The Massacre Mechanism (The Downwinders Book 5) (15 page)

David opened
the door. “Will do,” he replied, hopping out. Winn watched as David exited and
closed the door, and then David surprised him by stopping to deliver a wide
grin through the window before walking back to his car.

Winn felt
surprise at his reaction to David’s smile, as the sliver of affection he’d
tamped down grew a little. It bothered him.
He’s what, six, seven years
younger than you?
he thought.
Forget about it.

But Winn
watched in the rear-view mirror as David walked back to his car.

▪ ▪ ▪

Even though
he’d blacked out his windows the best he could, there was still enough light in
the upstairs bedroom to make falling asleep difficult. Carma had made him a
special tea that she said would help him drift off without knocking him out,
but he couldn’t feel any effects from the tea, and instead just tossed and
turned.
This is becoming chronic,
he thought.
Maybe I’m an insomniac.

He was
trying to put the events of the past few days out of his mind, but they kept
replaying.
Deem’s marching to some kind of battle in Caliente,
he
thought.
The Fist of God and his deranged wives are about to kill someone in
town, probably another gifted, like David’s parents. And here I am trying to
sleep.

He tried to
think about something else; sex usually worked, it normally distracted his mind
enough that sleep could come. As he began to fantasize, he searched for some
recent exploit he could replay in his mind.
The waitress from North Vegas,
he thought, smiling, feeling himself become comfortably aroused, but not enough
to stop sleep from approaching. He enjoyed the memory for a while, changing the
details of the actual experience to something even more satisfying, feeling his
mind begin to drift.

Suddenly the
flash hit, jarring him from the edge of sleep. Another flash, then a series of
rapid flashes, all with his eyes closed.

More
symbols,
he thought.
Here they come.

He relaxed.
Deem’s
trying to communicate,
he thought.
You know how this works now. Just
relax and let them come.

And then
they started, a pattern of ciphers that he let replay over and over until he
was sure he had them down, shifting from left to right in his mind, glowing.

He opened
his eyes and looked for his backpack. Within moments he’d sketched the symbols
into his notepad. He looked at them, wondering if he should put on clothes and
go downstairs to translate them.

Last time
I waited too long,
he remembered.
I almost missed David at the airport. Do it now.

He stood up
and slipped into his jeans, then pulled on a t-shirt and headed downstairs
barefoot.

Carma was
nowhere to be found, but he located the mechanism on the shelf in the sitting
room.
She must have brought it back up from Lyman’s cave,
he thought,
walking to it and lifting it carefully. Its wheels were still turning, living
off the energy imparted to it by all the recent use.

He ripped
the page from his notebook and set it on the floor, positioning the mechanism
next to it as he had the previous times. Within moments it began to work, and
Winn watched as the dials on the side slowed to indicate the final differential
calculation. Then he reached out and grabbed the metal top of the contraption,
holding firmly.

He was
surprised how fast it happened. He was sitting on the dock of a long pier,
water surrounding him. He looked up; a thin roof had been constructed over the
pier, shielding him from the rain that was falling. He could hear it hitting
the shingles, and he could smell the damp wood.

In the
distance the moon was hanging over the horizon, but it wasn’t the moon. It was
pockmarked like the familiar orbiter he’d seen his whole life, but it wasn’t
round, it was ovular.

It looks
like a potato!
he
thought, mesmerized by the weirdness of it.

The sensation
of metal under his palm reminded him of his purpose. He glanced down and read,
watching as the symbols morphed into English and back again.

He released
the metal ball and felt himself pulled back rapidly, the nausea in his stomach
immediately rising, and he rose from the floor for a trip to the bathroom even
before he’d fully returned. He stumbled as he walked, slowly gaining a fuller
awareness of his surroundings, and managed to land on the tile floor of the
bathroom just as his stomach heaved. He positioned himself over the toilet,
expecting to lose the burger and fries. Nothing came up. After he dry heaved a
couple of times, he felt his stomach changing. The nausea was leaving, replaced
by hunger pangs.

He felt
confused, anxiety racing through his system. The translation was not something
he had expected, and it made him feel utterly alone:

Destroy
the mechanism.

He fell back
against the bathroom wall, trying to determine if somehow he’d misinterpreted
the message.

The words on
his notebook read as plain as day.
Maybe some other mechanism,
he
thought.

But he knew
that wasn’t what it meant.

▪ ▪ ▪

Deem assumed
her legs would be aching, but she felt no pain. They’d been walking for hours
over the dry terrain, pushing forward just as they had with the wagons before
the standoff with the Indians.

Not
Indians,
she
thought, though the thought wasn’t entirely hers.
Not Indians. Mormons.

Kate?
she heard, turning to see her sister,
Marion, trudging along beside her. Further to her right were other figures,
ghostly apparitions moving west along with them, and ahead by ten paces were a
group of men including her father.

My father
died,
Deem thought.
He is buried in St. George. The man ahead of me is
her
father,
Katherine’s father, Marion’s father.

Something’s
different,
Marion
said to her.

Yes,
Deem replied, unsure if it was her
speaking to Marion, or Katherine; perhaps a mixture of both.
We’re
resurrected, Marion. That’s what’s different.

Not
really resurrected,
Marion
said.
Not like Jesus. We have no bodies.

Our
bodies rotted in the earth many years ago,
Deem replied.
It’s our souls that have been
resurrected. That’s what’s different.

No, it’s
you,
Marion replied.
You’ve changed.

Deem wasn’t
sure how to respond; as she paused, the Katherine part of her rose and began to
communicate.
So have you, Marion. There’s something else inside you. I can
sense it.

It’s in
father, too,
Marion
replied.
Betty, Hubert, Don…all of them, they’re all different. Something
has infected them.

I
infected her sister,
Deem thought to herself.
Something else entered her, entered all of the
other people silently marching along with them: the souls from the soul cage.
She’s right to think they’re infected — they’ve been taken over by some of the
worst people ever imagined.

It’s very
angry,
Marion said.
I
hate how it feels.

Can you
keep it suppressed?
Deem asked.

Just
barely,
Marion
replied.
How about you? Don’t you feel it?

I do,
Deem lied, fearful for Marion even
though she’d known her for only a few hours.
Do you suppose we’ve got control
of it because of our gift?

Precisely
what I was thinking,
Marion
replied, giving her a slight smile.

Hurry up,
you two!
their
father called from ahead.
When we get to Caliente, we’re going to rip apart those
motherfucking bastards!

Coming Father!
Marion called back,
picking up her pace a little. She turned quietly to Deem.
That’s not him. He
would never speak that way.

It’s
what’s inside him, animating him,
Deem thought, realizing that all of the ghosts marching
along with her were filled with the bloodlust of the beings from the soul cage.
That, combined with the ghosts’ desire for revenge, was propelling them toward
something, toward some impending event. Paul had mentioned Caliente, as though
there was a plan. She searched herself, looking for any sense of compulsion.
Suddenly she saw the memory of Marion’s throat sliced in front of her, and her
father’s face destroyed by a bullet. Searing pain from the wound she received
returned, and along with it the most poignant desire to right the wrong
inflicted upon her family.

We’re
marching to Caliente for revenge,
she thought, knowing it was primarily Katherine’s thought,
not her own.
Lyman somehow fused the evil beings from the soul cage into
these people,
Deem reasoned,
combining their sadism and rage with the
wagon train’s justified desire for vengeance. I’m not like them, so Katherine
is left with just her revenge, which I can feel, pulling me forward. Marion
too. Although some horrible creature from the cage must be inside her.

So I
wound up inside someone who had the gift,
Deem thought.
What were the odds? Was it planned
that way?

Lyman’s
plan…when we reach our destination, what then?
she wondered.
These people are
ready to kill, they are potent combinations of rage and revenge. Who’s in
Caliente?

Then she
remembered the trip she made to Caliente a year earlier with Winn, trying to
locate Dayton during a meeting of his group. They used the old, closed church
building there. She became amused at the memory; how she and Winn thought
they’d track Dayton afterwards, but instead found themselves outsmarted by the
guy.

If we’re
walking to Caliente,
she wondered,
might it be to confront Dayton? Is this Lyman’s plan?

These
people will slaughter him and whomever he’s with,
she felt, glancing again around her,
sensing the same sadistic and evil beings she’d spent months trying to avoid in
the soul cage.

Lorenzo?
she called in her mind.
Are you
there, Lorenzo?
She desperately wanted to talk to her friend, the only one
she’d been able to speak with for so long. He would help her understand what
was happening, help her sort it out in her mind, keep her focused and not let
her despair.

No answer
came.

Who’s
Lorenzo?
Marion
asked.

Oh, no
one,
Deem replied,
returning suddenly to the rough terrain they were walking over.
She’s
gifted,
Deem reminded herself.
And she’s my sister. She’s likely very in
tune with Kate. Remember that.

That
wasn’t the man we met at the trading post?
Marion asked.
The one you talked with for so long?

Kate
answered before Deem could reply.
No, that was Mark.

Suddenly
Deem felt a deep desire to know who this Kate was, to explore the person she
was inside. There was some kind of divider, some type of membrane that
separated them, allowing Kate to come to the forefront at times, but which Deem
could easily push out of the way. Deem decided to ease up and allow Kate to take
center stage.

You liked
him,
Marion said.

He was
handsome but he seemed dull,
Kate answered.

Then who
is Lorenzo?
Marion
asked.
You were definitely thinking about him.

I don’t
know,
Kate replied.
I
don’t know any Lorenzo.

Marion went
silent for a moment. Deem could sense she was confused; her sister was responding
like a schizophrenic.

They shot
you,
Marion said.

You saw
that?
Kate asked.
You were still alive enough to see it?

I saw it,
Marion replied.
And I saw what they did to Father, too.

Something
terrible is inside him,
Kate said.
Someone horrible. It’s not our father, not completely.

I know,
Marion replied.
If I were to let
what’s inside me come out, I’m afraid I’d be a lunatic!

It’s the
same for all these people,
Kate said.
The whole party. They’re all possessed somehow.

And you?
Marion asked.