Crescent Lake

by David Sakmyster

  The diner passed in a flash on their left. A brief look told Audrey a scene of some importance was transpiring: it looked like the Reverend was leading a private sermon inside; she thought she saw another man crawling toward the back of the diner, and then the lights were quickly left behind, and the car was plunging into the darkness of the forest.

  Before the treetops blotted out the sky, Audrey glimpsed a fat quarter moon peeking behind a dark, feathery cloud.

  Nick huddled under his windbreaker behind the trunk of a huge pine tree. Crickets screeched at him for invading their sacred ground, and small animals raced around in the growth. He was at the edge of a clearing, ten yards from where the road ended and the wild grass took over. The moon dipped behind a ragged cloud and the shadows were obliterated in an instant as the land plunged into a quasi-darkness.

  It had taken nearly eight minutes, by the light on his watch, to reach this point. Of course he should have been here in half that time, but, having never been a Boy Scout, he couldn't navigate to save his life. Once in the forest, where the stars were no longer accessible, he was soon weaving around trees and climbing rocks and fallen branches.

  But finally he had found it, and now he sat and shivered again, and wondered why the wind here in this barren area was colder than anywhere else. Nick also was struck by the odd nature of this place. He had tripped over several hard objects that felt like broken pieces of concrete. There was gravel in one section and pieces of wood that felt charred and rotted. He found himself wishing he had asked Stan what had been here before. It must have been another home or a building of some kind. Why else the road? Why the rubble?

  Nick thought about this for the next few minutes, as the clouds passed and the moon again spied over the land, probing Nick's hiding place. He squirmed deeper into the windbreaker, and blew into his hands to warm them.

  A car engine rumbled in the distance. Nick peered over the edge of the grass, saw a faint glimmering in the distance, between the forested archway.

  Please let it be Audrey.

  The light grew and separated into two distinct spheres that approached at an alarmingly fast rate. The roar of the engine was overpowering. Nick slunk lower to the ground. White brilliance washed over the grass and painted the oak tree on its way to stabbing through the forest.

  The car screeched to a halt.

  A door opened.

  Holding his breath, Nick peeked around the tree. He saw her just as she softly called his name, and he lunged to his feet before the word faded. He broke into a sprint the last few steps to the road, slowing only when he had passed beyond the blinding glare of the headlights.

  He saw Audrey clearly now, standing outside the car, tense and professional. Two more steps and her composure broke down; he saw it first in her eyes which melted with relief. Then in her body which seemed to tremble; and finally, in a very unprofessional smile.

  One more step and she still held back, desperately clinging to the code of the job.

  Nick took her in his arms and she returned the hug with surprising energy. He felt her hot breath on his neck, then her lips fiercely pressed against his cheek.

  Someone inside the car cleared his throat. They released each other, Nick the last to let go. She met his eyes, and hers reflected a wild combination of surprise and excitement.

  Two doors opened and two well-dressed men sauntered out onto the road. "Murphy," one of them said, nodding to him, then looking around the forest. "How far to your house?"

  Nick looked to Audrey for understanding.

  She rolled her eyes. "They have the bright idea to hole-up inside and wait for Stielman."

  Nick laughed. "It's your funeral, boys." He pointed into the forest. "North, Northeast for about a five minute walk. Lights are still on in the kitchen. You can't miss it." He tossed them the keys. Good luck.

  The agent from the back seat hefted a shotgun over his shoulder. "Let's roll," he said to his partner. Wearing impish smiles, they set off into the woods.

  Nick slid into the front seat, buckling the belt immediately. He jumped, startled to see the Librarian in the back seat. Audrey shut her door and the car light faded. Back in the shadows, Grant whispered, "We have to get out now. Silver Springs will be rather inhospitable the next few hours. Even for me."

  Audrey spun the car around and sped back the way they had come. Nick shot an admiring glance at Audrey, then looked back at Grant. The librarian was smiling at him, as if sensing his budding attraction for Audrey. Nick wondered if Grant might even know better than he what he felt for this woman. Was it simply a reaction to the stress, or to the emptiness in his life since Sally's death, or–

  "More," Grant whispered, grinning.

  "Stop that!" Nick said harshly, eliciting a hearty smile from the librarian. "Where's Lloyd? How could he have missed me?" He turned to Grant after Audrey couldn't answer. "Have you seen anyone new tonight? A big man–"

  "You'll see him in just a few moments," Grant replied. "But only for a second."

  "Where is he?" Audrey turned and asked.

  Grant folded his hands behind his head and sat back in the seat. As they rounded a bend and swerved to avoid a raccoon, he said: "Right about now he should be attending a Ceremony with the good Reverend."

  They passed the diner doing about forty-five. When they hurtled past the alleyway that Grant had pointed out, they only had a second to view the scene.

  But it was enough.

  Nick saw it the clearest. The window rolled down, he looked right into the alley where the scene flashed before his eyes like one of the slides in a projector gone haywire. But it was enough time to see the two figures, the heavier, balding man kneeling before the tall, silver-haired one. The Reverend's hands on Lloyd's head, his touch gentle, compassionate.

  And Lloyd's eyes red and streaming with tears. Tears of thanks, tears of redemption.

  Grant cleared his throat. "Silver Springs just got its newest convert."

  They checked the house out thoroughly.

  "I'll take first watch," Allen said, tapping the shotgun against his palm. In the kitchen, Gregory set down his Beretta and started rummaging through the refrigerator.

  "Want a sandwich?" he asked.

  Allen paused in the hallway. "What kind?"

  "Uh. Bologna and cheese? That's about all the guy has."

  "Good 'nuff." Allen walked to the door. "Flick the light on and off twice when it's ready. I'll be outside prowlin' around."

  "All right. Remember: Wound him first. We want him to squeal."

  "Don't worry," Allen said, opening the door. "Wouldn't kill him without you, buddy."

  Gregory opened the jar of mayonnaise and was digging inside when he realized he hadn't heard the front door close. It opened – and Allen must have walked out, but why didn't he close it?

  Suddenly cautious, Gregory reached for the Beretta and flicked off the safety. He rounded the counter. A foolish man would have immediately called out for Allen. But Gregory knew better.

  He stepped toward the hallway. The front door was still out of his sight, but in a moment he would drop, move and aim, ready to squeeze off a couple rounds into anyone who might be creeping in.

  A light draft wafted in from the screen door, chilling the nape of his neck. And suddenly Gregory cursed himself for an idiot. He had forgotten the back porch. In a moment of utter fear he spun around and pointed the gun at the screen.

  "Shit," he whispered. With the light on inside the kitchen he couldn't make out a thing outside. He was a sitting duck, lucky only that the enemy was far less skilled–

  An arm swung around the corner from the hallway. Silent and deadly it whipped in an arc and expertly placed a heavy, serrated blade against Gregory's throat, tickling his jugular.

  Gregory nearly fainted; he had seen the blade, and it was crimson and still wet.

  The man slid around the wall and grabbed the Beretta out of Gregory's hand. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans and a hat, but was easily recognizable from the
FBI photos.

  "Stielman," he said, and winced under the stench of powerful cologne.

  Lloyd winked at him. "Nice to meet you too," he said and slit agent Gregory's throat from ear to ear, bringing the knife across in a masterfully artistic motion.

  Gregory gagged and brought his hands to his throat in a vain attempt to stop the torrential gushing blood. Lloyd reached down and wiped the blade on Gregory's suit, holding the agent's shoulders to keep him still as he jerked and thrashed in his final moments.

  When the body was motionless Lloyd looked around the room. He walked upstairs and returned several moments later. After a moment of sniffing the air, he stood in the hallway and raised a hand.

  Through the door stepped Stuart and the Reverend. The former was visibly shaken upon viewing the body. Reverend Zachary merely nodded and laid a gloved hand on Lloyd's shoulder.

  Lloyd bowed his head. "They were evil?"

  Reverend Zachary looked into his eyes. "Oh, yes. You were perfectly justified in these killings." He emphasized the distinction, as if to remind Lloyd that he was no longer in control here. "You've done well."

  Stuart's face darkened. He took a few steps back.

  When Lloyd looked up, his smile was huge. Again he dropped to his knees before the Reverend, the man who had taken away the horrors of his past and had shown him the light. Lloyd was a new man, one whose skills would be tested like never before, against an adversary far more worthy than any he had faced up till now. He had now donned the armor of the Lord, and with Zachary as his General, he would triumph over any enemy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Five minutes after crossing the Darrington border Grant issued the okay for Nick to raise his head. He and the librarian had been ducking out of view for nearly a mile and a half, since Grant had a sudden clairvoyant image of men with high-tech binoculars and communications equipment waiting off the side of the road.

  Their entrance undetected, Audrey drove straight for the nearest hotel. After a few seconds in the Holiday Inn parking lot, Grant determined the hotel was free of other lookouts.

  "Lloyd was a bit too confident," Audrey said as they carried the two small bags up to the front desk. "He should have staked out the hotels as well."

  Nick said nothing. His thoughts were back in Silver Springs. Certain images tumbled over and over in his mind; pieces of dreams fluttered with reality. There were too many unanswered questions, too many loose ends. He knew Audrey was planning to call headquarters and order a massive investigation of the town, and part of him just wanted to sit back and watch the fireworks from a distance. But another, stronger aspect was rising in conflict.

  Yeah, do that again. Just lay on the couch and let someone else drive.

  They went outside again and climbed a set of stone stairs to the next level. Along the way, Nick's imagination conjured an image of little Theresa, hugging her mother's leg, shying away from him. What would happen to her? he wondered. And what about Stan? Who could say what such an infusion of outsiders would do in this situation? He sensed it could result in another Waco… and he imagined the converts holed up in the church, warding off the Feds for weeks.

  Nick leaned against the wall outside their second-floor room. They were standing on the walkway, an iron fence overlooking an enclosed area which included a jungle gym and a swing set. Audrey fumbled with the room key and the lock as Nick walked to the edge and leaned on the railing. Grant was at his side, watching him carefully. Nick looked up at the sky, at the host of sprinkled stars and the inflating moon.

  Can you live with the guilt again? Can you do it?

  He turned around suddenly, as Audrey swung the door inward and flicked the light.

  Calmly he said, "We have to go back."

  In the room's pale radiance Grant's features drew into a smile. He stepped forward and laid a hand on Nick's shoulder before Audrey could respond. Grant said, "I follow what you're thinking, son. They're good thoughts, they make sense."

  "What are you two talking about?" Audrey came out onto the walkway. "You can't be serious. We – at least Nick and I – are not going back to Silver Springs until Stielman is dead and that town is cleaned up. If we ever go back." She fixed him with a stern look. "It's over my head now. I'm calling this in and the big boys are going to take care of it. My job is just to keep you safe. In the morning, we're going to keep going north, into Canada until this thing blows over, and then–"

  Nick shook his head and cut her off. "No. We're not. I'm going back. I have to." He couldn't meet Audrey's frustrated expression. "I'm going back because I can't run anymore. Because..."

  Audrey slid out of the doorway and reached for his hands. "Please Nick," she said in a low voice. "Don't feel it's your responsibility. It's not. The past is gone, you can't change it."

  "But I can make up for it."

  "Yes, you can. But not like this. The best way is just to live, to survive. You're too important to risk your life like this."

  He looked straight in her eyes and said, "You mean too important to the Federal Government, right? Their star witness can't be jeopardized. Isn't that it?"

  Audrey flinched but didn't let go of his hands. She moved closer. "Yes, you're important to the State. But, damn it Nick... You're too important to me, too."

  Grant whistled and turned away, as if this was the corniest scene he'd ever witnessed. "Miss Harper," he said without turning around. "Nick is right about this. Of course you must do what is required. You must live up to the standards of that badge you carry. But just keep one thing in mind. There is more at stake here than your witness protection operation. No slight intended, son."

  "Understood," Nick replied. "And I must beg you, Audrey, to look at this in another way."

  "The three of us," Grant said, "Going in alone have a better chance than a score of your federal agents. Especially if those two I met were any indication of overall character."

  Audrey gave an exasperated sigh. "This makes no sense, though. What are we hoping to accomplish? To sneak in and pick off Lloyd and the Reverend and by their murders somehow make Silver Springs safe again?"

  Grant shook his head. He walked into the room, urging them to follow. Behind the closed door they sat at the edges of the two beds. Grant flicked on the bedside lamp. A Bible lay on the stand. "Listen," he said. "We have to go back because there are innocent lives at stake, some of which may be beyond our ability to save. And yes, the Reverend has to be stopped, but I doubt that ordinary bullets would do the job."

  Audrey almost laughed out loud. "Come on, what are we talking about here? Should I stock up on silver bullets? Do we need some sharpened stakes and a hammer? I could stop at the market and get some garlic on our way out."

  Nick frowned. "Grant, so what has the Reverend become? I mean, you had the same sort of transition, and you're–"

  Grant raised a hand, palm out. "Trust me," he said. "I could show you proof beyond what you require. But I have no interest in living through any more pain. You see, one day last year I was experimenting with my abilities. I was actually levitating objects from my kitchen. But I was rash and inexperienced, and the power got out of hand."

  "Levitating?" Audrey whispered.

  Grant continued, ignoring her. "A butcher knife, one of those long and fat suckers, whizzed by my head. Sliced right into the bone on my left temple before I finally figured out how to stop the – whatever they call it – the telekinetic forces. My head hurt like a bitch for about ten minutes. I was in the bathroom trying to clean the wound when it just started to heal right up. These snake-like threads were spinning and weaving around each other. They formed a layer of muscle, and then blood was pumping underneath, and finally skin sealed over."

  He took a breath and leaned back. "So what I'm saying is that if I heal like that, I'm sure the good Reverend is much quicker. A bullet might slow him down, but unless you blew his head apart I doubt it would do you much good."

  Nick considered this. "So," he said, "then how do we stop him?" />
  Grant fixed her with a curious look. "We don't. You and Audrey are going to find my daughter and get her to safety. Along with anyone else who will leave."

  Nick felt a sudden concern for the old man. "You're going to challenge Zachary alone?"

  "I'm an old man who's lived a good life, but, like both of you, there's one thing I regret. One dark shadow on my life. Something I'll carry with me to the grave and beyond, if, like you, I do not in my own way atone for it."

  Audrey and Nick looked at him with blank, speechless faces.

  "I'm never going to enjoy the love of my daughter, Nick. There is nothing more for me here but to try to leave my mark in some way. If it's my fate, I'll see Silver Springs restored. But I've got to try this myself. I have the best chance; I still have talents you haven't seen, and others you wouldn't believe. I'll hold my own."

  "And if you both die?" Audrey suggested, still fighting.

  Nick put a finger to her lips, as much to spare Grant from further difficulty as to end the arguing. "I'm sorry, Audrey. Call it macho foolishness or chalk it up to my grand moral delusions, but this has to be the way. I've got to see this through. I can't – can't let someone else drive this time."

  "I could stop you," Audrey said in a low voice, without raising her eyes.

  Grant laughed. "Let's not go there again."

  "You don't have to come," Nick said.

  Audrey blinked and looked away. Grant was eyeing her closely. She felt his scrutiny, imagined him prying into her thoughts. But then another presence emerged, someone who said, you never let your partner go on without you. You're a team. Where he goes, you go. And for once, the negative imagery of the hospital didn't come with this sight of her father.

  She stood, flashing a quick glance to Grant. "You were listening," she said. "You tell him."

  Grant rose, smiling. "She's coming, Nick. And I think you'd have enormous difficulty keeping her away."

  Twenty minutes later, eating Chinese food out of cardboard containers, they discussed the plans for tomorrow.