He followed Cosgrove until it combined with Highway 7. He hastened his speed across the Ashley River toward Sam Rittenberg Boulevard. To the left, yellow lights bobbed in the choppy water. A fine fog hung suspended, calm and still.
Old Towne Road…
The original clearing. He accelerated, breaking speed limits, forcing his beat up car to lean into the curves of the sleepy residential areas. He pushed hard on the gas, pressing the pedal all the way to the floor, passing through another red light at Poston. Up ahead, signboards displayed Charles Towne Landing, the first settlement in Charleston. It brought images of Gina to mind. Pictures of them together, their youth. Before Alexandra. When life was perfect. Easy. Different. Lazy Sunday afternoons picnicking there. Now, flashes from the past were only diversions. A way to escape the ever-present now. They exploded like vibrant firecrackers, and then disappeared without even a fizzle, a flat line flare.
The road veered to the left at Junction 171. The forgotten, old North Charleston Mall stood like a rickety skeleton, a lonely reminder of the growth spurt Charleston was presently undergoing.
He passed into a bedspread of darkness. Sporadic horse lanterns dotted the road. Residential homes sat back in reclusive shadowed beauty. Mailboxes lined up intermittently on the left and right side.
Dan flicked on his high beams. He didn’t want to miss his turn. A green sign read: Marvin Avenue. Unaware of his speed he turned left, well over eighty miles an hour. The car swerved dangerously around the corner. Two wheels left the road as he tried to gain control of the vehicle. The car lurched back on all fours, careened around the curve, and fishtailed into a deep ditch. Tires screeched as he came to a sudden and explosive halt.
“Jesus, fucking Christ!”
He clutched his holster, unlocking the protective band and heaved open the car door. He squeezed through the narrow opening into a waterway filled with mud and knee-high reeds. His feet sank into the soft earth. He lost his balance and fell over. Cold water seeped into his dry clothing. His hands pushed through mud that felt more like liquid mortar as he dug his fingers into the side of the bank for added support. He grabbed a hold of some prickly briar weeds, unaware, numb of the sting and pulled himself up and out of the trench. The inside car light was on, the door jammed into the muddy incline. He didn’t care. He took off, wet and tired and layered with dirt.
He reached the asphalt, stomped his feet several times and sprinted toward the clearing. His only guide, the white divider line in the middle of the lane. Up ahead and to his left he noticed the forested tree line of the clearing. Flashbacks of that original night. The dead girl. The police convention of blue and red lights. Evans, George Madden. He jumped down into the ditch, straddling the tall grass and bramble bushes and dashed into the field. A woody, twisted root caught his foot. He fell, face first onto the ground. It punched the wind from out of him, a huge crushing blow to his chest. The frustration was overwhelming. He felt paralyzed, overcome by grief and fear and self-doubt. Frozen. Then, a rush of adrenaline surged through him. A carnal rage enveloped him as he pushed himself back up onto his feet and continued running. He realized the incredible stamina of the human will. For one fleeting second, he understood how old ladies were able to lift cars to save loved ones. Dan seemed to have taken on super-human characteristics. He crashed the silence with a deafening scream and took off, again, running in the direction of the clearing. Crickets and frogs kept a crazy chorus with his cadence, their world suddenly invaded by an unwelcome alien imposter.
His mind, his thoughts, his actions…
Save his baby!
He would kill himself if anything ever happened to Alexandra.
He approached the dense, dark trees and went for his piece. The leather holster and gun caked with wet mud. He inched around the trees, brushing his hips against each jagged base. He picked at the dirt with his finger and unlocked the safety. He hunched down. Dry leaves and branches snapped under his feet. Cautiously, he continued.
Nothing sudden.
No false moves. His eyebrow twitched.
The clearing was black. A cacophony of forest sounds surrounded him. In the moonlight, shapes began to take form. He closed in, using surrounding trees as shelter. Under hazy moonlight, the original yellow and black crime scene tape flapped in the wind, rattling in the stillness.
In front of him, under the canopy of an old oak tree sat Sydia. Her hair was wild, not styled or tied back. It blew soft and loose in the night breeze. In front of her on the ground was a body, Alexandra, still and quiet, a blanket snuggled up close around her neck. The sight of his baby tied down like an animal, a prisoner of this crazy woman, made him choke. Alexandra held custody, a hostage because of him. Again, his bad choices. Before he could speak, a match sparked the night sky. A flame flickered and turned on. The glow illuminated Sydia’s face as Dan’s eyes adjusted. Between his baby’s straddled legs was a lantern.
“We’ve been waiting, Father.”
Hearing Sydia’s voice took Dan off guard. It sounded strange… different.
“Have you come to save us? Have you come to save me?”
His mind would not stop racing, an exhausting emotional race. The gun rested securely on his forearm, pointed in her direction. His first impulse was to shoot the bitch, his need for revenge so great, so sweet, and so intense.
“Is she okay? Is my baby okay?”
“We’ve been waiting for you, Father. Just like before. Remember?”
“What are you talking about? I’m not your Father, and she’s not your baby. Now untie her and give her to me. Immediately. We can talk about this.”
Keep her talking.
Dan made slow gains forward.
Jesus, I was falling in love with this woman…
“Then I won’t be saved. Would you rather leave me here...?”
“My name is Hammer. Dan. I am not your Father.
“But you are. And you must save me. The heavens have agreed. They have chosen you.”
“What are you talking about? The heavens?”
“There are no mistakes. Alexandra and I were brought together, united for our salvation. This five year old little girl is my small sacrifice in order to be saved. Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”
“Sydia Garrison. A Doctor, for Christ’s sake,” he screamed out.
“I am God. I have chosen to be saved. This is the conclusion for me. My final act. A life goes full circle. Remember? I have finished what I have chosen to do. My mission. My Mother’s sins, my Father’s sins, their sin together, and now the completion, the greatest sin of all. The ultimate outcome. Me. I must save myself, but only with your assistance.”
“Don’t do this!”
Dan inched closer. He could see Sydia’s face. The details of her skin, her lips, her perfect teeth as she spoke…
This woman can’t be a killer!
His baby and Sydia were no further than fifty yards away.
“Don’t come any closer. You must watch. All of it. What you did to us. You must observe what one careless act can do. Did do. What you brought into this world. And by doing so, you will understand the destruction you have caused. By taking a woman – my Mother – and having sex with her in the fields. You, a missionary, a man of the cloth. You were to bring only good. Not this! So therefore, now you must pay. You will never understand how offensive that act is to our culture. How insulting it is for a white man to be with a woman of color before she is married. What were you thinking? Didn’t you know? That you created a monster!” She moved the blanket up around Alexandra’s waist and stroked the inside of her legs. Lightly. Moving her fingers like a paintbrush, up and down Alexandra’s thigh as she spoke.
“What did I do? I didn’t do anything. Listen to me…”
“I will perform the sacred act for you, Father. I will show you what they did to me.”
“Please Sydia. I have a gun! I don’t want to shoot! Don’t make me shoot you!”
“The time has come. The omen ha
s arrived. I have been instructed to perform the ritual. It is sacred in our camp.” Sydia lifted a wooden box, opened it and positioned it in front of her in between Alexandra’s legs. She pulled out a tin can lid. “I was taken to a field, far from the City. Mother screamed when they took me. She did not know…”
“Sydia, you must stop, now! Don’t make me do this…”
“They held my Mother down. Her sisters kept her captive as the tribesmen marched four other girls and me off. We wore white dresses. It was our celebration into womanhood. They offered us candy, which we hardly ever received. Chocolate. Then, they took us to a clearing. It was dusty and my feet were hot and sore when we arrived. They placed us outside a small hut and lined us up. I was not quite six, yet, Father. The same age as Alexandra.”
“STOP! NOW!”
“The oldest in our group was nine. We never spoke of the tradition, but we all knew of it. When it was your time, they came for you. I was scared. They forbid us from talking. Or crying. And my Mother, she could not save me. She could not save herself. She spit at her sisters. She screamed at them to let her go. Hissed the truth at them, the lie of my Father. The reality of you. How you came and stole her from the tribe and fucked her in the fields. It was a sin, and as punishment, they forced her to be still. For you, Father.
The grandmother of our tribe came out from the hut. She carried a rooster in her arms. She drew out a huge hatchet and, in front of us, cut off the rooster’s head. He ran around in dizzy circles, headless, spraying us with his blood before finally falling. I can still feel the warm blood from that cock. How it spewed over my bare feet…”
“Sydia, please. You’re not well…”
“You will listen. You will understand. That is why I use chicken bones. They are sharp and brittle when dried properly in the sun. They can easily puncture the skin.” Sydia pulled a handful of bones from her box. They rattled as she placed them ceremoniously on the towel. The yellow light from the lantern flickered, illuminating their brittle whiteness. “I was the last of the four girls. I watched on as the grandmother sat between their legs. Other women from the tribe held down their hands and feet before she began cutting. I observed how the girls would rise to meet the cut, see the blood spray, the way she weaved her hand, cutting deep and forcefully. From one girl to the next, she would use the same sharp tool, piercing flesh and skin as if it were nothing. She would throw the scraps of flesh to the wild dogs that followed us from the camp. They growled and barked at one another as they fought for the skin, the torn pieces of raw meat.” Sydia reached for the tin can lid.
“Don’t do it, Sydia!”
“Then, it was my turn. I prayed to a God to save me. To make them go away. Leave me alone. But, they didn’t. I was just like the other girls. I felt the first cut. I bit down hard onto the piece of wood they put into my mouth. The pain was unbearable, Father. I could see grandmother’s white gown turn red with my blood. At a certain point, I blacked out…”
Sydia advanced her fingers to Alexandra’s genital area. She raised the tunic. Dan couldn’t take it any longer.
“Stop!” He screamed out. He pulled the trigger, preparing himself for the recoil. The gun jammed. Frantic, he yelled out again. “STOP THIS, NOW!” He reloaded, chambering another round. Fighting back tears and seconds, knowing what might have already happened, he took aim again and fired, but once again, his pistol jammed.
“We must begin.”
A jumble of static whirled past him as he took off running toward the clearing. Like a crazy man, he raised his hands, yelling, screaming into the night. Then, the first gun shot. It pierced the silence like a thunderbolt. Sydia looked up. She could almost touch Dan. He was so close to saving his baby. Another shot rang out. He felt the sleek penetration of a bullet as it ripped through his shoulder blade, splattering blood tissue. He screamed out, “Get down! GET THE FUCK DOWN!”
He propelled himself forward and flung his body into the clearing. He dropped hard onto the ground. His first impulse was to shelter Alexandra. Another explosion rang out. The bullet hit the lantern and ricocheted off. Metal rang out as the light exploded and kerosene fanned out over the area. Flames spread as Dan lunged toward Alexandra, crawling up beside her body. Shallow breathing. His baby was asleep. His baby girl was safe. He untied her arms and legs and clutched her close to his chest. He pulled her away from the fire and yelled out into the darkness.
“STOP SHOOTING! POLICE! PUT YOUR WEAPON DOWN!”
A dark, heavy figure staggered into the clearing. Jesus Christ, it was Evans. He stumbled closer, either drugged or drunk, or both, weaving back and forth. He pointed his pistol in their direction.
“Evans! It’s Hammer. Drop your weapon.”
Evans voice was soft, emotional. “I… can’t… do… that, Dan.”
“DO IT! It’s an order.”
“Fuck you, Hammer! Did you see what that fucking sicko did? Did you see what was left of my friend?”
“Calm down, just calm down, Evans.”
Dan was torn. Life was so damn ironic. Here he was, protecting the woman he just moments ago wanted to kill himself.
“It’s too late for that, Evans.”
“No, Hammer, it’s not too late. You never understood her. You never understood Janice. You didn’t know how I felt about her. To you, she was just a nosy reporter…”
Dan struggled to stand up, pulling Sydia with him. She crouched down behind his back, mumbling words to herself as they inched out of the clearing and the growing fire. Evans continued toward them. The red and orange bonfire illuminated his wild face. His eyes were wide open.
Alexandra stirred. She nestled herself into the creases of Dan’s bloody jacket, now caked with dried mud. Behind Evans, a mile or so back, a line of squad cars arrived. The faint whirling sound of sirens moving closer. Then another shadow crossed over the crime scene. Dan breathed a sigh of relief.
Evans continued. “Move, Hammer. I want her. Let me take the bitch down. She needs to pay for what she did.”
“I won’t do that, Evans.”
“She was gonna do that sick thing to your daughter. You read the note. I’m fucking helping you out, man.”
The dots were beginning to connect. Evans had obviously gone to his apartment looking for Sydia. What he found was the note and followed the clues back to the original site.
“EVANS! Put your gun DOWN!” Wright’s voice boomed from the perimeter of the clearing.
Evans turned and fired as Wright flung himself for cover. Dan took the opportunity to hide Sydia and Alexandra behind a layer of trees.
Wright fired one shot. Evans fell to the ground, rolling around in a fetal position grabbing at his knee. “Mother fucker!”
Dan put Alexandra down on the ground and ran toward Evans, holding his own arm in a makeshift sling. He kicked Evans gun away as Wright entered into the clearing. He moved swiftly, first to Dan, then to Sydia and Alexandra.
“You all right?” He asked, checking Dan’s shoulder.
“I’ve been better.” Dan followed Wright back to Alexandra. He examined her body, checking for cuts, forgetting his own wound. His pain seemed so insignificant.
Sydia stared off into the distance. Lost. She muttered sounds to herself. Nothing tangible or coherent. Something about mistakes. How could Dan help but not feel sorry for her? Wright escorted her out of the clearing and into the field. She walked in baby steps, fumbling and tripping over her own feet.
Wright looked over his shoulder. “Let’s go home, Hammer. It’s over.”
Dan crossed the field behind them, Alexandra secure in his arms. A fusillade of sirens and flashing lights erupted in front of him. His senses slowly awakened and brought him back to life. Back to reality. His shoulder throbbed with intense pain. EMT’s intercepted him at the road. They took Alexandra and put Dan on a stretcher. Officers loaded Sydia into a squad car and drove away. Others ran to the clearing, including a crew of firefighters. Water gushed from thick hoses, shooting arches against the h
azy moonlight. Officers guided Evans back to the road. Wright stood beside the gurney as two EMT techs hoisted Dan into the ambulance. A technician held Alexandra inside.
“Sorry, Dan.” Wright grabbed at Dan’s hand. “You felt something for her, didn’t you?”
“Did.”
“Well, you saved her. In more ways than even she expected.”
“Yeah, the good Doctor.”
A painful interruption as an EMT inserted a needle in Dan’s arm and started an IV. Clear fluid dripped from a plastic bag into his system. “Wright, there is one thing.”
Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1) Page 31
