Bad Land

by Jonathan Yanez

  “I told you to stay out of this, but you wouldn’t listen. Now look where its gotten you.”

  One of the large figures moved forward and stepped within a few feet of Marshall. He threw back his hood and revealed his face. Lieutenant Tom Lloyd looked down on him with a wicked grin. Tom shook his head and reached down to lift up a portion of his torn cloak. “She thought she was going to stab me to death?” The spot where Marshall had seen the knife penetrate over and over again was clean. The skin over Tom’s heart was free of even the slightest laceration.

  Marshall winced from the pain in his head and hands. How had Jonah been so wrong when he had seemed so sure?

  Tom let out a loud laugh. “Thought you two would have done your homework before trying something as stupid as this.”

  “Tom,” Marshall said. “What are you doing? This isn’t you. You’re a police officer.”

  “Please, like you knew me so well. All you knew was what I wanted you to know. You’d call over and drop by asking about stories and wanting the inside scoop. I gave you what I wanted and played you along like a puppet. We were actually even thinking about grooming you to one day join the family. We could have given you a place of power, maybe even one day had you running the Hermes. Now you pull this and all there is in your future is pain and death. All you had to do was stop asking question about that stupid girl’s death and you couldn’t even do that.”

  “Mr. Lloyd.” The other shadowy figure asked.

  “What is it, John?”

  Marshall squinted to see the other man near the stone altar as he threw back his own hood. It was Detective John Lanner, his familiar blond hair and broken nose made him easily distinguishable. “I think she’s dead.”

  “What?” Tom retreated from his gloating and stood next to John. Both men stared down at Ann’s body.

  Marshall couldn’t see much of Ann from where he sat but he could see she wasn’t moving. Marshall gritted his teeth and even though his wrists were already cut by the tight rope, he forced his hands apart. He wriggled his wrists around, hoping against hope the restraints would give just the tiniest bit when wet with his blood. Or maybe the blood would act like a lubricant, allowing him to get even one hand free. One hand would be enough.

  The two large men still stood over the body. Lieutenant Lloyd finally reached a hand out and placed it on her neck. “You’re right!” he said, half laughing. “I guess I did kill her when I pushed her to the ground and stabbed her back with her silly knife. Well, nothing we can do about it now. I guess we can just let the blood drain.”

  “But we don’t need the blood. There’s no ritual due now for another sixty-six months.”

  “I know that. I don’t need you to remind me.”

  “Maybe, since—I mean, it’s already here, I can—”

  “No, don’t even think about it, rookie. The family has to decide that you’re ready to be one of us before we perform a ritual and you become an immortal. No sooner. There will be no blood from this altar smeared across your face today.”

  Blood soaking his hands, Marshall knew he was minutes away from either an escape or his own death. The ropes were so tight his hands were almost numb from lack of circulation, but he felt something. Was it his imagination or did the rope give the tiniest bit? No, there it was again. Millimeter by painful millimeter he twisted and started to slip his right hand free.

  The two men were done debating what to do about the body. “Get the kid and let’s take care of him.”

  John Lanner turned toward Marshall. Marshall just needed a few more seconds, his wrist was almost out. Detective Lanner stood in front of him and shook his head, almost as though he regretted what he was about to do. “All right, kid, it looks like your card has been pulled. I’m a little newer school, prefer to leave the knives out of the killing and use this.” Detective Lanner opened a fold in his black robe and revealed a holstered revolver.

  Only the brown butt of the gun was sticking out but Marshall knew what it was. Then with one last effort, aided by his own slippery blood, his hand came free. Marshall moved without thinking. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the gun out of Detective Lanner’s holster in one fluid motion. Before the detective could react, a loud crack went off and John Lanner looked down at the hole in his stomach. The large man fell backward and Marshall pointed the gun at Tom Lloyd.

  There was no time to think, he had to react. His body was alive with adrenaline and Marshall fired the gun again, missing Tom’s head by a few inches. “That’s not going to kill me, boy.” The member of the Lloyd family took a few steps in Marshall’s direction.

  “No, but I hope it hurts like hell for what you did to Ann.” The gun went off again and again and again, four times. Marshall emptied the remaining bullets into Tom Lloyd’s torso, but each bullet did no more to the man than make him pause as he took his next step. Before Marshall could run the monster was on him.

  Gripping Marshall in both large hands, he picked him up off of his feet and threw him across the room. Marshall landed on the stone altar next to Ann’s limp form and rolled off onto the dirt floor. Dust exploded from the ground as his body made contact. Dirt and dust clouded his vision, making it near impossible to see.

  Marshall blinked and struggled to regain his footing. He knew he had to run. There was no way he could kill Tom Lloyd now. Not with Jonah’s misinformation. Marshall reached out a groping hand, hoping to catch the ledge of the altar and pull himself up. His body was beginning to weaken, feeling the effects of blood loss. He gripped the edge of the altar and pulled himself up. His right hand dipped into something lukewarm and thick. The dirt in his eyes made it impossible to see but he could hear Tom’s footsteps quickly approaching.

  Marshall wiped his eyes, trying to clear the dirt from his vision, but instead made it worse. His hand was covered in Ann’s blood that had pooled in a basin at the head of the altar. Now in an attempt to clear his vision, the blood was smeared across his face.

  “No!” Tom roared. “You don’t deserve to be an immortal. You are not worthy to inherit this gift.” Tom launched himself at Marshall but Marshall had regained enough of his vision that he was able to dodge and avoid the large man’s clumsy grasp.

  Eyes still blinking back dirt and blood, he scanned the cave’s walls. There was only one tunnel that led out of the room. It was to his right and curved up. Marshall ran for the tunnel entrance and what he hoped was escape. Thoughts of Ann and her body made him glance back, but Tom was already struggling to his feet. Marshall knew he wasn’t going to do Ann and her memory any good lying dead beside her.

  Marshall ran up the cave tunnel as fast as his weak legs could carry him. He was lent speed by Tom’s shouts behind him. “No! Come back! You don’t know what you’ve done! What you are!”

  Marshall ignored the crooked police officer and didn’t give his comments a second thought as he raced up the tunnel. Tom would say anything to get him back, anything to make him pause and be captured again.

  Within a few yards, the lights inside the tunnel ended and Marshall was left to struggle onward in the dark. He didn’t have to endure the dark for long as a faint silver glow came from somewhere up ahead. It was the moon and Marshall had never been happier to see the sky.

  He emerged on the surface amidst a pile of rubble and what he guessed had once been an old house. If Jonah’s story held true, then he was actually emerging from a fireplace entrance and into what had once been the library of an estate long, long ago.

  With nothing to guide him, Marshall ran through the rubble and dirt, through the iron gates that hung ready to fall at any moment, and onto the road. He was half delirious. A few minutes into his hike, Tom’s shouts faded. Even with the sounds of pursuit gone, Marshall knew he couldn’t stay on the road and threw himself into the underbrush, choosing the course he hoped would lead him back to his car.

  Dry bushes and bare branches raked at his arms and face. Marshall’s lungs heaved and burned with every breath. The will to live was the on
ly thing keeping him going, the will to live and the need to avenge Ann’s death. They had killed her without a second thought. Ann, who had been fearless in her pursuit to find the truth about her brother. But she was gone now. What about Jonah and Diane? Why hadn’t they warned them about the ambush?

  Marshall let these questions lie and instead concentrated on what he was going to do once he reached his car, if he could even find his car, running through the canyon’s thick underbrush at night. He had to keep moving, not only for himself, now but for Ann, for Barbara, and to find the truth about his sister.

  There was no way to tell time, but Marshall guessed he ran for a full hour before he stumbled onto the back road were he and Ann had left his car. He followed the road up until he saw the familiar outline of his vehicle and gave a huge sigh of relief.

  Digging a bloody hand into his jean pocket, he prayed his keys had not been taken or fallen out during the course of the night. But there it was. The hard familiar metal was in his hand and within the next minute he was driving down the canyon as fast as he could.

  He was weak, not only from the loss of blood and the run, but now the adrenaline was wearing off and pain was setting in. The gash on the back of his head started throbbing worse than before and the long cuts along his wrists where the rope had practically burned through his skin felt like they were on fire.

  They would be watching his house, that he was sure of. There was no going to the police or hospital. If Tom Lloyd was behind all of this, he would have all the obvious places being watched and he could now justify putting out a warrant for Marshall because he had killed an officer. Oh, God, is he dead? Did you kill Detective Lanner? But you had to, they killed Ann and you were next. But now they have a reason to find you and no one is going to believe your story. What about Diane and Jonah? Had they been captured, too? They had to have been or else they would have warned you and Ann. They’ll be watching the warehouse and any known friends you have. Where can you go?

  Samantha’s face flashed in front of Marshall, and although he hated the idea of dragging her into this mess, he had no choice. There was nowhere else to go. He had no other option. He just prayed she would still be at her shop by some miracle. The clock on his car read ten. Please be there, Sam, please be there.

  Chapter 22

  Marshall grimaced with pain as he pulled into the dark garage’s parking lot. She was gone. Hope fell in his chest, and for the first time since his escape he started to panic. What would he do? He sat in his car, letting despair take hold. His head was hung low, eyes closed in a combination of pain and anguish.

  There was a tap on his window.

  Marshall jerked his head up and saw Sam’s worried face looking in. Numb with happiness, he reached out a blood soaked hand to open the door.

  “Marshall, is that you? I was just closing up and in my car getting rea—” Her voice trailed off as she took in his current condition. “Oh, Marshall—are you okay? What happened?”

  “I—I need your help. I have no where else to go.”

  Samantha hesitated for just a moment as she bottled all her fear and questions. “Okay, scoot over. I’ll drive you to a hospital.”

  “No! No hospitals. You have to trust me. I’ll explain everything but you have to promise me. No one else can know.”

  “Okay, scoot over, anyway. I’ll take you to my place. It will be safe there. Can you move?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Marshall let out a groan as he shifted his body weight and moved to the passenger side seat.”

  “My God,” Samantha said under her breath as she entered the car and started the engine. “What happened to you?”

  The pain in Marshall’s head blocked any kind of answer he could give. What was he going to tell her?

  “Marshall, are you still with me? What happened?”

  “I—I don’t want to endanger you. I’m not sure how much to tell you.”

  “Well, if you haven’t noticed, you’re a bloody mess and I’ve already promised not to tell anyone about this, not even knowing what I’m getting myself into, so, I think I deserve the whole truth.”

  Her voice was so calm it made Marshall smile. Here she was risking who knows what for someone she had just met. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything, but you can’t tell anyone. At least, until I have some type of plan.”

  “Deal.”

  Marshall slumped in the passenger seat of the car somewhere between half conscious and a dream state and he told her everything. From the start with the death of his sister to Jonah’s story to Diane and Ann’s revelation of who they were and finally the events of that night.

  Samantha was quiet the entire drive. She remained quiet even as they pulled into the driveway of a small house on a well taken care of residential street.

  “This—this is all yours?”

  “Yeah. Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  Samantha got out of the car and ran around to Marshall’s door, opened it, and helped him out. Marshall was fading fast, but despite all the blood loss and pain, he still sensed something was off. What was it?

  Samantha lifted his left arm and put it around her shoulder as they walked to her front door. She fished for the keys in her pocket with her free hand. Marshall did his best to hold as much of his weight as he could but he knew Samantha was the one holding him up.

  Something was still off. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just how Samantha had listened to his story and taken it all in stride—there was something else. Then he realized what it was. When Marshall had mentioned Jonah being involved, Samantha hadn’t flinched. With the mention of her grandfather’s name and the fact that his safety was in jeopardy, Samantha hadn’t said a word.

  Samantha managed to open the door, still supporting Marshall, and they walked into a house that was the polar opposite of Marshall’s. Samantha flipped on the lights and helped Marshall to a thick couch surrounded by a coffee table, entertainment center, and pictures hanging on the walls.

  “Samantha?”

  “Yes, hold on. I’m going to get you some bandages.”

  “Why didn’t you ask about your grandfather when I said I was with him?” Marshall closed his eyes as the pain in his head began to recede and he felt consciousness begin to slip further and further away.

  “My grandfather? What? You were talking about someone named Jonah. Was my grandfather there?” She was back now, looking at him with a worried frown as she unraveled gauze and opened a bottle of peroxide.

  “Your grandfather isn’t Jonah?”

  “No. You met my grandfather when you came to the house the same day you met me, remember? His name is Abraham. Abraham Lloyd.”

  Marshall’s eyes flickered open and for the first time he realized how beautiful she really was. It was the exact wrong time to be appreciating her beauty but he couldn’t help himself as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 23

  “Come on, just come with me. It’ll be fun!”

  “I think you and I have very different definitions of fun.”

  Marshall started to panic. He knew the voice was his sister’s. He knew he was in a dream. Everything was dark but he could hear her voice and his own like they were speaking right in front of him.

  “Oh, I see. Too cool to hang out with your little sister? Going out drinking again?”

  “That’s not it at all. I just really don’t want to go see a movie where a girl likes a guy but then another guy enters the scene and then it’s a love triangle. Then she has to choose between a bad boy and a brooding loner. It’s just been done too many times. And no. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the drinking situation, and you’re right. I have to cut back.”

  “Good. But come with me to the movie. Pretty please?”

  “I would usually, you know that, but I can’t this time. I’m swamped with homework and projects due at the Hermes.”

  “Well, okay. You do realize that this means I’m going to have to walk from work in
the middle of the night to the movie theatre to meet my friends.”

  “Oh, my gosh. You’re making it sound like it’s a hundred miles in the snow. Walking four blocks isn’t going to kill you and nine o’clock is far from the middle of the night.”

  Marshall just wanted to wake up. He knew how things ended. This was the last time he had talked to his sister and he had replayed this conversation in his head a million times. This was the same night she would turn up missing and they would find her dead the very next day.

  Marshall ran through the darkness, their voices playing the conversation over and over and over. He couldn’t see anything, not his hand in front of his face, not where he was going, and not her face. What he wouldn’t give to see her face one more time.

  When Marshall finally woke up, he was lying in a clean bed in a room he would have loved to call his own. The sheets smelled like they had just been washed. Morning light streamed through a large window on his left. There was a fresh scent to the room and he felt safe for the first time in a very long time.

  The feeling of safety was short lived as he remembered the events of the previous night. Marshall lifted his arms and saw matching white bandages covering his wrists. He reached up and gingerly touched the back of his head, it was also bound securely by a bandage that wrapped around his forehead, like a sweatband. He was also clean. He remembered being so dirty the night before. Someone had washed him.

  “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

  Marshall looked up and saw Samantha standing in the doorway. His mouth almost dropped open. She was wearing a large T-shirt, her bare legs showing underneath.

  “I feel better. Sore, but alive. And I’m sure you have a ton of questions.”

  Samantha gave him a small forced grin and walked over to sit next to him on the bed. “You were saying some pretty crazy things last night. When I told you my grandfather’s name, you passed out.”