The Massacre Mechanism (The Downwinders Book 5) (20 page)

Winn took a
couple of steps closer so he could see the body Lyman had chosen: it was
Dayton. He turned to look at David, who was standing next to him, staring down
at the man. David’s face was expressionless as he contemplated what Lyman had
just done.

Winn dropped
from the River, and Lyman’s personage faded to an indistinct white smear, which
drifted rapidly away, deeper into the chamber.

“He killed
him,” David said.

“He released
the maggots,” Winn said, looking back down at Dayton’s body. “They’ll kill
him.”

“Same
thing.”

“He deserved
it,” Winn said, waiting for a reply from David, which didn’t come. He looked up
from the body to see David standing over it, still expressionless, staring down
at the man who ordered the murder of his parents. Winn wanted to say more, but
he wasn’t sure that David needed or wanted to hear anything else.
He did
deserve it,
Winn thought, confirming his feelings.
I hope however the
maggots kill him, it’s painful.

After a few
moments David turned from Dayton’s body.

“Come on,”
Winn said. “I’m tired and we still have to drop off the trailer before we go
home.”

They left
the cave, squeezing through the thin entrance and making their way back to
Winn’s Jeep. The first signs of a change in the night sky were beginning to
show in the east as they made their way back to St. George.

▪ ▪ ▪

“How are you
feeling?” Winn asked Deem the next morning as they sat around Carma’s breakfast
table. It was closer to lunchtime than noon, but everyone had slept in, including
Deem.

“I feel one
hundred percent,” Deem replied, reaching out to grab Warren’s hand. Winn felt
David’s knee poke at him under the table, which Winn took to be David wanting
to be sure Winn didn’t miss Deem’s gesture.

“Good,”
Carma said from the head of the table. “More croissants?” She lifted the
considerable pile of pastry on the platter in front of her, passing it to Deem,
who took another one and passed the platter along.

“I have to
admit, Carma, I’m a little miffed with you for not telling us about Warren,”
Winn said. “You and Lyman keep too many secrets.”

“Lyman felt
that if Warren’s activities were going to remain undetected,” Carma replied,
“it was essential that Dayton pick up on animosity between you and Warren in
the event of some kind of confrontation. There wasn’t a good reason to tell you
that he was really helping us out.”

“A good
reason,” Winn repeated, chewing his food. “This is what I’m trying to balance,
Carma. Lyman’s plans seem to work out in the end, but I feel left out of the
loop while they’re happening.”

“As I’ve
said a million times, you just need to trust him,” she answered. “He has
everyone’s best interests at heart.”

“The Dark
River stuff, that’s intriguing,” David said, only to find Carma slamming down
her silverware. Winn saw David look up at her; she had a stern countenance.

“I wish you
wouldn’t say that,” Carma replied, measuring her voice carefully, trying to
backtrack from the sudden moment of drama she’d created with her cutlery. “Tell
me you washed according to my protocols?”

“Yes,” Winn
replied. “We washed just as you instructed.”

“Good,” she
said. “We can’t be too careful when it comes to that place.”

“You mean The
Dark River?” David asked, still confused by her reaction. Carma pulled back as
David said the words, as though he’d thrown spit balls at her.

“That
place,” Carma said, “is abhorrent. I would much prefer it if you didn’t bring
it up. It’s a sick and twisted world, and I’ve seen it destroy too many
people.”

“But Lyman
obviously goes there,” David pressed. “He uses what’s there to accomplish his
goals.”

Carma’s head
was bobbing as David spoke, dodging David’s words as though they were bullets.
“Lyman’s business is Lyman’s business. I can’t control that.”

“You don’t
approve of his involvement in The Dark River?” Winn asked.

Again Carma
physically reacted to the two words when they came out of Winn’s mouth. “No, I
don’t. Decent people don’t. Lyman made the decision to involve himself with
the…with that place…years ago, and he knows I disapprove. I don’t like it at all.
I don’t even like the traces of it that wind up coming home on the soles of
your shoes.”

She raised
her butter knife and pointed it at each of them as she spoke. “Listen to me.
Just because Lyman goes there, don’t any of you, even for an instant, consider
it! You’ll be lost. You’ll degenerate and never come back. I’ve seen it again
and again. People say ‘I’ll just go there to explore’, or some such nonsense,
and next thing you know, they’re in a coma. Lyman is a wise old ghost who knows
his way around and has made a deliberate choice to involve the Dark…to involve
that place and the degenerate things that come from it as weapons in his fight.
But for the rest of us, trust me, you don’t have the willpower to resist what
it will do to you. Promise me you won’t go there. Promise me right here and
now.”

She moved
her butter knife around, pointing at them one by one, eliciting an “I promise”
from each until she was satisfied. Winn could tell David’s promise was half-hearted,
and that he wanted to continue talking about the Dark River, but had decided to
table the subject for now.

“What will
happen to Dayton?” Warren asked. “He’ll die?”

Carma
shuddered. “Those infernal maggots!” she said, shaking her head. “I wish he
would stop experimenting with them.”

“They’ll kill
him?” Warren asked. “Dayton?”

 “Soon,”
Carma replied. “I understand he’s in a coma and his family has moved him into
the hospital. Horrible way to go.”

Which
hospital?
Deem wondered.

“What about
the other men, Dayton’s team?” Warren asked.

“They’ll suffer
different fates at random times over the next year,” Carma said. “It won’t be
long and they’ll all be gone.”

A quiet
heaviness hung in the air as they considered the effects of Lyman’s plan.

“Well, I
say, congratulations, Lyman!” Winn said, raising his coffee mug. “He took them
all out, and he did it in style. A huge victory, beyond what any of us could
have concocted or pulled off. I’m impressed. And I’m glad the bastards are
gone. Or going.”

“Language at
the table!” Carma chided.

“It’ll leave
a huge gap in local church leadership,” Warren said.

“They’ll
send someone down from Salt Lake to make replacements,” Carma replied, “like
they always do. Lyman’s got a plan to influence the process, already in play. Hopefully
no gifteds this time. Things were so much better when the local leadership
wasn’t made up of gifteds.” She paused. “No offense, Deem.”

Another
moment of silence.

“We’re going
to Caliente this afternoon,” Warren said. “Want to come?”

“Back to
Caliente?” David said. “Not so sure I want to go back there anytime soon.”

“Why are you
going?” Winn asked.

“There was
something there,” Deem replied. “When I was inside Kate, I saw a man run to a
room there, at the very end of the motel. He went inside, and I followed him.
He was gone when I got there, and I couldn’t see how he left. Then Lorenzo
began to talk to me, and he told me there was something important about the
room. I wasn’t able to figure it out at the time, so I need to go back.”

“Sure, I’ll
go,” Winn said, kneeing David under the table. “David will come too.”

David had
been in the middle of a sip of coffee, and he jumped when he felt Winn’s knee.
He finished his drink, and as he pulled the cup away, said, “Uh, sure. I guess.”

“You be
careful,” Carma said. “You’re well insulated from the events of last night.
Don’t make yourselves targets by having a spectacle at that motel today. Keep
things quiet.”

“We’ll be
very subtle about it all,” Warren said. “We won’t draw any attention.”

Winn looked
up at Warren. Learning that he’d really been working on their side for the past
few months had come as a shock; Warren was able to maintain a solid false
front, and he found himself admiring the guy a little.

Deem’s hand
was still wrapped around Warren’s at the table, and Winn realized Deem’s admiration
for Warren had returned as well.

Deem walked
through the hospital hallway. Ahead was a nurse’s station, where she stopped. A
young woman looked up at her.

“I’m trying
to find President Dayton’s room,” Deem said.

“Are you
family?” the woman asked.

“Yes, I’m
his niece,” she lied, knowing the nurse wouldn’t tell her what she needed to
know if she didn’t.

“Just moved
to room 5C, down that hall, on the left,” she said, pointing.

“Can you
tell me what’s wrong with him?”

“He’s in a
coma,” the woman replied, trying to contain her emotions. “That’s all we know.
Such a loss to the community.”

Deem forced
a small smile and said “thank you” before turning to walk to Dayton’s room. She
was expecting to see dozens of family gathered, but was surprised to find the
room empty except for a body lying on the bed, and a nurse, who looked up at
her and smiled weakly.

“Just moved
him in here,” she said. “Are the others behind you?”

“Others?”
Deem asked.

“The other
family members?” the nurse said. “We moved him to this bigger room so it could
accommodate you all. And it’s nicer.”

“No, I came
on my own,” Deem said. “But thank you.”

“I should find
them and let them know,” she said. “We’ll get all his flowers moved from the
other room, too.” She hurried out.

Deem realized
she’d only have a moment with Dayton before the room would flood with family
and well-wishers. She stepped to the side of the bed.

Tubes came
from his nose and mouth, and machines on either side of him displayed graphs and
numbers. As she looked down at his face, she felt an instant of sorrow for the
man; he was pale, looking like a corpse. She wondered which of her fellow wagon
train members had sliced into him at the motel, and the damage they had done to
him. She considered what the maggots were doing to his system. Pity welled up
in her.

Then she
stopped, remembering how he’d threatened to excommunicate her as a way of
silencing her. How he’d threatened her. How he’d ordered the death of Claude
Peterson. Of David’s parents.

I don’t
feel sorry for you,
Deem
thought.
You’re a horrible man who’s done horrible things. I just had to
come, to see you one last time. To see you as you go down.

Suddenly one
of the machines began to alarm. A nurse rushed into the room, soon joined by
another.

“What’s
happening?” Deem asked, stepping back.

“You’ll need
to leave the room,” the nurse said.

As Deem
backed out, two more nurses arrived, pushing a cart loaded with equipment. Once
they were inside the room, the door closed, but not before she heard one of the
nurses clearly say “cardiac arrest.” She could hear their muffled talking
through the door while they worked on Dayton.

Cardiac
arrest,
Deem
thought.
Just a heart attack. People have them all the time. Well done,
Lyman.

She turned
to leave, and as she walked down the hallway, a large group of people carrying
balloons and flowers approached. She recognized Dayton’s wife in the crowd.
They were making their way to Dayton’s new hospital room. Deem could see
worried looks on their faces.

They
don’t know about the heart attack yet,
Deem thought.
It just happened. They’re going to find out
in a minute when they reach 5C.

She passed
them, avoiding their gaze. None of them seemed to notice her; they just pressed
on, en masse, making their way to Dayton.

If I feel
sorry for anyone,
Deem thought,
it’s them.

▪ ▪ ▪

Winn pulled
his Jeep onto the side of the road behind the motel, and the four of them piled
out. From the back, the motel looked even dingier than it did from the front,
with a series of small, highly-placed bathroom windows, interrupted by jutting
air conditioners.

Deem led the
group as they walked toward it. Once they crossed onto the property, she turned
to look to her right, at the room where she and Marion had first entered and
witnessed the ghostly bloodbath.

“What
happened, exactly?” Warren asked.

“Marion and
I were there,” Deem said, pointing. “We were inside that room. They were
slashing at the men in the beds, and I remember wanting to leave, so I turned
and came out…”

She walked
to the cement sidewalk that ran in front of the rooms, retracing her steps.
Winn turned to look behind them — no one was out, and the office looked empty.
Everyone’s
inside, trying to avoid the heat,
he thought.

“He was
running this way,” Deem said, walking the path she’d followed the night before.
“He kept going, and I followed him. I’m not sure why; I knew I wasn’t going to
attack him like the others, but there was this sense that he might get away,
and I didn’t want that to happen.”

She turned a
corner and reached a small section of rooms at the end of the L-shaped motel.

“He moved
like he was running for his life,” Deem said, still following him in her mind.
She came to the last room and turned to look at it.

“This isn’t
right,” she said.

“What isn’t
right?” Warren asked.

“He ran to
the last room and he went inside,” she replied. “This is the last room, but
this wasn’t the one he went into.”

She walked
past the room, where the sidewalk came to an end and the asphalt of the parking
lot took over.

“It was
here,” she said, standing beyond the motel.

“There’s
nothing here,” Warren replied. “Are you sure it wasn’t one of these rooms on
the end?”

Winn walked
around them to the spot Deem had identified. He felt his stomach rumble slightly,
and wondered if the large breakfast he’d just eaten at Carma’s was settling
alright. “Here?” he asked Deem. “Where I’m standing?”

“It looked
just like a regular room,” Deem said, walking back to the last motel room on
her right. “But I know it wasn’t this room, here…this stretch of rooms was
longer.”

David turned
to Winn. “She was in a different state when she saw it,” he said.

“That’s what
I’m thinking,” Winn replied, placing a hand on his stomach, suddenly worried he
might become ill.

“What’s
wrong?” Deem asked, seeing Winn’s face turn white.

“I think I’m
going to throw up,” he said, turning to walk away from them to a spot of dirt
past the parking lot. He bent over to heave, and remembered the feeling he’d
experienced just the day before, hunched over the toilet after having time
shifted using the mechanism.

Same
feeling
, he thought,
the need to vomit subsiding. The others were still standing near the motel,
allowing him some privacy; he raised and turned to face them. “I’m OK,” he
said. “It passed.”

As he walked
back to them, the nausea returned, and he went down to his knees. Breakfast
came up.

David was at
his side within seconds, a hand on his back. “You OK?” he asked.

Winn spit,
looking down at what he’d upchucked. “Yeah, I’m not sick. It’s like the time
differentials.”

“Time
differentials?” Deem asked as she and Warren approached.

“Yeah, same
feeling,” Winn replied. “Oh, that’s right, we didn’t explain to you about the
mechanism.”

She turned
to look at Warren. He gave her a shrug in reply.

Winn walked
off the asphalt to the sidewalk that surrounded the city block. Once he crossed
onto the cement he felt the nausea subside, and waited while his stomach
settled. “There, that’s better,” he said, his hand leaving his stomach. “It’s
just when I’m standing there, where you thought the room was, Deem. I feel fine
here.”

“What
mechanism are you talking about?” Deem asked.

“It used to
reside on the mantle in your house,” Winn replied. “I used it to decipher
messages I thought were coming from you.”

“Coming from
me?”

“While you
were out,” Winn continued. “They weren’t coming from you, we know that now. To
read the messages, I had to perform a small time shift. I wanted to throw up
like that every time I used it.”

“Where is it
now?” Deem asked.

“The device?”
Winn replied. “It’s at Carma’s. I think we should go back and get it, and see
if it can detect what is here.”

“Then the
room
is
there,” Deem said, turning to look back at the empty spot of
asphalt at the end of the motel.

“I think it
might be,” Winn replied.

▪ ▪ ▪

Winn watched
from the driver’s seat as Warren and Deem walked into the 7-11.

“I didn’t
think I’d ever say this,” Winn commented to David, “but it’s good to see her refilling
her Big Gulp. I kinda missed it the past few months.”

“I know what
you mean,” David replied. “I’m not sure I’m 100% on Warren just yet, though.”

“Give him
some time,” Winn replied. “We thought he was the enemy for so long, it’ll take
a while for that to shift.”

Winn watched
as Deem and Warren emerged, a large Big Gulp in Deem’s hand and a smile on her
face. They were holding hands.

“They hold
hands a lot,” David said.

“Yeah,” Winn
replied. “That’s OK, too.”

▪ ▪ ▪

It was much
later in the day when they finally arrived back at the motel, and a few cars
had begun to dot the parking lot.

“This looks
a little weird, all of us standing like this,” David said as the four of them
stood on the sidewalk next to the back of the motel, circling the mechanism.
Winn held it in his hands, and Deem had her hand raised above the round metal
ball on the top of the device, ready to lower onto it. “Let’s do it quick and
get it over with before someone notices.”

“Warren, be
ready to grab her if anything happens,” Winn said.

Deem looked
up at Winn. “I’m gonna collapse?” she asked.

“You might
feel like throwing up when you come back,” Winn replied. “Then you’ll be
starving.”

“How long
does it take?” she asked.

“It only
lasts a few seconds,” Winn replied, “then you’ll be pulled back. It’s very
strange. Some things are the same, but other things are completely different,
so don’t freak out.”

“As long as
the room is there,” Deem replied.

“This thing
recognizes it,” Winn said, looking down at the collection of slowly spinning
gears. The display had settled on a series of symbols and numbers. “It’s set on
a differential. It’s ready.”

Deem looked
around at the three men. “Here goes!” she said, and lowered her hand to the
metal knob.

▪ ▪ ▪

Deem?

Someone was
calling her name. It was very faint and seemed like miles away. She stopped and
turned.

There was
the room, tacked onto the end of the motel like it had always been in that
exact spot for decades. She turned again, expecting to see the menagerie of the
other night, figures moving in and out of the rooms, butchering the sleeping
occupants. No one was there; all the cars were gone.

She paused
for a moment to watch Highway 93, the main drag through town on which the motel
was situated. It looked abandoned, with large potholes and weeds growing
through cracks in the pavement.

She walked
to the room, grabbing the door’s handle. Small nail holes in the door marked
the spot where a number had once been placed. It looked long gone, and she
couldn’t detect what the number had been from the small punctures.

She pushed
the door open, and the voice came again.

Deem?

Lorenzo?
she called back, but no reply came.

No, not
Lorenzo,
she
thought, walking into the room.
Lorenzo’s not here this time. He’s not in
this…what did Winn call it? A differential?

She looked
around the room; it seemed exactly as she’d witnessed it the other night. It was
still freshly made and ready for use.

Something
important is here,
she thought, remembering Lorenzo’s words. She stepped around the bed, examining
details, looking for anything unusual.

No bags,
she thought, turning to look at the
television and the dresser.
No one’s here.

She walked
to the bathroom. It was small and old, with a round toilet and a ceramic sink
attached to the wall, held up by two thin chrome legs. Beyond was the shower,
the curtain pulled back. A faint dingy ring rested in the bottom of the tub. To
her right was a small window with a twist handle, only big enough to let in
air.