The Eye of Madness (30 page)

They discussed their plans until the wee hours of the morning. Cecil couldn't sleep, he had to make sure none of the fires died. More so, he was worried about Barbara and Burt. He was worried about all of them.

Cecil sat in silence, poking a stick into one of the fires after Musial lay down and shut his eyes. He seethed and cursed his father for putting him in this situation. Thanks to him, his oldest daughter was dead, his youngest was a captive, and his wife was in a vegetative state. This was no divine plan, this was just an old man who was crazy. Ignorance and arrogance had consumed him long ago. He couldn't bring himself to call him father or even old man anymore. Those days were gone.

“Damn you, Ott Garrison. Damn you to hell!” he muttered.

CHAPTER 32

THE GIVER OF THE LAW

“The foundation of morality should not be made dependent on myth nor tied to any authority lest doubt about the myth or about the legitimacy of the authority imperil the foundation of sound judgment and action.”

~Albert Einstein

Steff locked herself in her room for the night. She refused to come out no matter how much Carmella persisted. When Carmella left her dinner at the door, she ignored her. She was angry, upset, afraid, and hungry. She was also mad because, deep down; she suspected they may be right. Maybe the only way to stop her grandpa was to kill him.

This comprehension brought on a crescendo of negative emotions, most of which she was not mature enough to handle. The only way she could deal with these feelings was to put them out of her head, but that was proving more and more difficult. Her favorite memory was the one when her dad took her to Marian Burgers a couple of weeks ago. She felt safe and important in this memory.

She sat and watched from her bedroom window as Carmella escorted a group of three men and one woman to a limousine. They loaded several large duffel bags in the trunk. As one of the men shoved the trunk shut, Carmella waved at Steff's window. Like a child, Steff jumped back behind the curtains. She knew Carmella had seen her, did she think hiding now would change it?

What was in those bags? Bombs, grenades, guns … thermo nuclear weapons? Maybe it was only gym clothes. Steff did not believe the latter as much as she wanted to.

A few minutes later, Steff heard a knock on the door followed by Carmella's calm and pleading voice. “Sweetheart, we need to talk,” she called.

“About what?” Steff thought. “What kind of casket you are going to put the pieces of my grandpa in?”

Carmella soon gave up. As she walked away, a bizarre thought came into Steff's head.

“I wonder if my grandpa would be nicer as an Impal?”

If Steff only knew what happened the previous evening, she might have been on board with the ‘bomb squad' staff at the White House. One hundred and ten officers attended the Halloween festivity in the grand ballroom. Only about sixty of them went home. The unfortunate fifty were not all dead, at least not yet. Garrison still had a use for them. Of course, the use would result in their deaths. He intended to run experiments with the Tesla Gate, using these condemned men as guinea pigs or, in this case, bait.

If the Tesla Gates could absorb and get rid of Impals in their deceitful form, why couldn't it do it now in their dark form? He envisioned gates similar to large bug collectors on the back of enormous trucks, boats, or airplanes. They would snatch up these abominations and send them back to where they belonged. Perhaps destroy them all together. Yes, total annihilation was Garrison's preferred result.

Aside from the one hundred-ten officers, Joan had taken care of several other men last night. She invited them one by one into a private conference room. There were several conference rooms because the dark was quite violent last night. When the lights came back on after each victim, it would have taken an industrial cleaning crew to get them presentable again. Joan got rid of about twenty minor officers. She didn't lift a finger against them, except to beckon them inside and then switch off the lights.

Sebastian identified these officers as he searched the base's data base and email records. There was a resistance forming and there would be some required visits to at least six other bases, but they would have to do it fast. He would try to control communication in and out of the base, yet he knew he could only control it for so long. Sooner or later, word would get out about the executions. When this happened, some resistance members might pull the trigger early. This might cause a chaotic mess for President Garrison and his administration. They needed to be swift, they needed to be thorough, and they needed to be efficient.

Sebastian and Joan would head out tomorrow to Fort Bragg in North Carolina. They would be a tag team tandem of the nosy geek and the slutty executioner. Sebastian wanted Avery to join them, if for nothing more than to give their visit more clout. His request was denied without reason.

President Garrison was in the hanger before first light. Thirty angry and confused officers huddled outside. Power had been redirected there from other noncritical areas at Quantico. The hanger hummed as power surged through the massive conduits to the Shredder. As the Tesla Gate fired to life again, a thrill ran through his body. Today was going to be a fun day.

Jack Abernathy slept most of the night and almost to noon the following day. He was exhausted and when his captors realized he would not succumb to the music and light show, they left him alone.

“They are banging the little slag, Donna,” he thought to himself.

Was it a twinge of jealousy he felt? Perhaps, but the question is, was it jealousy of her carnal exploits or jealousy of her freedom while he sat in jail? He was pretty certain it was the latter.

He shuddered and laughed out loud at the thought. “Preposterous. I hate the treacherous slut,” he said to the room.

Then he shuddered again. Something deep inside disagreed. It was a feeling alien to him and he didn't know how to process it. He didn't want to process it, but there it was, festering inside … a small spark of affection.

“Damn her!” he muttered then rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

The vehicle couldn't make it down the swath cut by the tornado. There were too much debris and downed trees for it to navigate, even in four-wheel drive. The driveway, as far as they could tell, was still navigable, but there were too many dark patches to make it a safe option. They decided Musial would drive the vehicle to the road and Cecil would lead everybody down the tornado trail. They would meet Musial down at the main road.

“No, you can't do that!” Sally protested when she heard Cecil's plan to go back to the base. “They will kill you!”

Cecil led Sally away from Burt; he was lying on his back and staring at the sky, resembling a man with a terrible hangover.

“Sally … listen to me,” Cecil whispered as he gently tugged on her arm. She was staring at her husband. Sally turned and looked into Cecil's eyes. “Burt needs medical attention and he needs it now,” Cecil said. “We have to go for his sake!”

Sally began to shake her head, but she was so distressed she resembled a bobble head doll. “No … Burt would never allow it,” she stammered. “He would never forgive himself if something happened to you … he would never forgive me if I let you do this.”

“Sally,” Cecil said firmly. “This has nothing to do with me and Burt's friendship. I am Burt's superior officer and this is an order. It's not open for negotiation.”

“But you aren't in the military anymore … the two of you gave it up when you started helping Impals,” she protested.

“Sally, I had a meeting with the president the night he was murdered. Do you know what he told me?”

She blinked with surprise and then glanced at Burt.

“He told me he thought Burt and I were heroes for what we were doing to help the Impals. As far as he was concerned, we still held the title of captain and major. Then someone shot him.”

There was an uncomfortable silence between them for several moments before Cecil continued. “As far as I am concerned and the Constitution is concerned … he was our last legitimate leader. So yes, Burt and I are still in the military and I am ordering him back to base.”

“But—,” Sally began to protest before Cecil cut her short.

“Don't forget … Barbara needs help as well.”

Cecil and Sally aided Burt down the path. They rigged up a rescue sled for Barbara made of two straight limbs and a few salvaged sofa cushions and pillows. They made frequent stops to rest. Burt could walk on his own, yet he still required a lot of support. There were also several areas where thick fallen trees blocked their path and Cecil had to pick up Barbara and carry her. Even though the path was wrought with obstacles, it was a short walk. Under normal circumstance, it would have taken maybe a half hour to traverse. It took Cecil and Sally over two hours to maneuver Burt and Barbara down to the main road.

“Are there any wooded areas or tunnels between here and the interstate?” Cecil asked Musial as they loaded Burt and Barbara into the cargo area on a soft palette of pillows and sofa cushions.

“Not that I recall, major,” Musial said. “Of course I wasn't paying attention when I came this way before.”

Cecil glared at him.

“Of course, you are driving, major,” Musial said. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

It was Musial's way of saying he wasn't going to take the heat if he drove them through a tunnel or a shady forest. Cecil wouldn't have it any other way either. He took the keys and slid into the driver's seat.

“I'll drive until we are a few miles from the base,” Cecil said as he turned the key and shifted into gear. “Then you are going to take over.”

Cecil glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Sally on her hands and knees, leaning over the backseat. She kept her feet up as much as possible because the back floor board was full of dark patches, especially under the seats. They put one lantern in the back floor board, one on the floor between the driver and passenger, and the rest around the cargo area. The goal was to eliminate any random dark spot. The lights in the vehicle were probably unnecessary, considering it was a bright sunny day, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

There must be a certain degree of darkness to harbor the dark souls, but nobody knew just how shadowy it was. One thing was certain, the hellish hiss and click of the dark thrummed in the woods as they drove by. It was loud enough to be heard over the engine. Cecil was certain he also heard the same sound coming from somewhere in the vehicle. Maybe under the seats or in the glove box. The noise outside sounded angry. The noise inside was scarier … more plotting and patient, as if it was waiting for the right opportunity to pounce.

Cecil's first impulse was to ask Sally to buckle up, after all, it was the prudent and legal thing to do in the ‘normal' world. Nothing was normal anymore.

About noon, they drove through a small town whose only claim to fame was a Post Office in a mobile home. As they turned right at the crossroads, they passed a Virginia State Trooper heading in the opposite direction. Cecil's heart leapt into his throat as he saw the blue lights flash to life and the car make a tire squalling U-turn.

He thought of trying to out run him, but he reconsidered when he thought of Burt and Barbara unsecured in the back. Besides, he was in unfamiliar countryside and he could easily find himself in a dark area. It was now early November and Cecil cursed the fact the trees had not yet dropped their leaves. Despite some chilly, fall days, everything was still as lush and green as early summer.

Cecil and Musial both shrugged. He pulled over on a sunny, graveled shoulder and put the vehicle in park. He left the engine running. The patrol car pulled up behind them and stopped. Its blue lights reflected off every glass surface in the vehicle. After several long moments, a single officer got out and began to stroll towards the SUV. As the officer approached the rear driver's side of the vehicle, Cecil glanced at Musial. He was gone.

“Cecil. Where's Musial?” Sally whispered from the back seat.

Before he could answer, his door flew open. As he spun to face the officer, he was grabbed by the arm and slung out onto the pavement with surprising force. He raised his head to find himself staring down the barrel of a .44 automatic.

“Don't move you low life piece of crap!” the officer barked. “Lie face down with your hands behind your back!”

Once Cecil complied, he slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. He then reached up and threw open the back door.

“Get your ass out here and kiss the pavement you fat hog!” he growled at Sally.

Cecil felt a sudden urge to rise up and put his fist down the officer's throat. “She didn't do anything, leave her alone!” he yelled.

As Sally clambered out, the officer shoved her to the ground and gave Cecil a kick to the ribs for his disrespect. He slapped another pair of cuffs on the bawling Sally and then flung open the hatch of the vehicle.

“Freeze you scumbags!” he shouted, pointing his gun at Burt and Barbara.

Cecil was furious. He pushed up with his shoulders, springing to his knees and then with one more thrust he sprung to his feet.

“They are injured, they can't freeze or get on the ground or anything … we're trying to take them to a hospital!” Cecil screamed.

The officer rounded on him and gave him a paralyzing blow to the gut, causing Cecil's body to stiffen and slump to the ground. He lay still, trying to catch his breath.

“So, they are injured, huh?” he said glancing in the back at Barbara. She was not moving and her eyes were shut. Burt's eyes still swam. “I'll tell you what I think happened,” he said, keeping the gun pointed at them as he checked their pulse. He stepped back, apparently satisfied with the story. The officer walked over and stood about six inches from Cecil's face.