The Eye of Madness (24 page)

He was blank and numb not from a lack of emotion, but from an overwhelming wave of emotion. It washed through him like the intimate touch of an Impal … soothingly warm and frigidly cold. He felt sorrow, he felt regret, and he felt guilt. He was not sure why. Jack leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to process these feelings. They were as foreign to him as physics was to an amoeba.

He closed his eyes as the emotional cyclone continued to rage within.

Ruth slept. He knew if he did not allow the woman's fragile body to rest, it would not last much longer. The one good thing about occupying a body was that even as the body slept, the occupying soul could still keep one eye open, so to speak. He had managed to keep an eye on Rebekah and Malakhi. However, even though they slept closely, it was similar to trying to watch someone across a wide field with binoculars. This gave him the strange sensation of being close, yet feeling far away from somebody. He had not felt this since the day he died.

This caused him to do something out of the ordinary, he thought of his friend, Dismas. He had watched him die several yards away as they both hung outside Jerusalem. He never saw Dismas in the void. For centuries, he wondered why. Some people are just slow learners and it took the man calling himself Ruth almost two thousand years to figure it out. Dismas was penitent for his evil acts when he died; he was not. In fact, he was downright belligerent in his ignorance and arrogance. He murdered, raped, and stole his whole life and had not felt a shred of guilt or remorse. He believed he was doing what he must to survive. To him, in his ignorance and arrogance, all his actions were justified necessities.

Ruth did want salvation, but the temptation to revert to his old ways was overwhelming at times. He wanted to take Rebekah out in the woods, rape her, and then slit her throat. What good would it accomplish? It might make him feel good for a few minutes or even a few hours. But, then where would he be? He knew his desire to have sex with this woman and murder her for his own well-being did not fly. He almost laughed to himself when he considered he was not equipped to rape a woman right now.

He watched and waited as the old lady and her body slept under his control. He was convinced his salvation somehow rested with them. He didn't know why. Maybe it was somehow atoning for his deeds by watching out for them.

As he thought about these things, a name ran through his head, his real name. His mother was Ruth, this much was true. In the void, he was just a nameless occupant of a nameless nothingness. He had to stop and think for a moment. It was such a long time since he remembered. When he did recall, his face broke into a wide grin in spite of the sleeping body.

“That's my name and I will have salvation,” he thought to himself. “As sure as my name is Gestas.”

Musial did not return by nightfall, which worried everyone. However, when he didn't return by the next morning, panic began to set in. There was not enough fuel to last another night, especially if it was a cloudy day. They might not even make it to nightfall. This possibility was driven home by the distant rumble of thunder.

“You've got to be freaking kidding me,” Derrick said as he stared out the window at the darkening sky. The perimeter of daylight was closing fast on their little cabin. “We are going to have to milk the generator for all it's got today. If this storm doesn't pass soon, we won't have enough gas to make it through the day, let alone tonight,” he said, tapping his knuckles on the window with frustration.

“Shut up, Derrick!” Burt snapped. “He'll make it back.”

Derrick folded his arms and turned to face him. “You sure got chummy with that murderer,” he said. “What's the deal? Don't tell me you actually sympathize with him?”

Burt did not answer. He just stared at him with distant, glassy eyes as if he were trying to figure out who was speaking. Cecil watched pensively from the sofa as he sat next to Barbara. She had been exhibiting some encouraging signs this morning. Her mouth moved as if trying to form words. It wasn't much, but it raised his hopes a little. As he watched his two friends, his tiny amount of joy began to melt away. Burt was showing all the classic signs of someone who had suffered a severe concussion. The first occurrence of nausea and vomiting had begun at sunrise. Cecil hoped, they all hoped, Burt just got his bell rung a little. The longer they watched, the more they realized this was not the case. If he did suffer a severe head trauma, he needed medical attention, and he needed it now. Of course, it was not an option without taking him to a military base.

Cecil felt as if a stone was sitting in his gut as he watched his friend's eyes open and close as he tried to focus on Derrick. Did he have reservations about Musial's trustworthiness? Absolutely, but he knew Burt was right; they had no choice but to trust him. He also knew Burt was no fool.

“Well, if he doesn't come back it's all on you!” Derrick continued.

Cecil had heard enough. He saw the tears begin to roll down Sally's face as she rubbed her husband's arm. He stood up and stood between Derrick and Burt.

“Give it a rest Derrick,” he muttered.

He looked in Derrick's eyes, expecting to see rage. Instead, he saw something he did not expect, he saw fear. His anger at Derrick started to fade into empathy. Cecil was terrified as well.

“Let's go outside,” Cecil suggested.

Derrick blinked and then glanced around the room at all the eyes locked on him. He suddenly felt embarrassed. He turned and walked out onto the porch.

The wind began to blow harder; rustling the trees in the nearby woods. The sound was strange. The darkening sky had driven the shadows closer to the house. The dark whispers made the rustling leaves sound like background static. Cecil couldn't help thinking of the TV in the movie,
Poltergeist
. Judging by the approaching clouds, he guessed they had about ten minutes before the dark forced them into the house.

“I'm sorry, Cecil,” Derrick said. “I don't think he is coming back. He's already been gone almost twenty hours. I could have driven to Denver by now.”

Cecil didn't say anything at first, he just shook his head. Then he took a deep, shuttering breath. “I understand, Derrick but lay off of Burt, okay? He's in bad shape.”

Derrick seemed shocked. Either he had not paid attention or he didn't understand the nature of head injuries. “Okay …” he stammered. “How bad?”

“I think he has a concussion and a pretty bad one. He needs a doctor.”

Derrick rubbed the back of his hand across his upper lip. “Jesus … I had no idea,” he whispered.

The wind picked up as lightning flashed, followed a few seconds later by an enormous clap of thunder. It rumbled through the woods, exciting the dark as their insidious hissing intensified.

“We better get inside,” Cecil said, clasping Derrick's shoulder. “The shadows are going to be on us before we know it.”

The two men turned and walked inside as the first fat raindrops began to splatter the driveway. The dark was coming and would soon be on the doorstep. It would be contained only by their interior lights. The lights which were now putting a tremendous and unplanned demand on the starving generator.

If they had stayed outside a few moments longer, they might have heard the distant approach of a vehicle deep in the woods.

CHAPTER 26

REGIME

“There are three things in the world that deserve no mercy, hypocrisy, fraud, and tyranny.”

~Frederick William Robertson

The new cabinet accompanied President Garrison to the large relocation base at Quantico. As far as they were concerned, DC was in hand. Last night, they introduced their final opposition to the whispering lunatics. It was now time to broaden the web, to shore up support, and to prune the tree of discontent beyond the capital. This time the military personnel who sympathized with the Myriad Resistance would meet the same fate.

The president brought his new cabinet because Avery was now the vice-president. He could deal with the unpleasant tasks since the president didn't need to get his hands dirty. Garrison believed himself superior to the individuals who had to leave the lights on after dark, yet he still knew the importance of plausible deniability.

“Looks like a hell of a storm heading this way,” Robby said as he peered out the window. He had been biting the inside of his lip and clinching his fists for the last ten miles. He was seeking something to resist the temptation to rip Garrison's throat out with his bare hands. The president did not care for smoking and deplored the sinful act even more in closed quarters. When Robby tried to light up a cigar, Garrison slapped him.

“Who the hell does that idiot think he is?” he thought to himself. “If he wasn't the president he would be dead right now.”

The presidential limo carried five people, not counting the Secret Service ride along. There still seemed to be enough room to play a pick-up game of basketball inside the spacious sedan. This car was identical to the presidential limo which vanished a couple of weeks earlier. The only difference was this car did not sit under a hundred feet of murky water.

Everyone stared out the window at the approaching storm. Actual weather related storms were a rarity since the cosmic storm arrived months ago. For some strange reason, it seemed to have a calming effect on meteorological conditions. Ironic, since it also had the effect of materializing souls and unleashing dark spirits on the Earth.

“What did you do … piss off God?” Joan asked, glaring at President Garrison.

Garrison glared back. It was clear to everyone that he didn't appreciate her disrespect or sacrilege. Avery moved in to diffuse the situation. “What exactly did you do for the government?” he asked her.

She kept her eyes locked on Garrison as she answered. “I screwed men to death,” she said with no emotion.

“Damn,” Sebastian chimed in.

“You come near me,” Joan said with the guile of a poisonous snake about to strike, “and I'll cut off your root and feed it to you. Then I'll stab you in the throat, shish-k-bobbing the little worm while it is still in your gullet.” She then muttered a host of curses while clinching her fists.

“Joan was one of our best operatives,” Avery interrupted. “She did whatever she had to do for the mission.”

“Sounds like she enjoyed it,” Robby grinned as he chewed on an unlit cigar.

“What if I did?” Joan snapped. “What did you do,” she asked, eyeing Robby's rather large mid-section, “sit on people?”

His face flushed red with anger and he turned toward the window as another brilliant streak of lightning spiked across the sky.

Almost as if the ensuing thunder was his queue, Garrison said, “I think all of you need to shut the hell up! We are doing God's work. We are all chosen by God's will and all you can do is fight amongst yourselves and use language offensive to our Lord!”

“What does God have to do with anything?” Sebastian thought, but dared not say. He was an atheist and had spent his whole life despising the Christian faith. Sebastian was never sure why he hated Christianity. He was never molested by a priest, struck by a nun, nor was he ever berated by an overzealous evangelist for his sinful ways. He reviled the hypocrisy he saw in every Christian church he ever attended. He never believed the deeds he committed as evil or hypocritical. He was doing what he must in the grand scheme of the universe. He did things those hypocritical Christians would find offensive. He despised the hypocrisy breaming in the car around him, culminating with President Garrison. This zealot was the personification of every negative feeling he ever held about religion. For a moment, he wondered why he was here. He reminded himself that not everyone had the opportunity to be a presidential advisor. What else was he going to do?

Everyone took the president's advice and shut up, but no one was happy about it. The only thing that kept the rest of the ride from becoming a scowling contest was the sudden onset of rain. The rhythmic beating of large raindrops splattering against the roof and windows was soothing as the wind nudged the car from side to side.

The driver and Secret Service agents were saved at the behest of President Garrison's insistence. He demanded they bring plenty of extra lights. It wasn't because he cared for their well-being; he didn't want to have his driver engulfed by the dark while travelling at sixty miles an hour.

Even though it was a little after noon, it was as dark as dusk when they reached Quantico. A single guard remained at the post sitting in a tiny shack. What appeared to be a three hundred watt bulb burned inside. Of course, he did not come out; he couldn't. The guard waved them through when he recognized the car.

They arrived at the command center a few minutes later. It was lit up with brilliant white lights shining from every window and door. No one was outside. A dozen or so officers in full dress uniform stood inside the door ready to greet them. Garrison had been forward thinking when it came to the lights for their support staff, yet he had not when it came to umbrellas. They got out of the car and sprinted the twenty yards to the building. The wind howled, the lightning arced, and the rain fell with enough force to sting.

Garrison glanced up moments before he made it under an awning. A bolt of lightning arced like a spider web across the clouds. He couldn't help noticing how much it resembled the foreboding entrance to the Tesla Gates. In an instant, an idea struck him. What if he could kill two birds with one stone?

In the course of eliminating dissenters, he could also see if the Tesla Gate would get rid of Impals in their current dark form. He could use the condemned dissenter as bait. It would have to be done quietly though. If it leaked, it would destroy any form of plausible deniability. He was deep in thought as they entered the building. Garrison ignored greetings, respectful applause, and the offering of dry towels. He walked straight to the nearest conference room, entered by himself, and then locked the door behind him. He would have to think this over.