Eve of Redemption (8 page)

The cold radiating from the corpse seeped into Martinez’s muscles, making him feel slow, almost numb. Fear flooded his senses as he fought for his life. He still held the flashlight in his left hand and the gun in his right, but he knew he would have to drop one of them and take a physical hold on this nightmare if he was to have any chance of subduing it. He hated to lose the light, and though the gun was temporarily useless, another clip sat in the holster strap. On the other hand, bullets had not done him much good. Finally, he let the gun fall to the floor and used his free right hand to grab the knife arm of his attacker. He held its right forearm with his own right hand, while slipping his left arm under and around in an attempt to twist the knife free.

The corpse let loose a burst of strength and heaved Martinez against a wall. Bright stars flashed across his vision as his head bounced off a door frame. He managed to maintain his grip, but he knew his strength would not hold out much longer. He gasped as ice-cold fingers clamped around his throat. The kid’s hand was not very big, especially compared to his own massive neck, but the strong fingers dug in around his windpipe, trying to tear it out. The pain was excruciating and Martinez renewed his efforts to break free. He managed to get two fingers wrapped around the corpse’s thumb, but pulling on it only allowed the fingers to dig in deeper on the other side of his throat. He was gagging now and began to feel lightheaded. Unless he ended this in the next few seconds, he knew he was a goner.

Desperate for air, Martinez managed to get one foot up between him and the corpse. With every bit of energy he could muster, he kicked the thing away. Pain flashed from his neck—the fingers that had been locked on so tight took some of his skin as they tore free. It crashed against the far wall, bounced off, and stumbled toward him once more.

God, what do I have to do?

To his surprise, the corpse dropped to the floor as though invisible puppet strings had been severed. In one practiced movement, Martinez scooped his gun from the floor and popped in a new clip. With trembling hands he pointed the gun at the headless body, but it showed no sign of movement. The cold was dissipating, slipping away like a ghost, leaving Martinez the distinct impression something was leaving. He gasped fresh air into his aching windpipe as he stumbled away from the lifeless corpse. His eyes darted around the room in search of any other nightmare, but the house remained quiet.

“You all right, John?” he rasped. Only silence answered. Martinez spun around and shined the light on the chair the other man had been sitting in. It was empty, and the front door was open.

John Burke was gone.

Martinez heard a car door slam somewhere outside. His eyes scanned the neighborhood as he stumbled out the door. A car engine sputtered to life around the corner, and he hopped down the two steps to the sidewalk. A car pulled away from the curb on the next block and sped off. Martinez dashed to his own car. Flinging open the driver’s door, he slid behind the wheel and shoved the key into the ignition.

The squeal of tires filled the night air as Martinez sped after the other car. Could Burke have escaped the handcuffs? No—instinct told him a second person was involved. Burke had been in no condition to escape, or even drive. He grabbed the radio to call for backup, but it was completely dead. Not even the hiss of static sounded from the speaker. What was going on tonight?

Martinez sped through the dark, deserted streets, keeping the far-off taillights just within sight. Two blocks ahead, the car made a sharp left turn and disappeared from view. Martinez accelerated as fast as he dared and slid around the corner at the intersection. The street was deserted. He slammed one meaty hand against the steering wheel in frustration. He eyed the vehicles parked on the side of the street, but he hadn’t gotten enough of a look at the car to know what he was looking for. It could be any of these cars, or none of them.

Martinez slammed the wheel again. He had lost them.

B
urke’s head throbbed as he slid across the backseat of the car. His dazed mind struggled to grasp what was happening. He had been in the living room of his house with Officer Martinez. That much he remembered clearly. Then something had happened. Someone else had been there, in the kitchen. He remembered the flashlight coming on, the cop picking it up and shining it toward whoever hid in the darkness. Then Martinez had moved in front of him, his massive body blocking Burke’s line of sight. There had been movement beside him, the front door opening, and a blinding flash of pain. The next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the back of a car.

Burke rolled across the backseat as the car took a hard turn. His wrists were still locked in the handcuffs, keeping him from using his hands to brace himself. “Who’s up there?” His words slurred, and his tongue felt too big for his mouth.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Burke. Glad to have you back with me. Hope I didn’t hit you too hard back there.” The female voice had a strong southern drawl to it. “Might want to put on your seat belt. The ride’s probably gonna be kind of rough.” The driver laughed as though she found this funny. Burke thought the seat belt would be a great idea if his hands weren’t locked behind his back. As it was, he slouched in the seat and braced his feet against the floor with his knees against the back of the seat in front of him. “You looked like you were having a hard time back there at the house. Thought I’d help a friend out.”

“Who are you? Where’re you taking me?” The injuries to his head, along with the less than smooth motion of the car, made him too nauseated to say more.

“Oh, sorry. Guess I forgot to introduce myself in all the excitement.” She half-turned and Burke saw the face of a girl who couldn’t have been any older than twenty-one. Short dark hair framed a pretty face that sported a couple of small tattoos. “I’m Kayla. You can probably tell from my accent I’m not from these parts. There’s big happenings in the world right now, Mr. Burke. Big happenings. And this here part of the country’s the place to be if you want to be a part of them. And believe you me, you are a part of them. You’re a very popular man, Mr. Burke. Just relax now. I’ve got no wish to harm you. Not like that guy back there. Trust me, you’re much better off with me.”

Burke fought to control his growing nausea. “I don’t understand,” he managed to say. “I’m no one.” He felt the car slow to a more reasonable pace.

“Oh, you’re someone, all right. Don’t look like much though, do you?” Kayla snickered. “Of course, they don’t tell me much, so I really couldn’t tell you why you’re so important. But orders are orders.”

Finally, the car slowed, and then pulled to a halt. Though the early morning was still dark, Burke recognized their location. He had spent uncounted hours staring at this very building—Christ of God Church, the last know location of Laura and Sara. The church looked much the same as it had the night of the disappearances. Graffiti covered the once-white walls of old peeling paint. From his position in the backseat, Burke could look up through the rear windshield into the dark shadows of the steeple. If the bell was still there, it was hidden in darkness. It still amazed Burke that the building had, in an instant, gone from a friendly, well-kept church to this ruin when the disappearances occurred. Just another mystery that had never been solved and eventually faded from memory.

“Well, here we are, Mr. Burke,” said Kayla. “We lost your cop friend a ways back, so don’t be expecting him to come along anytime soon.”

Burke glanced out the back window of the car. She was right. If Martinez had been following, he was nowhere to be seen now. Kayla climbed out of the front seat and opened the back door. She leaned in, grabbed him by one arm, and jerked him from the car. The strength of her small frame surprised him.

She must have noticed the startled look on his face. “Stronger than I look,” she said, smiling.

She half dragged him a short distance before shoving him against a wall. “Just hang tight,” she said. Her eyes took in every detail of their surroundings. She seemed nervous, but not fearful.

Burke considered yelling for help. He squashed the thought as quickly as it came. No one would come outside this time of night to help a stranger. Probably wouldn’t do it for a friend, either. He heard what sounded like nails being pulled and looked to see Kayla using her bare fingers to force open a door that had been nailed shut. Again, he was grabbed by the arm and dragged into the building. He tripped over the threshold and the girl let go, allowing him to crash to the floor. Unable to use his hands to break his fall, he landed hard on his left shoulder. He gasped as the fall knocked the wind from his bruised body. The door slammed shut behind him.

“Come on, come on,” Kayla said. Burke detected an urgency in her voice that had not been there earlier. She grasped his wrist and pulled him across the room.

Burke stumbled along as he was dragged across the bare wood floor, his awkward steps echoing in the large empty room. He was all but blind in the darkness and wondered how Kayla could see where she was going. She seemed in a much bigger hurry now, as though time were running out.

The door behind them squealed open, and Kayla let loose a string of curses. Burke managed to turn just enough to see the shadowy form of another person step from the dim light outside into the blackness of the church. Kayla released his arm, and he stumbled before letting himself crumple to the floor.

“Well now, what have we here?” asked a man’s voice as the door once again slammed shut. Burke thought the voice sounded familiar, like something from the distant past or maybe a dream.

“This is none of your business,” Kayla said. Her voice betrayed her nervousness.

“Oh, I disagree,” said the newcomer. “You interrupted my fun and took what I consider to be mine, namely Mr. Burke here. Unless you’re going to kill that piece of garbage for me, it is very much my business.”

Burke heard footsteps as the new arrival moved closer. He wished he could see in the dark like they appeared to be able to.

“You really shouldn’t have interfered. That was a very bad idea.”

“I ain’t afraid of you,” Kayla said, though the tremor in her voice told a different story. “My master wants him alive, and I plan to deliver him that way.”

The man laughed. Either he felt much more confident in himself than Kayla did, or he played it off better. Burke hoped the latter. He had no idea what was going on, but if Kayla wanted him alive, he was rooting for her. He used his feet to slide across the floor, putting as much distance between himself and the other two as possible. A fight was about to break out and, in his current condition, he wanted to get out of the way.

“I’d advise you to leave,” the man said. “Just go away, and you might survive to see another day.”

Kayla chuckled, but it sounded different—like her, but not her. “That’s not happening, Denizen. That skin you walk around in may be able to take the one I’m wearing, but this close to the portal we don’t have to rely on puny human power, now do we?” Burke detected a change in Kayla’s tone as she spoke. The voice was the same—but, at the same time, not the same. Again, he wished he could see what was happening. He also wished he knew what they were talking about.

Burke heard a loud hiss, and a red light flashed so bright it lit the room like a flare, forcing him to slam his eyes shut. Then came a thump that Burke felt as much as he heard. The concussion moved his body a couple inches across the floor.

“So, that’s the way you want to play, eh?” said the man Kayla had called Denizen. “I can play that game, too.”

Burke huddled in a corner, feeling like a fly caught in a nightmarish web.