The Eye of Madness (33 page)

“Well I must say you are a lovely cell mate, major.”

Cecil shrugged and didn't say anything. His mind was elsewhere. It was with Steff, it was with Burt, Barbara and Sally. It was also with Abbs, wherever she may be. He possessed a natural fear of death, though it did not terrify him. He didn't care what his father did to him. Not as long as everyone else was okay. His biggest regret was that he would not be there for his family, although … maybe he could. The Impals who stayed did so by choice. He could see himself making the same choice if he died today. Of course, the world had changed since the Impals were here. Where would his soul go now and, wherever it was, would he have a choice? The more he thought about it, the more it scared him. What had happened to the Impals?

“Oh, Abbs,” he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose to quell tears. If alone, he would not have cared, but he didn't want to give Musial the enjoyment of seeing him cry. He decided to change the subject.

“What did you mean right before the tornado hit when you said one of them killed you before?” Cecil asked, jumping as the dark responded with increased agitation. Musial's head flew up and his eyes narrowed on Cecil.

“I had rather not talk about it, major,” he said. “I may have been a bad boy in life which earned me a plunge into the dark void. Yet … there are some things I would rather not discuss.”

“It bothers you more to talk about that then all the people you killed?” Cecil asked.

Musial didn't reply. Although Cecil couldn't see his face in the shadows, his heavy breathing echoed through the jail. Finally he took a deep breath and said, “I was on my way back from getting rid of some nigger's body. I don't even remember his name and I didn't care what it was. This storm blew up out of nowhere and I tried to hide under a big oak tree outside the town where I had been performing. I heard the roar of the damned thing approaching. I thought it was a steam train, but I remembered the steam train didn't run through the little piss ant village. By the time I figured out it wasn't a train, it was too late. The damned twister snatched the tree up as easily as someone weeding a garden … with me clinging to it.”

He took a deep breath and shuddered before continuing. “The last thing I remember seeing before I found myself in the void was the god-awful nigger staring down at me from one of the branches. He was smiling and swinging his feet as if it was a sunny day. I don't know if he was enjoying the weather or enjoying watching me die.”

“Was it his Impal?” Cecil asked.

Musial shook his head. “Hell, I don't know. I have never seen an Impal. I've only heard you living folks talk about them.”

“You couldn't see them before the storm?”

Musial huffed, “I thought I told you we couldn't see anything before then.”

“You said you broke through sometimes to influence the weak minded.”

“It was rare and it was more like trying to talk to someone through a knothole in a fence. You couldn't see much and you were lucky if they heard you,” Musial said and then stretched out on the cot. “I told you I didn't want to talk about this, major,” he said.

Cecil's started to suggest that referring to black people with a racial pejorative was not a good start on the road to salvation. He held his tongue. The story fascinated him and he could see Musial was shaken by its retelling. Besides, being a racist paled in comparison to Musial's other deeds.

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the jail, filling Cecil with dread. Aside from his wife and daughters, there was none as familiar.

Cecil saw a dark form walking down the hall. A moment later, his father glared through the bars at him, smiling triumphantly. His left eye bore a hole through Cecil, while the right eye was concealed behind a wad of surgical tape and gauze. Two people stood behind him in the shadows, but Cecil could not see their faces.

“So … the prodigal son has returned, God be praised!” he shouted.

CHAPTER 35

THE PERIMETER RUN

“Indeed, without emotion it seems unlikely we can even have morality.”

~Julian Baggini

Steff was getting hungry. She sat in her room for the better part of the day avoiding Carmella, which also meant avoiding meals. She didn't feel like eating. She didn't think she would ever eat again. Her stomach twisted in knots so tight, she felt there was no room for food. Her grandfather was an evil man, yet he was her grandfather. She still loved him. Those were two concepts she couldn't reconcile in her young mind.

The longer the day progressed the more she felt as if the walls were closing in on her. As the afternoon wore on and the hunger pangs intensified, she found it harder to breathe. Steff began to pace the room like a caged animal. She wanted nothing more than to leave, to be back with her family. She wanted to go someplace a long, long way from her grandfather. She thought Carmella was a friend and perhaps she was. After all, she was the one who opened her eyes to her grandfather's shortcomings. Even after the shooting of the people in Lafayette Square, it still didn't sink in. What had she said … he is an ignorant man? Yes, that was exactly what she said, and Steff almost laughed at the time.

When she thought of an ignorant person, she thought of someone stupid like Forrest Gump, not her grandfather. She decided to Google the word and then remembered the Internet was still down. Steff took the old fashioned way and found a dictionary on one of the White House's many bookshelves. She thumbed through the pages until she came to the I's, and then scanned a couple of pages until she found the word.

Ignorant

1.
Lacking education of knowledge.

2.
Showing or arising from a lack of education

An ignorant mistake

1.
Unaware or uniformed

“Well that didn't sound so bad,” she thought to herself. “It means there are some things he doesn't know about.”

Steff knew what he did to the Impals. She also knew what he did to ascend to the presidency. Those, along with what he did to those defenseless people with a rifle was much worse than a mere ignorant mistake. It was horrible. Could her grandfather really do all those things just because he was ignorant? Did he not know it was a sin to kill people and steal something that doesn't belong to you, in this care the presidency?

But Carmella also said the ignorance breeds arrogance. Steff considered this and flipped to the front of the dictionary until she came upon the word.

Arrogant

1.
Having or displaying a sense of overbearing self-worth or self-importance.

2.
Marked by or arising from a feeling or assumption of one's superiority toward others.

An arrogant contempt for the weak
.

Steff gasped after reading this part. Her grandfather definitely felt superior to everyone. He was God's chosen leader. She stared at the page and read the definition over and over. It was not too difficult to see how ignorance could lead one to a state of self-importance. After several long minutes, she put the book back on the shelf, but not before soaking several pages with her tears.

The more she paced the room, the more she felt she must get away, yet sanity held her back. However, sanity took an unscheduled break, somewhere between her 150–160th lap around the room. When it departed, there was only panic left to fill the void.

There was no other option left in Steff's troubled mind than to get away from this place and get back to her family. Her mental image included all them, even Abbs. Perhaps the only decent thing her grandfather did was not tell her of Abbs death. It didn't matter now though because she was hell bent on getting away.

The simple, salient thoughts did not occur to her such as it would be dark in two hours. She also did not know how she would get to them, and no idea where they were. No, the first and only order of business was to get out of her prison. To Steff, the White House was nothing more than Alcatraz Island, surrounded by a menacing sea of dark souls.

She knew she did not want to go back into the hallway because Carmella or the Secret Service would stop her before she could make it to the door. She decided her only option was to try and make it out a window. She was on the side of the White House facing Lafayette Square. As she studied her possible escape routes, she noticed something gruesome. The bloodstains from her grandfather's spree gleamed on the brick and concrete street like a demonic sign, reinforcing her grandfather's guilt. Her resolve tightened and she began to try the locks on the window.

Steff pushed until her thumbs were sore, but the window lock would not budge. She considered breaking the window with a wooden chair, but changed her mind. She remembered hearing her grandfather say one time that all the White House windows contained bulletproof glass. If they could repel the bullet from a high-powered sniper rifle, it would certainly deflect the weak attempts of a little girl swinging a chair.

She searched the room and found a shiny brass letter opener. With heaving, panicked breaths she carried it back across the room and began to dig at the lock; it still would not budge. Her breathing became more labored as anxiety started to course through her. It was as if the very air was turning to water and she was drowning, fighting to get to the surface. The surface was on the other side of the window. Finally, after several strong jabs from the letter opener, the lock moved about a half-inch. She hit it several more times, causing her knuckles to bleed as they smashed against the sash. Finally, it swung clear. She did the same thing with the other side, attacking it with much more fervor. Sweat began to pour down her face and her trachea constricted to the size of a straw. Each breath was a high-pitched whistle. Just as she felt as if consciousness were about to leave her, the lock popped free with a loud crack. She grabbed the sash and jerked the window upwards with a couple of hard tugs. The semi-cool evening air wafted into her face filling her with promise. Her relief was short lived as something else hit her in a cruel wave. She had been sealed inside the White House since arriving with her grandfather. She was not prepared.

While the city and military performed an admirable job of cleaning the corpses out of the nation's capital, it was not perfect. The stench of death was still heavy in the air. As it wafted into Steff's nose and mouth; the odor seemed to have a putrid taste. She felt as if she was going to vomit. This, coupled with her starved lungs, was more than her poor brain could stand. As consciousness left her body, she thought of her family. A brief and pleasant image bloomed in her head of her birthday party a year ago where everyone was together. Everyone was happy and all was right with the world. She never loved them as much as she did at that moment.

Steff was unconscious for what happened next. She tottered forward and fell headlong out of the window, plummeting almost thirty feet before landing on her head. Her short life ended with a terrible snap.

Gestas followed Rebekah and Malakhi all day as they wandered about the camp. They didn't seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary, but that is what scared him. He knew this dark soul was self-serving and held no regard for Malakhi. His only concern was to escape the dark void by any means necessary. Even if it meant clinging to Rebekah for decades like a corporeal life raft. Of course, Gestas knew how the dark souls thought. He knew sooner or later Malakhi would become a useless burden. It would cut him loose by the most efficient means available … death.

Shortly after dusk, the dark soul and Malakhi left a play area. They began to walk in the general direction of their tent. Gestas followed a good distance behind, but it was too far. Perhaps in the young male body of his former life it would have been close enough. In the broken down, geriatric body he now inhabited, it was impossible. The old heart in his chest almost seized when the dark entity turned and headed toward the darkness beyond the perimeter. Gestas pushed the old woman's legs as hard as he could, but only managed a fast totter as he tried to weave through the tents to catch up.

The harder he pushed, it seemed the further they drifted away from him. The dark soul pranced along pulling Malakhi by the hand like a mother lion bringing dinner to her cubs. The old woman's body resisted his efforts. Still, he pushed forward.

They were less than twenty yards from the darkness when something unexpected happened. Malakhi pulled loose from the dark soul's grasp and began running towards the camp, towards Gestas.

Gestas held out his arms in a beckoning gesture, but Malakhi did not trust the crazy old lady either. She had murdered someone in the tent right in front of him. He turned without thinking and bolted the other way. When he saw what he already suspected was not his mother, he stopped abruptly and lost his footing, landing on his back. It was on him in an instant. Grabbing him by the hair, it started to drag him toward the perimeter. It shouted curse words loud enough to be heard across the camp. It was hell bent on throwing the boy into the hissing gloom.

This short delay gave Gestas the time he needed to catch up. He wrapped a bony arm around Rebekah's neck and pulled her to the ground. Malakhi fell forward with them as it tightened its grip on his hair. He let out a scream of pain. The cries got the attention of the guards a short distance away and they came running with their weapons drawn.

Gestas saw the guards out of the corner of the woman's cataract eyes. He had no intention of being arrested and thrown in jail. The thing inside Rebekah could then feed Malakhi to the darkness at its leisure. He tried something desperate. He grabbed Rebekah's head between his hands and held on for dear life as the dark soul raged, cursed, and spat at him. The countenance on Rebekah's face was inhuman. Gestas was bringing the dark soul to the surface to reveal its true identity. Keeping a single minded focus, he moved his face closer until their foreheads touched. With all his spiritual might, he leapt forward. For a few moments, he was in a disorienting darkness, and then he began to adjust to his surroundings. The dark faded and he realized he had somehow accomplished his goal. He was inside of Rebekah. He could see her cowering in the background, just as the old woman did when he inhabited her body. There was something different. Something he should have expected. Somebody else was there.