by Tom Mohan
For a moment, Sara could only stand there as her mind fought to make sense of what Kyle was telling her. “Why would I ever try to hurt Master Casius?”
Kyle shrugged. “Who knows? He’s probably the most learned of anyone in the Keep. Maybe you tried to get him to do something for you and he refused. Anyway, you said yourself that the door was locked from inside, and there was no evidence of anyone else in here but you.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about what was and wasn’t found.”
Kyle’s smug smile spoke volumes. “I’m not without influence in the Keep. People tell me things.”
Sara shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm in a strong grip. “Don’t mess with me, Sara. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I don’t plan to just stand around and watch you throw your life away.”
Sara fought to pull her arm from his grasp, but he didn’t let her go. “What do you care about my life anyway?” she spat.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Kyle said. “You still don’t get it. I care about you. I really care.”
Sara stopped struggling long enough to look into his eyes. Could he be serious? She had no desire to delve deeper into the possibility. “Listen,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do, but right now we need to get out of here. Sam’s been dead a long time, but whoever killed him and attacked Master Casius might still be lurking around.”
“We can’t just leave him here.”
“Well, we can’t very well tell anyone we snuck in here and found him, now can we?” She paused. “How did you get in here, anyway?”
Kyle ignored her question as he bent over Sam’s body. “What’s this?”
“What?”
“There’s something in his hand.” Kyle pulled Sam’s arm from beneath him. “He’s really stiff. I can barely move his arm.” Sara watched as he struggled to remove something from the dead boy’s fingers. “Ah, there, got it.” He rose and stood beside her.
“What is it?”
Kyle waved a small ancient-looking scroll in front of her. She reached for it, but he pulled it away. “I don’t think so. Not yet anyway. How do I know you didn’t kill Sam over this?”
“Because I don’t even know what it is, so why would I kill anyone for it?” Sara was getting angry now. Being unable to take the time to mourn Sam’s death left her heartbroken, but right now she had to get out of there and find Dana and Ryan. “Fine, you hold on to it.” She started for the door before turning back. “You never did tell me how you got in here without being seen.”
Kyle smiled at her. “How do you think I got here? I followed you.”
“You were in the tunnel?” Sara had a hard time believing he had been in there with them, but it had been dark, and all of her concentration had been focused on what lay ahead, not behind. “If you were behind us, you must have seen where Dana went.”
“What do you mean, where Dana went? She came up with you, didn’t she?”
“You didn’t see her in the tunnel?”
“No, but I hung back pretty far. I probably would have missed the ladder if you hadn’t left that lantern at the bottom.”
Sara’s heart was pounding now. “Ryan went back to look for Dana. He had the only lantern with him.”
“Why would he leave the lantern at the bottom of the ladder and take off in the dark?”
“Something’s wrong here,” Sara said. “He wouldn’t have left it. And if he didn’t pass you—if neither of them did—that means they went the other way. Where were they going?”
Before Kyle had a chance to answer, a sound from below caused both of them to jump.
“What was that?” Sara whispered.
“I think it was a door.” Kyle held a finger to his lips, and then turned and disappeared out the door of the secret room. Sara followed him through the office and out into the library. It was lighter than it had been before, and she saw that the windows were a pale gray. Dawn already? Had it really been that long since they had entered the tunnel?
They made their way to the ornate oak railing that overlooked the second floor of the library. Nothing moved, but the sound of voices was unmistakable—distant but growing closer.
“Someone’s coming,” Sara hissed. She thought Kyle would turn back toward the shadows of the third floor, but, once again, he surprised her.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hold you here for them.”
“What? We don’t have time for this.” She turned to go, but he grabbed her arm.
“I’m serious. You’ve been acting really weird lately, even before all this with your parents started up. For all I know, you’re a dangerous psychopath. Maybe you even killed Ryan and Dana.”
Sara struggled to pull away as the voices grew louder.
“If I let you go, you have to let me in on whatever it is you plan to do. Ryan can’t protect you like I can.”
Sara dreaded Kyle’s involvement. He had never given her any reason to trust him, and she had a feeling that trust would prove very important in whatever she did next. “I don’t even know what’s going to happen. Right now, I just want to get out of here without getting caught.” The voices began ascending the stairs to the second floor. Still, he did not release her.
“What are you so afraid of? If you didn’t kill Sam, why are you so afraid of getting caught in here?”
Sara opened her mouth to answer, and then hesitated. She had no idea why she felt so afraid of getting caught. She had done nothing wrong. Still, the idea of going before the Holy Father and Bishop Joshua again filled her with dread.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sara spied movement on the floor below. Two Keep guards were casually passing through the rows of books, heading toward the stairs leading to the third floor. Sara turned pleading eyes to Kyle.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered, and then he pulled her away from the rail and back the way they had come. “You owe me. You owe me big.” He released her arm and led the way back to the closet that hid the trap door. “You go first,” he said, moving out of the way so she could get to the opening in the floor. “I’ll cover it best I can once I’m through.” Sara nodded and sat down at the edge of the trap door. When her feet found firm purchase on the ladder, she slipped into the darkness.
Moments later, Kyle joined her. The lantern remained where he said it was, flooding her with fear for her friends. She picked it up and was trying to decide which way to go when an ear-piercing shriek filled the tunnel.
“That didn’t sound human,” Kyle said.
No, it didn’t, Sara thought. Not human at all.
Burke groaned as something pulled him from sleep. His fogged mind fought the call to wakefulness, rueful to leave the peaceful oblivion into which he had fallen. He pried open sticky, grainy eyes, forcing his awareness to seek out what had called it up. For a moment, he struggled to make out what he was hearing, but the sound slowly took form.
Engines—a lot of them.
Burke sat up fast, causing his weary head to spin. “What now?” he muttered to himself. He had no idea what time it was, but his tired mind and body told him his rest had been brief. Feeling sluggish and clumsy, he managed to pull his shoes on before stumbling out the cabin door. Martinez already stood there, gazing toward the southwest. The big man had claimed sleep would be impossible and had chosen to take the first watch. Burke had been too exhausted to argue and had little memory of falling onto the cot.
Burke turned to where Martinez gazed and saw a halo of light announcing the approach of a vehicle around the curve in the road. He descended the two short steps to stand beside the big man, who seemed relaxed despite his grip on his pistol. Neither man wasted breath trying to guess what was going to happen next. They would know soon enough.
Within moments, the bright glare of headlights and the rumble of powerful engines rounded the curve.
“Fight or flight?” Burke asked.
; “Too tired to run and no time to hide.” Martinez took a deep breath. “I’m standing right here.”
Burke nodded in agreement.
The two men stood their ground as a pack of motorcycles roared into the abandoned campground. The gang circled Burke and Martinez, revving their motors. Burke fought the urge to make a break for the trees. He shot off a quick prayer to the God who still felt like a stranger. We can’t take much more of this. A little help would be nice.
Nothing changed.
Burke found himself glad for the rain that had fallen in the morning. Without it, the dust stirred up by the mass of turning tires would have choked them. The exhaust was bad enough. Finally, one of the men held up a fist, and the bikers fell into a rough circle around Burke and Martinez. Once in place, they all revved their engines. And then, on some silent cue, they shut down their bikes simultaneously. Just like that, the night stilled. Only the soft ticking of cooling engines could be heard. Finally, the man who had raised his fist climbed off his bike. He was huge, easily as tall and wide as Martinez, but with a gut that protruded well out over the toes of his massive boots. The biker eyed the two men, dismissed Burke, and stood almost nose-to-nose with Martinez. If the man noticed the gun in Martinez’s hand, he showed no concern.
“I smell pig,” the biker said. His gravelly voice filtered through the thick brown beard that merged with his ratty hair.
Martinez held the man’s stare. “No one says pig anymore.”
The biker flexed his massive shoulders and inhaled. “Yep, pig for sure.”
Martinez didn’t so much as blink. “What makes you think so?”
The biker’s mustache blew out as he nearly spit his next words. “Pig gun. Pig haircut.”
Martinez’s lips twitched in a near smile. “Pig haircut?”
It was impossible to tell what the biker’s face was doing beneath all the hair. Burke could only stand there, feeling small beside the two behemoths that glared at each other in a battle of wills.
“Why don’t you just drop the gun before someone gets hurt. If you’re armed, little man, I suggest you drop yours as well.”
Burke had forgotten about his own gun, which he had tucked into the back of his pants before coming out of the cabin. He watched as Martinez stared at the man a moment more, and then he heard his friend’s gun hit the ground. Knowing they would never win a battle against this many people, he reached back, pulled out his own weapon, and dropped it to the ground as well. A light scurrying sound from behind told him the gang had collected the two pistols.
“We’re just tourists,” Martinez said, keeping his voice light. “Needed a weekend away from the city.”
“Got what looks like a couple of fresh graves here, Tiny,” one of the bikers said to the leader.
“Tiny?” Martinez asked. Burke hoped his friend wasn’t trying to push the guy. Mourning or not, he didn’t want Martinez doing anything stupid.
The biker’s eyes hardened. “Yeah. Tiny. Too cliché for you? Sound stupid to you? My mamma called me that, God rest her soul.” He moved his face even closer to Martinez’s. “You got a problem with my momma, pig?”
Martinez shook his head. “No sir. No problem.”
The huge biker glared at Martinez and grunted. “Dig ‘em up.”
“No,” Martinez said. “Don’t.” While the battle of wills had not ended, Martinez did allow his eyes to drop some.
“Oh, and why should I listen to you, pig?”
“One of them is my wife.”
“The other?”
Martinez shrugged. “Cop, but we didn’t kill him. Someone else did that.”
“You kill your wife?” The sudden look on Martinez’s face answered his question. “No, I guess not. Josiah, get over here.” A short bald man approached them, looking much like a dwarf beside his leader. The newcomer had a confident, relaxed air to him, but his over-large head and clean-shaven face clashed with the classic biker image.
“Yeah, boss?”
Tiny’s eyes never left Martinez. “Your voice telling you anything?”
“Pigs, boss,” Josiah replied. He pointed at Martinez. “This one for sure. The other…” He held his hand up and rocked it back and forth, indicating Burke. “This one’s different.”
“Different how?”
“Man on a mission, boss. Man on a mission.” Josiah looked up into Burke’s eyes. He seemed to be looking inside of him—the way Katrina had. It unsettled Burke.
“Whose side?” Tiny asked.
Again the smaller man looked hard at Burke. “Interesting. I don’t think he even knows whose side he’s on.” Burke noticed a slight lilt in the man’s speech—Scottish or Irish, maybe. He wondered what the man was doing out here in the middle of nowhere.
“Time to powwow,” Tiny said before turning and stomping away.
POWWOW THEY DID, until well into the night, while Burke and Martinez waited, locked inside one of the cabins. As they were shoved through the door, Burke had noticed the words on the backs of the gang’s leather jackets—Lord’s Rebels. He wasn’t sure if that name boded good or bad. Probably bad, he reflected. They sat in the cabin alone for the better part of the day. Martinez was silent. Once, Burke thought he heard the man sobbing, but he left him to himself, not wanting to interfere with his mourning. Finally, the door opened, and two of the bikers gestured for them to come out.
“Tiny’s ready for you.”
A large bonfire had been built near the lake, and most of the gang gathered there. Burke tried to count their numbers as he and Martinez were led into the mass of leather-clad people. There were twelve men and women wearing the Lord’s Rebels colors, and he suspected at least a couple more were watching the perimeter of the camp. The rural areas were dangerous, and Burke doubted the Lord’s Rebels were the only gang around.
Burke and Martinez approached the fire and saw that five of the gang members sat around it on logs. Tiny and Josiah were among the group, which included two other men and one woman. The woman gave them a dark stare. Tiny motioned for them to sit on one of the logs. He gazed into the fire as though gleaning answers to all his questions.
“Jesus had an inner circle. Did you know that?” the gang leader asked. Burke didn’t know if they were expected to answer or not, so he followed Martinez’s lead and remained silent. “Jesus had twelve apostles, but he had three he really trusted.” Tiny sat up straight and spread his arms wide. “I have four. I trust them with my life, and they trust me with theirs. Tell me, do you trust each other with your lives?”
Burke and Martinez looked at one another. That’s a good question, Burke thought. He guessed Martinez was probably thinking the same thing. Burke sighed and turned to the gang leader. “We really don’t know each other that well, but I would say I trust Dave with my life. Have already, for that matter.”
Tiny raised one shaggy eyebrow and looked at Martinez. “And you?”
Martinez shrugged his massive shoulders. “Like he said, we don’t know each other all that well.”
The curt answer stung. Burke had hoped to have gained the trust of his companion, but looking back, he knew he had been the cause of too much pain. He wouldn’t be surprised if Martinez abandoned him at the first opportunity. Burke slumped on the log. Never had he been so tired, nor felt so alone.
“My friend Josiah here says you’re special.” Tiny nodded to Burke. “What’s your name?”
Burke saw no reason to hide it. “John Burke.”
“You don’t look like much, John Burke. But then, neither does Josiah, does he?” Burke saw the small bald man break into a huge grin. Tiny leaned his elbows onto his thighs and clasped his hands together in front of him. The firelight caused red-orange flecks to dance in his eyes. “They say Jesus didn’t look like much,” Tiny continued, “that he was an ordinary-looking man. But he was far from ordinary, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Martinez said. “Jesus was far from ordinary.”
Here we go, Burke thought. This nut case is going to s
tart boasting about being the next coming of Jesus.
“I will never be close to being Jesus,” Tiny said, still staring into the fire, “but I will do my best with what he has given me. Jesus taught mercy for one’s enemies, and I will admit, I find that hard. My enemies have shown no mercy to me or mine. You know who my enemies are, gentlemen?”
Burke had a good guess, but kept it to himself.
“Pigs are my enemies.”
The gang leader pointed a sausage-sized finger at Martinez. “You, my big friend, are a pig, aren’t you?”
Martinez nodded. “I was. Not anymore.”
“That’s what she said.”
Burke jerked up. “What who said?”
Josiah smiled. “Why, your little friend. Cute little bugger, she is.”
“You can see her? You can see Red?”
Tiny’s laugh sounded genuine, as did Josiah’s. “Only Josiah can see her, and I was skeptical of that.”
“So was she,” Josiah said. “I surprised her, I did. Who is she, then?”
“I don’t know. I just know my life has been a complete disaster since she showed up.”
“Has it now?” Josiah asked, the firelight twinkling in his eyes. “And your life was all peachy before that, was it?” The little man’s smile said he already knew the answer.
Burke let it go. There really was no right answer.
The Serpent found himself lying on his back, staring up at the few stars that could be seen through the dense canopy of trees. Though he had been knocked senseless, he did not revive slowly, dazed and confused, as a normal human would. His eyes snapped open and his heightened senses brought instant awareness to his mind. It was night. The dogs had vanished back to wherever they had come from in answer to his call. And others had arrived. He inhaled, sucking in the scent of unwashed bodies—many of them. He also distinguished the smell of beer, both stale and fresh. Ah yes, the sounds and smells of revelry told him that the party had begun while he’d napped.
Now that wasn’t polite. Not polite at all.
The Serpent sat up, feeling no stiffness or soreness in his limbs. Seeing his proximity to the edge of the trees, he wondered at how he had not been discovered by the men or eaten by the dogs. He shrugged it off as another perk of following Lord Denizen.