The Eye of Madness (31 page)

“Me and a few other officers have been patrolling the area every day to make sure there aren't any looters out,” he said. “I think y'all are damn looters.” He paused for a moment as he removed his sunglasses, polishing the lenses on his sleeve. He stuck his jack booted foot out and tapped Cecil on the nose. It was not hard enough to do any damage, but hard enough to remind Cecil that his nose was recently broken. “I think you and the fat sow here are looters. You took those two hostage back there after you robbed them. How am I doing so far?” he sneered, as he leaned over Cecil and spat in his ear.

Cecil did not answer. He knew it would not do any good. This officer was one of a minority of police officers around the world who harbor insecurities. They use their position of authority to compensate for those short comings. Cecil said nothing.

“I tell you what,” he said, bending over and patting Sally's butt. “I wanted to do a little hogging before I carry out judgment, but you ain't my type. I prefer my hogs a little more lean … you've got too much cushion for the pushin',” he said and then let out a loud braying laugh.

“Get your ass up!” he screamed at Cecil.

Cecil slowly got to his feet.

“Come on!” he ordered, giving Cecil a kick in the butt.

Once Cecil was standing tall, the officer spun him around and drew himself close to his face. He was shorter than Cecil so his eyes were even with his chin.

“By the authority vested in me by the honorable President Ott Garrison and the Commonwealth of Virginia, I find you guilty of sedition and larceny. You are hereby sentenced to the shade!”

The meaning of the officer's words did not sink in at first. Then he spun around and pointed with his pistol at a very dark patch of woods across the highway.

“Get your ass in there … march!” he screamed as he gave Cecil a shove in the back.

CHAPTER 33

THE SWING

“A really great talent finds its happiness in execution.”

~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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

It was the last thing the dark soul now inhabiting Rebekah said to Gestas before cradling Malakhi in her arms. The spite radiating from her face would have frozen a blast furnace. She stroked Malakhi's hair while staring at Gestas.

The first question Gestas wanted to ask was how this dark soul was able to accomplish this. He believed he may know the answer. A dark soul can leave a body at any time they choose, but entering is a different matter. The person has to be in a weakened state when they come in contact with the dark. This typically pertains to a person who is drunk or under the influence of drugs. In Rebekah's case, her semi-conscious state brought on by the strangling was all this dark soul needed.

They played a grueling game of chicken for the better part of the night. Gestas was afraid to act at first, fearing this dark soul would do something to Malakhi. Still a few hours from sunrise, the old woman's body could not hold out much longer.

“What do you want?” Gestas asked.

“The same as you, my kindred … I want salvation, redemption, escape … I'm never going back to the wretched dark abyss again.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Gestas said. “You were going to kill the woman you now inhabit because you thought she was going to give away our dark secret.”

“Well … yes,” she said with raised eyebrows. “She would have revealed us. If that happened, I would have gone back to the void.”

Gestas felt anger burning inside of him. “What is your idea of salvation?” he asked.

It replied in a matter of fact tone. “To inhabit this body so I will have something to cling to as a life preserver when this storm passes. You know it will in time. When it happens, the void will seal again and we will be back in miserable purgatory. I would expect forever this time.”

“You ignorant fool!” Gestas hissed. “It's not salvation or redemption … that's theft. In truth, it is murder!

“How is it murder?” it frowned. “She is still here, somewhere.… Her body is still very much alive. Why, it's not murder at all.”

“You intend to keep control of her body, even after this is over. You are destroying the person who was Rebekah and replacing her with yourself. Don't you see?”

It shrugged. “Well, this is best for both of us. I think her life will only be better with me and my many years of experience. We can do great things. Besides, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, or so the expression goes.” It paused and grinned before glancing down at the sleeping Malakhi. “Speaking of omelets, I'm kind of hungry.” She shook the sleeping boy a little harder than she should. He jumped up with a cry. “What say we go and get some breakfast, son?” it said with a sappy, forced smile.

Malakhi frowned at Gestas who agreed with a shaky nod. He didn't see much choice at the moment. They got up and left the tent, the dark soul in Rebekah flashing a devious smile before ducking under the flap. Before it closed the flap, it turned and whispered. “And I thought the Spanish Inquisition was fun. I never understood why I was in the void after all the good I did for the church.”

Gestas sat up, the heart in his geriatric chest pounding as if he ran a marathon. He felt ignorance is something he had overcome in two millennia. He knew what he must do for redemption. In his case, he needed to help someone without regard for himself. He didn't know why he suddenly knew this. It wasn't as if some booming, omnipotent voice had spoken great words of wisdom to him or he learned some sacred wisdom in the void. There was only an eternity of darkness and hate-filled lamentations. The occasional small rabbit hole to the mind of a gullible individual in the outside world was the only break in monotony. Time passed differently in the void. Still, two thousand years was a long time to wait. It was also a long time to think, rethink, and observe some of these jaunts into the heads of the weak minded. A lot of ignorance can be overcome in twenty centuries if one is willing to put their arrogance aside.

Gestas knew for sure that stealing a person's identity was not the way to go about anything. He was borrowing the old woman's identity, but he intended to return her to her life once he reached his goal. He wanted to move on and be like the other people who had the choice to stay or move on after death. Where would he move on? Could it be the paradise that the man who called himself the King of the Jews spoke of to Dismas? He didn't know. He believed freedom from the dark void was as good as any paradise.

He believed his ticket to redemption lay in helping Rebekah and Malakhi, but he now felt his hope fading. Perhaps this was his opportunity. He had never figured out before how Rebekah and Malakhi needed his help. He felt compelled to stay near, just in case. This was the quintessential definition of needing help.

The problem was, he didn't know how to help. Whoever this dark soul may be, they now enjoyed full control over Rebekah. To make matters worse, they had participated in the Spanish Inquisition. From his experience with the dark souls, they were some of the most arrogant and ruthless beings in existence. Their self-important pride in their belief made them almost impossible to reach. This was Gestas's opportunity, but he did not know how to act. He couldn't leave the body of the old woman without returning to the darkness. Even if he could, he didn't know if he could get inside Rebekah's head and drive this arrogant wretch out. The one thing he could do right now is continue to watch and stay close. Gestas got up and headed towards the mess hall, watching for Rebekah and Malakhi.

President Garrison had to shoot the first officer to make his point. Participation in this experiment was mandatory.

“You are all guilty of treason!” he proclaimed, holding up printouts of emails given to him by his tech guru, Sebastian Gardner. “You may well survive the experiment,” he lied. “If you refuse to participate, you most definitely will not survive!”

The remaining officers bravely lined up in the bright sun outside the hangar and awaited their turn. Joan and Sebastian stood guard with the MPs. They pointed their weapons with enthusiasm at the condemned men. The MPs did not seem so enthusiastic, yet they were obedient.

The hangar was a large building with acoustics ideal for an outdoor concert. Even through the massive closed doors, the electric hum of the Tesla Gate vibrated the metallic walls. The terror filled screams of the men added to the horror.

Garrison was not sure if the experiments were having any effect. He was glad he selected twenty men as test subjects because less than ten would not have been enough. He had rigged up a platform in front of the Tesla Gate, with a long rope hanging from a rafter high above. On first glance, it would have appeared as a gallows. However, instead of a rope tied around the man's neck, it wrapped under his shoulders. Avery stood behind the condemned until the lights in the hangar turned off. As the man screamed when the darkness closed in, Avery shoved him off the platform. The unfortunate officer made a perfect swing into the glowing blue arcs of electricity in the center of the Gate. None of them survived. The darkness followed the men in their flight as the tormented screams never ceased. It was unclear after three such drops if the electrical field at the heart of the Tesla Gate had any effect on the dark souls. It certainly had an effect on the poor men; their bodies were fried to a crisp.

The sick sweet, acrid smell of burned flesh lingered in their nose and mouth more akin to a taste than an odor. The remaining doomed men began to wretch at the pungent odor as they were brought in one at a time. Garrison was undeterred. He ordered each man forward while preparing to extinguish the lights. It was if he were wearing an invisible gas mask. Garrison would proclaim he was shielded by the hand of the Lord.

The dark souls couldn't be seen, except as a shadow by the naked eye. Once the switch flipped, the only light left in the hangar was the bluish luminescent glow of the Tesla Gate. Avery thought it resembled a giant TV set tuned in to the Twilight Zone. With each new victim, the dark souls swarmed like bats seeking prey. Their wild fluttering in front of the pulsing Gate enhanced its already horrific appearance. It was too difficult to see if the experiment was actually working. There was no way to perform a census before and after each experiment to see if the dark souls were consumed by the Tesla Gate. Garrison decided he needed a closer look. He climbed down from his podium to the right of the Gate and stood a dozen feet in front of the opening. It once bore the nickname the Shredder when it consumed a steady diet of Impals. Now it seemed prudent to change the nickname to the Fryer. The hangar reeked with burned flesh, yet it didn't bother Garrison.

Garrison took the remote switch and pointed it at the ceiling as Avery readied the next man to swing. Once the man was bound under the arms, Garrison hit the switch and waited till he heard the blood curdling screams.

“”Now!” he shouted, as he had done a half dozen times before.

He could see the man jerking and kicking as he swung toward the Gate. It was almost like watching a strobe light performance. The ebb and flow of the electrical pulse blinked the condemned man in and out of relief. He could see the dark souls encircling and swarming the man as he got closer. Garrison watched, leaning back towards the Gate as he watched for some sign the dark souls had been shredded.

When the man hit the Gate, there was a tremendous crackle and buzz as his body cooked with voltage. Pieces of burning flesh and clothing flew from the corpse like a ghastly Roman candle. Garrison didn't see any dark souls disappear into the Gate. He did see a large fireball of burned flesh and material flying directly at him. There was no time to react and Garrison was pelted in the right eye with a searing pain. He howled in anguish, shouting several phrases the Lord would not approve of, before falling to his knees. He passed out from the agony.

Cecil didn't see any alternative other than move forward. This cop was either unstable or ignorant. He believed he was doing the right thing by acting as judge, jury, and executioner. He also seemed to take sadistic pleasure from inflicting misery on his prisoners. Cecil's mind worked feverishly for a way out, yet he knew if he resisted, the cop would take it out on Sally after he was dead. Then what would happen to Barbara and Burt? A moment later, he heard a sickening crunch and a moan behind him. Cecil turned to see the sadistic State Trooper collapse to his knees. He then toppled forward and slammed face first into the pavement.

As he hit the ground, the gun went off sending a bullet careening inches from Cecil's chin. As he checked to insure his face was still intact, he saw Musial standing over the trooper brandishing a tire iron. Rage and satisfaction swam behind his glaring eyes. Before Cecil could say anything, Musial sprang forward. He delivered another crushing blow to the back of the troopers head. If he wasn't already dead he was now. Bits of brain and bone oozed in a bloody puddle on the pavement. Musial moved to strike again, but Cecil grabbed his arm.

“It's done,” Cecil said. Musial struggled in his grasp so he gripped him harder and pushed him back against the SUV. The rage in Musial's eyes was murderous. There was also elation, similar to a junkie who finally got a hit of their addictive poison after a long hiatus.

“Thank you, Musial,” Cecil said. “You saved us all … thank you.”

The mention of saving seemed to break Musial's crazed trance. He blinked and then looked from the body to Cecil.

“Sorry major, I hope I didn't get any on you,” he said as he casually wiped blood splatters off of his face with his sleeve.

Cecil helped Sally to her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He was not unsympathetic. He knew she was worried about Burt and she feared she was about to get raped and murdered by the vile police officer. On the other hand, he was tired of her excessive wailing every time something bad happened.