Unearthly Power

by R. K.

  ~ Nineteen ~

  They rode in the small plane that finally touched down in a private field in Nova Scotia. Sean was amazed at the resources these people had available. They seemed to be more akin to a specialized government agency than any religious order he had ever heard of.

  They removed the bodies and placed them in several vehicles that were made available for them. Nobody appeared from the only nearby home as they went through their activities. Sean followed the directions he was given as he was out of his element now, and far from home.

  They drove into Halifax and were passed through to a private area of the airport when they approached from the northern side. The bodies were placed in proper bags and were carried to a terminal by several of the men. The wounded were cared for on the ride up and seemed to be in stable condition. Sean remained watchful of everything that was taking place around him. None of the men spoke to him, other than Leandro, but they didn’t act as if he was unwelcome either.

  They waited for almost three hours before they were able to board their plane. They were provided tickets, but they were never asked for identification. Sean assumed it was because of their connections and hoped it remained that way when they landed. It was then that he thought Leandro may have figured out how to get rid of their extra passenger. Sean didn’t have his passport. When they landed, it would be easy for him to be placed on a return flight home. If that were to happen, there would be nothing he could do. All of their weapons were stored inside of the body bags. They wouldn’t be accessible until the plane landed.

  When Sean found himself in a first class seat next to Leandro, his fears diminished somewhat.

  There were only a few other people in that part of the cabin, and they looked to be making an effort at getting some sleep. It was then that Leandro explained what was going on.

  “Chandler has a yacht he keeps in Long Island. We had word that it was moving when we landed here. He is most likely going to where he thinks he can remain out of touch, so-to-speak,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “We will monitor his movements and will be kept advised as to his progress. If he decides to go to another location, we will follow. But I am sure he will take his time and travel to his villa at Pointe de la Fossette. We will be waiting for him there.”

  Sean was almost afraid to provide him with the information about his situation, but decided to do so anyway. “When we land, do you have people to take care of things on that end like you did earlier today?”

  Leandro looked at him curiously and said, “Yes.”

  “Good. I don’t have a passport and I’m sure I don’t speak the language that is prominent in the Point Faucet place you mentioned,” Sean said in his poor attempt to Anglicize the name of the town.

  Sean saw in Leandro’s expression that the significance of that announcement did not go unnoticed. He didn’t think very much got past the guy.

  “It will be no problem,” he assured him as he turned and closed his eyes.

  Sean hoped that was the case. He decided some rest wasn’t a bad idea. He suddenly felt exhausted.

  Eight days later, their intelligence placed Chandler’s yacht anchored five-hundred yards offshore. They had replenished their ranks after taking care of the remains of their fallen comrades. Sean was only able to learn bits and pieces about the Order itself. Leandro provided mostly mundane information about the commonplace activities within their religion. Even though Sean was putting his life on the line with them, he was not really one of them nor would he ever be. He wasn’t put off by the idea; it simply aroused his curiosity.

  They planned meticulously for that evening. They had several black rubber boats that they would use to travel out to the yacht. They were all clad in black cotton uniforms, and applied a black greasy type substance to every part of their exposed skin.

  After they had gone through a final equipment check, Leandro wished Sean good luck as he joined his team. Sean was armed with a silenced pistol and two spare magazine clips. Most of the other men had more substantial firepower. He decided they would have had similar types of weaponry in the States if they were not from out of the country. What they had at the time was probably the best they could come up with. He thought it was amusing, in an odd sort of way. There were gangs in Miami that would have had them all out-gunned.

  Tonight they were prepared. They would launch soon after midnight from two different areas. There were four boats, with four men on each one of them. One would remain while the other three boarded the vessel. The yacht was one-hundred and forty feet in length. The information they received indicated there were no more than twelve men on board, including the pilot and crew. It was decided by Leandro that everyone on board was to be considered a threat. Sean didn’t argue, but decided within himself that he was not about to shoot an unarmed man just because he happens to drive a boat for a rich bastard, or pass his canapés.

  They waited on the deserted beach while the other teams got into position further up the road. They would come from the bow, while his teams approached from the stern. It was a pleasant night with a mild breeze blowing in off of the water. He could hear the distinct sound of a violin playing in the night. It was likely that the people in the area seldom went to bed before late in the evening, or early in the morning, depending on how one looked at it.

  It was evidently time to get started as the leader of their group gave the signal to carry the boat down to the water. It wasn’t much of a beach, but rather a small expanse of shoreline that had to be crossed before putting into the water. The launch was successful and they all kept a low profile as they dipped their oars quietly into the calm waters and silently moved ahead. At first, it seemed to Sean as if the small surface waves were holding them in place, negating their efforts. After a minute or so of continuous attempts, they broke free from the shoreline and were now on their way.

  There was a singular light visible inside the yacht which they used to guide the way. To Sean, every movement inside the boat resonated within his mind as if it was somehow amplified. He knew that the sounds themselves would carry no further than to the men in the boat, but it unnerved him all the same. His senses were becoming more acute the closer they came to their target. He looked ahead to see if he could locate the other two teams coming from the opposite direction—a little reassurance that they would have the right amount of firepower—but was left with nothing more than darkness and the occasional turning of a wave. He knew he wasn’t likely to actually see them, but his nerves were on edge as they approached the large vessel.

  The man beside him mildly jabbed the top of his oar into Sean’s ribs. Before he could show his irritation, the man pointed upward. They were at the back of the boat. He didn’t need to paddle anymore.

  They secured their small boat to the anchor line of the yacht. Their leader decided they could take the fourth man with them because of this. Sean was happy at the prospect; just in case the other boats didn’t make it in time.

  They quickly made it on board and Sean heard the unmistakable sound of a man being shot. It was a silent popping noise caused by the disturbed air, followed by the sound of a body falling to the floor. Sean took his place in line, at the very back. The men split in pairs as they went up a flight of stairs—one around the port side, the other around the starboard side—and he followed his man in through a door to the main cabin.

  He was caught looking around at the furnishings of the cabin itself and lost sight of his partner. He was sure he went down the corridor as he saw a shadow ahead. He decided to wait until he was certain. The next person he saw was Finley. Finley stood frozen when he saw Sean in front of him. Not because he recognized him so much as he saw what he was holding in his hand. Before Sean could act, he turned and ran back the way he had come. That was when the first non-silenced gun shot rang out.

  Sean moved ahead, taking his time and making sure he would not be caught off-guard or in any cross-fire. He saw his partner lying down on the floor unmoving. He must have com
e out of one of the rooms as Finley ran by. When another body appeared on the other end of the corridor, it was Finley again. This time he had his own weapon and fired at Sean. Sean ducked into a room and dropped to the floor. Finley continued to fire through the wall itself as it was not thick enough to withstand the bullets. The rounds were going high, so Sean knew Finley must have assumed he was standing. He held the gun in front of his face, stretched his legs out behind him, and turned around the edge of the door. He saw Finley standing much closer than where he had been when he entered the room. With one hand, he pointed the gun down the hallway, without aiming, and pulled the trigger twice. Finley stopped firing. Sean’s eyes locked onto him and he saw that he was not moving. Curiously Sean watched, avoiding the temptation of firing again. Finley dropped to his knees as a small line of blood flowed from his mouth, and then he fell, face first into the carpeted floor.

  Sean stood up and walked to him. He nudged him with his foot and was satisfied that he was no longer a threat. He picked up his gun and put it into his waistband at the small of his back.

  He could hear the scuffles and the occasional gunshot on virtually every part of the boat. He decided it was safer to remain inside. He cautiously walked around the passageway until he came into a large open room. The room was dark, but he could still make out its borders. When he moved further into the room, he felt before he heard the suppressed gunshot. The round hit him in the meaty part of his shoulder. He dropped his gun, unable to maintain the strength to keep it in hand.

  Lights came on in the room revealing Marcel, holding the pistol Sean was shot with, and another man that could only be Silas Chandler. Marcel looked as though he would be more than happy to provide a repeat performance. Before that happened Chandler spoke.

  “You must be the Rylan boy,” he said in a haughty manner.

  There was an obvious aura of arrogance about him. Even if it hadn’t been for the events of the last few weeks, Sean would have taken an instant dislike of the man.

  “I think very highly of your sister, but it seems as if maybe she is the one with all of the intellect. I don’t think she would ever be so foolish as to do something like this.” He stepped behind a covered box and made himself less of a visible target.

  Sean wasn’t sure why he did this, as he was mostly focused on Marcel and the gun he kept pointed at him.

  “I must thank you for this,” he said as he patted the covered box. “And this,” he said as he lifted the staff from behind and held it to his side. “Too bad you won’t get a chance to witness it in action. I’m afraid I’ve already kept Marcel long enough from getting his satisfaction as far as you are concerned.”

  Taking that as a cue to action, Sean looked for a way out. When the smile had fully developed on Marcel’s face, Sean knew what was coming next. A sound from the other end of the room distracted him for the precious seconds he needed. Sean used his weak side hand to remove the gun from his waistband, and pointed it at Marcel. He fired three times as quickly as he could pull the trigger. He continued to pull on it, after those three shots, but this provided nothing more than the sound of metal striking metal. Marcel was dead before he fell to the floor.

  Leandro walked into the room holding his weapon out in front of him. He nodded toward Sean and then turned to face Chandler. Silas Chandler remained unconcerned at the series of events. He even attempted a brief smile as the other two men looked on.

  “You will hand over the ark and the rod,” Leandro demanded with his weapon pointing directly at him.

  “I think not.”

  Sean stood with his weapon also pointing at Silas Chandler. He remained that way until it dawned on him that it was now useless. He tossed it on a small couch that ran along the wall. He stepped closer to Leandro.

  “You cannot harm me while I have this,” Chandler said confidently while holding up the wooden staff.

  “We will not leave here without it,” Leandro countered just as assuredly.

  To Sean it seemed to be a stalemate. Neither man was one hundred per cent sure of what could and could not be done with the rod. Sean was sure then that Chandler had yet to attempt to use it. He smiled inwardly. He also recalled what the professor had told him about its use. He now stepped between the two men and looked directly at Silas Chandler.

  “Use it. You might as well try because I’m going to wrench it from your hands and do something to you with it that it was never intended for.” He said this as he walked slowly but purposefully at the man.

  In a fit of rage and consumed with power, Silas Chandler held the rod out before him and pointed it at Sean. “Die!” he said with hatred in his eyes.

  Sean stopped in mid-stride. He remained that way as if held immobile. A moment later, he saw the incredulous look on Silas Chandler’s face. The hand which held the rod was turning ashen gray. It continued to radiate in dark undertones as his skin slowly peeled away. The effect was continuing up his arm and throughout his entire body. His face was locked into a look of consternation as it was happening. Before he could let out a cry, the rod fell from his hands and his body was fully consumed. In a matter of seconds the person who was Silas Chandler became nothing more than a pile of ashes.

  Sean walked over, kicked at the ashes and then leaned down to pick up the rod. As he had experienced before while recovering from the drug he had been given, the rod worked to heal his wound. He stood with it in hand until the damage in his arm was completely restored. Leandro stared in amazement at what had been done, to Chandler and then again with Sean.

  He walked over to Leandro and handed him the rod. “I think this belongs to you.”

  He reached out and accepted it. After holding it in his hands and studying it he said, “No, it belongs to no man to whom it has not been given. We will protect it and make sure it stays out of the hands of those who would abuse its power.”

  Sean nodded his agreement.

  When he was at last able to take his eyes away from it, he turned to Sean and said, “Why did that happen?”

  When Sean saw that he indicated the pile of ashes he understood the question. “Professor James told me the rod could not be used for anything other than God’s purpose. The power would only reflect the approval of his will. I didn’t think Chandler was part of that purpose, nor part of his will, so I decided to let whatever was going to happen, happen.”

  “That is crazy. What if it didn’t work as you thought?”

  “It’s not a matter of sanity; it is a matter of faith,” he said with a smile.

  Leandro could do nothing but return it.

  Sean didn’t think he had anything to fear. He had used the power of the rod himself and was somehow sure that he was safe, although he didn’t think it would happen exactly the way it did.

  Leandro walked over to the covered ark. He threw off the sheet, held the staff in one hand, and pushed on the top of the ark to move its lid. A sharp hiss of air, as if a seal was broken, came as a result. He pushed the cover aside far enough to allow him to place the rod back into its rightful place. He then closed the lid once more. When he turned to Sean, he was greeted by a strange look.

  The hair on his head and his face was as white as new wool. Even his eyebrows were fully white in color. His face was no older, but his eyes appeared as if they had somehow aged as well. Realizing something was different, he walked to a mirror which hung along the wall.

  “I guess that means you now have the responsibility of guardianship,” Sean suggested.

  “Indeed,” Leandro replied, still considering his changed appearance. “This was from the ark. Only those who were approved can handle it, let alone look inside. The rod protected me.”

  When they looked once again at each other Sean said, “Well, that just means no one can take it back out. I think that is a good thing.”

  Leandro nodded in agreement.

  ~ Twenty ~

  Sean slept through most of the flight home. Leandro made the arrangements for his flight and the men who were with hi
m all wished him well. They made him feel as if he were one of them, which was quite contrary to their initial reaction to his involvement. He assured Leandro that he could handle his friend in the FBI. Either way, it didn’t really matter. There was nothing they could do about it now.

  When the flight attendants drew near to him, he opened one eye to see what they were doing. They had a metal cart between them and were handing out breakfast trays. He decided his hunger outweighed his exhaustion and moved to sit upright. He accepted everything they offered with a smile and was finished with his meal before they completed their service. He looked across the two seats and out the small window to see the sun rising somewhere in the distance, signaling a new day. He thought the least they could have done for him was get him a first class ticket for his ride home, after all he had done for them, but it didn’t turn out so bad as the large plane was only half full.

  When his plane landed in Newark, he was anxious about the fact that he still did not have his passport. Leandro assured him that he would have someone take care of him. Sean thought that was dubious at best as it was unlikely they would ever see each other again. When he approached the customs agent he simply handed her his driver’s license and smiled. She raised her eyebrows in question before taking notice of the name. She turned and called someone he assumed was her supervisor and handed him Sean’s license. He came to the counter and asked Sean to follow him. He walked him through that section of the terminal and pointed him to the baggage claim.

  He held his hand out and said, “Thank you.”

  Sean took his hand and dipped his head once in acknowledgment. These guys are everywhere, he thought to himself.

  He walked to the baggage area, not to claim any luggage, but to hopefully find Alex and Dee waiting for him. He called them two days before he flew out and asked them to meet him there. Dee told him that they held Tori’s funeral services in her hometown the day before he called. Her uncle had taken care of all of the arrangements and even saw to their needs.