As he reached the northern end of the park, he slowed to let his eyes adjust to the deepening darkness. Fires burning to his right--from the prison compound also known as high school--and reflected moonlight off aluminum trailers had spoiled his night vision.
Moments later, he was off again, staying close to the relative shelter of the outer row of trailers as he headed west in search of the crumbling old well. If his pack was still there, he could grab it and be gone before sunrise. Maybe he would continue on to Midling and check in on Lisa. He really hadn't minded traveling with her, and she would probably at least give him a place to crash for the night. If she was okay with it, he might even hang around there for awhile. It's not like he was in a rush to get anywhere.
She really does remind me of Marta, he thought, there are definitely worse places I could be than with her. Besides, if Prophet sets up his little cult compound here in Webster, we may be safe out there.
Fighting was something David chose to be done with, most of his life was long enough to waste on protecting people who didn't appreciate him. Since arriving in Webster he had realized a few things about humanity, none of them good. It was obvious that some of the men in the gang were new recruits and not from the prison. That meant they were probably local boys roughing up and imprisoning their own neighbors. Looting their own town. To someone like David--who had felt lost and homeless for the better part of a decade--that was a capital offense. A town that raised people like that deserved to be razed by someone like the Prophet.
Sounds of pursuit interrupted bitter thoughts and sent Saul sliding under the nearest shelter. It turned out to be a newer model Jeep, which looked completely out of place here among the dilapidated trailers. Lying quietly in the dark, he concentrated with ears trained to detect movement--training that seemed to be from another life than he lived now. Voices carried through the desert air, sounding angry and breathless even if he couldn't make out the words. Focusing his attention on the conversation, he tuned out all other distractions of the night.
"...you're going! I would..."
"...had her until...got in my..."
"Idiot! If he...answer to..."
From the snippets he could make out, David felt safe. If they were looking for him, it would probably have been a more thorough search. Probably wouldn't be calling me 'her' either.
The sharp crack of a twig made him suddenly aware of the precarious position he had put himself in. All attention focused on the voices, the man who prided himself on his situational awareness had ignored the quieter sounds of someone creeping up on the Jeep. Cursing himself silently, Saul kept perfectly still and willed the footsteps to pass by. Ever so slowly the sounds traversed the length of the vehicle behind him. For a moment he was back in another desert, lying next to half the corpse of his best friend, playing dead so that he might live. The sharp smell of blood mingled with the smoke and charred flesh drifting on the angry wind; his gag reflex threatening to hand him over to be shot, decapitated, or worse. The urge for a glass of Grand Marnier was so strong he thought he might cry out. Then it was gone, and he was back under the Jeep.
The stalker had passed by, allowing David to let out a breath full of fear. When the original voices shouted in alarm, however, a flurry of footfalls returned to his makeshift foxhole, followed by the strangely unexpected sound of someone sliding in next to him.
Maybe I do need that drink.
67
Catching sight of the little blond girl at the end of the row was a rare stroke of good fortune for Adam. After Guy Smiley's clumsy takedown earlier, the pair had been spotted arguing as the Prophet himself walked by en route to the school. Despite their best efforts to explain the child's escape, their boss was not happy, to say the least. In a rare loss of temper--mostly at Smiley, of course--the leader pronounced a death sentence on the kid, and set Adam and his partner to carry it out.
For a while it seemed they may be searching all through the night, but then she had stumbled back across their path. Now, with the awkward but fast little guy moving around to flank her, the girl was trapped. His reputation as a guy who gets things done would be established, and the sky would officially be the limit.
All I have to do now is kill an innocent little girl.
Curiously, the young man found himself wondering what Saul would think if he saw him now. He shook off the thought firmly as he advanced on his victim.
68
Lisa was near exhaustion, yet still she moved through the crowd of injured captives. She was fully aware of all the eyes on her, but not dwelling on that allowed her to focus. Her skill as a nurse was all she had to hold onto now; everyone she knew in this violent new world was dead or gone. She secretly took for granted that her parents were dead, and probably David and Eve, as well. It would be on par with the rest of her luck that as soon as she meets someone like him, he dies.
Convict or not, the man had changed her. Where she once dreamed of adventure while bitterly accepting her meaningless place in the world, David had made her feel like she was somebody--if only by extension. Sure, she was no hero herself, but even living in the shadow of greatness could make a girl feel special. Now, of course, that shadow had lifted, exposing her again to the harsh glare of mediocrity. And so she turned back to nursing, where her ambition met her reality.
A hand on her shoulder drew her attention, and she looked up to see a beautiful woman with tragically sad eyes behind her.
"Here," she said simply as she offered a cup of water.
Lisa took it with a weak smile of gratitude, and turned back to her patient. She realized then that there was nothing more she could do, so she scanned the group for the next job.
"You've been through each of them at least twice." The hand had not moved from her shoulder, and she detected a note of something--pity?--in the melodic voice.
Exhaustion set in along with the realization of all she had done, and Lisa let herself be guided to a seat in the bleachers. A stern looking man draped a blanket across her shoulders against the chill. All around her, people scurried about to make sure she was comfortable; a fact of great consternation to the simple nurse.
"Why are you doing all this?" Lisa asked, her voice tired.
The man who had given her the blanket smiled warmly--had she really thought his features stern?--and replied. "No one knows you, but you've been here for hours tending to our wounded. We knew those boys over there; raised them and grew up with them. But none of us tried to help them. I'm ashamed to say we were all too concerned with our own conditions to think of anyone else. Then you came along: a living, breathing Good Samaritan. Well, the least we can do is give you the little comfort we have to offer."
Lisa looked around, bewildered. "Hours? Has it really been hours?"
"Near as we can tell," responded the woman with the angelic voice. "There was a commotion outside, then they dumped you in here and went out to argue in the hall."
"They had a girl, too. Did she come in with me?"
"No, you were alone," the man answered.
"Just rest, please." The woman took the empty cup from her hand. "My name is Rachel. If you need anything we can offer, just ask."
Lisa summoned up her best smile for the kindness. "Thank you, Rachel. Thank you all. My name is Lisa, and if I can get a short rest, I'll check on your--I mean our--wounded again."
Settling back into her blanket, Brittsen closed her eyes and tried to forget the horrors of the day. Her mind was sluggish, swallowing thoughts of David and Eve before they could form. As weariness overtook her, a faint sound at the edge of her consciousness touched her very soul with sadness.
It sounded like an angel crying.
69
Cramped under the vehicle, David had almost no room to maneuver as his new neighbor moved in next to him. It was nearly pitch black in the confined space, but in the dim moonlight he thought he saw a flash of blond hair. The intruder bumped into him and let out a yelp as she--at least he hoped that sound came from a female
--realized she wasn't alone. She was small, which was a definite advantage for the location; it allowed her to turn a shocked face toward him. Saul was certain that his face mirrored hers when he saw the girl. It was a little kid!
After all he'd been through; all the chases, beatings, and bondage; he was going to be caught and probably killed because this runt chose his Jeep to hide under. If she could avoid giving them away, maybe he could help her, but he was done risking his own life for strangers.
"I lost my shoe."
Great, she's decided I'm not a threat and wants to chat.
"Then go find it and find another place to hide," Saul whispered harshly. "Preferably one that doesn't lead them to me!"
"I can't!" she whined. "If I go back out there they'll get me again!" Her eyes shone with a mortal terror he hadn't seen in years.
His mind said survive at any cost. His heart said protect her like he had failed to protect his own daughter. His soul, it seemed, was nowhere to be found.
His body shoved her violently away from him and back out into the open.
Saul was vaguely aware that she banged her head on the undercarriage as she slid away from him. His own raw fear had replaced the blood in his veins. So many times he had been in life or death situations, but always confident. Possibly because he was usually armed, and almost never trapped under a mid-size sport utility vehicle. Now, his heart raced as never before. Images of the mangled body of Lieutenant Garcia flashed past him, and David wondered what it would be like to beg for death. A strength he had felt inside him his entire life was gone. Was this what it felt like when God turned his back on you? Or when you turned your back on Him?
Squirming around ninety degrees, the forsaken one positioned himself to watch either side pursuit was likely from. He watched as the girl tried to regain her feet, a task made all the more difficult by the sobs that racked her body, and the missing shoe.
She'd have done the same to me, he told himself.
With truly remarkable resolve, the blond stood and tried to compose herself as she hurriedly looked for her shoe. Finding it near the Jeep tire, she crammed her foot in and started to jog away. David knew he should feel guilty as she stumbled off with one hand holding her head, but no other emotions seemed capable of breaking through the fear.
She had only gone a few steps when a wiry little man came skidding around the corner in front of her, obviously out of breath. Spinning quickly, she ran back toward the vehicle, and David's fear put his heart into overdrive, racing so fast he almost looked for a checkered flag. Past him, she ran, pursued closely by the Prophet's man. Before she reached the end of the next trailer, the girl came to an abrupt halt.
A new shadow appeared in front of her, and she shook visibly. David understood her reaction; the shadow was menacing even from the shelter of darkness. He stepped forward and the shadows came with him, as if light itself feared to touch him.
As the man spoke, David found his soul again. It screamed in anguish as the one he couldn't save prepared to kill the one he didn't try to.
70
"Stop running, kid." Adam spoke in a voice colder than he knew he possessed. "There is nowhere to go anymore, you're just wasting your time."
She was terrified, that was easy to see. Tall for her age, he still didn't see how she could have been so much trouble. He watched as she looked around desperately, searching for a way out. Her eyes lingered on a red Jeep next door; did she think she could drive out of the danger? Adam smiled at the thought.
Smiley stood next to him, breathing loudly and smelling like whatever farm he had come from. In the short time he had known the guy, he had been nothing but an annoyance.
"Go tell the Prophet we got the girl."
That should keep him away from me for awhile. The other man's face lit up at the prospect of delivering such an important message to the big guy. He obviously didn't think about the fact that now Adam would get to be the one who carried out the actual order.
Smiley ran off, but Adam's eyes never left his target. Easing his pistol out of his waistline, a question occurred to him. "You had quite a head start on us. Why did you keep running instead of ducking into one of the trailers and hiding?"
She glanced back toward the Jeep again, probably wishing she had thought of hiding there. Unexpectedly, she wiped the tears from her eyes and met his look squarely.
"I won't hide from you. I want to see my mom and dad!" The strength in her voice was surprising and it took him a moment to recover from the shock.
"Sorry, but we have other plans for you. But hey, I'm sure your parents will be joining you soon."
Instead of breaking, the girl grew bolder. What's with this kid?
With an icy and firm voice she addressed him through teary eyes. "Was it you? Did you kill my father?"
Her words shredded Adam to the core. How could he respond? No, but I'm going to kill you? For the second time today, a complete stranger had asked him if he had killed a loved one. Unless the golden hair, strong features, and direct manner were deceiving him; they asked about the same man.
How did I miss that? If she was a foot taller she would be her mother's twin!
"I've never killed anyone. Would everyone quit asking me that?" Adam's hand shook as he raised the gun; his actions provided dramatic irony to his words. His mind spun as he tried to straighten out all of this. How had he got himself in this twisted position?
Help me! he silently screamed his prayer into the abyss where his humanity had once resided. God, if You're real, save me now!
71
It couldn't have been more than a minute since he had first heard Adam's voice, but David felt more time should have passed. It wasn't fair that sixty seconds could shake him so badly; it shouldn't have been enough time to cause him so much pain. The knowledge of how far into the Prophet's mindset the young man had fallen was startling. While far from perfect, this guy never would have even considered the execution he was about to perform. Never, that is, until he became a disciple of Matthew Hutchins. Never, until Saul failed him. Now that same remorseless philosophy gnawed at David's mind like a bunch of worms devouring his dead soul.
David knew that he himself was gone--there was no question in his mind. After everything he put his family through, he became a monster long before he set foot in the prison. Creepy Brin and his guys gave him hope for awhile with stories of sacrifice, but that was a delusion. They threw around words like grace, forgiving, and redemption; but those words were no more real than the god that offered them. The Prophet spoke of greed, forsaking, and retribution. These were real things that Saul--and this entire world--knew well. They were real systems that worked in the world. No one could deny them.
Except this little girl. Her father dead, her mother missing. She had lost everything. Almost. This girl possessed nothing more than the power to save or condemn him, and she chose to save. Moments after David sent her to her death, she forgave him. She would die, yet let him live.
Grace defeated greed as he was forgiven instead of forsaken. His mind grappled with this realization and a new question formed. Is redemption possible?
That answer seemed a long way off, but one thing was immediately clear: David could not allow this murder. If Adam pulled that trigger, all three of their lives would end in an instant.
Saul frantically scrambled out from under the Jeep, suddenly racing the clock of eternal damnation.
72
Lisa sat at the dinner table across from her father, sipping her tea without a care in the world. Her mother, who labored cheerfully at the kitchen counter, had made it in her "secret" style. Adding a bit of cinnamon and steeping it with a slice of apple wasn't exactly a secret, but they all maintained the illusion happily. Her father turned the pages in the latest Backpacker magazine with one hand, while the other idly scratched her rottweiler Rex behind the ears.
Funny, Rex had been put down when she was only a child for biting the neighborhood bully who picked on her incessantly. He looked goo
d, though; especially for a dead dog.
Something about this whole scene was suspicious, but Lisa was far too comfortable to care. It was a lethargic, peaceful day, and she intended to enjoy it. Walking to the window, she gazed out on a scene that was all wrong. Where the pond should have sat at the edge of the property, there were only clouds. The entire yard was now made up of sky, with the house suspended miraculously in the middle. Lisa sipped her tea and looked up, where she was only moderately surprised to see the back lot as it should be. Except, of course, it wasn't supposed to be above her.
Turning back to tell her parents about this, Lisa noticed that all the chairs were now balancing impossibly on their backs, spaced appropriately around the table, which now rested on its top with legs sticking up into the air. Only the place where her father sat remained upright, and he carried on with his magazine as if everything was alright. Odd.
Lisa looked to her mother. With a bright smile on her face, she continued to roll out a pie crust. Next to her, the knife rack stood overturned. Spices all sat on their lids. Her mother smiled at her. Strange.
She took another swallow of tea. "Do you guys think everything will turn right-side-up again?" she asked.
"Well, I haven't really thought about it, I guess," answered Mom. "We're all fine, so I guess I just didn't worry about it at all."
Mr. Brittsen, ever the aspiring philosopher, pulled the pipe out of his mouth thoughtfully. "Things always return to normal, but what is normal? Is it normal when everything becomes as it once was? Or is it normal when it's been wrong for so long that we accept it?"
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