All was quiet. I longed for some sort of noise: dripping water, scuttling rats, anything to break the tomb-like silence.
Aaron spotted some sort of break in the wall about twenty yards down the corridor. Attempting to keep our feet out of the liquid, we shuffled down the tunnel. L.J was behind me and I kept turning around to make sure it really was him at my back.
We arrived at the break in the wall. A rusted metal door was set in the bricks. It was newer than the surrounding masonry, but only in the sense that a Nash Rambler is newer than a Model T. Darker rust revealed a half-century old inscription: a sideways capital E over an X.
Aaron, always the first one over the top, reached for the handle. I stayed his hand.
“Me first.”
I couldn’t read Aaron’s face in the almost complete darkness, but he backed off.
“Guys,” he hissed. “If we’re going to do this, we have one chance. Once Sherman opens that door, we have to rush them. We all have to rush them.”
I took a deep breath, yanked open the unresisting door, and barged through, my two friends right behind me. We stumbled through about five feet of tunnel hewn out of the bedrock. What lay beyond was not exactly hell’s antechamber, but it certainly could have passed for the mud room or sun porch.
The cavern was clearly a natural formation, roughly a hundred feet in diameter, and thirty feet in height. Several wall-mounted torches cast weird lights through the cave. Stacked in the corners stood odd piles of crates and barrels, with a few old army cots and blankets scattered on the floor. Obviously, this was the Synod’s true headquarters.
What caught my attention, however, was an enormous stone dais about ten feet in front of us. It was about three feet high, carved out of living rock, and garishly painted with the familiar logo. To the left stood Saberhagen and Dan, who was already aiming a revolver at us. Directly in front of the altar sat a figure in a wheelchair. Charlie was handcuffed to the chair. I could not read her expression in the flickering light, or even tell if she was awake.
Saberhagen turned to Dan with an expression of intense irritation. “I thought you said Mr. Andrews was secure.”
“He must have escaped,” whined Dan, with the voice of an employee caught napping.
“You think?” The scene would have been comical had we not all been in mortal peril.
Heedless of the danger, I lurched toward Charlie, stopping only when I heard Dan’s gun cock. I could see her eyes now. They were half open, unfocused. She must have been drugged, or worse.
I turned to Saberhagen. “Let her go…”
Saberhagen held up a restraining hand. He was dressed in a strange sort of white robe, though I wasn’t in the mood for a fashion review at the time.
“Let her go,” said Saberhagen, in a rather impressive imitation of my voice. “It’s me you want. She didn’t do anything.” He spat on the floor. “I gave you an out, Mr. Andrews. And not a day went by before you went to meet Mr. Dubbs and plan on how to expose me.”
Dan pointed his gun at me with a look of goggle-eyed ecstasy. Behind me, Aaron snorted like a rodeo bull, desperate to charge. If I tackled Dan, he’d have time to get off one shot. Would that be enough for Aaron? If I got shot, would that allow my friends to capture him? Or was Saberhagen armed as well?
From inside his robes, Saberhagen drew a long, bone-handled dagger. “You know that in exchange for my long life, I’m required to make certain sacrifices.” He pronounced the last word as if he’d been required to give up smoking, rather than murder random people. “You’re aware of Miss Lane. The police haven’t connected her death with that of a homeless man who was beaten to death last night in Jefferson City. One more and I’m guaranteed another couple of years.”
He raised the knife above Charlie, whose head lolled, totally unaware of her peril. Oblivious to Dan’s weapon, I rushed Saberhagen.
I was too late. The knife blow was swift, brutal and fatal. Saberhagen had obviously stabbed people before; death came instantaneously.
Dan lay face down on the cavern floor, the knife stuck neatly between his shoulder blades. He never saw it coming.
– Chapter Twenty-Three –
The chain that locked the Synod’s basement was gone. Sammy hesitated until he heard shouting that indicated Roebuck and Knowles had barged through the front entrance. Sammy yanked open the cellar. He and Gowen bounded down the few stairs.
The basement was just as Sammy remembered it, though a bright light bulb now dispersed the shadows. Mr. Saberhagen sat on a wooden bench, leisurely smoking a cigar. Behind him on the wall hung a long strip of canvas. With neat strokes, someone had painted WELCOME, REVEREND GOWEN.
“You’re so predictable, Reverend. Sammy, I’m not surprised you two know each other.”
Rev. Gowen recovered from his shock. “Paul Saberhagen, I place you under citizen’s arrest for murder.”
Saberhagen blew an impressive smoke ring. “Will anyone believe you? Where’s your proof?”
Sammy pointed to the tarp-covered workbench. “Right there! Christ, you didn’t even move the body.”
Saberhagen made no move to stop Sammy as he yanked the covers off the bench.
It was a body, all right, just not Alanzo. She was naked, gagged, tied to the table, and very much alive.
Rev. Gowen recognized her. She was the strange woman who’d shown up in his office weeks ago, as if to trap him in a compromising position. She certainly looked terrified now.
Sammy quickly dropped the tarp back over her body, leaving her head uncovered. He then did something he had never done before. He cursed at another person.
“You son of a bitch.” For once, he didn’t smile. He pulled a jackknife from his pants pocket and began hacking at the woman’s bonds.
Saberhagen stood, turned, and flipped a switch on the wall. The resultant explosion knocked both Sammy and Rev. Gowen to their knees. Upstairs, Roebuck let out a scream of terror.
“Small keg of gunpowder,” explained Saberhagen. The whole place will probably go up in a few minutes, so let’s not waste words. The front hall is in flames, your friends can’t escape that way. Sammy, you worked here, is there another way out?”
Sammy stood. “The windows have bars—the back door is the only way out.” A look of horror crossed his face. “And you need a key to open it!”
Saberhagen tossed something to Sammy, a large key. “Better get to it, then, hadn’t you?”
Smoke poured down through the ductwork and from cracks in the floor. Sammy looked at the restrained girl, at Rev. Gowen, and then ran to save his two friends.
Gowen rushed over to the girl, intent on unbinding her. When Saberhagen drew a pistol, Gowen didn’t flinch. Only when he pointed the gun at the hostage’s head did Gowen stop.
Saberhagen pounded a building support with the side of his fist. “We’ve got a couple of minutes. Let’s talk.”
Dan’s murder was so unexpected that I momentarily forgot about Charlie. Across the cavern, I could see Aaron and L.J.’s eyes widen in disbelief. As for Saberhagen, he leaned against the altar, grinning like someone who’d just won a hand at poker.
I recovered myself and rushed towards Charlie. She seemed undamaged, but I could not open the cuffs that held her to the chair.
“Mr. Saberhagen?” I heard L.J. ask.
“Yes?”
“Why did you do that?”
Saberhagen spat again. “Because he certainly was useless as an assistant. Had he been able to follow simple directions, both Mr. Andrews and Mr. Dubbs would be long gone.” He turned to me. “You’ll need a key to open those handcuffs. Please stand on the far side of this room and we’ll see if we can’t work something out.” Saberhagen’s robe had fallen open, revealing jeans, a T-shirt, and a large, ugly pistol in a holster. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket.
Gently, I removed Charlie’s gag and backed away. For a second, her eyes opened and she shot me a sleepy smile.
“It’s going to be okay,” I
lied.
Saberhagen drew his gun and gestured to L.J. and Aaron with his free hand. “You two may leave. Please pull the door shut behind you.”
My friends stood, unsure of what to do. “Let us take her with us,” said Aaron, pointing to Charlie.
“She’ll be in no danger, I assure you,” said Saberhagen, lighting his cigarette off a convenient torch.
“But…”
Saberhagen sucked on his cigarette until the end glowed, and removed it from his mouth. He then roughly seized Charlie’s jaw and held the cigarette about an inch from her face. She moaned.
“Get out!” I screamed at my friends.
Horrified, L.J. and Aaron ran out the door. It swung shut behind them. As soon as they were gone, Saberhagen butted his smoke against the central dais.
“Did you hurt her?” I demanded. I was almost afraid of the response.
Saberhagen answered for her. “Do you mean, was she raped? No.” He glanced at Charlie, as if contemplating the possibility. Eventually, he turned back to me.
“Do you know why I brought you here, Sherman?” The false humor was gone from his eyes.
“To kill me.” I tried to meet his eyes, but kept glancing at the pistol that lay near Dan’s stiff hand, just a few yards away.
“You, your girlfriend here, probably Mr. Dubbs as well. Tonight was my last chance to shut you all up permanently. Fortunately for you, my assistants not only allowed you to survive, but alerted the entire world as to what was going on. Have the police arrived?”
“Yes.” I began to inch towards Dan’s corpse.
“There’s only so much I can hide. Congratulations. You’ve won.” I doubted he was going shake my hand. I was about a yard from the gun. Saberhagen noticed. Obligingly, he kicked it towards me.
“Pick it up.”
Expecting a trick, I leaned over and grabbed it. The grip was still sticky with Dan’s blood.
Saberhagen opened his robe and laid his hand on his weapon. “Should I say ‘draw’? Or will you hear me out?”
Saberhagen was standing too close to Charlie for me to risk taking a shot. I shoved the gun awkwardly into my back pocket.
Saberhagen smiled, a little more friendly. “You know, you both could still walk out of here.”
“What do you want from me?”
He chuckled. “I want you to turn these stones into loaves, if you’re hungry. I want you to throw yourself down from the temple roof. I want…”
“Huh?”
He shook his head. “Old joke. Before your time.” Saberhagen walked over to the pile of boxes and began rummaging around. He didn’t stop me when I walked over to Charlie and began rolling her towards to door. The uneven floor made going difficult.
Saberhagen turned and watched me, amused. When I realized the exit didn’t open from this side, he laughed.
“It’s not too late for you to join me, Sherman. I could use a friend, a partner. The centuries get lonely.” He sounded like someone’s grandpa, complaining that his family never visited.
“You know I could never do that.” Not after what you did to Stephanie.
“That’s exactly what Rev. Gowen said.” Saberhagen had retrieved a can of gasoline from among his supplies.
“So what now?”
Heaving a world-weary sigh, Saberhagen walked over to the stone dais. With great deliberation, he removed his shoes and robe. He tossed his pistol to the floor of the cave. Only when he poured the gasoline over his body did I realize what he intended to do.
“You’ve made things too hot for me, Sherman. Because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, someone will connect me with the murder of Miss Lane. It doesn’t matter, I didn’t care for this decade anyway. Perhaps the year 2035 will be calmer.” He climbed onto the altar.
“What about us?” I was overjoyed that he wasn’t planning on killing Charlie and me, but we were still trapped down here.
Saberhagen pulled a lighter from his pocket. “You? Oh, I’ll look you up, next time I’m around. Count on it.”
He flipped the lighter and his clothes caught almost immediately.
Saberhagen draped a conspiratorial arm around Rev. Gowen’s shoulder. “Picture it! The entire future ahead of us! 1960! 2000! 2500! Imagine life then. You can see it all, if you just join me. I could use a smart partner.”
Rev. Gowen could barely listen to the ranting of the clearly deranged cult leader amidst the inferno below the Synod building. Blue smoke billowed down from the basement stairs, driving the oxygen out of the cellar. Upstairs, an unfamiliar voice had not stopped screaming for nearly five minutes. The nude female hostage had ceased writhing on her bench and lay there inert, coughing occasionally. Sparks rained down from between the overhead floorboards.
Saberhagen began to pace, his voice a rapid falsetto. At odd moments he would puff on his cigar.
“You’ll never die. Never. The things I’ve seen, Gowen! I’m older than you think. Than you think. The price isn’t high. It’s upsetting at first. I’ll admit that. Very upsetting. But you get used to it. Don’t you see? You understand, don’t you? The alternative is death…that justifies it, doesn’t it?”
Gowen had stopped paying attention. Sammy had left his knife. He picked it up and began hacking at the naked woman’s bonds. She gave no impression that she was aware.
The knife was dull and the ropes thick. Gowen was working in the acrid dark; he could not see as far as his hands. Something in the primitive part of his brain warned him that he had not been breathing for a dangerously long time.
He managed to free her arms, but she was unresponsive, her flesh clammy. Only the bonds on her legs remained. Somewhere in the flaming pit of a basement, Saberhagen continued to babble.
A creak, a crunch, and a crash. The temperature of the room filled Gowen’s lungs with fire as the overhead ceiling partially collapsed. Flaming timbers fell like an Egyptian plague. Across the basement, the door to the outside beckoned. It would take Gowen five seconds to escape.
Whatever temptation the reverend suffered was cut short by an unexpected rabbit punch, which knocked him on his face. Rolling over, Saberhagen stood above him, framed in flames and brandishing Sammy’s knife. He waited until he was sure the reverend could focus on him. Then he hurled the knife into the flaming debris.
“Let’s see if you’re as smart as I think you are. You can either stay down here with the whore and burn to death. Or you can leave here and let her burn. Of course, if you do that, then you’re no better than me.”
Gowen tried to stand up, but felt himself succumbing to an overwhelming urge to lie down and sleep. Through the smoke, he was dimly aware of Saberhagen, climbing the basement stairs and entering the burning Synod headquarters.
– Chapter Twenty-Four –
It would be pointless to say that I’d never seen a man burn himself to death. Just as I’d never witnessed a train accident, been kidnapped, or watched someone rise from the grave.
Saberhagen’s clothes were completely engulfed in flames. He stood erect on the altar, groaning like a man who’d just stepped into an icy pool. When the smell hit me, I knew it would be a long time before I’d eat barbecued pork again.
Even from across the cavern I could see my tormentor’s skin begin to bubble and peel. And still he stood!
“Tulzscha! O haunter of the green flame! Ia! Ia! Kryon Tulzscha! F’tagahn! TULZSCHA! TULZSCHA!” Saberhagen screamed these words, even as his face cracked and his hair incinerated. And then he turned to me. With blank eye sockets and lipless teeth, he said one last thing.
“The only way out of here is the last thing you’d expect. Remember what Gowen told you.”
He managed to bark out a few more ‘Tulzschas’ before his body collapsed on the dais in a burst of sparks. Charlie was moaning and I hoped she wouldn’t wake in time to see this. The door was still locked, but the police would be here soon, we could get her to a hospital…
As if in answer to my thoughts, I could just make out the faint sound of f
ootsteps. I wheeled Charlie a few feet away from the door, in case the cops had to force it. Only those weren’t footsteps.
Rhythmic, faint, but growing louder. Not from above, but from below. Almost like a drum. Or—a heartbeat. Something massive. For some reason I thought of reptiles. A massive, three-chambered, cold-blooded heart.
Saberhagen’s charred and reeking skeleton still smoldered on its pyre. From the smoke, a single, green tendril of gas seeped upwards. With every subterranean thump, the colored steam grew more solid. It reached the domed ceiling and spread about the ancient stalactites.
Something gave Saberhagen his power. And it was about to pay us a visit.
The green smoke began to glow faintly, casting a sewage-green glow over the underground room. Everything seemed coated in filth and slime: the altar, the piles of boxes, Dan’s corpse—for a second, even Charlie seemed as vile and unclean as a pile of dog shit.
The column of smoke was now a solid pillar of green flame that reached from Saberhagen’s ashes to the lofty cavern roof. The pounding was clearly audible and I had the horrible, crushing feeling that the entire cave was pulsating, as if we were inside a horrible organ, and the green flow was a stream of the giant’s blood.
There was no time to wait for the police. There was no time to do anything. I knew that if Charlie and I saw Tulzscha, or whatever this unholy thing was, we’d be lucky if we died quickly.
Charlie shook; she was beginning to wake up. Her bonds were tight; a pair of police handcuffs around each wrist bound to her to the chair. Where the hell were the keys? Did Saberhagen have them? Were they among the piles of crates and sleeping bags?
Something in the air was burning my eyes and I found it almost impossible to keep them open. The glowing flame danced about the chamber, illuminating everything, but casting no shadows. The air was hot, filled with the smell of putrefaction.
Everyone Dies in the End Page 21