Eve of Redemption (48 page)

“This place has déjà vu written all over it,” Martinez said.

Raquel grunted her agreement.

The door they had entered crashed to the floor, announcing that their pursuers had caught up with them. Break time was over.

JOSIAH DID HIS best to keep the Rebels together, but Max and Dierdra were missing. They had been running for too long, and they didn’t know these streets like the monsters did. Josiah had considered his options as he ran, but he had never been a smart man, and he was too unfamiliar with the territory to make a guess as to where to go. He kicked himself. Tiny and Raquel had trusted him to take care of the flock, but Josiah’s only claim to power had been the knowledge the voices had given him—knowledge now proven unreliable.

Josiah turned toward another alley to the right. He heard the others follow and was surprised that none had questioned his authority. Probably no one else wanted the responsibility of leading the gang through this madhouse. A concrete stairway led down into darkness. Something in the back of his consciousness told him to duck down there, even if his rational mind knew that would be the stupidest thing he could do. He had no idea what might be down there. They might even find themselves trapped at a dead end.

Still, something nagged at him.

He cursed himself as he turned and fled into the darkness below. There were only six or seven steps. He didn’t really take the time to count. The wide stairs ended at a set of double wooden doors—the door on the right had a rusty handle with a thumb latch. He grabbed the handle and yanked on the latch, but it refused to move. He used his palm to push down on it and then pressed down with both hands before it broke loose and the door swung inward. Josiah shoved through it, helped along by the mass of bodies that piled in behind him. As soon as everyone was in, he slammed the door.

“Find something to brace it with,” he said. He scanned the room. Dim bulbs swung on wires from the ceiling, creating dancing shadows in the basement. As far as he could remember, this was the first sign of electricity they had seen. Two of the men slid a heavy wooden table in front of the door. Another set a heavy box on top of the table.

“Keep it coming,” Josiah said. “The beasties be slow, but that doesn’t mean they ain’t strong.” He grabbed another table and, with Spec’s help, added it to the pile in front of the barricade. Just then, something slammed against the other side. The doors flexed but otherwise held.

“No windows,” Spec said, “but we’ve gotta make sure there’s no other way in.”

“There’s another door back here,” one of the men said.

“Can you barricade it?” Josiah asked.

“It opens the other way,” the man said as another crash slammed the front doors.

Josiah cursed and hurried over to inspect the door. He twisted the knob and was disappointed when it turned easily. He pushed the door open and peered down a narrow passage. Naked yellow light bulbs hung from the low ceiling.

“Well Josiah? What now?”

Josiah shrugged. “I’m tired of running, but I don’t like the idea of trapping ourselves in here, either. My gut says we keep going, see where this passage leads. If we run into anything we don’t like, we can always hightail it back here and make a stand.”

“If those others don’t get in first,” Lynx said, nodding at the door from which they had come in. Josiah realized it was the first time he had heard anything from her in quite some time.

“Anyone for waiting here?” Josiah didn’t get any takers. No one wanted to face those things that had decapitated Throttle in the street.

Josiah hefted his lucky machete and led the way into the passage. After a few steps, he paused. “A couple of you grab some of those cement bags and add them to the barricade. Only a couple, though. If we have to come back this way in a hurry, we don’t want to have to clear too much to get out.” If nothing else, Josiah figured anything breaking through the barrier would make enough noise to alert him to their presence. The remnants of the Lord’s Rebels followed the underground passage for twenty yards before coming to a narrow wooden staircase. Josiah held up a hand for the rest of the group to stop as he peered up to where the steps disappeared into darkness. He was getting a bad vibe from it and was about to tell the others to turn around when the sound of the barricade breaking open changed his mind.

“Step it up, slackers. We’ve got company.” The ancient steps creaked and bowed beneath his feet when he pounded up them. As the light faded, he slowed just enough to avoid running his nose into the door at the top. Still, he hit it harder than he would have liked, and Spec came from behind to double the impact. Josiah felt for a doorknob and spun it both ways, but the door remained shut tight. He hit it with his shoulder, but it refused to open.

“Hank, get up here,” Josiah called. “We need some body weight.” Josiah stepped as far out of the way as he could in the confined space to allow Hank to climb to the top of the stairs. The monsters made their slow but steady way toward the Rebels.

Hank slammed against the door once, twice, then three times before the distinct sound of cracking wood announced his success. Josiah squinted at the bright light as he followed the big man through the splintered door. They had gone no more than a few steps when Josiah ran into Hank’s back.

“Don’t stop! Keep going!”

“Go where?”

Josiah peered around Hank and gazed out over the remains of the derelict city. The entire side of the building had caved in, leaving only the narrow portion on which Josiah and his friends now stood. Josiah retraced their steps in his mind. They had gone from the street to the basement, and then up one flight of stairs, which should have put them back at ground level. He slipped around Hank and as close to the edge as he dared and looked down. They had somehow climbed higher than the ground floor.

A lot higher.

B
urke reached out and took hold of the noose. Icy fingers closed over his, the specter of Laura offering assistance. The stench of rotting flesh nearly overpowered him. He wanted to gag, to rid himself of the stench once and for all, but the rot was his own failure. It was as much a part of him as of his wife and daughter. He had failed them, and now the price for that failure would be paid in full. He would join his family in whatever hell they now resided. Burke wanted to tell his wife he was sorry, that he never meant to be a bad husband, a bad father, but he knew she didn’t care about his sorrow. She wanted retribution.

“I found your body, you know,” he said without looking at her. “You were wearing that same blouse, but you were decayed beyond what you look like now.” Burke didn’t know why he was saying this. He just felt like she should know. The smell of her rot took his mind back to that scene beneath the church. There had been little left of her. A skeleton and some scraps of clothing. Why did she appear to him as this decaying monstrosity? Did she wish to torment him with the gruesomeness of it, or was it something else?

“Would Laura ever do this to you?”

Burke started at the voice and saw Red standing in a corner of the cell.

“I failed her.”

“Yes, you did. Again I ask, would your wife ever do this to you?”

Burke watched as the specter of his Sara approached Red like she was unsure what to make of the girl.

“I deserve this.”

“No, you don’t deserve this. Justice does not belong to the dead. It belongs to God alone.”

“God doesn’t care.”

Red laughed. “Of course he cares, silly. Why do you think I’m here?”

Laura pulled on his hand, trying to force the noose closer to his head.

“God sent you? So you are an angel?”

The little girl smiled, and the specter of Sara shied away, as though the smile had physically shoved her.

“We’ve been through this before. I’m here to help you do whatever it is you have to do.” She pointed at the noose. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s it.”

Burke almost smiled. Red’s presence made him feel better. The gloom of his guilt lifted, and even the smell of decay faded. The icy chill of Laura’s hand grew warm and then hot as the specter became agitated. Laura’s mouth opened, revealing a long green tongue, and her face contorted as something beneath the rotting flesh struggled to escape. Then, with a low groan, the vision of the specter collapsed upon itself, leaving little more than a distorted shadow in its place. A quick glance showed Burke that the specter of his daughter had vanished into shadow too. Though the illusion of his family was now broken, the hatred that radiated from them remained as powerful as ever. Whatever these shadows were, they loathed him with a passion beyond anything humanly possible.

Burke stepped away from the noose and the shadows. The temperature in the room was rising fast now. He looked to the corner where Red had been, but she’d disappeared. He spun around, needing to see her, to know she was still with him. “Red,” he yelled. “Where are you? Don’t leave me here alone!” Despair rose within him as he backed farther away from the pulsing shadows.

You are not alone.

Burke felt something lift in him at the words. “Father?” Burke had never thought of God as his father before, but at that moment it felt right. His own father had killed his mother and sister when Burke was just a kid, so the idea of a loving father had never held much allure to him. Right now, however, a loving father was just what he needed.

As quickly as the voice had come, it was gone. Burke felt a pang of disappointment but he no longer felt alone and helpless. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

Burke heard a clamor outside the cell as footsteps raced in his direction. Even the shadows turned their attention to the cell door.

“This way,” Burke heard someone say. He could have sworn it was Martinez. Something heavy slammed into the other side of the cell door. There was pounding, then, “It’s locked. Just a cell. We’ve hit a dead end.”

“Martinez? Is that you?”

“John?”

“In here. In the cell.”

“Hey, I found keys.” Raquel’s voice.

Burke heard a key in the door, then a click. “Be careful, I’m not alone in here.” Burke had no idea if the shadows could physically harm a person, but they had felt real enough when they impersonated his family.

“We aren’t exactly alone out here, either.” Burke recognized Tiny’s distinct growl.

The cell door flew open, and Tiny, Martinez, and Raquel spilled into the room. The shadows swelled and shrunk erratically, but otherwise huddled in a corner.

“What are you doing?” Burke asked. “We’ll all be trapped in here.”

“Better that than the alternative,” Tiny said as he leaned his bulk against the door.

“Been running from some really nasty creatures for quite a while now. Already trapped.” Sweat dripped from Martinez’s bald head as he joined his considerable mass with Tiny’s.

Raquel pointed toward the corner. “What’s that?” Her voice showed curiosity but little fear or surprise.

“They were the specters of my wife and daughter. It was just a sham, though. This whole thing is a sham. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“One of those things behind us licked Throttle’s head right off his shoulders,” Raquel said. “That was real enough for me.”

Burke felt the hair on his arms and neck rise as if a charge of electricity was being injected into the room. The shadows became more agitated before melting through the wall. “Something’s up.”