by Bryan Davis
He picked up the bag. A gray key lay underneath. He snatched the key and set the bag back in place. The key was the same size as the first one, but would it prove itself?
As he rose, he averted his eyes. A flash lit up the room. When he looked again at the key, it glowed with an orange hue. This was the sign. It had moved out of the “sphere of influence,” whatever that meant. With the first key, he had to hurry out of the church, so it was impossible to determine the boundary of that sphere. Maybe this would be a good chance to learn what sort of influence kept the key from glowing.
Matt attached the key to the ring at his belt. Crouching again, he reached into the pail and began untwisting the metal tie. With every turn, something pinched his gut. Danger? No. Something different.
He dropped the tie and spread the top of the bag. A baby’s tiny body lay curled inside, no bigger than his hand.
Matt sucked in a breath. The stench burned in his nostrils and tightened his throat. Nausea churned. Bile leaked into his mouth, but he swallowed it down.
Trembling, he lifted the baby’s petite arm and closed his thumb over the perfectly formed hand. So soft. So delicate. The picture of perfect innocence, torn from a mother’s womb and tossed into a waste can. Human trash.
Matt shot up and backed away. The lid fell closed. The ringing of metal on metal hammered against his skull. Heaving shallow breaths, he looked around the room—a disposal area, a garbage dump.
Anger burned. Dark spots flooded his vision. Have no use for something? Throw it in the trash! Used band-aids, banana peels, and babies!
The room began to spin. He staggered to one of the refrigerators and grabbed the handle to keep from falling. What else might these demons be hiding?
He opened the door. Two plastic bags fell out, the same size and shape of the one in the pail. At least twenty more had been crammed into the refrigerator, each one labeled with a date.
Matt’s heart pounded. He tried to breathe, but his throat locked. Gagging, he stumbled toward the door. It opened. Mom appeared, her eyes wide. She rushed in, threw her arms around him, and guided him to the hallway.
The moment he crossed the boundary, his throat loosened. He sucked in fresh air, trying to stay as quiet as possible. “Mom . . .” He swallowed. “Mom . . . I . . .”
“Take your time,” she whispered as she patted him on the back. “My room was just an examination room. I didn’t find anything important. No key.”
“I found the key.” Matt swallowed again, but he couldn’t avoid a lamenting squeak. “And I found dead babies.”
Her cheeks flushed bright red. “Dead babies?”
His breathing stayed fast and shallow. “In bags. In a pail. In a refrigerator. A bunch of them.”
“I knew this was an abortion clinic, but I didn’t know we’d find dead babies.” A growl rumbled in her voice. “Tamiel knows how to make my heart bleed.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Do?” Mom asked. “You got the key. What else do you have in mind?”
He clenched a fist so hard, it shook. “We can’t let them keep killing babies here. It’s madness. It’s murder.”
“Of course it is, but this happens all over the world every single day, and what have we done about it? Protest? Vote? Write letters? Sure, but nothing ever happens. The butchers keep killing babies, and the politicians ignore us.”
“That’s because they haven’t held a dead baby’s hand.” Matt spotted the door leading to the office. “Darcy asked for a sign when I found the key. Well, I’m going to give her one.”
He stalked to the door, flung it open, and grabbed a desktop computer. Jerking the wires and cords, he hoisted it to his shoulder and flung it through the window. Glass shattered. Shards rained over a flowerbed outside. The computer landed on the sidewalk and slid to a stop.
Rage stormed within. A jagged dark frame pulsed around every object in the room. He threw a filing cabinet over, then another. File folders scattered across the floor. Papers spilled and flew everywhere.
The nurse ran in and screamed, “What are you doing? Get out!”
Matt picked up an armful of files and tossed them into the air. “I’ll get out when I’m finished.”
“I’m calling the cops.” She picked up a phone and punched in 911.
“See if I care!” Matt scanned the room. Another computer hummed against the wall. Nearby, a printer slid out a page. “Where’s the circuit breaker box?”
“You think I’m crazy?” She turned to the phone. “Hello? I need the police.”
“I’ll find it myself.” Matt stormed into the hall.
Darcy caught his arm and held on. “Matt!” He pulled her along for a second, but she set her feet, halting him. “You have to I” stop!”
Red-stained spots flooded his vision. “Why should I? They murder babies in this place!”
“I know they do.” She slid a hand into his, interlocked their thumbs, and looked into his eyes. “Matt. Listen to me.” Her voice purred, soft and soothing. “We need you. Any minute, the police will show up, and they’ll haul you to jail. Then where will we be? Do you want your mom and me to face Tamiel’s other five doors by ourselves?”
Matt’s inner heat ebbed. Darcy’s watery eyes seemed to douse the flame.
Mom joined them and took his other hand. “We have to go.”
His head spinning again, Matt nodded and followed their lead outside. When they reached the sidewalk, he pulled away. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”
Mom half closed an eye. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” He looked back at the broken window and the nurse still talking on the phone. “We’d better haul out of here.”
Mom pulled a motel key from her backpack. “Darcy and I will get our stuff while you start the car. Pull it right up to our room.”
While Mom and Darcy jogged across the street toward their motel room, Matt angled toward the parking lot. A siren drew close, maybe just a mile away. When the police arrived, it would take at least a minute for the nurse to tell the story, so they might have time to sneak away, but it would be close.
As he ran, the two keys on the ring clinked together. Tiny sparks flew at the contact point, as if electrified, but they didn’t seem to cause any damage to each other.
He jumped into the Mustang, started it, and drove slowly toward the room. When they arrived the night before, the lot had been packed, forcing him to park pretty far away. Now only five or six cars remained—plenty of space.
He parked parallel to their room’s door, popped the trunk, and jumped out. Just as he reached for the knob, the door flung open. Darcy charged out with one suitcase, and Mom followed with the other. “You prepaid with the credit card,” Mom said as she breezed past. “Let’s go.”
Mom and Darcy threw the suitcases into the trunk. Matt closed the motel room door and hopped into the driver’s seat, while Mom slid into the front passenger’s seat and Darcy jumped into the back.
Matt drove to the street. At the clinic, two police officers stood at the front doorway, one taking notes on a pad while the nurse talked. Matt drove slowly onto the road in the opposite direction. His heart thumped hard. Would the police notice? Give chase?
Now that his rage had subsided, questions surged. Did he have the right to ransack that place? Definitely. After all, it was a house of murder. But a soldier should never lose his cool, never stray from discipline, no matter how noble the motivation. He had probably forced that clinic to close for a day or two. They would use their blood money to clean up the mess and be back to killing babies all too soon. What had he done but make a huge mess and risk their freedom to complete their mission? Still, he had sent a message. Murder brings wrath. But was that enough of a reason to deliver that wrath himself?
He sighed. Too many questions and not enough answers. And with the third door on the horizon, another avalanche of questions would soon bury him.
* * *
> “Lauren, this is Lois. I have a report for you.”
Lauren shook herself out of a light doze and touched her jaw. “Yes, Lois. I’m here.” Lying curled on her side and covered by a blanket, she glanced around. The church’s portico still provided shelter, though it couldn’t keep out a chilly breeze. Roxil was nowhere in sight. “What’s the report?”
“Marilyn Bannister sent an encrypted message to one of our cyber mailboxes. I ignored it at first, because it was not marked properly as being from her and Jared, but when I went back over the mailboxes again, I found that she made a simple typing error and—”
“It’s okay, Lois. No need to explain.” Lauren sat up and draped the blanket over her back. “Just tell me what the message says.”
“Matt is being accompanied by his mother and a young, auburn-haired woman. We have reason to believe that the woman is Semiramis posing as Darcy, Matt’s former foster sister. Marilyn believes she could be a potential betrayer or perhaps is accompanying them simply to gain information.”
“And I suppose Matt doesn’t know who she really is.”
“Nor do we. It is only a theory.”
“This is getting really complicated.” Lauren pulled the cell phone from her pocket. “Lois, I’m going to read more addresses to you from that phone we found. The address Matt was supposed to go to this morning was too far away for us, but maybe you can tell us where we can intercept him by dragon flight.”
“Very well. I am ready.”
Lauren pulled up the list and read the addresses for doors three, four, five, and six out loud. “The seventh one just has a note saying it’s missing, so I guess that one’s a bust.”
After a few seconds, Lois spoke up again. “When I include the address you provided last night as well as the church’s where you are now, the six together create an interesting pattern, a rough circle. Matt’s course will take him back toward your current location eventually, which means that the sixth address is the closest.
“If you fly there, you will intercept him easily. If you wish to do so earlier, the fourth address is within reach. Assuming high motivation will cause Roxil to fly twenty percent faster than usual and require fifteen percent less rest than recommended, you should be able to arrive at address number four sometime tomorrow, but that does not mean that you would arrive while he is still there. You could expend much energy and miss his presence by mere moments.”
“What about number five?”
“It is an outlier from the circle, making it the same distance as number four. You could choose to fly toward number six and adjust to navigate toward one of the other addresses if we learn more about Matt’s location and determine that a change of course is reasonable.”
“That sounds perfect.” Lauren slid the phone away. “Can you guide Roxil on the best course to number six?”
“Since I know your precise location now, I should be able to guide you, but I will again need frequent reports of landmarks such as roads, bodies of water, and significant ground formations. I will also schedule appropriate places to rest and find food and water.”
“Do you know where Roxil is now?” Lauren asked. “I haven’t seen her this morning.”
“She has been at a nearby lake roasting fish and is returning to your location. She asked me to awaken you, and she should arrive at any moment.”
“Have you heard from Ashley or Walter or Gabriel?”
“Nothing, though that does not necessarily reflect the status of their health or safety. According to my records, they do not have working tooth transmitters, so they do not have any means of communicating with me.”
“Right. Ashley’s got cooked by the lightning.”
“If I receive contact from them, I will let you know.” Static entered Lois’s reply for the first time that morning. “I am monitoring hundreds of frequencies.”
“How about Elam? Have you heard from him?”
“He and his team are intentionally avoiding all communications in order to ensure complete secrecy. They will call for help only if necessary.”
“I understand. Thank you.” Lauren clutched the blanket and rose to her feet. Her knees and ankles popped. The colder air and the concrete bed had stiffened everything.
As she stretched her back, she leaned out from under the portico and scanned the sky. Against reddish haze, a flying dragon came into view about a mile away. Roxil would arrive in moments.
Lauren walked to the church entrance, brushed back the cocoon, and peered inside the sanctuary. The skeletons were gone, vanished except for a pile of clothes lining the center aisle. What could it all mean? Had they died of a flesh-eating disease? No. A disease couldn’t work that quickly. A sudden firestorm? No again. The discarded clothing seemed to be intact.
In a flurry of wings, Roxil settled in the parking lot, carrying in her teeth a wicker basket filled with a half dozen blackened fish. She shuffled to the portico and set the basket down. “I apologize for their scorched appearance. I already ate several, and they are tender and juicy on the inside. I will carry you to the lake for a drink when you are sated.”
The aroma ignited a rumble in Lauren’s stomach. “Thank you.” She picked up a fish, perhaps a trout, and bit into it, careful to avoid bones. Even without any salt or spices, it tasted wonderful. Her body likely craved nourishment.
While Lauren chewed, Roxil nudged the blanket with her snout. “This and the basket were lying on the ground in a park. Storm debris, I assume. I used my breath to warm the blanket for you. Also, the church area seemed secure, so I thought it safe to let you sleep. After your ordeal, you need plenty of rest.”
Lauren swallowed a hunk of fish. “The skeletons in the church are gone. Did you hear anything strange during the night?”
“No, but I felt a heightened sense of danger now and then, nothing truly alarming.”
“Very strange.” Lauren touched her jaw. “Did your transmitter pick up Lois telling me where we could intercept Matt?”
“Every word, but we cannot simply fly and collect Matt and your mother. Tamiel must know by now that we are on the trail. We will need a plan to counter his schemes to capture or destroy us should we appear at one of the addresses.”
“So we need to get there secretly to see what’s going on.”
Roxil bobbed her head. “Which means that I cannot fly all the way there. I am far too visible. I should land close to the destination, and you should travel the final part of the journey alone.” Roxil examined Lauren’s hands. “Are you adept at any form of weaponry?”
“I shot a rifle to save Gabriel, but I think I got lucky.” Lauren painted a mental picture of herself holding a gun, this time aiming at Tamiel. He had been shot before but soon recovered. Since he was a demon, the weapons of this world likely wouldn’t do any permanent damage. It would take much more than a bullet to kill him. “Don’t worry . . .” A rush of tingles ran along the scales on her back. She took a deep breath to keep her emotions in check. “If I run into Tamiel, I’ll know what to do.”
Chapter 8
THE THIRD DOOR
After getting well out of the policemen’s sight, Matt accelerated to the speed limit. “I think we made it.” He pulled out the phone and handed it to Darcy. “Can you map our route?”
“Sure.” She brought up the next address and leaned the phone against the dashboard. The label flashed at the top of the screen: The Third Door —The Flyers.
Matt mouthed the words. The meanings of The Frauds and The Forsaken had become obvious, but only after opening the doors.
“Any idea what it means?” Darcy asked.
“Maybe.” Mom leaned forward. “Billy and I saw a lot of strange things in the third circle of Hades. Morgan’s home stood on top of a strange hill, and a swamp filled with venomous serpents surrounded it. I flew across the swamp while Billy waded. Me flying is kind of a remote connection to The Flyers. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
“Maybe we’ll
find out more soon,” Matt said. “It’s only thirty miles away. Since Tamiel hasn’t sent a message, we’re probably supposed to go straight there instead of finding a motel.”
“That’s my guess.” After a few moments of silence, Mom touched Matt’s shoulder. “You know, maybe we already have more clues about what’s going to happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“This might sound unrelated, but I’ve been thinking about your nightmare. Do you feel like telling me about it?”
He shook his head. “Like I said before, dreams are just dreams. They don’t mean anything.”
“Sometimes they do.” Mom pulled a band from her pocket and fastened her hair back. “Lauren and I are dream oracles. We sometimes dream true events, though that hasn’t happened to me since I returned to Earth, I suppose because of my weakened song. Anyway, I thought you might have the same gift.”
“Well, now that you mention it, one time I had a dream that seemed to be coming true word for word. I mean, what was happening in real life was exactly what happened in the dream, so when it came time for me to say something that I said in the dream, I said something else.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “So the dream wouldn’t control me, I guess. I don’t want to be a puppet on a string.”
“So you did see something that was going to happen, but you were able to change it.” Mom nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
As Matt sped along, the farm landscape slowly gave way to a marshland. Water birds poked long beaks into ponds between grassy islands. A heron lifted its head and stared at them, its grayish-blue body awash in the eerie red sunlight. It ruffled its feathers and looked around, as if nervous. It seemed that the birds knew something twisted was going on. Even the water appeared bloody in the scarlet glow.
