Once he stepped onto the platform, memories of the last time he was here flooded him. Memories of O’Malley’s fervent eyes and his descent into madness that night he’d tried to murder the Grants.
He’d not see the man since that night in the alleyway and hoped never to again. Still, he knew O’Malley well enough to know that if he had set his mind on Matthew, nothing would sway him from his course. Matthew had been on edge ever since, only going the places most necessary, and never out at night.
How O’Malley had managed to escape from being arrested and tried, Matthew could not fathom. He’d given account of O’Malley’s involvement, as had Annabelle, yet somehow things pertaining to O’Malley’s certificate of arrest kept slipping through someone’s notice.
If Matthew didn’t know better, he would think that someone worked to keep O’Malley from his due next to the others held on trial. Because, if Dr. Mudd had not escaped arrest for such a minor thing as giving medical aid to a man in need, then how had O’Malley not been sought after with more gusto?
The train whistle blew, and Matthew shrugged off the questions. All he wanted now was to get back to Mississippi. Let O’Malley live out his days in hiding. What did it matter to him?
Matthew handed over his ticket and stepped into the train car, selecting a seat near the back by the window. Not many others joined the car, and the spattering of travelers congregated more toward the fore. He’d be able to travel in relative solitude.
He settled back in his seat and watched as Washington gave way to open lands, and thanked the Lord he’d been granted his freedom. What would become of those accused? Execution? Imprisonment?
Had it not been for Annabelle, they might very well have been successful in capturing Lincoln back in March. Then Matthew might have been sitting in the Old Capitol Prison with the others, waiting to see if the noose would find his neck.
His sweet Annabelle. How he longed to see her once more and become the man she deserved. It would take a lot of prayer, yes, but Lord willing, he would be able to be the man worthy of such a precious woman.
Matthew closed his eyes and tried to think once more about what to get her for a wedding gift. New furnishings, perhaps? Rosswood had been a bit bare the last time he’d been there and—
Something snaked around his neck and bit into his skin. Matthew lurched, but he was held firm against the back of the chair by the intense pressure cutting off his air. Flailing his arms, Matthew tried to scream, but nothing escaped the noose choking him. He clawed his fingers into his neck, his nails scraping at the thin cord that held him, but he could not gain a hold.
“Relax, my friend. The more you struggle the longer you shall suffer.”
Matthew’s chest heaved, desperate for the breath he could not catch. O’Malley? His vision darkened around the edges, but Matthew refused to give in to the call of unconsciousness. No! He could not let O’Malley kill him now.
The cord dug deeper, and Matthew feared it would slice his throat open. He stilled.
“There now….” O’Malley’s voice tickled his ears as Matthew’s vision went black. “It’s time to play our game.”
Plink
Plink
Matthew groaned and his throat exploded with pain. He rolled to his side, coughing up phlegm and sucking in burning breaths. Dirt clung to his skin and felt thick upon his face. Why was he on the ground?
Plink
Plink
Matthew stilled, breathing slowly and listening to the unfamiliar sound in the utter darkness. Where was he? He slowly lifted his fingers to gently probe at the raw skin on his neck.
Something shifted, and Matthew realized he was not alone. He jerked upright and was rewarded for the sudden movement with a burst of pain in his head and tide of nausea in his stomach.
“Wouldn’t move too much at first, if I were you.”
Matthew raised his hands, but could not see them in the inky room. “O’Malley?”
Plink
Plink
“Yes, it took me several hours for the headache to subside. Nasty, that one.”
Matthew swallowed, his dry throat aching for moisture.
“Do you like the game?”
Matthew closed his eyes. Lord, help me. He’d thought O’Malley mad before, but that had been nothing compared to this. “What game is that?” he asked huskily.
“You don’t know?” The disappointment in O’Malley’s tone dissolved into a chuckle. “Ah, well, I should have expected. A shame, though. I’d hoped you’d see it.”
Plink
Plink
Matthew remained silent. What was that noise? It wasn’t rhythmic enough to be dripping water. It was almost…metallic.
O’Malley sighed. “It’s no fun if you won’t even try.”
The hairs on the nape of Matthew’s neck stood on end. A faint smell drifted on the stale air. The same foul stench he’d caught the last time he’d seen O’Malley in Washington. Matthew shifted on the dirt, musty air swirling around him and making him cough.
Plink.
The sound came again, followed by a rattle. A sound he recognized. Something heavy…metallic. The answer erupted through his foggy mind.
Chains!
Matthew pushed backward and came against a wall behind him. Breathing hard, he tried to make out anything in front of him, but he might as well be trying to see with his eyes closed for all the good it did him.
The shadows shifted, an odd thing he could not explain. In utter darkness, how could something be even blacker than everything around it? Matthew shivered, though the musty room overflowed with sultry heat.
“A hint, then?”
Plink
Plink
“Very well, I shall give you a morsel to get your brain working. Let’s see, what about your ride on the train feels familiar?”
Realization cut through the fog and throbbing in Matthew’s head. He tried once again to swallow. “You are delivering retaliation. Recreating what I did to you.”
The chains clinked and Matthew tensed.
Plink
Plink
O’Malley’s dark chuckle grated across his ears. “Ah, so you understand, then, why you are here. Very good. I wanted to be certain you didn’t think this mindless.”
Matthew tried to force himself to remain calm. “O’Malley. I couldn’t let you murder Grant and his wife. Surely you understand.”
A scraping sound, and then a small flame burst into life. Matthew blinked against the tiny light that cast O’Malley’s features into plains of dancing shadows. O’Malley put the flame to a lantern and the light grew enough to illuminate the small place Matthew found himself sharing with a man he no longer recognized.
Dirt floor. Stone walls. No windows. Only one door.
Plink.
Matthew’s gaze darted back to his captor. O’Malley swung a small chain around in oscillating circles, the end of which occasionally clicked against the heavy chains filling his lap. He sat in a chair a few paces away, directly in front of the door Matthew was certain was locked. Matthew’s eyes flew up from the chains to the wicked smile on O’Malley’s face.
Then he glanced back around the stone room, if only to divert himself from the growing terror the sight of O’Malley caused. The windowless walls gave no evidence to what time of day or night he’d awoken to. “Where am I?”
Plink
Plink
“Disconcerting, isn’t it? To wake up with a pounding headache without knowing where you are, only to find yourself locked inside.”
Matthew kept his tone even. “I took you to a tavern and paid for a comfortable room. One which you were free to leave the next day. This is not the same, O’Malley.”
Plink
Plink
O’Malley swung the little chain around again, and Matthew’s fingers involuntarily found his throat where it had cut into him.
“Hmm. Robbed, I recall, by the honorable Mr. Daniels. When I couldn’t pay, the idiot running the place left me
to sleep on the kitchen floor, and then sent me away without food.” O’Malley clicked his tongue. “Everything I had to do after that was entirely your fault, you see. You gave me no other options.”
The foul smell in the room increased and Matthew gagged. “I did not mean for you to come to hardship.”
“Then I suppose that is where we will differ in this little game. I intend quite a few hardships for you, you see.”
Panic clawed at him. The darker O’Malley’s words grew, the stronger the smell in the room became.
“David!” Matthew pleaded. “What happened to you?”
O’Malley rose and stepped closer, holding up the lantern to his face. The green eyes that stared at Matthew swam with fury.
“Lord, help me….” Matthew whispered, trying to put as much distance between him and the other man as was possible in the small cell.
O’Malley lurched back and, for just an instant, his eyes cleared and Matthew caught a glimpse of pleading. He frowned. Something was very wrong.
Matthew slowly pulled his legs under him and gained his feet. “David. Tell me what happened to you. Perhaps I can help.”
The flash of humanity in his eyes disappeared and O’Malley laughed. “Help me? I do not need your help!” The chains in his hands rattled.
Matthew pressed his back against the wall. “Something is very wrong with you. Can you not see it?”
O’Malley’s face twisted and Matthew wondered at the war that seemed to flicker across him.
He took a cautious step forward. “Let me help you, David.”
O’Malley straightened, and the conflict in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a cold edge that made Matthew shiver. He lifted the chain in his hands. “We are going to play our game now….”
The smell in the room strengthened, filling Matthew’s nostrils and making his eyes water. He could barely see when O’Malley lunged for him, and almost didn’t make it out of the way in time.
Pray!
The thought slammed into him like a war hammer. He wasn’t sure if it was from his mind or somewhere else.
O’Malley lunged for him again, a feral screech tearing from his lips. Matthew scrambled away, but tripped on the chain on the floor. He lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
Lord, I need You!
David O’Malley stood over him and growled. When he spoke, the voice held little of the man Matthew had stood beside in battle. Rough as splintered wood, O’Malley’s voice scraped across him. “You are too weak. You cannot defeat me.”
Matthew scrambled back. “Lord!”
O’Malley flinched as though he had been struck, then snarled again. “You cannot command me! You are not enough!”
I Am. The demons know My Name and they tremble.
Matthew’s breath came heavy. O’Malley took a step closer. “David! This isn’t you!”
O’Malley snarled. “David is gone.”
He lunged.
Matthew rolled to the side and sprang to his feet. “I command you to leave!”
O’Malley snatched the chain from the ground and swung it with unnatural strength. Matthew ducked. The thick end swung back around and smacked against the side of David’s face. His eyes glazed over as a thick gash on the side of his head opened and blood poured down his cheek and onto his shirt collar. The blow that should have felled him didn’t even make him sway. “Little man. You do not command me.”
Matthew planted his feet. “Not I. But the One greater than you.”
O’Malley hissed and took a step forward, more cautious this time. “You are nothing. A failure. What makes you think you will succeed now? Have you not failed everyone you ever cared for? You are worthless. A coward. A deserter. A liar.”
Peace flowed through him and Matthew’s breathing slowed. “I was those things.” He took a step forward. “But no longer.”
O’Malley snarled again.
Matthew raised his hand. “Now, I am something new. Redeemed. A soldier in a different army.” He pointed his finger at O’Malley, though what stood before him was not the man, but a shell of him, filled with something that reeked of evil. “And my commander has given me an order.”
O’Malley leapt for him.
“In the name of Jesus you are cast out of here!”
O’Malley lurched and began to convulse. He gasped for breath and dropped to the floor, his body shaking violently on the ground. Matthew dropped to his knees and grabbed the man’s head to keep it from striking too hard. O’Malley’s arms flailed, swinging wildly. One fist struck Matthew’s shoulder, but still he held on. O’Malley’s chest heaved.
Then with a final shudder, O’Malley lay still in Matthew’s arms as the shadows receded and the stench rolled away.
“I believe the people of the South would have been spared very much of the hard feeling that was engendered by Mr. Johnson’s course toward them during the first few months of his administration. Be this as it may, Mr. Lincoln’s assassination was particularly unfortunate for the entire nation.”
General Grant
Matthew pulled on the door again, as though that would somehow make the lock spring free. He lifted the lantern and tried to judge the thickness of the door. Could he break through it? A groan stirred the stillness and Matthew whirled around, his nerves set on edge.
O’Malley drew slow breaths from where Matthew had left him on the floor. He took a step closer and lifted the lantern. The blood had already soaked through the shirt Matthew had wrapped around O’Malley’s head. If he didn’t find a way out of here, he didn’t think the man would make it.
O’Malley’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Matthew. “Daniels?”
“Aye, O’Malley. It’s me.”
His emerald eyes darted around their confinement. “Where am I?”
Matthew grunted. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”
O’Malley reached up and touched Matthew’s shirt wrapped around his head. “Did you hit me?”
Matthew crossed the two strides between them and crouched at his side. “No, you did that yourself.”
“But, I…” He moaned again. “What happened?”
Matthew stroked his chin. “You don’t remember?”
O’Malley started to shake his head and then paused. “The last thing I really remember is running from some strange voice down at the river bank. After that… it’s a bit foggy. I remember very little.” He eyed Matthew with suspicion. “Why are you keeping me here?”
Matthew forced his jaw to unclench. “I’m not. You brought me here after you choked me on the train.”
Confusion flittered over O’Malley’s face, but then he grunted. “How fitting.”
Matthew rocked back on is haunches and said nothing.
“I can’t move my legs.”
Startled, Matthew’s gaze swept down O’Malley’s outstretched body. “What do you mean?”
O’Malley wheezed, and it seemed a struggle for him to take a breath. “I mean what I said. I can’t feel my legs, nor can I move them.
“David, I….”
“Stop. You don’t have to say it. I know something happened to me. Something…I couldn’t control.”
“I think it was a demon,” Matthew said softly, barely believing it himself.
“Ah. Well, I shall soon join them all.”
Pain knifed through Matthew at the hopelessness in O’Malley’s words. “Nonsense. The Lord has saved us from it.”
O’Malley pulled in a long breath, wincing. “I think my ribs are broken.”
“What?” Matthew frowned. “The only injury you had was to the head.”
“I think not. Other things…happened.”
Matthew suppressed a shiver.
O’Malley took another difficult breath. “I’ve come to the end, and I failed them.”
“Failed who?”
O’Malley closed his eyes, a tear squeezing from the corner and sliding down his face. “My Liza. Our boy. I failed to bring them justice.”
Matth
ew placed a hand on O’Malley’s shoulder. “Killing Lincoln or anyone else would not have brought them back, nor would it have changed what happened.”
“They deserved justice. Vengeance.”
Matthew pulled up words he’d heard army chaplains say. “Vengeance belongs to God, O’Malley. Not you.”
“Aye. I gained…nothing.” He struggled for another breath.
Urgency flooded Matthew. “Make your peace with God, and you shall see them again.”
“No…He won’t give me that. The Almighty knows… I would speak words of loyalty to Him only because I want my family. Not because…” He labored for another breath. “I wished to serve Him.”
Matthew’s fingers tightened on O’Malley’s shoulder. “Call to Him, and He will help you.”
O’Malley opened his eyes and looked at Matthew with more clarity than he’d seen in him since before George had been taken to Elmira. “You truly believe that? Is there hope for me?”
Matthew nodded. “Confess and be forgiven, then take the peace offered. I did.”
O’Malley studied him, as though judging the truth in his words. His breathing wheezed as he grunted. “Would you forgive me, knowing all I have done?”
“Yes, David. I would. I do forgive you,” Matthew said, nearly surprised the words were entirely sincere.
His eyelids fluttered. “If that’s true…then maybe…”
Matthew gave him an encouraging nod.
O’Malley closed his eyes. “God, forgive me.” His breath caught. “Please, let me not slip into the endless night, but into Your mercy. I beg You, bring me to your side.”
Matthew grabbed O’Malley’s hand and squeezed.
O’Malley’s eyes suddenly flew wide. “Light…so much light.”
Matthew glanced around the shadowed room, wondering at what O’Malley saw.
A smile tilted the corners of David O’Malley’s mouth. A gentle smile, one so different from the others Matthew had seen upon those lips. Matthew offered up a silent prayer of thanks.
“You brought her to me…” David lifted his hand toward something Matthew couldn’t see. Thank You…”
Matthew glanced at the door O’Malley stared at, but saw nothing other than thick wood and molded stone.
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 85
