by Ron Ripley
“No,” Timmy said without humor. “I don’t have what I need to build a bomb strong enough. My hope is to wreck the house.”
“To what purpose?” Marcus asked. “Could we not simply try and capture the bayonet without the explosion?”
“Sure,” Timmy answered, frowning. “We could put the cart before the horse, too. Listen, if we leave the house standing, Christopher will continue to feed off the power inside. Not only will he be able to strengthen himself, but he’ll be able to hide if he feels the need. The house is his after all.”
Marcus grunted in disappointed agreement.
“No. We blow up the house, and we have the dead Indians standing by to help contain Christopher,” Timmy said. “They told Alex they might not be able to destroy him. It doesn’t mean they won’t be able to keep him fenced in, or even off of us so we can retrieve the bayonet and bring it to the chapel. Once there, we can imprison him along with Nathaniel. We should be good then.”
“What about Worthe’s guards?” Marcus asked.
“The Huron won’t let them interfere,” Alex said, his game of checkers placed on hold. “I’ll tell them not to.”
The faraway look in Timmy’s eyes was gone. He smiled. “You have to remember, he has a finite supply of troops. I mean, we haven’t seen anything resembling a normal patrol schedule. He has too many holes in his lineup. Either he folds up and leaves, or he brings in reinforcements. No other third option.”
“Are you sure of that?” Marcus asked.
“Hell no,” Timmy said grimly, “but it’s all we can hope for.”
***
Abel sat in semi-darkness, scratching at the uncomfortable stubble on his chin. The itching was nearly unbearable, only slightly less so than the idea of shaving.
When David entered the room, Abel hardly noticed. It took him almost a minute to realize the man was speaking.
“I’m sorry, David,” Abel said, interrupting his captain. “Could you start at the beginning?”
“Of course, sir,” David said. “We’ve found Jane.”
“I didn’t realize she was missing,” Abel murmured. “What is her report?”
“Sir?” David asked.
“About the subject,” Abel said absently. “Has she managed to track our wayward subject down?”
“No sir,” David said. “The subject killed Jane.”
Those four simple words dragged Abel up and out of his daze. “What!”
David nodded grimly. “Preliminary examination shows a puncture wound to a thigh, sir. Her femoral artery was severed. She bled out within minutes.”
“Any trace of the subject?” Abel demanded.
“No, sir,” David replied.
“Absurd,” Abel grumbled. “Absolutely absurd. David, I want you to get on the phone with Alfor Security Options. Bring in ninety, at a minimum.”
“Thirty, sir?” David asked, his tone one of surprise.
“Yes,” Abel said. “Don’t bother about finding them equipment for an extended outdoor stay. Contracts will be expiring soon with our people. Anyone not comfortable working alongside the new hires will be afforded the opportunity to break their contracts without any penalties. Bonuses to those who stay, however. I want the Alfor contractors placed in the current compound. No need to house them out of doors. They’ll be in the elements soon enough.”
“Yes, sir,” David said. “I’ll call them immediately. I have the personal number for the CEO. He’s quite eager for the work.”
“I’m certain he is,” Abel said, suddenly feeling exhausted. “David, would you kindly send Nurse Schomp in to see me after you leave?”
“Yes, sir,” David answered. “Is there anything else you need?”
“I want a better plan for taking the boy out of the Village,” Abel said bitterly. “One which won’t cost us so many lives.”
“Understood, sir.” Abel watched David leave, the door closing gently behind the man.
Sighing, Abel reached into the breast pocket of his shirt, pulled out one of Meredith’s cracked teeth and gently rolled it between the tips of his thumb and forefinger. Then, after a minute, he placed it beneath his tongue and savored the taste.
Chapter 36: Too Close to the Cages
Liam Woodward spat into the snow and leaned against the hood of the Humvee.
Professor Abel Worthe was, as far as Liam was concerned, a complete and utter tool. He knew the man was disgustingly rich, but without any sense of how to use it.
I wouldn’t have that sort of problem, Liam thought, spitting again. Get me a nice spread out on Luzon, enjoy the weather. Maybe even get a wife. Who knows? No more winter, though. Nope, none of it. Hell, get myself a boat, go out and fish. Never do another day’s work again. Sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting up near the Canadian border buying haunted houses and kidnapping people. But, it’s like taking money from a baby. Idiot throws cash around like it’s confetti.
Liam snickered at the image.
“What’s so funny?” Jose asked.
“Thinking about how stupid our boss is,” Liam answered.
“David?” Jose leaned on the hood across from him.
“No, but he’s an idiot, too,” Liam said. “Would you be doing this crap if you had tons of money?”
“Playing soldier in the snow?” Jose asked with a laugh. “Hell no. Only reason I’m up here is because I’ve got a house I’m looking at down in the Keys.”
“See!” Liam said, grinning. “None of this cold weather crap. I just want to be someplace warm.”
“Yeah, where?” Jose asked.
“The Philippines,” Liam replied.
“Not bad,” Jose said. “I was there a few times. Hell, I was born out there. Had to watch out for unexploded ordnance, you know?”
“Yeah,” Liam started, then he stopped.
“What?” Jose asked, straightening up.
“I don’t know,” Liam answered, glancing around. “Something isn’t right. Do you feel it?”
Jose tilted his head to one side, and then he nodded.
“Yeah,” he answered. “It’s strange. Like the air got cold and thick all at the same time.”
“Are there any of the dead out here?” Liam asked, loosening his sidearm in its holster.
“Shouldn’t be,” Jose responded. “They’re all confined to the Village. We’re still sweeping the fence on a rotating basis to make sure there are no breaks.”
“Damn,” Liam muttered. “Something feels wrong.”
“I know,” Jose said, and as the man turned around, the dead Indians appeared.
Not one or two, but thirteen of them.
Thirteen, Liam thought, dragging his sidearm free of its holster. Bad luck, baby. Bad Luck.
Neither he nor Jose were wearing their helmets, the ponderous, uncomfortable headgear left in the Humvee. They hadn’t expected an attack so far from the fence.
The first of the Indians smashed into Jose, knocking him down even as the dead man vanished. Others swarmed to where the man had fallen, and several more broke off toward Liam.
Fighting back his rising fear, he snapped off a pair of quick shots, distantly pleased to see the dead men vanish. But more of the dead were racing toward him, their screams of joy piercing the air as they sought to overwhelm him. He stepped back, glancing around and firing as needed.
He knew he wasn’t fighting conscripts or militiamen in Iraq. He was facing masters of guerilla warfare. Dead men who had lived and fought and breathed battle for decades.
They showed it with every action they took.
The men moved cohesively as if anticipating the movements of the others. A pair of them constantly dashed forward, jabbing and swinging for his unprotected head while others spread out around his sides, trying to outflank him. He heard Jose scream, and a moment later, the dead men were dragging Jose by a bare foot toward the wrought iron fence of the Village.
A quick glance toward the barrier showed a man, a living man, standing there, and by his posture, Liam
knew it was Timmy Knip.
As the recognition settled firmly in his mind, Timmy raised a hand and waved nonchalantly.
Liam swung his pistol toward Timmy and squeezed the trigger only to hear the disheartening snap of the hammer dry-firing.
He was out of ammunition.
Liam swore and struggled to reload, only to have the weapon slapped out of his hand. He reached for the hilt of his knife, but a tomahawk caught him in the stomach. The ghostly blade struck him with enough force to knock the wind out of him even as the attacker vanished. Another swung a warclub at him, forcing Liam to duck, though not quickly enough. Part of the club hit the side of his head, sending him reeling to the ground. A bitterly cold hand grasped him by the hair, and Liam found himself being dragged toward the Village.
He struggled against his captor, dimly aware of the dead men laughing around him. Liam found his knife, drew it and began to cut away his hair. There was cheering from the Indians even as one of them took his knife away. In a matter of minutes, Liam was at the fence, dumped unceremoniously beside Jose.
“Jose!” he snarled, turning toward his friend. The man’s name died on Liam’s lips.
Jose was dead, his eyes partially rolled up in their sockets as the man’s head jerked to the left and right. Liam looked up and saw Timmy smiling.
Timmy’s bare hands were red and slick, a large knife held in one hand and Jose’s black hair scalp in the other. With a laugh, Timmy waggled the loose scalp at Liam.
“We’ve got this deal,” Timmy explained, dropping Jose’s scalp into the snow on the other side of the fence. “The Hurons, they’ll help us out so long as we scalp whoever they kill. Guess what I volunteered for?”
Before Liam could respond, Timmy’s hands slipped through the bars and grasped the side of his head.
The first cut was as painful as the last, but neither of them compared to when Timmy tore the scalp from Liam’s head and held it up for the cheering dead men.
Chapter 37: Morning News
David’s head ached as he splashed water on his face. He dried off, brushed his teeth, and was about to pull on his boots when there was a knock on his door.
“Come in,” he said, dropping into his chair.
Ellen entered the room with a pair of coffees. She handed one to him and sat down on his bed.
“Black?” he asked, sipping it with a wince.
“Suck it up, buttercup,” Ellen said, “and take it like a man.”
He chuckled and nodded. “For now. So, what brings you by?”
“I was in the listening room last night,” she answered. “Going over the audio we’ve been pulling out of 114 Broad. Have you listened to any of it?”
“No,” David admitted. “Been kind of busy, Ellen.”
“Sure, I get it,” she said. Ellen took a drink, then said, “Anyway, you may want to. You’re a subject of conversation.”
“Oh?” David asked, mildly interested. “Between Timmy and Subject B?”
“Yup,” Ellen said. “Primary talking point revolves around the best way to kill you.”
David wanted to reassure himself he didn’t have to worry about either man, but he found he couldn’t. Both were capable of killing. Especially Timmy, who had more of a reason than ever before. David took another drink of coffee to mask his discomfort.
Ellen seemed to notice anyway. “Did you get the APB out?”
“No,” David answered. “I’m going to speak with the professor after breakfast. He needs to put the finishing touches on anything sent out. He knows all the legalese we should include in the draft.”
“Sure, he does,” Ellen said. She stood up and looked at David. “Listen, I’m packing up. Rumor has it you’ve contacted Alfor SO.”
“How in the hell can you know that!” David exclaimed, almost spilling his coffee.
“IT tracks everything,” she said with a cold smile. “You know that. You’re the one who insisted they put in keyword recognition software. Seems like ‘security’ is one of them.”
David regained his composure, frustrated with the revelation of his surprise. I’m too stressed.
“Listen, Ellen,” David began.
She held up a hand, forestalling any further statements.
“I even know the details of the conversation you had with the Alfor CEO, David,” she said. “My old commanding officer works on the guy’s staff. My CO reached out to me, asking if I’d be interested in the gig since I’m stateside. I told him no, I wasn’t. Family issues in California.”
David frowned, and Ellen let out a bitter laugh.
“Don’t worry, David,” she said, walking to the door. “I didn’t tell him anything about the job. He’s not coming over with the troops, he runs the recruiting side in Europe. Just remember, you get what you pay for.”
Without another word, Ellen left the room, leaving the door open behind her.
David considered the woman’s statements for a short time, then he put on his boots and went in search of Professor Worthe.
***
When David knocked on the door, Abel tucked Meredith’s tooth into his cheek and called for the man to enter. Nurse Schomp had left only a few minutes before, and the tea she had brought him sat cooling on the table.
“Hello,” Abel said.
“Sir,” David said, striding in. “Do you want the shades put up?”
“No, thank you,” Abel said. “I’m afraid I have a terrible headache. Nurse Schomp was here a short time ago ministering to me. Tell me, David, have we found the escaped subject yet?”
“No, sir,” David said uncomfortably. “She’s the reason why I came so early this morning.”
“Sit, please,” Abel said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
David spoke quickly and succinctly, outlining a plan by which they might catch the subject should she truly escape their grasp.
Abel was nodding by the time his captain finished.
“An excellent plan,” Abel said. “Was this one of your own devising?”
David shook his head. “No, sir. A young guard named Ellen.”
“Please see she is rewarded,” Abel said. “She’s absolutely correct. I’ll draft a letter later today. I trust you will continue to hunt for the woman, though?”
“Yes, sir,” David said, nodding. “We have a pair of teams searching right now. They’re rotating, twelve hours on, twelve hours off. I’m hoping to get Jose and Liam back out there as well. They are focused individuals.”
“Weren’t they back already?” Abel asked. “I thought I saw them on the video feed earlier this morning. They crossed the initial checkpoint.”
David looked suddenly concerned. “They haven’t reported in.”
Abel watched as his captain used the radio to call in to the first checkpoint.
“Affirmative on Jose, David,” the unknown speaker replied. “He and Liam crossed about an hour ago. We had reports of gunfire, but the gate guards reported everything secure.”
“Copy,” David said grimly. “Sir, could we check the footage?”
“Of course,” Abel said. He moved Meredith’s tooth from one side of his mouth to the other, the cracked enamel clicking across his own, the rough, broken pieces nipping at his tongue.
David went to the monitors, jabbed at the keyboard and brought up footage taken earlier at the first checkpoint. They watched the Humvee containing Jose and Liam pause, then move on out of the picture.
It never appeared at the second checkpoint.
Frowning, David switched from feed to feed, searching for some sort of clue as to where the vehicle was. Finally, he found it, far off to the east and barely in frame from one of the disused guard towers. David brought the footage back until the sight of Liam and Jose leaped onto the screen.
As David pressed play, they watched as the men were dragged away from the Humvee by a group of Huron warriors. In a short time, none of the living or the dead were visible.
David switched feeds again, finding an image of a pair of b
odies propped up against the iron fence. The men were tied by their hands to the crossbeam of the fence, bodies sagging at the knees. They were, Abel realized, dead.
Leaning forward, he stared at their bloody faces and the raw carnage atop their skulls.
“What happened to them?” he asked softly.
David shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together. He brought the footage back until he saw the men being tied to the crossbeam by Timmy Knip. They watched as he finished, turned toward the camera and waved cheerfully. Then, he reached into a pocket and brought out a pair of bloody rags, holding them up happily.
“What are those?” Abel murmured.
“Scalps,” David said, his voice hoarse. “He scalped them.”
Abel turned, coughed the tooth into his hand and vomited into a nearby trashcan.
Chapter 38: A Good Walk
Joyce kept to the thicker parts of the forest, avoiding open spaces and anywhere she might be observed from the sky. She hadn’t heard any helicopters or seen any small planes, but she didn’t doubt Worthe’s determination to catch her.
She paused, adjusted the straps tethering the spare coat to her, and checked her backtrail again. There were no traces of her passage. Her light steps in the snowshoes and the coat she dragged behind her saw to her near invisibility in the forest.
She smiled. You taught me a lot, Dad. I wish you could know about this.
She felt a sudden longing. Not for her deceased parents, or even for her idiot of a husband, but for Marcus and Alex. They had become her family, and she missed them both terribly. She even found herself wishing she was back in 114 Broad, sitting in front of the fire and listening to Timmy bicker with Marcus about something inane.
Don’t forget Elaine, Joyce chided herself. Her stomach rumbled, and she decided it was time to stop and eat. She found a large pine tree, made her way to it, then crawled beneath the sagging branches. Around the base of the tree, the snow was packed down, tufts of light brown fur clinging to the tree’s bark.
A good place, she thought, nodding. The deer think this is safe, and they know better than I do.