Empty Is the Grave

by Candle Sutton

  “Thank you, my sister. I love you.”

  A fresh wave of nausea assaulted her. She pushed through it. “I love you, too.”

  As the call ended, she rushed to the toilet, dropping to her knees in front of it. Once the heaving stopped, she sat back, resting her spine against the wall behind her and tilting her face toward heaven.

  Foreboding shrouded her. This wouldn’t end well. She could sense it.

  But what did that mean?

  As fear threatened to overwhelm her, she turned to the only One who could bring any measure of peace.

  “Loving Father.” Her whisper echoed in the silent room. “Please cover Josiah and strengthen him for the battle ahead…”

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Zeke clicked save, then closed the file. Translating this contract had been intense, but he was finally done.

  Now all he had to do was send it back.

  His phone rang and he reached for it.

  Josiah?

  He didn’t think Josiah had ever called him. Ever.

  In fact, the only reason Josiah even had a phone was because Hope Behind Bars had insisted that they needed a way to reach him.

  “Hey. Everything okay?”

  “Ah, my brother.” Josiah’s chuckle drifted through the phone. “You know me too well.”

  At least he sounded okay. Zeke waited, knowing Josiah would continue.

  “The Father is calling me into battle.”

  The weight of the words settled over Zeke.

  Battles drained Josiah in a way nothing else could. The last time the Father had sent Josiah into battle, Josiah had come home and slept for almost twenty-four straight hours.

  “How can I pray?” As much as he wanted to help, he knew he wasn’t meant to get involved. The call, the burden, was Josiah’s.

  “Protection. I believe there are many souls involved in this one.”

  Even though he couldn’t see him, he could feel Josiah’s hesitation.

  “This one will be difficult.” Josiah’s words contained an uncharacteristic soberness. “There has been much activity in the spiritual plain. A lot of darkness. And today, a warrior visited me.”

  Zeke sat up straighter.

  An angelic visit? This was big, bigger than anything they’d dealt with before.

  “When do you leave?”

  “Now.” Steel lined Josiah’s word. “I needed to get prayer support first.”

  “You’ve got it.” He would pray, and fast, until the battle was over. If it took days, so be it. “May God grant you strength and victory.”

  “God always has the victory.”

  Zeke sat holding the phone for several minutes after ending the call, his mind already filling with prayers. He paused only long enough to email off the completed contract, then dropped to his knees in the square of sunlight spilling in the window.

  Josiah might be the one physically fighting the battle, but Zeke would fight from his knees.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Josiah deposited the phone on the table, grabbed a nylon knapsack from the cubby beneath a bench, and exited the main cabin.

  The heavenly warrior stood nearby. As Josiah met his gaze, the warrior gave a solemn nod.

  He’d secured the prayer coverage they’d so desperately need. It was time.

  Josiah pulled off his flip-flops, dropped them into the nylon knapsack, and dove cleanly into the water.

  Alcatraz was less than two miles away, a distance he could cover in no time at all.

  Then he would fight. What that would look like, he wasn’t sure, but with the Holy Spirit inside him and the Father’s warriors surrounding him, he was ready.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Getting closer.

  Rafe assessed the distance between where he stood and where Rush kept watch.

  Even with his back turned, he could feel Cortez’s surveillance.

  What would they do if he dropped everything and ran to Rush?

  Probably taze him. Maybe shoot him.

  He could certainly see where it might look like an escape attempt or an attack.

  Maybe he should tell Cortez.

  He turned to look at the corrections officer.

  Seriously. Why was he having such a hard time trusting the guy, anyway?

  The man was a guard. He’d been screened–

  What was that?

  Behind Cortez, an African American dude with a big black afro approached. Skinny jeans and a black t-shirt accentuated his narrow build.

  The guy looked young. Teens, maybe.

  What were the chances he was connected to the girl in the bushes? He had to be. The odds of two unconnected teens being stranded on the island at the same time were crazy low.

  The question was, was she with him? Or hiding from him?

  He was coming from the direction where she’d been hiding, so maybe she was with him.

  Or maybe he’d been looking for her and come up empty.

  Either way, approaching a group of inmates on a work detail, with guards standing watch, was a bad idea.

  Especially if it looked like he was sneaking up on them.

  Rafe nodded at the man. “Hey, Cortez.”

  Cortez’s eyes narrowed, as if he suspected Rafe was trying to pull something.

  Rafe nodded again, more forcefully this time, and Cortez finally turned.

  “Hey! Hold it right there!” Cortez’s gun cleared the holster before Rafe could blink.

  The kid froze.

  Probably scared out of his mind, with Cortez pointing that gun at him.

  “I-I gotta t-t-tell you some–”

  “Don’t move!” Cortez’s voice overrode whatever the kid was trying to say.

  Movement to his left drew Rafe’s attention.

  Rush.

  This might be his only chance! Horrible timing, but he had to try. “Rush, man…”

  Rush held up a hand and kept on moving.

  Okay. Maybe when Rush came back.

  Cortez continued to keep his gun trained on the kid, while Rush approached and spoke in tones too low for Rafe to hear. The kid gestured frantically, pointing at something beyond their group.

  Turning, Rafe tried to follow the kid’s shaking finger.

  Only thing he could see was the prison. Not something to get so worked up about. Was it?

  The rest of the inmates had stopped working and were watching the exchange too, while the guards warily kept an eye on both the inmates and the surrounding area.

  Yeah, if someone were to plan an escape attempt, this would be a pretty good distraction.

  A few more minutes passed before Rush nodded at the kid and turned away.

  After a brief pause to speak with Cortez, Rush headed his direction. With his lips pressed in a firm line and his shoulders squared, Rush looked grim.

  Probably not as grim as he’d look once Rafe told him there was a teenage girl hiding on the island, too.

  “Rush. Yo, I gotta tell you somethin’, homes.”

  Rush paused. “Not a good time, Garcia.”

  Good time or not, Rush needed to know what he’d seen. “There’s a chick on the island.”

  An abrupt stop indicated Rafe’s words had hit home. “What?”

  “I saw a girl. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. Hidin’ in some bushes. She looked scared.”

  A breath exploded from Rush’s lips. “I’ve got bigger problems.”

  Bigger problems? Than two kids trapped on an island with a bunch of cons?

  Rush moved past him to the center of the group. “Listen up. We’re taking a little break. Everyone come in.”

  Moving as one, they all followed Rush’s instructions.

  Tension lingered in the air as heavily as the sea breeze.

  When they’d all moved closer, Rush’s eyes drifted across each man. “Everyone go ahead and have a seat.”

  Rafe eased to the packed soil. The ground was hard beneath his tailbone. He peaked his knees and rested his forearms across the tops.

  Ru
sh’s gaze traveled from one guard to the next until he’d encompassed them all. It seemed to convey some silent communication that only they understood. A few seconds passed before Rush returned his attention to the inmates. “I need to see to something. Everyone stay put. If you try to stand or move, you will be cuffed, returned to the boat, and all future work privileges will be revoked. Am I understood?”

  The inmates nodded. A few mumbled “yeah”s drifted through the group.

  Rush clapped a hand on the shoulder of Underwood, one of the guards. “You’re with me.”

  Hmmm. Rush hadn’t chosen Cortez, even though Cortez had been the one closest to the kid.

  Maybe Rush didn’t trust Cortez either.

  Raising a hand, Rush gestured for the kid to join him. The three of them skirted around the prisoners, headed toward the prison, and disappeared from sight.

  Rush hadn’t looked happy.

  Who was that kid? And what the heck was going on?

  It didn’t feel right. In fact, it felt like trouble.

  Six

  Rush followed the kid down one side of the long-abandoned cellblock. If the kid’s trembling was any indication, the boy was scared out of his mind.

  “What’d you say you were doing on the island?”

  The kid hadn’t said. That was the problem.

  There was no logical reason a teenager – anyone outside the Park Service, Coast Guard, or law enforcement, for that matter – should be on Alcatraz Island at night or early in the morning. Something about the whole story was off.

  And he hadn’t even heard the whole story.

  He fell into step beside the kid, his gaze moving between the boy beside him and the rocky landscape around him.

  The kid exhaled. “I, uh, came with some friends to, uh…”

  “Look.” Rush placed his hand on the kid’s bony shoulder and turned the kid to face him. “Unless you killed those guys, I don’t really care what you were doing here. I’m only concerned about the safety of my guards and the inmates.”

  The kid swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a seagull on the waves. “Viktor brought us here. Wanted to make a statement.”

  A statement. With dead bodies? “What kind of statement?”

  “‘Bout immigration. We were gonna paint the island.”

  Paint? “With blood and dead bodies?”

  The kid shook his head violently. “Nah, man. Art.”

  Art… “You’re a tagger.”

  The kid clenched his fists. “Artist.”

  Semantics. If there really were several dead bodies out here, how this kid defined his illegal activities was irrelevant.

  “I swear. If I’d known he wasn’t legit…”

  Rush gestured for the kid to lead on. “What’s your name?”

  “Switch.”

  Probably a street name. “And Switch is code for…”

  Switch’s eyes darted to him. A second passed in silence. “Andre Booth.”

  “I’m Darryl Rushworth, but everyone calls me Rush.” He paused. “How many were in your group?”

  “There were ‘bout a dozen of us, I guess.”

  The girl Rafe had mentioned was no doubt one of them. “You know where everyone is?”

  Switch hesitated. “Few of ‘em are dead. I’m guessin’ the rest left on the boat.”

  “And left you and that girl behind.”

  Switch’s mouth fell open. “How’d you…? Yeah, far as I know we’re the only two they left.”

  Except for the ones who’d been killed, anyway.

  They crested a small hill.

  Rush spotted the body before Switch even pointed it out.

  Sprawled facedown, one arm was twisted beneath the body while the other extended toward a gun resting in the dirt. Blood stained his back and congealed in a puddle around him.

  Even though he knew the truth, Rush knelt beside the body and felt his neck.

  No pulse. The skin hadn’t cooled much, yet the stiff limbs evidenced that rigor mortis had kicked in.

  This dude had been dead at least a few hours.

  Lined up with the story Switch had given them.

  He pulled his Glock from the holster.

  Now that he had solid proof the kid wasn’t making up stories, this day went from a simple work assignment to something potentially much more dangerous.

  Best to be prepared for anything.

  He looked at the gun on the ground.

  Pick up the gun or preserve the crime scene?

  With a group of convicts, even non-violent ones, on the island, neither option was great.

  Well, his men had the inmates covered. And after this, there was no way they weren’t heading back to the boat and getting off this island, so leaving the gun should be safe enough.

  Unless there were other potential shooters around.

  Forget the crime scene. He was more concerned with protecting the living than the evidence.

  He pulled out his phone, snapped some pictures, then picked the gun up by the barrel and stuffed it into one of the pockets on his cargo pants.

  Picking it up by the barrel should at least preserve any prints that might be on the grip.

  Hopefully he hadn’t destroyed any prints. Or contaminated the evidence too much with his own. If he’d had gloves and an evidence bag, he would’ve used them, but those weren’t exactly standard items for guards on a prison work detail.

  He turned to Switch. “You said there were more?”

  Switch had paled since the body came into view and looked like he might be sick. “Yeah.”

  Poor kid probably hadn’t ever seen something like this before. If not for his army years, Rush probably would say the same thing, but he’d seen a lot of awful things in the military. Sadly, this was nothing.

  Switch cut a wide circle around the body and noticeably kept his gaze averted.

  As they walked around a cluster of trees, two buildings came into view. From the briefing he’d gotten before they left the mainland, he knew that the house was once the warden’s residence, while the tower behind it was the lighthouse.

  A second body, this one face-up, lay spread-eagle in the dirt in front of the old warden’s house.

  No weapon by this body, but a can of spray paint rested not far from the man’s hand.

  On the warden’s residence, a mural dominated a large part of the wall to the left of the door. A shadowy monster pulled a little kid away from a crying woman. Bright green letters above the picture screamed “STOP DEPORTAT.” A jagged line came from the bottom of the last T, cutting through the picture.

  Likely created when the shooting started.

  “That’s Pem.” Switch’s voice shook. “He never hurt no one.”

  And, given the lack of weapon, hadn’t in death, either.

  Once again, Rush knelt to feel for a pulse, even though the vacant, cloudy eyes and rigid body gave a clear answer to the man’s condition.

  After finding no pulse, they continued around the house. Two more bodies waited on the other side. One was in the middle of the path, while the last was at the base of the lighthouse.

  Several spray paint cans littered the ground around the one by the lighthouse. An automatic weapon rested by the other.

  Rush stopped beside the spray can body.

  “That’s Joe.” Switch’s voice broke and he cleared his throat a few times. “The other dude was a friend of Viktor’s.”

  Even though he knew it was futile, Rush checked both bodies. No pulse on either of them.

  Rush rose from his position by the second body.

  “Who’s this Viktor guy?”

  Switch shrugged. “Thought he was a tagger. He said he was lookin’ for some talent to join his crew to make those bureaucrats pay attention.”

  From the look of the weapons, clearly Viktor had a much different agenda than painting.

  But why involve a group of kids in this bloodbath?

  “Any other bodies?”

  “This is all I fou
nd.”

  Rush flexed his fingers on the weapon in his hands.

  Were any gunmen remaining on the island?

  There were way too many places someone could hide around here. Between the trees, the lighthouse at his back, and the prison on his right, an ambush could be only seconds away.

  He’d seen enough.

  It was time to order the entire work group back to the boat and call in the police.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  “We ain’t alone.”

  Viktor glanced at Oksana as Nikolas’ voice came through the earpiece. A narrowing of her eyes was the only indication she’d heard.

  He pushed the button on his communicator. “You see someone?”

  “There’s a boat. Don’t got one of the tour names on it, but looks like some kind of charter.”

  “How big of a boat? Are we dealing with hundreds of people?” That’d be all they needed.

  “Nah. Fairly small boat, couldn’t hold no more than fifty.”

  Their group had thirty six people. They could take a group of fifty. Easy. “Anyone got eyes on the group?”

  With each man who replied negatively, the pink in Oksana’s cheeks darkened. At the first pause, she activated her own communicator. “We’ve come too far to back down now. Sink the boat. And kill anyone who isn’t one of us.”

  Viktor stared at his sister. This was extreme, even for her. “You sure you want to bring that kind of heat down on us?”

  She turned her iceberg eyes on him. “If anyone makes it off this island and returns with the authorities, that will be even worse. We can’t afford not to silence them.”

  The memory of his dead men pressed on him. “If they’ve found the bodies from last night, the cops might already be on the way.”

  “We’ll hope not.” She flexed her fingers on her gun. “We have enough ammunition to take on an army. If we have to, we’ll use it.”

  With any luck, it wouldn’t come to that. If it did, casualties would be high. On both sides.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  The swaying boat jostled the coffee in Zander’s stomach.

  He would not be sick. He would not be sick.