Psychological Damage (Gray Spear Society)

by Siegel, Alex

  "They are crafty, vigilant, and dangerous."

  "A worthy adversary then," Huttenlocher said. "How many are there?"

  "That's unclear. Three departed with the Child. At least three remain. I expect several more are hiding in their underground lair."

  "Our side has one hundred monks and forty professional soldiers. That seems like an overwhelming advantage in numbers. And of course the Lord is with us, too. I'm not sure why you're so worried."

  Norbert furrowed his brow. "I wish we had better intelligence. Father, have your inquiries yielded any results?"

  "No." Father shook his head. "I sent all the photos to Interpol, but the computers failed to produce a single match. The authorities in Chicago have been completely unresponsive. Some of the city bureaucrats must be in league with Satan. And there is more disturbing news."

  "What?"

  Father lowered his voice. "Our friends in the Vatican have received many inquiries about the Brotherhood from unexpected sources. Some mentioned my name explicitly."

  "How is that possible?" Norbert said.

  "I don't know." Father shrugged. "But it's becoming evident the small group we're fighting here may be part of a larger conspiracy that extends all the way to Rome. The Child has found powerful allies."

  Norbert sat on a chair with a padded vinyl seat. Just a few days ago it had seemed the nightmare was finally over. After eight years of tireless investigation and sacrifice, the Brotherhood had tracked the Child and his parents to Millennium Park. There, the monks had executed an almost perfect ambush. Even after the initial failure, ultimate victory had seemed just a short distance away.

  Now the situation was completely reversed. The Child's trail was growing cold, while new enemies were cropping up like weeds. Why won't God put an end to this madness? Norbert wondered. Is He asleep?

  He crossed himself and muttered a prayer to atone for his blasphemous thought.

  "I have no patience for shadowy conspiracies," Huttenlocher declared. "The enemy is before us and we must attack. The only question is how. We can assume horrors worthy of Hell are waiting behind that garage door. We'll have to punch through whatever defenses the enemy has prepared. If we want to avoid heavy casualties, we'll need a good plan."

  Norbert walked over to the window. He could see downtown Chicago a few miles in the distance. The sky was clear blue. He wished he were outside enjoying the beautiful spring day. He wanted his life back.

  "We have another problem," he said. "If we launch a military assault from Lower Wacker Drive, the police would be on us in thirty seconds. Our entry must be covert. I may have a solution." He faced Father. "Let's drill down from directly above the enemy. We can bypass their defenses and hit them from a direction they won't expect."

  Huttenlocher nodded enthusiastically. "We can use ground penetrating radar to precisely locate the fortress. The equipment is commercially available."

  "That's a great idea. We'll perform our reconnaissance with technology instead of risking lives. This plan seems almost certain to succeed."

  Father smiled. "Let's begin work at once."

  * * *

  A splinter of sunlight woke Aaron. He glared at a crack in the window curtain, and he wished he had done a better job of closing it last night. Marina muttered something in her sleep and dropped her hand onto his chest. Her fingernails pricked his skin.

  They were in a motel room with two beds. Aaron and Marina slept in one, and Yvonne and Wesley slept in the other. Keeping everybody together was a security precaution, but Aaron already didn't like it. Intimacy with Marina was impossible under these circumstances. There were too many bodies in one room.

  He sat up and looked around. Wesley appeared to be sleeping normally. Booby traps on the doors and windows were still in place and armed. The towering pile of duffle bags stood in the corner just as he had left them. He nodded with satisfaction. We survived another night.

  He silently got out of bed and went to the bathroom. When he came back out, he discovered everybody else was stirring. Apparently, he hadn't moved silently enough.

  "Yvonne," Wesley said as he slipped out of bed, "yesterday Aaron talked about a special ability, a gift from God. Could you show me?"

  "No!" Yvonne said. Wearing pajamas, she ran into the bathroom and closed the door.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  Marina shook her head. "She hasn't used her gift since the incident."

  "What happened to her?" Wesley said. "She won't tell me the story."

  "A typical mission. We were hunting a bunch of crazies who wanted to kill a lot of people for stupid reasons. She made a mistake and they captured her. I guess she thought she was so tough she didn't need to be careful. Too much success can do that."

  He nodded.

  "At that time the team was Ethel, me, her, and Victor," Marina said. "We searched everywhere for Yvonne, but the bad guys did a good job of hiding her. It took us five, long weeks to rescue her. In the meantime they used every kind of psychological torture. Sleep deprivation, shock, stress, isolation, drugs, mock executions, water, the works. They never let her rest. She didn't give them the information they wanted, but afterwards she wasn't the same person."

  "I understand. I know how to help her now." Wesley went to the bathroom door and knocked. "Yvonne, please come out."

  Yvonne was silent.

  He turned back to Marina and said, "What is her gift?"

  "She grows roots out of her palms." She made an odd gesture with her hands.

  "Like plant roots?"

  "Sort of. She uses them to suck all the juices out of her enemies. It's like digestion."

  "Nasty." Aaron winced. "How is that useful?"

  "The extra nutrients supercharge her body," Marina said. "She gets stronger, a lot stronger. The more she eats, the bigger..."

  The bathroom door flew open. "Don't talk about it!" Yvonne yelled. "It's not a gift. It's a curse!"

  Wesley tried to take her hand but she jerked it away.

  "God gave you this gift, so it must be very special," he said softly. "When you don't use it, you dishonor Him and hurt yourself. I want to see it."

  "That means I need a live victim. Are you volunteering to die?" Yvonne glared at him.

  "Can you use an animal?"

  "They don't work as well. Humans are best, but it doesn't matter. I won't use my gift again."

  "What did the bad men do?" he said. "How did they make you so afraid of your own power?"

  She sat on the edge of the bed with a terrified expression. He sat beside her and wrapped his small arms around her thin waist.

  "They made me grow the roots," she whispered, "and then they burned them off. Again and again. It hurt so much. It was like having my fingers chopped off. You can't imagine." She was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

  "But you were strong," he said. "You never gave up. All of them are dead and you're still alive. I'm very proud of you."

  She looked at him and tears ran down her cheeks.

  "Show me the gift," he said gently, "please."

  She squeezed her eyes shut. "OK. I'll use an animal. A very small one, like a mouse."

  "Hold on." Aaron waved his hands. "Save the demonstration for later. We need to eat breakfast and get back on the road first."

  Wesley gave him an angry look.

  "Don't argue with me," Aaron said. "Your safety is more important than killing animals. If you give me any trouble, I will carry your skinny little butt out of here and throw it into the van. You know I'm not lying."

  Wesley smiled a little. "OK. I guess we can wait. We'll find an animal later."

  "It's a deal."

  * * *

  Aaron looked through the windshield at the plains of western Illinois. Huge farms were mixed with small patches of original forest, a living reminder that the rich land was more than just a commercial resource to be exploited. Gigantic machines rolled across brown, dirt fields as the farmers went about their spring planting. He could smell the fertili
zer.

  A news channel on the radio provided a welcome distraction from driving on a seemingly endless highway. Yvonne and Marina were reading books they had purchased at a truck stop. Wesley was lost in the bright colors and cheerful beeps of a portable video game.

  They would reach St. Louis in an hour, and the towns were getting close together. We have to do Yvonne's demonstration before we get to the city, Aaron thought. He had been looking for animals, but so far he had only seen road kill. Yvonne needed a living sacrifice.

  He turned off the highway and onto a narrow county road.

  Marina looked up from her book. "What are you doing?"

  "Finding an animal," he said grimly.

  "We don't have to, really," Yvonne pleaded. "Go back to the highway."

  He ignored her.

  The smell of fertilizer became even more pungent. After taking a few random turns, he spotted some sheep in a grassy field. Their wool had recently been shaved, and their pink skin was still visible in spots. He parked the van on the shoulder.

  "Can we do this tomorrow?" Yvonne said.

  "No," Aaron said.

  He stepped out of the van and stretched his arms. A fresh breeze and sunshine felt good on his face. Everybody else got out on the passenger side.

  "Those are big sheep," Yvonne whined.

  "Yvonne," Marina said, "I've seen you digest several grown men in one battle. Just get this over with."

  Yvonne snarled at her. "Shut up! You're bitchy because we're going to St. Louis. Then it will be your turn to deal with scary personal shit."

  Aaron widened his eyes. He had never seen Yvonne act so aggressively, and picking a fight with Marina of all people was doubly remarkable. That was like poking a grizzly bear with a stick.

  Wesley grinned.

  "I deal with shit better than you," Marina said. "I'm not crying and whimpering all the time."

  Yvonne hugged herself as if she were cold. The anger in her expression faded away, and she reverted to the timid, little woman Aaron knew well.

  Everybody climbed over a wooden fence and entered the field with the sheep. The animals stared dully at them. They were truly stupid beasts. Yvonne approached the smallest sheep and petted its head.

  "Do it now," Marina commanded.

  Yvonne cowered. "I don't want to."

  Wesley put his hand on her arm. "You need to. We both know that's true. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for God."

  "I'll try." She took a deep breath. "Step back."

  Everybody gave her some space.

  She put her hand on the sheep's neck. For a long moment she stared into space as if trying to remember something. Suddenly, the sheep bleated in pain. It tried to run but her hand was firmly stuck like it was glued on. Then the animal stiffened and fell over, but its eyes still rolled around. The poor thing was terrified.

  Aaron watched in horror as the sheep's skin rippled and sagged. It looked like a family of snakes was trapped inside the body. The eyes didn't stop moving, so the sheep was alive while it was being consumed. Brown muck began to ooze out of the mouth, and the sharp odor reminded Aaron of rotting fish. The body deflated as even the bones were digested.

  Finally, the sheep died.

  Yvonne straightened up. Aaron glimpsed white tendrils extending from the palm of her hand, but they quickly shriveled away.

  Her skin was distinctly pinker. She had also gained some muscle in the right places. She had suddenly become a more beautiful woman.

  "How do you feel?" Wesley said.

  She looked at him. "Good." She smiled and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank you, but I'll never do that again. The demonstration is over."

  Aaron's gaze was drawn back to the dead sheep. A material that looked like boiled tree bark was trickling out of the animal's anus. He had seen some unpleasant things in his life, but this one was near the top of the list, if not the outright leader. The stench forced him to find a fresh breeze several paces away.

  "Why does it stink so bad?" he said.

  "My roots work both ways," Yvonne said. "While I'm drawing in nutrients, I'm also excreting metabolic waste. My body isn't just stronger, it's also cleaner inside."

  "Sounds great, so why did you call the gift a curse?"

  "Look what I did to that poor sheep. It suffered horribly. Imagine me doing the same to a human. My gift requires that I kill, and it's a very painful death. God turned me into His instrument of punishment."

  "That's true of all Spears," Aaron said. "We're all God's weapons."

  "It's more obvious in my case. Your acid spitting trick is nice, but it won't bring out the villagers with their torches and pitchforks. They could make a horror movie about me."

  He pursed his lips as he tried to formulate a good response. "We're monsters hunting monsters, which you know even better than I do. It's one of the reasons we have to be so secretive. If you can't accept that fact, then you can't accept being a Spear. Is that what this is about? You regret the decisions you made years ago?"

  Wesley grabbed his hand and pulled him a short distance away.

  "Stop," Wesley whispered urgently. "You're pushing her too hard."

  Aaron knelt down so he could face the boy directly. "What do you mean?"

  "Yvonne made enough progress today. She's not ready for the whole truth."

  "I thought you were all about truth."

  "It's like a very sharp knife," Wesley said. "Sometimes it cuts too deep. Can we just go to St. Louis now? It's Marina's turn."

  Aaron smiled. "Sure. You're the expert, it seems." He ruffled Wesley's brown hair. Then Aaron stood up and announced, "We're leaving. Let's get back in the van."

  Chapter Ten

  The technician stared at a display covered with wavy lines. He adjusted a knob and the lines moved around, but they seemed just as meaningless to Brother Norbert.

  He and Captain Huttenlocher were watching the technician work. They wore ordinary slacks and shirts. The technician believed they were Chicago city planners investigating a proposal for a new sewer tunnel.

  "Do you see anything?" Norbert said.

  "Yes," the technician said, "but ground water is attenuating the signal. Hold on."

  The three of them stood in an underground steam tunnel. Bundles of pipes covered the concrete walls and ceiling. The air was warm and heavy with moisture. Widely spaced bulbs provided dim light.

  The technician was using ground penetrating radar. He pushed a big, yellow piece of equipment mounted on a heavy duty cart while studying the display on top.

  "There it is, three meters below us," he said.

  Norbert and Huttenlocher exchanged glances.

  "How big is it?" Norbert said.

  "Huge. I'm reading tons of reinforced concrete. Must be an old fallout shelter. They built them all over the city in the 1950's. Some were just covered up and forgotten."

  "Keep moving. We need to get a better idea of the size."

  The technician pushed the cart up and down the long tunnel. He scribbled notes on a clipboard.

  After half an hour he said, "It's at least fifty meters across, maybe even bigger. The radar can see only so far. If you want a better measurement, you'll have to drill a hole and drop a probe down."

  Norbert nodded. "That's a good idea. Where should we drill? We want to hit the center."

  The technician took out a can of orange spray paint and drew a big X on the floor. "That's a good spot. Be prepared to cut through a lot of rebar and concrete. Looks like whatever is down there was built to survive an atomic bomb."

  "We understand. Thanks."

  * * *

  As Aaron drove across the Mississippi river, he looked up at the Gateway Arch. He had known it was big, but it far more impressive than he had expected. The exterior was gleaming, stainless steel with only a few, small windows at the top. It was hard to judge the height, but by comparing it to nearby buildings, he guessed the arch was sixty stories tall. The two legs had a triangular cross section, and they stood on
huge concrete platforms near the river. It was a masterpiece of art and architecture.

  The city of St. Louis was less inspiring. Aaron was accustomed to the majestic skyline of Chicago, and downtown St. Louis was just a sampling of tall buildings by comparison. Still, at least it was a city. After driving through hundreds of miles of farmland, he was glad to be back in an urban environment where he felt comfortable.

  "Where to, Marina?" he said.

  Marina typed an address into the navigation system. "There."

  He followed the instructions given by the computer until they came to a strip mall on a busy avenue. A few large buildings were visible, but the area was mostly residential. The strip mall was made of red brick with plain, white trim. There was a hair salon, a shoe store, a pharmacy, a donut shop, and a sandwich shop.

  Marina pointed at a cellular phone store at the end of the strip. "That is where my parents died."

  "In a phone store?" Aaron said.

  "It was an appliance repair shop back then. My father fixed appliances in back, and my mother greeted the customers in front. The killer came into the shop in the middle of the day and shot them both in the chest with a shotgun."

  Everybody got out of the van. The air was a little warmer than Aaron expected, and he didn't know whether it was because the weather had changed or they were at lower latitude.

  They went to the front of the phone store. Looking through the window, he saw little of interest. Rows of phones sat in individual cradles, while perky, well dressed salespeople stood nearby.

  "Seventeen years is a long time," Aaron said. "This murder case is ice cold. There's a good chance the killer isn't even alive, and witnesses won't remember much if anything."

  Marina nodded. "I have to try. At least I'll know I gave it my best effort."

  "OK. Tell me everything."

  "I already have. I was fifteen and visiting a friend. I didn't see it happen. I only heard about it from the police."

  She shifted her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet. He recognized a sign of deep anxiety.

  "Any fingerprints on the shotgun?" he said.

  She shrugged. "I don't know. The police investigated, but I never saw the report."