“Her mother tried to talk to her,” the Mother Superior added. “Father Marcelle also tried. But she waits.”
“For what?” Soloman asked softly.
“Why don’t you go to her,” the old woman answered, “and ask?”
Deciding before he realized he had made a decision, Soloman took his rifle and moved casually across the room, smiling comfortably as he neared, finally sitting. He didn’t say anything for a long time, trying to comfort her with his presence alone as the minutes passed. When she finally spoke, her small, quiet voice almost startled him.
“I had a dream,” she said.
Soloman sensed her fear but didn’t comment. In her own time, he knew, and in her own way, she would tell him. She didn’t turn to him as she continued.
“It was a dog,” she said, eyes widening as if she could see it. “It was big, and black, and it was on a chain. It was chasing me through the woods in the dark.” She paused. “I ran as fast as I could but then I was too scared to run anymore, and then it caught me. I was trying to hide in the bushes, but it found me, and it was growling and coming to me. It stepped into the bushes to get me and then ... then you were there.” She looked up. “You were trying to save me, and you fought it. But the dog was stronger than you, and it hurt you. Then you grabbed it by its chain and killed it.”
Soloman felt a faint chill, watching the small face that looked so much older than it had seemed only two days ago.
“Then you picked me up and carried me home,” she said simply. “Do you ever dream?”
Slowly Soloman nodded. “Yeah,” he responded; he would not hide himself from such genuine affection. He had been hiding too long. “Yeah, I dream. A lot.”
“What do you dream about?”
“About ... I guess ... I dream about my little girl.”
|”Does she talk to you?”
“Yeah,” Soloman answered, not looking down again. “Sometimes she talks to me. But I always talk first. She comes to me. And she wants to be with me. But I’m too busy. I’m always trying to make a living, and things are really hard. And sometimes it’s like I’m on the edge of a cliff, and I’ve only got a few more feet to go. But that’s the hardest part of the climb. There’s nothing to hold onto. And the only thing that’s going to get me over the edge is my determination, my courage, my skill, or strength, or whatever.” He hesitated, as if he could see it. “I look down, and it’s so far to fall if I fail, and I’m just hanging there, trying to get the courage to make the last move. But I’m scared.” His face twisted. “And all she wants is to be with me – such a simple thing. But I don’t have time for her.”
Amy blinked, solemn.
“And she knows that I don’t have time for her,” Soloman added finally. “I can see the hurt in her eyes. But then she just smiles and says that she was only joking – or something like that. She says she’s got important things to do and runs off to play.” He wiped a corner of his eye. “I turn my back on her, and she just smiles like she forgives me – like it’s all right. And she doesn’t want much, really. She just wants us to be together. But I’m in this terrible situation, and I don’t know how to get out of it.”
Amy said nothing, and they were silent together. Then she reached over and laid a hand on his, not looking up.
“She knew,” she said quietly. “She knew.”
Grimacing, Soloman gazed over the basilica, finally releasing a deep sigh. Then he looked down again and wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders. “You’re a good kid,” he said with a curt nod. “You’re gonna be just fine.”
“Are you proud of me?” she asked.
He took a second.
“Yeah,” he smiled. “Like you were my own.”
***
Soloman checked with Malo every fifteen minutes as night finally submerged the basilica in darkness. He paced the floor, narrowly containing his agitation that something was terribly wrong and noticed that Amy, too, was becoming increasingly restless.
She fidgeted with this and that, refused to build Jacob’s Ladder with Mother Superior Mary Francis, and refused to eat. And as the child grew more and more nervous it fanned the flames of Soloman’s intuition. It was as if they shared some kind of secret knowledge of an unseen threat.
Shaking his head in frustration, Soloman radioed Malo again and again and the Delta lieutenant reported over and over that the scanners were stone-cold. But Soloman didn’t like it at all. There was something wrong, here. The adrenaline in his blood would not abate. He couldn’t relax. His eyes were sharp and focused, but there was no enemy in sight.
Finally Soloman walked to the front for another cup of coffee, still unable to place what it was. He noticed Amy coming up beside him, her face pale, almost white. She said nothing.
Soloman hesitated, sensing. “What is it, Amy?”
A silent stare: Fear.
Soloman lowered the coffee. “What is it, Amy?”
“I think he’s here,” she said in a voice of someone who counts herself already dead.
Eyes narrowing in concentration, Soloman lifted his rifle. He glanced around the basilica before kneeling in front of her, trying to sense what she sensed. “Why do you say that, darlin’?”
“I know him, Soloman.” Her conviction was complete. “I think he’s already here.”
Soloman straightened and ordered another perimeter check and every man responded that they detected nothing. There were no activations of motion detectors, and every heat sensors was negative. Then Soloman raised Malo and ordered a visual perimeter that also came back negative. But Soloman wasn’t satisfied. Fiercely he glared at the door and knew that, somehow, Amy was dead right.
Cain was already here.
Soloman didn’t know how and didn’t care; the alarming sensation that they were already in undeclared mortal combat made the decision for him. He keyed the A-unit: “Malo! Get down here! You’re flying Amy out of this place right now! Execute! Execute! Execute!”
“But Colonel, I—”
“Get down here!” Soloman shouted. “Cain’s already here!” He hustled Amy and Maggie toward the front door. “Both of you are leaving! Malo’s gonna fly you to another safe house!”
They reached the door as Malo came down the stone steps, moving quickly. He glared at Soloman as if he’d lost his mind. “How could he already be here?” he asked angrily. “He’d have to fly in to break that perimeter!”
“I don’t know,” Soloman answered as he pulled back the bolts on the door. “But I think she’s right. I think Cain is already here. I don’t know how, and I don’t care. But he’s already inside this place.”
Malo moved out the door, swinging the rifle, searching. He came into the courtyard where the Loach rested, and without hesitation he climbed into the seat, starting the rotors. In seconds the roar of the turbos dominated the night air, thundering over stone.
“Go!” Soloman pushed Amy and Maggie, searching high for any threatening image outlined against black ramparts. He still saw no threat, but his fear escalated second by second to an adrenaline rush. Whatever had ignited his instinct of danger was as confusing as the question of how Cain could have crossed that zone of destruction without tripping any—
“He’d have to fly in …”
Soloman turned, mouth opening in horror.
And knew.
Fear exploded as he stared a split-second.
Amy and Maggie were already belted into the Loach and Malo began to lift as Soloman raised the A-unit to warn him when it happened.
As the Loach rose Soloman saw the back panel of the helicopter explode before a terrific impact, and he moved, hurling the rifle aside as the chopper left the ground. Screams of horror erupted as Soloman leaped to narrowly catch a skid, grabbing with both hands as the chopper took him from the ground in a spiraling twist that wildly cleared the courtyard walls.
Soloman’s boots struck stone as they cleared the crest of the courtyard wall, and he heard Malo bellow, a shot fired. Then he glimpsed the door opening above him, and the big lieutenant was hurled into the night, an angry curse descending with him.
Soloman threw a leg over the rail as the Loach skimmed low over trees and knew Cain had taken control. He groaned with the savage effort required for climbing to the door and knew that Cain didn’t yet sense his presence. But time and night were flying past with such speed there was no time to contemplate anything more. He had to move, and fast.
Almost losing control in the final frantic effort, Soloman reached up to grasp the handle of the passenger door, heard Amy and Maggie screaming and realized no plan could cope with this, no plan at all. He had to pull a face-to-face, had to dare a savage throw-down inside a helicopter flying a hundred miles an hour twenty feet above trees, and with the thought he drew the Desert Eagle, ripping open the hatch.
Soloman dove into the Loach and was horrified even in the blinding speed as a fanged face whirled toward him with a bestial roar, glaring red eyes blazing in rage.
Throwing out a massive arm, Cain struck him into the back but Soloman got off a round as he was hit, the Desert Eagle plowing a .50-caliber round deep into the beast’s back, and then he was fast-firing through the pilot seat, ten slugs blasting into Cain’s torso and head.
Descending hard, the Loach soared amazingly through a stand of dead trees before Cain could correct the course, expertly raising the blades and axle to narrowly gain air. Then he reached out to grab Maggie, screaming and kicking, by the neck. He held her as easily as he would hold a doll, and Soloman quickly exchanged clips, leveling again.
“Enough, Soloman!” Cain roared. “Drop the weapon or she dies!” Soloman pressed the barrel hard against Cain’s temple. He leaned close, face-to-face, caught the stench of death.
“Tonight you’re not taking hostages!” Soloman snarled. “I’m not taking prisoners! So set it down, and we’ll settle it face-to-face!”
“You’re a fool!”
Soloman pressed the barrel harder. “I’ll have them die by my hand before they die by yours!” He wrenched Cain’s head. “So set this down or I’ll kill us all! You’ve got three seconds!”
Cain shook his head as he instantly angled the Loach, threading a narrow path between night-lit trees to find a landing zone as Soloman increased the pressure of the barrel.
No games now, no moves left to make. When this thing hit the ground Soloman would be in the last fight of his life and his mind scanned furiously for tactics. Then he saw a glade approaching, tall grass indicating solid ground. He tried to ignore the glaring knowledge that he’d just fired ten rounds into Cain and the giant wasn’t even fazed.
“You’re about to die, Soloman,” Cain growled. “Then I will kill your woman!”
Soloman decided every factor in a heartbeat. He knew that he had to wait until the chopper hit the ground or they would be dead. And as the skids settled on the edge his hand tightened on the grip of the Desert Eagle. He glanced down to ensure that the hammer was back, and as Cain stepped out, turning with murderous talons to grapple, Soloman fired to send a .50-caliber round directly into his forehead.
The tremendous concussion blasted the giant flat on his back, and Soloman instantly leaped into the pilot seat to hit the rotor controls, wildly lifting the Loach. He cleared the ground as Cain cursed and rolled, leaping with volcanic velocity to snatch a single skid.
The great weight caused the helicopter to tilt madly, sending them spiraling across the glade toward a solid stand of trees, and at the sight Soloman knew they were about to die now. He threw the chopper into a hard collective pitch, tilting all the rotors at once.
At the violent movement the Loach ascended in an almost vertical lift, angling narrowly to clear the branches by a breath, sending them into a roaring and violent night.
Snarling, Cain clung to the skid and began climbing.
He grabbed Soloman’s door to jerk it open, and Soloman took a desperate second to kick out, slamming him away from the cockpit again and again, again and again, kicking and kicking, wild with rage. And with each savage kick Soloman lost a measure of control, sending the Loach spinning. Yet he held altitude because he kept his hands on the tilt control and pitch, electrified by the fear that he couldn’t free his hands for a shot.
“Take my gun and shoot him!” he screamed at Maggie, and she instantly snatched the gun from his holster, aiming wildly over Soloman’s body. She pulled the trigger and the enormous concussion, so close to Soloman’s face, deafened and blinded him.
Stunned, he glared down to see Cain hit, blood erupting from his chest. And then Maggie emptied the rest of the clip as they sailed madly through trees and night, shells clattering in the madness of light and flame and noise to create an apocalyptic atmosphere in the helicopter.
There was nothing but battle here, Soloman knew. This was the place where courage ended, where madness ruled. The only way to survive was to become more savage than your opponent.
He threw the Loach into a downward tilt, aiming low for trees and in seconds felt the massive impact. The skid tore a dead limb to lift it into night. Rotors tilting at the collision sent dead limbs whirling over them. And with a downward glance Soloman saw—
Cain still there …
Ravaged and wounded, Cain’s face blazed with a wrath that made him seem utterly unconquerable. Eyes glaring at Soloman, he twisted savagely and slammed a hand into the cockpit, lifting himself. Knowing they were going to die if he didn’t do something desperate, Soloman swept in four feet above the swamp, slowing to a crawl.
He screamed at Maggie. “Get Amy and jump! Do it now! Do it now! It’s only four feet to the water!” He caught a frightful glance of Cain. “Hurry, Maggie! Do it now!”
Soloman was livid as he watched Cain’s horrifying climb.
Maggie didn’t hesitate at all.
As if understanding that it was their only chance, she reached back and snatched Amy in a single violent move, clutching her tight in her arms. And in the next second, to Soloman’s amazement, she threw open the hatch, and without a glance hurled both of them into the night, descending to the water.
Cain roared in demoniacal glee as he rose, climbing closer to Soloman and Soloman spun to glare at him, face-to-face.
For a single surreal instant they stared.
Cain laughed, red eyes narrowing.
He lifted a black-clawed hand to—
Soloman tore his hand from the rotor control to send the chopper into an oncoming impact with trees and snatched out the M79, slamming the barrel hard against Cain’s chest.
Cain’s eyes widened in shock.
“Die!” Soloman shouted.
And fired.
The horrific impact of almost two hundred double-ought rounds fired at once, so close in the cockpit, scattered everything with blood and hurled Cain back howling in pain, where he caught a skid. Wounded and raging, he reached up and began – incredibly – to ascend yet again.
The Loach was locked in a spiral toward the trees, and Soloman didn’t even try to correct the course. He saw the glistening blackness below and knew they were over the swamp. As the trees swept up in front of him, he released all control and dove out the passenger side, instantly meeting night as the helicopter descended with Cain clinging to a skid.
It hit a tree as Soloman hit the water.
Instantly the rotors shredded whatever they struck, a
nd in the next split-second the chopper exploded in a firestorm that hurled a volcanic blast over Soloman. He threw himself underwater to evade the molten wave of burning fuel. In a second the lava-like blast passed, and Soloman rose, stunned, staring in a daze at the crumbling wreckage.
He struggled to breathe in the superheated air, was amazed to find himself still alive, still holding the M79 in a tight fist. He searched for Cain, heard terrified voices shouting at him,
Amy and Maggie.
Both of them were calling frantically, but Soloman couldn’t take time to search, not yet. He stood in waist-deep water and wondered if Cain had been destroyed by the blast. Then he saw a humanoid shape horribly burning and disfigured struggling from the wreckage, a figure that stumbled and screamed as it fell toward the swamp.
Enraged beyond mercy Soloman opened fire on sight, throwing ten rounds at the form as it shambled clear of the burning Loach, and then Cain hurled himself into the water, evading the attack. Because of the darkness and the fire thrown from waving shadows, Soloman wasn’t sure of his aim, wasn’t certain whether he had hit it or not.
Night flew by in flame.
Then, a phantasmic and gory image, Cain rose from the burning black water as if unbound by Hell itself. Hideously ravaged, he glared at Soloman with singular intent and began walking forward.
“Damn,” Soloman whispered, shaking his head as he vengefully changed clips. “He really can’t die ...”
They glared hatefully at each other as Soloman quickly holstered the Desert Eagle. Then, turning, Soloman began slogging a path through the swamp. The basilica was outlined less than half a mile away, and Soloman didn’t need to turn to see whether Cain was pursuing.
Soloman knew he was pursuing them.
In seconds Soloman found Amy and Maggie, and they began moving together, Soloman holding the six-year-old tight in his arms through stagnant water that shallowed bit by bit as they frantically neared the building. And as they came to the wide stone entrance, they heard a shot fired from the tower, heard a wounded roar close by.
Thrilled to Death Page 82
