Bret held her close. He lifted back the sopping clump of hair from her face. “When I opened my eyes again I was lying on my back floating on this . . . It’s all that’s left of my home. I saw you but you were too far away. The water rose again and I thought—”
Gabrielle kissed Bret. She buried her face against his neck and cried. “My father . . . Oh God. No.”
“It’s all right, Gabrielle, I’m here now.” He pulled her closer. “Your house is farther north. Maybe the water hasn’t gone that far inland.”
The flood lifted the wall up and slammed it down again, spraying water down on them from all sides. They lay flat on their stomachs holding onto the edge, their legs splayed out behind them.
The hurricane lashed and wailed against Gabrielle’s ears, a melee of screeches and screams that sounded human one moment, hellish the next. The wind blasted her exposed skin and the rain and flood drenched her shivering body.
For a few moments it felt as if their life-preserving wall was settling on smaller, more even waves, only to plunge and ascend a minute later into the next trough of the cascading deluge.
As far as Gabrielle could see, the flood waters had risen and engulfed Galveston in a stewing surge, spreading out in ever widening, frothy white caps to the four corners of the endless night.
Vanishing images of the dead and forsaken assailed her; bodies strewn in the waves, children clinging to wreckage, their families yelling and waving their arms from the roofs of buildings before the foundations gave way and collapsed, submerging all in the torrent’s merciless carnage.
“Bret . . . my hands. They’re so cold I can’t feel anything.”
He clamped down one arm over the back of Gabrielle’s neck and shoulders, gripping the edge again with his cut and bleeding hand. He smiled. “They’ll have to cut them off before I ever let go of you again. We’re staying together no matter what.”
Gabrielle pressed herself against his side. Bret felt like a rock, her last refuge from the drowning waters and the only hope she could cling to.
The broken section of the parlor wall climbed the waves, taking erratic, violent turns with each crash of the water against its four sides. At any moment Gabrielle was certain they would be swallowed up like the city in nature’s vengeful damnation of humanity. “If one of us lives they have to promise—”
“Stop . . . no. Don’t talk like that.”
“But we have to. I love you . . . I always have. I don’t believe you’d kill—”
Bret blew the water away from his mouth. “I know, I know. If we still have life left . . . we’ll have time for love again, Gabrielle. I promise.” A sharp wave sliced over the edge into their faces. “Just keep your head above the waves and hold on.”
Mute certainty possessed Gabrielle’s thoughts. There was nothing more to say or do now. If the hurricane didn’t blow them into the rushing water first, the waves might just as easily shatter the wall to pieces under their cold, stiff fingers.
No prayer could beat back her fear from the edge of hysteria, or hold more power of hope for saving their lives.
Bret’s words, his presence, his unwavering determination, these were her only beacons of hope in the roiling abyss. If there was a chance for them—this was it. Her old life had slipped away between the wind and water, but from them, a new one might yet rise up.
Bret’s arm pressed down across the back of her upper shoulder and neck. “Keep your head above the water and hold on!”
Gabrielle flattened herself as much as she could, pinning her body to the inside surface of the wall as if she were a figurine nailed to the wood. From out of the unseeing eye of night, a hurricane blast of uncontrollable, seething rage threw the wall forward, skipping it across the water like a flat stone.
The raft splashed down again into the flood, spraying salt water into their faces. They coughed and scrambled forward on their stomachs to regain their grips.
Gabrielle clutched the edge of the wall. The deafening shriek of the hurricane pierced her ears, and her silent prayers were snatched and carried away on the ferociously beating wings of the wind. But she would not allow her final terrified scream—death’s victory—to rise from her throat.
All hopes and horrors coalesced into one cold, numbing question. Are we going to live or die? Life might be mere seconds now. How could she expect anything more?
“Hold on, Gabrielle!” Bret’s voice was nearly drowned in the colliding waves. “Nothing else matters!” He inched one hand along the edge until he clutched hers.
Gabrielle tensed every muscle in her body again, pressing and rubbing herself against the grain of the wet wood paneling until she felt a splinter pierce her cheek.
Bret held her hand down tight against the wood. He raised his head as if trying to see something in the murky distance. “Some brick buildings are still standing. If the current carries us toward them . . . just keep holding on!”
Gabrielle shivered under her drenched clothes, her teeth chattering so much she feared she would bite off her tongue and choke before the saltwater should finally fill her throat.
CHAPTER 26
Saturday, September 8, 7:00 p.m.
Caden touched the two-inch cut on his forehead. The blood was almost dry now, and the palpitating ache behind his eyes was vanishing, making it easier to focus on what was happening around him.
The water had already risen past the first and second floors of the Society hall and was at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the third floor bedrooms.
He grinned. Nature had been kind enough to provide a fitting end to the troublesome Mr. McGowan. Just another unfortunate soul who perished in the storm’s raging flood waters.
The deafening downpour expelled by the ferocious hurricane had broken windows, and worse, borne down upon the wooden homes with immense flying fragments of brick, hurling these fragile sanctuaries into masses of confused ruin to be swept away by the unyielding flood.
He looked down from the third floor window to gauge the progress of the racing waters outside. Every trial is nature’s test of her creations. Those who should remain, shall, and those who should not must return to the chaos from which we first emerged.
Caden turned back toward the bed.
Rebecca, her eyes still closed, lay on her comforter, draped only in her white satin dressing gown. Depending on the amount Edward used, the effect of the ether should wear off soon.
She moved her head from side to side with agitated jerks as her mouth clamped down against the belt from her gown that Edward had used to gag her. Her ankles and wrists were tied with rope to the four corners of the cherry wood frame.
Edward stood at the foot of her bed. “When the storm is over and Rebecca has more time to reflect on her obligations I’m certain she will agree with you, sir.”
“Yes, Rebecca will not implicate herself for the part she played in both McGowan’s and DeRocha’s tragic deaths.”
Caden stepped back from the closed window and locked the shutter again. He walked over to the side of the bed and looked down on his niece. “Women can hang just as easily as men and that understanding will go a long way to dictating her conscience.”
Edward lowered his head and stared at Rebecca.
Caden observed that his assistant’s lustful gaze fixed on his vulnerable niece lying on the bed, a desirable, fertile woman no longer forbidden to him by the social and moral constraints of a society that was disappearing around them by the minute.
Only the physical and spiritual walls of The Theogenesis Society could withstand the wrath of a cold and indifferent universe, and by surviving, choose its destiny and that of all mankind. Your destiny with Gabrielle must wait for the judgment of the storm. That is the last test to prove you both worthy, but the future can still begin . . . tonight.
Every clank and crash of debris against the external stone walls spurred Caden to quickly weigh the consequences of his decision.
With no signs of dwindling force, the storm might yet unl
eash its final hidden, lethal fury. Before the night was over, any one of them could take their last breath before nature had finally expelled hers.
Edward must do it now before she awakes. When Rebecca awoke, Caden could not risk that she would continue to disobey his authority. He had worked too hard and risked too much to allow a young woman’s caprice to jeopardize humanity’s only hope for survival.
Caden placed an encouraging hand on Edward’s shoulder. “You have waited long enough, my friend. Our great work begins tonight.”
His loyal disciple stared at him as though not understanding what he had just heard. “But Doctor, how—”
“Your time is now, Edward. Do you understand? Time waits for no man . . . I will be outside.”
As though invigorated by the fury of nature’s unleashed passion raging all around them, Edward obeyed Caden’s command with eagerness. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed his trousers.
Moving to the bed, he pulled aside the front of Rebecca’s gown. Edward ran his hand around and over her breasts. He leaned down and kissed her red, parted lips.
The brick walls creaked and the locked storm shutters buckled slightly, but continued to hold their own.
“Untie her first,” Caden instructed. “And remember she is my niece whom I adore.”
A series of rolling thumps reverberated off the outside wall, clamoring like large pieces of timber or trees dashing against the brick. The light, lavender tinted plaster on Rebecca’s bedroom wall chipped near the roof, sending a fine crack snaking a few feet down its surface.
The room shook as more whacks and thumps pounded against the building walls, then another sound—like distant voices—numbed by the killer winds but not yet swallowed up by them.
“Doctor?” Edward stood. “Did you hear that? There might be people outside. We should—”
“Why?” Caden strode to the locked shutter. “Open these and let the storm in to consume us all? Nature favors those who favor themselves. The many must be sacrificed to save the few that matter most.”
Edward stepped away from the bed. “Of course, sir.” He picked up his shirt from the comforter. “But we’ve made many friends here and that’s why we should at least try to see who it is.”
Caden hung his head and rubbed his forehead. The pain behind his eyes returned. “I hear nothing but the unrelenting howl of an unforgiving storm.” He closed his heavy eyelids. “What other answer could there be to the pleading of the defeated?”
“But Doctor—”
“Control yourself.” Caden held up his hand. “Are you going to fail the test? Or are you only capable of doing so with one of Weems’s whores and the ones you take in the back alleys at night?”
Ashamed, Edward looked away to the wall.
Caden glared at him. “I don’t care what you did to the weak and undeserving but if we are to survive we must let nature do what must be done so that a new millennium can begin for those worthy—”
A jagged corner of building debris thrust through the hardwood shutters. The force of impact jolted Caden and Edward off their feet, hurling them to the floor.
The edge of the wreckage crashed through the double window like the bow of a rudderless ship, slicing a gash in the wall and letting the rushing water and storm spray into the room.
Over the blustering tumult of the storm, Caden heard the hoarse, choked yelling of a man outside. “Help us! Please! Is there anyone there? For God’s sake! We can’t hold on!”
Caden and Edward stepped to opposite sides of the damaged window. They peered over the edge and down the side of the wreckage.
It appeared to be a large section of an interior house wall, upended by the waves against the third floor of the Society hall like a beached raft.
Caden could barely distinguish two people at the bottom of the debris trying to clamber their way up the gutted side.
He gasped on recognizing the man and turned his attention to the other, a woman. Oh Gabrielle. Why did you help him? Must I save you again from your blind love for this arrogant, unrepentant failure of a man? He was certain now. It was nature’s choosing that he should stand here in judgment and decide their fate.
The water level had climbed past the second floor but did not appear to be rising as steadily as before.
Gabrielle stood drenched and barefooted while Bret raised her up so that she could get a secure foothold on the window ledge.
Her eyes flashed up through her soaked and matted hair. “Caden!” Gabrielle stretched her hand up toward him. “Please help us!”
Edward looked at Caden as though waiting for instruction on what to do next. Caden glanced back at the bed.
Rebecca was stirring from her ether sleep, moaning and blinking her eyes as consciousness returned. The opportunity is lost forever. Rebecca will never understand now . . . but Gabrielle . . .
Caden rushed back to the broken window. “Gabrielle, reach for my hand. I’ll save you!” Yes. Her gratitude alone for saving her life and consoling her for the great loss of family and friends would surely open her heart and affections to him. After tonight, you could be all she has left in this world.
The waves lapped at Bret McGowan’s shoulders. It seemed that one big push would capsize the wall and wash away the last of Caden’s torments for eternity.
“Don’t stand there like a frightened school boy.” He grabbed Edward’s arm. “Hold me steady while I pull her up!”
Caden straddled his legs against the brink of the wall. Bending over the edge, he lowered his upper body down as Edward held onto his thighs. “A little lower. I almost have her!”
The wall raft swayed to one side and a great howl of wind blasted in through the broken window. Pieces of rubble shot over Edward’s head. He lurched back, almost losing the support of the window ledge.
Rebecca moaned—not like before—but louder, as though feeling the pain of suffering for the first time. Edward craned his neck to the side until he could see her.
His beloved was sitting up in bed, her robe, body and face lacerated by fine, piercing debris. Blood trickled down against her powder-white skin.
She gaped down at her bleeding breasts then up at Edward. “Please.” She held her hands out toward him. “It hurts . . . it hurts so much. Uncle, help me!”
“Doctor! Rebecca—”
“I have her!” Caden yelled. “Pull me back! Pull!”
Clenching every muscle in his body, Edward pulled back on his master with a final burst of frantic strength. Doctor Hellreich cried out from the strain until two wet hands rose over the edge of the widow and grabbed the inside ledge.
Relieved, Edward relaxed his grip. The doctor would attend to Rebecca’s wounds now that they were safe then everything would be as he promised.
A few moments later a powerful hurricane blast punched the outside wall. Water sprayed in through the broken window, dousing the lantern and drowning everything in darkness.
The entire building seemed to stagger back from the blow, rocking on its foundations, unable to find secure ground again.
Rebecca screamed as Caden and Edward were thrown off their feet, letting Gabrielle fall back out through the window.
The room pitched up, then down, sending everything crashing forward toward the broken window.
Caden slammed the back of his head into the wall below the windowsill. He lay there under the ledge, trying to focus on something in the room again.
Roaring blasts of wind howled through the opening and in the moonlit haze overhead, he imagined he saw everything in the room gliding out through the window, rushing to meet the hurricane’s embrace.
Caden reached up and felt cool, wet skin passing above.
Then . . . nothing but dampness on his shaking fingertips and the eternal darkness of insensate night on his heavy eyes.
CHAPTER 27
Sunday, September 9, Dawn
The blood had dried on Philip’s forehead and no longer streamed into eyes as he groped his way among the staggered heaps of s
hattered homes and debris on the street.
Broken brick and timber lay strewn in piles from which twisted limbs and corpses stuck out at all angles. The groans of the dying were broken by the unearthly screams of despair from the living as they pulled out the bodies of those they had once held and loved.
As loud as these anguished cries were, none could drown his own voice echoing through his skull. Did they survive? Where are they? You have to find them.
Philip stumbled over the headless torso of a man. He covered his mouth and turned away. Dear God, no. They’re alive. They have to be.
He leaned against the shattered remnants of a farmer’s wagon and rested. Under the sun’s scorching heat, everything glowed in the fiery colors of a biblical nightmare, as though hell itself had risen from molten depths to claim its final dominion over Earth.
“Gabrielle Caldwell!” he yelled, his hoarse throat beyond the ache of feeling its strain. “Bret McGowan! Where are you?” He paused and listened for one of them to yell back.
The sudden crash of falling wreckage made him cower and cover his head, fearing the torrent of wind and water had returned to exact further payment from the blessed survivors who might not have deserved their good fortune. “Bret!” He lurched forward again. “Gabrielle!”
Exhausted and numb in the aftermath of the storm and his futile search, Philip’s neck and shoulders ached so much with excruciating painful it was difficult to turn his head even slightly in either direction.
His raw fingers, cracked after hours of hunting through the mounds of rubble and turning over broken, swollen bodies, made it difficult to steady his trembling hands. He only thanked God none of them had been Bret or Gabrielle.
Philip searched for a piece of dry wood. He picked up a broken baluster from someone’s staircase. He lay it on a small cooking fire as the huddled survivors around him pressed closer.
The flames rose and crackled but he didn’t feel any of the fire’s warmth or comfort amidst the heaps of destroyed buildings and lives strewn in the mud on Avenue P.
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