Dance For The Devil (35 page)

“Like hell,” she hissed, swirling around. She struck him on the side of his face with her fist.

He staggered, smiling bigger. “Ah, it’s like that, huh? Okay, you pagan-bitch, you’re in for it now.”

He came at her like a raging bull. There was no escape, and she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the collision. If only she could get him off balance –

A deafening sound echoed through the room. Cari looked up to see Gil laying face up, dark
blood oozing from a half-dozen walnut-size holes in the center of his chest.

“Take that, asshole,” a thin voice cursed, and Cari swung around to see a young girl holding Jake’s scattergun in her shaking hand.

“Who are you?” Cari asked, taking in the girl’s bedraggled appearance, frightened eyes, and the unmistakable signs of a second-trimester pregnancy-swollen belly.

“Charise Lee. I’m fourteen years old, and I’ve been here for a long time. I want to go home.”

Cari looked back at Gil. He was still alive. Blood was bubbling from his chest at an alarming rate, and he was twitching sporadically. He was trying to work his mouth, but nothing came out. “Give me the gun, Charise. Please, let it go. You’re shaking so badly you’re liable to shoot yourself in the foot.”

“I want to shoot him again,” Charise said shakily.

“I know, me too. But look at him, he’s finished. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Cari held her hand out and gently dislodged the weapon. “I need your help, Charise. Are there other girls here?”

Charise nodded. “Four of us.”

“Where are they?”

“Don’t know. Gone. G
ina went one way and Lauren went the other. Outside, I think. Gina said we had to go in different directions, so I had to come down here. Didn’t want to. Hate it down here. But there was no other choice. So I hid in a cupboard and was too scared to come out, even when I saw him hurting Amy... and you. I saw through the keyhole.” She nodded at Jake. “When that man fell in front of me, I saw his gun and I didn’t think anymore, just started moving.” A sudden thought twigged and she looked at Cari. “Will I go to jail for shooting him?”

“No, honey,” Cari said, stroking her hair. “They don’t put people in jail for that, they give them medals.”

**

Gina heard the sirens and renewed her thrashing. “Let me go, you fucking bastard,” she cursed.

“Stop struggling,” the tall man ordered. “I am trying to help you, not hurt you.”

She paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

“Look,” he said, bringing down his raised arm. “You’ve got string wrapped around your neck from one of my traps. I’m just trying to loosen it before you strangle yourself.”

The sirens grew louder. “Your traps?”
she said warily, eyeing his midsection. If he moved slightly forward, she’d be able to give him a good kick in the balls.

“I live on the property next door, and I was tracking a deer. Usually they won’t come anywhere near this place on account of the electric fence, and when I saw the stag butting up against it, it got me curious. Power was turned off. Look,” he said, pulling the string gently away from her neck, “I know I’m trespassing, but I got so damn curious I forgot about the deer and decided to come for a look-see. My wife says I’m too damn nosy, and maybe it’s true, but I had to see for myself.”

“See what?” she asked suspiciously.

“What goes on here. Something’s not right, you know. Something wrong is going on here, some kind of funny business. For years this place was peaceful, never saw a soul. Then a flurry of activity. They throw up this fence, people coming and going at all hours...funny business. You know anything about it?” He pushed his hat off his face and for the first time Gina could clearly see his face. He was weathered and kindly-looking, much like her grandfather, and she suddenly understood she was in no danger from him.

“Yeah, mister,” she said, accepting his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. “What I know could fill a book.”

**

Jake struggled to consciousness amid a swirl of bright lights and commotion. Somebody was peering into his eyes with a flashlight and he pushed him away gruffly.

Cari was there at once. “It’s okay,” she told the paramedic. “I’ll take care of him, go see to the others.” She cradled Jake’s head in her lap. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, stroking the dark hair, “you missed the party.”

He looked around, squinting. “Looks like a hell of a party. Amy...?”

“She’s fine. Outside, in the ambulance.”

“I’ve got to see her.”

“You will. And there’s someone else waiting for you, too. Your son.”

“Skeet?” Jake struggled to get up. “Where?”

“Sergeant Carmichael brought him. He’s outside, with Amy. Your children are safe, Jake.
All your babies are safe.”

“Thank God,” he said. He reached for her, holding her tightly, and began to weep.

**

Sergeant Benny Carmichael surveyed the grim carnage in the room. A younger officer l
eft abruptly, heaving as he exited. Carmichael knew how he felt. His own stomach, despite several decades on the force, threatened to give way. There were too many bodies, too much suffering to feel differently. It was like a war zone.

“Christ, there has to be at least a hundred bodies in here,” someone remarked.

Carmichael began barking orders. “Keep the press out, they’re going to have a field day with this.”

“Sergeant!”

Benny turned abruptly, concerned with the tone of the voice.

“We
just found kids in another room, a whole swack of them. It looks pretty bad. You’d better come in and see.” The bleakness of the officer’s voice gave Carmichael indication of just how bad it would be, and he steeled himself. It was one thing seeing a roomful of dead adults, quite another to see murdered children.

He followed the officer and entered the room. Over a dozen small bodies lay scattered about, some still clenching the paper drink cups.

The surreal scene struck the Sergeant oddly from the first moment, but it took several long seconds to put his finger on it. At first glance, this room was a gruesome replica of the other, played out in duplicate on a lesser scale both in the size and number of the tiny victims. Then it struck him: the expressions were different. Where the adults wore contorted, obscene grimaces attesting to hideous pain, the children seemed at peace. Like they were sleeping.

Carmichael bent and felt for a pulse on the first limp wrist he came upon. Nothing. He waited.

Nothing.

He fumbled around, searching for the vein again, and waited.

There it was. A single, faint beat. He nodded and went to the next child, trying again. He repeated the process over and over. When he turned, his attending officers were surprised to see the wide grin spreading across his face. “They’re not dead,” he stated.

“Yeah? They’re sure as hell not sleeping.”

“No, they’re in comas, drug-induced comas. Somebody get a paramedic.”

A paramedic was produced promptly. “What would do this?” Benny demanded.

The paramedic felt for a pulse, waited, then checked another child, a small blond girl with ringlets. He looked back at Carmichael and scratched his head. “My guess? Beta blocker of some type – Inderal, maybe. Slows the pulse and heartbeat. Mimics death.”

“By why?”

“Maybe someone wanted them to look dead. Whoever did it probably saved their lives.”

“When will it wear off?”

The paramedic shrugged. “Depends on the dosage.” He began to check the other children. “But I suspect, in five or six hours, these munchkins will be back to normal.”

**

Gil Vandercamp had the oddest feeling as the two paramedics clamored over his body. It felt like he was watching from below, yet also from above, as if he was viewing the room from the ceiling. It felt like he was floating in a sea of pain... no, that wasn’t it, exactly. He felt as if he was
consumed
by pain, as if every molecule was afire.

He could hear them speaking but couldn’t understand what they were saying. He watched their mouths working like marionettes, but the words were garbled and nonsensical. Even their actions were confusing: What the hell were they doing to him?

Gil began to panic – yet outwardly it made no difference. His body remained inert, broken. At the precise moment he was shot, a massive color-burst lit up the inside of his head. A brilliant lightshow that both frightened and dazzled him – a spectacle that that lit up his nervous system like gallons of hydrochloric acid were running though his veins.

Afterwards, all external images and stimuli were completely
disrupted by the intensity of the internal atrocities, yet his brain was as vibrant and clear as ever. He hadn’t died. He hadn’t gone to the other side. He hadn’t gone to join his family and followers and his sacred Seth on the Dark Side. Instead, he was trapped here in a world of unrelenting pain, being poked and prodded by a couple of idiots who looked and sounded like aliens.

One of the aliens was looking at him right now, staring into his eyeballs, which intensified the pain to unimaginable heights. Gil tried to shrink back in horror: the sight of the man was hideous – juxtaposed Picasso face and slime oozing from his
mouth instead of words – but Gil’s body refused to move. He tried to scream as the alien creature breathed postulant bacteria directly into Gil’s burning nostrils, but his voice remained barren. He tried to close his eyes but they remained wide-open, and his eyeballs felt as if they were being shredded by razor blades. What were they doing? Why were they making the pain worse? Why wouldn’t they make it stop?

Then he understood at last.
The pain would never stop. Satan
was
here.
This was Hell.

**

“Weird, huh?” the younger paramedic stated. “Think it’s a stroke?”

“Maybe. His vitals are stable, despite the amount of blood he’s lost. One of the bullets appears to have struck the spinal cord, which would account for the paralysis. It’s a miracle nothing else was hit.
His pupils are responsive but fixated, not following the beam.”

“What’s your best guess, Roy?”

The older paramedic frowned. “Too early to say.”

“Yeah, but between us, what do you think?”

Roy hesitated. “Well, I’m not qualified to diagnose, of course, be my guess is that he’s probably a vegetable.”

His partner whistled.
Harsh, but Roy batted a hundred percent when it came to guessing. “Too bad. He’s awfully young, can’t be over forty. Could live another fifty years like this.”

“Yeah, what a waste. Good looking dude, too. Looks like a movie star.”

“Can you imagine spending the rest of your life like this? Unable to move, communicate or even do the simplest thing like take a leak? Torture. Your own body a prison. Worse than death.”

They loaded him on
to the gurney, careful to keep his neck and back stabilized. “Got him?”

They began to carry Gil Vandercamp out to the ambulance. An officer held the door open. “What’s with that?” he asked, motioning at the large bundle of gauze on Gil’s groin.

Roy shrugged. “Somebody cut off his pecker and shoved it up his ass. Can you believe that? Who would do such a thing?”

The officer looked around the room, surveying the scene. Dozens and doze
ns of bodies covering the floor and the benches, many still wearing their hoods and clasping purple-stained Dixie cups. A host of grim medical workers carrying out babies and children. Shocked looking reporters rubbernecking at the door held back by disgusted cops. “Oh,” he said, shaking his head. “I see a room full of people who’d pay big time for that honor. Jeez, when you think of the atrocities this guy has committed... well, I kind of wish I’d done it myself.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“You going home today?” Charise asked, looking at Gina shyly.

“Nah. Don’t have no home to go to.”

Charise thought about her own family and looked at the dozens of flower arrangements sent by both them and her friends. Her own homecoming would be heartfelt and she ached that it would be so different for Gina. The girls had asked to room together in the hospital and Gina’s area was stark in contrast.

“Couldn’t they find your family?”

“They found them, but they didn’t want me.”

“Oh, Gina. I’m sorry. Maybe you could live with me? My folks won’t mind, after all, you kind of saved my life.”

“No,” Gina said, smiling at her newborn baby. “Emily and I are a family now. We don’t need anyone else.”

“She’s so beautiful, Gina. I’m almost envious of you.”

Gina looked at Charise sharply. “Are you sorry you had the abortion?”

Charise shook her head vehemently. “No, it’s for the best. I’m too young for a baby, I have my whole life ahead of me, and besides, I wouldn’t want a baby conceived by...” she broke off suddenly, looking at Emily. “I’m sorry, Gina, I didn’t mean anything...”

Gina looked up and smiled. Her face was transformed and she actually looked pretty, at peace. A far cry from the girl Charise had known all these months. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. You do have your whole life ahead of you, but this little baby... well, she
is
my life. I never even wanted her, and now, well, I can’t imagine life without her. Funny how things work out, huh?”

Charise swallowed, a lump of emotion welling in her throat. “Where are you going to live?”

“Sergeant Carmichael said they’re going to set up a group home for the children that aren’t claimed by relatives or adopted. You know, the older ones that nobody wants. I thought I’d stay and help. Raise Emily there and help with the others. Jason’s going to stay too. You know, he’s not such a bad guy after all. I used to think he was such a prick – ooch, sorry Emily. Mommy shouldn’t talk like that! – but he’s really not too bad. Kind of cute, actually. Did you know he saved Emily’s life?”

Charise nodded. “May
I visit you?”

Gina smiled again, stunning Charise with her beauty. “Yeah, I’ll count on it.”

**

Jake
held his children close. The Montclaire family had been discharged from the hospital... all three of them. “Group rate,” Jake had joked to the nurse, surprised at how joyful and full of life he felt.

“We look like an insurance company ad,” Amy commented, looking
at Jake’s bandaged head, Skeeter’s cuts and bruises, and her own less visible injuries. “I’m so sorry,” she added. “I was such a jerk. This whole thing was my fault.”

Jake brushed away the tears. “No it wasn’t. No matter what happens, remember that, sweetheart. None of this was your fault.” While he wasn’t naive enough to believe everything was fine, the hospital psychologist seemed hopeful that an eventual recovery would be made. Together, they’d get through it. “Besides,” he added, “I was a jerk, too.”

“Yeah, me too,” Skeeter offered, climbing onto Jake’s lap. The boy was awkward and bony, yet Jake cuddled him like an infant.

“Just one big jerk-fest,” Jake grinned.

Cari sat down delicately. “Count me out. I, for one, was most definitely not a jerk.”

“Hang around with us long enough and you’ll qualify,” Skeeter suggested.

Amy snickered. “Yeah, for now we’ll make you an honorary member.”

“Gee, I’m touched. Let’s change the subject.”

“Alright,” Jake teased. “Let’s ask Skeet again how they found him.”

The boy reddened, still emb
arrassed about being found behind some trash cans. The homeowner had heard some noise, and fearing a raid by raccoons, had come out with a bucket of water and doused the sleeping boy. It was hard to tell who was more surprised. “Not very glamorous,” Skeeter conceded. “Do the kids at school have to hear about this?”

“They do if I have something to say about it,” Amy quipped
, but her voice held none of the torment from the past.

“Actually,” Jake said slowly. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe you won’t need to tell them anything, maybe it’s time to move on. Either back to Toronto, or somewhere new. Somewhere we can start fresh, somewhere with no bad memories.”

Amy frowned. “What about Cari?”

Cari smiled and took the girl’s hand. “I’d come, of course. That is... if everyone wanted me to.”

“I don’t know,” Jake said. “It’d be pretty lousy having someone as beautiful as you hanging around –”

“Cooking our meals, helping with homework, doing our laundry... gee, who’d want that?” Amy teased, shyly. She di
dn’t know Cari very well yet, but their connection had been immediate. Not only had Cari risked her own life for Amy’s, which carried a tremendous amount of weight, Amy found her to be the sweetest, gentlest person she’d ever met. No one could ever replace her mother, but Cari wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, she could see both her dad and Skeeter liked her a lot.

“Would we call you Mom?” Skeeter wondered. “Wouldn’t that just rock? Having a witch for a stepmother, I mean. If someone did something I didn’t like, you could cast a spell on them.”

“Turn them into a frog,” Amy suggested.

“More misconceptions,” Cari laughed. “The very best I could do is give them a few warts.”

Amy smiled, thinking of her English teacher, the dreaded Mr. Groom. “Warts would be good. Maybe we should stay in Victoria after all.”

The kids wandered off, discussing various people they’d like to cast spells on, and Jake settled comfortably onto Cari’s sofa. “Would you really do that?”

“What? Give their teachers warts?”

“No, stay with us. I mean, live with us. I mean, marry us.”

“Marry all of you?”

“Well, we do come as a package.”

“You certainly do.”

“I was going to propose properly, you know, bent knee, diamond ring, romantic setting, but the kids seem to have beaten me to it.”

“They make a compelling argument. Who could resist casting spells on unsuspecting teachers?” She stroked her belly, thinking of the unborn twins. Their presence wouldn’t be known for weeks yet, at least not officially, yet she could swear she already felt different. Jake knew nothing about the babies. She had lots of time before sharing the news. Time for him to get back on his feet, to recover. A lifetime of togetherness.

“Well?” he prompted.

“I’m thinking...” she teased.

“You have to say yes. You saved my life, so now you’re responsible for me.”

“Oh, where did you hear that old wives tale?”

“
Can’t recall. Jimmy Kimmel, maybe?”

“A bastion of accuracy if there ever was one.” A sudden thought entered her head. “Jake,
did you speak to Jason yet?”

“Yeah, went to see him last night. Poor kid, he’s pretty mixed up. He feels
responsible for this whole mess. Wishes he’d spoken up earlier.”

Cari frowned. “That’s ridiculous. He’s only a baby, sixteen. It was an awful
decision he had to make, to choose between the only family he’s ever had, the only way of life he’s ever known. He overcame everything and risked his life. He’s a hero.”

“I know. Maybe he’ll know it one day, too. Right now he’s still grieving. He’s refusing to see Gil, won’t have anything to do with him.”

“Funny how that turned out, huh? It would have been better off if he died.”

Jake’s mouth tightened. “Death would have been too easy. This way he’ll suffer for the rest of his life. He’s still undergoing tests but the doctors feel there’s no hope for recovery.”

“Will you go see him?”

“No, he’s nothing to me. While the body of Gil Vandercamp may be alive, he’s dead to me. Jason’s words, and I agree wholeheartedly.

“Did Jason know Suzanne was giving him a placebo instead of the deadly cocktail?”

“Not for sure. He had
an inkling that she wouldn’t kill the children because she loved kids so much. They’d often talked about such a scenario, and she’d told Jason she would never hurt him.”

“Still – he wasn’t sure?”

“No, he drank it on faith. Although, I think at that point, he really didn’t care whether he died or not.”

They both remained quiet for a moment, struggling to piece together the remaining puzzle. It was all so fresh, so grim. Perhaps in time it would make sense, or perhaps it never would.

After a few minutes, Jake reached over and held her hand, stroking it. “Something good came out of this whole tragedy – we got the chance to find each other.”

“Destiny,” she said, smiling. “I told you it was destiny.”

“You
will
marry us?”

“As long as you promise never to complain to your friends that your wife is a real witch.”

He smiled. “Promise.” Then, hesitatingly, “you won’t mind moving? It’s a big decision, everything is here for you: your parents and friends, your house, your bookstore.”

“My life is with you.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

Cari shifted and felt a sudden flurry in her stomach. Impossible, she was only days pregnant. Yet
, she knew her body, with the instinct of a woman and the clairvoyance of a witch. “I’m open to adventure, haven’t you figured that out yet?” He bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Besides, I can open a bookstore anywhere, but something tells me,” she said, bending to claim his lips, “that I’ll be
much
too busy to tend a bookstore.”

He moaned, mistaking her intentions for those of a lewder nature, as his lips claimed hers
, one hand pulling her closer, his other hand falling unconsciously to cup protectively around her abdomen.

Daisy looked at the
m quizzically, woofed softly, and curled her muzzle until it resembled a very satisfied smile.

-
         
The End -

I hope you enjoyed
this novel. If so, I would be very grateful if you’d leave me a review. As an independent writer, positive reviews are essential for success. Thank you and happy reading! S. Kodejs.

Also by S. Kodejs
:

Eternity. If you could live forever, would you? No matter what the cost?

When Gillian Leigh returns home to Cedar Island she finds the idyllic hamlet is not what it seems. Not only are her husband and baby acting strangely, so is everyone else. Toddlers able to perform unthinkable physical acts, schoolchildren with disturbing intellectual abilities, robotic adults studying her with an intensity that is frightening. It’s as if all of Cedar Island has gone mad... or maybe it’s just her. With a mental breakdown in the past, Gillian recognizes the symptoms.

10-year-old Stacy Kennedy has plenty of experience evading difficult situations, but what’s happening on Cedar Island is beyond her capabilities. Not only is her drunken mother and current live-in boyfriend acting weirder than normal, so are her classmates. They want something from Stacy – but she’s too afraid to find out what.

As the few uninfected residents of Cedar Island try to escape, their only avenue is abruptly cut off. Hunted by their families and friends, they must band together to uncover what horrors
really lie at the center of Cedar Island. They must choose if the path to eternity is evil or simply another technological breakthrough.

CHAPTER ONE: SUNDAY

Gillian Leigh’s sanity took a right turn moments after she walked through her front door. Immediately, she sensed something was different.... wrong. Nothing overt, nothing she could put her finger on. The furniture lay where it should, the tropical fish swam in their same dizzying circles and three days worth of dishes congealed in the sink. Robert’s doing, of course. Robert, bless his soul, was the ultimate slob. Without conscious thought, she filled the sink with hot, soapy water and left them to soak while she checked the rest of the house.

The feeling of unease followed her. Everything
looked
normal but
felt
wrong. As if she was viewing everything through distorted glass. There was dampness here that went beyond the chill of the air, an emptiness which juxtaposed sharply with the homey decor.