Bad Land

by Jonathan Yanez

  The two pulled back, eyes still closed. Marshall was the first to clear his throat. “I, uh—I’m sorry. I mean, it’s probably not the best timing and—”

  “Shhhhhh…”

  “What?”

  Samantha still had her eyes closed. “I just want to enjoy this moment a little longer before we go and try to set people on fire.”

  Marshall had to grin. Samantha opened her eyes and smiled at him. “There, that’s better. Now where were we?”

  “I think we were preparing for war.”

  “Oh yes.” Samantha walked over to her side of the table. “War.”

  Chapter 27

  There was a chill in the air and clouds partially covered a full moon. The road deep inside the canyon was dirt and Marshall’s Mustang bounced up and down in a slow, uneven rhythm. He was wearing a long coat they had found in the warehouse, his wrists and head still ached, but his mind was focused.

  Samantha sat beside him, flipping through the channels on the radio. She wore a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, and a thin black hoodie. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

  “How can you listen to music at a time like this? We’re minutes away now.”

  Samantha bit her lip in thought before she answered. “I guess I’d rather be nervous with music playing in the background to take the edge off rather than be nervous in complete silence.”

  Her logic was sound and Marshall had to admit, not for the first time, that she had a good point. Samantha flipped through a few more stations and landed on a gospel channel with a preacher teaching to his congregation in a stern voice.

  “Perfect.”

  “What is this?” Marshall asked.

  “I don’t know but he sounds angry and I’m starting to get pumped up. You know, like football players before a big game.”

  Marshall listened as the preacher continued to shout. “And you can defeat the evil one! There is hope. I’m here to tell you that death and destruction is not the only way. There is another path. The way is narrow and it will not be easy, but you can defeat the Prince of Darkness. We as one have the power to stand up and rage against the evil forces of this world. We are slaves no more! Today can be the day that you, and you, and you shake free from the shackles of this evil world and stand up and roar into the void that we will not go quietly; that united with His strength, we are strong and we are free!”

  “See?” Samantha lowered the volume on the radio. “Gets me going every time.”

  “No kidding. I think I have goosebumps on my arms.”

  The goosebumps didn’t last long however, as Marshall killed the lights and completely turned off the radio. They were here. The familiar dilapidated building loomed in front of them. Marshall knew it was his imagination but the skeleton of the building looked like a large monster’s mouth, the tunnel that led into the cave being the throat.

  “This is it?” Samantha asked.

  “Yep. This is the estate.” The car stopped and Marshall gripped the book. He had wrapped a thick towel around the leather cover.

  “You ready for this?” Samantha asked, and for the first time, Marshall heard a brief hint of fear in her voice.

  “I’m ready. You good?”

  “I’m great,” Samantha said as she jammed a full clip into the butt of her gun.

  “I’ll go first. They still think I kidnapped you, so they won’t suspect I have help.”

  “I remember the plan,” she said.

  “Okay.” Marshall took a deep breath and moved to get out of the car. Samantha caught the sleeve of his large trench coat and pulled him back into a long, drawn out kiss. “For luck. I think we can use as much luck as we can get right now.”

  “Hmmmm… of course for luck.” Marshall smiled as he exited the car and walked through the yard. The ecstasy of Samantha’s last kiss tingling on his lips was short lived as he walked closer and closer to the tunnel entrance.

  It was dark, and even though he had been there the night before, he had been running for his life, so it took Marshall a few minutes to get his bearings. After a few minutes of searching, he found the old beaten down remains of the brick fireplace that marked the entrance to the underground meeting hall.

  Marshall stared into the dark abyss below him. He was on the verge of plunging into the unknown. Who knew how many of them were down there, or if their plan would even work, but he had to go. He had to save Diane and find the truth about his sister. Taking one last long breath, he forced himself to take one step into darkness and then another.

  The cave floor was a combination of dirt and stone and he walked in inky blackness for a few yards before he caught the first glow of light down below. The book felt heavy in his hands and his throat was dry, but he knew what had to be done. Fear had to be put aside if he, Samantha, and Diane were going to make it through the rest of the night.

  Marshall walked ever deeper into the heart of the earth. Soon he could hear voices ahead and more lights were visible along the cave walls. Lamps had been set inside clefts of the cave walls. It all made sense now why they would use lamps and bulbs rather than torches.

  Marshall approached the last corner where the floor began to level. Here we go—you got this. Do it for her. You can do it for her.

  Marshall stepped around the corner and gripped the book even tighter. The room was just like he had remembered it. It was a large, circular chamber with lights placed all around the perimeter. High ceilings were adorned with hanging stalactites and a large stone altar was set directly in the middle of the space. What wasn’t familiar were the people in the room.

  A dozen hooded figured circled Diane Whitmer, who was restrained on the altar. She was bound but not gagged, and the older woman shot daggers at every member of the darkly clad group.

  Her eyes met Marshall’s and she winced. “You shouldn’t have come. Marshall, don’t give them the book.”

  Ten dark hooded figures walked backward, leaving only two of their brothers standing in the middle of the room next to Diane. The tallest figure reached up and drew back his hood. Abraham, the man Marshall had known as Jonah, smiled back at him. “Hello, Marshall. It’s a good thing you’ve come. Diane would be dead without you and you would have been hunted down like a dog. Now, the book.”

  Marshall didn’t make a move. “I want to know about my sister first. Were you the ones responsible for her death and the death of Ann’s brother and Barbara Summers?”

  Abraham nodded. “Nothing personal, Marshall. All sacrifices for the greater good.”

  “The greater good?” Marshall was struggling to be in the moment, aware of everything, yet the same time finally processing what had happened to his sister.

  The hooded figure next to Jonah pulled back his hood and the dim light framed Tom Lloyd’s familiar face. “We are waging a war, not only for this county and state, but this country. You wouldn’t understand, but everything we do is done for a greater purpose.”

  “So you can rule? So you can attain power? That’s your greater good?” Marshall asked.

  “Enough. We don’t have to explain ourselves to you,” Tom sneered.

  “The book,” Abraham said again.

  “The book, and I get to leave, right? That was the deal. You get the book and Diane and I go free. Don’t you even care what happens to your granddaughter?”

  The elderly man shrugged. “She was a pawn, just like yourself. Do whatever you want with her—she is no concern to me.” A devilish grin spread from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Oh and you will not be leaving, even after you give me the book.”

  With a quick flick of his wrist, the other ten dark robed members walked to the only entrance to the cave and formed a human barrier between Marshall and any hope of escape.

  A cold sweat began to form on Marshall’s brow and panic gripped his heart. He needed to stall. Samantha needed more time to set plan B in motion. Marshall backed away from the altar and the group of hooded figures by the entrance. “Well, I at least deserve to know h
ow all this happened. All I have is bits and pieces, but I want to hear it from you.”

  Abraham seemed to think about this. Impatience was clear on Tom’s face. “Not much to tell,” Abraham said. “My family discovered this place one hundred and sixty-three years ago. They took it from the Indians. At the time they had no idea why the Indians fought so violently to hold the canyon, but when they discovered the cave, they knew for certain. If those fools had only used the Wakan—Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not sure you’re familiar with that term.” Abraham paused to smile. “Waken, in the ancient Indian tongue, means altar. If the Indians had only used the wakan to become immortal themselves, then they probably would have beaten us back.”

  Abraham looked at Marshall like he was reliving the moment. “My family and the Whitmers found the two hand written books and the cave. Each of our families took a book, but the Whitmers wanted to destroy the stone and bury its secret with it. I saw the stupidity in that. My family saw that we now had a weapon, a thing to use for the good of this country. A tool given to use.”

  “It all sounds great, but you’ve left out the part where you sacrifice living human beings.” Diane had been quiet until now but Abraham’s story was too much for her to bear in silence. “You left out the part where you killed my entire family and countless others over the years, including Marshall’s sister, Ann, and her brother.”

  “True,” Abraham said. “But more followers had to be brought in to the inner circle. Wiping the blood from the sacrifices on your face is the only way to attain immortality. We established a tradition that every sixty-six months a new sacrifice would take place to induct in our new members. Our network is vast and stretches far beyond this county now. It stretches far beyond this state. After one hundred and sixty-three years, it has stretched to the very doorstep of this nation. And there’s nothing anyone can do. We are not only hidden, we are immortal.”

  Abraham paused and he was brought back to the moment. He refocused his gaze on Marshall. “We were even considering bringing you into the inner circle, Marshall. Once Diane Whitmer was dead, we needed a strong person to lead the Hermes. That was why I told you the story of my youth to see how you would respond. Unfortunately, you chose the wrong side. Now, you have your answers. Give me the book. I will not ask again.”

  Marshall hesitated. Every second he could buy Samantha was another second assuring their plan would work.

  “What’s in the book? Why do you want it so badly?”

  Abraham’s demeanor didn’t change as he motioned for Tom to move forward and retrieve the book. “The Whitmers’ book holds information on the history of the Indian people, and how this stone was found. It also has information on other objects of power scattered across the globe, just as the second book does. The one we already possess.”

  Tom walked toward him with a devilish smile. His hands opened and closed and a thin tongue darted out across even thinner lips. Marshall was already backed up to the wall as far as he could go. He had stalled as long as he could and he only hoped it was long enough. Marshall held the book in his right hand still covered in the cloth. He reached into his coat pocket with his left. Producing a silver lighter, he flicked the switch and a long flame sprouted, aimed directly beneath the book.

  Tom stopped in his tracks, his eyes fixed on the fire. “One more step and this book goes up in flames.”

  Tom sneered. Abraham’s voice came back as cool and collected as ever. “Do you think the entire book will be ashes before we overwhelm you and stomp out the flames? So the cover and a few pages get singed. You really should have had a better plan, Marshall. Quite frankly, I’m disappointed in you.”

  Abraham nodded to the group of cloaked figures guarding the exit to Marshall’s left and two of them started toward Marshall. “But I did think of that, Abraham. I thought of that and so much more.” Marshall couldn’t help but smile. “The towel covering your book has been soaked in gasoline. Have fun putting this out!”

  The flame reached the towel and book and ran across the entire object like wildfire. Marshall had just enough time to throw the book at Tom and the two approaching men. Tom and one of the others managed to dodge to the side. The third wasn’t so lucky. Flames licked the dark hood and spread on the figure like it was aided by some kind of magic.

  Panicked screams went up, not only from the immortal on fire but from the entire group. Never before had anyone known their secret. As Marshall ran to Diane’s side to free her, he thought that perhaps Joseph had gotten the translation wrong. Maybe fire wasn’t only their weakness, maybe it was their bane. Maybe the fire acted not only as a chink in their armor but as a weapon against them. Almost as if they were combustible.

  Marshall couldn’t spend more time thinking on this as he freed Diane. Screams echoed and bounced off the cave walls. Half the members were trying to run and avoid their brother on fire and the other half were making halfhearted attempts to do something to stop the flames.

  Abraham had pulled off his own cloak and was using it to beat out the flames on the book.

  “Hurry,” Diane said, as she watched the dismantling of the Lloyd family.

  Marshall nodded. His fingers flew around the ropes holding her right wrist. A knife! Why didn’t you think to bring a knife! But the rope was off before he could mentally kick himself anymore and he moved on to her feet as Diane used her free right hand to untie her left.

  Marshall was too focused on his work to see Diane’s eyes look up and much to slow to react to her wild scream of warning.

  Tom had recovered from his initial fear of the flame and didn’t give a second thought to the member on the ground screaming in pain. Instead he drew a dark bladed knife from his own cloak and searched for Marshall. He spied Marshall trying to free Diane. He ran at his back and sunk the blade deep behind Marshall’s left shoulder. The knife was sharp and tore through skin and muscle like paper.

  Marshall screamed and fell to the floor. Diane grabbed for Tom but she was still held to the altar by one restraint on her left ankle. Tom landed on top of Marshall and yanked his blade free, only to drive it into Marshall’s gut and abdomen twice more.

  Marshall was struggling to get up but Tom was too heavy. The large man was sitting on Marshall’s chest, grinning. “Well, I guess in the game of life we all can’t be winners. And I’m going to burn your body after I kill you, just in case. Good-bye, Marshall.”

  The knife came down on his neck and ripped across his skin. The last thing Marshall remembered was Diane jumping onto Tom’s back and then nothing.

  Chapter 28

  He knew he was dead. But for some reason he could walk around. He was in his own house, In his own bed. He could hear George downstairs, making noises like he was playing with someone. Happy little yips and howls came from his roommate.

  Marshall sat up and looked down on himself. There was no blood. There was no torn skin or deep gashes on his neck or stomach. To the contrary, he had never felt better. He was dressed in a white shirt with khakis and a pair of comfortable shoes. Am I in heaven? Marshall thought.

  George was howling with joy at something. Marshall left his room and walked toward the kitchen and front room. Sure enough, everything was the same. No chew toy, empty pizza box, or old piece of mail out of place. Marshall rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. There was someone kneeling down playing with George.

  The person had their back to him but for some reason he didn’t feel scared or intimidated. He felt like he knew this person. The girl in front of him stood up and turned around.

  Marshall almost lost balance and he could feel his eyes open wide. His sister stood in front of him, smiling. “Don’t want to freak you out, Marsh. It’s me. I’m not some kind of weird ghost or anything.” She looked him up and down, still smiling. “Still need help in the fashion department, I see, a plain white tee and—oh no, don’t tell me you’re wearing khakis? Really?”

  “How—am I dead?”

  “No.” His sister shrugged her slender
shoulders. “I am. You’re like in this weird in between place. I don’t know exactly how it works but once you turn immortal, the only thing that can kill you is fire. So you’re like—like in a time out or something, recovering from being stabbed.”

  “What? How do you know I got stabbed? And I’m not immortal.”

  “I’ve been watching and keeping an eye on you from time to time. And yes, you are immortal. You dipped your hand in Ann’s blood when she died on the altar and wiped it on your face to get the dirt out of your eyes, remember?”

  Marshall was speechless. His mind was having trouble accepting his new reality. Everything his sister said made sense, but then again he was talking to his dead sister.

  “Oh, and by the way, Ann says you need to stop being such a—wuss and start kicking some Lloyd family—butt.” Marshall’s sister raised her hands in submission. “Her words, not mine, and I even edited it a little bit.”

  “You can talk to Ann?”

  “Oh yeah, and Barbara Summers—she’s so proud of you. We all are.”

  “We?”

  “There’s a lot I can’t say, and I have to get going, but stop beating yourself up over me. I’m fine, and what happened to me was and is not your fault. And for goodness sake, stop drinking. We both know that’s not you.” She smiled at him and turned to go.

  “Wait!”

  She stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

  Marshall took a few steps forward and placed a hand on his sister’s cheek, his voice quivering. “I just want to remember your face. For the longest time I couldn’t remember what you looked like.”

  His sister took his hand in her own and held it against her cheek. Marshall was the happiest he had ever been or could ever remember being. He was with his sister again, even for the briefest of moments. She was standing in front of him and he could see her dark eyes and short, dirty blonde hair. Her lopsided grin and the mischievous smile that always played across her lips.