Dom Wars: Round 6 (11 page)

“Yep.”

“Because of that dream you had,” I said.

“Yep.”

“You seem so….sure.”

“I am.”

“He is,” Becca agreed, casually.

I didn’t get that. I wanted to get it though. “So you have a dream from God and you just…believe it. How do you know it wasn’t…just a dream, I mean I’m not trying to knock it, just curious.” About the insanity of it, actually.

“I know the difference between dreams and
a
dream. I learned to distinguish.”

When I didn’t get more specifics, I prompted, “Is it…difficult?”

“No. You know the dreams that come with a knowing saturation? You feel it while you dream it. It’s like God taps me on the shoulder in the dream and wakes me up while I’m dreaming it and says
pay attention, I’m telling you something.
The dream can be the strangest shit, but he tells me not in words but in knowing. I see a white rabbit and he makes me
know
what it means in the dream. Doesn’t make sense to anybody else but he sees that it makes sense to me.”

“Wow.” Kind of…a little too kinky for me. Had I had any dreams like that before? Couldn’t say for sure. “Do you both have them?”

“Becca has visions sometimes. But she doesn’t know what they mean, she tells them to me and God shows me what they mean. I think He does that to make us dependent on each other.” He angled a grin at her and winked.

“Yes, a ball and chain of gifts,” she chuckled warmly then leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re stuck with me,” Preacher said, staring at the fire.

I remembered he’d said he had a dream about me. “What was…what did you dream about me?” The second the question left my mouth, I wanted to take it back. Did I want to know? Likely not, no.

“Just that a man was coming into my life that I was supposed to train.”

“Train.”

Preacher looked at me. “In His ways. For your ministry.”

“My ministry?” Fear slammed me at the idea of being made to do something I didn’t want to, or couldn’t. “What kind of ministry?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t show me that.”

Ugh, fucking great. “Why wouldn’t He?”

“Not my business, I guess. I teach you what I know, He shows you what to do with it. Bane, you don’t need me to mediate nothing with Him. He’ll establish direct connections with you the same way He has with me.”

Unexplainable excitement flooded my veins right alongside the terror of that idea. “Direct connections.”

“You repeat a lot of shit man. Direct connection, communication.”

“Like what?”

“Like whatever He chooses.”

“Dreams and visions?”

“I have no idea, maybe more, that’s up to Him and you.”

“Me?”

“How far you’re willing to go.”

I stared at Preacher feeling like we’d just entered an unexpected vortex in reality that led us to an eerie holy ground. The air seemed to sizzle and my body tingled as Preacher locked gazes with me.

“Yeah, you feeling that Bane? He’s here. Ready when you are.”

I swallowed, my palms suddenly sweating. Ready for what? What did He want with me, want to do with me? Why me, what had I done? Was this penance for my sins? How was I supposed to do anybody any good if I had no idea what goodness actually was, how was I not as lost as the next person?

Be still.

The words whispered through me and I gasped as Preacher chuckled. “Creator of the Universe has been expecting you my brother.”

That was the oddest thing ever and most impossible to believe. But if that was true, He’d definitely have to show
me.
Not Preacher.

Chapter Twelve

Preacher woke us all early before departure time. We’d gotten the flag melted off after supper and hit the sack considerably early. Here I was worried we wouldn’t hear the alarm and no doubt the hand of God probably shook him awake. But all things considered, the man was definitely perfect to be used by God. Strong. Fearless. Confident. Crazy.

We set out on day four the second the alarm sounded permission. No breaking any rules. Couldn’t have any reasons for them to deny us the money. Preacher’s vehement motto we had
better
obey.

The journey to the fourth flag was oddly
easy.
Level ground. Nearly open. Weather beautiful. We spotted the flag long before we got to it. In a valley on a pole, looking for all the world like one fucking bad omen. Come and get me, look how easy it is.

Which was the problem. Too easy. And not
one
of us said a word because that is exactly what we all thought. No, knew.

“We’ll get the flag under cover of darkness this time Bane,” Preacher finally mumbled after a solid five minutes of
what the fuck now
.

We headed to the nearest forest that would put us near tomorrow’s route
out
of this fucking jungle and off this fucking island. We made camp and while Tara and I set up the sleeping platform, Preacher and Becca gathered firewood and searched out food.

They returned with a handful of the small
magical
berries Becca had found before, the ones that gave a serious surge of energy when eaten. Becca also had a pair of birds, maybe a little larger than doves. By the time we finished cooking and eating, full darkness had settled over the little valley.

“Ready, Bane?”

Dread sucked at my feet when I stood to go. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Our one remaining LED headlamp had gone dim with dying batteries and we needed to save what juice it had left. Preacher constructed a torch by twisting some dried grasses into a tight knot, which he fastened to the end of a long pole.

The four of us carefully navigated by torchlight until we were close to the flag. Slowing down for even more caution was the only real defense we had against more of Jase Duff’s stupid shit. But even with all that care, we found absolutely nothing out of place.

Finally there was nothing left to do but take the flag, and we did. And still nothing bad happened.

Chapter Thirteen

Exhaustion threatened to drag me back into sleep even as I rubbed my eyes and climbed out of the sleeping platform. Thank fuck this was almost over. Last day, and we were still relatively whole. Looking back, that was a fucking miracle, between the island trying to kill us and a psychotic sadist doing everything he could to help death come for us faster.

And still nothing had fallen out of the sky after getting the final flag, leaving the air thick with a building dread. No trap at the final flag was more disturbing than a trap.

Whatever. We got the fucking flag, and now we’d get to the beach as fast as we could, get to the boat before any of the other teams, hopefully. The end. Thank. You. God.

Tara slid from the makeshift bed and came up behind me to slip her arms around my waist. I turned to pull her close, enjoying the sleep-warm softness of her skin. The tank top and briefs she slept in were far too many clothes, but with the shared sleeping arrangements, there wasn’t much of a choice. She tucked her head against my shoulder and I closed my eyes and just held her while I whispered my little prayer for our safety.

Tipping her head back, she looked up at me and smiled. “I wouldn’t have imagined you as the religious sort.” It was her little joke, gently teasing about my frequent new habit.

A light smack to her ass broadened her smile. “I don’t think I am. But I’m not taking any chances either.” The muscles of her back tightened as I ran my hand from her ass slowly up her spine. Despite the time we’d spent out here with no toiletries, her hair still spilled over my hand like spun silk. My hand fisted to apply the perfect pressure to tilt her head for my kiss. “Mmm, I can’t wait to get off this rock just so I can fuck you properly.”

“Is that so?” She took a playful nip at my lower lip. “In that case, I can’t wait either.”

Becca chose that moment to intrude and climbed out of the sleeping platform with a cheery good morning. The jungle had nothing on that woman. Other than her obvious worry, she showed no ill effects from the difficult terrain and constant hiking. Even the never ending dampness, which left the rest of us covered with any number of itchy and highly uncomfortable rashes and skin irritations, left her practically unscathed.

She disappeared behind the screen of brush that served as our bathroom wall for this campsite just before Preacher appeared in the lingering early morning gloom.

Only the hand he raised to signal silence prevented me from speaking aloud to him. Instead, I waited and observed while Preacher crossed to where Becca had ducked out of sight. Soft laughter confirmed he’d managed to surprise his woman. Good for him. We had to steal any moment of peace we found in this godforsaken jungle.

I grabbed my pants off the makeshift clothesline by the sleeping platform. As usual, we hung our clothing through the night so it could dry slightly in the smoke from our fire and hopefully be slightly fresher the following day. Tara shook her own clothes out, and inspected for random insects that might have taken up housekeeping during the night, and dressed quickly. A fat spider, nearly as wide as my palm, fell out of my boot when I shook it out for safety’s sake. Reflex raised my foot to step on it, then I remembered my boot was in my hand. On second thought, I shuddered and watched the thing scurry away.

Tara’s laughter drew me from the near-trance of staring after the arachnid. Taking a breath, I realized I’d been holding it, waiting for the damn thing to appear again. “Not funny.”

One hand smothered her laughter in unconscious effort to keep from advertising our presence more than necessary. “It is too. Who’d have imagine big, bad Lucian Bane is afraid of spiders.”

Well, when she put it that way, I had to admit it was almost funny. “I didn’t see you offering it dinner, either.”

“Of course not. But I also don’t mind admitting spiders, especially ones that big, creep me out.” Her smile mesmerized me, leaving me helpless to do anything more than stare at her in awe. “Come on, let’s get breakfast going so we can be one step closer to getting the hell off this rock.” Although, breakfast was the last rations of the fish Preacher had caught the night before.

She gave a long moan of anticipation. “Sounds impossibly perfect.” I built up the fire and put the tiny water pot on to boil, while Tara added the leaves Becca had gathered along the way good for teas. Fish and tea. Yum.

Finished, she moved away to do something else and I dug out the handful of berries Becca had instructed was good for eating and drinking and tossed them in for flavor. I didn’t really care for the leafy tasting water. They helped add a little fruity tang to the tea, which was nearly as good as Kool-aid. Only hot.

Tara and I ate, and began packing up the little bit of gear while Preacher and Becca ate. Finished, Preacher extinguished the fire and kicked it apart, while Becca took care to pack tinder and kindling she’d dried overnight by the fire. Was she expecting another night on the island? I started to ask, but Preacher caught my eye and gave a nearly invisible shake of his head. Better not to know. Maybe she was just paranoid. Like me.

Twenty minutes after climbing out of the sleeping platform, we walked away from our last camp on the island from hell. After that first day, we’d fallen into a pattern that preserved our strength and energy where possible, and hopefully had helped to keep us all safe.

Trekking through the jungle was one hell on earth I was so not going to miss. Now that the end was in sight, figuratively at least, my impatience refused to be kept in check. Every part of me wanted to just grab Tara’s hand and run for the beach by the most direct route. Too bad we didn’t have wings.

The routine we’d established early on did its job and kept me where I needed to be, right there with Tara and Preacher and Becca. Without that bit of discipline any of us could have run off screaming into the forest and never be heard from again. Instead, we pushed the impulse away and stayed and worked together toward our common goal.

At some point during the middle of the afternoon, I noticed a slight difference in the way the sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees overhead. We’d learned that subtle change usually signaled a break in the forest, such as where the river cut through. Preacher called a rest stop and we shared a bottle of Becca’s berry tea and caught our breath.

During the relative quiet of our break, an odd sound penetrated the usual noises of the day-time rain forest. “What
is
that?” Tara looked all around. “Do you hear it? This strange buzzing sound, almost like a bee hive, but in the distance.”

We all listened hard, trying to place the noise and Preacher shook his head. “Make sure we all stay close, no one gets out of sight of the others. Until we know what’s making that noise, it’s a threat.”

Shit. I took Tara’s hand in mine, hating for the hundredth time that we were on a deserted island with a sadistic psychopath, and even the most innocent of things could become a threat to life and limb.

I just hoped it wasn’t another team that beat us to the finish. Moving again, we made a conscious effort to reduce our own sounds in order to hear that susurrating buzz more clearly. A few hundred feet further on, it increased in volume, but remained unidentifiable, leaving us caught between the need to rush forward and find out what it was, and an opposing instinct to head in the other direction and put distance between us and the sound that seemed to take on a threatening quality as it climbed up the scale of volume.

The light changed yet again, growing stronger than we’d seen since our first steps into the jungle. A quick pause and I looked up and miraculously caught a glimpse of blue sky peeking through the maze of foliage above. “Do you see that?” I asked quietly, to no one in particular.

The others froze in place, peering warily around, glancing toward me for some indication of the danger I’d spotted. “The canopy is thinning. We’re close to the edge of the jungle.” Another clue fell into place. “That sound is the surf.” Even though they were mine, the words sent a surge of adrenalin into my bloodstream, demanding I rush the rest of the way to the beach.