Read Dead Asleep Online

Authors: Jamie Freveletti

Dead Asleep (7 page)

BOOK: Dead Asleep
11.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Chapter 10

A
n hour later Emma drove up to the mangrove's edge. The day's heat was rising and the sun beat down on the car. Crawling through a mangrove was one of her least favorite things to do. The footing beneath could be treacherous, and in places one could sink deep into the brackish water. The twisted mangrove roots extended for several acres, their arching formation emerging from the water in a tangle of wood.

She hauled on her knee-high Wellington rubber boots, shoved a hat with an attached mosquito net onto her head, and pulled the strap of a messenger bag around her neck, settling it across her body. The area where she'd found a rich source of algae was located within the heart of the mangrove. The first time, it took her almost three hours to locate it, partly due to the difficulty in climbing through the swamp, but also because she'd been canvassing the entire grove to find it. Now that she knew the coordinates where it could be found, she hoped to cut the time in half. After opening her compass she started into the swamp.

It was slow going. She grabbed the branches above to assist her in clambering over the tangled wood below. The extensive root growth that was a godsend for the ecosystem because it saved the island from erosion was a hassle for Emma. Despite the obstacles, she moved ahead in a steady rhythm.

Two hours later she made it to the clearing. The mangrove trees there formed a circle, with an open area in the middle where the sun beat down. The water, formerly a brown, brackish color, took on a green hue with a slight turquoise phosphorescence that she suspected came from the blue holes miles away. Here, the sun beat on the water, heating it and causing the algae to thrive. She pulled some gloves and plastic pouches out of the messenger bag and began scooping up the slick tendrils that floated in the water by the water's edge. She listened to the buzzing of a bee somewhere to the right and saw a dragonfly zipping around ten feet ahead. The sun-heated air felt warm and moist, and the water made a splashing noise as she plunged her hand into it. She felt a peace settle over her as she collected the samples.

She looked up in time to see the man raise the machete.

The blade whipped down and she rolled right, crawling up onto her hands and knees and catapulting herself over a long mangrove root that twisted out of the swamp. The man's Rasta braids swayed with the exertion of his swing, and she heard the metal thump into a root. She only looked at him for an instant, but it was enough to see that his face was still twisted.

She leaped over another branch and landed with both feet in the muck, sinking lower as her weight pushed her into the ooze. She pulled her foot up and out with a sucking sound and grabbed at the branches over her head, using them to swing her way to the next opening. Behind her, she heard him splash into the water. Drops of the resulting spray hit her back.

The swamp consisted of ninety acres of wetlands, and she had spent nearly two hours hiking in. She was returning three times faster, but knew she still wouldn't reach the edge and civilization for at least another thirty minutes.

And he kept pursuing her. Emma heard his heavy breathing and splashes as he clambered behind. Every so often he vocalized a whistling wail and chills ran through her at the animalistic sound. She swallowed and kept going, refusing to waste the time it would take to turn around and look. Often they had to crawl through the swamp to move ahead. Emma took advantage of every small opening, hoping the forest of mangrove roots and limbs that grew in long lines next to each other would impede his massive shoulders and large body. She also heard him hacking at the smaller branches with his machete. The cracking noises of splitting wood only served to make her fear ratchet higher.

As an ultra marathon runner, Emma prided herself on the mental endurance she'd cultivated as part of her training. Ultra runs could be as long as one hundred miles and last over twenty-four hours. Often the mind gave out before the legs did. Self-doubt had no place in an endurance run. She knew this basic fact of endurance sports and had spent many hours teaching herself to think only those thoughts that would further her forward progress. If the idea to stop entered her consciousness, she would ruthlessly shove it back into the recesses of her brain before it could take hold.

Now, when the fear reached her throat and her eyes began to sting with tears, she did the same thing she did on mile eighty of a hundred mile run—she told herself that she would prevail because to stop meant failure. In this case, she knew that to stop would kill her.

Mud and stinking water covered her clothes. Her sodden shoes felt like heavy weights attached to her ankles. Her palms were slick with sweat and striped with green ooze that wrapped around some of the lower, underwater branches. She splashed down into the rank liquid and back up onto the twisted roots in what seemed an endless vista of misshapen branches.

Finally, she took the time to glance behind her to gauge his progress. All she saw were mangrove trunks in a wild, squiggly line pattern. He wasn't behind her. She slowed, trying to control the loud rasping of her own breathing in order to hear. There was nothing. Not the sound of splashing water, winded breathing, or cracking wood.

Once again he was gone as quick as he had appeared.

Emma slowed her pace and not long afterward emerged from the grove. She'd left her Jeep at the mangrove's edge but didn't see it in any direction and knew she was in the wrong place. After a moment she found her bearings and headed west, keeping out in the open and well away from the brush. She wasn't about to give the man benefit of cover. If he was going to attack again, he'd have to cross thirty feet of open field.

A butterfly landed on a nearby weed, its wings spread to the sun, and birds chirped all around. Her heart still thumped at an alarming rate despite the beauty and peacefulness around her. Deceptive peacefulness, she thought. This island was harboring more dark secrets than anyone suspected.

The midday sun beat down, creating shimmering heat waves on the pavement when she found the Jeep. The leather seats were hot to the touch as she gingerly lowered herself into the driver's side, then threw the car into gear and headed back toward her villa. Her clothes stank and her heart still raced. She mentally crossed off the rest of her required errands. She'd come to Terra Cay in the hopes that after collecting her specimens she could spend the rest of the holiday relaxing, but now all she wanted was to get back to her house in Miami Beach. She shoved the hands-free headset for her phone into her ear and called Moore.

“I found him,” she said. “He's in the mangrove.” She briefly described the attack and the location where she last saw the dreadlocked man. “I'm getting out of this area,” she concluded. “I don't want to be alone if he returns.”

“I understand. Randiger and I will take it from here. Go home and lock your doors.”

Emma shifted the car into second gear as the Jeep started the climb to the top of the hill. She swung through the entrance guarded by two pillars and slowed when she saw a blue Aston Martin parked in her spot. Carrow leaned against the door, speaking on a cell phone. He hung up when he saw her. His expression was grim, his mouth set. His eyes were bloodshot and all of the exuberance she'd seen in him earlier was gone. She parked halfway on the grass next to his car, killed the engine and looked at her watch.

“Isn't it a bit early for you to be back?” she said. Carrow gave her a somber look, and seemed not to notice her disheveled state.

“We airlifted Martin out about two hours ago. He never woke up, and I decided not to risk waiting.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Emma said.

“And now Layton's asleep.”

Chapter 11

L
ayton Nalen was the band's bass player.

“Does he do drugs as well?”

Carrow nodded. “I checked for mandrake powder. Nothing.”

“Oxy?”

Carrow sighed. “Yes. Cocaine when he can get it and some new prescription drug marketed to shift workers that are employed at all hours. It's designed to keep them awake. Of course then comes the alcohol to take the edge off and sleeping pills to bring it full circle.”

Emma wasn't surprised at this last bit of information. What went up had to go down, and most addicts swallowed tranquilizers to get to sleep. She suspected that he had found the mandrake and dumped it into his alcohol as well.

“It doesn't sound as if you'll be recording.”

Carrow shook his head. “We're under contract to produce another record, and soon. We're behind as it is. I called the studio on the mainland and we've arranged for a second crew to come here. Engineers, equipment, and two new musicians. They're on their way. We'll set up at the villa. And Layton will be airlifted out this afternoon. There's a tropical storm brewing. It's some miles away but could impact on our ability to get him out if we wait any longer.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. She sighed and reached into the back of the Jeep to get her messenger bag with the specimens. Suddenly she felt unbearably tired. Before she could lift the strap to her shoulder, Carrow reached out and picked it up for her.

“You look exhausted.” He eyed her clothes. “Were you crawling through the mangrove?”

Emma shook her head. “More like running for my life. The man was there.”

Carrow's eyebrows flew up. “Did you tell Duncan?”

Emma nodded. “I called him from the Jeep once I got back to it. He and Randiger were headed there to look for him. I decided to come here. I need a shower and some time to think. There's something strange about the entire thing.”

“Were his eyes crazy again?” Carrow grimaced. “That sounded like the weirdest thing about him when you described him to me last night.”

“They were. But I'm not sure what it is he's after. I just don't believe that it's me, because I've done nothing to merit the attacks.”

“Maybe he wants you to stop collecting.”

Emma nodded. “That's the only possible explanation. But what he wants is irrational. If I don't collect the plants, someone else will. They can't stop progress forever.” Emma started walking toward the villa, and Carrow walked in step with her.

“Doesn't sound like rationality is something this guy's got in abundance, if you know what I mean.”

Carrow's comment depressed Emma further. Her tropical island vacation was fast turning into a demented circus, and she was beginning to seriously consider abandoning the entire project. She would have, except the cosmetic company had paid her extremely well to embark on this mission. Collecting the plants was only phase one of the job. After that her lab was to formulate test batches of creams for the second phase. The final phase was to conduct clinical trials on the creams' antiaging effectiveness. Between all three phases her company stood to make millions, and keep her and her employees busy for the next four years. She hated to walk away from such an interesting and lucrative project because of a madman.

“I need a shower,” she said. Carrow ran a hand through his hair.

“Can you help me search for the mandrake?” he asked. “I asked the landscaping crew, but while they don't know what it looks like, they insist that they do know every plant around my villa and it's not there. That doesn't mean it's not somewhere else on the island, though.”

Emma paused. With everything going wrong, the last thing she needed was another plant to acquire. She was behind schedule before the midnight visitors, but now she would have to harvest ten more plants. It had taken her three days to locate the first batch, but she hoped to cut that time in half. Still, she needed to use every waking moment to complete what she was sent to Terra Cay to do. But something in Carrow's eyes made her reconsider. Behind his smiles and flirting with Johnson last night, there seemed to reside a fear. As if something was happening that he hadn't yet revealed. He caught her hesitation and put his hands up, palms out.

“No drugs or selling our souls to the devil, I promise.”

Emma smiled. “You misunderstand. I'm only hesitating because last night's destruction and today's interruption has put me behind schedule. I'll have to head back to the mangrove and collect again no matter what the crazy man wants from me. Then I need to dive into the blue holes and scrape the walls for minerals.”

“I promised to go with you, and I will, but I really would like you to look at Layton and find the mandrake garden first.”

“So you don't believe the stories about the blue holes?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. But something strange is happening on this island. I don't like it.”

“When does Layton get airlifted out?”

“Three hours.”

“Then let's go now. Give me a chance to shower. Would you like some coffee while you wait?” Emma noticed that Carrow looked relieved.

“Love some.”

They headed into the villa, passing through the kitchen. Johnson was there, cutting up a large fish. She smiled at Carrow.

“Why Mr. Richard, how nice to see you,” she said.

“I'm here to drink some of your heavenly coffee.” Carrow's smile and flirtatious manner was back. No one would believe that a few minutes ago he'd looked so grim.

“Right away.”

Emma guided him out to a gazebo at the edge of the infinity pool. He settled onto a small love seat. A scorpion made its way from under the nearby cocktail table, scurrying through the grass and disappearing in the flower garden.

Johnson brought a wooden tray that held a coffee press and two cups. Carrow added cream to his, along with two heaping teaspoons of sugar, and took a sip. “Ms. Johnson, you've outdone yourself this time,” he said. She smiled and walked away.

“I'll be right back,” Emma said.

Twenty minutes later she was showered, dressed, and though her hair was still wet, the rest of her was at least presentable. She lowered herself into Carrow's Aston Martin and strapped on the seat belt. Once again he whizzed around Deadman's Curve back to his house. The sports car, though, took the bend in stride, hugging the road and cornering without slipping out from behind, as the Jeep had. The engine roared as he accelerated, and Emma felt every bump in the road from the combination of the tight suspension and the performance wheels.

A short time later he pulled into the driveway on West Hill that led to his house and parked the car in an area beneath an overhang. He turned off the engine and Emma soaked in the silence. He was looking at her, but it was clear that his mind was miles away.

“Great car,” she said finally. His eyes focused and he smiled.

“Wonderful car. Growing up I dreamed of owning one.” He shrugged. “It was so far beyond my imagination that I would try to stop myself from even thinking about it. But the vision kept coming back, over and over. And now,” his smile broadened, “here it is.”

He swung the door open and Emma joined him, the two of them walking to the house. The only sounds were the chattering of birds, the wind blowing through the leaves, and her shoes crunching on the gravel drive.

Carrow opened the carved door. The inside of the house was in chaos. Wailing came from a room in the back, and Warner, fully dressed in jeans and a nautical striped tee shirt, her feet bare, came running down the hall and straight into Carrow's arms.

“He's going to die!” she sobbed. He put one arm around her and gave Emma a shocked look.

“Who?” he said.

“Layton!” Warner's body shook with fear. Her panic seemed to fill the space, and Emma felt her own skin crawl, both at the image of the shaking Warner and the unearthly wailing in the house.

“Where's his room?” she asked.

“Down the hall, opposite Martin's.” Carrow moved Warner to the side. She clung to him and he kept his arm around her neck as he started toward the open door and where the wailing seemed to be emanating. Emma stepped in behind them and saw a man, fully clothed, on all fours on the bed. His muscles jerked and he catapulted up three feet before landing again. His face held a terrified expression, his mouth was open, and he wailed in a long, wavering, panicked warble. His body jerked again and up he went into the air, landing on the bed.

Rory, the medium, stood on one side of the mattress, swaying and intoning a singsong chant. She wore a tee shirt and jeans and her feet were bare. Around her neck was a large wooden crucifix on a leather string. The song was a mixture of strange words sung in a minor key, almost like a Gregorian chant. Layton kept jumping, not noticing them though they walked into the room and stood at the foot of the bed.

“What the hell is going on here?” Carrow said. His voice was harsh. Rory stopped singing. Layton gave another piercing wail and his limbs jerked.

“He's possessed by evil spirits,” Rory said. “Can't you see? I'm chanting to make them leave his body and return to the depths, where they belong.”

“Did you call the doctor?” Carrow asked.

“Why would I? No doctor can help him,” Rory replied.

“I did,” Warner said. “Ten minutes ago.”

The scene would have been unbelievable to Emma if it wasn't for the obvious terror on Layton Nalen's face. His muscles jerked again, as if he had no control over his limbs, the bedsprings creaking when he landed. His breath came in gasps and sweat glowed on his face. Emma took a step forward.

“Don't get near him!” Rory said. “Can't you see that he is inhabited by something evil? You both should put on a cross, immediately! You are vulnerable to demonic possession if you don't.”

Emma couldn't help it; she snorted, both in anger and disbelief. Anger that Rory would simply stand and sing while Nalen fought his spasming body, and disbelief that she hadn't called an ambulance. Rory's face flushed red.

“This is nothing to laugh at. Can't you see he's fighting the demon inside?”

Nalen made a terrified, groaning sound as he jerked and jumped into the air, rising and falling on all fours again.

“I can see he's in distress,” Emma said, “but I don't see a demon and I don't think you can assume anything. You should have called the doctor.”

“You're wrong, he
is
possessed,” Rory said. “Layton was in here calling out evil.” She waved a hand in the direction of the bathroom. For the first time, Emma looked in that direction. Through the door she saw a red pentagram painted on the bathroom's white tile floor. It appeared to have been drawn in a streaky, red substance that, if it wasn't blood, certainly looked like it. At each point on the pentacle there was a black, votive candle. The flames glowed.

“He and the rest of the band play at devil worship,” Rory said. She leaned in closer to Emma. “But evil is nothing to play with. He got what he conjured. Now we have to get it out of him somehow.”

Emma didn't respond. She agreed that evil wasn't anything to play with, but whatever was in Nalen, she doubted it was a demon. She suspected he was experiencing a side effect from the cocktail of the many drugs Carrow had said the man took on a regular basis. She moved closer to the bed.

“Mr. Nalen, can you hear me?” she said. Nalen neither looked her way nor responded to her question. He just crouched on the mattress and panted, as if waiting for the next spasm. Sweat beads covered his forehead. Emma reached out to touch his arm.

“Don't touch him! The demon will transfer to you!” Rory said. Warner groaned again and Carrow stepped closer, dragging Warner, who still clung to him.

“I don't think that's going to happen,” Emma snapped. Rory took a step toward her, and for a moment Emma thought the woman would hit her. Instead she slapped her hands together.

“I wash my hands of it. You deserve what you get. Don't come to me when you no longer can control the demon inside.”

“I'll take my chances,” Emma replied. Carrow firmly placed the clinging Warner off to the side and stepped closer to Layton.

“Not you, too,” Rory said. “Don't put yourself at risk.”

Carrow ignored her. “Layton, you hear me? Can you tell me what's going on?”

Nalen's body leapt again. He let out a high-pitched wail that ended on a whistle. It was clear to Emma that he was exhausted and in pain. He wouldn't be able to sustain the jerking action of his muscles much longer. The phone rang and she started in surprise. Carrow went to the bedside table, answered it, and after a brief conversation slammed it back down.

“That was the doctor. He says that he's on another matter that's serious and can't get here. He'll call in a prescription for a tranquilizer to the Acute Care Center. He said we need to sedate him, to get Layton's muscles to stop jerking.”

“How far is the Acute Care Center?” Emma asked. “I'll go pick up the pills.”

“Twenty minutes.”

Forty minutes round-trip. Too long, she thought, but wondered if Nalen's heart would hold out. He was pale, shaking and sweating. He howled again and his panting increased.

“Anyone have tranquilizers?” Carrow asked. He looked at Warner. “Do you know where Layton kept his stash?”

Warner shook her head. “He told me last night that he was out.” Nalen howled again.

“What about the mandrake?” Carrow said to Emma. “You mentioned last night that it was a narcotic. Will that work?”

She nodded. “It will, but it's risky. I have no idea how to administer it.”

“I'll administer it,” Carrow said. “We don't have the time to go to the clinic and back.” He spun around and grabbed Warner's hand, pulling her with him toward the door.

BOOK: Dead Asleep
11.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Avarice by S. W. Frank
Nowhere but Up by Pattie Mallette, with A. J. Gregory
Angel in Chains by Nellie C. Lind
Undeniably Yours by Shannon Stacey
Feeding the Fire by Andrea Laurence
Shooting 007: And Other Celluloid Adventures by Alec Mills, Sir Roger Moore