The Eye of Madness (29 page)

CHAPTER 31

THE SWITCH

“O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!”

~Walter Scott

The woman was on top of Rebekah before she could scream. Pudgy hands clutched her neck and the thumbs pushed against her windpipe like two large walnuts.

“Momma! No … don't hurt her!” Malakhi pleaded.

Her son's cries began fading as unconsciousness dawned. She was going to die. All of a sudden, Rebekah felt a violent shake as the weight of the woman's rotund body and the pressure of her thumbs lifted. Air flowed back into her lungs in a shrill whistle as her damaged windpipe struggled to expand. She rolled on her side in time to see Gestas deliver a crushing blow with a folding wooden chair to the head of the fat woman. Her limbs turned to Jell-O and she collapsed in a heap.

Gestas had just raised the chair again to deliver another violent strike when Rebekah let out a whistling, “Noooo.” He turned and glared at her, causing the little breath she had to leave her lungs in a single gasp of terror. For the first time, she saw the true countenance of Gestas, full of hate and fury. He seemed to be taking great delight in this violent act. She rolled over, trying to catch her breath again. If she had continued to watch, she would have seen disgust wash away all the satisfaction on Gestas's face. He caught himself at the last minute. The woman was dead. He dropped the chair and crawled to Rebekah's side.

Rebekah tried to get away, but she didn't have the air or the energy to do much more than emit an airless whimper. Malakhi cowered in the corner, staring at Gestas as if he were a hungry bear about to devour his mother.

“It's okay, Malakhi … I'm here to help,” Gestas said as he raised Rebekah's head and shoulders, placing them in his lap.

The boy did not seem convinced by the assurances of this old woman. He scooted around the perimeter of the tent until he found a loose section. With the speed and agility of a rabbit, Malakhi squirmed under the wall of the tent and was gone.

Gestas stroked Rebekah's hair and leaned close to her face.

“You're son is running to get the soldiers. They will be here soon,” he whispered. “You must listen to me and you must trust me.”

Rebekah regarded him as if he were crazy. Whether she believed him or not, it was foolish to trust him. Besides, she didn't believe him. Ruth was just a crazy old woman. Either way, unless he changed her mind before the soldiers arrived, his chance for redemption would be gone. He would spend the rest of the storm in a stockade.

Gestas continued, “You know I am telling the truth because the dark soul inhabiting the woman confirmed it. I saved your life, please remember.”

Rebekah's breathing was labored, but her throat was starting to open. “Why?” she wheezed.

“Because I'm sorry for what I have done and realize that my ignorance nurtured arrogance in me. It drove me to a life of hate and misery. It took two thousand years of living in a dark void with other arrogant souls to realize this. I just want redemption, a chance for salvation.”

Rebekah shook her head as she took a deep and shuddering breath. “No … why us?” she asked.

Gestas said, “I'm not sure, a feeling … I can't explain it. When I saw you and Malakhi alone on the street, something inside told me to watch over you. I'll admit, it was hard at first. My dark nature was still there in the background, tempting me to return to my ways. I was able to resist because I felt different. Knowing what I know now … it is amazing how the removal of ignorance takes arrogance right along with it. Two millennia was quite an educational experience.”

Rebekah continued to consciously push air in and out of her lungs. Her face was no longer one of a drowning woman. She was an exhausted woman, who had a lot to think about.

“Please, when the soldiers arrive … tell them the truth. Tell them I saved your life. Please don't tell them anymore.”

The woman twitched, causing Gestas to jump, but it was a single movement. He reached over and checked her pulse. She was dead … probably a post mortem nerve impulse, but he wasn't taking any chances. He lowered Rebekah's head on a pillow. Her eyes rolled and she appeared to lose consciousness, but her breathing was steady. He placed an ear on her chest. She had a strong and steady heartbeat. Satisfied she was fine, he leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“I'll be right back, I have to check on something,” he said and then crawled over and put his ear between the woman's shoulder blades. Her torso was as silent as a bag of flour. She was dead, there was no doubt.

“What happened to the dark soul inhabiting her?” he wondered.

Even though he was a dark soul himself, he had no answer for this question. This was new territory. He guessed it left her body and retreated to the dark shadows of the nearby woods.

“What happened to the soul of the woman?” was the next question in his mind. Again, he had no answer. He would assume she went wherever the Impals are now. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad prospect, but it seemed the most logical explanation.

He had just crawled back to Rebekah when two soldiers burst through the flap of the tent, their weapons drawn.

“What the hell happened?” one of them demanded as he kept his weapon trained on Gestas and Rebekah while the other soldier checked the deceased woman.

Gestas put on his best, terrified old lady act as he explained the horrific events.

“I don't know what came over me,” Gestas swooned. “I just grabbed the chair and swung … I don't know where the strength came from.”

After pronouncing their former tent mate dead, the soldier moved over and checked on Rebekah.

“I think she'll be fine,” he said. “A little bruising around the neck.”

Rebekah was beginning to come around and the sat up groggily.

“You need to come with us to see the base physician,” the soldier said as he slung his weapon over his shoulder.

Rebekah shook her head. “No,” she croaked.

“Where's Malakhi, her son?” Gestas asked.

“He's safe. We can bring him back once we have everything squared away here,” the soldier with the weapon said as he glanced at the woman's body.

“Can you tell us what happened, ma'am?” the other soldier said, addressing Rebekah.

Rebekah shrugged. “She went crazy and Ruth saved me,” she said, pointing at Gestas.

“Do you know why?” the soldier asked.

“No,” Rebekah said and lay back on her pillow. “I'm very tired; I want to rest for a moment.”

“Sure you won't come see the doctor?” the soldier asked again.

Rebekah shook her head and then closed her eyes.

The soldiers worked as quietly as they could, zipping the woman up in a body bag. They tried to be discreet as they carried her through the tents to a makeshift morgue on the other side of camp.

A peppering of gasps and screams filled the night air as the soldiers toted the body through the maze of tents. As it turned out, this was not the only death in the camp; there were three others, each with mysterious circumstances. They were killed by someone claiming self-defense. It could have been a coincidence. After all, this camp was sizeable with around ten thousand inhabitants. A good portion of these were Palestinians who were now relocated in the same camp with Israelis. In many cases, the same tent. The dark had enjoyed plenty of amusement with this old and tiresome conflict.

A soldier stuck his head in the door. “The other woman who was in here, when she found out what happened, she asked to move. So, we accommodated her,” he said.

Gestas nodded and glanced at Rebekah. He was glad they were going to have some privacy after everything that happened tonight.

“We'll bring your son back in a few minutes,” the soldier said and then ducked outside.

“Why don't you get some rest and talk to Malakhi for a while,” Gestas said and pointed at the far wall of the tent where the other women had slept. “I'll rest over here and give you some privacy.”

As Gestas was about to get up, Rebekah grasped his arm. At first, he thought she wanted him to stay close. When he turned and saw her face an inch from his. He felt terror for the first time since entering the dark void. It was Rebekah's features, but what was behind the eyes was not her. Fury and hatred burned through, leaving little doubt this was not her. Her mouth contorted into a hateful sneer as she pulled him even closer. He did not know the name, but somehow he recognized it as the same dark soul that had inhabited the body of the fat woman. She spoke in a raspy, hate-filled voice.

“If you kill me again … I'll kill you and make sure you are tormented for eternity in the void!”

When darkness fell over the Virginia mountains, there were enough bonfires blazing to signal the International Space Station. Sally, Musial, and Cecil had managed to accumulate enough debris to keep their fires going all night; at least they hoped so. Burt tried to help, but he stumbled and fell so many times Cecil convinced him he needed to guard Barbara while they worked. He took a seat beside her in the grass and kept a diligent, if groggy, eye trained on her.

Cecil was worried about his wife, but he was starting to become more worried about Burt. What they first thought was a mild concussion was something much more serious. Cecil knew if Burt didn't receive medical care soon, he wouldn't live much longer. His plan of escape had morphed into one much more dangerous, yet practical.

He knew the only possible way for him to get the medical care he needed was to take him to a military base. The nearest one was Quantico, the place from which Burt helped him escape prison a month earlier. It sounded insane to return to the lion's den, but they were out of options. Cecil knew for his wife to recover and Burt to survive, they would all have to return to the base. That being said, he wasn't willing to let anyone take the rap for aiding in his escape and assisting the Impal refugees. He, and he alone, would accept all blame. Of course, there weren't many left to take the blame. The majority of the people who joined the resistance had already paid the ultimate price. This fact weighed heavily on him.

Once he made sure Barbara and Burt were secure, Cecil and Musial sat in the center of their bonfire circle. They talked for a while out of earshot. Cecil gazed across at the two fresh mounds of earth next to the semi-fresh grave of Dr. Winder. It seemed an eternity since they buried the former National Science Advisor. In reality, it was only a few days.

“I want to leave at first light,” Cecil said.

Musial made no reply.

“How much do you know about Sam Andrews?” Cecil asked.

Musial shrugged. “Bits and pieces, I know he thinks he is going to explode if he doesn't get a beer soon,” he said and then gave a humorless laugh. “His body wants one too … it's about to drive me crazy,” he said rubbing at his arms as if bugs crawled on them.

“Well, when we get to the base tomorrow, I need you to be him. You think you can manage?”

Musial stared at him. “Why in the devil would you go there? Don't you know they will kill you?”

“Because I forced you to go with me on threat of death to you and your family. You finally saw your opportunity to escape and you took me prisoner,” Cecil said. “But one thing you must remember, Burt was my prisoner too.”

“Ha!” Musial said, “they will never believe that about either of us in a million years. Weren't Burt and Sam the ones who broke you out?”

Cecil frowned. He hoped their peers at the base wouldn't know, at least not right away. Not before Burt got the treatment he needed. All Cecil could do was hope because they had no other options, not if Burt were going to live.

“Cecil, do you believe things happen for a reason?” Musial asked, sounding more like a familiar old friend than a useful, albeit shady, dark soul.

“A lot of times, I guess … sure. Why?”

“This whole thing … the storm enabling me, and I'm sure others like me, a chance for salvation. Many people have died because of this storm, but it has given a second chance for many. And then, this storm,” he said pointing at the tornado trail through the woods. “A couple of your friends died, yet it gave you an opportunity to get away. You have a chance to save your wife and Captain Golden.”

Cecil couldn't wrap his head around a divine plan that could cause the death of millions to save a few dark souls. On a personal level, the thought angered him. The very idea they had been given a way out for the bargain price of Derrick and Charlotte's lives was an audacity he could not accept.

“I think it just happened and some bad things came out of it, that's all.”

“Really?” Musial asked skeptically.

“No, I don't believe my friends lives were taken so we could get away. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time and it was just dumb luck the tornado cut a path.”

“I thought you were a Christian, major? Aren't you supposed to believe in a divine plan?”

Cecil was starting to become agitated. “What are you getting at Musial?” he snapped.

“Nothing … nothing … it's just I never was religious. I always thought religion was something people clung to because they were scared of life. They were frightened and needed something to believe in.” He paused a moment and stroked his chin. “Then there are those who think
everything
is a sign or a message from God. Everything from their brand of toothpaste to their worldview is shaped by this belief. I have seen it drive some people quite mad.”

“My father,” Cecil muttered.

“What's that, major?” Musial said, cupping his hand to his ear.

Cecil suspected Musial had heard him and was trying to rub a little salt in an old and deep wound. He wasn't going to let him, so he changed the subject.

“Here are my thoughts about tomorrow,” Cecil said and flicked a twig into the blazing fire while wiping sweat from his brow.