The Furies (45 page)

“It's very simple. I'm going to break you before I kill you.”

“No.” His skull flared as he shook it. “You won't.”

“Not with physical pain, no. It's a useful tool, but it only goes so far. Emotional pain is the best way to destroy someone's soul.” Sullivan shook the sack of bullet ants, raising the volume of their shrieks. “I'm going to put this over Lily's head now. That will be interesting, won't it?”

John felt a jolt of alarm. He sat up, his head bursting, and struggled to his feet. Marlowe grabbed him before he could take a step toward Sullivan, and the Rifleman named Percy smacked him with the butt of his carbine. At the same time, though, Elizabeth came striding toward them, her long black dress dragging through the mud. Although her head had been turned away from them, she'd clearly been paying attention. She glared at her son, her hands clenched.

“Enough of this, Basil! Just execute the man and have done with it!”

Sullivan grimaced. His cheek twitched again as he narrowed his eyes. “Don't tell me what to do.”

“I won't tolerate any more threats to Lily! Let go of her this instant!”

Instead, Sullivan yanked on Ariel's hair and pulled her backward. “She needs to be punished. You did a poor job of disciplining her, Mother. I'm going to teach her to be obedient.”

“I said
let go of her!
” Elizabeth jumped toward him and knocked the sack of bullet ants out of his hand.

Pandemonium erupted. The woven sack hit the ground and broke apart. Some of the leaves came loose, freeing the ants, which swarmed over Sullivan's boots and up his legs. With a scream, he let go of Ariel and ran toward the water, stamping his feet and slapping his pants to shake off the insects. Meanwhile, Elizabeth slipped her hand under the neckline of her dress and removed a pocketknife hidden in her bra. Pulling out the blade, she cut the rope binding Ariel's hands. Then she brandished the knife at the five Riflemen who'd raised their carbines and surrounded her and Ariel. “Stand back!” she yelled. “Leave us be!”

The Riflemen kept their distance, unwilling to act without further orders. Sullivan swiftly recovered from his scare, but his face had turned bright red in humiliation. He stomped toward the circle of Riflemen and the two women at its center. “That was stupid,” he hissed. “Very stupid.”

“Let us go in peace!” Elizabeth yelled. “You can keep the refuge and all the surrounding property. We'll help you relocate the rest of your men and provide you with all the gold you need.”

“I don't need your help.” He sneered at her. “You're useless to me now.”

“You won't survive in this jungle without our money. You'll need food and medicine and construction materials. And you'll need to keep paying your guerillas if you want their protection.”

Sullivan shook his head. Then he reached into his bomber jacket and pulled a pistol out of his shoulder holster. It was a Mauser, a sinister-looking, old-fashioned gun, like something a Nazi spy might carry in a World War II movie. “I'm tired of your advice, Mother. And I'm sick of hearing your voice.”

Elizabeth widened her lone eye. She brandished her knife again. “Don't be a fool! If I don't return safely to my cousins, you'll get nothing from us! You'll rot here!”

“We can earn our own money. I have a plan.”

“It's not as easy as you think. Do you realize how long it took our family to build up its wealth?”

“There's a quicker way. We're going to sell Fountain protein to the highest bidder.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “What?”

“Eternal youth is a valuable commodity. The billionaires in America and Europe and China will pay us handsomely for it.”

“So you plan to reveal the existence of Fountain? And its antiaging effects?”

“Only to a select few individuals. The people who can afford to pay us.”

“Stop and think for a moment, Basil. Once you reveal this secret, it'll spread like wildfire.”

“Not necessarily. Not if we're careful.”

“It doesn't matter how careful you are. You can't control the—”

“I already told you, I don't need your advice!” Sneering again, he pointed the gun at her chest. “Your day is done, Mother. Your reign is over. This is the dawn of a new age, the Age of the Immortals. And I'm going to be its master.”

Elizabeth didn't respond at first. She cocked her head and stared at her son in disbelief for several seconds. Then she started laughing. She lowered her knife and raised her other hand to her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter, but she couldn't stop herself. “Dear Mother of Creation, you can't be serious. You—”

Sullivan leaped forward, lightning fast, and ripped the knife out of his mother's hand. Then he pressed his pistol to her chest and fired.

 

 

Elizabeth's death changed everything. As John watched the Chief Elder fall, his fear was so great he nearly collapsed, too. He knew there was no one to stop Sullivan from hurting Ariel now. Although John had resigned himself to his own fate, he was horrified by the thought of Ariel in pain. Sullivan knew this, knew how much it would tear John apart, so he was sure to keep hurting her for hours, torturing and maiming her in front of everyone on the muddy riverbank. And in the end, Sullivan would kill her. He'd force John to watch the light go out of her eyes.

Ariel knelt beside Elizabeth's body, her hands slick with her mother's blood. She was crying silently, staring straight ahead as the tears trickled down her face. John tried to go to her, but Marlowe and Percy held him back. Although everyone there was gazing at Elizabeth's corpse, the sight seemed to have a special fascination for the Riflemen. They must've felt like they'd just witnessed the death of a god. The men gazed at Ariel too, looking for signs that she was afraid, but she gave them nothing but that blank, paralyzed stare. John realized she was doing the same thing he'd done. She was resigning herself to her fate.

John let out an anguished cry and struggled with Marlowe and Percy, twisting in their grasp. Sullivan was right: this agony was worse than the pain in his head and face. He couldn't let them kill Ariel! If she died, who would plant the garden? Who would turn the earth into Paradise?

Meanwhile, Sullivan paced back and forth along the riverbank, still gripping the Mauser in his right hand. He seemed more agitated than ever. His eyes were bloodshot and his neck was shiny with sweat. He avoided looking at his mother's body and stared at the ground instead, specifically at the ruined sack that had formerly held the bullet ants. Finally, he turned to the pair of Amazon tribesmen, who were still squatting in the mud a few yards away.

“Get me another one!” he shouted, pointing at the sack as he strode toward the tribesmen. When they looked at him in confusion, he bent over and slapped the nearest one in the face. Then Sullivan pointed at the tents on the other side of the lagoon. “Do it now! Before I shoot you!”

Cowering, the tribesmen slunk away and ran down the length of the peninsula. Sullivan watched them go, then turned to Reyes. “I apologize for the delay, Comandante. There will be a brief intermission while we wait for our native friends to prepare the second act.”

Reyes chuckled. “It will be a long wait, señor. Those men won't return.”

“What do you mean?”

“They're going back to their village. I think you frightened them.”

Scowling, Sullivan raised his Mauser and aimed it at the fleeing men. But they were too far away, and after a moment he lowered the gun. His hands were trembling. With great difficulty, he slipped the pistol back into his shoulder holster. “Heathen knaves,” he muttered. “They're more like apes than men.”

“Señor, may I ask a question?” Reyes stepped forward and pointed at the six women from the Caño Dorado expedition. “Are you planning to kill these girls, too?”

Sullivan looked confused. He probably hadn't thought that far ahead. “They're my sister's allies, so they bear no love for me. If given a chance, they wouldn't hesitate to slit my throat. Killing them would be the safest option, I suspect.”

“But they're such beautiful young girls.” Reyes stepped toward Mariela and reached for her long red hair. He laughed as she twisted away and cursed him in Spanish. “It seems such a shame.”

The guerillas behind Reyes murmured their agreement. The men nodded and nudged one another and slapped their rifles. The Riflemen showed some interest too. Marlowe and the others stared hungrily at their cousins. The fact that the women were sweaty and bedraggled and had their hands tied behind their backs seemed to make no difference.

After a few more seconds Sullivan grinned. A look of astonishment appeared on his face, as if he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this idea himself. He nodded rapidly, sweat dripping from his hair. “You're right, we shouldn't kill them yet.” He turned to Marlowe. “Bring my sister over here.”

Marlowe let go of John and stepped toward Ariel, who still knelt beside her mother. She didn't resist as he pulled her up and dragged her to Sullivan. John winced as she walked by without even glancing at him. She was resigned, defeated. Her face was blank because she'd withdrawn her soul to the farthest corner of herself. The Riflemen could do whatever they liked with her, and she wouldn't feel anything.

Sullivan positioned himself so that John could see what he was doing. As Marlowe stood behind Ariel and took hold of her arms, Sullivan reached into one of the pockets of his bomber jacket and pulled out the knife he'd taken from his mother. Very slowly, he pulled out the blade and held it in front of Ariel's face. At the same time he glanced over his shoulder at John. “Watch carefully, paramour. You might learn something.”

He gripped the collar of Ariel's shirt and pulled it toward him. The fabric stretched in front of her and strained against the back of her neck, but she didn't react. Her face was as expressionless as a mannequin's. Then Sullivan lowered the blade to the collar and began cutting downward. The tip of the knife sawed back and forth, less than an inch from her throat.

John's stomach twisted. He could hardly breathe. He wanted to throttle Sullivan, to strangle the bastard, to grab the knife out of his hands and stab him in the heart. But John knew it was hopeless. He might be able to wrench himself out of Percy's grip, but what would he do then, with his hands tied behind his back?

Sullivan cut halfway down Ariel's shirt. Then he stopped, hands trembling, and stared at the lace cups of her bra. His hands shook so violently he could barely hold on to the knife. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if trying to control the tremors through sheer force of will. Marlowe leaned forward, still pinioning Ariel's arms, and asked, “You okay, Sully?” Nodding, he answered, “Yes, yes, of course!” But then he dropped the knife and stepped away from her.

“Keep her here,” he barked at Marlowe. “I'll be back in a moment.”

While the Riflemen looked on curiously, Sullivan stepped toward the water's edge, facing the shallow strait that separated the peninsula from the mainland. His back was turned, but John saw him reach into the pockets of his jacket. From his left pocket he removed a syringe. From his right he pulled out one of the vials of Fountain.

A light went on in John's head. Now he knew why Sullivan insisted on wearing that heavy jacket in the rain forest. He needed the jacket so he could stash the syringe and vials in its pockets, and he needed to keep the protein close at hand because he was addicted to it. He probably got hooked before he started his rebellion, when Ariel tested Fountain on him. After the protein ran out, he must've gone into withdrawal, but he'd obviously craved the stuff ever since. He'd given himself an injection only an hour ago inside the cavern, and now he already needed another. And as Sullivan stood there at the edge of the river, pulling the stopper from the vial with trembling hands, John saw what had to be done. It was the only way.

With a ferocious twist he freed himself from Percy's grasp and started running toward Sullivan. The bastard was trying to hold the vial steady so he could dip the syringe's needle into the yellow fluid, and he was so intently focused on this task he didn't hear John coming. Marlowe yelled, “Hey!” and lunged to intercept him, but at the same time he let go of Ariel. She spun around and kicked Marlowe in the crotch, stopping him cold. Running past them, John lowered his shoulder like a linebacker and plowed into Sullivan, knocking him face-first into the river. The Fountain protein spilled out of the vial and spread across the water in a yellow smear.

Luckily, John kept his footing on the river's muddy bottom. Because his hands were tied behind his back, he would've had a hard time getting back upright if he'd fallen. He felt an urge to stomp on Sullivan's neck and pin him underwater, but he didn't have the time. Instead he left the bastard behind and waded as fast as he could across the strait. The water deepened as he reached the middle of the channel and soon it was up to his shoulders. He sloshed frantically forward, taking huge strides. Then he heard Sullivan's furious voice behind him.

“Go After Him! I want him alive!”

Within seconds John climbed out of the water and up the muddy bank on the other side of the strait. He didn't stop until he reached the high ground, twenty feet from the water's edge, and when he turned around he saw thirty men coming after him. Sullivan had picked himself up and ordered the Riflemen and guerillas to wade across the strait. Now everyone was in the water except for Marlowe and Comandante Reyes, who stayed behind to guard Ariel and the six women from Caño Dorado. While Sullivan paced along the riverbank, screaming orders at his men, Marlowe and Reyes stared across the strait at John. They were probably wondering why he just stood there instead of running into the rain forest. Taking advantage of their inattention, Ariel quickly bent over to pick up the pocketknife that Sullivan had dropped in the mud. Then she turned to Mariela and gave her a hand signal. A moment later all the women took a couple of steps backward, stealthily moving away from the water's edge.