Michael Lister - Soldier 02 - The Big Beyond (17 page)

Chapter 45

R
uth Ann was dead now. Now, Christa would turn her attention to me.

“He should be regaining some feeling by now,” she said from the stage. “See if he is.”

“How?” Harry asked.

“Stab him in ze leg. Just not too deep. Don’t want him bleeding out before I get to work on him.”

She withdrew a knife from a tray near her and tossed it to Harry. It clattered on the floor and slid over not far from his feet.

I was beginning to get some feeling back, my limbs waking, but I had to convince him I wasn’t. I even felt as though I might be able to move soon, but I couldn’t let him know that. Could I act like I couldn’t feel the stab? Was that possible? I prepared myself.

He picked up the knife, which had traces of Ruth Ann’s blood on it, and poked at my leg.

It hurt, but I didn’t respond.

“You feel that?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s killin’ me. Please stop. You’re hurting me so bad.”

“Well?” Christa yelled from the stage.

“Nothing yet.”

“Make sure he’s not faking. Stab him good and hard. Just try not to go too deep.”

He did as she said, driving the sharp knife at least two inches into the top of my leg.

Tears came to my eyes, but were masked by the ones already there.

“Still dead.”

“Goddamn, I hope ze dose didn’t do permanent damage. Hate for him not to feel zis. Go ahead and unstrap him. Ve can get him all set up vhile ve vait to see if he’s gonna vake up to die. Call Rogers. Ve’re gonna need his help.”

“Where is Delt?” I asked.

“Doesn’t have the stomach for this part. Need someone keeping an eye out for Flaxon anyway.”

“What’s Flaxon’s deal?”

“Doesn’t play well with others.”

“What’d you expect from an anarchist?”

As Harry came around behind me and began loosening the straps that held me to the chair, I slumped as if I were unable to hold myself up.

“We don’t need him anymore anyway,” he said.

“Already killed all the girls you infected?”

“The only thing left is for him to be shot to death by the police when they try to apprehend him.”

“The police or Delt?”

“I’ve got a few friends on the force.”

“What are your plans for me?”

“I haven’t told you? I’m slipping in my old age. We’re gonna strip you naked and mount you facedown on top of your bloody slut just like you’re fucking her, then Christa’s gonna slice you apart too, and just before you die, I’m gonna whisper something in your ear that will be the pièce de résistance.”

“What could you possibly tell me that I don’t already know?” I said. “That you raped Lauren and gave her your disease? That you killed her? That you and your little Nazi bitch are the sickest fuckin’ people on the planet?”

“You’ll see.”

When he loosened the last of the straps, I crumpled to the floor as if I were unable to do otherwise.

“Get Delt,” Harry said. “Let’s get him strung up and get on with it.”

I craned my head up off the floor and looked around. Christa was disappearing off the back part of the stage, calling for Delt as she did. Then Harry’s expensive shoes were beside me.

“She really did look like Lauren a bit, didn’t she?” Harry said. “’Cept for the eyes. We’ll keep those closed so you can still pretend it’s Lauren you’re fuckin’ up there.”

“He’s not out zere,” Christa said.

“What? Is his car gone?”

“It’s still zere.”

“Then he’s around. Probably went to take a piss. Don’t panic.”

“I’m not pani—”

That was all she got out before her head exploded and her blood and brain matter shot out, joining Ruth Ann’s on the stage.

I had no idea who had shot her or what was going on, but I knew now was my moment.
I swept my legs around and knocked Harry’s out from underneath him. As soon as he hit the ground, I was on top of him, wrestling the knife out of his hand, cutting myself in the process.

As soon as I had it away from him, I slid the sharp blade across his fat neck, slicing open his jugular, his warm blood spurting out, spraying me, soaking his shirt.

He grabbed at the gape in the side of his neck, his wide eyes panicky and pained.

“You deserve a lot worse,” I said.

I heard footsteps on the stage and looked up to see who it was.

“I should kill you for robbing me of the satisfaction of killing him,” Flaxon De Grasse said. “Or I could let you live because you killed him—you know, the enemy of my enemy … Look at the mess this bitch made.”

He shook his head and walked off, disappearing, as Christa had before, at the rear of the stage.

Harry was calmer now. He was trying to say something.

“Last words,” I said. “What do you have to say?” “… was going to tell you,” he said, “… just … before you … died. Guess … it will be before … I do.”

“Then you better hurry,” I said.

“Come closer,” he said.

I did.

“Lauren’s alive,” he said.

My mind reeled as I was rocked back by those two little words.

“What?”

“I had her declared … DOA … took her far … far away … got her … best care possible … nursed her back … Wanted you … both to know … I knew … wanted you to suffer … to be tortured and … die horrible deaths … She will. No one knows who she is … you will … never find … her. I mean … never. You … helped kill her … again … You just … killed the only person … on the planet … who knows … who and … where … she …
And with that, he died.

Chapter 46

E
arly the next morning with no sleep and no peace, I stood before Lauren’s grave, Clip on one side, Henry Folsom on the other.

The headstone and earth removed, the coffin was now being raised.

What did I want more? Harry to have been lying or telling the truth? Was it possible she really was alive? Did I dare to hope? Was I wishing a horrible fate on her if I did?

Clip was in bad shape, having nearly died in Delt’s trunk, but he had insisted on being here. I had never met a more loyal man.

Like Christa, Delt had been killed by Flaxon, who had disappeared. He was dangerous and on the loose. There was still no clue as to what happened to Pete either, but all I cared about was whether the mortal remains of my love were inside the box about to be opened or if she, like hope, remained here with me on this side of the big beyond.

And then with no fanfare or even a dramatic pause, the casket was opened.

Decay.

Decomposition.

Death.

The body inside was degraded and deteriorated, the rancid stench causing all of us to recoil.
I felt my stomach lurch, as the cemetery began to whirl around me.

“Look,” Clip said, as the lid was removed the rest of the way.

I did.

And that’s when I realized the reason for the advanced stage of decomposition. The body had not been embalmed and prepared for burial.

Because it wasn’t Lauren. It was Pete.

I had never, not in all my life, been so happy to see a friend dead. I’d feel bad for him later and even worse for how I felt, but right now all I experienced was relief … relief and the slightest glimmer of hope.

“It’s not her,” Clip said.

“It’s Pete Mitchell,” Folsom said. “Poor Pete.”

She’s alive. Lauren’s alive.

“We’ll find her,” they said simultaneously, as if hearing my thoughts.

“Yes we will,” I said. “Yes. We. Will.”

Michael Lister

A native Floridian, award-winning novelist Michael Lister grew up in North Florida near the Gulf of Mexico and the Apalachicola River, where most of his books are set.

In the early 90s, Lister became the youngest chaplain within the Florida Department of Corrections—a unique experience that led to his critically acclaimed mystery series featuring prison chaplain John Jordan: POWER IN THE BLOOD, BLOOD OF THE LAMB, FLESH AND BLOOD, THE BODY AND THE BLOOD, and BLOOD SACRIFICE.

Michael won a Florida Book Award for his literary thriller, DOUBLE EXPOSURE, a book, according to the
Panama City News Herald
, that “is lyrical and literary, written in a sparse but evocative prose reminiscent of Cormac McCarthy.” His other novels include THUNDER BEACH, THE BIG GOODBYE, BUNRT OFFERINGS, and SEPARATION ANXIETY.

Michael’s Meaning Series are meditations on how to have the best life possible, and include: THE MEANING OF LIVE IN MOVIES, THE MEANING OF JESUS, and MEANING EVERY MOMENT.

His website is
www.MichaelLister.com
.