Dead Of Winter (The Rift Book II) (14 page)

“If this is a dream,” he said, “then why am I bleeding? Why would I understand that this is a dream? And where, exactly, am I?”

She shook her head, turned her back to him, and continued walking down the path.

“Very well,” grunted Billy, and he followed.

They marched for a long time, tracing the zigzag path through the forest until it ended. The expansive, smoldering remains of a city replaced the trees. Skyscrapers reached for the heavens with crippled steel fingers. The streets were devoid of life.

“Where are we now?” he asked.

Bella grasped his hand and squeezed. “
Pittsburgh
,” she replied.

The sky grew dark. A light flashed in the distance. It seemed to impart from the heart of the city, itself. He glanced at his escort, who offered him a nod of affirmation. They strode into the barren concrete wilderness.

Sodom
and
Gomorrah
hold no candle to this
, he thought as he surveyed the ruins. For the first time he understood how much devastation had spread across the land. The shadows of people in motion created ghostly silhouettes on the walls of buildings, similar to those chronicled after the fallout of
Hiroshima
. The buildings themselves sported gaping holes, and black smoke still exhaled from many of them. The automobiles lining the road were in such a state of corrosion that they hardly could be classified as cars any longer.

An odd realization struck him: there were no bodies to be found. Even the confines of the prison had been stacked to the gills with corpses. So where were they?

He shook his head. “Is this real?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Is the whole world like this?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is
Greensburg
still intact? And why, even though the destruction is worse here, are there no carcasses?”

Bella tilted her head and stared at him. Her skin tone seemed to grow even darker. The air around her became misty, like she existed in a fog. Her eyes turned a murky shade of brown. She spoke, her tone distant and lacking emotion, in a language he knew he shouldn’t be able to comprehend, but did.

“
His influence will be greatest where populations are densest…raze the temples of leadership…the people will follow…with harsh conditions comes harsh existence…even those who at first repel will not possess the strength to move onward…this way He encircles the land like a snake…and obliterates the enemy from within…just as with the body…the mind…the heart…
”

Billy gave her a cockeyed look. “What does that mean?”

She shivered. The haze surrounding her lifted. She looked like herself again. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, and once more treaded down the hill towards the city below.

The blinding white light, the beacon of hopelessness, continued flashing. They followed it, Billy side-by-side with his peculiar aide. It was a lonely journey, silent. Nothing jumped out at them, nothing reached out with clutching fingers, and no one offered a hesitant greeting. Bella didn’t speak, either. She kept her jaw rigid and eyes straight ahead, focused on the light.

Before long they arrived at an abandoned industrial strip. At the end of that strip sat a hotel. The wavering, intense glow they followed shone through the windows on the third floor. He brushed his hand over the sign in front of the building, but when the ash crumbled away so did the words hidden beneath it.

“Come,” said Bella. She stood at the entrance. She opened the door and stepped inside. The light swallowed her.

The interior of the hotel was luxurious, with elegant furniture in the waiting area, a huge fireplace, and countertops of impeccably carved marble. Ferns decorated every corner. He shook his head and focused again on that which drew them in. The light was still ahead of them, flickering like a torch. It caused his shadow to grow and shrink on the burgundy carpet below his feet, like the funhouse mirrors.

Up the stairs to the second floor they went. Then it was down a long corridor, until they stood in front of a pair of large wooden doors.
Happy Gold, Katy and John!
proclaimed
the banner hanging above them.
Fifty Years and Counting!
He glanced at Bella. She nodded. With a fist wrapped around each door handle, he pulled both open at once.

The room was huge, a banquet hall he presumed, much like the one he’d seen in his dream.
But that was
another
dream, was it not?
he
wondered.
If anything that I dream is actually a dream at all.

He maneuvered around the space, taking care to touch whatever he could to test its solidity. Everything appeared tidy and decorative, dressed up for an occasion he assumed never took place. The tables were outfitted with white- and gold-trimmed cloth. Sitting atop the tablecloths were placards stating hundreds of names and Menorah-like candleholders supporting three candles apiece. It was all very fancy – fancy, and useless.

Thirteen steps farther inward, he reached an area where the tables had been pushed to the side. In the open space he found a woman. She was on her back a few feet from the dance floor, her arms flat by her side.

He recognized her. The one from his waking dream, the one who’d cried out for help. The one he had saved from a nightmare.

So many dreams, so little sense they made.

Bella was beside him again. “Who is she?” he asked her.

“Her name is Marcy,” she said.

“Why does she appear to me?”

“Oh, William,
she
does not appear to
you
.”

He scrunched his brow. “Oh.”

Kneeling down, he grasped the sleeping beauty by her wrist. A faint pulse thumped. Her pale skin shimmered in the ghostly light and her chest rose and fell in short, erratic bursts. Her eyes moved beneath closed lids, as if she was frantically trying to find a way out of the darkness. An unexpected feeling of adoration and sadness overcame him. He bowed, kissed her on the cheek, and then sat back to admire her. Even with her bluish lips, pasty complexion, and shoulder-length brown hair a muddled rat’s nest, she was breathtaking.

Tears formed in his eyes. “Why am I here?” he asked.

“She’s sick,” replied Bella. “She’s infected with death. She needs help.”

“And that help comes from me?
Why me?”

She shrugged. “There are many unanswered questions in the universe, William. If it weren’t you it would be someone else. Just feel lucky that it
is
you.”

“Why?”

“Because she is important.
And that means so, in turn, are you. You’re the wildcard.”

“Wildcard?”

“The unexpected variable that changes
everything.
”

He aimed his eyes at the ceiling. His heart sang. “What do I have to do?”

“Just listen, and listen close.”

He closed his eyes and did just that. Sure enough a sound emerged, like the tapping of a drum. It was a tune, soft and sweet, one he recognized;
God Bless the Child
, sung in a voice both far away and close at the same time.

The girl, Marcy, was singing to him. He remembered.

“She sang this for me,” he said. “After…”

“Follow her voice,” said Bella. “Find her. She doesn’t have much time. She cannot be let to wither away. This would be disastrous. You must act quickly.”

“Very well, I will do just that. But what will I do when I find her? How can I help?”

“You don’t need me to answer that, William. You already know. The ability to save her has been in your blood since the moment you were conceived.”

“But…”

She pressed a finger to his lips and cocked her head. Her eyes darted back and forth. “You have to go now,” she whispered.

“Why? What is happening?”

“Don’t you hear it?”

“Hear what?”

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

“Wake up, Mr. Mathis!” Christopher was only inches from his face. His voice was deafening. “You
gotta
get up
now!
”

Billy groaned and rolled over. He was in the department store office again. The oil lamp still burned by his feet. Sleep needles pricked his thighs.

“Slow down, Christopher,” he said. He shook his head to clear the grogginess. “What is happening? Why are you so excited?”

“I heard a noise,” replied the boy in an urgent whisper.

“What kind of noise?”

“Breaking glass.
Footsteps.
I think there’s someone in here.
In the store.”

Billy shook off his dreamlike lethargy, stood up with a grunt, and walked around the desk. He found it hard to concentrate while part of him tried to keep the memory of his time in dreamland from fading. “Get it together, Bill,” he whispered, and then opened the desk’s bottom drawer and removed the pistol. From there he went to his duffel bag – inside which his folder sat quietly, the pencil and paper taunting him with their lack of use – and took out the flashlight. He clicked it on. The beam was weak.
This had better last through the next ten minutes
, he thought, and headed for the door.

“Hey, Mister Mathis,” said Christopher.

He paused. “What is it?”

“Be careful, okay?”

“I will be, son. You have nothing to worry about.”

The store was quiet. He felt a tickle of unease creep into his thoughts. The thin beam of his weakening flashlight created haunting shadows out of the clothes racks.
Get a hold of yourself
, he scolded.
There are only phantoms here.

He stood in the center of the showroom floor and listened. The gusting wind pushed against the exterior of the building. It creaked. The tapping of the Venetian blinds against the front windowsill followed. These were nighttime sounds, empty sounds.
I am becoming paranoid. Just like the boy.

A woman’s scream pierced the air. He heard Christopher yell, “No! No!” He whirled and sprinted back the way he came, cursing his stupidity for not locking the office door behind him in the process. Perhaps he hadn’t been paranoid
enough.

When he arrived at the office he stormed in, pistol raised. What he saw caused him to stop mid-stride. Sure enough, there was a woman in there. She was dressed in old rags that were much too big for her slender, sickly frame. Her face was hidden by long tangles of gray hair. She sat with her back against the far wall, feet working, pushing backward in a desperate attempt to find shelter when there was none to be had. Christopher stood across from her. He held an aluminum baseball bat over his head. His body shook. Spit and vitriol spewed from his lips.

Billy lowered his weapon and held out a steady hand. “Christopher,” he said, “
step
away from her.”

“Hell, no!
She’s one of
them!
” bellowed the panicked teenager. He thrust the head of the bat at the woman as she again tried to scamper away.