Realm of Shadows

by Eldon Farrell

  Wendy, Lynne, and Cole bunch together in the middle of the room joining Cummings in staring expectantly at the curtain. Seconds tick by feeling like minutes as breathes are held and nerves are drawn taut.

  The curtain sways slightly from some unseen breeze then falls still again.

  BANG!

  Wendy screams as they all jump in shock from the sudden loud thump outside the cafeteria door. Turning toward it they see Caleb hammering on the glass behind the barricade.

  His voice is muffled but they can make him out hollering, “Open the door! Let me in!”

  Cummings starts in that direction but is stopped by Lynne and Wendy both shrieking behind him. Years of experience tell him what has just happened. Before he even turns back around he knows that he has allowed the enemy to use a distraction to get the drop on him.

  Raising his pistol as he turns, his eyes widen at the deranged sight of a man leaping off the stage toward him. Even with one opaque eye the pair appears wild. His ravenous grin of crooked teeth is monstrous to Cummings as Heath falls through the air to land on top of him.

  The collision sends both men sprawling to the floor. Cummings immediately feels the sharp pain in his right forearm accompanied quickly thereafter by the sticky wet sensation of an open wound.

  Rolling away from Heath, he spies the blade still protruding from his arm. His pistol is nowhere to be found—having been knocked from his grasp by the jarring tackle.

  Screams of terror rip through the air from his female companions while banging on the glass increases in intensity.

  Pulling the knife out Cummings leers at his attacker, crouched a few feet away and poised to strike.

  Beginning to circle him slowly Cummings sneers, “You’re gonna be sorry you ever came to my island freakshow. I’m gonna make you bleed.”

  Heath’s grin becomes even wider. The gesture taunts Cummings. With a roar he lunges toward Heath. A trained soldier, Cummings knows how to handle himself in a fight. That said though, he’s hurt and bleeding and not as young as he once was.

  Heath sidesteps his attack while bringing his hand up into Cummings ribs—a knife hidden in the folds of his coat tears through Cummings clothes and skin.

  An arc of blood sprays out from the point of attack eliciting more screams. Cummings staggers once before collapsing in a heap at Heath’s feet—a sharp pain burning through his chest.

  Frantically punching the glass, Caleb desperately tries to get inside.

  Each blow widens the cracks but the safety webbing within the glass makes it unlikely he’ll ever be able to bust a hole through it wide enough to admit him.

  Rattling the door in its jamb he tries to force it open but the erected barricade holds it shut. Through the window he watches Cummings circling Heath and knows he hasn’t much time.

  Cummings will underestimate him. Heath will shred him and move on to the others.

  “Caleb!”

  Turning his head slightly he sees Chase and Hong hurrying down the hall toward him. “Why’d you run off like that mate? We need to stick together.”

  Throwing an elbow into the glass Caleb creates a new spider-web pattern but nothing more. Moving along the glass wall he peers in and tries to gain Cole’s attention.

  “I can’t break the safety glass,” he says, “I need the barricade torn down from the inside. Try to get Cole’s attention.”

  “Won’t that take too long mate?” Chase wonders, “Maybe we should forget the door.”

  “The Toymaker got in,” Hong points out, “How did he do it?”

  Not really listening, Caleb watches Cummings lunge foolishly at Heath. Pounding a fist on the window he sees the red mist spray upward from where Heath slices Cummings across the chest and then watches the General collapse to the ground.

  Time’s up.

  Angrily hammering the window he’s unable to draw anyone’s attention away from the sadistic creature that can barely be described as human.

  “Is safety glass bulletproof?” Hong asks.

  Chiding himself for not realizing this sooner, Caleb says, “Stand back,” as he draws Ling’s Glock and squeezes off two rounds that shatter the glass into a kaleidoscope of falling shards.

  The report is deafening.

  “You’re going to make me bleed?” Heath breathes inches from Cummings anguished face. “I. Like. That.”

  He presses a razor to his cheek, drawing a thin red line down his skin just as glass explodes behind them and the echo of gunshots fills the room.

  “Don’t fucking move!”

  Smiling down at Cummings, Heath slowly rises up and turns to look over his shoulder at Caleb aiming a gun right between his eyes.

  “I said,” Caleb repeats sternly, “Don’t fucking move! You move again and I will splatter your brains all over the wall.”

  Sticking the tip of his tongue out the side of his mouth, Heath licks at his fleshy lips saying, “At long last we meet Agent Fine. But you disappoint; bringing a gun along with you. Such an impersonal weapon,” he shakes his head adding, “After everything we’ve been through…I thought a more personal touch.”

  “This isn’t personal,” Caleb growls.

  “Really?” he doubts. Shifting his gaze to Lynne cowering beside Wendy in the middle of the room, Heath expresses, “Say it again, maybe you’ll believe it.”

  He takes a step away from Cummings prompting Caleb to shout, “Don’t move! You come any closer and I swear I will end you.”

  “You won’t,” Heath confidently states, “Not yet. Not with that. I know how personal this is for you. You ache to have your hands around my throat. You want to feel my life slipping away.”

  “Caleb,” Lynne cries out, “Don’t listen to him.”

  “Ah the voice of reason,” Heath continues, “My niece…your girl…we’re practically family. Whose side is she on though, hmmm? It must kill you to not know what we did together all that time.”

  Glancing over at her he hisses, “I know she didn’t tell you.”

  His eyes narrow and the veins on his neck stand out as Caleb balefully glares at the vision of his unending nightmare.

  In one fluid motion Heath removes a bloody Sai from within the folds of his tattered cassock. “You know what this is?” he asks showing Caleb the weapon.

  “Drop it!” Caleb orders “Do it! Do it now!”

  Ignoring him Heath explains, “This is what gutted your partner—went right through her like she was nothing.”

  Heath stares into Caleb’s fiery eyes and smiles calmly as he hisses, “Yesss. I see what you want to do to me. It’s poetic really,” he shifts gears saying, “Two FBI agents with one blade.”

  “You’re not that delusional Heath,” Caleb snarls, “You’ll never get close enough to use that. Now I won’t ask again; drop it.”

  “True, a Sai makes a wonderful close quarter’s weapon,” Heath moves in a blur unleashing the Sai toward Caleb, striking him in the shoulder it sends him reeling and the gun falling harmlessly out of the way.

  “But it’s also so much more than that. A wonderful distance weapon, wouldn’t you agree?”

  With unexpected quickness Heath closes the distance between them and drives a powerful blow straight into Caleb’s broken ribs. The air leaks out of him in a torrent of fiery pain as he falls backward to the floor.

  “Shame you came here injured,” Heath cogitates, “This could’ve been so much more fun.”

  Barely able to speak, Caleb manages, “well…who’s…fault…is that?”

  “I couldn’t make it too easy for you now could I?” Heath says as he places a boot on Caleb’s chest and presses down.

  “Arghhh!” Caleb groans.

  “Caleb!” Lynne screams as she rushes toward him only to be held back by Wendy’s embrace.

  “Ohh,” Heath scoffs over him, “How quaint; someone still feels for you.”

  “Hey asshole,” Chase slams a broken table leg against his head knocking him off of Caleb. “Give it a rest will you.”


  Touching his fingers to the side of his head they come away bloody and Heath turns his attention to Chase. “Not nice…hitting a man from behind.”

  “Yeah well, my heart bleeds mate. ‘Sides you ain’t exactly what I’d call a man.”

  Winding up Chase takes another swing with the table leg but this time Heath sees it coming and deftly shifts his weight out of the way. Grabbing Chase by the wrist, he drives a meaty fist into the side of his head staggering him and knocking the weapon from his grasp.

  Unsheathing a surgical knife from his belt, Heath plunges it deep into Chase’s lower back as the sound of Wendy and Lynne screaming pierces the air.

  Grimacing in pain, Chase can feel his knees giving out before Heath tosses him to one side. Fixing his hateful gaze upon a terrified Hong he just smiles and sniggers, “So much of what we call humanity is just frail weakness, wouldn’t you agree Caleb?”

  Slowly regaining his feet Caleb rises up like the mythical phoenix from the fires of defeat. Pulling the Sai from out of his shoulder he grinds his teeth as the blade slides out of his skin.

  “Leave them alone—it’s me you want remember? The personal touch,” he tosses the Sai to the floor where it clangs loudly, “Let’s do that. No guns and no blades either…just you and I as we are.

  “And,” half-smiling he adds, “You don’t know the first thing about humanity.”

  “You and I,” Heath hums, “Yes…I like that. It’s as it should be.”

  “Caleb no,” Lynne pleads in vain.

  The two warriors slowly circle each other—Heath moving with the determined gait of a predator stalking prey and Caleb staggering on unsteady legs fueled by rage.

  Waiting no longer, Heath grins and rushes his target. Preparing for contact, Caleb stiffens his posture and moves to take a swing. The effect of his injuries however slows his swing down enough for Heath to easily block it and drive another blow deep into his wounded side.

  Crying out, Caleb collapses in agony. Gasping and wheezing for air, he attempts to crawl away on his belly to buy himself precious time to recover.

  Standing over him Heath gloats, “Those ribs again hmmm?”

  “Leave him alone!”

  Lifting his head, Caleb sees the fear on Lynne’s face as the tears fall from her eyes—the sight serving as a catalyst to reinvigorate him.

  Reaching down Heath grips him by the shoulders and pulls him back up. But this time Caleb is ready and slams his forehead into Heath’s nose. Staggered, Heath releases him and stumbles back a few steps.

  Seeing his opening Caleb pounces. Putting everything he has left into one shot he drives his fist into Heath’s stomach. The blow bends him over, lifting him inches into the air before Caleb follows it up with a raised knee to his face that sends him sprawling backward to the floor.

  Enraged, Caleb straddles his chest, pinning his arms to the floor, and begins to rain blows down upon his head. The pent-up anger and frustration of months of fruitless searching and crippling failure is released in a fury of punches.

  Blood splashes up on him and bones break beneath his fists, but Caleb feels none of it. As Heath cackles inanely, Caleb pours it on, hammering away at his damaged face with no mercy.

  In a daze Caleb calls out the names of those he failed—those who haunt his dreams. “Donald Lincoln. Heather Quinn. Greg Tanaka. Jake Neubauer. Trina McBride. Theresa Trott. Montgomery Hicks. Mary Jane Martin. Noah Gracen. Stacy Vandenwier. Jefferson Moss.”

  “That’s enough,” Cole says.

  “Nicholas Talbot. Li Ling Tran. George Dore. Lawrence Clayton. Jeffrey Frazier. Tyler Edlund.”

  “That’s enough!” Cole grabs him by the shoulders and pries him off of Heath, who lies on the floor beaten and bloody.

  Coming back to the moment, Caleb reaches behind his back and retrieves a pair of handcuffs. Nodding to Cole, he steps back over to Heath and roughly rolls him over. Snapping the cuffs in place tightly around his wrists he makes the deranged killer kneel.

  Even cuffed and bleeding profusely Heath continues to cackle. With blood dribbling out of his mouth he rasps, “You think it ends with me?”

  Smiling a now gap-toothed grin he forewarns, “You think I’m the only one?”

  Collecting Ling’s Glock from where it came to rest, Caleb steps up to Heath, pointing the gun at his head. “I think it ends now,” he rumbles, “Right here. In cold blood—the way you lived is the way you’ll die. Almost poetic.”

  “Yeah,” Heath spits out a bloody tooth saying, “Do it.”

  “Caleb don’t,” Lynne appears by his side begging, “Don’t do this.”

  His hand starting to tremble, Caleb concentrates on keeping the gun steady as he turns his head toward Lynne in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be asking me to spare him? After what he’s done? The misery he’s caused?”

  Turning his head back to Heath, Caleb pitilessly states, “He doesn’t deserve to live.”

  “You’re right, he doesn’t.” Lynne pleads with him, “I’m not asking you to spare him; I’m asking you to save yourself. This is what he wants. This is what it was all about. He wants everyone else to be just like him.”

  Staring at Heath she spits out the words, “A killer. It’s why he refused to kill me even when I begged him to. He wouldn’t kill me because he wanted me to kill him. More than anything else he wanted me to do that—it’s why he gave me the knife.”

  Looking back at Caleb she says, “And when I failed to do it and he knew you were coming, it’s why he let me go, so I could be a pawn in his game to hurt you to the point where your hatred would drive you to kill him…to become just like him.

  “Don’t do it Caleb…don’t give him this. Don’t let him win.”

  Caleb gazes upon the smug face of the creature he’s pursued for so many months now. The creature that has tortured, maimed, terrorized, and butchered so many people.

  He spared few on his rampage. Men, women, and children held no distinction for him—they were just things to him—nameless and inhuman things to be used and discarded.

  “Why?” Caleb mumbles, “Why should he live when they didn’t?”

  “Do it,” Heath urges him; “You want to do it. I know you want to do it, so do it. Pull the trigger and realize your destiny.”

  Lowering the gun a scant inch, Caleb moves closer and throws a left hook into Heath’s jaw. Falling over to his right Heath continues to jeer.

  “No,” Caleb whispers, “You live long enough to have a needle jammed in your vein. Then you die.”

  “No…” Heath begins to protest, “It won’t end like this. Kill me now or you’ll live to regret it.”

  Placing the gun against his right patella, Caleb says, “You like suffering so much, then suffer.” Pulling the trigger he sends a bullet ripping through his knee before pointing it at his left knee and doing the same.

  At last the smirk is wiped from Heath’s leering countenance as he contorts in agony and rage. Screaming obscenities at him, Caleb just turns away declaring, “You’ll live.”

  Setting the Glock aside, he turns to Lynne offering her a weak smile before his injuries overcome him and he collapses into her arms. In the warmth of her embrace he shuts out the horrors of the night and awaits the coming of a new dawn.

  Chapter 48

  August 25

  There is nothing in this world like the morning after a storm. The air is crisp and clean, as if all the impurities it once held have been washed away.

  The day after offers the hope of new beginnings and the promise of change, though it is tempered by the dichotomy of the long road that lies ahead.

  Standing alone outside the Academy, Caleb watches as a sliver of light breaks through the clouds on the horizon. The new day has come and the damage is severe.

  Like most places that find themselves in the path of a hurricane, Hope is forever changed. With a little effort and a lot of work, the surface damage can be repaired but the place will never be the same.

  The memories of t
he night will linger in the collective consciousness of those who live here and those who remained here. The night Fiona exacted a terrible vengeance on this sleepy village has left scars not so easily painted over.

  With his feet at the edge of the steep cliff face that he climbed up only hours ago with Ling and George, Caleb gazes out to sea. It is calm now in the wake of the tempest that ravaged it. Through the morning mist he spies a flotilla of boats motoring for the island—help will arrive soon.

  Though it’s unlikely he can be seen, he waves to them anyway before turning around and heading back to the Academy. Before they get here he has one final task to attend to.

  “Can we talk?”

  Cole opens his eyes at the sound of her voice. Sitting up, he rubs at his face while remaining wary of Lynne standing so close to him.

  “Can I sit?” she asks.

  His eyes quickly dart around the room, soaking in the subdued atmosphere. By the stage, Chase and Cummings nurse their injuries through fitful slumber while by the kitchen, Wendy and Hong doze uneasily.

  Ryan Heath—the cause of so much of their misery—is restrained in the gloom beneath the mezzanine, his hands cuffed behind his back and his legs lashed to the solid steel frame of a table.

  Caleb is nowhere to be seen in his circuit of the cafeteria, leaving him alone with Lynne. Nodding slightly he shifts imperceptibly further away as she sits down beside him.

  “I won’t ask you to forgive me for what I’ve done,” she begins, “I know I can’t ask for that. But I need you to understand something—to hear what I say and accept it as truth. Can you do that?”

  Clearing his throat, Cole states, “I’m listening.”

  “I’ve no doubt that I didn’t know Nick as well as you did…but I did know him.” She looks intently at him saying, “He adored you. You were his idol.

  “When we were alone…he would go on about you. He shared so many stories with me about how great of a reporter you were and how one day he would be too just because he had you for a friend.”