but it was still dead. Keeping the gun and one eye on the kitchen door, Martinez moved across the room and picked up the working light. He cast the beam toward the kitchen door, but from his new vantage point he couldn’t see into the depths of the room.

  “Get out here, and keep your hands where I can see them,” Martinez said. He felt more confident now that he had the light. Moving smoothly, he crossed the room and aimed the beam of light into the darkness enshrouding the next room. He cried out and jumped back as the light revealed a doorway into madness.

  The headless body that had been stuffed in the washer shambled toward him, as though drawn by the light that it should not have been able to see. It held one hand out before it, the fingers opening and closing. Martinez’s stomach turned at the gruesome sight. The body took another uncoordinated step, like a marionette on strings. The corpse’s other hand rose, holding a long serrated carving knife.

  “Stay where you are,” Martinez said, his voice no longer steady. He knew what he was seeing was impossible. It had to be some kind of trick. Maybe someone really was trying to drive John Burke crazy. “Take one more step, and I swear I’ll shoot.” He took another step back, hand shaking as he gripped his weapon more tightly. The corpse matched his step. It was now in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. Another step and it would be in the room with him. “Stop right there, you hear?” Martinez almost cracked up at his own statement. Of course it couldn’t hear. It had no ears. Martinez knew fear was beginning to get the better of him. A bead of sweat slid down his back. The thing clomped into the room.

  Martinez fired.

  The sound of the gun was deafening in the small room. The headless corpse lurched back, fighting for balance. For a moment, Martinez was sure it was going down. But then it staggered forward again. He fired two more rounds, both opening holes in the thing’s shirt. Again, it staggered. Still it came. The room grew cold. The sweat that had coated his body moments before now chilled him to the bone. He knew the sudden drop in temperature was anything but natural. Steam from his breath misted before the light. The smell of the fired powder filled the room, mixing with the undeniable scent of death. Martinez felt a terror he’d never thought possible. His heart pounded and his hands shook as he took aim once more.

  “What in God’s name are you?” Martinez muttered as he unloaded the rest of the clip into the headless body. This time it stumbled back against the wall, but it still did not go down. In mere seconds, it was moving again, quicker this time, as though angered by the bullets tearing through it. Before Martinez could react, it lurched forward and slammed into his body.

  The kid had been fairly tall in life, but without a head stood significantly shorter than Martinez’s six feet five inches. The big cop found himself looking down upon the exposed neck where the kid’s head should have been. The horror of the whole thing distracted him so much he almost missed the knife hurtling straight for his chest. Reacting without thought, he blocked the corpse’s arm with his own, the knife less than an inch from his chest. The animated corpse was much stronger than the kid could have ever been in life. It took everything Martinez had to keep the knife at bay. He used his other hand, still clenching the empty gun, to push against the corpse’s chest. For the next several moments, the two danced around the center of the room, Martinez’s incredible physical strength just barely matching the unnatural power of the dead body. He felt the back of his legs hit the coffee table and nearly went down. As the corpse bore downward, straining to plunge its knife into Martinez’s chest, Martinez used the downward leverage to spin away from the table and keep the thing off-balance.

  The cold radiating from the corpse seeped into Martinez’s muscles, making him feel slow, almost numb. Fear flooded his senses as he fought for his life. He still held the flashlight in his left hand and the gun in his right, but he knew he would have to drop one of them and take a physical hold on this nightmare if he was to have any chance of subduing it. He hated to lose the light, and though the gun was temporarily useless, another clip sat in the holster strap. On the other hand, bullets had not done him much good. Finally, he let the gun fall to the floor and used his free right hand to grab the knife arm of his attacker. He held its right forearm with his own right hand, while slipping his left arm under and around in an attempt to twist the knife free.

  The corpse let loose a burst of strength and heaved Martinez against a wall. Bright stars flashed across his vision as his head bounced off a door frame. He managed to maintain his grip, but he knew his strength would not hold out much longer. He gasped as ice-cold fingers clamped around his throat. The kid’s hand was not very big, especially compared to his own massive neck, but the strong fingers dug in around his windpipe, trying to tear it out. The pain was excruciating and Martinez renewed his efforts to break free. He managed to get two fingers wrapped around the corpse’s thumb, but pulling on it only allowed the fingers to dig in deeper on the other side of his throat. He was gagging now and began to feel lightheaded. Unless he ended this in the next few seconds, he knew he was a goner.

  Desperate for air, Martinez managed to get one foot up between him and the corpse. With every bit of energy he could muster, he kicked the thing away. Pain flashed from his neck—the fingers that had been locked on so tight took some of his skin as they tore free. It crashed against the far wall, bounced off, and stumbled toward him once more.

  God, what do I have to do?

  To his surprise, the corpse dropped to the floor as though invisible puppet strings had been severed. In one practiced movement, Martinez scooped his gun from the floor and popped in a new clip. With trembling hands he pointed the gun at the headless body, but it showed no sign of movement. The cold was dissipating, slipping away like a ghost, leaving Martinez the distinct impression something was leaving. He gasped fresh air into his aching windpipe as he stumbled away from the lifeless corpse. His eyes darted around the room in search of any other nightmare, but the house remained quiet.

  “You all right, John?” he rasped. Only silence answered. Martinez spun around and shined the light on the chair the other man had been sitting in. It was empty, and the front door was open.

  John Burke was gone.

  Martinez heard a car door slam somewhere outside. His eyes scanned the neighborhood as he stumbled out the door. A car engine sputtered to life around the corner, and he hopped down the two steps to the sidewalk.
A car pulled away from the curb on the next block and sped off. Martinez dashed to his own car. Flinging open the driver’s door, he slid behind the wheel and shoved the key into the ignition.

  The squeal of tires filled the night air as Martinez sped after the other car. Could Burke have escaped the handcuffs? No—instinct told him a second person was involved. Burke had been in no condition to escape, or even drive. He grabbed the radio to call for backup, but it was completely dead. Not even the hiss of static sounded from the speaker. What was going on tonight?

  Martinez sped through the dark, deserted streets, keeping the far-off taillights just within sight. Two blocks ahead, the car made a sharp left turn and disappeared from view. Martinez accelerated as fast as he dared and slid around the corner at the intersection. The street was deserted. He slammed one meaty hand against the steering wheel in frustration. He eyed the vehicles parked on the side of the street, but he hadn’t gotten enough of a look at the car to know what he was looking for. It could be any of these cars, or none of them.

  Martinez slammed the wheel again. He had lost them.

  Burke’s head throbbed as he slid across the backseat of the car. His dazed mind struggled to grasp what was happening. He had been in the living room of his house with Officer Martinez. That much he remembered clearly. Then something had happened. Someone else had been there, in the kitchen. He remembered the flashlight coming on, the cop picking it up and shining it toward whoever hid in the darkness. Then Martinez had moved in front of him, his massive body blocking Burke’s line of sight. There had been movement beside him, the front door opening, and a blinding flash of pain. The next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the back of a car.

  Burke rolled across the backseat as the car took a hard turn. His wrists were still locked in the handcuffs, keeping him from using his hands to brace himself. “Who’s up there?” His words slurred, and his tongue felt too big for his mouth.

  “Well, hello there, Mr. Burke. Glad to have you back with me. Hope I didn’t hit you too hard back there.” The female voice had a strong southern drawl to it. “Might want to put on your seat belt. The ride’s probably gonna be kind of rough.” The driver laughed as though she found this funny. Burke thought the seat belt would be a great idea if his hands weren’t locked behind his back. As it was, he slouched in the seat and braced his feet against the floor with his knees against the back of the seat in front of him. “You looked like you were having a hard time back there at the house. Thought I’d help a friend out.”

  “Who are you? Where’re you taking me?” The injuries to his head, along with the less than smooth motion of the car, made him too nauseated to say more.

  “Oh, sorry. Guess I forgot to introduce myself in all the excitement.” She half-turned and Burke saw the face of a girl who couldn’t have been any older than twenty-one. Short dark hair framed a pretty face that sported a couple of small tattoos. “I’m Kayla. You can probably tell from my accent I’m not from these parts. There’s big happenings in the world right now, Mr. Burke. Big happenings. And this here part of the country’s the place to be if you want to be a part of them. And believe you me, you are a part of them. You’re a very popular man, Mr. Burke. Just relax now. I’ve got no wish to harm you. Not like that guy back there. Trust me, you’re much better off with me.”

  Burke fought to control his growing nausea. “I don’t understand,” he managed to say. “I’m no one.” He felt the car slow to a more reasonable pace.

  “Oh, you’re someone, all right. Don’t look like much though, do you?” Kayla snickered. “Of course, they don’t tell me much, so I really couldn’t tell you why you’re so important. But orders are orders.”

  Finally, the car slowed, and then pulled to a halt. Though the early morning was still dark, Burke recognized their location. He had spent uncounted hours staring at this very building—Christ of God Church, the last know location of Laura and Sara. The church looked much the same as it had the night of the disappearances. Graffiti covered the once-white walls of old peeling paint. From his position in the backseat, Burke could look up through the rear windshield into the dark shadows of the steeple. If the bell was still there, it was hidden in darkness. It still amazed Burke that the building had, in an instant, gone from a friendly, well-kept church to this ruin when the disappearances occurred. Just another mystery that had never been solved and eventually faded from memory.

  “Well, here we are, Mr. Burke,” said Kayla. “We lost your cop friend a ways back, so don’t be expecting him to come along anytime soon.”

  Burke glanced out the back window of the car. She was right. If Martinez had been following, he was nowhere to be seen now. Kayla climbed out of the front seat and opened the back door. She leaned in, grabbed him by one arm, and jerked him from the car. The strength of her small frame surprised him.

  She must have noticed the startled look on his face. “Stronger than I look,” she said, smiling.

  She half dragged him a short distance before shoving him against a wall. “Just hang tight,” she said. Her eyes took in every detail of their surroundings. She seemed nervous, but not fearful.

  Burke considered yelling for help. He squashed the thought as quickly as it came. No one would come outside this time of night to help a stranger. Probably wouldn’t do it for a friend, either. He heard what sounded like nails being pulled and looked to see Kayla using her bare fingers to force open a door that had been nailed shut. Again, he was grabbed by the arm and dragged into the building. He tripped over the threshold and the girl let go, allowing him to crash to the floor. Unable to use his hands to break his fall, he landed hard on his left shoulder. He gasped as the fall knocked the wind from his bruised body. The door slammed shut behind him.

  “Come on, come on,” Kayla said. Burke detected an urgency in her voice that had not been there earlier. She grasped his wrist and pulled him across the room.

  Burke stumbled along as he was dragged across the bare wood floor, his awkward steps echoing in the large empty room. He was all but blind in the darkness and wondered how Kayla could see where she was going. She seemed in a much bigger hurry now, as though time were running out.

  The door behind them squealed open, and Kayla let loose a string of curses. Burke managed to turn just enough to see the shadowy form of another person step from the dim light outside into the blackness of the church. Kayla released his arm, and he stumbled before letting himself crumple to the floor.

  “Well now, what have we here?” asked a man’s voice as the door once again slammed shut. Burke thought the voice sounded familiar, like something from the distant past or maybe a dream.

  “This is none of your business,” Kayla said. Her voice betrayed her nervousness.

  “Oh, I disagree,” said the newcomer. “You interrupted my fun and took what I consider to be mine, namely Mr. Burke here. Unless you’re going to kill that piece of garbage for me, it is very much my business.”

  Burke heard footsteps as the new arrival moved closer. He wished he could see in the dark like they appeared to be able to.

  “You really shouldn’t have interfered. That was a very bad idea.”

  “I ain’t afraid of you,” Kayla said, though the tremor in her voice told a different story. “My master wants him alive, and I plan to deliver him that way.”

  The man laughed. Either he felt much more confident in himself than Kayla did, or he played it off better. Burke hoped the latter. He had no idea what was going on, but if Kayla wanted him alive, he was rooting for her. He used his feet to slide across the floor, putting as much distance between himself and the other two as possible. A fight was about to break out and, in his current condition, he wanted to get out of the way.

  “I’d advise you to leave,” the man said. “Just go away, and you might survive to see another day.”

  Kayla chuckled, but it sounded different—like her, but not her. “That’s not happening, Denizen. That skin you walk around in may be able to take the one I’
m wearing, but this close to the portal we don’t have to rely on puny human power, now do we?” Burke detected a change in Kayla’s tone as she spoke. The voice was the same—but, at the same time, not the same. Again, he wished he could see what was happening. He also wished he knew what they were talking about.

  Burke heard a loud hiss, and a red light flashed so bright it lit the room like a flare, forcing him to slam his eyes shut. Then came a thump that Burke felt as much as he heard. The concussion moved his body a couple inches across the floor.

  “So, that’s the way you want to play, eh?” said the man Kayla had called Denizen. “I can play that game, too.”

  Burke huddled in a corner, feeling like a fly caught in a nightmarish web.

  THE SERPENT GAVE over control of his body to Lord Denizen as soon as the girl’s intent became clear. She was a fool, of that he had no doubt. But, apparently, her master shared her idiocy. Her master could never defeat Lord Denizen. He wanted to laugh at the foolishness of it all. He probably would have if Denizen had not been so angry. The Serpent was able to separate himself and his emotions from those of his master most of the time. But when Lord Denizen was in a rage, the Serpent just went along for the ride. And what a ride it was.

  This girl was not the first of her kind they had run across since Lord Denizen had come into his life, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. Others followed their own god-like masters as he followed Lord Denizen. However, the Serpent knew that his master would be the last she would ever encounter.

  The Serpent had watched almost calmly as the fireball his opponent launched flew at his face. The human part of him wanted to flinch, to dive for cover, but Lord Denizen had taught him to master such weakness. The girl’s face radiated frustration as her fireball exploded around her intended victim but caused no injury.