The Massacre Mechanism (The Downwinders Book 5)

by Michael Richan

  How do you even do that, anyway? David asked. Remove someone’s gift? Seems impossible.

  I have a friend, Lyman answered, who figured out how to do it many years ago.

  In The Dark River? Winn asked.

  Yes, Lyman replied. Now, I think you should consider leaving. We can reconvene in Leeds. These men will begin to wake in the next few minutes, and they have no idea of your involvement. Let’s keep it that way. One last thing though.

  They watched as Lyman walked to the men, searching. He located the body he was after and stood over it. Winn saw a tip emerge from Lyman’s palm, slowly extending several inches, lighting up the cavern with an eerie blue glow. Lyman knelt next to the body and positioned the blade next to the man’s arm.

  This is for David’s parents, you evil son of a bitch, Lyman said, shoving the tip of the blade into the man’s flesh. He pressed his other hand down on the man’s chest. You’ve got a day to get your affairs in order, my friend.

  Winn took a couple of steps closer so he could see the body Lyman had chosen: it was Dayton. He turned to look at David, who was standing next to him, staring down at the man. David’s face was expressionless as he contemplated what Lyman had just done.

  Winn dropped from the River, and Lyman’s personage faded to an indistinct white smear, which drifted rapidly away, deeper into the chamber.

  “He killed him,” David said.

  “He released the maggots,” Winn said, looking back down at Dayton’s body. “They’ll kill him.”

  “Same thing.”

  “He deserved it,” Winn said, waiting for a reply from David, which didn’t come. He looked up from the body to see David standing over it, still expressionless, staring down at the man who ordered the murder of his parents. Winn wanted to say more, but he wasn’t sure that David needed or wanted to hear anything else. He did deserve it, Winn thought, confirming his feelings. I hope however the maggots kill him, it’s painful.

  After a few moments David turned from Dayton’s body.

  “Come on,” Winn said. “I’m tired and we still have to drop off the trailer before we go home.”

  They left the cave, squeezing through the thin entrance and making their way back to Winn’s Jeep. The first signs of a change in the night sky were beginning to show in the east as they made their way back to St. George.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “How are you feeling?” Winn asked Deem the next morning as they sat around Carma’s breakfast table. It was closer to lunchtime than noon, but everyone had slept in, including Deem.

  “I feel one hundred percent,” Deem replied, reaching out to grab Warren’s hand. Winn felt David’s knee poke at him under the table, which Winn took to be David wanting to be sure Winn didn’t miss Deem’s gesture.

  “Good,” Carma said from the head of the table. “More croissants?” She lifted the considerable pile of pastry on the platter in front of her, passing it to Deem, who took another one and passed the platter along.

  “I have to admit, Carma, I’m a little miffed with you for not telling us about Warren,” Winn said. “You and Lyman keep too many secrets.”

  “Lyman felt that if Warren’s activities were going to remain undetected,” Carma replied, “it was essential that Dayton pick up on animosity between you and Warren in the event of some kind of confrontation. There wasn’t a good reason to tell you that he was really helping us out.”

  “A good reason,” Winn repeated, chewing his food. “This is what I’m trying to balance, Carma. Lyman’s plans seem to work out in the end, but I feel left out of the loop while they’re happening.”

  “As I’ve said a million times, you just need to trust him,” she answered. “He has everyone’s best interests at heart.”

  “The Dark River stuff, that’s intriguing,” David said, only to find Carma slamming down her silverware. Winn saw David look up at her; she had a stern countenance.

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that,” Carma replied, measuring her voice carefully, trying to backtrack from the sudden moment of drama she’d created with her cutlery. “Tell me you washed according to my protocols?”

  “Yes,” Winn replied. “We washed just as you instructed.”

  “Good,” she said. “We can’t be too careful when it comes to that place.”

  “You mean The Dark River?” David asked, still confused by her reaction. Carma pulled back as David said the words, as though he’d thrown spit balls at her.

  “That place,” Carma said, “is abhorrent. I would much prefer it if you didn’t bring it up. It’s a sick and twisted world, and I’ve seen it destroy too many people.”

  “But Lyman obviously goes there,” David pressed. “He uses what’s there to accomplish his goals.”

  Carma’s head was bobbing as David spoke, dodging David’s words as though they were bullets. “Lyman’s business is Lyman’s business. I can’t control that.”

  “You don’t approve of his involvement in The Dark River?” Winn asked.

  Again Carma physically reacted to the two words when they came out of Winn’s mouth. “No, I don’t. Decent people don’t. Lyman made the decision to involve himself with the…with that place…years ago, and he knows I disapprove. I don’t like it at all. I don’t even like the traces of it that wind up coming home on the soles of your shoes.”

  She raised her butter knife and pointed it at each of them as she spoke. “Listen to me. Just because Lyman goes there, don’t any of you, even for an instant, consider it! You’ll be lost. You’ll degenerate and never come back. I’ve seen it again and again. People say ‘I’ll just go there to explore’, or some such nonsense, and next thing you know, they’re in a coma. Lyman is a wise old ghost who knows his way around and has made a deliberate choice to involve the Dark…to involve that place and the degenerate things that come from it as weapons in his fight. But for the rest of us, trust me, you don’t have the willpower to resist what it will do to you. Promise me you won’t go there. Promise me right here and now.”

  She moved her butter knife around, pointing at them one by one, eliciting an “I promise” from each until she was satisfied. Winn could tell David’s promise was half-hearted, and that he wanted to continue talking about the Dark River, but had decided to table the subject for now.

  “What will happen to Dayton?” Warren asked. “He’ll die?”

  Carma shuddered. “Those infernal maggots!” she said, shaking her head. “I wish he would stop experimenting with them.”

  “They’ll kill him?” Warren asked. “Dayton?”

  “Soon,” Carma replied. “I understand he’s in a coma and his family has moved him into the hospital. Horrible way to go.”

  Which hospital? Deem wondered.

  “What about the other men, Dayton’s team?” Warren asked.

  “They’ll suffer different fates at random times over the next year,” Carma said. “It won’t be long and they’ll all be gone.”

  A quiet heaviness hung in the air as they considered the effects of Lyman’s plan.

  “Well, I say, congratulations, Lyman!” Winn said, raising his coffee mug. “He took them all out, and he did it in style. A huge victory, beyond what any of us could have concocted or pulled off. I’m impressed. And I’m glad the bastards are gone. Or going.”

  “Language at the table!” Carma chided.

  “It’ll leave a huge gap in local church leadership,” Warren said.

  “They’ll send someone down from Salt Lake to make replacements,” Carma replied, “like they always do. Lyman’s got a plan to influence the process, already in play. Hopefully no gifteds this time. Things were so much better when the local leadership wasn’t made up of gifteds.” She paused. “No offense, Deem.”

  Another moment of silence.

  “We’re going to Caliente this afternoon,” Warren said. “Want to come?”

  “Back to Caliente?” David said. “Not so sure I want to go back there anytime soon.”

  “Why are you going?” Wi
nn asked.

  “There was something there,” Deem replied. “When I was inside Kate, I saw a man run to a room there, at the very end of the motel. He went inside, and I followed him. He was gone when I got there, and I couldn’t see how he left. Then Lorenzo began to talk to me, and he told me there was something important about the room. I wasn’t able to figure it out at the time, so I need to go back.”

  “Sure, I’ll go,” Winn said, kneeing David under the table. “David will come too.”

  David had been in the middle of a sip of coffee, and he jumped when he felt Winn’s knee. He finished his drink, and as he pulled the cup away, said, “Uh, sure. I guess.”

  “You be careful,” Carma said. “You’re well insulated from the events of last night. Don’t make yourselves targets by having a spectacle at that motel today. Keep things quiet.”

  “We’ll be very subtle about it all,” Warren said. “We won’t draw any attention.”

  Winn looked up at Warren. Learning that he’d really been working on their side for the past few months had come as a shock; Warren was able to maintain a solid false front, and he found himself admiring the guy a little.

  Deem’s hand was still wrapped around Warren’s at the table, and Winn realized Deem’s admiration for Warren had returned as well.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Deem walked through the hospital hallway. Ahead was a nurse’s station, where she stopped. A young woman looked up at her.

  “I’m trying to find President Dayton’s room,” Deem said.

  “Are you family?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, I’m his niece,” she lied, knowing the nurse wouldn’t tell her what she needed to know if she didn’t.

  “Just moved to room 5C, down that hall, on the left,” she said, pointing.

  “Can you tell me what’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s in a coma,” the woman replied, trying to contain her emotions. “That’s all we know. Such a loss to the community.”

  Deem forced a small smile and said “thank you” before turning to walk to Dayton’s room. She was expecting to see dozens of family gathered, but was surprised to find the room empty except for a body lying on the bed, and a nurse, who looked up at her and smiled weakly.

  “Just moved him in here,” she said. “Are the others behind you?”

  “Others?” Deem asked.

  “The other family members?” the nurse said. “We moved him to this bigger room so it could accommodate you all. And it’s nicer.”

  “No, I came on my own,” Deem said. “But thank you.”

  “I should find them and let them know,” she said. “We’ll get all his flowers moved from the other room, too.” She hurried out.

  Deem realized she’d only have a moment with Dayton before the room would flood with family and well-wishers. She stepped to the side of the bed.

  Tubes came from his nose and mouth, and machines on either side of him displayed graphs and numbers. As she looked down at his face, she felt an instant of sorrow for the man; he was pale, looking like a corpse. She wondered which of her fellow wagon train members had sliced into him at the motel, and the damage they had done to him. She considered what the maggots were doing to his system. Pity welled up in her.

  Then she stopped, remembering how he’d threatened to excommunicate her as a way of silencing her. How he’d threatened her. How he’d ordered the death of Claude Peterson. Of David’s parents.

  I don’t feel sorry for you, Deem thought. You’re a horrible man who’s done horrible things. I just had to come, to see you one last time. To see you as you go down.

  Suddenly one of the machines began to alarm. A nurse rushed into the room, soon joined by another.

  “What’s happening?” Deem asked, stepping back.

  “You’ll need to leave the room,” the nurse said.

  As Deem backed out, two more nurses arrived, pushing a cart loaded with equipment. Once they were inside the room, the door closed, but not before she heard one of the nurses clearly say “cardiac arrest.” She could hear their muffled talking through the door while they worked on Dayton.

  Cardiac arrest, Deem thought. Just a heart attack. People have them all the time. Well done, Lyman.

  She turned to leave, and as she walked down the hallway, a large group of people carrying balloons and flowers approached. She recognized Dayton’s wife in the crowd. They were making their way to Dayton’s new hospital room. Deem could see worried looks on their faces.

  They don’t know about the heart attack yet, Deem thought. It just happened. They’re going to find out in a minute when they reach 5C.

  She passed them, avoiding their gaze. None of them seemed to notice her; they just pressed on, en masse, making their way to Dayton.

  If I feel sorry for anyone, Deem thought, it’s them.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Winn pulled his Jeep onto the side of the road behind the motel, and the four of them piled out. From the back, the motel looked even dingier than it did from the front, with a series of small, highly-placed bathroom windows, interrupted by jutting air conditioners.

  Deem led the group as they walked toward it. Once they crossed onto the property, she turned to look to her right, at the room where she and Marion had first entered and witnessed the ghostly bloodbath.

  “What happened, exactly?” Warren asked.

  “Marion and I were there,” Deem said, pointing. “We were inside that room. They were slashing at the men in the beds, and I remember wanting to leave, so I turned and came out…”

  She walked to the cement sidewalk that ran in front of the rooms, retracing her steps. Winn turned to look behind them — no one was out, and the office looked empty. Everyone’s inside, trying to avoid the heat, he thought.

  “He was running this way,” Deem said, walking the path she’d followed the night before. “He kept going, and I followed him. I’m not sure why; I knew I wasn’t going to attack him like the others, but there was this sense that he might get away, and I didn’t want that to happen.”

  She turned a corner and reached a small section of rooms at the end of the L-shaped motel.

  “He moved like he was running for his life,” Deem said, still following him in her mind. She came to the last room and turned to look at it.

  “This isn’t right,” she said.

  “What isn’t right?” Warren asked.

  “He ran to the last room and he went inside,” she replied. “This is the last room, but this wasn’t the one he went into.”

  She walked past the room, where the sidewalk came to an end and the asphalt of the parking lot took over.

  “It was here,” she said, standing beyond the motel.

  “There’s nothing here,” Warren replied. “Are you sure it wasn’t one of these rooms on the end?”

  Winn walked around them to the spot Deem had identified. He felt his stomach rumble slightly, and wondered if the large breakfast he’d just eaten at Carma’s was settling alright. “Here?” he asked Deem. “Where I’m standing?”

  “It looked just like a regular room,” Deem said, walking back to the last motel room on her right. “But I know it wasn’t this room, here…this stretch of rooms was longer.”

  David turned to Winn. “She was in a different state when she saw it,” he said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Winn replied, placing a hand on his stomach, suddenly worried he might become ill.

  “What’s wrong?” Deem asked, seeing Winn’s face turn white.

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” he said, turning to walk away from them to a spot of dirt past the parking lot. He bent over to heave, and remembered the feeling he’d experienced just the day before, hunched over the toilet after having time shifted using the mechanism.

  Same feeling, he thought, the need to vomit subsiding. The others were still standing near the motel, allowing him some privacy; he raised and turned to face them. “I’m OK,” he said. “It passed.”

  As he wal
ked back to them, the nausea returned, and he went down to his knees. Breakfast came up.

  David was at his side within seconds, a hand on his back. “You OK?” he asked.

  Winn spit, looking down at what he’d upchucked. “Yeah, I’m not sick. It’s like the time differentials.”

  “Time differentials?” Deem asked as she and Warren approached.

  “Yeah, same feeling,” Winn replied. “Oh, that’s right, we didn’t explain to you about the mechanism.”

  She turned to look at Warren. He gave her a shrug in reply.

  Winn walked off the asphalt to the sidewalk that surrounded the city block. Once he crossed onto the cement he felt the nausea subside, and waited while his stomach settled. “There, that’s better,” he said, his hand leaving his stomach. “It’s just when I’m standing there, where you thought the room was, Deem. I feel fine here.”

  “What mechanism are you talking about?” Deem asked.

  “It used to reside on the mantle in your house,” Winn replied. “I used it to decipher messages I thought were coming from you.”

  “Coming from me?”

  “While you were out,” Winn continued. “They weren’t coming from you, we know that now. To read the messages, I had to perform a small time shift. I wanted to throw up like that every time I used it.”

  “Where is it now?” Deem asked.

  “The device?” Winn replied. “It’s at Carma’s. I think we should go back and get it, and see if it can detect what is here.”

  “Then the room is there,” Deem said, turning to look back at the empty spot of asphalt at the end of the motel.

  “I think it might be,” Winn replied.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Winn watched from the driver’s seat as Warren and Deem walked into the 7-11.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever say this,” Winn commented to David, “but it’s good to see her refilling her Big Gulp. I kinda missed it the past few months.”

  “I know what you mean,” David replied. “I’m not sure I’m 100% on Warren just yet, though.”