Absence of Faith (43 page)

"Hold it right there!" said one of
the officers.

Carson and Husk raised their
hands.

"Stop! They’re my friends!" Frank
yelled as he rushed in after the officers.

Yanni followed.

"Carson, is Linda ok?"

"I think so. They drugged her,"
Carson said holding her hand. "We need to get her to the
hospital."

"Are you all right?" Frank asked.
"You look terrible."

"Maybe." he replied. "Husk needs
help. He got shot."

"Oh, no!"

"Where's Chantress?" Yanni
asked.

"Don't know," Carson said. "She
took off."

Jerry Vandergarde got out of the
fourth car, rushed into the warehouse, and went over to Nick. The
two officers first on the scene had lowered Nick to the
ground.

"Nick! Nick!" Vandergarde said
knelling down next to him.

Nick did not respond.

"We need an ambulance," Frank
said.

"It's on its way," Vandergarde
said.

"How did you know we were here?"
Carson asked.

"We got a call from Frank earlier
and had the area staked out since nightfall," Vandergarde
explained. "When we heard the shots, we came in."

Carson gave Frank a nasty
look.

"Well, I’m glad you
came."

Two ambulances arrived several
minutes later and Linda, Nick, and Husk were carried out on
stretchers. Carson went in the ambulance holding Linda’s hand.
Several police officers appeared from the rear of the warehouse
leading several people in handcuffs.

"How many is that?"

The female officer turned and
counted them.

"Twelve, detective."

"One's missing!" Husk said. "They
always have these ceremonies with thirteen people."

Husk raised his head and scanned
the crowd. "It's Kyle."

"Who?" Vandergarde
reacted.

"Kyle, the leader. He's
missing."

C
hantress
ran to the back of the warehouse, the barrel of her gun still warm
from the shot she fired at Kyle. She entered the thickly wooded
area, and crawled close to a dense bramble bush careful to avoid
its prickly thorns. The police would be out in full force looking
for her, she thought. It was best to lay low near the warehouse
where they would not think to look. Chantress' eyes adjusted to the
dim moonlight and she could see the silhouette of the warehouse
clearly. She watched as the members of the coven fled in fear one
by one. One man nearly stepped on her, missing her leg by only
inches as he ran.

"Crack!" The first shot rang out
and Chantress shuddered thinking they had killed either Carson or
Husk.

"Crack!" The second shot rang out
and she trembled. A tear formed in her right eye and escaped down
her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her trembling hand,
and then looked back at the warehouse. She took a deep
breath.

"Enough is enough!" she whispered
to herself.

She got up and froze. The door to
the smaller shed behind the warehouse opened. A dark figure slowly
slithered out. First, the head appeared and turned from side to
side, and then the thin body emerged. The figure walked a few feet
and the light of the moon illuminated his face.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Chantress
screamed.

She raised the gun instinctively
and fired. The great flash from the barrel temporarily blinded her.
When her eyes adjusted the dark figure was gone. Off to the left,
she heard a rustling and she moved in that direction as fast as she
could, breaking small tree branches as she pushed through the
foliage. The rustling sound moved as fast as she did and sometimes
faster. She was convinced it was Kyle. She chased the figure for
several minutes until she reached a small clearing. The dark figure
ran through the clearing and down a small path. She followed like a
crazed animal chasing down a meal. After several minutes, she felt
beads of sweat form on her scalp and cascade down her temples and
down her cheeks. Her lungs began to burn, but she didn't slow down.
The black memory of the rape flashed through her mind, the
deception, the pain of losing someone she had truly loved. He had
turned all of her emotions into hatred, and now that hatred was
turned into energy and a will to catch him at all costs.

Suddenly, the rustling stopped. Her
breathing was louder than the cadence of hundreds, maybe thousands
of crickets singing into the night. She held her breath to listen.
Her chest burned. Then there was a new sound. It was unfamiliar at
first and then it was clear. She started running again, but at a
slower speed and with more care. The path led into a field of grass
about three feet tall and she could see freshly damaged blades of
grass that marked where her prey had moved through the field.
An
instant road map
, she thought smiling to herself. She moved
quickly and then stopped as the coldness struck her feet and ankles
and ran up her legs. It was a swamp! The tall grass was swamp
grass! A sliver of fear cut through her mind - fear of snakes, fear
of the darkness, fear of things lurking in the black, brackish
water. She looked at the broken swamp grass, swallowed hard and
started moving again. Her feet numbed in a few minutes and she no
longer felt the alien swamp creep up into her legs, into her
consciousness.

Chantress moved as fast as she
could through the brackish water, fearful of water snakes and other
slithering things. The path led out of the swamp quickly and back
onto dry land. She stopped there and listened. There was only the
sound of the crickets. Then the rustling started again and she
moved silently towards the sound. A beam of light danced in the
darkness and moved in her direction. She walked slowly to the left
of the light, found a small indentation in the ground, and laid in
it on her stomach. She looked up and watched the light as it moved
closer and closer. It stopped several times and then resumed moving
again in her direction. The light moved closer and stopped again.
She put her face down on the dark, damp earth and held her breath.
The dark figure stood only several feet from her with the light of
flashlight dancing all around her. The figure was breathing
heavily. She moved her head ever so slowly in his direction. The
figure crouched down and put the large flashlight on the ground. He
fumbled with something in front of the light and then stood up. He
brought his hand up to his face and there was a scratching sound.
Suddenly, his face lit up by the flame of a small lighter and the
red, glowing tip of a cigarette. He wore a hat - a police officer's
hat.

Again, something moved. It was by
her belly. It moved again slowly and Chantress pressed her teeth
together tightly to control her fear. It moved again and the cold
sensation started. At first, the cold feeling was at the base of
her stomach, and then it increased and moved towards her side and
moved around to her back. Chantress remained stone still, although
her mind screamed in total chaos. The slithering creature moved
along her back, then moved upward towards her neck, then went back
down towards her waist. It tried to slither into her jeans, but her
jeans were too tight. It turned and slithered up her back again.
The police officer was still close by enjoying the cigarette. The
snake made its way under her armpit and then slithered along her
arm. Chantress clenched her teeth harder and beads of sweat dripped
into her eyes. Her mind was a fog of fear. The snake continued
along her arm and exited her shirtsleeve. The police officer threw
his cigarette and it landed on Chantress' back. Almost immediately,
she could feel the heat of the cigarette intensify. The police
officer lingered - the heat on her back increased. She clenched her
teeth again - this time harder. The heat from the cigarette felt
like a small knife slowly pushed into her back. The police officer
stepped forward right over her head and vanished into the swamp
grass. Chantress sprung up like a coiled spring and shook off the
cigarette. She stamped it into the ground in a mad dance of hatred
and frustration. When she stopped, she noticed a dim orange light
lit up the horizon in front of her. She started running towards the
light.

As she moved up to higher, dryer
ground, the sky grew brighter. She followed the misty orange light
to the end of the woods and a marina came into view. She picked up
her pace and began running again until she reached the docks.
Several mercury vapor lights cast the eerie orange light onto the
boats creating ominous angled shapes. A slight breeze caught a
sailboat halyard occasionally slamming it against the aluminum mast
causing a metallic pinging. The water rippled from a light wind.
Chantress walked along one of four floating docks as silently as a
cat. Her weight caused the dock to move and creak. Fear and anger
raced through her body at an uncontrolled pace. A fish broke the
surface nearby - Chantress instantly pointed the gun towards the
splashing. Her emotions swirled in a stew of chaos, confusion,
hate, anger, and fear.
Did she really want to kill Kyle? Would
she go through with it? What had she gotten mixed up in? Revenge?
Murder? Had she become like them
, she thought. She wedged the
gun between her jeans and her butt and walked off the dock.
What
did I think I was going to do when I found the coven stead? Shoot
everybody who resisted? Take them hostage? I should have called the
police
, she thought. She walked towards a large wooden house
that resembled an oversized shanty that served as the marina bar
and office. She moved alongside the building towards the parking
lot scolding herself for letting her emotions turn her into a
savage beast out for revenge. She had had enough
. Let the police
handle it,
she thought. Kyle will cause his own downfall.
Why should I lower myself to his level?
she
thought.

When she reached the end of the
building, she looked up at the starry sky and noticed the Big
Dipper. She had never really seen it - only in pictures. Suddenly,
her head was pulled back violently and she felt herself falling.
She was slammed to the ground and the pain spread throughout her
entire body. A dark shadow was suddenly on top of her and it
grabbed her neck and began to squeeze.

"I should have done this earlier,"
the voice said.

She knew immediately who it
was.

Chantress felt her stomach heave as
her lungs tried to suck in air. Fear took hold of her body and she
began to kick her legs and pivot her abdomen like a fish out of
water. But, the dark weight on her was too heavy and her lungs
screamed for more air. She was beginning to feel tired, very tired
and her thoughts were beginning to cloud. Her chest burned and the
pain in her neck intensified.
Not this time, you
son-of-a-bitch!
she screamed in her mind. She moved her arm
behind her and her arm felt like it weighed hundreds of pounds. Her
fingers could barely feel the gun, but then the cold metal of felt
like the water in a pond in mid winter. She ignored the sensation
and got her hand around the handle and her finger on the trigger.
Her arm felt heavier now, but she had to go through with it. She
was very sleepy now and thought it might be better just to sleep.
Sleep felt so good, so good. Then the voice in her head screamed
again.
Not this time! Never!
With all that she could muster,
she focused what little energy remained on moving her arm. Her arm
moved out behind her and she saw her finger pull on the silver
trigger.

"Tap!" and everything turned white
and vanished.

Chantress awoke and sucked in large
gulps of the damp night air insatiably. The darkness returned and
her hand was touching something warm and sticky. She looked at her
hand - the gun was still there. She sat up on the dusty driveway
and looked at the gun covered with blood. As her eyes adjusted to
the dim moonlight, she quickly looked around, but no one was there.
The clouds in her mind began to evaporate and she attempted to
stand up, but when she stood, the surroundings swam around as if
she were on a merry-go-around. She stumbled to the building and
leaned against the wall, still vigorously filling her lungs with
air. Her stomach tightened and she touched her throat - it was
sore. She smiled slightly as she realized she had beaten death,
beaten Kyle. She saw death coming and that frightened her more than
what had happened.

The whirling, steel rattling of an
outboard starting suddenly pierced the night silence and she ran
quickly towards the docks. She saw a small powerboat quickly back
out of its slip and hit an adjacent piling. The figure driving the
boat was dressed in black.

"Nooooooooooo!" Chantress
screamed.

The figure steering the boat turned
and the sickly orange glow from the mercury vapor lights washed
over his face. She raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The shot
lit up the docks in front of her, and the boat surged forward out
of the marina towards the inlet.

The boat had to travel west for
about 200 yards to clear the jetty to enter the inlet. Chantress
knew that if she reached the jetty, she could head him off. She ran
as fast as she could and her chest hurt. The moon, now a tiny spot
in the sky, did not provide much light. When she reached the
blackened rocks, she could barely see them. She slowed down
somewhat, but not enough. Her right foot slipped and slid into a
crevice.