by CJ Lyons
"Pastor Henry is waiting for us downstairs. Getting everything ready for Katie's visit." His voice snagged on Katie's name, a tiny thrill there. She relaxed a tiny bit, reassured by the slip in his facade. "Where is the child?"
"Sleeping in the van. I left the engine on. It's too hot to leave her in there without the AC running."
He nodded his approval. "Mind if I take a quick peek?"
"Of course not. That's what we're here for. Just don't wake her—I want her fresh when you and Henry are ready."
His tongue darted free, kissing his top lip for an instant before disappearing again. He walked past her, his gait stiff with anticipation, and peered inside the van window at Katie. "My, she's even lovelier in person. You must be mighty proud of her."
He returned to Lucy's side and opened the church door. The middle finger of his right hand was missing, a mass of scar tissue contorted his palm. Playing with fireworks? Or something more deadly?
"Shall we go inside and finish our preparations?"
She crossed the threshold, fingering her choker as she looked around. The room was maybe twenty by thirty, whitewashed walls, white linoleum floor, white ceiling. The only color came from a stack of grey folding chairs standing against one wall and a dark wood cross hanging from the ceiling at the far end of the room. To the right was a set of concrete stairs going down. Walter crossed over to the stairs.
Lucy stalled. "What kind of church is this?"
He stopped on the top step and turned back to her. "We're a Pentecostal denomination. Small but actively recruiting." He followed her gaze as she glanced around the empty space. "We don't do a lot of sitting during our services. Not once the good Lord starts moving in us."
She had to fight to hide her cringe. Two men arranging for a private visit from a four-year-old little girl in a house of worship, and Walter acted like this was perfectly acceptable. Lucy had dealt with some major weirdos in her time, but the creep factor here was at an all time high. She swept the thought aside along with the emotions that ran with it. The business at hand required all of her focus.
She followed Walter down the stairs. Each footfall vibrated through her, jarring her to her core, unleashing her fear.
Her father once told her there were only two true emotions: fear and love. His words haunted her at times like this. She loved her family, was constantly in fear that she might not be able to keep them safe.
But that fear wouldn't stop her from getting what she came for. She hoped that, God forbid, if her own child ever needed help, someone would do the same for Megan.
The chill scent of earth, mildew, and metal long exposed to water filled her nostrils. Sharp, nasty, the stench of dirty, wet socks shoved into a hamper for too long.
At the bottom of the steps was a heavy wooden door with hinges as thick as her fist. Pipes lined the wall beside the door, traveling towards the outside wall and the stream beyond. Walter heaved the door open and gestured for her to precede him.
Again she paused just inside the door, looking around. It was an antechamber, half the size of the room above them, poorly lit by a few smudgy glass block windows high up in the wall across from her. Pipes of various sizes, bristling with valves, covered the wall beside her, converging into a rectangular pool dug into the floor, maybe eight feet by ten. The air smelled worse here. Small things crawling away in dark, dank corners to die.
She couldn't tell how deep the pool was—some kind of retaining area? Maybe for testing the water? Surely they didn't use it for baptisms—the wall that she could see was slimy with algae but enough water lined the bottom to paint the walls with reflected light.
A man emerging from a doorway leading to another room on the far side of the pool grabbed her attention. He was dressed like Walter and carried a black leather Bible, using both hands. Pastor Henry.
"Did you see the girl?" he asked Walter, his gaze flicking off Lucy as if she were a scrap of trash the wind had blown past.
"Yes. She's safe in the van. A little angel." Walter still stood at the door. Lucy had no choice but to move further into the room so that he could swing it shut behind them. His voice had gained a singsong quality, his anticipation revving up.
"Before we go any farther," Lucy said, taking control of the situation, "I want to get everything clear. First, I need the rest of the money. We agreed on two thousand dollars up front, another thousand when I got here."
"You'll get your reward, never fear," Henry said. "All we want is the girl."
"Where's your camera?" Lucy looked around. This was feeling wrong on so many levels. Were they planning to double cross her? She curled her arms around her chest as if she were cold, slipping her hand inside her jacket, grabbing the thirty-two. "You said all you wanted was to take pictures. That's what we agreed on. No touching."
"That's what we said," Walter confirmed. He was still behind her, blocking her exit.
She stepped backwards, closer to the pool, so that she could keep them both in sight. As she did, she felt more than heard a strange vibration. Rattling in the pipes? Whatever it was, she didn't like it, it made it hard to concentrate. And she needed to concentrate.
The men stood on opposite sides of the pool. She had no idea who or what was behind the second door, the one that Henry had emerged from, and tried to angle herself to keep it in her periphery. "Do you want more? We can arrange it—if you have enough cash."
Henry's smirk made it clear that he wanted much more than photos. He stepped into the room, skirting the edge of the pool, to stand shoulder to shoulder with Walter. Between her and the door she came in through.
The water in the pool shimmered, bouncing light over the white walls. There was something wrong about that, there was no breeze in the room, so what was making the water ripple? A circulating pump? Was that the source of the strange buzzing noise?
"What exactly do you want?" she asked, refusing to be distracted by the sparks of jade colored light dancing across the walls or the eerie hum that made the hair on her neck stand at attention. Both men kept their hands in plain sight, but their faces now shared identical expressions of lust.
"We want to save Katie's soul, Sister Ruby," Walter said.
The door beside her opened. Lucy whirled to keep it in sight as well as the two men. It meant putting her back to the pool. The movement released a fresh cascade of adrenalin and anxiety. Something about that pool wasn't right. It felt more dangerous than the two men.
A woman emerged from the rear room, shutting the door behind her before Lucy could see what lay beyond. She wore a simple gray dress—home made? Her hands were empty, clasped before her as if in prayer. "Is she here yet? My baby, has she come home?"
"What the hell is going on here?" Lucy demanded, her voice booming against the concrete walls.
"Pastor Henry and Sister Norma lost their daughter recently." Walter spoke as if he were teaching catechism to a particularly dim student.
The rear door opened again, this time releasing another man and two more women. They stood, watching in silence. Waiting.
Norma kept walking towards Lucy, her face upturned, seeking the sun, the truth, something. Whatever it was, she seemed to think Lucy had it. She stretched her arms out in front of her. "Please, where is my baby?"
"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about." Lucy made a judgment call. "The deal's off. There won't be any play date." The last words emerged loud, adrenalin giving them extra emphasis.
The thudding noise of the church door being shoved open answered her use of the code word. Lucy allowed herself to relax. Her team was on top of things.
"No!" Norma screeched across the space between them, her body moving faster than her words. "You can't take her from me!"
Lucy drew the thirty-two. "FBI. Stop right there."
Too late. Norma plowed into Lucy with the force of a linebacker. Lucy and Norma flew backwards. Into the pool.
Lucy smacked into the concrete bottom, landing on her left side and skidding across a scant inch or t
wo of water and algae. She brought her gun hand up, barely managing to hang onto the thirty-two. Not that it was doing her any good. Norma landed on top of her, knocking Lucy's breath away, clawing at Lucy’s face.
The pool was only four feet deep and the algae-choked water barely came to Lucy's ankles. Lucy pushed off the slimy bottom and rolled her weight on top of Norma who now was writhing like she was possessed, drool streaming from her mouth as she spoke in some weird, keening language that made Lucy's ears wince.
"Cast out this devil, oh Lord!" Henry cried out, holding his Bible aloft as he knelt at the edge of the pool, eyes closed, body rocking, lurching, arching to and fro, his face filled with rapture. The others followed suit, kneeling above Lucy at the rim of the pool, rocking and rolling and praying.
Lucy tried to get her feet under her and control of Norma. The floor was slimy, the water murky, and, worse, there was definitely something moving in it. Fish?
Henry opened his Bible and intoned, "In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents…"
Lucy sat up. Not fish.
The sound buzzing through her bones, setting her teeth on edge, wasn't solely the product of Norma's keening or Henry's prayers or even the thudding of boots as her team ran down the stairs.
Clumps of snakes huddled on a foot-high ledge that ran around the bottom of the pool. A timber rattler as thick as her wrist lazily raised his head and regarded her as if she were lunch. The smaller diamondback beside him wasn't so sanguine, his fangs showing as he shook his rattles.
A dark streak darted through the murky water, followed by two more.
Norma's eyes flew open and she shouted, "Amen!" just as the first of the snakes launched itself at Lucy.
Chapter 3
Saturday, 7:51 am
Lucy scrambled to her feet and hauled Norma aside just as the water moccasin charged. The snake was a black blur, churning through the water, slamming itself into the retaining wall, then ricocheting into the air. With blinding speed it changed direction in mid-flight, using its powerful body to hurl itself at them once more.
Norma plopped down into the water, her grey dress billowing, algae clinging to the folds, laughing. She splashed the water as if she wanted the snakes to attack her. "Hallelujah!"
She grabbed Lucy's ankle, trying to pull Lucy back down into the water. Lucy lunged to one side, a snake's fangs whispering against her jeans. Missing.
Adrenalin jolted through Lucy, almost drowning out the sound of armed men swarming into the room, shouting, "FBI, hands, hands! Down, now!"
In her periphery she saw her team taking the other five adults into custody. The women put up a fight, the men continued intoning prayers, not resisting. Least of her worries. The ledge the dryland snakes called home completely encircled the bottom of the pool. Coiled, hissing, writhing mounds of rattlesnakes and copperheads greeted her as soon as she made a move in any direction.
Norma wasn't helping. The woman scrambled for the snakes, Lucy had to haul her in with an arm around her waist.
With her free hand, Lucy aimed her weapon at one writhing mass after another, despite the futility of trying to shoot the snakes. An instinct she couldn't suppress. Shit, shit, shit. How the hell had this happened? She reined in her internal monologue, fighting for control.
Another water moccasin churned its way through the water, aiming at her, a deadly torpedo, but two more of its own kind intercepted it, the water frothing as the enraged snakes battled each other.
A copperhead that had tumbled into the shallow water slithered across Lucy's boots. She forced herself to hold still, not agitate it. Even as her flesh crawled and her finger tightened on her trigger guard. Denying every primal instinct carved into her DNA, she holstered her weapon.
"Throw me some cuffs," she called to her team. A Statie pinned his suspect, Walter, to the wall with one hand and threw her a pair of flex-cuffs with his other.
Lucy caught the cuffs and quickly restrained Norma. The woman still struggled, not attacking Lucy, just writhing and throwing her weight in one direction, then another, screaming incoherent words punctuated by the occasional "Amen!"
"Everyone stay calm," she ordered. Tried to take her own advice, despite the adrenalin skipping stones across her nerve endings.
The other snake handlers continued their praying, now droning Psalm 123. Lucy tuned them out. She really did not want to think about the shadow of death.
"What about using a Taser?" Fletcher called from the edge of the pool. The ICE surveillance tech wasn't a field agent, but he was the only one volunteering any ideas on how to handle the snakes. "Stun them long enough for us to pull you out."
"Won't work, the water will dissipate the energy."
Norma suddenly dropped her weight, almost taking Lucy with her. Lucy hauled her to her feet once more.
"You can't fight God's will," Walter called to Lucy as two Staties propelled him to the door. His words barely carried over the feverish buzzing the rattlers were producing.
"You must have some way to tranquilize the snakes." Lucy did not make any sudden movements—not with the space between her and safety carpeted with snakes. She held Norma in a bear hug, finally stilling the woman. That didn't stop a baby rattler from arching up, its body twanging like a wire sparking, fangs already dripping venom as it quivered, debating.
Lucy stared it down. Its hissing sang along her nerves, until her own body hummed to the same tune.
"Go away. Scat," she told it in her best mommy voice, placing herself between it and Norma.
"Snakes don't have ears," Fletcher told her, not-so-helpfully.
Lucy didn't break her staring match with the reptile. Finally it shook itself one last time and slid over its companions to another part of the ledge.
"We prove ourselves to God by facing evil in its natural form." Walter's voice boomed through the small space. "We expect to be bitten—God will decide if we live or die. That's how we lost Norma's daughter. Through God's will. And God's will brought you and little Katie to us."
"Hate to tell you this, but little Katie is a mannequin. And if you don't help us out of here, you'll be charged with assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder of a federal agent."
Lucy was bluffing. She had no idea what charges the assistant US attorney might file—if any. Federal prosecutors were notorious for wimping out on cases that weren't clear cut. Lord knew this one qualified. What a cluster fuck. Her boss was going to laugh his ass off. He loved crazy batshit stories of ops gone wrong. Right after he ripped her a new one for not bringing home the bacon, his term for an air-tight case that even a newbie AUSA couldn't fuck up.
Greally had no right to laugh. She'd only been here in Pittsburgh leading the new squad for three months and in that time she'd brought home enough bacon for him to hold a BBQ. But Nick—how the hell was she going to explain this to him?
Her leg shook. Just nerves—and a need to pee. Norma's weight, now slack in Lucy's arms, was getting heavy.
"We'll be judged by God's laws, not man's," Walter continued triumphantly, smirking at her predicament.
Great. Big help that was. Lucy surveyed the situation. Trying to clear her mind, focus. But her gaze skittered from the pipes on the walls, to the mounds of reptiles surrounding her, to the light reflected from the water.
Water. Could they open the valves on the pipes, flood the snakes?
A water moccasin swam towards her, not as aggressive as the first she'd encountered, but too close for comfort. She discarded her idea—it would take too long and probably just piss off the snakes.
Fire. Too bad the FBI didn't issue flamethrowers as standard weapons.
No. Not fire. Ice.
"Hand me that fire extinguisher," she ordered one of her agents, pointing to the industrial sized silver container hanging in the corner behind the door.
He pulled it from its brackets. "Looks pretty old, boss." He shook it. "Feels like there's something's left in it, t
hough."
"Have someone gather the ones from the trucks in case we need more." He nodded and heaved the extinguisher across the empty air separating their outstretched arms. Lucy caught it awkwardly with one hand; it was heavier than it looked.
The area around them appeared fairly safe, most of the snakes fighting with each other. Norma was now quiet, muttering to herself. Lucy would have to risk that the woman wouldn't do something suicidal and agitate the snakes. She sat Norma down, straddling her to confine her movements as much as possible.
"Careful with that, Lucy," Fletcher called. "You might just make them angry."
"Not as angry as I am." She shook the extinguisher and peered at the faded instructions. Hefted it and aimed the nozzle. Pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
"Damn." She shook it more vigorously, wiped the nozzle against her jeans to clear any clogs. Aimed.
This time she was rewarded with a spurt of liquid. The snakes recoiled, angrily. The ones who took a direct hit convulsed and fell away from her, frost glittering their scales.
The swoosh of the fire extinguisher mixed with the hiss and rattle of furious snakes. She splashed through the water, jostling the extinguisher from one side to the other, her fingers clutching the nozzle burning with the cold. A cloud of white powder and smoke filled the air before her.
Blinded snakes flung themselves at her, at each other, at the wall. Some sank their fangs into their own flesh, others launched themselves at Lucy. The water churned with frenzied movement as Lucy fought to clear a path.
Fletcher waited at the edge of the pool, watching anxiously. Two burly men joined him, one FBI and one State trooper, reaching their arms to her.
The spray sputtered and died.
She threw the extinguisher onto the concrete ledge. Turning back, she dragged Norma through the path, to the ledge. The men hoisted her out of the water and onto dry land.
Then they reached for Lucy. Just as the stunned snakes began to stir. Lucy grabbed onto the men's arms and leapt.
A snake tried to follow, landing on her boot with a heavy thud that rocked through her. She kicked it free and rolled onto the pool's edge. Out of reach of the snakes.
