Fatal Complications

by John Benedict

  Rob broke free and regained his footing, breathing rapidly. Katz stood up and the two men squared off against each other, looking for an opening. Rob shot a look at the furnace—it had a way of commanding your attention. The control knob was set to low, but it still seemed frightfully hot. Rob snapped his eyes back to Katz and noticed the older man had a gunshot wound on his left shoulder that was oozing blood. Apparently oblivious to his injury, Katz threw several vicious punches. Rob put his arms up to protect his head and absorbed the blows. He launched two quick jabs himself—the first one just missing Katz’s head, the second landing solidly on his injured shoulder.

  Katz grimaced and backed up a step. “Guess you don’t know about Gwen,” Katz spat out.

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “I know she’s here.”

  Rob was breathing hard. The room was ungodly hot and he was drenched in sweat.

  “She came to see you,” Katz said.

  “Make your point!” Rob shouted back.

  “She made a big mistake tonight. She called me and tried to blackmail me.”

  Rob swung again, but Katz deflected the blow with his good arm.

  “She wanted me to kill your wife,” Katz said.

  Rob felt as if he had been sucker punched. Nausea washed over him and the room started to spin. “That’s absurd!”

  “Is it?” Katz circled, putting Rob between him and the grated door. “Is it so far-fetched?”

  “Gwen would never—you’re lying, damn you!”

  “Don’t underestimate the power of love, Gentry.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “I can prove it.” Katz began to advance. “Want to see her number on my cell phone?”

  “No!” Rob backed up. Sweat burned his eyes and he wiped at them. “That doesn’t prove anything. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It was a big mistake to threaten me.”

  “If you laid a hand on her, I’ll kill you.”

  “I didn’t touch her,” Katz said.

  The heat from the open door was becoming painful on Rob’s back.

  “But that crazy Russian,” Katz continued, “you never know what he might do. He was a drug addict, you know.”

  “I swear to God, Katz, if anything happened to her, I’ll kill you!”

  “Swearing to God, now. Don’t you know that’s a sin, Gentry? Where’s your faith now, when you need it the most?”

  “You know nothing of faith, you bastard.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong—dead wrong. My faith has made me strong. Don’t you know that even the demons believe?” His smile was grotesque. “And to think I used to worry about the two of you.” He snorted derisively and gestured to Luke. “He’s already done for. As for you, with your precious faith in tatters, you are no match for me. The only chance you had was to take me on together. You missed your chance. I taste victory already.”

  To emphasize his point, Katz locked onto Rob’s shirt with a steely grip and began to push. Slowly, inexorably, Rob was forced backward. Shit, Katz was strong. How was that possible for an older man? How was that possible for an older man with a gunshot wound?

  Would Gwen really have considered murder? This crazy question ricocheted about his head, sapping his strength as he felt himself being pushed ever nearer to the open grated door. He could feel the temperature rising as he got closer and closer to the flames. Finally, his feet collided with the bottom of the grated door. He threw his arms out, frantically groping for the doorframe to keep from getting pushed in. The frame was red hot and burned his hands. Rob yelped in pain, but didn’t let go.

  “It’s over, Gentry. You’ve lost. You surrendered your faith for that whore, and now she’s dead!”

  She couldn’t be. “You’re lying!”

  Katz sneered at him and breathed into his face. “Nikolai gutted her like a sheep! He showed me the bloody knife blade. I have it.”

  This seemed to ring true. Was Gwen really dead? This dreadful question consumed Rob’s mind, quashing all other thought. If Gwen was dead, he was beaten. Rob felt some of the fight go out of him.

  Katz must’ve sensed this as well, as he released Rob with one hand and dug into one of his pockets.

  As the pressure eased, Rob quickly adjusted his footing and repositioned his hands for better leverage. This was all he could manage.

  Katz produced an evil-looking switchblade stained with blood. “Do you want to smell her perfume on it, lover boy?”

  Rob turned his head, refusing to look at the knife.

  Katz shoved the blade in his face. Although faint, Rob could detect Gwen’s scent. He howled with anguish and felt all of his remaining strength flow out of him. Maybe Katz was right—maybe he had lost and had nothing left to live for. His body sagged precariously inward toward the flames. He readjusted his hold on the edge one more time. His back was beginning to blister and the odor of burnt flesh assailed him. He glanced down at Luke, who would go into the furnace next.

  “Gwen told me all about the incinerator,” Rob shouted at Katz.

  “What’re you talking about?” Katz demanded and again the pressure eased up a notch. “Not that it matters. She’s dead and your time is limited.”

  Arching his back away from the heat in a mostly futile gesture, Rob continued. “She also called the FBI. You’ll never get away with it.” He tried to play the bluff for all it was worth. It was all he had.

  Katz hesitated. “You’re a bad liar, Gentry. Care to take some lessons?”

  The pressure increased again. The bluff had failed. It was over. Suddenly, a new thought occurred to him—radical and unexpected.

  Rob released his hold on the edge of the incinerator door, and in the same motion grabbed hold of Katz with his half-burnt fingers. Rather than resisting anymore, Rob pushed backward for all he was worth with his biker legs, catapulting them both into the incinerator. As Katz’s outstretched hand struck the doorframe, Nikolai’s blade dropped to the ground. Rob blocked out all else and focused his mind on thoughts of redemption.

  Katz screamed as the two men tumbled into the flames.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1:30 A.M.

  Luke slowly regained consciousness. Something was digging uncomfortably into his back, so he shifted position. God, it was hot and noisy. Where was he? What had happened? He opened his eyes and instantly, lightning bolts of pain shot through his skull. He quickly shut them. He had seen enough to know that he was in some sort of incinerator room—the source of all the heat and noise. And he was lying on a wheeled cart.

  What the hell was he doing here? And what was that horrible stench? Luke tried valiantly to reconstruct his memory, but it was a total blank for recent events. The last thing he remembered was driving to the hospital for Kim’s C-section. Kim! Where was she? Was she okay? He had to get moving.

  Luke rolled onto his side and, with considerable effort, managed to sit up. He opened his eyes again. His head thumped miserably in protest and the room swam around him, but he forced himself to endure until his vision stabilized. He cradled his head in his hands; he felt as if a large spike had been driven deep into his skull. When he gingerly probed his right temple, he felt a huge tender swelling, and his fingers came back bloody.

  He looked around the small room as he tried to muster the energy to stand. The grated door to the furnace was half open, revealing flames behind it. A can of fuel oil and a shovel were over against the wall. Footprints were plainly visible in the dirt on the floor, as were signs of a scuffle. There was also blood spattered over the floor. Whose blood? he wondered. His pulse quickened, but this only intensified the throbbing in his head. He needed to wake up faster, but the image of blood seemed to be hugely important. He concentrated on the blood for a moment and another big chunk of his memory fell back into place.

  There had been the fiasco during Kim’s C-section—the pool of blood in Kim’s abdomen. Seidle trying to bleed her to death. Luke delivering his daughter Abi ou
t of this pool. The FBI agent shooting Seidle dead. Seidle lying in a pool of his own blood. Rob Gentry appearing from nowhere to save Kim.

  Luke sat on the side of the cart and massaged his sore head and eyes while he tried to coax the rest of his memory back to life. There were still too many unanswered questions. Where was Kim now? Why was he here? And what in God’s name was that overpowering, nauseating smell? One thing was clear—he must find Kim—now.

  Drawing a deep breath, Luke rose to his feet. As he did, he saw stars and the room began to spin. Shards of pain again lanced through his skull, but he remained standing. He grabbed the handle of the cart to steady himself. No time for weakness now.

  He hobbled toward the door to get out of this hellish room, but a loud creaking noise behind him stopped him. He spun in time to see the grated door to the furnace swing wide open. Luke’s breath caught in his throat as a gruesome figure emerged from the fire. That’s impossible, he thought. No one could possibly come out of there.

  The figure spoke. “What’s wrong, Daulton? You look like you’ve seen a ghost”—a spasm of raspy coughing interrupted—“or a demon.”

  Luke gasped. The creature’s face was hideously burnt beyond recognition, with one eye just a blackened socket, but Luke recognized Katz’s unmistakable voice. Luke stood staring, barely able to breathe, as his battered brain struggled to comprehend this. He now realized that the stench was burning human flesh.

  “It’s me, all right,” the Katz creature uttered.

  The sight of Dr. Katz caused the remainder of Luke’s stubborn memory to come flooding back. Of course—Katz!

  “And I’ve come for you,” Katz said in a gravelly voice.

  “What were you doing in there?” Luke asked, perplexed. He was treading water, desperately trying to buy some time while his mind came online. He still couldn’t think straight. Was this all just a dream? This seemed entirely possible because his mind kept returning to: no real man could climb out of that inferno, could they?

  “Taking care of business,” Katz said cryptically.

  Luke glanced at his watch. Roughly thirty minutes had elapsed since he had last seen Kim. What had happened after he was knocked out? A suffocating cloud of dread began to descend on Luke. Surely Katz would’ve finished Kim off while Luke had been unconscious. After all, Katz had access to Jenna’s gun and Nikolai’s knife. For God’s sake, all he needed to do was disconnect her ventilator tubing—she was a sitting duck. And he, Luke, had failed to save her.

  A further horrifying thought occurred to him. Had Katz thrown Kim into the furnace? Was that the source of the foul odor? He was terrified to find out. Luke swallowed hard and said, “It’s over, Katz. You’re done for. Secret Service and FBI are all over the place.” His words sounded hollow and he knew it—he was the one who felt like it was over. Life without Kim would be unthinkable.

  Katz laughed in response, a hideous gurgling noise. “Brave words, Daulton, but it doesn’t matter. It’s just you and me. No one knows we’re here.”

  “Then I’ll take you, myself,” Luke said, removing his hands from the cart’s handle. He noted with horror he was still unsteady on his feet.

  “I doubt you’re up to it, my boy. It looks like you can barely stand.” Katz took several steps toward him. “Your buddy Gentry, who was much stronger than you, didn’t make out so well.”

  “Looks like you didn’t make out so well, either!” Luke fired back.

  Katz gestured to the furnace. “Can you smell him? Now it’s your turn to join him in the hereafter. That door is the portal.”

  Luke recoiled at the thought that this stench was all that remained of Rob. But his mind, becoming unhinged, clung to the thought that at least it wasn’t Kim. At the same time, the thought of Rob dying at this bastard’s hands reignited his anger. He could feel it burning brightly inside him and he drew strength from it. “You’ll be the one going through the damned portal.” He lunged at Katz, ignoring his wobbly legs.

  Katz easily dodged Luke’s clumsy attack. “You’re no match for me, Daulton.”

  Luke stumbled past him and went down hard, skidding on his knees until he was just several feet from the mouth of the furnace. The heat was pouring out of it and threatened to cook his face. He clambered to his feet and turned to face Katz. “We’ll see about that,” he shouted, the sweat now dripping off his forehead. God, he wished his legs would steady and his head would clear in time to make this bastard pay.

  Katz appeared to study Luke. “I sense something different about you.”

  “That’s right—I’m going to kill you this time,” Luke said. “You’re beginning to believe—to have faith. How did this happen?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Luke replied, returning Katz’s stare.

  “Oh, really.” Katz tried to smile, but instead produced a hideous oozing from his burned eye socket. “You’re placing your belief in the wrong one, Daulton.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Your side is going to lose. The human race is hurtling toward destruction and nothing can stop it—certainly not your God. He deals in phony, feel-good crap and cuts and runs when the going gets tough.”

  “You sound like my dad—rely on yourself.”

  “Your dad was an idiot! I never said rely on yourself,” Katz said angrily. “My master is trustworthy—”

  “That’s a hoot!”

  “—when he says he’ll give you power, he means it.”

  “My father was wrong—and so are you. He never saw what I saw.” Luke wiped the sweat from his eyes. “I delivered my daughter from a pool of blood. One look at her convinced me there is more out there than meets the eye. Clearly, she was saved by something beyond me.”

  “Very touching, I’m sure. But it’s not enough—your fledging faith will do you no good. My faith is mature, tried and tested in the furnace, so to speak. How do you think I survived that?” He pointed again to the furnace.

  Luke shot a glance over his shoulder. The furnace’s gaping maw was only two or three feet away. Despite the intense heat, chills ran up and down his spine because he had no answer to Katz’s question.

  “My master gives me strength,” Katz said.

  “What a joke! You have no real faith. You believe in the father of lies.”

  Katz growled, then came at Luke, locking onto his arms. The two men, as if welded together, pirouetted about the small room, bumping off the grimy walls. Luke smacked his knee painfully on the heavy cart. As they struggled, he felt himself being slowly maneuvered backward toward the furnace. God, he’s strong. Luke thought of Rob burning to death in the incinerator and fought back harder.

  “Even the demons believe!” Katz shouted and stood up straighter, thrusting his chest out and looking upward.

  “I know that verse!” Luke cried out. “You’re a fool. Once again you deal in half-truths and lies. You left out the most important part!”

  Katz paused, cocking his head.

  “It reads,” Luke continued, sucking in air as he tried to catch his breath. “Even the demons believe and they shudder!”

  Katz’s face contorted and his grip weakened.

  Luke pushed him back a foot or two, away from the god-awful furnace.

  But Katz recovered quickly. “Your cheating friend Gentry shuddered when I tossed him into the hellfire! He died trying to save your sorry ass.” Katz put his head down, tightened his grip, and started pushing Luke backward again. “His faith was as weak as yours, and I crushed him like a bug. You’re next. The only chance you morons had was to take me on together. My master warned me of this.”

  Luke felt his feet slipping backward on the dusty floor. If only he could get his hands around Katz’s thick neck and complete the job he had started in Kim’s room.

  “Your wife also shuddered when I killed her!” Katz shouted in his face.

  Luke felt like he had been stabbed in the heart and his body sagged. There it was, plain as day—he had killed Kim. Despair filled Luke, all
hope now extinguished. He barely felt the intense heat on his back.

  Katz eased up the backward pressure for a moment, although his hands never released their grip. He stared into Luke’s face. “The air embolus touch following a bloody C-section was brilliant, don’t you think? A natural fatal complication. Almost as good as MH. No one will suspect.” Katz, obviously relishing the opportunity to rub salt in Luke’s wounds, continued, “You should never have left her side, Daulton. You doomed her!”

  This was too much for Luke to bear. His anger flared anew and he cried out through his pain, “I’ll kill you!” Freeing up one hand, he landed a couple of solid blows, one directly to Katz’s burnt face. Katz looked vaguely surprised, but the blows didn’t seem to inflict any damage; the Katz-creature appeared impervious to pain. As Luke’s anger intensified, he fought back even harder, but he still couldn’t overcome the man. Katz’s strength was unreal, inhuman.

  Katz grunted and again began pushing him slowly, relentlessly toward the furnace door. Luke’s feet slid back until his heels bumped up against the bottom of the furnace doorway. A strange thought intruded on Luke’s mind. Did he say air embolus? Something didn’t quite fit here. Luke was missing something vital and he desperately needed to understand this.

  “Time to go through the portal,” Katz said, slowly ratcheting up the pressure. He seemed to enjoy prolonging this part and watching Luke squirm.

  Luke let go of Katz and braced himself with his outstretched hands against the doorframe. The hot metal frame burned his hands, but he ignored the pain. In a time measured in microseconds, the following thoughts raced through his mind: Luke knew Kim had survived the air embolus—she had pulled out her IV in time; he had talked to her. Was it possible that Katz didn’t know this? Did he think he killed her with his injection of air into a bogus IV?

  Luke thought back to his last vision of Kim. She had closed her eyes and her hand had gone limp in his. Had she perhaps seen Katz approaching behind him and played possum as her only possible last defense?